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thescarletfang · 2 years ago

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The Sweetest Kind of Trouble

Well, here it is! My fluffier-than-fluff Tommy Miller fic. Seriously, this is so soft, y’all. I just didn’t have the mental capacity to go dark for this one. Sometimes it be like that! I just really wanted to write a very tender Tommy Miller fic without the looming threat of the end of the world.

Word count: ~8.3k (my longest fic lol who am I what is happening)

Summary: You meet Tommy when he comes in looking for flowers for a first date. He’s trouble from the start.

Tommy Miller x f!reader, AU, no outbreak.

Warnings: Some spice at the end! I think that’s it?? Let me know if I missed anything but I mean...this is SO FLUFFY.

I hope you enjoy. I just want to give Tommy Miller all of the love he deserves!!

He came in looking for flowers.

You noticed him immediately - his tall, broad frame adorned in faded Levi’s, his gray, collared shirt open and unbuttoned with a white tank top underneath, a cowboy hat on his head and dark shades hiding his eyes. You could tell he was beautiful immediately, even with his sunglasses on. The way his black locks curled under the hat made your fingers itch, the desire to run your hands through them a little shocking since you’d only laid eyes on him thirty seconds ago. His boots were as study as his large hands that ran along the cracked, wooden gate that led into where you stood behind the register.

You liked working at Daisywood Farms, especially in the springtime. The Texas sky was usually a vibrant shade of blue, the steady buzz and hum of insects the perfect background melody. You liked the way the heat made you sweat. You were a summer baby after all, coming alive in the warmer weather, so it never bothered you none when Austin got real warm. You felt yourself bloom under the sun.

You really liked working in the marketplace at Daisywood Farms. It was open and bustling and there was everything from blackberry jam to mason jars of moonshine to apple and rhubarb pie - and flowers. So many flowers, black-and-yellow bees dancing through the outdoor marketplace, floating from daisies to sunflowers to carnations and sprigs of baby’s breath. You reveled in the different scents; rejoiced in the way your sundress moved with the humid breeze and your hair frizzed around the crown of your head.

You’d decided at thirty to go back to school and earn your master’s degree in English Literature, and working at Daisywood Farms from the springtime through autumn was a nice respite amidst your studies. You worked part-time, it paid for your apartment and books, and it allowed you to get out of your head. You found yourself content for the first time in a long time - you had a routine. You had friends - good ones, too. You had your own place, a little two bedroom with hardwood floors and natural light and a windowsill for your flowers and space for all of your books. You were - for all intents and purposes - happy.

You did not expect Tommy Miller.

After you initially noticed him, you went back to work, ringing up an older woman for an entire case of moonshine, having to bite your lip from laughing when she told you it was because her husband was getting on her last nerve. You packed away her jars and sent her on her way, and your eyes crinkled from smiling as you watched her leave.

A few minutes later, you looked up from wiping down the counter when you heard a throat clear. It was the guy with the hat and the boots and the hair and the–

“Um, miss, I don’t wanna be a bother, but I could sure use your help.”

You immediately thought that his voice didn’t have to be that deep and that raspy. Did this man walk out of one of those trashy romance novels you’d read on the beach last summer? You felt flustered as he took off his sunglasses and you were met with puppy-dog brown eyes. At the distance he stood from you now, you could see a smattering of freckles along his cheeks, and he was grinning. You’d never been smitten with a stranger this quickly before, but this man was simply beautiful. You couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. Your eyes flickered over his face despite your best attempts to remain unafflicted.

He looked at you expectantly, and you came back to your senses. You cleared your throat. Your face was hot.

You found your voice. “What can I help you with?”

His grin was very distracting, you noted. He tapped his fingertips on the counter and you felt your lips quirking up in the corner, despite yourself. Whoever this man was, he made you want to smile, and that was alright by you.

“Got me a first date tonight,” he said. “And my niece says bums like me should bring flowers to a first date.”

You laughed, despite the twinge of disappointment at the fact that this man had a date lined up. That’s what you get for being flustered with a stranger.

“Your niece sounds very smart.”

His eyes glittered as he nodded, hanging his sunglasses on the collar of his white undershirt. He rapped his knuckles twice on the counter.

“Smartest person I know, that’s for damn sure,” he said. You nodded, pulling up the wooden barrier on the side of the cash register counter, coming out from around the corner to stand in this man’s space. You thought for a second his eyes flicked over your body, taking you in, but you were sure you’d imagined it.

“Well, we have lots of options for a first date,” you told him, the two of you walking toward the rows and rows of flowers that Daisywood Farms was known for. “What’s this girl like?”

The man chuckled lowly, reaching up and taking the cowboy hat off his head, holding it close to his chest. You tried not to stare at the disheveled curls, tried to not to marvel at how beautiful his head of hair was.

Dear god, woman. Get it together!

“I don’t really know,” the man admitted. “I asked for her number at the bar the other night and well, now here we are.”

You paused in front of a sprig of lavender and pulled it out of its place, holding it up to your nose. You breathed in deeply, the familiar scent warming you down to your toes. You looked up to find the man staring at you.

“Hmm.” Your fingers traced against the sprigs in your hand. “You honestly can’t go wrong with lavender, maybe mixed with a few wildflowers in there.”

He kept looking at you and you felt rooted to the spot. “That your favorite? Lavender?”

You nodded. “I’d say so. I like to always have some on my breakfast table. Brightens up my morning while I have my coffee and do some reading.” Am I talking too much? It felt like you were talking too much.

He watched you for a moment, not saying anything. It almost felt as if he was studying you. And then he reached over, picking up a bunch of daffodils.

“I think these’ll do.” His eyes flickered back to you. “She don’t seem like a lavender girl.”

You pursed your lips, putting back your lavender bunch, trying to decide if that stung or not. She must be really different than me.

“I don’t think you needed much of my help.” You led him away from the flowers and he put his hat back on. As you lifted the wooden barrier to situate yourself behind the register, you heard him chuckle. When you turned around to face him, hand outstretched for the daffodils, he was grinning.

“Sure I did. How else I’d know that lavender brighten up a morning while you do some reading?”

You bit your lip, trying to put a clamp on your smile but it felt a little futile. You thought maybe he picked up on it because as you rang up his total, his eyes sparkled with something like mischief.

“I’m Tommy Miller.” Your eyes shot up to meet his, momentarily pausing in punching in the price in the ancient register. You liked the way he said his full, government name to you. It made you want to laugh. He’s so damn cute.

“Are you, now?” You couldn’t help but tease him a little and he breathed out a chuckle, the sound low and rich, like a dark roast coffee. You smirked as he looked away for a minute, his smile crooked. When his eyes flicked back to you, you couldn’t help but suck in a breath.

Ugh. What is wrong with me? He’s just a guy, getting some flowers for his girl.

Maybe you were lonelier than you thought you were. Maybe it was time to take up Vanessa - your best friend - on her offer to set you up with one of her coworkers. She had mentioned a guy named Jake had thought you were cute when you’d joined them for happy hour drinks a few weeks back. You can barely remember what he looked like, but a vague picture of a dude floated in your head. You remember thinking he was nice.

“Can I ask your name?” You were brought back to the present and to the man - Tommy - in front of you. He sounded hopeful and friendly and not at all like some of the more aggressive men you’d encountered out in Texas nightlife. This Tommy Miller - he felt open. He felt safe.

Maybe you were an idiot for thinking that after a few minutes of interaction, but you prided yourself on your instincts.

Which was why you told him your name. He repeated it back to you, the grin permanent on his face. You had to look down or else you were worried you’d completely melt. You wrapped his flowers up as you told him the total. As he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, you cut a piece of twine, wrapping it around the bundle of daffodils.

You gave him the flowers as he handed you cash. He held them up to his nose, smelling for a moment, before looking at you. He was looking at you through his dark, too-long-to-be-good-for-him lashes, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You gestured with your hand toward the bouquet.“She’s gonna love them. Daffodils are a perfect first-date flower.”

“Alright then.” He nodded. “Now if this date goes badly and she hates them, I may have you to blame, yeah?”

You laughed. “Well I did suggest lavendar, so…”

Tommy stood there and you thought for a moment maybe he wanted to say something. But he didn’t and you filled the silence for him.

“Well…enjoy your date, Tommy.”

“You work here often?” The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, as if he couldn’t contain them much longer. Your eyebrows rose almost to your hairline.

“I do. Part-time.” He looked at you and his expression was so open that you felt yourself offering more. “I’m back in school, getting my master’s degree, so I work here through autumn when I don’t have class.”

Tommy let out a low whistle, his eyes widening. He looked impressed and you tried not to preen.

“So you one a’ those smart ones?”

You titled your head at him, pursing your lips playfully. “You one a’ those dumb ones?”

Tommy’s eyes lit up and you felt little butterflies in your belly. His eyes glittered in the afternoon sun, and you felt like everyone else milling about the Daisywood marketplace faded into the background, blurred and frayed around the edges. As if there was a glow on just the two of you, the warmth radiating into your pulse, down into your very bones.

“You’re trouble,” he told you, motioning with the bouquet in your direction. You felt like you’d just won something, but you weren’t sure what it was.

“It was nice to meet you, Tommy Miller,” you told him and he grinned again, one of those wide ones that crinkled the edges of his eyes.

“You too.”

* * *

Tommy had wanted to ask for your number, but he had enough sense in his head that he realized asking a woman for her number while buying flowers for another woman was not the right move. He was an idiot about most things, but he knew that much.

But damn, you’d been a fiery thing. And as he stood in the parking lot of the restaurant, his hands in his pockets, watching his date walk back to her car, he cursed himself. Because the girl he’d taken out tonight - she’d been sweet, but clearly the sparks had peaked under the dim light of a bar and the fuel of alcohol. When she said tonight had been fun but maybe that’s where it stopped - a friendly, platonic smile on her face - he couldn’t have agreed faster. He only realized as she walked away that she’d left her flowers in the restaurant.

He kicked a rock in the parking lot, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He lit one as he walked to his truck, the nicotine immediately calming him. He exhaled through his nose as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Tommy knew his history with women. He knew he’d never been the serious type, much more interested in hook-ups and and flirtations than actual relationships. But he’d be lying if he said that now - in the latter half of his thirties - the uncertainty felt a little tired. It’s not like he was ready to settle down, get married and pop out some kids - hell no. Sarah was enough for him and he loved being her uncle more than almost anything in the world.

Naw, he wasn’t trying to skip all the steps and get tied down right away. But…it would be kind of nice to come home to someone after a long day of working in the sun, blistered hands and aching bones. Would be nice to not have to try with anyone, to just have someone who knew him. Someone he could wrap up in his arms, that he could feel like himself with. Someone to bring over to Joel and Sarah’s for Sunday night dinner. ‘Cuz that drive home is starting to feel a little lonely. And so is my house.

He took another puff from his cigarette as he passed the local grocery store. He realized he was out of coffee and tomorrow was a big job with Joel - he knew he’d need the fuel in the morning. Pulling into the nearly-empty parking lot at this hour, Tommy flicked his cigarette out of the driver’s window as he pulled into an empty spot.

As he walked into the grocery store, he stuck his hands in his faded jean jacket and headed straight for the coffee aisle. He could feel the long day settle into his bones and he was looking forward to flopping face-first down into his bed the second he got home.

He found the dark roast he liked and snatched it from the shelf before he turned toward the end of the aisle, where he promptly found himself rooted to the spot.

Because there you were. Pretty little thing from the farm, your name floating into his brain as he looked at you for a moment as you held a basket in your arm, examining a bag of sugar. Your hair was pulled out of your face, different than how you’d worn it this afternoon, and you looked a little tired.

But still as cute as ever.

“Hey, Trouble.”

You looked up at his voice and it took a moment, but when you recognized him your face broke into the brightest smile he’d seen all day. It made his stomach swoop a little and he walked toward you, returning your grin.

“Tommy Miller.” You put the bag of sugar in your already-full basket, shifting your weight to accommodate the bulkiness. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He said your name then and you laughed. And then he stupidly asked, “What are you doin’ here?”

He felt himself flush as you got a teasing look in your eye, seemingly delighted that he would ask such an obvious question. Your eyes flicked down to your basket, then back up to his gaze.

“Why, believe it or not, I’m grocery shopping.”

He chuckled, a little embarrassed, the hand not holding his coffee coming up to rub at the back of his neck. You seemed to take pity on him because you looked up at him with a friendly wink, letting him know you were just messing with him.

Tommy nodded. “Ain’t that somethin’.”

Suddenly, your eyes went wide, as if you’d only just remembered something. “How’d your date go?!”

You seemed genuinely excited for him, like you really cared about his answer to the question.

“It was fine.” He watched as your eyebrows rose. You looked - well - if Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d say you looked a little relieved at his lackluster response but maybe that was just him being hopeful.

“Oh no.” You once again shifted the heavy basket and Tommy had an itch to reach out and take it for you. Would that be too forward? I don’t wanna come on too strong. “‘Fine’ is not how you want to describe a first date.” A pause, and then, “It was the daffodils, wasn’t it?”

Tommy barked out a laugh and you grinned playfully at him. “I think it was more to do with our personalities not bein’ compatible, but I will tell you - she left the daffodils in the restaurant.”

You clutched a dramatic hand to your heart, scrunching your eyes up in mock pain. “Noooooo!”

“It’s true. Right there on the table between our empty plates.”

You groaned, the sound turning into a laugh when your eyes landed back on his. “That’s so brutal, I’m sorry. For the record - those were really nice flowers! Her loss.”

Tommy stuck his free hand into his pocket to keep from just taking that damn heavy basket out of your arms. “They were nice flowers. As pretty and as nice as the gal who sold them to me.”

You squinted your eyes at him, pursing your lips - it looked like you were trying to hide a smile.

“You using a line on me after your failed date?” Damn, you liked calling him out, didn’t you?

“It ain’t a line!” He watched as you turned on your heel, scoffing. He thought for a moment he’d blown it, that you really did think he was a dog, but when you realized he wasn’t next to you, you looked over your shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You just gonna stand there or you gonna walk with me?”

She–oh…damn.

“Yes ma’am.” Tommy’s long legs got him to where you stood in just a few strides, and the two of you meandered down the aisle, toward the front of the store.

“I really am sorry your date didn’t go as well as you’d hoped.” He looked to his left, down at you. Your gaze was focused ahead of you, your arms gripping the basket.

Fuck it.

“Here, gimme that.” He motioned to your basket and you looked up at him, your face full of surprise.

“Oh, you don’t have to, Tommy–”

“I know that, but I want to.”

You hesitated for another moment before you let him take the basket out of your arms. He held it in his right hand, his left hand clutching his coffee. He glanced at your ingredients, noticed a few common threads. Made him think of the time he took Sarah to get things to surprise Joel on a Christmas morning a few years ago. They’d made cinnamon buns together, Sarah bossing him around while Joel slept in. That was a good day.

“You into baking?” You looked up at his question.

“It’s my best friend’s birthday next weekend. Gonna make her a cake. Icing and all.”

He let you walk in front of him as you both reached the checkout line and he resisted the urge to put his hand on your lower back. You turned to him and he held out your basket as you started to put your items onto the conveyor built.

He caught your eye as you set down a container of sprinkles. “Lucky best friend.”

The two of you didn’t talk much as you both checked out, but you did reward him with another bright smile as he effortlessly took hold of your bagged groceries, insisting he help carry them to your car.

You led him over to where you were parked and opened the passenger door for him to set your bag down. When you nudged the door closed with your hip, you turned to face him. He held his single bag of coffee in his hand, looking at you.

“Thanks for the totally unnecessary chivalry.” You played with the strap of your purse, one foot kicked behind you, resting on your car door. “I really do appreciate it, Tommy.”

“I was raised right.” Tommy didn’t want to stop talking to you, but it was getting late and he had to be up early - and he could see the tiredness in your shoulders, the way sleep was probably beckoning you too.

He rubbed the back of his neck again. If Joel had been there, he’d tease him for it, Tommy’s consistent tell that he was nervous. He’d done it since he was a little kid - before he was up to bat at a baseball game, before a doctor’s appointment, the day Joel told him he was going to be an uncle.

“It was real nice runnin’ into you, Trouble, and I’d very much like to do it again.” He heard your small intake of breath, the surprised little gasp as your eyes widened just a bit.

“You would?” There was no teasing in your question and Tommy was taken aback by the earnestness of it. Like you actually couldn’t believe he’d want to see you again, like you weren’t lovely and kind. He’d be an idiot to not at least try.

“Yes ma’am. You got a number you’d feel okay giving me?”

Your initial reaction was to smile, and he marveled at how it took up your whole face. Then a second later you sighed, biting your lip, your eyes flitting away from him and he started to feel a little nervous. Maybe he was being too forward. He’d only just met you this morning. You might have a boyfriend or a husband or a girlfriend for all he knew–

“I’ll be honest, Tommy.” You were back to playing with the strap of your purse, and Tommy clocked it as a nervous tick. “I’m not much in the habit of giving strangers - especially men - my number.”

He studied you for a moment, your hesitation. Did some idiot burn you before? Some creep abuse the privilege of having your number in his possession? He wanted to say he wouldn’t be like that, that he was different - but currently the odds were stacked against him. He’d just been at dinner with a different woman an hour ago. Maybe you thought he was a creep.

“How ‘bout this? I give you my number, so if you never wanna see me again, you don’t have to.” Your eyes lit up at his suggestion, your shoulders relaxing. “And I ain’t askin’ for anything. Just would like to talk to you some more.”

You studied him for a long beat, debating something in that pretty head of yours. “How about as friends? You’d..be okay with that?”

The Tommy Miller from a few years ago - hell, even last year - would’ve honestly deflated at that, said sure and then put you out of his mind, moving on to someone who’d likely sleep with him. He wasn’t always proud of his history with women, and while he never meant to mistreat anyone, he had certainly ghosted a girl or two. Or three or four.

But you’d been kind to him this morning and you were being kind to him now. He felt comfortable in your presence. And truthfully? He’d be lying if he said he had a lot of friends. Besides Joel and a few veteran buddies, he didn’t have time for a lot of friends. And if he was being brutally, terribly honest with himself?

Fuck, Tommy Miller was a little lonely.

Which is why he nodded, giving you a genuine grin. “Friends sounds pretty damn great to me.”

* * *

You waited two days to reach out to Tommy.

You had been a little surprised at your reaction to him asking for your number. You’d mooned over him that morning, your stomach had swooped when you’d ran into him again later that night at the grocery store, and yet when he actually asked for your number, you’d balked.

Because you’d seen it clearly then. A man as gorgeous as Tommy could not possibly be looking for something more than just physical. And certainly not with you. It just…it didn’t track, based on your history with men like him. And you didn’t think that way to talk down on yourself - in fact, you were very happy with yourself. You knew your worth, knew that you would be a good partner to whoever would want to give that a go with you.

But Tommy was absurdly handsome. Flirtatious. Easy to joke with and talk to and you saw, in that second when he’d asked for your number, exactly how this would all play out. He’d take you out, you’d get swept up in that smile, you’d find yourself in bed with him because duh, and then you’d never hear from him again.

It was a tale as old as time. It’d happened to you plenty.

And maybe that was a little unfair of you, judging him before really knowing him. Your therapist did say you had a habit of self-sabotage when it came to dating. But you couldn’t help it; you were not up to getting hurt at this point in your life. And you knew yourself: you knew if you slept with this man, you’d get attached. You just knew it, a few minutes into conversation with him.

So you’d been taken aback when he’d agreed to a friendship. You were sure he’d blow you off at your suggestion, or a least pretend to entertain it and then never hear from him again. And you certainly didn’t expect him to answer the text you sent him.

You sent a pretty standard message - telling him just who was texting him and asking how his day was going. Then you’d thrown your phone on the other end of your couch, snuggling under the throw blanket around your shoulders, trying to put Tommy out of your mind and calm your racing heart because it’s not like he was going to text back anyway.

Your phone started buzzing and you glanced over, mouth dropping open because Tommy was calling you. Your stomach immediately tied together in nerves and you leaned over, grabbing for your phone and just staring at his name as it continued to ring.

Fuck it.

“Hello?”

“Hi you.” His voice on the other end sounded deeper than in person and you snuggled further into your couch, trying not to physically squeal like you were fifteen-years-old, sneaking on the landline late at night to talk to the boy from school you had a crush on.

“Hope it’s alright m’calling you.” He sounded soft on the other end. “I’ll admit I’m not much of a texting guy.”

Your smile stretched ear-to-ear because that made perfect sense. He didn’t seem like a texting guy, and hearing his voice over the phone was better than reading a few sentences over a message.

“It’s very alright,” you replied. “I hope it’s alright I texted. I didn’t know if you were working or something–”

“Got home a little bit ago.” Talking with Tommy felt light. You immediately relaxed, imagining him on the other end, wherever he was in his home.

He cleared his throat, asked, “What you up to?” and you fell into an easy conversation. He told you about his day - he worked construction jobs with his older brother named Joel, his only sibling and the father of his niece. You could hear the affection in Tommy’s voice that the man had for his older brother, and it delighted you. He told you about a funny thing his niece - Sarah - had said that morning as Tommy had picked up his brother from his house, on the way to the job. You laughed until your cheeks hurt and realized Tommy had a gift for storytelling.

He asked you about your class that day and seemed genuinely interested in your thesis. He asked what your favorite books were, admitted he hadn’t read one in god knows how long, and asked about your family. You talked and talked and talked, and it wasn’t until you yawned that you glanced over at your end table, eyes widening when you realized it was after midnight.

You bid each other goodnight and he asked if he could call you tomorrow. You were grateful he couldn’t see your dorky, giant grin on your face when you replied yes.

That night you dreamt of black curls and freckles and a grin as warm as the Texas sun.

* * *

Within several weeks, Tommy Miller became your friend.

You talked to him on the phone whenever you could at night, when your work and research was completed or he wasn’t too passed-out exhausted from work. You even got to see his house - a modest, two-bedroom rancher, with typical Ikea furniture and Texas sports team paraphernalia. The natural light was lovely and his hardwood floors looked beautiful. When you commented on them, he had beamed - and told you that he and Joel had installed the floor themselves. You were sufficiently impressed.

It was lovely and painfully obvious a man lived there alone, especially when you realized the most expensive thing in the entire place was his grill on the back deck. You’d teased him, but the steak he’d made you on it was so good that it’d effectively shut you up.

And that was how you started to spend time with Tommy Miller. Movie nights at his house, phone calls in the evening, showing him your book collection and grabbing a late night burger after he got off a job. Vanessa even met him once, the man meeting you for a happy hour drink. She didn’t stop teasing you about him for a week after that, calling him your “non-boyfriend boyfriend” and telling you you were an idiot. You brushed her off, told her that right now, you were just friends and that was good enough.

“So let me give my coworker Jake your number,” she’d said, her eyes bright, teasing you. You’d pursed your lips, shrugging.

“Fine.” Your voice sounded unconvincing even to your own ears and Vanessa had scoffed at you. She’d shook her head, taking a sip of her wine.

“You’re unbelievable,” she’d said and you’d rolled your eyes at her.

Your newfound friendship with Tommy was nice. He was nice. You didn’t need to complicate it and get your hopes up, thinking that the man wanted more than he was giving. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d made a new friend - you’d been so settled into your life and your routine, you hadn’t had much of change in a little bit.

Tommy was something new. Something special and sweet and you didn’t really want to complicate it very much. He was probably dating anyway - it wasn’t like you knew every single thing the man did. He owed you nothing, so if he was going out with women on the days you didn’t see him, that was fine by you.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

And you were in complete and utter denial the more time you spent with him.

* * *

“What’s so funny?”

Tommy looked up from his phone to find Joel staring at him with narrowed eyes, his beer bottle paused before his lips. Sarah snorted as she took a bite of her burger, a knowing look in her eye.

Tommy set his phone down on Joel’s kitchen table, leaning back in his seat. “Huh?”

Joel took a swig of beer and looked at Tommy suspiciously. “You got the biggest dumbass grin on your face as you looked at your phone. What is it?”

Tommy tried to not give himself away and took a drink from his own beer. Because the truth was he’d been laughing at a meme you’d sent him, something stupid in response to a debate about the greatest action movie franchise. You were arguing that Aliens was better than Terminator 2, and Tommy had pointed out it was the same director, then you’d teased him for “mansplaining” and it’d gone back and forth until you’d sent some ridiculous reaction picture.

“Dad, he’s obviously texting a girl.”

Tommy flicked a homemade french fry at Sarah’s face and she batted it away, snickering.

“You mind your business,” he told his niece, trying to play it cool. But Joel - the son of a bitch - looked way too interested to let it slide.

“Who is it? Do I know her? You datin’ her or just textin’?” Joel’s rapid fire questions made Tommy roll his eyes at his big brother.

“She’s my friend, dipshit.”

Joel snorted and then it was Sarah’s turn to flick a fry, but this time she aimed it at her dad’s head. The fry hit him directly in the center of the forehead, and Tommy and Sarah burst into laughter.

“Hey!” Joel swiped his napkin over his forehead, glaring at Sarah playfully.

“Uncle Tommy can have friends that are girls.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Oh, can he now?” He leveled a look at his little brother. “You just friends with this girl?”

“Don’t be a dick.” Tommy shoved the last bit of his burger into his mouth. “And yeah, I am, and I really dig her, man. She’s cool. And smart. And funny.”

Joel grinned genuinely at his little brother and Tommy felt the tops of his ears get hot. He knew that look that Joel was giving him. He knew he sounded like a complete dork but he didn’t care. He was grateful for you. For your ridiculous memes and your conversations and for letting him into your life, even if it never got further than what it was.

Which he was absolutely fine with. Really.

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Bring her to my soccer game on Saturday! I wanna meet her!”

“Yeah, Tommy!” Joel’s such a little shit. “Bring her, we wanna meet her.”

Tommy shook his head, looking between his older brother and his niece. They looked at him with expectant expressions, and Tommy finally relented. He knew he wouldn’t win this argument and a part of him didn’t want to. The thought of you joining them for one of Sarah’s games - the thought of introducing you to his people - made his stomach swoop in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

Tommy’s phone buzzed and your name came up with a text that said, Anyway, hope you’re having a nice night. :)

He didn’t try to hide the smile that time.

“Yeah, maybe I will bring ‘er.”

* * *

The sun beat down on the back of your neck and you were grateful for your choice to wear your hair pulled up and out of your face. The Texas almost-summer-but-still-technically-spring weather was brutal, and it was hot on the soccer field today as you sat beside Tommy and his brother, watching tweens run around and play like their life depended on it.

When Tommy had invited you to his niece’s soccer game, you had been floored. You’d heard a lot about Joel and Sarah, and you didn’t admit it to him, but you’d been wanting to meet them for awhile. Once you immediately said absolutely to attending the game, your nerves set in. Would Joel grill you about your relationship to his brother? Would he question why you weren’t dating? Would you have to deflect questions in order to stay away from the true reason why you were afraid to admit to your feelings: you didn’t want to get hurt.

But the second Tommy picked you up in his truck with a big smile on his face, the second you both walked across the parking lot and to the field, the second you met Joel Miller and his sweet, bright-eyed daughter, all of those nerves and that fear melted away. You were shocked at how right it all felt. You wished Sarah good luck before she jogged onto the field, and the smile she gave you immediately made you feel welcome.

You scrunched your nose, too-big sunglasses sliding down your face. Tommy’d given you his to wear, noticing you squinting in the harsh sun. He looked over at you now, smirking.

“Don’t you dare make fun of me,” you said to him, pushing the sunglasses up your nose. He barked out a laugh and put his hands up in mock defense.

“I ain’t sayin’ a word.”

Joel - who was sitting on the other side of Tommy - held his water bottle up to his lips. “If my little brother makes fun of you, he’s walking home.”

“I drove her here!” Tommy’s indignant pout made him sound like he was twelve. Your smile was embarrassingly big.

“Doesn’t mean she can’t drive your truck without you in it.” Joel threw you a smirk, conspiratory in nature, like the both of you were in on a joke together. It made you feel included and you were grateful for it, lodging the feeling away beneath your ribcage.

“You know, that’s a good idea, Joel.” You turned to to angle your body toward Tommy, your hands resting on the arms of the fold-out chair he’d brought for you. You reached up, lowering the sunglasses and peered at him dramatically, over the lenses. “I always wanted a truck of my own. Yours will do nicely.”

Tommy’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze warmer than the sunshine.

“I wasn’t gonna make fun’a you.” He cleared his throat, his eyes traveling over your face. His voice was low, so only you could hear. “Was just gonna say you look good in my stuff.”

Your mouth dropped open and you found no words came to you. Tommy had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, before he stood up, declaring he needed another water bottle and sauntered away toward the snack bar, a hand in his jeans pocket. The very way he carried himself told you he knew exactly how hard you heart was beating.

You were flustered, but you managed to get it together when Joel said your name. Your attention flicked over to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet the girl that’s been the reason for my brother’s good mood for the last few months.”

Your face heated and you smiled. “I don’t know about all that. Tommy’s always in a good mood.”

Joel studied you for a moment, an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Yeah, but it’s been different. He likes you. A lot.”

Your fingers played with the hem of your sundress, falling to the middle of your thigh. “Well now you’re just getting my hopes up, Joel. He likes me as good as he likes any of his friends.”

Joel deadpanned a knowing look at you and then took a breath. His eyes traveled back to the field, watching as Sarah joined her team for a time-out huddle. When he spoke, his eyes remained on the field, but you felt like his entire attention was on you.

“My brother’s spent his entire life tryin’ to prove he’s good enough. Good enough for our parents, good enough for me, good enough for the fuckin’ United States army.” Joel took a breath, and you got the sense that what he was saying to you was really important. “I would put money on the fact that he sure as hell don’t feel good enough for you.”

You swallowed, your stomach full of butterflies. “I–I don’t–”

Finally, Joel looked at you, and his gaze was as warm as Tommy’s. You could see the similarity in their faces, their brown puppy-dog eyes and their uncanny ability to make you feel like you were the only person in the entire place.

“I’m tellin’ you this because I can see how y’all are around each other and I’ve spent - what - an hour around you two?” He shook his head. “And I would fuckin’ hate for you to walk away from this because my brother is too up his own damn ass to realize he does deserve the best. And I think I’m right in assuming he makes you happy.”

You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to. “He makes me so happy.”

Joel gave you a genuine smile. He nodded. “He’s the best man I know.”

Your heart beat a tender rhythm, the love radiating off of Joel. You were amazed by it, nearly consumed by it. These Miller brothers are good men. I know that. I can feel it.

Your conversation didn’t continue because Tommy was back, plopping down in his seat between you and Joel. He handed you a water.

“Figured you could use one too,” he told you. Over his shoulder, your saw Joel’s knowing look, his eyebrows raised, and you tried not to blush.

You took the water bottle from his hand, your smile stretching across your face. “Thanks, Tommy.” He grinned at you, his bronzed skin glistening in the sunshine, his freckles scattered across his nose like tiny constellations. I’m down bad for this man.

The rest of the game passed in a pleasant hour. You made easy conversation with Joel and Tommy, and when Sarah’s team brought home the victory, you were on your feet with the rest of the parents and families, cheering and yelling through cupped hands.

Joel explained it was tradition to get ice cream after the games - win or lose. Sarah - with her big, Miller eyes - told you matter-of-factly you simply had to join for this post-game tradition. You told her you’ve never turned down an opportunity for ice cream once in your life.

As you sat at an outdoor table at the ice-cream parlor, licking the strawberry cone Tommy insisted on buying for you, you realized you were happier than you ever remembered being. The sun was starting to settle low in the sky, and the soundtrack of Joel and Tommy’s laughter, of Sarah’s snarky comments - it all created a calmness in you.

I could get used to this. Tommy caught your eye, mid-conversation with Joel. He grinned at you without ever breaking conversation, a silent communication to you saying I’m glad you’re here.

You smiled down into your ice cream.

I’m glad I am too, Tommy. I’m right where I’m meant to be.

* * *

It happened on a random Tuesday in late May.

Tommy knew you’d been having a shitty day. You’d overslept for your meeting with your advisor, a citation source for your thesis hadn’t worked out, and you’d gotten a flat tire on your way home. When you had texted Tommy a picture of the flat with an angry face, he immediately asked if he needed to pick you up. You told him Triple A was on their way, then made a joke about how you’d run over the nail just a few minutes from his house. He said it was fate then, since he was planning on asking you to come over and have dinner with him.

You’d agreed to head to his house after Triple A replaced your wheel. After double checking that you were safe, off the road, and okay to wait for them, Tommy had started on dinner.

It was golden hour when you arrived to his house, bursting through his front door like a shot of espresso.

“Honey, I’m hooooooome!” You bellowed the cheesy line, throwing your bag on the couch. Tommy laughed and paused in his work - chopping a red bell pepper for the skewers he was going to toss on the grill. He looked over his shoulder at you, a giant smile on his face, and his heart thudded as it always did when you were around.

You just looked so perfect with your messy hair from a long day, your sparkling eyes, standing in his doorway, lighting up like a Texas firefly.

I want this. I want this with you. Forever.

You started to make your way into the kitchen, but your eyes flickered over to his dining table. He followed your eye-line and where it came to rest: on the vase of lavender in the center. Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the flowers. You got a soft look in your eye as you walked toward the table, and when you reached it, your fingers reached out to graze the petals.

“Lavendar?”

Tommy cleared his throat, turning around so he could lean against the counter. He took the dish towel from where it rested on his shoulder and wiped his hands. He felt nervous, suddenly. Like you’d opened up his heart, looked right in and saw it all.

“I hear they’re good for when you’re havin’ your mornin’ coffee. Brightens things up.”

You met his gaze, a smile taking over your face as you took him in. “When’d you get these?”

Tommy put the towel down on the counter, resting his hands behind him on either side, the cool surface grounding him.

“The other day.” Fuck it. “I saw them and I wanted them. They always remind me of you.”

He could hear the audible gasp you made, the sharp intake of breath. Your eyes were wet but you didn’t look sad - you looked amazed. Tommy felt himself teetering on the edge and he made a decision then. A decision that was months in the making, a decision that honestly had been in motion since the first time he’d laid eyes on you.

He pushed off the counter, standing to his full height. Because when a man bared his soul, he did it with dignity.

“I love you.” The words fell out of his mouth effortlessly, danced between the two of you. “I’m in love with you, and – and if all you want with me is friendship, I respect that but I just–I had to tell you, ‘cuz–”

“Tommy.”

“Cuz I can’t keep it in anymore–”

“Tommy.”

He stopped his rambling and he realized his chest was rising and falling faster than it was a minute ago. You were smiling at him, a tear traveling lazily down your cheek.

You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.

You took a breath, your hands skating down the front of your dress.

“I need you to come over here, put your hands on my hips, and kiss me.”

He felt a flame lick up his spine. Your stare was heavy, and the way you licked your lips made him want to groan.

And then when you suddenly got bashful, tacking on a, “If you want” — he broke.

His legs carried him over to you in a few strides. His left hand landed on your hip, his right hand went into your hair, and right before his lips met yours, he rasped, “I want.”

Tommy bent down as you lifted up and when your lips finally connected, he felt like it’d taken forever and no time at all to get here. His hand flexed against your hip and you made a little whimpering noise as you parted your lips. He didn’t waste any second - his tongue tracing your bottom lip before he licked into your mouth. Your hands made their way to his curls and you pulled, causing Tommy to moan deep in his throat.

You pulled away and he chased your lips and you were panting, gasping for air.

“I love you, Tommy Miller,” you breathed in the space between your mouths. “I love you so much.”

Tommy couldn’t stop himself from grinning - it spread wide across his face, his hand in your hair moving to cup your jaw. His thumb grazed against your cheek.

“That makes me a very lucky man,” he told you. You pressed yourself against him, your hands sliding down around his neck. You pulled him by his flannel, connecting your mouths again and if Tommy thought the first kiss with you was good, this was something else.

You kissed with your entire body. He could feel your curves against him, and his hand on your hip moved to your ass. He grabbed a handful and you moaned, spreading your pretty legs. You broke apart, both breathing hard, and Tommy looked down between you, his forehead resting against yours. He moved his knee in between your legs, pressing it against your core and you gasped.

“Oh,” you breathed, grinding against his denim-covered knee. The sounds you were making were enough to make him come, make him pant, make him beg. He’d allowed his mind to go here before, imagine what it’d be like to make you come apart with his fingers and his tongue, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to experience the real thing. It was worth the wait.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped as you leaned your head back, breath coming quickly from your mouth. His lips found the pulse point at your neck and your breathless yes, like that made him strain against his jeans.

I want you I want you I want you.

He moved his hands under your ass, lifting and placing you on the edge of the table. You wasted no time wrapping your legs around his hips, drawing him even closer. He leaned his right palm flat on the table behind you, crowding you, his left hand coming up cradle your jaw. You opened your eyes and the love and tenderness in them almost made him buckle.

“I’m so glad you came in to get flowers that day,” you told him, your eyes wet again. Tommy lost his breath for a moment and then leaned down, pressing his lips against yours before pulling back.

“Does that mean you’ll be my girl?”

Your legs squeezed around him and Tommy grunted, his hands landing on your thighs, pushing your dress up around your waist.

You’re everything. How’d I fuckin’ get so lucky?

You looked up at him through your lashes, your hands coming up to hold his face in your hands.

“I already am.”

* * *

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