#back to your regularly scheduled tomposting in the coming days... we'll see when i post my next fic. might take a while :P

[tomfoolies]

selfshiptober: tomja edition days 28-31

WE'RE DONE. 31 DAYS OF TOMJA ALL FINISHED. WHAT?? i can't believe an entire month has passed and i managed to spend pretty much all my evenings writing these little snippets. more thoughts and stats to come later but. have these last 4 fics <3 you're a real champ if you've read even just a few of these along the way and i APPRECIATE IT A LOT!!!

28. brush

He wakes before he really needs to, but instead of going back to sleep he turns to look at her. Last night ended with him curled up by her side, tucked under her arm, but they've drifted apart during the night.

On her side of the bed (it does something to him that they have their sides now) she's curling into herself, almost as if aware of being watched — subconsciously shielding herself from being perceived. Her expression even when asleep is one of focus, bordering on restraint. Taking her time letting her guard down. He can't reprimand her for that.

Before he can think about it, he reaches over to graze her cheek. His touch steady but hesitant, her skin soft and cold from the night. He's being selfish, perhaps, with no consideration for her sleep, but he blames it on finally getting to do something he's wanted to for a long time now.

She rouses slowly at first, then blinks at him, her expression softening when she comes to. Shuffling closer until her forehead touches his chest, she wraps her arm around him. He's certain she can hear the blood rushing through him, feel his heart skip and stumble.

29. pumpkin

Her favourite, the one she uses the most, cultivates it without the fear of ever getting bored of it. Usually said with great fondness and affection, pride for coming up with it in the first place. Occasionally with the possessive determiner, just to make sure everyone knows who she's talking about. That's my Tomfoolery for you.

Trying to keep the moment light, whenever he's feeling particularly stressed or anxious and she's giving him a gentle reality check. But she makes sure to say it sincerely nevertheless, usually with a grounding touch. Hey, Tomathan. It's gonna be fine.

Specific moments with this one; when she wants to compliment him casually, when she's fixing his attire or when she's drunk and feeling playful. Often paired with her favourite touch of affection, a quick pat on his cheek before she reaches up for a kiss. A long, lingering look. Hold still, pretty boy.

These she reserves for those times when the conversation between them has turned otherwise wordless and she knows there's enough space for them. She'll say them sparingly so that they'll feel different. Sighing them into his shoulder, whispering them into his hair. I know, baby. Such a good boy.

30. flowers

On one of those rare days when Tom goes to work before Sonja, she takes her time in the morning. Leaves the dogs to snooze the day away, and instead of her usual ride she decides to take the subway like she always used to. An almost nostalgic reminder of the time before they started dating and her use of New York's public transportation system was far more regular.

It wasn't as exciting as she remembered; loud and lackluster, crowded yet strangely lonely, a great distance between each commuter. She sighs in relief when she gets to step into the Waystar building. The grey dullness and invisible separation continues here, but it feels much more contained, more professional. Something she's accustomed to handling.

When she finally makes it to her desk and sets her bag down with a sigh, she notices it.

A whole bouquet of carnations. Her favourites. She doesn't have to check the little tag to know who they're from.

A simple, bright spot in the mundane. She smiles to herself, glances around; everyone else still lost in their own routine, unaware of these tiny ways the monotone and the jaded feels special, even if just for a moment.

31. halloween 

The beige suit with the double pockets, his stupid white midlife-crisis sneakers, wings of scrappy but soft feathers. Only the halo is missing to complete the look, but she can imagine it easily enough. A little bit crooked most likely, but it'd only add to the atmosphere, the allegory of it all.

She might have a thing for him pretending to be something he's not. Being seen by others the way she sees him when she's got the rose-coloured glasses on, in all its over-romanticized devotion.

Or maybe she just likes seeing him dressed up, in her favourite suit of his. Getting to stand next to him in her devil-horns and maroon outfit. Pretending to not notice the glances from the other quests. Neither of them big on celebrating this particular holiday, but when the opportunity arises...

But things are getting a bit boring. So she hides her invitation for a private meeting in his office from the people around them in a calm, casual whisper. She doesn't miss the familiar yet thrilling flash of desire in his eyes when he catches onto her idea.

She smiles smugly to herself as she leaves him behind with a lingering touch. Eager to get this angel to fall from grace.