Work Text:
Tyler didn’t care about his name, what it looked like or what it meant, until he saw it on Josh’s skin.
Brick-layer. Tile-maker. House-builder.
Josh is passed out next to him, and he can see it through the rip in his jeans. On impulse, Tyler traces the slanted top of the T.
“Dude.”
He looks up and Josh is watching him, sleepy but awake. “Sorry.”
Josh stretches, and his hand lands on Tyler’s thigh, covering his own name—his touch and the meaning of it heavier.
Deliverance. Help. Salvation.
He smiles.
Josh’s forehead touches his, and Tyler closes his eyes.