Lessons in Kissing

[ifeelbetter]

Title: Lessons in Kissing
Author: ifeelbetter
Warning: This is ridiculous. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I own no real life people. I have no insider information into how lovely boys live their lives. All I can claim is loads and loads of wishful thinking.
Word Count: 2,593
Summary: Tom finally got a role in a romcom but he seems nervous when he meets up with JGL in NYC. Could it be that he-of-the-luscious-lips needs kissing lessons?!
Notes: Prompt from inception_kink meme: Tom finally gets to star in a romcom.


For some reason, Joe just never expected to see Tom in New York. Of course, logically speaking, he knew actors ended up there with alarming frequency and it was decidedly hard to avoid former co-stars in the city that never sleeps...but still. He just couldn't see Tom against this backdrop.

It was too fast, for one thing. When he thought of Tom, he thought of the slow grin and the lazy pace. Like the way he just hung around the fringes of the shot drinking tea with the stunt guys (who, by all rights, ought to have liked Joe better) and then nonchalantly returning to hoist a grenade-launcher on one arm like it was made of feathers.

"Oh, you want me to point this in that direction?" he'd say, shrug, and flip the whole damn thing to face the other way.

Tom couldn't be rushed. So Joe, without putting any specific thought into it, had just erased the possibility of running into Tom from his imagination the moment he'd stepped off the plane at LaGuardia.

Which meant, according to the laws of Joe's luck, that he ran into Tom two days later at a Starbucks just outside Central Park, near the Delacorte. He was on a park bench with a pretzel. He didn't see Joe approach, didn't notice when he sat down beside him, and only looked up when Joe said his name.

"Tom," he said because you can't just sit next to a guy and not say anything, "What brings you to the Big Apple?"

"Oh," said Tom, blinking like he was waking up, "I'm here for a film."

Joe frowned slightly. He would know if there was a NYC action film happening. It was the sort of thing he made it his business to know.

"It's not Mad Max still, is it?" he asked, knowing the answer. Mad Max was old news.

Tom shook his head. "Just got the part. Bit of a dream come true, actually."

Joe's heart sank a little because he'd read that interview, the one where Tom had said that he always had wanted to be in a romantic comedy. Because it was such a good thing for Joe's life that Tom fucking Hardy would take up professional soul-gazing and make-out scenes. Of course he'd do well in rom-coms. And then would come the inevitable string of rom-coms that Tom would star in and Joe would have to see them all and then the ridiculous crush he'd been nursing since Inception would need a new adjective. "Ridiculous" would no longer be ridiculous enough.

"A New York film?" he hazarded.

"Yeah, a romantic comedy, if you'd believe it," Tom said, ducking his head. He looked embarrassed. Like he'd really meant it in the interview when he'd said he didn't think he'd be believable as a romantic lead.

"You've always wanted to do one of those, right?" Joe asked casually and then realized Tom had never told him that, he'd only read it in the interview. Damn. Tom would know he kept up with his stupid interviews.

Tom just grinned at him, no hidden meaning. "Yeah," he said, "I just never thought anyone would buy it, you know?"

Joe tried to examine Tom's profile without either alerting Tom to the fact he was staring or betraying the fact that he thought Tom was lying. Tom had mirrors. He had his thousands of MySpace pictures. He must know that the only thing the world wanted more than to watch him blow buildings up in wifebeaters was to watch him have slow, romantic sex with just about anyone, really.

But Tom never bothered to hide anything. His face was open and his forehead was winkled. He actually thought he'd be bad at it.

Joe had to take a long sip from his coffee to mask the fact that he wanted to laugh.

"I've been in tons of rom-coms," he said. "I could--I don't know--talk you through it?"

Tom's face lit up and Joe cursed the childhood that had not taught Tom to keep that much pretty under wraps. It wasn't even noon yet. Joe wasn't mentally equipped to watch Tom grin like that.

"That would be brilliant," he said. "I didn't know who to ask. Hollywood's such a pit of plonkers, I didn't want to admit to anyone I needed help."

Joe swallowed another mouthful of coffee, draining his cup dry.

* * *

Tom suggested they meet up for dinner the next day and he'd have a list of things he wanted to ask. Joe tried not to smile at that--Tom was obviously over-thinking things. Joe's experience with romantic comedy as a genre was that you just needed to look like a sad puppy until a make-out scene. And Tom had more than enough experience with the sad puppy look...and he must have been a pro at the making out. The world wouldn't make sense if he didn't have lines around the block filled with people waiting to take that mouth out for a spin.

But Joe agreed. It was dinner with Tom Hardy, after all. Why wouldn't he want to sit across from that for an entire evening?

He got a text from Tom ridiculously early the next morning: Gobo? In West Village. 7?

Joe frowned at his phone, tapping the screen with his thumb. Gobo was a vegan restaurant. He hadn't mentioned going vegan when they'd run into each other at the park and he'd only started being a vegan two weeks ago. How had Tom known? He had mentioned it to that blogger, the girl with the dreadlocks and hemp clothing, but that was an obscure little blog. There was no way Tom had read that.

Are you reading my interviews? he typed. Then he thought about his fifth grade math teacher and how he'd endlessly repeated, "Don't assume or you'll make an 'ass' out of you and 'me.'" It was stupid but he erased the entire message.

You realize it's vegan, right? he tried next. Then he erased that one too.

Sure. That was simple. He'd stick with simple.

* * *

Tom's list was ridiculous. He asked the first two, reading directly off the scribbled note-paper, before Joe insisted he pass the thing over.

1. What do I do if my female co-star isn't as pretty as me?

Joe snorted.

"Who's your female co-star?" he asked.

Tom shrugged. "It's just precautionary. They haven't cast her yet."

"Everyone's pretty in rom-coms. I think she'll be able to match your pretty."

Joe may have been lying. There weren't many people who could match Tom's pretty. Even with the crooked teeth.

2. Do I look believably sappy when I do my soulful look?

"You're going to have to demonstrate your 'soulful look' for me to be able to answer that," Joe pointed out.

Tom demonstrated it and Joe bit his tongue by accident.

"Yeah, you're fine," he said, only wincing slightly.

3. Will it be a problem that I can't tango?

"Is there a scene with a tango?" Joe asked because that seemed to be an important factor.

"There was talk," Tom said ominously.

"There are people who can teach you how to tango," Joe pointed out. "You pay them, they give you private lessons, you grip a rose in your teeth..."

Tom grimaced. "You realize I've never even had a personal trainer?"

"What do you call Peanut then?" Joe asked.

Tom looked thoughtful for a minute. "I meant like you Hollywood types have. Me and Peanut, he just jumped on my back when we had to do a flight of stairs. Then we ate pasta. It wasn't so much training as...I don't know what it was."

The food arrived so there was a pause before Joe returned to the list. It was amazing how easily conversation flowed between them, how thoroughly he enjoyed the warmth of Tom's grin.

4. How do you learn how to kiss romantically?

Joe nearly spat out his carrot juice when he read that question.

"You're joking, right?" he asked because there was no way Tom was seriously asking for advice on that one.

"No, like, I know how to kiss," Tom said (making "kiss" sound like "brush my teeth" or "make coffee"), "obviously, but I don't know if it's..." he floundered for the right word. Joe raised an eyebrow, waiting for Tom to choose an adjective. "...romantic?"

"You don't know whether you kiss romantically or not?" Joe asked, just to be sure.

Tom's blush was enough to answer Joe's question.

"How have you been kissing the rest of the time if it wasn't romantic?" Joe asked. Curiosity may have killed the cat but at least it didn't have to die perplexed.

"You know," said Tom, waving a hand non-distinctly. "To get the job done."

"To get the job done?" Joe repeated.

Tom shrugged.

"Like a business transaction? 'I'll trade you a pint of my saliva for a pint of yours' kind of thing?"

"In a way, I suppose," Tom said. He was still blushing, looking around the restaurant instead of directly at Joe. "It's expected, isn't it? So you have to do it."

"You make it sound like a chore," Joe said. He realized he was being impolitic but he really couldn't stop pushing the point.

Tom shrugged again. Joe's mind, which was already thoroughly boggled, boggled even more at the thought of shrugging about kissing.

"Are you doing it wrong?" Joe asked, still trying to work out the puzzle. "You know the one set of lips goes on top of the other other set of lips, right? Logistically speaking?"

"Thank you, yes, I get the logistics," said Tom. "It just has never seemed all that...romantic."

Joe tried to fit his brain around it. "No, nope, definitely don't understand," he said at last with finality.

"Look--" said Tom and that was all the warning Joe got.

He should have expected it, really. Tom had been like that about everything when they were filming. Someone would try to work out the practical details of a scene ("So I'll turn when I get to the door, you'll look at me...") but Tom would just do it. And it would work.

So he just leaned across the table and pulled Joe in by the back of his neck.

When Joe got his brain back in working order, the kiss was over. Tom was settling back into his seat looking expectantly at Joe. He realized he was supposed to be analyzing the kiss.

He closed his eyes and re-played it. Tom was right, there was something business-like about the way he kissed. Not that it was bad. It definitely wasn't bad. But he didn't really have to try very hard. Not with that mouth.

Joe thought he deserved awards, a lifetime supply of pie or something, for the way he was critically analyzing Tom Hardy's kissing technique.

"Yeah, alright, I see what you mean," he said finally.

The waitress coughed by his elbow.

"Will that be all, gentlemen?" she asked politely. Right under the words, unmistakably, was another message: Please stop making out in my high-end restaurant. You look like horny teenagers.

They paid their bill quickly and exited.

The conversation had turned, the kissing issue shelved. They talked about other things--how to bond with the co-star you'll eventually have to make out with, how awkward it had been for Joe to kiss Zooey (who was more like a sister than anything else), that sort of thing--as they strolled around the area.

They ended up in Washington Square Park just as the conversation moved back to kissing. Joe felt it coming like some kind of unstoppable juggernaut. It was sunset and he was going to have to give platonic kissing lessons to Tom Hardy (and his mouth) in a park. Life didn't seem to like him much.

Tom kept edging back towards the topic. He was obviously worried and Joe would be a terrible person to avoid it just because he was worried his heart would break messily all over the sidewalk.

He gave in. "Look," he said, "the problem is that you've got it too easy."

Tom raised an eyebrow. They had been talking about makeup girls and gossip so Joe couldn't blame him for having to take a minute to catch up.

"It's your mouth, OK? You've just got too good a mouth," Joe said. "Everyone else in the world had to learn technique but you didn't because you've got that mouth." He pointed at Tom's mouth helpfully, in case Tom had forgotten where he left it.

Tom pressed his lips together, like he wasn't aware of them. Joe found it very hard to look away.

"My mouth is too good?" Tom repeated thoughtfully.

"Yes," Joe agreed emphatically.

"But you know all sorts of technique because your mouth..."

"Is nowhere near as good as yours. Yes."

Tom looked at him and Joe could see his eyes shift from Joe's eyes down to his lips. It was the tiniest of movements but Joe was spellbound.

"So this 'technique,'" said Tom casually, still watching Joe's mouth. Joe licked his lips nervously.

"Alright, yes, my technique," he said, "I'm going to show you my technique." He had to say it out loud because it was sounding ridiculous in his head.

"Yeah," Tom said, "show me what you've got."

Joe reached a hand up to Tom's face--even his stubble was ridiculously soft like no stubble had any right to be--and cupped his cheek. It was standard romantic comedy stuff and he let his other hand cup the other side of Tom's face, pulling him in gently.

"I think it's all about anticipation," he said when their mouths were close enough to bump gently against each other as he spoke.

"Draw it out, got it," Tom said.

"For as long as possible," Joe said. Their lips were pressing together more than apart by then, he was basically breathing his words directly into Tom's mouth.

Then he gave a scouting kind of kiss, just a chaste peck, and then another and then another. Then the space between the kisses got shorter and their mouths were just pressed against each other. Joe slid his tongue gently, slowly, across the seam of Tom's mouth.

Tom made a noise in the back of his throat. His hands were on Joe's hips, pulling Joe closer, and then sliding up his back under his shirt.

Joe pulled back. He couldn't pull back all that far, not with Tom still holding him. "See?" he said. "Romantic kissing, 101."

"Let's see if I retained the lesson," said Tom. He cupped Joe's face, just as Joe had just cupped his.

"So far so good," said Joe, a little breathless.

"Wait for it," said Tom. He pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of Joe's mouth. Then another to the other corner. Then a series of the same brief, chaste little kisses.

Joe really couldn't be blamed for interrupting the slow progression of chaste kisses then or for nearly devouring Tom's mouth. He definitely could have explained the way his hands found their way behind Tom, down a little lower than Tom's had been on his back.

This time it was Tom who pulled away.

"I think I'm ready for the advanced classes," he said. "Somewhere more private."

Joe took a step back, looking for something in Tom's face. He wasn't sure whether he was looking for a sign that Tom meant it literally, that he really was interested in a lesson, or whether he was looking for some kind of promise. He wasn't sure what he was looking for and he definitely wasn't able to identify what he saw on Tom's face.

But they were in a park in the Village at sunset and Tom was beautiful in the sunset. So he said the only thing he really could say.

"Yeah."