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Who Loves You (Three Sentence Fics)

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Nick pretends not to notice how perfectly his forehead nestles in the crook of Bob's neck when he's had a few too many, and doesn't reply when the only thing Bob has to say about it is an offhanded comment about his breath. He tries his hardest to ignore the times that their hands stay together a little too long when they go for a handshake, or the fact that whenever he glances over to Bob during rehearsal he always seems to catch a glimpse of starry brown eyes before they dart around the room, presumably looking for something other than Nick to focus on.

But deep down he can see damn well what all this is doing to the both of them, so late one night when Bob's working hard on their next big hit, he nestles his hand against the back of his neck, pulls him close, and presses his own lips softly against his, hissing in surprise when he's not met with protest, but a hand running through his hair and gentle nips on his bottom lip.

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"What the fuck did you just say to me," Tommy asked, his voice laced not with anger, but incredulity.

Bob cleared his throat, "Y-You heard me," he stammered out, his brief wave of confidence dissipating quickly, "Get your damn pants off, now."

They stared at each other for an awkward few seconds before Tommy chuckled softly and curled his hand into his bandmate's shirt, pulling him down to his level, "Nice try, kid," he muttered before pulling Bob into a biting kiss.

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Nick always liked sleeping next to the guys, because all three of them had different ways of using their lips to wake him up. Bob was gentle, kissing him in the most expected of places, against his forehead, along his jaw, on his cheeks, and Frankie usually pressed against that pulse point in his neck that he figured out pretty quickly drove Nick crazy. But even now, as the haze of sleep slowly faded from his mind and he felt Tommy tight against his stomach, trailing his lips further, and further down, he knew he could never choose which way he liked best.

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As soon as Nick closed the door, Tommy burst out into laughter. "Never thought I could see Nicky go so red," he said as he threw an arm around Bob's neck, "Eh, Gaudio?"

"Oh my God," he groaned, burying his face in his hand and pulling up the blanket further to try and hide his and Tommy's naked shame.

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After some extensive research, Tommy has come to some conclusions; while Nick is the dirtiest talker out of all of them, moaning things in Tommy's ear that would make a whore blush, Bob has the hardest time keeping his mouth shut. No matter how many fingers Tommy slides into his mouth, Bob always manages to wake someone up. Though if it's about who makes the cutest noises, there's no contest, Frankie takes the cake.

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'What a waste of money,' Bob thought as he stared at the screen, trying to pay attention to some hero doing some, whatever, but the movie Frankie chose was so boring he was falling asleep. He barely even registered the hem of his shirt being lifted up, and as he opened his mouth to question it, it was too late. A pair of ice cold hands slapped down on his stomach, causing a loud yelp to echo through the theater, followed by his date's delighted laughter.

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"Who knew that mouth of yours was good for somethin' other than singin', huh?"

Releasing Tommy's cock with a pop, Frankie's eyes flicked up, his flushed lips curling into an amused smirk. "Too bad yours is only good for runnin' off," He muttered before taking a deep breath and returning to his work.

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This was wrong, this was all wrong. Whenever Bob peered around the corner, he saw people idly chatting and dancing with drinks in their hands, but when he looked down, he saw bright blue eyes staring up at him, pupils blown wide, lips pressing again, and again against his stomach, slender fingers working desperately at his belt. "Nicky," he threw his head back and damn near moaned as the clang of the belt hitting the tiled floor echoed through the hallway, "Please."

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When Bob stepped out of the bathroom with his lips painted a deep red and his eyes dusted with gold and lined perfectly, the smartass comments that Tommy had planned to say died in his throat.

"I-I dunno Tommy," Bob tugged nervously at the waist of his skirt, which was carefully picked to match his eyes, "I mean, I don't look too ridiculous, do I?"

Tommy's eyes traveled up and down Bob's body one more time before he gently grabbed Bob's waist and pulled their bodies flush together, "You look beautiful, Genius," he muttered before placing a kiss on those perfect, red lips.

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Before Frankie could even process what just happened, he felt cold, hard concrete against his back, and saw Bob kneeling beside him, holding his head and wiping away blood. Bob was saying something, but Frankie couldn't make it out, and as soon as he looked over his shoulder, and saw Nick with some guy in a headlock and Tommy yelling at him and throwing his fists around, Frankie realized he'd just been punched. Managing to sit up, with help from Bob, he flashed a quick smile, "I'm okay, Bobby, thank you."

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“Ah…” Tommy looked up at the accursed Christmas decoration, then back at his friend, who was looking down at him with a look of…something on his face, God why was Nick so hard to read?? He glanced around the room, all of their friends seemed to be waiting with baited breath, staring at the two of them like they were some kind of freakshow.

“Listen, you don’t have t–” He didn’t get to hear the rest of Nick’s statement, as the entire room erupted in applause when Tommy roughly grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for a heady kiss.

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“Shit, I’m sorry,” Nick couldn’t take his eyes off of the man who, despite his small stature, somehow managed to knock him onto the ground, “Are you okay?”

He was cute, really cute, with big irresistible deep brown puppy-dog eyes, and as he offered his hand to help him up, the man worriedly pulled his lip in between his teeth, and oh God, Nick was in love.

“Yeah, I’m…” Nick swallowed as he gingerly slipped his hand into the stranger’s, forgetting to make an attempt to stand, “A lot better now.”

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“Oh, Bobby…” Crewe pulled his lip in between his teeth, and leaned forward, giving him a soft pat on his bright red cheek, “You know I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I was just having a little fun.”

“Is that right,” Bob scoffed, but Crewe noticed he didn’t swat his hand or turn away, “Because drinking too much and kissing me in front of everybody isn’t quite my idea of ‘fun’.”

“Well there’s nobody around now,” He muttered, leaning in closer and brushing his knuckles gently across his temple, smiling softly when Bob’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into his touch, “Let me make it up to you.”

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Bobby didn’t even know why he…no, he knew exactly why he came to this stupid party, somehow Frankie figured out that with a flash of his starry brown eyes and a pout, Bobby would agree to nearly anything. So, he agreed to come, hoping to say hi to Frankie and cut out-he saw Nick taking a girl upstairs for Christ’s sake, this was not his scene-but when Tommy came up to him, yelling about something indecipherable and sloshing around his mixed drink, which truth be told was more drink than mix, he knew he was in for the long haul.

What Bobby didn’t expect, however, was staying until the party was dead, lying on the floor and talking for what seemed like hours with a surprisingly calm Tommy about nothing in particular, and not even wanting to protest when Tommy curled up next to him and draped an arm over his chest.

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Of course, the minute Bob managed to finish mopping the floor was the minute Nick and Frankie had to come bursting in, bringing the rain currently slamming against the windowpanes in with them. And of course, Tommy laughed from his seat on the couch as Frankie emerged from the makeshift shelter that was Nick's coat, "Looks like date night ran a little short, huh?" The three glares that were shot at Tommy went ignored, as usual, and as he went to grab the two of them a few towels, Bob sat them down, giving them each a cup of tea and a kiss on the cheek.

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Bob's face felt like it was on fire, the way the other three stopped their kisses and helping each other out of their clothes to stare, wide eyed and slack jawed, made him want to sink into the mattress. "C'mon, guys," He spoke meekly after what seemed like ages, "It-It's not that weird…" And he saw Frankie lean forward, no doubt about to reassure, but before he could say anything, Tommy pushed himself through him and Nick, settling in between Bob's thighs.

"Change of plan, Genius," Tommy damn near purred as he took what made everybody stop and stare into his hand, giving it a few strokes and making Bob's breath hitch, "You're gettin' a blowjob, cause I like the challenge."

 

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When he heard the door to his hotel room open, Frankie curled tighter into the blankets, because of course Bob had to come in during that fragile period between being awake and being asleep, like he did nearly every night. And then the question hit, a meek calling of his name followed by, "Are you awake," which normally he answered with yes, to which Bob would respond with talks of harmonies and melodies, but today he remained silent, wanting to get some sleep for once.

After a few precious moments of silence he felt lips quick against his temple before his roommate shuffled off to shower, leaving him alone with his thoughts, wondering why he didn't stay quiet sooner.

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After two incredibly tough days at work, two long commutes to get home, and too long without seeing each other, Nick and Tommy fell into each other’s arms, sitting in silence on the couch, slowly unwinding in each other’s presence. Maybe a little too much, if they hadn't heard a meek, “Papa, I had a nightmare,” they might’ve fallen straight to sleep. The two of them held out their arms and invited Frankie in with them, and as soon as he settled his head against Tommy’s chest, held tightly to Nick’s hand, they all finally felt at ease.

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It was supposed to be quiet, an uncomfortable silence in which the students could think about whatever actions put them in detention in the first place, but of course it rarely worked out that way, especially when Tommy DeVito had chosen the seat directly in front of his desk. Nick kept his head down, focusing on the music theory homework he needed to grade but when all of a sudden he heard electric guitars and the distinct lyrics, “hot for teacher”, he nearly choked, and shot Tommy a deadly glare. But the senior just kept on smiling, “Excuse me, teach, I gotta take this,” holding his phone to his ear and walking out the door, taking advantage of the fact that Nick was too stunned to stop him.

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When Mrs. Gaudio swung the door open, her eyes immediately widened at the sight before her. "D-Ducky," By the look on her face, she had no idea how to react to this, "I…I thought you said you were bringing your boyfriend over!"

"I did, and well…" Bobby gave the three men standing behind him a worried glance, and they all moved to put a comforting hand somewhere on him, "Here they are."

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As a gentle voice filled the room, Mary watched with an intense gaze, one Nick had never seen her use on anyone besides him unless she was trying to make him jealous, "So that's the kid you been trainin', Nicky?"

"Yeah," Nick watched in pride, and maybe a hint of jealousy, as Frankie's eyes traveled up and down Mary's figure, "He sounds real good, don't he?"

Mary hummed as she traced the rim of her glass with her finger, a devilish smirk on those beautiful red lips, "I think we should take him home with us, see just how good he really sounds."

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His lovers were curled up together on the couch, Nick on the bottom of the pile with Frankie and Bobby holding each other tight in the comfort and safety of his arms, with the sound of gentle snoring filling the tiny room. Tommy's heart skipped a beat, and the sight of the three of them so content and peaceful almost compelled him to not press down the button of his air horn.

Almost.

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Tommy's teeth were clenched down hard on the butt of his cigarette, and it was already burned halfway down when he heard the school's back door open. "Save it," He held out his hand, stopping whoever this was from talking, "I don't give a shit what you gotta say to me, just send me to Crewe's office."

Instead of someone yelling or reprimanding, he heard a calm, "Y'know, that shit'll ruin your voice, 'n I don't want that to happen," and not a moment later Tommy was grinding the cigarette into the pavement, his cheeks turning a warm, bright pink.