buckieandthebeast

[buckieandthebeast]

inspired by this gorgeous art by @newtkelly 🌹💕

It's just a normal Tuesday. They're about two hours out from the end of their shift and Buck is upstairs in the kitchen, finishing up the dinner dishes, when Chimney's voice floats up from the floor below.

"Hey, uh... hey Buck? I think you have a visitor."

He sounds a little weird, almost like he's trying to hide something. Buck frowns and grabs a dishtowel. "Be right down," he calls back.

He hops down the last few steps, rounds the front of an engine at a jog, opens his mouth to ask what's going on and – stops dead.

Tommy is standing in the middle of the ambulance bay, feet planted like he's expecting someone to come along and shove him out the big garage doors – and from the slightly murderous glare Eddie is throwing his way, it might be a valid concern. He's wearing a cream colored Henley and his hair is tousled, a couple artful locks falling over his brow.

But what stops Buck in his tracks – what roots his boots to the floor and makes his mouth drop slightly open – are the flowers.

Tommy's arms are absolutely overflowing with roses. There's got to be at least two dozen, maybe even three, wrapped in classic brown paper with a bright ribbon holding it closed. They're full and perfectly opened and a deep, rich red, with a handful of pink and white carnations scattered through the bouquet that, rather than distracting from the roses, just make them look even more luxurious by comparison.

"Hey," Tommy says. "Happy Valentine's Day, Evan. Can we talk?"

Buck spends at least two and a half seconds fruitlessly opening and closing his mouth.

"Valentine's Day isn't until Friday," is what eventually comes out. He can practically hear Eddie's eye roll from behind him.

One corner of Tommy's mouth lifts in a tight little smile. "I know," he says. "But this is the day I knew for sure you'd be on shift, so."

"Oh. Right," Buck says stupidly.

"These are for you." Tommy hefts the armful of roses and Buck automatically steps forward to take them. His fingers brush the backs of Tommy's hands as he does so.

He could swear he feels a spark. Maybe it's just static electricity. But Tommy's eyes widen minutely, so he must feel it too, whatever it is.

"You, uh. You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah. Yes." Tommy clears his throat. Buck is intensely aware of the fact that they have an audience. Eddie is still frowning, Chim is doing a very bad job pretending he's not hanging on every word they say, and even Bobby has paused what he was doing to lean too-casually against a wall, arms folded and carefully neutral expression on his face. "I have thought... so much about what I want to say to you. I've gone around and around, telling myself if I could just find the right words, I could make you understand. And then telling myself I haven't even earned the right to try." Tommy takes a deep breath. "It shouldn't have taken me so long to get my shit together and come talk to you. You deserved better than that, Evan. But I... I'm here now."

"I'm listening," Buck says. He's glad he can hold the flowers, because he doesn't know what to do with his hands. Tommy seems to be having the same problem; he clasps them awkwardly in front of himself, then unclasps them, then goes to shove them in his pockets and seems to change his mind, rubbing them briefly against his hips instead.

"Thank you. Thank you for being willing to listen," he says. "I... I never found exactly the right words. But I know what I want to say. First, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I fucked up, and I panicked, and I just kept panicking until it felt like it was too late to do anything else. Second, there are still things I hope we can talk about, things I tried to say that night that I couldn't get out right. Stuff about my past, and questions about the future. But most important... Third. I do want a future with you, Evan. Everything you said that night, I want it so... so badly. And it took me walking out to realize that, because I'm an idiot, and a coward, but all I learned by being without you these last couple of months was..."

Tommy trails off. His eyes have never looked so blue. "Was how much I don't want to be without you," he says simply.

There's a long moment of silence. You could hear a pin drop in the firehouse. It's as if everyone in the building is holding their breath. All Buck can see is Tommy – Tommy, with his broad shoulders, and his fidgety hands, and his blue eyes, full of hope and tears.

"Can someone come take these flowers, please?" Buck says over his shoulder, without unlocking his eyes from Tommy's. Chimney comes up behind him and gently takes the bouquet from his hands, stepping back without a word.

Buck takes a step forward. And then another. And then Tommy steps too, and then their arms are wrapped tightly around each other, cheeks pressed together, and it's as if the entire station heaves a sigh of relief.

"You are an idiot," Buck whispers fiercely into Tommy's neck.

"I know."

"This doesn't magically fix the fact that I'm still really mad at you."

"I know, Evan. I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I promise."

Buck pulls back far enough to look Tommy in the eye again, and what he sees there reassures every uncertain inch of him: sincerity. Hope. Apology. Even – he dares to hope – love.

He begins to lean back in, but before he can crush his mouth to Tommy's, the bell rings – because of course it does – and the alarm squawks, calling the 118 to a house fire a couple neighborhoods over. Buck reluctantly tears himself loose and heads for the engine.

"Don't you dare leave!" he yells to Tommy, pointing a dramatic finger at him.

"I won't! I'll wait right here for you!" Tommy yells back.

Chim claps Tommy on the shoulder and shoves the bouquet back in his hands as he runs past. The last thing Buck sees before they pull out and round the corner is Tommy's smile, blindingly bright above a cascade of red roses.

[buckieandthebeast]

anyway today i'm thinking about tommy who only at fifteen was six feet tall, football setting his shoulders broad and his core strong, growing up always aware of the strength and the mass he's carried moving around buck so so carefully. just a light palm on the small of his back when they're on the sidewalk, a gentle tug at his wrist when he wants him close, kissing his eyelashes and his cheeks in the morning like buck is not a fellow man of force and sturdiness.

except of course when he's pummeling into him at the end of every day like he's trying to break all his bones and buck is jolting under him, over him, around him hoping that he does 🥰

[buckieandthebeast]

Arrivals

Day 8 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: surprise read on ao3 read other days here

Buck smells like an airport. He couldn’t accurately describe what that smell entails, but he knows he stinks of it. He’s exhausted, his feet hurt, and his bad leg is swollen from the pressure changes. He wants to take his sneakers off, drink a massive glass of icy-cold water, and fall into bed; in that order. 

But no matter how crappy he feels, he won’t let a single word of complaint pass his lips. Any discomfort he’s experiencing has to be dwarfed by what Maddie’s going through. She just did the same amount of traveling as him, and she's six months pregnant. Thank God they were only in Pennsylvania for the weekend. His Mom’s retirement party went well, Buck didn’t make a fool of himself, and Maddie was glowing. But being with his parents was as exhausting as ever. 

And that’s not including the fact that they still have no idea how to deal with Buck dating a man. 

They have never cared about anyone he’s dated before, as long as he wasn’t embarrassing them or getting a girl pregnant. And then they saw him with Tommy at Maddie’s wedding. They didn’t say anything, but Buck could feel his Mom’s eyes on him the whole time. Even as he escorted a half-asleep Tommy to his Jeep, they only waved half-heartedly. He assumed they had decided it was a phase, and didn’t need to introduce themselves. 

When he told them on Friday that Tommy was on special deployment, or he would have brought him along, his mom stuttered over three different sentence starts. She finally ended up with, “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

Before Buck could think better of it, he said, “Technically, I’m with him again.” That had kicked off a barebones explanation of their break-up and reconciliation, which his parents had not reacted well to. 

The rest of the weekend continued in the same tone.  

The pointed, leading questions, which he pretended to misunderstand. The insinuations that he didn’t know his own mind, which he ignored. The blatant aspersions against Tommy, blaming him for confusing Evan and leading him on. Those he addressed immediately, and at one point, it would have devolved into a shouting match, if not for Maddie. 

Suffice to say, he’s happy to be back in Los Angeles, even if he still has an hour long Uber ride ahead of him. Normally, he knows his family would be tripping over themselves to pick them up from the airport, but Chimney is home with a still-sick-but-recovering Jee, and the rest of the 118 is on shift. Most disappointingly, Tommy’s still fighting the wildfires up north, piloting water bombers for another week and a half.

Buck will be going home to an empty loft. 

The baggage carousel comes into view, so Buck parks Maddie by a nearby column and goes to wait for their bags. She’s digging her cell out as he turns away. He checks his own phone, finds ‘welcome home’ messages from the group chat, but nothing from Tommy. He’s probably in the air. Or sleeping. Eventually, a familiar navy bag and maroon suitcase come into view. His duffle gets slung over a shoulder and he leads Maddie’s wheeling suitcase over. They head towards Arrivals without any words exchanged. Maddie’s walking slowly, obviously tired, breath puffing out of her mouth as she rests one hand low on her belly. Buck wraps an arm around her shoulders and she leans into him. 

“I wish Chimney and Jee could have come with us. He’s so good with Mom and Dad, and Jee is so distracting.” She sighs. “I’m sorry again. About what they were saying. I wish they would just be happy for you.”

“It’s alright Mads, I wasn’t about to let you fly to Hershey all alone. I can deal with them for a weekend.”

She lapses into silence again. They turn another corner and step onto an escalator, finally descending to ground level. The Arrivals area is a wider section of the terminal, an open space, right by the main exit. Floor to ceiling windows let in the setting sun. There’s people all around, reunions between travelers and their families happening in a hundred different languages, a hundred different cultures. Buck steers them through the crowd, hearing the laughter and tears in the voices surrounding them. There’s a line of people by the doors, holding signs. Sunbeams edge everyone in gold.

One of the signs says “Buckley.”

Wait, what? His eyes jerk from the sign to the man holding it. 

Holy shit. It’s Tommy. How?!

Buck stops dead. Their eyes meet. He knows his mouth is hanging open. Tommy’s smiling widely, almost laughing at the dumbfounded expression that Buck knows he’s sporting. His face crinkles adorably with the force of his joy. His eyes are sparkling. 

The arm Buck has around Maddie’s shoulder jerks her to a stop too. People continue to stream around them. She darts a look at his face, bursting into laughter and following his gaze to Tommy. She waves, still giggling. Tommy’s already striding over, eating up the distance between them until he's close enough to touch.

Two big hands settle on his cheeks, pinkies applying the smallest pressure to his jaw. His teeth clack together when he finally remembers to shut his mouth. A chaste, gentle kiss is pressed to his lips.

“Hi baby. Welcome home.”

Stupidly, all Buck can think to say is, “you’re supposed to be in Oregon.”

Tommy chuckles. “I was, but the Canadians showed up early, so they sent us home.” His hands drop down to wrap around Buck’s. Their fingers intertwine without Buck’s input. “Surprised?”

Buck nods. He recognizes he’s staring, like Tommy is a hallucination that might disappear at any second, but it's been nearly three weeks since he’s seen his boyfriend. He’s just had a shitty weekend in his hometown, playing the part of a dutiful son to strangers, while worrying about his sister and his unborn nibling, and dealing with the casual disregard he’s come to expect from his parents. Only this time, there was a nice heaping tablespoon of biphobia sprinkled on top. He needs a minute.

Maddie lays a hand on both of their elbows. “Good timing Tommy, I was worried we were going to beat you to the exit.”

Buck whips his head around to stare at her. “You knew!”

She giggles again. He spins back to Tommy. He’s flushed from laughter, radiant in the early evening light. Buck’s gaze darts over his face. His blue eyes, his crow’s feet, his perfect teeth. The cleft. He’s beautiful, and he’s here for Buck. 

It feels like his brain finally comes back online. Tommy’s here. For Buck.

Buck lunges forward, driving a little oomph out of Tommy and wrapping his arms around him tightly. He squeezes and lifts, hoisting Tommy a few inches into the air, making him flail and squeak out an undignified noise. Maddie snorts, bending at the waist, helpless with mirth. Tommy’s hands land on his shoulders, fingertips digging into the muscle, little spots of warm pressure. 

“Evan! Put me down, oh my God. I missed you too!”

[buckieandthebeast]

#BRAT

[buckieandthebeast]

my attention?

[buckieandthebeast]

his ex was the last person evan buckley expected to show up at the fire station on valentine’s day…… does tommy have the stuff to win him back?

[buckieandthebeast]

sketching some bucktommy tonight yayyyy <33

[buckieandthebeast]

Gentleman

day 8 for @bucktommyfluffebruary

---

It's Buck's first time making out with a guy and his entire being is buzzing. Tommy is busy kissing and licking his neck, hands up the back of his sweater, his heavy weight anchoring Buck to the here and now, his hot body pliant and yielding to Buck's touch.

For the first time in a very long time, Buck is not fully confident of what he's doing. The scrape of beard stubble on skin is so novel to him that he loses himself to the sensation, and he keeps hearing tiny high-pitched sounds escape from his mouth that he doesn't even know he could make.

"All good?" Tommy whispers, pulling back slightly, his lips red and wet and delectable. Buck wraps a hand around his boyfriend's neck and tugs him down for a kiss. The press of Tommy's nose into his cheek and the slide of their tongues together are familiar yet different; he skims his hand over Tommy's jaw and arches his hips upwards, instinctively seeking something.

He gasps when he feels it, and then he wraps a long leg around Tommy's waist to pull him down, press that delicious hardness against himself.

"Baby," Tommy groans into Buck's neck. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

Buck smiles and rocks his hips up rhythmically. "I'm not looking for a gentleman."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," Buck replies. He works out the placement of their limbs and somehow manages to flip them over. "I think gentlemen are overrated." He leans downa and bites Tommy's cleft playfully. "Feel free to be extremely ungentlemanly with me."

Tommy raises an eyebrow. His big hands slide to Buck's waist, and then his thick fingers slip under Buck's waistband. "You are full of surprises, baby."

Buck digs his nose into the softness under Tommy's jaw. "I'm sure you can surprise me too." Rolling his hips, he murmurs, "Starting with showing me what's in your pants."

"You're incorrigible," laughs Tommy, and pulls off Buck's sweater in one rough yank. Buck yelps, delighted. "Ungentlemanly it is."

[buckieandthebeast]

Tommy looks at Buck like he is already mourning the moment he will have to look away it haunts me at night

[buckieandthebeast]

OLIVER STARK as EVAN ‘BUCK’ BUCKLEY 9-1-1 8x05 - MASKS

[buckieandthebeast]

i will forever mourn the version of buck we got with tommy. buck who was giggly and flirty. who was coy and smitten and bashful. who wore the brightest and widest smile i’ve even seen on him. light twinkly eyes that were full of so much love and fondness. he was so sure of himself, so sure for once abut what he wanted, how his future was going to look like. and im scared that we will never get that version of buck again.

[buckieandthebeast]

And how about TOMMY getting pinned or carried? 🫢

not a lot of space in there 🤨

[buckieandthebeast]

s1 buck, already out and comfortably bisexual, who steals the firetruck to hook up with this guy from grindr only it’s tommy and he’s like. listen. you need to bring this back. this isn’t cute. i’ll fuck you about it later but oh my god. say hi to chim and hen for me. jesus christ.

[buckieandthebeast]

Palinopsia 9-1-1: bucktommy | rated M | 1279 words | Fluffebruary Day 6 Prompt: stargazing

read below or read on ao3 - written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

♡ ♡ ♡

The wine in his mouth is sweet and fruity.  Buck swallows, swims in the taste of it, clutches at the warm bottle with a clumsy hand.  Tommy stares at him, his eyes half-lidded, propped up on his elbows in the bed of the truck.  That gaze sears. He feels it sharp and thin as it passes through him.  He needs another drink.  He wants to make the bottle last.

With a sigh he closes his eyes.  He lifts his head up, where the moon hangs plump and milk-full in the palm of the sky.  The stars are bright.  An after image of the sky, with pin-prick lights, flashes across his eyelids. If he opened his eyes he’d see the same sky. If he opened his eyes he could turn and see Tommy, sitting there beside him.

The wine bottle is pulled from his fingers and he blinks, looks over to see the rim of it pressed to Tommy’s plush mouth. It’s cheap wine; they bought several bottles. For a moment Buck wishes they had splurged and gotten better. Especially for their first real date post-reconciliation.

“Hey,” he says. “Tommy?”

“Hmm?” Tommy hums and looks over. He’s long and languid in the dark, poured out easy alongside Buck on the blankets they’d laid out. Loose-limbed and handsome. Buck wants to press his hands on him, over every part of him, burn the circle of his palm into Tommy’s body as long-lasting and sky bright as the stars. “Evan? What is it?”

“Do you know your uh, your sign?”

Tommy’s mouth curls. A smirk. Buck wishes he could see him better, could look into the blue of his eyes. “That your best line, huh? What’s my sign?”

“Not like that,” Buck says, laughing. He gently pushes Tommy’s shoulder. “I just mean, because—“  He points up to the sky, swirls his finger around. “Taurus,” he says. “The constellation.”

Tommy stares at Buck for a moment that stretches too long before turning his gaze up to the sky. “Taurus?” He asks. “That’s the bull, right? I’ll be honest, I can’t tell where it is.” He grabs Buck’s hand and links their fingers together.  Gentle lips press a kiss to the tops of his knuckles. “Don’t usually need to use the stars to navigate.”

Buck pulls his hand away and traces the shape of the constellation on Tommy’s chest. His flannel overshirt is unbuttoned and the tank he’s wearing under it is thin. Buck can feel the soft brush of his chest hair through the fabric. “Taurus,” he says, affecting a lecturing tone. Tommy smiles. “Is the bull. It’s one of the zodiac signs, and it’s one of the biggest, oldest constellations we know of. Do you see that bright star, kind of blue? Well it’s a cluster of stars, you can see more like six. It’s in Taurus, can you see that?”

Tommy scoots closer until they’re pressed together. “Right there?” he asks, arm raised to the sky. He points and Buck sketches the long line of him from fingertip to shoulder. He swallows and it feels like starlight lodged in his throat.

“Yeah,” he says, hoarse, and it tastes like longing when he speaks. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Tommy’s shoulders wiggle, like he’s pleased with himself, and his arm falls back to his side. He takes Buck’s hand again. Their palms press together, a little ball of heat between them in contrast to the cool night air.

“That’s the Pleiades,” Buck says. “The seven sisters.”

“Oh?” Tommy’s voice is soft and warm. Inviting. Like he’s asking Buck to tell him more without actually asking. He’s been… careful. In how they’ve communicated since they got back together. Neither seems to want to stretch things too far or ask too much, and though they’re starting off with a strong foundation, both are hesitant to test it. 

Buck wants him so much. Even when he’s beside him, solid and beautiful and red-mouthed from cheap wine, Buck wants him.

Something must show in his face, because Tommy’s expression changes. He licks his lips and rolls onto his side, throwing his free arm over Buck’s middle. He presses his face into Buck’s neck and lavishes him with a string of warm, delicate kisses. He smacks against Buck’s skin with a rapturous mouth. A wet mouth.  A mouth making promises Buck thinks it can keep. 

“Tell me,” Tommy says, speaking against him. Each word puffs out as a breath of humid air. “The Pleiades. I want to know.”

“O-okay.” He swallows, nervous, beset with a sudden churning in his stomach.  “Even though the naked eye can only see something like those six stars… there are maybe a thousand or so up there in the cluster.”  Blunt teeth nibble at the spot below his ear.  His breath hitches.  “And it’s about 444 light years from earth.  Which is, uh, relatively close.  As far as stars go.”

“Oh is it?”  Tommy’s hand crawls finger by finger lower down Buck’s torso, stopping to pluck at the waistband of his jeans.  “I didn’t know.  You’re full of fun facts, aren’t you, Evan?”

I am , Buck thinks, I am.   And I want to be full of you .

He wants the weight of Tommy’s body on his, he wants the curl of his tongue in his mouth.  He wants thick fingers inside him, the fat, pulsing heat of Tommy’s cock to split him open like a blessing. 

He wants cozy mornings wrapped around each other.  Dinners cooked together and shared, where he gets to put his love, material and nourishing, onto a plate.  He wants to stop seeing Tommy everywhere, all the time, the image of him fading as it repeats and repeats, until the absence of him is burned into Buck’s life.  Or it was, he thinks.  His absence.  He’s not absent anymore.  He’s present and real, with his hand on Buck’s stomach and his mouth on Buck’s neck.

“I went stargazing a lot when, uh.  When I was travelling.”  Tommy pauses for a second, his grip on Buck’s hand tightening.  And then he eases back into him, pressing closer, gentling his kisses into something more tender.  “I found an old guide to the night sky at a library book sale and used it to kind of… map out the stars.  Some of the ranchers taught me constellations, too.”

“Evan,” Tommy whispers.  He curls his body into Buck’s like an open parenthesis, like what he’s about to say is quiet and secret, not yet ready for an end.  “Thank you,” he says.

Buck grabs at his bicep where it lays across his torso.  He nudges into Tommy’s hair.  “For what?  Tommy.  You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do,” Tommy says.  “You taught me about stars.  You drank shitty wine with me in the back of my truck.”  He quiets and hooks an ankle around Buck’s and tugs his leg.  It’s awkward, with Tommy’s boots, and Buck imagines the tangle of their bodies when they’re undressed, just soft sheets and their warm, comfortable underclothes between them.  But he shifts closer anyway.  Tommy rubs the tip of his lovely nose against Buck’s shoulder.  He nuzzles in and plants a few kisses onto his neck.  One.  And another.  A soft disappearing line that Buck can feel even after Tommy's mouth moves on to the next lucky patch of skin.  “And you took me back.”

“Of course,” Buck says.  “Fuck, Tommy, I…”  I love you .

“Of course,” Tommy repeats.  The stars are fairy lights above them.  The stars shine.  The stars spill out across the stretched velvet expanse of the sky, blanketing the sleeping curve of the earth.  “Of course.”

Of course. I love you.

Of course.

[buckieandthebeast]

silver linings

so that bts video, huh??? i got a lil brain worm and. well. now i have 1.3k of spec fic. under the cut for anyone avoiding bts/potential spoilers 💛

It was raining. Of course it was raining.

The clouds that had gathered that morning had seemed like enough of a bad omen when Buck woke that morning, back stiff from a night on his old air mattress since Eddie's couch had been packed away. Eddie had made a halfhearted joke about clouds with silver linings as they packed the last few things into the U-Haul, Buck had glared at him without comment, and then, without further ado, the sky had opened up.

Unfortunately, it was just normal rain—barely more than drizzle—and Eddie was fully capable of driving in it, so it wouldn't do more than slow him down a little.

It wouldn't keep him here.

Logically, Buck knew this was the best choice Eddie could be making. Chris needed him, and he needed Chris. It made sense, even if he hated it. But his traitor brain kept running through the list of people who'd left him, for one reason or another. Maddie Abby Ali Maddie Eddie Taylor Natalia Bobby Tommy Eddie; it was a never-ending loop, and he couldn't make it stop. But that wasn't Eddie's fault, it wasn't his problem, it was entirely Buck's to deal with. So he slapped on his best smile—sure, it probably looked more like a grimace, but he was trying—and drew Eddie in for a hug.

He let himself hang on for longer than he probably should've, and when they pulled back, he ran to his truck for the bag of cookies and snacks he'd made. If he used that as an opportunity to wipe tears from his eyes, well, that was nobody's business but his.

When he got back, he handed off the bag, and Eddie just stared at it for a moment.

"Of course you're still baking."

"Well, yeah. Gotta fill my time somehow with everybody busy or—or gone." It came out harsher than he intended. "Sorry, that's not fair."

Eddie looked almost...nervous, passing the bag back and forth between his hands.

"So, I have an apology to make," he began.

Oh.

"Dude, come on, you already tried to apologize. I told you, I get it."

"No, not for—" Eddie gestured at the U-Haul. "I know you get it, but it still sucks for you, I know. But that's not what I mean. I mean for Tommy."

Buck's brow furrowed. "Tommy? What about Tommy?"

"I told you not to call him," he said simply. "I mean, I actively stopped you from calling him, too. We all did. And that wasn't fair, to you or him."

"Why the hell are you bringing this up now?" That, more than anything, made Buck's temper start to simmer in his veins. He'd spent far longer than he cared to admit agonizing over it, finally convincing himself that if everybody he knew was saying he shouldn't reach out, maybe they were right. And now Eddie was trying to take it back? "It's been months, Eddie, I can't just call him up now because—because, what, you feel guilty?"

"Because we were wrong. And you still miss him." Eddie shook the bag in Buck's direction. "I know you do."

"I miss a lot of people. So what?"

Eddie cringed a little, but Buck couldn't bring himself to feel bad for the harsh edge to his tone. This was not how he pictured saying goodbye going, standing in the rain arguing with his best friend before he left the state, anger getting close to boiling over.

"So, I called him." Eddie paused, visibly steeling himself. "A couple days ago. I figured he should know I was leaving, I wanted to say bye. See how he was doing. We got a beer and talked some and—shit, Buck, I should've just let you call. The man's a mess. He's hiding it, or trying to, but he is. He knows he fucked up, he wanted to reach out, too, but he thought you were fine with it, so he stayed away."

Despair shot through him. Tommy had wanted to reach out, too? Tommy thought he was fine with it? Eddie's words put so much of the last few months in a different perspective. The times he'd caught him bubbling, what if he'd started typing too, given Tommy a sign, any sign, that they were thinking about each other, instead of him just believing it was one-sided?

"Eddie, what the fuck."

"I know a thing or two about running because things are moving in a way you weren't expecting and not knowing how to get control back. I think that was his problem, he's used to being in control and, man, you hit him like a freaking hurricane. Figuratively and literally, I guess. But he's still completely gone on you, and I know you are on him, so. It means I made the right choice."

"The—the right choice? Eddie, what—"

"Told you. I called Tommy."

Eddie reached out and clapped Buck on the shoulder, then waved behind him.

"Hey, man."

"Hey Eddie."

Buck turned slowly, as though if he moved too fast he'd find someone else behind him. But no, it was Tommy; and Eddie was right. He was a bit of a mess. The average person probably wouldn't have noticed—he was, as always, devastatingly attractive. But Buck could tell that the hollows under his eyes were deeper than he'd ever seen them, the stubble on his jaw grown out a little more than he'd ever let it get while they were together. He was even holding himself differently, hands balled up in the pockets of his hoodie, just like they'd been when they'd met for coffee after Buck fucked things up the first time.

He had that same look on his face, too, that unsure, nervous look that still said I hope as he smiled softly.

"Evan."

Fuck, he'd missed hearing that. He let out a shaky breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, itching to reach out and wrap his arms around Tommy like he'd been dying to for months, unsure how it would be received. But Eddie was behind him, pushing him gently in his direction.

"Go on, Buck. You guys got this," Eddie whispered in his ear.

He got one more hug, then Eddie moved forward to hug Tommy as well. Buck would have felt bad about the way his and Tommy's eyes met and didn't leave each other the whole time if Eddie hadn't orchestrated this whole thing to begin with.

He left, quietly, the U-Haul pulling away with little fanfare, and they were still staring at each other. The rain was still falling, soaking their hair and clothes, and it was a single drop trailing down Tommy's nose to sit on the tip of it that finally made Buck move. He stepped into Tommy's space, gently reaching out and wiping it away with his thumb, and then it was the easiest thing in the world to pull him even closer.

It felt like something out of the movies Tommy loved so much, the two of them reunited and kissing in the rain. He didn't even want to come up for air, confident that he could survive without it if he could just keep kissing him forever, cradling Tommy's face in his hands and feeling Tommy's hands warm on his hips. But eventually they gave in, foreheads pressed together and breathing heavily.

"I missed you so much," he finally forced out. "I—I don't know what you want, from here, but I want—Tommy, I just want—" He broke off, nuzzled into Tommy's neck instead, breathing in the scent of his skin, his detergent and cologne.

"I want, too," Tommy agreed. "I'm so sorry—"

"Don't," Buck cut him off. "Not now. We have time for that later. All the time in the world. Let's go get dry, okay?"

"Okay," Tommy agreed, pressing one more kiss to Buck's lips. "All the time in the world."

[buckieandthebeast]

two separate posts that mention how lou makes sure he pronounces people’s names right. plus there’s this

[buckieandthebeast]

There will simply never be anything like bucktommy first kiss.