Tom's fingers drummed an erratic melody on the Airport benches. His eyes hadn't strayed further than the terminal exits for several minutes now. He was going to meet Chris. He was going to meet the love of his life.
His heart pounded against his rib cage like... well, he was too strung out to think of an appropriate metaphor. He was blushing, he knew he was. He was sweating buckets too, judging by the way his lengthening hair was glued to his forehead like... oh damn this!
Erupting from his seat, he proceeded to pace along the small stretch of linoleum, from the toilets to the escalators, trying his hardest to ignore the glares and confused muttering from behind him. He was tired and nervous and excited and the whole ordeal was making him nauseous.
What if he doesn't like me? What if I'm not what he expected? What if he decides to break it off and-
"Flight 787 has landed," A soft voice interrupted his pacing and he was shocked to discover a wetness trailing across his cheeks. An older woman had her wrinkled hand on his shoulder, stretching to compensate for his height. She was smiling and staring deeply into the recesses of his very soul. He gulped and didn't try to stop the entourage of apologies that erupted from his being. "You've been staring at that board all morning, son. And you didn't seem to hear the attendant."
"Oh," was all Tom could manage, hating the way his bottom lip wobbled. The old woman smiled knowingly before trotting back to her seat beside the water dispenser, her suitcases in tow. She didn't look at him again.
Almost subconsciously, he began brushing imaginary dust from his blazer and straightening his collar, finding the coarse material far too invasive. It wasn't a suit, not exactly. Chris would probably laugh at him if he wore a suit. He'd call him overdressed and probably blabber on about British customs and how endearing he found the whole thing.
People began to spill out of the exit all at once, clamoring and shouting, desperate to see families and get home to their nice, warm, beds. People ignored him for the most part, despite the fact that he probably looked like an idiot in his disheveled outfit, with his mouth unable to close fully and his blue eyes wide like saucers. Wringing his hands, he craned his neck to see just that little bit further, which was pointless really because the doors were too low and Tom wasn't small by any stretch. His mouth dried considerably and his stomach clenched when finally, finally...
"Chris?" he breathed, as the crowd of faceless obstacles cleared to reveal the very face of his dreams. The very thing that kept him up at night for a thousand different reasons, the man that he loved with his whole being, the man who helped him through the weekly struggles of living alone and having nobody, the man who was his and the man who was scored on his heart forever. "Chris." He tried again, his voice failing him for the second time. Those spectacular blue eyes (really, how it possible to possess eyes so blue?) scanned the airport for a moment before landing directly on him. That mask of curious, stunning, model-like concentration fizzled away to reveal the most dazzling smile Tom had ever had the pleasure of knowing. He found himself matching it. "Chris!"
"Tommy," the owner of that powerful, beautiful voice, that could lull him to sleep from almost ten thousand miles away, was finally right in front of him. And he'd be damned if anybody was going to take him away. "Come here."
It wasn't a demand but Tom happily obliged, dodging through the thinning crowds just to throw himself into those open (HUGE!) arms.
"Oh my God, oh my God," Tom whispered over and over again, clinging onto his boyfriend like the world was trying to split them apart. Chris clung onto the smaller man with equal ferociousness, finally able to hold him and wash away the heartache and the pain with a simple touch, with a simple kiss. Speaking of which-
"I told you before that when we met, I wasn't ever going to stop kissing you," Chris breathed, his eyes searching Tom's for any sort of discomfort. He found none, just awe and disbelief and happiness and excitement. "I don't go back on my word, Tommy."
"You better not," Tom smiled, before pressing his lips to Chris's in the most eager, passionate and longing kiss that he had ever partaken in. The taller man responded immediately, shifting his arms to grip Tom's waist, eyes suspiciously wet. He rubbed comforting circles across the thinner man's spine, adoring the shivers and smiles they elected. This was happiness. This right here was his heaven.
He didn't ever want to part from this. It was hilarious, really, thinking of the first time they'd ever spoken. They were nothing more than teasing strangers and now they were... in love? Yes, they were in love. Chris would scream it from the roof tops if his little lover would allow him. He'd paint it on every billboard and print it in every newspaper. He wasn't cliché; he was just a terrible, helpless, completely infatuated romantic. Because the love of his life was finally right here with him. Those beautiful lips were finally-
"A-hem," a voice startled the two out of their ministrations and Tom almost jumped a mile. A dark haired man was smirking at them from a few meters away, hands shoved deep within his blue parka. "Nice to meet you, Tom, do I get a welcome kiss like that?"
"Shut your mouth, Liam," Chris chuckled, squeezing Tom into his side. The poor man was blushing harder than a teenage girl during Love Island. God help him.
"I'm joking, man. What's the plan, then? You may be all set with your boy but this is my holiday too-," Liam babbled, tugging his companions out of the airport and dramatically breathing in the cold, London air. Their tans drew a lot of attention, which both men seemed to be used to. How could they not be? They were both stunning!
"I have something to say," Chris whispered as Liam began dodging his way though traffic like an over excitable teenager. "If you're thinking about leaving me for that asshole, just know that I'm way cooler."
"Oh, yeah, of course," Tom agreed with a snort, pressing a delicate kiss to his lover's cheek. Finally, finally. He'd wanted to do that since they first started dating.
"And another thing."
"Do tell, darling."
"I don't know why you worried," Chris smirked, clearing his throat and speaking absurdly loudly. "You're even hotter in real life. Look at that ass!"
Tom felt a rather firm hand on his buttocks and he yelped, flushing furiously at the shocked murmurs of strangers and Liam's terribly loud laugh.
Oh God, what was he getting himself into?
"Christopher!"
"Don't worry, beautiful. You can punish me all you want tonight."
Soo.... should I end this here?
Or write a few chapters based on their experiences and discoveries in London?
