For elandrialore, prompt: t-shirt
Tom lifts the hem of his perspiration-sodden t-shirt and wipes
his forehead with the hem. “Come on, bring it, Rosenbaum.”
Michael dribbles the ball, grinning. He’s almost as sweaty as Tom but it’s less
obvious because of his close-cropped hair. It’s only evident if you look in
other places, like his scarred upper lip.
Michael breaks, fakes his way left and then goes right around Tom. Even though
Tom has a few inches on him, Michael has a good lay-up and he knows it.
But it leaves them both breathless when Tom bends down to kiss the victory smirk
away.
For miss_tress, who wanted ping-pong
When they can’t find a ping-pong ball, Michael decrees that
they will use an invisible ball. Tom, who’s still giggling helplessly under the
table at the word ‘ping-pong’, is joined now by Jared, felled by the combination
of the words ‘invisible’ and ‘ball’. They both get giddy when they’re stoned.
Michael kicks at Tom, then lobs the invisible ball over towards Jensen. Jensen
taps it back. They go on for a while, making popping noises and pretending not
to notice the way that two overgrown boys are making the table jiggle and scrape
on the floor.
“Mine’s prettier,” says Michael.
For itsaslashy thing, snow skis and sunscreen
“Son of a bitch!”
Tom looks over Michael’s shoulder, into his suitcase. There’s sunscreen
everywhere. Michael’s boxers will smell like coconuts forever.
“You should really put stuff like that in a plastic bag,” says Tom, going over
to get his skis.
“We drove an *hour*, to get to *Whistler*,” grouches Michael. “It’s not exactly
a fucking intercontinental flight.”
Tom watches Michael’s expression darken as he surveys the mess. At this rate,
they’re not going to hit the slopes today. Tom opens his own suitcase and throws
a baggie in Michael’s direction.
“Lube’s still good,” he announces, and watches Michael beam.
For hyperfocused, who wanted barista!Mike with coffee-making instruction
“You’re so not paying attention,” says Michael.
“Uh huh,” answers Tom, but his jaw’s hanging slack and he’s fixated on Michael’s
hand as it scoops espresso grounds out of the bag.
“You have to pay attention,” says Michael. “I’m not going to do this every day
for the rest of our lives.”
“Show the part with the steam wand again,” says Tom roughly. Then he blinks and
abruptly looks up to meet Michael’s eyes. “The rest of our lives?” he repeats.
“Or, you know, until I get tired of you,” Michael amends with a grin.
“The rest of our lives.”
For kristiinthedark, who wanted a follow-up to Life, Non-Fat
“So, it’s been about six months. We just wanted everyone to
know, officially.” Tom nods twice and jams his hands in his pockets.
The room is a sea of dropped jaws. It’s more than a little disconcerting. If
this were a seventh-grade health class, Tom would take questions now. He fights
the urge to offer answers anyway.
Beside him, Michael is bored. He’s got a straw in his mouth and he’s chewing on
it while he swirls the melting ice at the bottom of his plastic cup. He only
likes cast parties once everyone’s drunk.
Allison speaks first. “Well, *duh*.”
For without_me, just back from hiatus (with a shout-out to estrella30's beard theories)
“Please say it was some kind of fucked-up contest,” Jensen
pleads.
Tom and Michael exchange glances, grinning. Tom looks like a yeti. Michael looks
like Jensen’s creepy Uncle Steve. Jen can’t decide which is worse.
“Seriously, you guys are going to scare away all your fans.”
“Hiatus beards!” they chorus, and high-five. Jensen rolls his eyes.
“Hiatus beards!” whoops Jared, bursting into the room, and they all turn to look
at him. Jared lifts a hand and scrapes it over his thinly-stubbled chin,
abruptly self-conscious.
“You’re supposed to stop shaving for three months,” Tom frowns.
“I did,” answers Jared, hurt.