#toxic!sal

Another short scene from what I am affectionately calling the Toxic Sal fic. This is one of the things borne out of the fact that I've been suppressing all of my angsty thoughts for Fluffebruary. Sal is awful, and I love him.

“Obviously we’re going to have to get married,” Sal tells Gina plainly over a quiet dinner. There’s a flicker of something in her face that Sal attributes to morning sickness before it’s replaced with relief.    He feels his blood heat at the thought that she might have been worried he wouldn’t step up, but he can’t blame her.  He hadn’t reacted well when she’d told him about the pregnancy.

“I don’t know,” Gina starts, hesitant before she trails off.

“What’s there to think about?” Sal asks, incredulous.  “You’re pregnant, and unless there’s a chance the kid isn’t mine, we’ll get married and give the kid the family it deserves.”]

“No,” Gina breaths out, shaking her head vehemently.  “There hasn’t been anyone else.  This baby is definitely yours.” “Then it’s settled,” Sal intones with a nod, ignoring the hypocrisy of accusing her of being unfaithful.  He pulls out the box with the ring he’d picked out, mere hours after fucking another man’s face and making the guy get off on his boot.  “We’ll get married, and all make sure you guys want for nothing.”

For @bluroux, who's been asking for more Sal lately - here's some more of the Toxic!Sal half brained idea that almost no one is asking for. Sal is the worst in this, but I love him for it.

I would call this M, but it's under the cut just in case.

Tommy has the whiskey and shot glasses in hand when he opens the door to his small, studio apartment.  Their usual routine on their four off is to go out and hook up.  But the cost of drinks in LA is highway robbery, and it’s nice to go out with a bit of a buzz.  Sal takes the shot glass and lets Tommy fill it, but he looks Tommy up and down, eyes heated, as their fingers brush together.

Toxic Sal, my beloved. He's aweful, and I love him so much. Thank you for the ask for the Make Me Write (asks still open). This can double for Sal Saturday this week!

“You’re going to get our boot killed!” Tommy bites out in a whisper, slamming the door to his locker.  He’s not looking at Sal as he says it, but Sal can feel the anger radiating off of him and the clench of his jaw from his profile.

He turns to Tommy, resting nonchalantly against the lockers.  Crossing his arms over his chest he grins, all canines.  “Why, Tommy?  You jealous? You’re the one who gave this up.”

“Fuck you, Sal!  You have that kid so turned around he doesn’t know which way is up.”  If Sal didn’t know better, he’d say Tommy was genuinely worried about the kid; but Tommy doesn’t get attached to fresh meat. “You ask him to jump, he doesn’t even ask how high.”

“If Buckley can’t handle himself on the scene then maybe this isn’t his calling,” Sal says with a shrug.  The kid is a good lay, but it’s not his job to babysit the kid.

Rounding on Sal, Tommy draws himself up to his full height; he looks ready to go to bat for Buckley.