#bucktommy week

[livsoulsecrets]

@bucktommyweek Prompt: Day 6 - Pride (flags)

#BUCKTOMMY: Hot to go!

Audio credit: eggaudios (tiktok)

[salty-autistic-writer]

For @bucktommyweek, June 5: "Bad Weather Days" Title: Healing Love

Summary: Or: One time Buck gets sick, one time Tommy gets sick plus one time they both get sick. (For Bucktommy / Tevan week Day: Bad Weather Days)

~

Buck doesn’t get sick often. 

Usually, his immune system shakes off any kind of bacteria or virus that tries to invade his body. But now, for the first time in years, he’s hit with a sickness like a truck. It might be the flu. Whatever it is, it seems to be the Queen bee of sickness, sending her worker-bacteria everywhere to shut down Buck’s immune system and force him to stay in bed the whole day.

It’s horrible. Ugly. Nasty. And it overwhelmed him in the middle of the night.

Buck’s nose won’t stop running. He can barely breathe. His eyes are red, swollen and itchy. There is a persistent scratching sensation in his throat that forces him to dry-cough every few seconds. His bed is surrounded by crumpled used tissues. He feels too hot in his own skin like he’s boiling from the inside.

Damnit. He can’t go anywhere like this. It’s his day off anyway. Of course, it is. But Tommy and he had a dinner night with a Star Wars marathon - and mind-blowing sex, obviously - planned, since Tommy doesn’t have to work either, which rarely ever happens. Great.

With a heavy heart, Buck pulls out his phone and writes a message to Tommy.

Sorry, we have to postpone movie night, I’m sick. 😷

Tommy answers almost immediately. How sick? 😨 You need a doctor? I can drive you.

Buck smiles through another terrible painful coughing fit. How can Tommy be that cute? He’s so … thoughtful, considerate and sweet. Buck doesn’t know how he deserved this. He’s really not that special. But Tommy looks at him like he is.

He types: Might be the flu. I think I just have to lay here and endure this.😞

Ok. I’ll come over and cuddle you.

Wait, what?! Buck hesitates, his fingers hovering above his phone. Tommy can’t mean that. Buck is one big living bacteria, coming here would surely make Tommy sick too.

But then you’ll get sick too!, he types, frowning.

I don’t care. You need endless cuddles. And tea. And food.

Buck has to bury his face in a pillow for a moment, like an embarrassed blushing teenager. 

Oh God. He is so in love, it’s ridiculous. His stomach is full of fluttering butterflies and his ears are burning and he feels dizzy in a good way. Right now, he wants nothing more but Tommy by his side, fussing over him and taking care of him, if he’s being honest.

Buck never had that. Not like this. 

He wants it. But there’s a persistent nagging voice in the back of his mind, admonishing him: Don’t be a burden, don’t ask for too much, don’t be too demanding, don’t be too much!

Buck swallows. He nervously chews on his lip and types: You’re sure???, while thinking: Please be sure …

Yeah.

Buck smiles and starts to feel a suspicious burning in his eyes. He tries to figure out how he can show Tommy through text what this means to him.  

What did I do to deserve you?🥲

Hmmmm. You booked a helicopter ride into a hurricane?

I did. Thank God, I did, Buck writes back, his heart jumping a loop in his chest.

Yes. Thank God, you did. See you soon, babe. Don’t die.

Buck’s laugh turns into a cough. I’ll try not to.  ~

Buck falls asleep while waiting for Tommy. Fortunately, they already exchanged keys. So he gets to wake up to the smell of tea and soup. And to Tommy, sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through Buck’s sweat-soaked hair. Even though Buck’s head is swimming in fever-induced fog by now, he’s so happy to see Tommy, he smiles and tries to tell Tommy, only to break into a cough again.

“Hey,” Tommy says, worry filling his eyes. He puts the back of his hand against Buck’s forehead and frowns. “You’re too hot.”

Buck groans and leans into the touch. Tommy’s hand is so cool. It’s heaven … “No,” he says, his eyes snapping open, when he feels Tommy’s touch leave. “No. Please. Don’t.”

Tommy puts his hand back. “Jesus, Evan. I think we should get you to the hospital.”

“No. No hospital,” Buck groans, putting his own hand on Tommy’s. “Please. Can’t. I’m sick of it.”

“I get that. After everything you told me, I think they might have a bed with your name on it reserved for you,” Tommy says dryly. “Ok. No hospital. For now. But if the fever rises any higher, I’m going to carry you to my car and drive you to the ER. We clear?”

“Alright,” Buck grumbles. “M fine.”

“You’re really not,” Tommy sighs. “Anyway, we should get some fluids into you, ok? You’re sweating like crazy.”

Tommy is right. And it’s gross. Buck is gross. He grimaces. “Sorry …”

“You got nothing to apologize for, kid,” Tommy says, his fingers brushing Buck’s hair back from his forehead. “Now let me get you some tea and soup, alright?” ~

“Are you not scared of getting sick?” Buck croaks, his head resting on Tommy’s chest. They’re together in Buck’s bed now, after Tommy cleaned up and fed Buck soup and made him enough Chamomile tea to last a whole day. He also got Cough syrup and lozenges. Not to forget the month’s supply of Ibuprofen.

Buck feels better already. It’s so nice to be taken care of. He could get used to this. And he slowly reaches the point where he can actually allow himself to enjoy this. It feels like Tommy's care makes the bad intrusive thoughts fade away into an inaudible static noise. Drowned out by the heart-fluttering rhythm of I'm loved.

“No, I have a pretty strong immune system,” Tommy says with a chuckle. “Also I care more about you right now. You shouldn’t be alone like this.”

Buck feels like crying again. “Thank you for being here. I … I wish I could tell you how I feel about this, but, but, but -” He sneezes violently.

Tommy laughs and hands Buck a tissue. Then gives him a kiss on his head. “I know. It’s alright, love. Just focus on getting healthy again, alright? We can talk later, after you stop exploding.”

[donovankinard]

why do stars fall out of the sky when you walk by? a fic by @thefootnotes for @bucktommyweek's gtky event

What Buck wasn’t expecting to wake up to was curtains still pulled tightly shut at half-past-eleven, the bed cool beside him and the smell of pancakes entirely absent. Tommy’s work clothes are missing from their hooks on the back of the bedroom door, the house is empty of anyone beside Evan, and the sky outside is a bitter, foreboding gray.

Or the one where Evan’s perfect morning is interrupted by Tommy’s work, and he makes the next one special instead.

T | evan buckley/tommy kinard | 1.5k gtky - prompt three, "a good morning"

read on ao3.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[aesthetictarlos]

It feels like I'm fallin' in love

@bucktommyweek prompt, day five: AU (118 Tommy)

Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Buck wakes up to a ray of sunshine hitting his face, and the first thing he realizes is that he's not laying on his very comfortable and expensive bed but on the couch instead. The second thing he notices, after he forces his eyes open and sits up, is the naked man sleeping face-down on the rug.

-

Or, the one where Buck and Tommy meet under different circumstances and go from strangers to friends (with benefits) to lovers.

Notes: for #bucktommyweek

[bucknerdycore]

Tommy's Property

Ratings: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Choose Not To Apply Archive Warnings

Relationship: Tommy/Buck

“You’re incorrigible,” Buck said, shaking his head with a smile. “Just making sure everyone knows you're taken,” Tommy replied, winning. Tommy finds himself drawn to the idea of leaving a hickey on Buck before they both head off to work. Day 7 of Bucktommy Week: Leaving a mark

Ao3

Fic for the @bucktommyweek

[kinardsevan]

BuckTommy Week, Day 2

Title: Under The Weather:

Rating: M (for suggestive language) Summary: Evan and Tommy fall ill.

[walking-in-the-sun]

excited for bucktommy week au day. I really like my concept, I wish I had the energy/cared about plot enough to write a longer version.

[sweet-sammy-kisses]

For @bucktommyweek

A late day 1: Date Night + A figure from their past Summary: Buck is late for date night with Tommy and Eddie this leads to Tommy meeting Taylor Kelly and he isn't impressed. Established Tommy/Buck/Eddie Rating: M for the last scene.

[weewoo911]

Buck taking grainy, zoomed-in pictures of every single helicopter he sees and sending them to Tommy like “dis u babe? 🥰”

[edsdiazz]

The fact that Buck has the exact same look on his face when Eddie interrupts his very first date with a man as when a whole ass Tsunami was about to hit the pier is absolutely sending me like that man is TERRIFIED help

[buckxtommy]

it's about the ✨️hands✨️

[livsoulsecrets]

Call and I’ll rush out - BuckTommy fic

@bucktommyweek Prompt: Emergency (Day 2)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Trigger Warning: Hospitals

Summary: Buck gets hurt on the job and doesn’t expect Tommy to show up for him.

He does.

“He gazed over Tommy, still in his uniform, with his sleeves rolled up and a concerned frown in place, and mused, “You’re here. You’re really here.”

“Of course I am. Where else would I be?” Tommy answered, baffled.”

Read on AO3.

Buck had been hit by many things in his lifetime. Fists, woods, roofs, a fire truck, a tsunami, and lighting. Somehow, he had expected a concrete brick not to hurt as much.

There was a fire in a residential building. Nothing too out of the ordinary, and they had been lucky that most of its residents were not home. Buck was supposed to be out of there in five minutes when one of the garage columns crumbled down.

When the structure broke completely, a fragment of the debris went flying towards him.

It wasn’t even that big of a piece—nothing close to what had fallen atop Bobby and May during the dispatch fire—but it still sent him staggering back.

It was a miracle it hadn’t plummeted him, or maybe he had just run out of bad luck.

The last thing he saw was Hen’s face above him, her hands sinking into his chest to check for injuries as horrible pain shot through him.

“Hold on, Buckaroo,” she told him, “stay awake.”

He tried, really tried, but Hen dissipated from his vision as his eyelids grew too heavy for him to keep them open.

When he woke up again, he opened his eyes to a white, sterile ceiling and the familiar feel of a hospital gown against his skin.

“Hey, Buck,” Maddie’s voice sounded very distant, even as her face came into view atop him. “It’s alright, I got you. You’re in the hospital.”

He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out. Every muscle on his body was lead, dragging him back down.

“Just rest,” she soothed him, and her voice was kind and quiet as she lured him to sleep again.

The second time he woke up, Maddie wasn’t there. He opened his eyes and found only the same white ceiling staring back at him.

He blinked and tried to call out for someone—a nurse, or one of his friends, anyone at all—because he desperately needed water to wash away the dry lump on his throat.

Before he could even try, a cold plastic cup was pressed to his hand, and he felt his neck being lifted by strong, deft fingers.

“Here, drink this,” Tommy said, “you must be thirsty.”

He stared dumbly at his boyfriend, unsure if he was real or some type of hallucination. Tommy seemed to take the hint that Buck was too dumbfounded to move any time soon and picked up the cup himself to bring it to his lips.

Buck drank the first cup, then the second and the third, until he felt the lump shrinking and then finally disappearing.

He could speak again.

He gazed over Tommy, still in his uniform, with his sleeves rolled up and a concerned frown in place, and mused, “You’re here. You’re really here.”

“Of course I am. Where else would I be?” Tommy answered, baffled.

Buck reached out to place a hand against his cheek, and his ribs protested painfully, but he took the pain in stride if it meant he could touch Tommy again.

There was a moment in there, amidst the debris and the fire, that he thought he would never get the chance to.

“Weren’t you supposed to be working today?” He asked stupidly.

It was a dumb question. Tommy was still in his pilot gear, so obviously he was supposed to be working.

Still, no admonishment came. Tommy smiled sweetly at him, the cleft on his chin more prominent than ever.

“And you were supposed to have all your ribs intact,” he pointed out, then shrugged, “but life gets in the way.”

“I’m sorry you had to miss work.”

The ‘because of me’ was implicit, and Buck truly felt bad for it.

Tommy shook his head. “You didn’t ask to be hit by a flying concrete block.”

“A small one,” Buck pointed out, trying to get his voice to stop slurring. Whatever they had given him for the pain was pretty strong, making his vision blurry at the edges.

“When my boyfriend’s best friend calls to tell me he’s in the hospital, I come—no matter how big the concrete block.”

Buck felt something warm gathering in his chest, and he was pretty sure his eyes must have been watering up with the sheer fondness of Tommy’s words.

“I meant it, Evan. I wanted to see you,” Tommy reassured him, tracing a hand through his collarbone above the bandages that covered his ribs. “Where did you think I’d be?” He asked hesitantly.

Buck would blame it all on the meds for what he said next.

“I thought you’d be gone,” he answered. “I thought you’d leave.”

Because this is the part that is scary, and when I’m vulnerable. Nothing good happens when I’m weak—nobody wants to be with me when I’m weak, is what he didn’t say.

But understanding still softened Tommy’s brow. There was a flash of kinship in his eyes when he told Buck, “It takes more than a few broken ribs to scare me away.”

“I’ve got a lot more than that in store,” he chuckled, and the pain sparkled through his torso again, a lot stronger.

“Then I guess I’ll call myself lucky that today was just a broken rib day.”

Tommy bent over to press a kiss to his forehead, then another to his cheek, and a last one against his birthmark.

Buck didn’t think anyone had ever kissed him there other than Maddie, but the gesture always brought him comfort—a sense of belonging that came from someone who knew all the things that made him who he was and still decided he was worth loving.

Buck knew he was no longer the scared child who felt like he didn’t belong to anyone other than Maddie. He was still hers—would always be hers—but he was also Bobby’s, Hen’s, Eddie’s, Chris’, and Chim’s.

Amidst the haze of the drugs and the pain, Buck realized he wouldn’t mind being Tommy’s, too.

He ought to tell Tommy that another time, when his head didn’t feel so heavy and he wasn’t drugged out of his mind.

“Stay,” Buck asked, fighting the sleep that was coming for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open as he felt his consciousness slipping into slumber.

“I will,” Tommy agreed. It sounded like a promise, and Tommy never broke his promises.

Buck slept.

[alchemistc]

Part One

The loft is sadly undecorated. He'd tried, is the thing. Gone to the same novelty store they'd found on a random walk after a date, in late September, where Tommy had spent twenty minutes worrying a foam pumpkin in his hands while Buck tried to decide what sort of decor would fit his utilitarian loft.

They'd spent so long lingering over the sculpted white candles, Buck thrilled because Tommy's straight face broke every time Buck pointed out which ones looked like incredibly expensive dildos, that he'd felt bad enough to buy a whole set of them just to appease the girl at the counter who'd been watching them with a half annoyed, half wistful expression while Buck made a comment about dragons that had had Tommy biting his lip so hard he'd actually gone red in the face trying to hold the laughter in.

But every time he'd picked up a glass tree and thought how much fun it'd be to try to make Tommy go full Tik Tok Paramedic on him, every time he'd found something soft or plush enough that Tommy wouldn't have been able to resist running his fingers over it, plucking it up to toss it between his palms - well.

It wasn't like there'd be anyone in his loft long enough to really appreciate his decorations.

"Why'd you kiss me?" he asks, rounding on Tommy as Tommy takes a tentative step towards the kitchen.

"You were being annoying." At Buck's look, he elaborates. "Force of habit."

The finger comes up without any input from Buck, his voice tipping into that same flirty, bickering rapport he'd always pushed as far as he could. "I knew you did it to shut me up."

Tommy expression shutters. He recognizes Buck's tone. A few months ago that tone would start with a round of banter that usually ended with at least one of them with their pants around their ankles.

He looks spooked. He's staring at the island stool closest to the door like he's replaying the last conversation they had here, and Buck feels all his ire rear back up.

"You promised me clarity, Tommy." It's an accusation, and they both know it, because he looks ready to fucking bolt.

Slowly, he steps in. Half a yard closer to Buck, close enough to curl his hand over the island, and Buck is struck again by how goddamn unfair it is that Tommy looks this goddamn good in a suit.

"I did."

Buck's pretty sure he has some muffins he hasn't frozen yet that wouldn't actually damage Tommy, if he threw them at him.

"Can we...?" He gestures, vague as his half a question, and Buck wants to throttle him. Or kiss him again, which is -

"I need a beer. You?"

Tommy sighs. His grip on the corner of the island makes his knuckles go white. "Evan."

"No beer, got it." He swings the door open and doesn't wait for the reaction to either his snippy little rejoinder or the stacks and stacks of baked goods filling up the shelves of his fridge. He pops the cap with his back still turned, let's the fridge door fall closed. "Not like you drove here, but sure. One of us should be sober, I guess."

The switch back to Evan doesn't do anything for him at all.

Buck leans back against the counter and tries not to think about how he'd had this half formed idea of getting a real tree this year, finding some novelty kiosk that made those hokey ornaments for people to mark the years they'd been a family. He'd thought -

Tommy blinks guiltily when Buck catches him eyeing the way he fills out his slacks, a toe to groin drift of his gaze that makes Buck ache for when he could respond to that by dropping to his knees.

"That's a lot of bread," Tommy notes, eyes focused somewhere over Buck's shoulder.

"Why'd you break up with me, Tommy?"

Tommy freezes. Shifts from foot to foot. Sighs, and takes a few steps to the fridge, swings it open to grab a beer of his own. It's still the stuff Tommy likes. Buck's not picky, really, and it'd been habit to grab the six pack he always kept for Tommy.

The last five times he'd restocked.

Tommy takes half a step back to lean against the island, just off center from Buck, so they both have to twist their necks just a little to actually look at each other.

"You terrify me," Tommy murmurs, a few swigs in, when the silence is just starting to make Buck's skin itch. "Evan, I'm not -." He grimaces, frustrated. "I'm not some Super Gay who fights for justice and equality and the ability to make horrible television with Hummel doll sopranists."

"I don't know what that means."

Tommy's smile is wry. He'd had a running list of movies Buck's never seen on a note on his phone - every time Buck missed a reference, he'd added it to the list. They'd gotten through maybe twenty before -

"I led on a good woman for years because I convinced myself I could live my life ignoring a huge piece of myself. I hurled slurs with my buddies just to make sure no one noticed me. I fed into every toxic stereotype I could just to avoid anyone realizing I wasn't one of them. I'm not - I'm not some Gold Star Gay, paragon of the community. I didn't do shit. And even when I made the decision to let myself just be who I always was, I waited until no one in my life was close enough to me to question that I hadn't always been this way. I -." He winces. Shakes his head. "I run instead of fighting. I hide every time someone tries to see me. I'm not - this comfort you're so convinced I have I took at the cost of other people who were braver and stronger than I could ever be. Do you - is that an admirable quality, to you?"

Buck wishes they'd sat, like Tommy seemed to have been hinting at. He wishes he'd spent the ride over preparing himself for this, instead of stopping himself from crawling into Tommy's lap and getting a horrible rider rating for his trouble. He wishes -

"Do you think I don't already know all those things about you?"

It's - actually, it makes him a little furious, to think that Tommy spent six months thinking he'd successfully hid all those things from Buck. And - sure, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about more than a few of those things, but like -

It wasn't like Buck didn't actively find ways to pry stories from Howie and Hen, even Bobby on occasion. It wasn't like Buck hadn't noticed the clipped way Tommy spoke of his past, his family, always tucking away more than he revealed. It wasn't like Buck wasn't well aware that Tommy Kinard had the capacity to be a total fucking asshole, if he wanted. Just because he'd kept it cool around Buck, made it just flirty enough for plausible deniability -

"You deserve better than that. Than me."

"Then be better than that, Tommy." It's not the best way to get his point across, but... "I've had multiple serious relationships, Tommy. I'm - I've been in love, before, and I've had my heart broken before, and I've had my trust broken before, and I've made people I love feel like shit. You weren't new and exciting, Tommy, we were - we were boring and domestic and it was the best six months of my life. It was what I -."

And this, of course, is where the words start to crest over, too many at once while his mouth tries to keep up and his throat is too tight to -

He swallows. Stares at his toes until his vision swims. Maybe those are tears, or maybe he's just stared long enough to go cross-eyed. His throat feels like he might be able to scrape a few words out

"I go too fast sometimes. I - I get scared I'm falling behind and so I clear a few hurdles too fast to catch back up and it -." Frustration rises through him as he remembers the way Tommy had levered himself up, spun away, broken things off without even a hint of the careful consideration Buck had grown so used to. "And you just - you tell me you want more than anything to be my last but you can't even give me the closure of a clean break! What the hell was that about?"

"Evan, I -."

"No! Okay, no. It's my turn to - it's my turn to be mad. It's my turn to - do you know how lonely I've been? How - how much I'm in my own head about where I went wrong, and what I could have done differently, and why you won't just fucking text me when you clearly want to? Do you know - do you know what it's like to think you've finally found something worth the humiliation of being known and then have it vanish in a single night? Over - you never talked to me about any of the shit you brought up that night, Tommy! You never - if you were so scared of not being enough to keep me interested, or so sure you weren't a good enough man, or so sure I couldn't possibly know what I wanted out of this, you could have saved us a hell of a lot of time and - and hurt by not being exactly the person I thought I could spend the rest of my life with! If that was all a - a smokescreen, some act, then why did you - are you actually so cruel that you convinced me we were falling in love while you had one foot out the door the whole time?"

Tommy's grip on the bottle looks painful.

"It's your turn to talk," Buck snipes, and he takes a little satisfaction in the way Tommy blanches. Just a little. Just enough to ignore how much he wants to rip Tommy's suit jacket at the straining shoulder seams and bite a bruise into that spot below his collarbone that even Tommy's undershirts hid well enough to keep the team at Harbor from putting him on blast for coming to work covered in hickeys.

"Six months with you was more devastating than two decades of hiding who I was, Evan," Tommy says, and it's a horrible opening that makes Buck feel like he's being drawn and quartered but he'd given Tommy the floor, so -

Tommy's eyes are a little too misty to call them anything but welling, and Buck hates it as much as it satisfies the pieces of himself he's spent weeks trying to pick up and glue back together.

"Evan, I lived with Abby for years and I don't think I saw her as much as I saw you. You -." He swipes a hand through his hair, and rustles one of his Superman curls loose to drape tauntingly over his forehead. Buck wants to bite him. He wants it to hurt. "You burrowed in and you just kept digging and I didn't take a second to question it until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For me to take the cowards way out and leave before it hurt."

"Maybe I should have dug further," Buck snaps, and Tommy's gaze flits to his. Holds, for the first time all night. He's breathtaking in the best and worst way possible. He's spent weeks now trying to imagine anyone else ever making him feel the way prolonged eye contact with this man makes him feel.

"You did," Tommy admits, a confession that sounds like it's been gut punched right out of him. "You still -." Another grimace, Tommy pulling back, pulling away, hiding, running, and Buck can't -

"So what is this, Tommy? Is this - are you -?" He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. Rears up, pushes off the counter, and Tommy's eyes widen like he's just now realized he doesn't have an easy exit. Buck just stands there, though. "If this is it, let this be it. If you don't want - if you're not willing to fight for this with me, tell me now. I know I'm - I know I'm a lot. I know I push for more when I'm scared. I know I'm overwhelming, and I sometimes can't stop talking to save my life, and I know I'm jealous and petty and - I know I'm not perfect."

Tommy sets his bottle on the counter beside him. Worries his lip between his teeth and rolls his jaw.

"You snore. You're a bitch sometimes and every once in a while it's not even charming. You hog all the covers and then you complain that it's too hot. You're vague about every single thing in your past that you think makes you seem like a bad person. You always think food needs more garlic and sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes when I spiral you just give me that stupid indulgent smile of yours and I know you stopped listening two reddit threads ago. When you're grumpy sometimes it takes everything in me not to pick a fight because you're such an asshole. You get cagey every time I pick at a thread you don't want to unravel and I - I hate it. I wanted a life with you and you couldn't stick around long enough to tell me why you were too afraid to go for it. So if - if you think I'm seeing you with rose colored glasses, or whatever. If you think I'm not - if you think being the first guy makes you too special for this to be real then just..." He sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose and feels the ache in his chest that's half remnants of his earlier panic attack and half fear that Tommy will actually turn and walk out at the end of this. "If you don't wanna fight for this I'll fill in the hole I dug as best I can and I'll leave you alone, okay?"

The look on Tommy's face is one he's never seen before. They've done this dance, or parts of it, at least. Tommy'd left him outside Micelli's, breathless and confused and aching, before he ever knew what it was like to hold his hand, to press his nose into the join of his neck and shoulder, to curl a hand in his hair or be filled by him - with attention, with affection, with the weight of his body and the stretch of his cock. Even then, this had felt different. Real, in a way the misty edges of his time with Abby, or the way Buck's puzzle pieces had never quite fit with Taylor's had never been. Even then, he'd just wanted so desperately to know and be known by Tommy that he'd taken his second chance and run with it.

"I don't snore," Tommy says, when the silence gets too heavy, and Buck - god, Buck has missed that tone, the snappy little tilt of his head, the blatant lie that passes over Tommy's lips so smoothly it's hard to tell sometimes that he's not being serious.

"I have audio proof," Buck says, and then doesn't immediately admit that he'd played it on a loop two nights into the breakup when he'd wrapped his entire body around the spare pillows on his bed and still hadn't been able to sleep alone in his bed.

"It bugs me that you spent days following scraps of information about a dead outlaw you convinced yourself cursed you, but you didn't even know what a Kinsey scale was."

This is - progress. This is... not Tommy bolting.

"I'm a two. If that's - is that, like, gay enough for you, or...?"

"You go too fast for me, Buckley," he says, and Buck knows that's a fucking reference to something he doesn't have context for just as well as he knows he's willing to spend the next decade waiting for the reference to pop up on Tommy's list. It's a terrifying, exhilarating thought and it's probably exactly what Tommy means.

"I can slow down," Buck says, and he tries to mean it. Nothing about how he feels about Tommy is slow.

"I don't want you to," Tommy admits, and then lets the silence stretch. They're two and a half feet away from each other and the distance feels like the farthest he's ever been from Tommy and the closest he may ever be again. "Living together, making a life together..." He swallows. "Marriage." That stops him short just long enough to recall how he'd blazed right past the I love you and straight into how he could keep Tommy. "You scare the shit out of me every goddamn minute of every goddamn day and I've never missed being terrified as much as I have since I walked out that door."

"I'm in love with you," Buck tells him, and Tommy blinks back tears. Takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That's what scares me. It's never - it's never been enough, before."

He'd sort of expected this to end with either the echo of his KitchenAid or a frantic rush up the stairs, but when Tommy meets him halfway all he does is sink his nose into the curls behind Buck's ear and breathe.

His arms drag Buck closer, his feet shuffle beneath them, his chin hooks over Buck's shoulder and he breathes, and breathes, and breathes.

---

"Your morning breath is rancid," Tommy tells him, palm centered on Buck's nose when he leans in for a kiss, pads of his fingers curled just slightly so that his hand is nearly encasing Buck's entire face. He wants to be annoyed but it's mind numbingly hot and Buck has missed it. Missed the snark, and the comfortable way Tommy will shoot him down when his head is in the clouds, and exactly how fucking large Tommy is.

"I'm so tired of avocado toast," Buck bats back, and Tommy is distracted enough by his need to make a face at that for Buck to swoop in and press a kiss to his cheek. He makes sure to make it a little wet just to watch Tommy's face crinkle in mock disgust.

He's in one of Buck's hoodies, is wearing the pair of his own sweats Buck had buried in the back of his closet in a fit of pique three days post breakup. He still looks properly debauched and Buck wants to drag him right back to bed.

Except -

"You don't have to go," Buck repeats, for the fifth time since he brought it up somewhere between peeling Tommy out of his suit pants and rolling out of bed to warm a hand towel under the sink so that Tommy could clean the cum off his abs. "But I need to shower and leave in like - twenty-seven minutes."

Tommy catches him by the waist and drags him in. "I won't be able to stay. You baked and I took as much holiday overtime as I could, but if you seriously want me there -."

"I seriously want you everywhere."

Tommy raises a brow.

"I mean that in a horny way and a codependent way."

Tommy snorts. "Good to know we're approaching this in a healthy manner."

"You told me not to slow down," Buck reminds him, and he gets a smack to his ass for his trouble.

"When Maddie pulls me aside, do you think she'll just slip me a poisoned glass of wine, or is she gonna get up on a step stool and make me stand there while she strangles me to death?"

"She won't do that." Buck leans in again, rolls a loose curl between two fingers. "She'll just stab you in the middle of the kitchen and warn my parents not to step in the blood."

"That's comforting."

Tommy takes a utilitarian shower in the downstairs bathroom and doesn't let Buck join him, and then rifles through Buck's closet until he finds all three of his button downs Buck had tucked away.

He has to borrow a pair of Buck's slacks and Buck absolutely does not mind that his ass is definitely gonna stretch them out.

With about seventy seconds to spare, Tommy presses Buck to his front door and kisses him just long enough to screw up Buck's meticulous timing - by the time he pulls back and gives Buck enough room to glance at the time on his stove, Buck knows they're gonna hit just enough red lights to make them late.

"I love you too, by the way," Tommy murmurs, and just this once, Buck decides not to be a brat about being five minutes late.

[butchdiaz]

GOOD LUCK BABE!

another one for bia @buckstommy <3 watch on yt!

[aesthetictarlos]

Don't let go, I don't want to do this alone

@bucktommyweek Prompt: Day Two: Emergency

Rating: Mature

Trigger Warning: Hospitals. Mentions of: blood, surgery, coma.

Summary:

“Hello?” Buck says into the phone, not recognising the number that popped up on his screen. “Mr. Evan Buckley? I’m calling from L.A. General,” a woman says on the other end of the line, and suddenly Buck can't breathe. “It's– It's me,” he stutters, swallowing around the lump in his throat as his palms start sweating. “Mr. Thomas Kinard has been taken here after he got injured on the job, and he's now in surgery,” he hears, and something breaks in his chest, scattering all the way down to the floor. He knows nurses and doctors are trained to make these calls, so he can't exactly tell how bad it is judging by her voice only, but if Tommy hasn't called him himself, it means it's bad. “You're his emergency contact, so you can come here and I'll make sure a doctor will give you an update. I don't have any more information, I'm sorry Mr. Buckley.” - or, the one where Tommy gets hurt on the job and Buck- deals with it.

[bucknerdycore]

Gift Box

Ratings: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship: Tommy/Buck

Buck kissed him. After a few minutes in silence, enjoying the kiss and the warmth of the moment, Tommy gently pulled away and took another object out of the box. It was an old key with a label that said "Our House." "What is this?" Buck asked, intrigued. Tommy and Buck give each other gifts on their anniversary. Day 4 of Bucktommy Week: Gift Exchange

Fic for the @bucktommyweek

Ao3