love, lust, lestat.

He manages to clean himself up, does a decent enough job with the wash cloth he finds in the shower stall, and Sal definitely tries not to focus on how strongly Tommy's body wash smells in here. He swipes some of the moisturizer he knows is Bucks—has heard him complain about the cost and watched him put it on enough times by now— and hisses when it hits the beard burn and teeth marks that dot his jaw and neck. There's small finger tip bruises dotted along his hips and up his sides, and on his back, over his left shoulder blade Sal can feel the way the imprint of teeth throb in time with his heart beat.

Christ. The crew are going to give him so much shit for this.

Sal considers grabbing Tommy's sweater that's hanging on the back of the bathroom door, all of him wants too. But all of him also wants to just step back into the bedroom and crawl back under the sheets and—

Sal shakes his head and carefully opens the bathroom door, wincing as it creaks in the dark of the bedroom. Faint morning light is starting to creep through the window and Sal knows it'll be enough to wake Tommy before long. His friend lives and dies by the sun most days. Except last night.

Last night when their weekly hangout—when Sal feels like he's intruding on their date night despite how they tell him he's not—and they drank enough beer and tequila to blur the lines Sal had been trying so hard to keep in the sand despite the slowly rising tide.

A quick scan of the floor yields Sal's pants, and he slips them on with a wince as fire licks up his spine. An ache he'll savour, a reminder of the way—

"Where do you think you're going?"

Sal flinches, ducks and freezes all at once. Leaves him half twisted around to look at where Tommy's propped himself up on an elbow, watching Sal from his spot in the bed. Heart in his throat, Sal tears his eyes away from everything he's been wanting for the past two years. Ever since Buck and Tommy got their shit back together and then proceeded to keep inviting Sal into more and more aspects of their now intertwined lives.

And like the weak man he was, Sal fucking went. Went knowing that it would eventually end exactly like it is now.

"H-Hey, didn't mean to wake you." Sal whispers, aiming for normal as his eye go back to the floor, continuing to search of his shirt. Fuck but maybe he'll just grab the one of Buck's he can see and just mail it back to them later. Not sure how he's survive the look on Buck's face, the one that would be so sweet and kind while still telling him 'never again'. Maybe it's good that Tommy was the one woke up. He's good at hiding from Tommy… but Buck? Evan… Fuck the kid somehow sees right through him. He finally spots the corner of his t-shirt and sighs a breath of relief as he picks it up. "Thanks for last night."

"You're thanking us." Tommy huffs.

"After all, w-what's a little fooling around between friends right? " Sal chuckles. Fake, and a little too loud in the dim of the room. "Ain't gotta mean anything but I, but I should probably go-"

"I told Evan you'd be sticking around for breakfast." Tommy says, gentle yet firm. In that controlled way he usually keeps for the cockpit. "I think it's the only reason he even fell asleep."

Sal inhales sharply. Because what?

Tommy lifts a bitchy eyebrow, one that loses no potency for the pillow case lines on his cheek, or the bit of sleep still clinging to his insanely long lashes. He pushes back the last of the blankets and stands.

Gods, he's beautiful. And Sal has looked before, but not like this. He's never known the way Tommy tasted, the way he sounded, face twisted up in pleasure. Sal's had Tommy's hands on him for years, but not in the places he touched last night. Skin and feelings that came alive as Buck panted in his ear.

Golden skin and tawny brown chest hair almost glows in the faint light as Tommy stalks towards him, naked and stunning in a way that puts all the Italian sculptors Sal knows to shame.

Tommy gets just within arms reach of him before hooking his fingers into the waistband of Sal's jeans and tugging.

Sal doesn't stumble, just lets Tommy lead him into closeness. Lets his eyes fall closed as he's pulled into a gentle kiss, one that makes his toes curl in the stupidly fuzzy mat Buck bought for the room. Their breath is stale with the faintest hint of beer and spunk and… Sal thinks he should pull away. Should get some distance.

But when Sal does pull back, there's such a deep look of want and hunger in Tommy's eyes that Sal thinks he can feel his self preservation simply roll over and give up.

"Come back to bed." Tommy whispers, voice softer now. Like he saw the way Sal gave into him—into them— so easily last night and wants him to keep doing that.

Sal opens his mouth to object, but Tommy's hand moves from his jeans, to settle sleep warm and strong on his hip and suddenly he can't. He just nods and lets Tommy kiss him once more, like a reward for good behaviour, before Sal drops the shirt and lets Tommy guide him back towards the bed.

"Bedisanopantszone." Buck grumbles hand coming up out of his cocoon of blankets to point at Sal the moment they hit the edge of the mattress.

Even Tommy startles, so Sal doesn't feel so bad at nearly jumping out of his skin. Tommy recovers first and his hands settle on Sal's waist before sliding around to the button of his jeans, and it's so much like the previous night that Sal feels his heart rate tick up at the motion.

Sal kicks them away when Tommy pushes them down far enough, and Sal feels Tommy's hand settle low on his back, but… Sal's already going. Stepping back up to the bed and crawling in until he's close enough for buck to grab him.

"Told you." Buck grumbles, sleepy blue eyes barely cracked open as he gives Tommy a flat unimpressed look. "I know my runners."

Tommy winces and Sal frowns glancing between them, but then Tommy's sliding back into bed behind him and the next thing Sal knows Buck is pressed along his front, arms and legs wrapping around him like an octopus.

Sal falls onto his back and Buck easily goes with him adjusting his hold until Sal is pinned to the mattress and Buck can rest his head on Sal's pec.

It's not… awful.

He wants to laugh at himself, Sal does. Because this is fucking everything he only ever dreamed of and Sal knows he's going to get used to this so quickly. He glances at Tommy who is already watching them like; yes, this is right. This is the only place any of us should be.

And in the marrow of his marrow, Sal doesn't want to be anywhere else either.

He drops his head back onto the pillow, before letting it fall sideways to rest on Tommy's arm, even as his own come up and wrap around Buck. Not that the other man needs any help to stay close, Sal's sure he's going to start overheating any second now…

But what the hell.