#but i have had this idea of buck and tommy cuddling after the hospital kiss for a long time and wanted to try it

[trashremover43]

@bucktommyfluffebruary

non sexual intimacy/ falling asleep/ waking up together for the first time

Unspoken, Unbreakable

The night air was cool, slipping through the cracked window of buck’s truck as they drove away from the hospital. Buck was slouched in the passenger seat, eyes half-lidded but refusing to let exhaustion win just yet. His body ached from the day’s events—searching for Chimney, the panic, the adrenaline crash, and then the sheer relief of seeing him safe and getting married in that tiny hospital room.

But none of it compared to the relief of seeing Tommy step through those hospital doors.

Even now, Buck couldn’t stop himself from glancing at him, the image seared into his brain—Tommy still in his turnout gear, his face streaked with soot, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. And yet, he had still come. He had kept his promise.

"You're staring," Tommy said without taking his eyes off the road. His voice was hoarse, tired, but laced with that dry amusement Buck had come to love.

"I'm appreciating."

Tommy huffed a laugh, shaking his head slightly. "That what we're calling it?"

"Uh-huh. It’s what we’re calling the fact that I missed you today," Buck said, shifting slightly to face him better. "We barely talked. Do you know how weird that was?"

Tommy exhaled through his nose, his grip tightening on the wheel. "Yeah. I noticed."

There it was—that quiet confession, the way Tommy always let his guard down just enough when it was Buck. Buck smiled, reaching over to squeeze Tommy’s forearm.

"You should stay over tonight."

Tommy’s eyes flicked toward him, his lips pressing together in thought. "Evan—"

Buck shivered. That name. The way Tommy said it, soft but firm, never laced with disappointment or indifference like his parents’ voices had been.

"You’re exhausted," Tommy continued, as if he weren’t just as bad off. "You should sleep."

"Yeah, and I’d sleep better if you were there," Buck shot back without thinking. Tommy’s fingers flexed on the wheel, and Buck felt the shift in the air between them. "C’mon, you missed me too. I know you did."

Tommy sighed, shaking his head again, but there was a small, fond smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. I did."

Buck beamed. "So, you’ll stay?"

Tommy glanced at him again, taking in Buck’s hopeful expression, and then let out a quiet chuckle. "Fine. But I’m picking the pizza toppings."

"Absolutely not."

"Then I’m going home."

Buck gasped dramatically. "You wouldn’t!"

Tommy smirked. "You wanna test that theory?"

"Ugh. Fine. You can pick half the toppings. But if you try putting pineapple on there, I’m breaking up with you."

Tommy barked out a real laugh at that, and Buck felt it settle deep in his chest, warm and steady.

Yeah. This was safety.

__

The pizza had arrived at the same time they did, and after a quick, exhausted argument about whether or not Tommy’s ridiculous topping choices made it inedible (they didn’t, but Buck refused to admit it), they decided that food could wait until they weren’t covered in sweat, soot, and hospital air.

Buck’s loft had only one bathroom, which usually wasn’t an issue—except now, neither of them had the patience to wait for the other to finish.

"Shower together?" Buck suggested before he could overthink it.

Tommy arched an eyebrow.

"For efficiency!" Buck rushed to add, his face heating.

Tommy’s lips twitched, but he nodded. "Alright."

And suddenly, Buck was nervous.

They had kissed, had held each other, had touched in ways that left his skin buzzing. But this—this was different. This was uncharted territory, seeing each other bare in a way that wasn’t just about skin.

When they stepped under the warm spray, Buck could barely breathe. Tommy was breathtaking, his body honed from years of discipline, muscles flexing as he ran a hand through his wet hair. But it wasn’t just that—it was the intimacy of it, the quiet way Tommy reached for the soap and, without hesitation, started washing Buck’s shoulders, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Buck swallowed hard.

"You don’t have to—"

"Let me," Tommy murmured, voice quiet, almost reverent.

Buck exhaled shakily, nodding. He let Tommy move slowly, trailing over his arms, his back, tracing over old scars like he was memorizing them. Buck did the same in return, washing away the day’s exhaustion, his fingers lingering on the dips and ridges of Tommy’s body, over the curve of his jaw, the line of his spine.

When their eyes met, the air shifted again.

Neither of them moved for a moment, water streaming over their skin, steam curling around them. Then, Buck reached up, cradling Tommy’s face, and pressed their lips together.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, deep, a kiss that spoke of something more than need. Something permanent.

When they pulled apart, Tommy exhaled against Buck’s lips, pressing their foreheads together.

"Yeah," he whispered, almost to himself. "I missed you today."

Buck’s heart clenched in the best way.

---

They didn’t bother with shirts after the shower—partly because Tommy wouldn’t fit into any of Buck’s, and definitely not because Buck wanted an excuse to ogle him. Not at all.

They ate their pizza like an old married couple, bickering about toppings and recounting their separate days, filling in the gaps they hadn’t been able to share in real time.

And then, finally, they crawled into bed.

Buck exhaled as he pressed close to Tommy, resting his head against his chest. Tommy’s arms came around him easily, pulling him in, warm and solid and grounding.

For the first time in a long time, Buck felt safe.

He trailed his fingers absently up and down Tommy’s stomach, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath.

"I could get used to this," he murmured.

Tommy pressed a kiss to his temple. "Yeah."

Sleep pulled at Buck almost instantly, but before he drifted off, he felt Tommy squeeze him just a little tighter.

---

Tommy woke first.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting golden light over Buck’s sleeping face, his features relaxed, his lips slightly parted.

Tommy just looked at him for a long time.

There was poetry in Buck’s existence, in the way he lived so fully, in the way he loved without hesitation.

Tommy had never believed in fate, but if anything in this world was meant to be, it was this.

Buck stirred, his lashes fluttering before his blue eyes met Tommy’s. He smiled sleepily.

"Morning, beautiful," Tommy murmured.

Buck’s smile widened, stretching into something radiant. "Morning, handsome."

And just like that, the world felt right.