hiddlesgasm | At the End of Day

They all file out of the studio amidst copious laughter, shoulders bumping into shoulders and the good-natured jokes and gentle ribbing that comes from a group of people that have spent so much together between filming and interviews and various appearances, conventions, and so on. It's their last interview for a few months, and Tom tries not to admit how sad he is about it as he steals a look at Robert through his lashes as he laughs lightly at something that Mark says. He knows that he should just ask, but it's the hard thing about being gay. That if you ask, and someone says no, it always makes things a little weird. And he's... he's just not willing to take that risk.

But, at the same time, things are so easy, so comfortable between them. The way that he'll touch him, comes up and hugs him, the hand at the small of his back those few times when they've done interviews as just the two of them. That warmth, the comfort of his presence. He's almost sure. Almost. But there's that niggling doubt, of being the only openly gay man on the cast, the fact that he just doesn't know, because there's always that chance. And he just... he doesn't want him to pull away from him.

Some of the others have tried to encourage him, to tell him to just ask him, but he always shies out of it. That warm smile and a shy look as he taps his slender fingers against his arms and tries not to make it obvious just how interested he is. But Robert is affectionate, warm, reassuring, always has that glimmer of dark promise in his eyes, that curve to his mouth, and he wants to kiss him, feel his body against his. But he doesn't quite have the courage.

He doesn't notice at first, when the other members of the cast start drifting off as the head back toward the limo that will drop them all off. It's not that rare for Scarlett to have things to do, or for Chris Evans to have an important phone call. What is weird is all of these things happening within about a five minute span of each other, so that by the time they make it out to the sidewalk, there's no one left heading to the limo except Robert and him, and it makes his heart skip. He sees what they're doing. And it's sweet, but infuriating, and he tries to pretend that he doesn't see what's going on but he can't help squirming a little and giving the other man a sheepish sort of look as his fingers brush against the back of his neck.

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“That it does,” he says, looking back at Tom. It’s obvious that they both know what’s going on. Tom looks as excited about the prospect of dinner alone, just the two of them, as he feels, mixed up with shy embarrassment. Tony knows because he’s known all along. Maybe not from the beginning, not from the same place that Tom did or when the others had noticed. It had started the way things were with the rest of the cast, friendly camaraderie, and slowly over the course of the months spent filming, things had begun to change. He hadn’t noticed until the first time that a touch lingered a little too long, when he decided to push a little further, test to see if the sneaking suspicion he had was right by asking Tom to squeeze harder on that take and it broke both their characters because it flustered Tom and ultimately they’d devolved into helpless laughter because the alternative that was suddenly on both of their minds wasn’t something that they could consider with cameras rolling.

But from then on, Tony knew they were both thinking it. At times when they had to come close, when they had to touch or made excuses to, they were thinking of how they might touch if they were out of the scrutinizing eye of the cameras. But still, they’d never spoken of it, never discussed it. He’s not sure now why he never had. Of course, there always had been the risk of him saying no and they’d still have to work together. The twin risk of him saying yes, and navigating how that would change things.

“Good. Glad that’s settled,” Robert says, and he notices the brief moment where Tom looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself in the face of this, and stifles down the smile that’s tugging the corner of his mouth enough that it doesn’t look like the full-blown, goofy grin it feels like. He’s excited at the prospect of this. He follows Tom into the limo and pulls the door shut behind himself. It’s the first time that they’ve been intentionally alone in… well, ever. It’s happened, sure, here and there, between takes, at events, but never like this. Now it’s his turn to be awkward, just a little bit. “They’re not terribly subtle, are they?” he asks, finally broaching the topic.

There's that smile on Robert's face, and it has an echoing expression curving Tom's lips as he looks across the limo into those warm brown eyes. His gaze lingers just a moment before slipping off to the side with a soft hint of a laugh as he drags his knuckles against the side of his jaw, a little shy about the whole situation.

"Certainly not. Although, I don't think subtle was their intention," he says with a hint of amusement as much as embarrassment. He can't help the fact that he's still flustered, even as the fact that Robert asked him out to dinner is still sinking in. Of course, they were all supposed to go to dinner together, but it's different now, and they both know it.

He's still a little nervous, but then the words are off his lips and he's looking a little unsettled. "I think they all know that I like you." It comes out as a soft murmur, a brief slide of his eyes and a shy huff of laughter that's not really amusement as it twists into a sigh. He's nervous, still. A little unsure, timid, and based on how his hands fidget, the other actor might be able to read just how badly Tom wants to reach out for his hands, like back during the interview.

Good Lord, but Tom is gorgeous, he thinks to himself as he catches sight of how he looks but tries not to seem as though he’s looking, fidgeting, fingers drawing along his jaw, drawing his attention there and to his neck. He knows he’s not the only person who sees just how handsome he is — Tom is becoming an increasingly popular actor and the world loves him for it — but he thinks maybe he’s the only one who sees him quite like this. Nervous and fidgeting, adorable more than handsome (though he is both), not sure what to do with himself and awkward even though he doesn’t have to be. But then again, Robert supposes he could say the same of himself, because he’s feeling more than a little bit awkward himself, and there’s likely no reason for it. Of course, knowing it is different than accepting it, and there’s no amount of logic that’s going to completely quiet his nerves right now.

Robert had some snappy comeback all prepared about how they’d have to get back at them for this, exact revenge, play some sort of prank, but before he manages to say anything, Tom goes and says that. It derails that line of thinking entirely because up until now it’s been all assumption. All obsessing over lingering glances or touches, or the way that Tom sometimes seems to lean into him, always chooses to sit beside him when the option is presented. Now, it’s right there, utterly undeniable, taking any remaining question away, as if there really had been any question at all.

Tom’s nervous. It doesn’t take a genius to know that, but the two of them have, for a while, had a sort of symbiosis. In press events and interviews they’d sit or stand side by side and just by virtue of being so close, one of them leaning into the other, both of them were calmer, more relaxed. It’s automatic, happens without thinking, Robert leaning into him or hugging him and passing it off as though he’s trying to interrupt, picking up on the need and moving in on it. He reaches over and lays a hand on Tom’s knee and rubs up along his thigh to take one of Tom’s hands and pulls it over towards him, thumb rubbing over the back of his hand very matter-of-factly.

“I think we owe them a big thank-you,” Robert says, at first very seriously, and then with a slowly spreading, secret grin.

At the End of Day

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