#the professionals

Tommy hadn’t been in the home gym before. It was more of a weight room, the only thing other than the benches and racks of dumbbells being some mats on the floor and a pull up bar. He watched Fletcher slide weights onto the bar and lay back on the bench.

“C’mere,” they said, tapping the bar to gesture him over. 

Tommy came to stand dutifully behind them, eyeing the weights skeptically.

“I don’t know that I can, uh…”

“I won’t push myself too hard,” Fletcher reassured him. “So I won’t need you to pull it off me. More like, if something happens, go get someone who can, I guess. Just put your hands here.”

Tommy gripped the bar, and Fletcher lifted it off the rack. They lowered it down to their chest and raised it up again, breathing slow. Their arms didn’t shake. Tommy counted the weights, trying to add them up.

“Wow,” he said shyly. “This probably weighs more than I do.” He gave a nervous laugh.

“It does,” Fletcher confirmed on an exhale. “I assume.”

They racked the bar and rolled up from the bench, looking Tommy over with a mischievous grin.

“Let’s find out. Cross your ankles and fold your arms in.”

Tommy did as he was told with only some hesitation. Fletcher leaned in and swooped him up, hoisting him across their shoulders. Tommy squeaked in surprise as Fletcher lowered themself into a squat and stood again, holding Tommy in place.

“Easy peasy,” they said, barely winded. “What do you weigh?”

“I - I don’t know.”

“I never really thought of…” Fletcher grunted as they did another squat. “All the applications. You should sit on my back while I do pushups.”

“U-uh, don’t you - oh! - think the weights would be better?” Tommy protested weakly. It wasn’t like it was the first time Fletcher had manhandled him. Caius had carried him sometimes when he was too injured, or too drugged… but he felt ridiculously weak as he was easily lifted. 

“What, you’re not having fun?” Fletcher laughed. They rose up abruptly, the inertia jostling Tommy.

“Well - careful! - I don’t, I mean, h-how would you like to be lifted like this?”

“That’s not something I factor into my treatment of you,” Fletcher said bluntly. Still, they leaned over and set Tommy back on his feet. He stumbled a bit as they released him.

“Oh, errr… right,” Tommy conceded lamely. He was flushed from being so easily handled. “Well… guess I’m… happy to help.” He looked around Fletcher’s workout room, surveying the equipment. “This is cool, though. Do you think it would be okay if, maybe, I used the gym sometime?”

“Mm…” Fletcher hummed in thought a moment. They bent their head down and lifted the bottom of their shirt to wipe the sweat from their face, then straightened up again, shaking out their tee and looking Tommy up and down. 

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, but he couldn’t resist eyeing Fletcher’s body. Anyone else who looked like that would be a lot more boastful about it than Fletcher was. They had a hard but streamlined physique, muscled without much obvious bulk under their baggy flannels and tees. They might not be the best candidate to ogle, but it wasn’t like Tommy had other options. Admittedly, he was feeling a little pent-up now that he didn’t even get Caius’s cruel touch. Stop. You’re so fucking embarrassing! Don’t– don’t even think about them like that. 

“I guess that’s alright,” Fletcher said. “I don’t think I have to worry about you overpowering me any time soon. And it’ll do you good when I have you working outside. You’ve put on a good amount of weight already.”

They said the last part in a positive tone, but it struck Tommy in the gut, fear tingling through him. How long until they decide he’s gained too much and start to take his food away? Were they being sarcastic? Throwing a jab at him to imply he was getting fat? Did Fletcher find him… less attractive now, even than before? Did they feel like he was eating too much, taking too much food? Did they want him to limit himself so they didn’t have to? Anxiety churned in his gut, and he wrapped his arms over his stomach self-consciously. 

“You wanna get on the bench?” Fletcher asked, gesturing to where they had just been.

“Uh…” No, not really. But he knew people did not ask him questions because they actually wanted to know what he thought. “Okay, sure.”

Tommy laid down on the bench, which was significantly more comfortable when he wasn’t being tied to it for a lesson. Sucking in his stomach a bit, self conscious now about any belly he might have. He wiggled to position himself under the bar, eyeing the weights already loaded on either side.  Back in his old life, he’d held a cheap gym membership when he was homeless so he had a safe place to shower. He didn’t work out much between his jobs, but he enjoyed it when he had the energy. He’d certainly never pressed nearly as much as Fletcher had been doing. “I’ll have to start slow… maybe just the bar at first?” 

“You got it!” Fletcher said with dismissive encouragement. They lifted the bar from its rests, all their weights still attached, and began to lower it toward Tommy’s chest.

“Wait - wait! Noooononono-” his voice wavered and rose into a squeak as the overloaded bar descended towards him. He tried to push it back up, but his arms couldn’t even begin to bear the strain. 

“Yeah, that’s it, weight,” Fletcher encouraged, struggling not to laugh. Tommy frantically tried to shove it off, but his arms easily folded against the pressure. 

“Okay, I’m gonna let go now,” Fletcher almost sang. They watched giddily as Tommy struggled and panicked for a few moments, keeping just enough weight off of him to keep it from crushing his chest, before lifting the bar back onto the rests.

Tommy sat up quickly, breathing hard.

“Well, sport, don’t let that discourage you,” Fletcher said. “I think the lowest weights here are 10 pound dumbbells. Maybe start with those, huh?”

“Uh… yeah,” Tommy said, rubbing his hand over his chest. “Can I, um, can I go grab something? I’ll be right back…?” 

Fletcher dismissed him, and Tommy scurried off to his room. He dug through his collection of loose papers, gathered the ones he needed, and hurried back. 

Standing outside the door, Tommy took a deep breath to steel himself. Fletcher had put on music in his absence and he could hear it through the door. 

“Now dance, fucker, dance,Man, he never had a chance…”

Tommy knew the song, but he couldn’t remember the words. Or the title. He knew it was The Offspring; that was something. It would come back to him as he listened to it. 

“Nice work you did,You’re gonna go far, kid…”

That was it!

Tommy opened the door and stepped into the room. Fletcher dropped down from the pull-up bar and paused the music.

“Hit ‘em right between the eyes,Hit ‘em right between-”

“What’s that?” Fletcher asked, nodding to the papers clutched in Tommy’s hands.

“Um, I was thinking, um, about - about diff- different ways to work out, and, um, I have some ideas, maybe, that I wanted to… tell you about?”

“Okay?”

Fletcher swung their towel over the back of their neck and came over to Tommy’s side to look. They were starting to sweat, and– No, NO, don’t be hot for teacher! Bad! Focus, freak!!

Tommy held out his sketch and started talking before Fletcher could immediately shut him down. 

“I was thinking that, you know, with the students here and all, maybe we could set up some kind of like, obstacle course in the backyard. I mean, the front yard. I mean– s-somewhere. But it could be like, a place for them to get um, you know like those ninja courses? Fitness– a fitness course, kinda.”

His drawing was simple, but laid out a few ideas for what was essentially an adult playground. There was a climbing net, a rock climbing wall, parallel bars, and even a balance beam. There were two rows of tires laid side-by-side at one part that Tommy was pretty sure he had seen used for football drills or something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what one was supposed to do with them. It was more about the concept.

“Mm, I don’t really want to have to clearcut any more of the woods,” Fletcher said. “And I need to keep the clearing open for the shooting range.”

“O-Oh,” Tommy said, trying to hide his disappointment as it weighed heavy in his stomach. How do you still get surprised by this? Why even try?

Fletcher took the paper with the climbing net and studied it closer.

“This would be a good idea if it were a chain link fence,” they allowed. “That’s something they’ll actually run into, and it would be helpful to get practice climbing one. If I just did a piece of fence, that wouldn’t take up too much room.”

They rifled through the rest of his papers as Tommy stood by, rubbing his arms and shifting from side to side. 

“Settle down,” Fletcher murmured, almost as if talking to themself. They didn’t raise their voice, nor their eyes from the sketches, but Tommy stilled immediately.

Fletcher pointed at one of the drawings.

“What is this?”

Tommy leaned in to see it and dropped his gaze to his hands, anxiously entangling. “A - A jungle gym,” he admitted quietly. 

Fletcher moved their finger. “And this is a swing set?”

“Yeah - yeah, I - this page is more of, um, like, playground stuff? I thought it might be fun to - be nice if… I… maybe we could get a - a tire swing, at least? And just tie it to a tree branch?” A tire swing seemed more Fletcher’s speed, if any kind of playground equipment could be. 

Fletcher stared at him for what felt like a long time before saying, “Maybe.”

Tommy let out the breath he was holding. 

“This’ll have to be a summer project,” Fletcher said. “We can start it in the spring, maybe. That’ll give us time to plot it out.”

We.

Tommy’s heart skipped a beat and fought to keep the smile growing on his face from getting too wide and dopey.

“I’d like that.” He managed to say it calmly.It was a beautiful thing, that one little word. It stuck him with Fletcher, sure, but it was different from the usual “I” and “you.” I give the orders and you follow them. Instead, this was we. We can work on it. Together. Something that was Tommy’s idea. Something that make his life - their life, together - a little bit happier.

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

@defire @jumpywhumpywriter @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @paperprinxe @desert-dyke

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @cursedandtired

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @utopian819 @pretty-face-breaker @thesuffererrrr @technicallydeliciousdeer

@notactuallyluska @whumpedydump @whump-queen @kivutardreams