#tom. threads

Given that he hadn’t been able to torment Joe properly in years, there’s an anticipatory shiver that rolls down his spine when Fish smiles. He does, naturally, miss the obvious playfulness of it all.

Nod gives way to a quirked brow, smile falling into something a bit more contemplative. “Depends on what kinda mischief you’re plannin’ on gettin’ up to, doesn’t it?” He’s always had a bit of a ‘follower’ streak, though, behind all the youthful gusto, so it doesn’t take much consideration for Tom to make up his mind.

Hiding emotion from Tom was, unfortunately for Phee, harder than she might’ve hoped. It was one of the many things he had going for him: emotional sensitivity, empathy, a certain amount of stubborn self-sacrifice for the sake of people he cared about. If he was prone to dramatics, he likely would’ve said something terribly dramatic about how the pain in their hearts drew them to each other. He wasn’t actually that eloquent, though, so he settled for bringing their interlocked hands to his lips and placing a kiss haphazardly upon them.

He clears his throat, stops just short of a sigh as he gauges the best way to proceed. Glossing over it probably won’t help either of them, but it’s still probably the best way forward. “We better. I’d be fucked if I didn’t have you here. Gross sobbin’ into a pint’a Ben & Jerry’s, or somethin’ like that.”