#tommyjon

“Ella!” Tommy screams as he runs into the street. There’s a tiny knot of ponytailed heads clustered around Miss Grace in the street and he counts them automatically as he runs towards them. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen- “Ella?” 

Grace looks up, looking even younger than she normally does in the flashing light of the firetrucks and the distant glow of the flames that are - God - licking out of the studio windows. “I-” she looks around, visibly counting heads for the third or fourth time, “she went to the bathroom, a few minutes before… I didn’t even think- Mr. Vietor!” 

Tommy’s already running towards the trucks, towards the building, towards his baby.

 “Ella!” he gasps, eyes tearing up from the fear and the smoke. “I’m coming honey.”

Suddenly Tommy’s body comes to a screeching halt, even though he’s pretty sure his feet are still moving. He looks down to see that he’s been body-blocked by a short, solid firefighter, pushing his face shield up to frown at Tommy. 

“You can’t go closer, we’ve got the situation under control,” the firefighter tells him firmly. 

“My kid is in there!” Tommy yells, not recognizing his own choked desperate voice as he hears it. “Please, she’s only seven, I gotta-”

“There’s a-” the firefighter takes a step back, not letting go of his firm grip on Tommy’s arms. “Look,” he squeezes Tommy’s arms. “Hey, look at me.” Tommy tears his eyes away from the flames with difficulty to meet kind eyes that look through his adrenaline haze to be laced with steel. “I’m going to get her out. You stay right here, you hear me? I’m going to get your daughter.”

Tommy forces himself to nod, stiffly. It feels like he’s watching in slow motion as the firefighter tugs his mask on and runs determinedly to the window that’s been broken open by the hoses. 

“Lovett!” A distant voice calls. “That roof isn’t going to hold.” 

“There’s a kid inside!” The firefighter turns to call. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Ella,” Tommy whispers, or maybe yells, wrapping his arms around himself and watching the firefighter’s dark shadow disappear into the flames. The cacophony of noise surrounding him fades, the world narrowing to that bright fiery spot, the pounding of his heart, the singsong repeating rhyme Ella had been singing in the car as they drove over for her lesson. 

Then it’s all drowned out by a sickening, echoing whoosh of air and sound that sounds like an oncoming train. 

“The roof!” Someone yells, and the men holding hoses are moving, rapidly towards the building. 

Tommy squints his eyes shut as the flames get brighter, like closing them tightly might make this a bad dream, might make Ella crawl into his bed with her cold feet to wake him up. If there was ever a time to have magic wishes or the ability to time travel, he thinks manically, it’s now. 

“Daddy!” 

Tommy squeezes his eyes tighter. Maybe it’s working. He’s in bed, he’s dreaming, he’s not watching a building crumble with the most important person in the world stuck inside.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Her voice is louder, and raspier, and she’s crying and Tommy forces his eyes open. 

“Ella!” She’s there, in the firefighter’s arms, shaking and covered in soot, but beautifully, perfectly alive and reaching out for him. Tommy takes three running steps and then he’s picking her up, cradling her close. “I’m here, Ella, I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

Ella nestles into his chest, soaking Tommy’s t-shirt with tears. 

“Take her over to that ambulance,” the firefighter orders, tapping Tommy’s arm. “She’ll be okay, but you need to get her checked out.”

“I-” Tommy looks down at him, heart pounding “Thank you.” 

Lovett sighs again, drawing his knees up. “Fine, but, if this one has another hour wait or is closed for health code violations, I’m throwing in the towel.”

Tommy snorts. His attempts to keep Lovett pre-occupied while Jon did whatever the fuck Jon has been doing for the last hour may not have been Tommy’s strongest moments. “That’s fair. One more, and we’ll get chicken nuggets and a handle of vodka.”

“Honestly? That sounds heavenly,” Lovett continues, lying around a yawn as the light turns green and Tommy eases them into the right lane. “All I ask is the movie pick. I’ll even give you a free pass to fall asleep halfway through.”

Tommy shakes his head as he pulls into the parking lot of the fancy new Mexican place Tanya had booked before it even opened to the public. “Next year we won’t schedule tour weekend right before your birthday.”

Lovett shrugs, “our fledgling media company is more important than my birthday,” and sighs as he sees how packed the parking lot is. “This place is going to be impossible. It just opened last week.”

Tommy shrugs and opens his door, hoping that Lovett’s too annoyed to recognize any of the cars in the lot. “Let’s just see, come on.”

Lovett sighs as he pulls Pundit into his arms and falls into step next to Tommy, barely stifling a yawn. “I’m not even that hungry anymore.”

“I know all your tells,” Tommy reminds him as he holds open the door and lets Lovett in first. “So stop lying and get the fuck inside.”

Lovett frowns. “I am not lying-”

Tommy winks at the hostess as he steps into the shadows, watching the surprise roll down Lovett’s back. Lovett’s muscles tighten at the first shouts of “surprise!” and then loosen and unfurl, exhaustion leaking out of him as he grins and steps into the circle of their friends.

Tommy smiles to himself as he turns to the bar, grabbing a drink and watching Lovett make his way around the room. This is all he’s wanted, in the months since they started planning this party, before they knew they’d be away on tour, before they knew how exhausting life as media moguls really is. 

Tommy’s still at the bar, a fresh margarita in his hand as Lovett settles next to him. He has a leis around his neck and a margarita in one hand and a taco in the other. One of the giant Pundit masks Emily had made up and glued to popsicle sticks is shoved into his back pocket. Tommy grabs it and holds it to his face. “Were you surprised?”

Lovett finishes the taco and wipes his hand on a napkin, reaching into his other back pocket for his phone to take a picture. “I really thought you were taking me on a tour of WeHo’s least possible birthday restaurants.”

Tommy snorts, pulling the mask down and placing it on the counter. “It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”

“It was pretty clever,” Lovett shakes his head. “I can’t believe you pulled this all off. You really did all this? For me?”

Tommy nods. His three margaritas clench in his throat as he meets the intensity of Lovett’s gaze. “Of course I- we- did. Happy Birthday, Jon.”

Lovett shakes his head, his eyes darkening as he rises onto his toes and presses their lips together. His mouth is soft, his lips parting as he slides his tongue against Tommy’s, tasting like salt and lime and almost more spice than Tommy can handle. Tommy groans in surprise, catching Lovett’s waist with his free hand, pushing closer and closer, taking as much as he can before Lovett falls back to the balls of his feet.

“Lovett?” Tommy swallows.

Lovett grins, pulling the leis over his head and dropping it around Tommy’s neck. He pushes a strand of hair behind Tommy’s ear. “Come join the party, Tommy.”