#anyways back to freelatta

[chasing-it-down]

I DONT CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS. FREELATTA WILL ALWAYS BE AT THE TOP OF MY FAV SHIPS OF ALL TIME !!!!!!

[jewishtommycoolatta]

7. Kidnapped & “Stop hogging the blankets!”

Word Count: 291

Ship: Freelatta (Tommy x Gordon) (but only slightly)

TW for kidnapping (only slightly, it’s not serious at all)

It was 3 a.m.

Which, in Gordon’s opinion, was the perfect time for sleeping in his nice comfy bed, with his lovely boyfriend, and not doing anything else.

GMan unfortunately begged to differ.

“Can I please just go to fucking sleep, you weird old man?!” Gordon snapped.

The weird old man in question aggressively shushed him, pointing to a sleeping Tommy, as if his strange warping of the world and glowing eyes weren’t infinitely more likely to wake him up.

“I understand that this... time of night is not, as convenient for you, but it is the only time that I can, ah, take you aside without... suspicion.” GMan gestured to Tommy once again.

“You can’t plan a surprise party at literally any other time?”

More annoying shushing.

“No.”

And now there was a giant portal, which was certainly louder than Gordon had been, and GMan was dragging him out from under the covers to go into his weird G-Void to plan Tommy’s 38th birthday party even though they could just go to dinner like REGULAR adults. But GMan was some strange space eldritch, the furthest thing from regular, so Gordon was going to help him plan a party at 3 in the fucking morning because he had literally no other choice.

The blankets fell off the bed as Gordon got dragged into the void.

Tommy could sleep through yelling and bickering and teleporting and void kidnapping just fine, but the cold bothered him enough to stir him just slightly awake.

“Stop… stop hogging the blankets,” he mumbled, fumbling his arms out to take the duvet back from Gordon.

And Gordon was-- Gordon wasn’t there?

Tommy’s eyes cracked open, and then snapped wide open, and Gordon wasn’t there.

Oh no.

[goatbi]

13 and/or 17 freelatta? Get some good confess in case they don't make it but they do hurt comfort please thank you? Or 24 if you just wanna do fluff I just love reading any freelatta stuff you do

It happens when Gordon collapses for the third time, blood dripping from his arm horrifically, and Tommy can’t stop it, he can’t and he doesn’t know why he can’t, he should be able to do this.

“No, no, come on.” He tries to pull Gordon back up, to keep going, but Gordon’s near dead weight at this point, and Tommy hates that phrase right now, hates it so so much. “Please, you can’t die.” He whispers, and Gordon’s head shifts towards him, eyes hazy from blood loss, and his hand comes up, patting clumsily at Tommy’s face. Tommy grabs a hold of it. “Please....” he mumbles again, pressing their foreheads together. “Don’t die, okay, you can’t...” 

Gordon mumbles something to him, but his lips barely move, he barely breathes out the words, and Tommy shakes, terrified for him, forcing himself to drag Gordon up to sitting, shaking hands holding him up even as Gordon’s head lolls dangerously to the side, unable to hold it’s own weight, and Tommy’s still shaking so badly. 

“Please.” Tommy whispers again, propping him up against the wall, cupping his face and holding it up. Gordon’s eyes land on him, blinking slowly, and Tommy, in near desperation, drags him just a bit closer and kisses him soundly. 

It’s not good, and it’s messy, but Tommy doesn’t care, leaning him back against the wall before pulling away. “Don’t you die on, Gordon Freeman, you are not allowed.” He mutters, almost angry at the world, and Gordon hums, smiling up at him, and Tommy stands, slides into the next room to go looking for a med kit. 

Unseen by him, G-Man leans into the plan of existence, reverses time just a bit, just enough to keep Gordon going for a little while longer, slows his blood flow a little bit more. Hopefully Tommy wouldn’t notice. G-Man could do nothing more, however, disappearing again as Tommy slid back into the hallway, bumping into the wall, a dirty med kit clutched desperately in his hands. 

-------------------------------------

The party is great. Tommy’s having fun, mostly because everyone’s alive-well, except Benrey, but Benrey’s hanging out as a skeleton outside, and Tommy still hasn’t fully forgiven him for the whole ‘getting Gordon’s arm cut off’ thing-and they’re all out of Black Mesa and safe. 

Gordon, of course, is busy marveling as his new prosthetic, courtesy of Tommy’s father, getting used to working with it on, handling things carefully and over gently to avoid crushing them like Dr. Coomer might have. He seems to be doing okay, but Tommy is terrified for him, to be completely honest. He was terrified for all of them, but Gordon? Gordon would have died. 

Tommy wasn’t blind to his father’s meddling, and he’s just happy that G-Man kept the promise that Tommy had made on one of the nights, having snuck away from the group to talk to his father, and made G-Man promise that Gordon was going to make it out. Tommy hadn’t told G-Man why, exactly, he wanted his father to promise to that, but G-Man seemed to know anyways. 

It wasn’t like G-Man could not have seen Tommy kiss Gordon. 

Speaking of Gordon. 

He set the cup down next to Tommy, filled nearly to the brim with bubbly orange, and Tommy grins. Despite the fact that he named his dog after it, he really doesn’t like Sunkist all that much, but that doesn’t stop him from appreciating the gesture, as Gordon plopped into the seat next to him with his own cup of what Tommy assumes is either Dr. Pepper or Root Beer. He wouldn’t know without a taste, but he has his Sunkist. And he has his dog at his feet. Which is nice. 

Gordon doesn’t say anything at first, holding his soda cup gingerly in his hands, and Tommy lets the silence sit for the time being. There’s no harm in it, after all, and it’s not really silent, with the games pinging in the background, and Bubby and Coomer’s air hockey battle, which seems to be very intense, and Tommy would be worried if not for the fact that G-Man is standing watch over them. 

“Hey Tommy?” Tommy draws his attention away from the air hockey battle, to look towards Gordon again, head tilted a bit as he did. He made a soft noise, but didn’t quite feel the need to speak yet. Gordon didn’t seem to have finished his thought, after all, what with him staring down into his cup nervously, holding it oh so carefully in his metal hand, swirling the contents slowly. 

Gordon stayed silent for a moment more, and Tommy took another drink from his soda cup, eyes darting back to the air hockey match as Gordon sorted out his thoughts. 

“I remember kissing you.” Tommy froze. “Why do I remember kissing you?” Gordon looked up at him, and Tommy chewed nervously on his nip, staring down into the orange soda for a moment. 

“I... I got scared, I think.” Tommy said softly. “Thought it was gonna be my last chance... But.” Tommy laughed softly. “I did make dad promise me you wouldn’t die.” 

Gordon blinked at him, before laughing softly, setting his cup down onto the table. Tommy raised an eyebrow, as Gordon stood, moving around the table. 

“I just wanted to be sure it wasn’t a... I dunno, delirious hallucination.” Gordon said softly, before grabbing Tommy’s tie and dragging him up a bit to kiss him. 

Objectively? Much better than the first. 

[bandtrees]

rules: tag 9 people who you want to know better/catch up with and then answer these questions!

tagged by: @garak I LOVE U JUDAS!!! i blow u kisses from afar ur such a cool dude

3 ships: off the top of my hEAD iv been thinkin about most lately... freelatta (gordon/tommy - hlvrai) bandtrees (zoe/evan - deh) and stagedorks (jeremy/christine - bmc) ... i live in 2017 and deh and bmc are GOOD OKAY-

last songs: jesus christ - brand new, twisted teeth - 35mm: a musical exhibition

last movie: knives out! watched it with flux n sammi n celeste n jeremie in a fun movie night a while back :] i liked it a lot

currently reading: iii do not read in general but the last book i finished was frankenstein for my english class! twas fun

currently watching: not CURRENTLY bc we’ve been waiting for the next season but me n my mom have been watching the netflix show gentefied

currently craving: i have been craving biscuits all day and ik there are some in the kitchen i should go do that

tagging: @queerjaredkleinman @nobodynose27 @jkleinmansaysacab @braintapes @jackfrostdoll @hypnofruit-reblogs @rozugold @unoriginalurl77 @dukemon ! :D if yall wanna anyway ^^

[jewishtommycoolatta]

a proposal

Word Count: 1270

Ship: Freelatta (Tommy x Gordon)

No major TWs.

—–

Tommy wants to propose. It goes as well as you'd expect.

—–

Maybe the dog park wasn’t the best place to do this.

No, now wasn’t the time for doubt. Tommy had been planning this for weeks, he couldn’t just back out now.

He’d basically bled the local library dry of every book about marriage and marriage proposals that he could find. Unfortunately none were really like a full-fledged manual on how to do it, but hours of scouring the internet for proposal how-tos left him with what he hoped was enough to cover most of his bases. (He had also approached Dr. Coomer for help, but. Well. Stealing a motorcycle on the way out of the courthouse after finalizing your divorce with your ex-wife didn’t really seem like it would woo Gordon.)

Step one: buy a ring. Obviously the most important part.

Gordon didn’t like to wear his prosthetic hand too much, so it was easy for Tommy to sneak a finger measurement from it while he wasn’t looking. His father gave him helpful advice on ring sizing and color matching, a strange amusement etched into his face as Tommy rambled about all the research he’d been doing into this.

His father gently pointed out that maybe he was being a little bit overly-anxious about this as Tommy stared daggers into the ring case at the store. Of course he was wrong, he was just trying his best to pick the absolute perfect one.

It had to be perfect. It was for Gordon.

Eventually he settled on a small silver ring, dotted with white diamonds around the band and a triangular yellow diamond as the centerpiece. Yellow was a happy color, psychologically. Gordon said it made him happy.

No particular reason why. Just psychology.

Step two: plan the event.

That's how he ended up at the dog park-- it was the best place he could come up with. Sure there were lots of other, more stereotypically acceptable places he could have chosen, like a candlelit dinner at a fancy restaurant, or the beach, or on a nice vacation, but…

Gordon and Tommy both hated fancy food, and Gordon was terrified of the water now, and Tommy was not particularly a fan of travel or airplanes.

He didn’t think Gordon would like a proposal at Chuck E Cheese’s, so…. dog park it was.

The dog park was nice. Open and bright, with visible exits and. Well. Lots of cute dogs.

A lot of comfort. A place they knew.

Gordon would like it, right?

At the very least he had the rest of the science team (plus his father and Darnold) here. It was a last minute decision, really, but the proposal lined up with their weekly planned meet-ups.

“We’ll be there to support you!” Dr. Coomer had said with a wink.

“I wanna see it go wrong,” Bubby had said.

Dr. Coomer and Bubby then fought violently. It was a typical day.

Anyways, here they all were, surrounding a picnic bench. Tommy and Gordon were sitting with their backs to the table, watching Joshua run around with Sunkist, while everyone else (except Benrey, who had laid on his stomach in the grass to watch an anthill) was crammed onto the other bench, watching the two lovebirds expectantly.

Step three: actually do it.

That was the hard part.

He glanced back at everyone else. They all had bright smiles on their faces. Bubby was-- uh, snickering. Disheartening. Darnold waved his hands at him. Go on!

Ok. Ok! He could do this. He had read all the books and bought the perfect ring and had the support of his friends and father.

“Um… G- uh, Gordon?” He grasped the other man’s hand.

“Yeah?” He turned his head halfway towards Tommy, still keeping a close eye on Josh.

Sparing one last nervous glance at the others at the table, he slid off the bench and onto one knee in front of the other man, pulling that special black suede box out of his pocket.

One hand grasping Gordon's and the other presenting that delicate yellow ring he had spent so long deciding on, he asked Gordon to marry him.

The man gawked at Tommy, full attention now on him and that little, yet so important ring.

His shoulders shook a little, his face contorting in a strange way-- and Tommy thought maybe he was so overcome he would cry, but he bent his head and weird cackle came out--

And he was laughing.

He was howling, actually, head suddenly thrown back and his body shaking with so much force it felt like it was rattling Tommy’s arm out of his own shoulder socket.

Behind him, the science team shared their own reactions to this, with Dr. Coomer letting out a loud “Oh my!” and Bubby laughing on his own. Darnold was shaking his own head with a soft giggle. Even his own father was battling an amused smile. Benrey was still face-first in the dirt.

What was this? Some kind of cruel joke?

Tommy looked quickly between Gordon, still laughing, and the rest of the science team, his eyes growing in a new fear that he’d somehow been made into a joke he didn’t get.

“Why are-- why are you laughing?”

“I’m not-- I’m not laughing at you, I promise, I--” Gordon wheezed out, trying to control himself. He dropped Tommy’s hand and reached into his own pocket, pulling out…

A little black suede box. An ornate silver band, studded with small white diamonds, with a sparkling triangular green emerald in the center.

His own engagement ring.

“You-- you were--?!”

“I was-- I was! I was gonna--”

Neither of them could finish their sentences, the ridiculousness and utter excitement of the situation overwhelming them. The others were all laughing now too, obviously having known about both planned proposals and setting up this event.

How funny, he had been so, so worried about this-- but Gordon must have worried just as much.

Tommy started laughing too.

He laughed, and laughed, and burst into tears.

“What-- hey! Tommy, Tommy, hey--” Both rings had been dropped and forgotten on the ground now, Gordon reaching to caress his new fiance’s face.

“whuh the hell. why’d you make tommy cry. mean,” Benrey said, voice muffled from speaking into the dirt.

“Gordon, you’re a monster!” Dr. Coomer added, cheerily as ever.

“Can you guys shut up?!” Gordon yelled behind him.

“I’m sorry m-- I’m-- I’m just really ha--happy,” Tommy sobbed out. And it was true; his eyes glowed so bright Gordon thought he might be blinded, just like that first time.

Despite his tears, Tommy pulled Gordon’s hand to his lips and gently kissed his knuckles, picking his chosen ring up from the grass and sliding it onto the other man’s finger.

His sobs subsided into sniffles by the time Gordon had reached down to take that stunning emerald ring, sparkling so beautifully in the midday sun, and slip it on Tommy’s own hand.

It fit perfectly, just like Gordon's hand in his.

"yooo what did i miss" Benrey said, having apparently finally stood up from the dirt during the commotion. His face was covered in ants.

"You are fucking COVERED in ants dude!" Gordon yelled.

"what? no i'm not"

"It's not polite to lie to a friend, Gordon!" Dr. Coomer said.

"YES YOU-- HE IS! LOOK AT HIS FACE! TOM-- TOMMY! LOOK AT HIM!" Gordon screamed, gesticulating wildly at Benrey who was very much, in fact, covered in ants.

Tommy tapped Gordon's hand he was holding and gave him a serious look. "Lying w-- Lying is a sin, Gordon."

Gordon screamed.

Yeah. This was the best place to do this.

[jewishtommycoolatta]

entertainment of an angel

Word Count: 1030

Ship: Freelatta (Tommy x Gordon)

TW for unreality and religious themes.

-----

It’s said that some have entertained angels without knowing it.

Tommy knows.

-----

He was just… different, you know?

Different in that way he couldn’t explain.

Maybe it was his eyes, seeing things Tommy couldn’t. His hands reaching up for something not quite there, not quite seen-- and for almost a second he could swear he could, could swear he saw that ring around his head, gently glowing…

Gordon seemed to have been working at Black Mesa for a while-- had to, to be in his position, working in such an important test-- but Tommy had never seen him before. He should have seen him before.

He was quite a sight.

Gordon knew… too much about things he shouldn’t, and not enough about things he should. He knew his coworkers-- and knew how to step over their bodies. He knew how to get through the twisted facility, dark and dilapidated as it was, yet he-- he forgot the name of the event. The Resonance Cascade. He knew how to wield a weapon. He forgot people’s names so easily.

And-- he was so kind. He wanted to help everyone. He was devastated, so devastated, at every death-- senseless, senseless senseless death, and him so mad that he couldn’t control it when he thought that he should?--

The world seemed to disappear when he went just too far out of sight. The lights always seemed to glow just for him, almost like it was coming from him-- and if Tommy strayed too far, he’d be left in the dark. 

He didn’t want to be left in the dark.

And Gordon wouldn’t let that happen. He led him by the hand, healing his blind eyes-- a miracle, really, textbook, even-- leading him. Leading them all, really, but leading him.

Maybe he should have stayed the leader. Maybe then that wouldn’t have happened.

If an angel can be wrestled, then an angel can be cut. An angel can be severed, screaming, bloodied and dragged, consciousness fading out a scream like a prayer.

And-- well, at least it proved something.

He was a higher being.

Tommy felt like nothing. He felt nothing. Swarming all around him. In his head. Whirring in his ears.

Nothing numbers making up his soul, his fake heart beating on script.

Gordon was the only real thing in this fake world.

That was one kind of way to be holy.

When he came back, Tommy almost couldn’t look at him. Averting his gaze like it might kill him to look in his face, halo eyes, where he knew he saw things he didn’t, where he saw him the way he couldn’t see himself.

In a three-dimensional world, our shadows are two-dimensional, and a cross-section of an object is also two-dimensional. In theory, a world with four dimensions would have objects that cast shadows and have cross-sections that are three-dimensional.

Gordon breathed like Tommy didn’t, and Tommy wondered what he looked like out there, extra-dimensional. Where he really was.

Fathomable only by guessing. 

He wondered if he could really feel this pain (just in case, he was extra careful with the isopropyl alcohol, his fingers ghosting over that little bit of skin exposed just before that blasphemous cut, afraid he was going to break him even though he knew someone so much more than him could never be really hurt by him, and that really didn’t need to be disinfected anyways, form not bound by digital pain like Tommy was.  He held him carefully anyways.)

Maybe it was almost a reward-- a boost to his ego. The privilege of protecting a protector. Dragging his heavy avatar through the water, delirious man spouting whatever his nonsense was, shooting clones and navigating through a maze of lab he’d never seen before (and as far as his fake memories went, never really existed until now), fighting his way through with a being pretending to be too weak to defend himself.

His father-- his father didn’t seem to understand. Maybe he understood, yes, that they weren’t really there the way he was, but didn’t seem to grasp that-- that--

When Gordon went to ‘sleep’, Tommy watched. That glow around him faded, and then everything faded, including Tommy, and nothing swarmed in his ears again. And Tommy hated swimming in it, somewhere without purpose, and if all he needed to be was close to a man he already wanted to hold like the way the shore cradles the tide, rocking it in its arms, then he was blessed. If all he needed to live was what he wanted to live for anyways, then he was blessed.

Gordon beat the video game. There was never any doubt that he would. It was made to be. Some silly little world, just for him to prance about in, no need to care as much as he did, though he did, though he did--

He went to his birthday party.

His fake birthday party.

His birthday party that he knew was fake. Celebrating a fake man, so utterly beneath him that he could close his eyes and he would literally disappear. Gordon seemed to hate it, even, but still stayed, ring glowing, seeing things he couldn’t see, ignoring things he couldn’t see. Choosing to see him instead. Choosing to see him instead.

According to the original descriptions of angels, they seem to have lots of eyes, circling around and around, all the better to all-see with. Lots of things to choose to look at. 

Hunkered in a corner, chowing down on shitty cardboard pizza, extra-fake in the third dimension, Tommy rambled on about books and manuals he read sometime before he existed. 

Gordon, in all his cross-section, his fleeting glimpse at the incomprehensible, his infinite status and beating heart, his halo all-seeing eyes, he watched. And he listened.

According to the Talmud, every blade of grass has an angel that bends over it and whispers for it to grow. It takes a special, holy kind of love to care for something that insignificant.

Insignificant Tommy, polygons on a screen, dead as soon as he decided he was done with him. And he was whispering to him, that holy love, that eternal attention.

And with all his undeserving heart, caressed by the tide, he listened.

[jewishtommycoolatta]

Green Eyes

Word Count: 3119

Ship: Freelatta (Tommy x Gordon)

No major warnings. Please see original tags for a full list of trigger warnings.

(Another POV of Yellow Eyes)

-

He really wanted to move closer. But he just stared at Gordon. He had pretty eyes. The green reflected the glow from his own eyes. He liked it.

Tommy likes Gordon. Tommy wishes Gordon liked him back.

-

Whenever things went wrong and Tommy began to freak out, he found that the one thing that calmed him the most was reciting what he knew. So he began to recite.

Himself: Tommy Coolatta, 36, no official degree but lots of knowledge. Nepotic intern. Son of a powerful eldritch space being. Eldritch space being. Surprisingly competent. Somehow avoiding a meltdown.

In front of him: Gordon Freeman, 27, MIT graduate and theoretical physicist. Doctor. Father. Currently slumped against the wall, barely alive and barely conscious. Missing an arm. Looking rather dead. Mumbling vacantly.

Around him: Metal and glass and the smell of death. Green light from vats of toxic sludge. This was very against regulation (not that he would tell any of his friends that. He didn’t need them worrying. Lying was not against regulations, after all).

Focus, Tommy. Dying friend in front of you. Dying because you couldn’t get up and help him. Each employee on a walking/working surface (horizontal and vertical surface) with an unprotected side or edge which is 6 feet (1.8 m) or more above a lower level shall be protected from falling by the use of guardrail systems, safety net systems, or personal fall arrest systems.

Right.

Arm.

Gordon’s right arm.

Very dirty. Very bloody. Very missing.

Tommy dug into the large pockets on the inside of his lab coat and found a first aid kit, which of course he kept on him, because despite knowing the facility’s codes on employee medical treatment and its availability inside and out he did not trust for one second that those government bastards really cared. Also it was good for emergencies. Like this one.

He opened the kit. A small bottle of rubbing alcohol. A bottle, not wipes, because the wipes didn’t give you as much control over the amount of alcohol, though in this case it probably didn’t matter, because he was going to use it all anyways.

Big wound.

Focus, Tommy. A surface 6 or more feet above its lower level must have fall arrest systems such as guard rails or safety nets.

“This might sting a bit, Mr. Freeman.”

He poured the liquid onto his wound, trying to be as gentle as possible, because Gordon was injured and it was partially his fault and. Fucking focus. Focus. Tommy. You can be upset later. Eye and face PPE shall be distinctly marked to facilitate identification of the manufacturer.

Gordon didn’t even react to the alcohol. Tommy wondered if he could really feel much of anything. He didn’t even know how he managed to get here, from wherever the soldiers took him and through the vents to this dingy hellhole. Gordon was very strong. Gordon was saying something. Focus! When the periphery of the blades of a fan is less than seven feet above the floor or working level, the blades shall be guarded.

“Tommy, I--- Gordon-- Gordon need blood,” he gurgled, clearly woozy. He was waving his other arm around, grasping for something that probably neither of them knew what. Tommy couldn’t stand to see him like this. But he had to. Stay calm. Focus. When a platform is-- shit, when a platform--

“I know, Mr. Freeman. Um, the med--the medkits here are already empty. But I’m sure we-we can find some others along the way!” He tried giving him a smile. If Gordon knew the truth about him, he would have instantly known it was fake-- his eyes were dark and dull. Gordon’s eyes were glazed over. Tommy didn’t think he saw or heard him at all. Focus. Gauze. Hold him gently. Focus. It was already staining a horrible red. Focus--

He couldn’t keep focus in his head. He started talking out loud.

“Um, you know, a-according to OSHA regulations the Black Mesa Research Facility is required to keep a medical station within every-- every 200 feet?” Tommy was grateful for the medical books he had read, and wrapped the bandages with a surgical precision. He spouted out whatever OSHA guidelines came to mind first. Medical treatment, handling of radioactive materials, emergency evacuation procedures. Gordon’s eyes started to close. Tommy would have thought he was dying in that moment if not for the content sigh he gave.

Ever so gently, like he was handling a Fabergé egg, or poking a bear, he tapped Gordon’s cheek.

“Hey, you can’t sleep yet,” he whispered. Gordon stared at him groggily, eyes still hazy and mind obviously not very there, but he was looking at him. With a little recognition. So that meant something.

Tommy gave a small smile, for real this time, and Gordon, in all his dizziness gave a vacant one back, somehow full of all the love in the world, and Tommy saw bright yellow reflect off the metal of his HEV suit.

---

Tommy was 37 now. Finally. He didn’t know if he would even get to this day during the entirety of their... romp through Black Mesa, but he was here, in his favorite entertainment center, and it was more fun than he could have ever hoped.

Everyone else seemed to be having as much fun as intended-- except Benrey, who had been banned from the party by Tommy’s dad and was staring through the window in his skeleton form, but he did try to murder them all so he would have to deal with it-- but Gordon was off in the corner.

Tommy, through his heightened senses, could very clearly hear him screaming. It wasn’t horrific and painful, but it was screaming. Tommy didn’t think he was having fun. Tommy was having fun! He wanted Gordon to have fun, too.

Why did he want him to have fun so bad? Because he deserved it after going through all that shit? Yes. Okay. That’s the answer he’d go with.

He came over and sat next to Gordon. He didn’t seem to notice, too busy screaming into his hands. Hands. Plural. Thanks, Dad.

“Mr.-- Mr. Freeman! Are you enjoying the party?” He was giving him a 500 megawatt smile, and it was all real (he could see the light of his own eyes on the others suit again) and when the other man perked his head up at the sound of the voice, Tommy could admit he smiled just a bit wider.

Tommy had great senses, and despite being autistic and never really doing too well with body language, Gordon could be read like a book. Tommy could just see his green eyes, peering out of hands and through his glasses and raking over his face. Transfixed on his mouth. Staring in-between his glowing eyes. He raised his head more, and Tommy would swear he was blushing. Interesting.

“Yeah, uh, I’m having fun. Just kinda partied out right now,” he said, tilting his mouth into a feeble smile. Tommy knew he was lying, Gordon obviously hated being here, but the man hadn’t even tried to leave yet so that had to mean something. Something good. His happiness spread to his hands, and he fluttered them in front of his body.

“Oh, that's p- that’s p-p-- that’s good!” He could feel his own eyes glowing brighter, and his hands just started going faster, because Gordon looked a lot happier, too, and he was staring at him with a gleam in his eye that he obviously thought he was concealing, but he definitely wasn’t, and he really needed to get his energy out because the party and this man and his loving look were going to drive him nuts.

Gordon had an abandoned cup of grape soda in front of him, so he started talking about a manual he had recently read on the proper maintenance of soft drink machines, and Gordon listened. Tommy was floating on this high, rocking in his chair.

He really liked Gordon. Maybe Gordon liked him back?

---

Actually, Gordon hates him. Gordon fucking hates him.

It had been two months since his birthday party. They had robbed a bank together, and that was it. Gordon refused to interact with him.

Technically, Gordon refused to interact with any of them.

They had organized a weekly meetup. The first time, Gordon was radio silent, but eventually texted that he somehow hadn’t received word of the meetup. They had arranged it over email, so it was a viable reason, and so they switched over to a text group and voice chat. That way he could come to the next meeting.

The second time, Gordon said he needed to take Joshua to ‘a thing after school’. Bubby asked why he couldn’t just drop him off and come hang out, but apparently he needed to be there (some kind of parent-teacher conference, or something) and didn’t seem to want to talk about it so they didn’t press further. The man deserved some time with his kid, anyways. He would come to the next meeting.

The third time, Gordon said his car broke down. Tommy offered to give him a ride, invoking his record as the safest driver of the group (and also technically the only one with a license), but Gordon refused, way too quickly, and also hung up on the entire call. That hurt his feelings a bit, and he was starting to miss the man, but he didn’t want to be too intrusive and ask if anything was wrong. He would come to the next meeting.

The fourth time, Gordon said he was sick. Also the fifth, sixth, seventh, and now eighth time. He had a headache, or a cough, or chills, or stomach pains, or all and anything in-between. Tommy was starting to suspect that he was just avoiding them all. Actually, it might just be Tommy he was avoiding.

Saying Gordon didn’t interact with them at all was maybe a bit harsh. Gordon still spoke to them all sometimes. He occasionally went through the drive-through at the McDonald’s Benrey worked at, or stopped for a chat with Bubby when he saw him in the grocery store, or gave a quiet hello to Dr. Coomer at his new library job. But Tommy never got the chance. Gordon was pointedly ignoring him.

Of course he saw him out and about, they lived in the same town, it was bound to happen. Tommy watched Gordon notice him, and every time, immediately turn around and walk away. Because he was fucking avoiding him. Because he hated him. Probably.

He never said that he hated him, and the rest of his friends repeatedly assured him that Gordon didn’t hate him, but then why would he absolutely refuse to even go near Tommy?

So the eighth time Gordon said he was sick, Tommy offered to come over with medicine. And he called him Gordon, because he was being serious now, and Mr. Freeman didn’t have that bite to it. For the first time Tommy actually thought Gordon might really be sick, because the yes he gave back was quiet and raspy.

So Tommy was here, on the other man’s couch, hand pressed onto his forehead in a way that was maybe too familiar for his liking, and he felt totally fine. Of course. Because he wasn’t sick, and Gordon knew that and Tommy knew that but Tommy didn’t know if Gordon knew that Tommy knew that. But Gordon seemed to like the blanket Tommy had made for him, so that was at the very least something.

Tommy’s free hand was running over the quilt, feeling the texture, soothing him and distracting him from the fact that Gordon was openly gawking at his face. Sure, he was a bit close (his body felt like it was moving in on its own), but there were still other things to look at. And Gordon was staring down at his mouth and up at his eyes again, and he had that look again, that Tommy thought was loving but maybe he was just confused. Because a man who loved him would not have avoided him for two months, surely.

“You feel fine,” Tommy finally said, pulling his hand away, also tracing it along the quilt.  “Are you sure-- are you sure you’re sick?”

Tommy knew the answer, but he wanted to see if Gordon would tell the truth. He didn’t want to beat around this bush any longer.

Gordon let out a nervous laugh, and lied through his teeth. “Um, you know, I think it was more my stomach--”

“Gordon.”

Tommy was tired of this. Gordon looked uncomfortable, shivering despite the blanket, but Tommy pressed further.

“Why do you keep avoiding everyone?”

Gordon flipped from staring at Tommy to very obviously avoiding looking at him. The portraits on the walls and the off TV were definitely not so interesting that he had to intensely stare at them. Tommy felt him pull the quilt into his fists, and Tommy mildly worried that he might be a little angry.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice wasn’t angry, though. It was nervous. Avoiding.

Tommy put his hand on Gordon’s shoulder and leaned in close, and maybe he would have thought about he was way too close to him but he was too close to the truth.

“I’m not… I’m not avoiding everyone .” He said. Despite being closer now he suddenly found an excuse to once again look everywhere but at Tommy.

“Just me?”

“Yeah.”

Oh.

That hurt.

Gordon’s prosthetic hand flew over his mouth, and he looked over at Tommy with some kind of shock, as if he never thought he’d admit it. But he did. And Tommy didn’t understand what he did to deserve this.

“Did I– Did I do something wrong?” Tommy asked. He pulled away from Gordon; he didn’t need to make him more hateful by taking up his personal space. There was no intimacy for him here.

But then Gordon yelled “No-- wait!” and grabbed his shoulders and pulled him real close, and Tommy’s head spun a little because this was much much much closer than he’d ever dare get.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Tommy, I promise. I’m just dealing with all these fucking feelings right now.”

Oh. Oh.

Gordon was looking him right in his eyes now, green meeting yellow, and he had that clear look that said I love you and I don’t know how to tell you and begged him to close the small gap between them. He was getting overzealous, surely.

“…what kind of… f-feelings?” He asked. He didn’t dare speak too loud, almost as if he would scare Gordon away. And he was so close. If he moved his mouth too much it might touch Gordon’s accidentally, and Tommy didn't know what he would do if that happened.

Gordon held his shoulders tighter, and Tommy liked the pressure. He wished he would touch him more. He really wanted to move closer. But he just stared at Gordon. He had pretty eyes. The green reflected the glow from his own eyes. He liked it.

“Can I kiss you?” Gordon finally asked. He was so quiet, like he was afraid Tommy might say no, as if Tommy would ever say no to that. Tommy couldn’t even make his brain form a yes, so he just relented to what his whole body was screaming at him to do and closed the space between them.

Gordon’s lips were chapped and his goatee tickled Tommy’s face and Tommy fucking loved it all. He had to do something with his hands before he started flapping and accidentally hit Gordon, so he took to covering Gordon’s hands on his shoulders, interlocking their fingers.

Gordon closed his eyes, moving his lips against Tommy’s, and Tommy couldn’t keep his hands still, so he moved, tracing the other man’s body up his arms and chest, up to his face, cupping it in such a familiar way. He pulled him in just that much closer, thumb caressing one of his cheeks. Gordon squeezed his shoulders again in response. Both saying I love you, I love you, I love you, please don’t let me go.

Tommy found himself out of breath, and separated their lips, and he could have cried at the loss of contact. It was just one kiss, but he was already breathing heavy, lips wet and face red. Gordon opened his eyes again, and once again the green was washed out by the yellow glow, and Gordon looked at him like he was the sun and he felt like it. He felt so warm and happy. He was going to die. Supernova. Gordon loved him. He wondered how he could have ever thought anything different.

“Can we-- can I--” Gordon sputtered, clearly just as out of it as Tommy, but he knew what the other man was asking and he couldn’t be more happy to oblige. He would kiss Gordon forever, if he would let him.

Gordon pulled him back in, and they kissed again, and again, and again and again and again. Making up for lost time.

---

Himself: Tommy Coolatta, 37, taken for nearly half a year now. Joshua’s new (unofficial, technically) second dad.

Beside him: Gordon Freeman, 27, the most perfect man in the universe. Finally no longer a hermit.

In front of him: The tv, blaring some dumb kid’s movie. Tommy had a scientific appreciation for the art of animation, but this was mind-numbing. It was put on for Joshua, but he was sleeping now. On top of Tommy, actually. The whole Freeman family seemed to be made up of cuddlers.

He had no particular reason to recite, no stress pulling at his mind. He just liked to categorize and store every moment of this new life, write and file away these small memories for later. It was finally something he could enjoy doing.

He wanted to stay awake, take in the domestic scene as much as he could, but his eyes kept drooping. And it was so comfortable here; the warmth of Gordon at his side and the blanket he gave them draped over their laps, Joshua’s weight on his front, it all made him sleepy. Surely he just shut his eyes for a little. It would be fine. He didn’t care about missing the end of the movie (he wasn’t paying attention anyways), and Gordon could just wake him when it was time to properly go to bed.

Or they all could sleep through the night here, waking up in the morning just as comfortable and together as when they went to sleep. That would be fine, too. Perfect, actually.

If Tommy could have kept his eyes open any longer, they would have drowned out the light of the television, bathing the room in a yellow full of all the love in the world.

[jewishtommycoolatta]

17. Drugged & Yours

Word Count: 287

Ship: Freelatta (Tommy x Gordon)

TW for drugs/taking drugs & mentions of amputation and blood loss

-

M-m---orphine ad---ministered.

Gordon sighed in relief. While the voice of the suit was glitchy and damaged, the drug administration system was finally fixed, and he could already feel that foggy bliss rolling over his mind, dulling the sharp pain from his stump arm. 

He relaxed, leaning back slightly, only remembering he was essentially sitting in Tommy’s lap when his head hit the other man’s chest.

“Is it-- did it work, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy didn’t really need an answer, seeing as he had to gently push Gordon up to close the panel at the back of the suit, and how a dopey, drugged smile had formed on his face, but he nodded anyways.

“‘s nice,” he drawled. The suit’s morphine systems had broken a while ago, and it was just so nice to have that pain relief again. The high mixed in with his blood loss delirium and made him pliable, and Tommy let him rest his head on his chest again as he went more and more lax.

“Thats-- that’s good! We still uh, we-- we still need to get you to a-- a med station, though.” Despite saying this, Tommy was also relaxing, wrapping his arms around Gordon and pulling him closer.

Gordon let out a dazed laugh. “You… afraid I’m gonna run away? I’m not goin’ anywhere, man.”

“I-- no, I just wanted you to be--be comfortable, Mr.--”

“I’m yours.” 

Tommy startled at that, looking down at Gordon incredulously, and was met with that dopey, loving smile, staring up at him.

“So you don’t have to… worry, alright?”

He blushed. “You-- you really need that b-blood, Mr. Freeman…”

Still, though, they could stay there for a little, letting Gordon’s pain melt away in Tommy’s arms.

[goatbi]

For fluff, 2 and 9 freelatta?

sorry i forgot the sections,,

There was something to be said about Tommy, Gordon thought, how wonderful he was. Tommy was bright, a shining star that Gordon clung to in his moments of need, and Tommy would drag him out with a grin on his face and a stupid fun idea in mind. 

It Gordon took embarrassingly long to realize a few things about that, however. 

Tommy liked going out places they could do things together, bowling or laser tag or just going out to the dog park with Sunkist, who dwarfed the other dogs around her but still always gentle when she played, tail shaking the ground as it hit. Gordon loved those moments, when they would wander the park together, trusting Sunkist to come back to them, hand in hand because Tommy had seen something up ahead and grabbed Gordon’s hand to run up with him and neither of them had let go, because it was safe, it was warm, it was the two of them holding ice cream in the other hand and laughing at stupid jokes on another would tell and not letting the other’s hand go. 

Gordon hummed, looking at the horrible face of the sponge-bob popsicle he had gotten from a passing ice cream truck, which Tommy had lit up upon hearing, warm hand in Gordon’s and dragged him along laughing, and Gordon followed because what else was fae going to do, when the sun and stars dragged him along to something that made ver happy. Gordon had no choice but to follow, staring at the way Tommy’s freckles shifted color when ve laughed. 

There was something about that, with Tommy’s hand clung in faer’s, holding tight, almost too tight, like fae was worried ve would just slip away from him one day, slip from his hands like everything else had so far, but no. Tommy just squeezed his hand back and said nothing, and Gordon smiled, biting off a corner of sponge-bob’s horrible face as Tommy did the same to spider-man. 

And Gordon thought. 

They were together, hand in hand, walking down the park path, eating stupid horrible ice- cream faces together, a dog waiting for them as they rounded the path back towards where they had left her, and it hit Gordon all at once, knocking his breath from his chest, blood rushing to his face. 

“Gordon?” Tommy looked at him, worry evident for a moment, and Gordon realized he had squeezed ver hand, and he let go, not all the way, not yet, he didn’t want to let go yet, but he also didn’t want to hurt Tommy, that was the last thing on Gordon’s mind, he never wanted to hurt Tommy. “Is there a-a reason you’re blushing like that?” Tommy teased gently, and Gordon smiled up at him nervously, the sponge-bob popsicle melting down his hand. 

“Are we on a date right now?” Gordon spat out, nervous energy trailing the words, and Gordon could see the color so clearly in his mind, if he had sweet voice, he knew the murky color that would have followed those words, but nothing came, and Gordon wasn’t sure if he was disappointed by that or not, not because he wanted to be less human, but then because maybe the feeling in his chest would ease, the worry-panic that he got it wrong, that this wasn’t what was going on, despite Gordon so desperately wanting it to- 

His spiral was stopped, as the tip of one finger turned Gordon’s head up to Tommy, the spider-man popsicle dangerously held in two fingers, and they were still holding hands, they still didn’t want to let go, not yet, and Tommy smiled at him, and god, Gordon saw the universe in those eyes, in that smile and couldn’t help but grin back at him, and Tommy had to lean down so much, even when Gordon stood on tip toes to press their ligs together, but he did anyways, slow and gentle, drawing away after a moment, the two of them still grinning like idiots at one another, still holding hands in the middle of the walk way, with horrible face popsicles in their free hands, and eyes for no one but each other. 

“I’d hope so. I... This entire time, that’s what. They were supposed to be.” Tommy smiled, nervous, and Gordon grinned slightly, bringing their hands up to press a kiss to the back of Tommy’s. 

“Good.”