Not Everything by maderr (original)

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Title: Not Everything
Author: maderr
Fandom: Original
Spoilers/Rating: G, male/male (just a couple of kisses), sap

Pic can be found here



Tommy wasn't surprised to see the place shut down; it had barely been in business when he'd worked there over the course of two years. He still remembered the way Mr. Vance had smelled like booze, looked like shit, but always smiled at him kindly.

He lit a cigarette, just to have something to do, wondering what he was going to do now that his last chance had proven to be just another dead end. The internet had told him that Seth was still in town, but not much else. Of course, it didn't help that he barely knew how to use internet. Shit, he was still figuring out how to use his fucking phone.

Should have sucked it up and asked one of the guys for help.

Sighing, Tommy took a long drag, then let the cigarette dangle from his fingers while he stared at the shitty little copy place that had been his first job.

What next? He didn't want to have to give up, but he had no idea where to look. He didn't even know if Seth wanted to see him--if Seth remembered him, but thinking that he might have been forgotten by the only person that mattered made him sick.

He took another pull on his cigarette, breathing the smoke in, letting the nicotine calm him where nothing else would. Okay, new plan. He'd go back to the hotel and get dinner, then try the internet again.

Dropping his finished cigarette to the ground, he stamped it out and then picked up the stub and threw it away. He walked back the way he'd come, shoving his hands into the pockets of his fancy new fleece jacket. His fingers curled around the new phone he barely knew how to use.

He grabbed a cab when he reached the busy streets, and zoned out in the back seat while the driver fought through heavy city traffic. When he finally reached the hotel room, Tommy dithered between finding a place to grab food or just ordering room service.

Someone's elbow jabbed him as they walked past, shopping bags knocking against him. Room service, he decided, slipping into the hotel.

"Mr. Morris, welcome back," the concierge greeted him.

"Thanks," Tommy replied, smiling shyly. He was never going to get used to being somebody.

Moving around the desk, the concierge approached him. "You've a visitor, Mr. Morris. I told him he was welcome to come back later, or wait at the bar, and I would inform you of his request."

"A visitor?" Tommy repeated, blinking. Who would be stopping by to see him? His agent wouldn't be around for another week or so, and the rest of the band wouldn't show until the end of the month. He'd arrived super early to have time to hunt Seth down before everything really got rolling. "Did he give a name?"

"He left a business card," the concierge replied. "He's the man at the bar in the blue shirt, dark hair, glasses."

Tommy nodded, thanked him, and finally looked at the card. Shock slammed into him, robbed him of breath. Seth Lansing, Graphic Designer. Shoving the card into his jeans, Tommy made a beeline for the bar.

He saw Seth the minute he stepped inside, frozen for a moment as their eyes locked. Seth's eyes were still that pale, pretty brown. There were lines around them, and the glasses were new, but the eyes hadn't really changed. Seth smiled at him, and Tommy started moving again, crossing the bar to stand beside him as Seth spun around in his seat. He licked his lips, and managed, "Hi."

"Hi, yourself," Seth said, mouth quirking in that silly half-smile Tommy had never forgotten. "Look at you, Mr. Rockstar."

Tommy shrugged, still uncomfortable with it all. "How did you know I was here?"

"Internet and good connections," Seth said. "You know I listened to your album six times before I realize it was you? I went nuts, you should have seen me. I was hoping you'd come here, eventually." Seth reached out, took his hand, thumb running over the plain gold ring on Tommy's left ring finger. "Wasn't sure you'd even remember me, but you clearly do."

Finally finding his voice, Tommy said, "Of course I do. You were the only one who believed dad never did it."

"How is your dad?"

"He's good, proud as fuck. I still don't know how I got to all this," he gestured to his designer clothes, watch. He'd been barely scraping by only months ago, and suddenly he had more money than god. Summoning a grin, ignoring his nerves, he asked, "So are you going to the concert? Never played at a stadium before, it's gonna be nuts."

Seth smiled, slow and hot, and Tommy remembered that goodbye kiss, that goodbye promise, all over again. "Got the best ticket money could buy, are you kidding? But I was secretly hoping that my secret fiance of ten years might be give me a special backstage pass."

"You know it," Tommy said, licking his lips again. "I've been looking everywhere I could think for you."

"You found me," Seth said softly, and reached up to cup his head, draw him down, the dim bar light glinting on the plain gold band on his own finger, put there at sixteen and never removed. Tommy whimpered as they kissed, unable to believe it really was Seth, finally, after too many years. "Welcome home," Seth said when they finally drew apart.

Tommy smile and finally sat down beside him at the bar. "So tell me what I missed. When did that stupid print shop finally close?"

Seth grinned and ordered them beers, then said, "Shut down the day after you left. Everything changed, exactly as a certain hit single says."

"Not everything," Tommy said, smiling. "Not the only thing that mattered."

"That never will," Seth said, and kissed him again briefly before launching into stories of all that Tommy had missed since leaving.