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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

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Eddie is a touchy person, and Steve knows it. Hell, he likes it because he's a touchy person, too. But when your friends are literal children, these forms of touch come out as ruffling their hair to annoy them or pats on the back. And Robin, she's great, but not too big on physical touch, especially from guys. Which is understandable really.

But Eddie... well, Steve's allowed to do whatever he wants with him. He gets to hug him, rest a hand on his back, and, shit, sometimes he even gets to hold his hand whenever they do a movie night. And yes, if there's hand-holding, there's also cuddling.

But they're both touch-starved so it doesn't really mean anything... right?

He's mainly wondering this because of their current position - cuddling on the couch face to face. Steve's hand is on Eddie's face, tracing over his cheekbones, his nose, his eyebrows, his jaw... his lips. Honestly, he feels like he's trying to memorize his face by touch, feeling out which areas are soft and which are rough with stubble.

He's never been allowed to explore this before, but Eddie lets him. Plus, he's pretty much a pile of goo under his touch - smile soft, eyes closed, and all around relaxed.

Then, Eddie's hand comes up to run through Steve's hair, and Steve closes his eyes against the touch. God, he loves when Eddie plays with his hair.

He knows that Eddie likes the same thing, but he doesn't like Steve's hand running through his curls because sometimes his fingers get caught and accidentally pull. So, Steve's hand comes up to his scalp, gently massaging and scratching the way Eddie likes.

A movie drones on behind them. Steve's not really sure when he turned completely around to face Eddie, but he doesn't mind. Sometimes this happens. Sometimes Eddie pulls him close and doesn't let him turn, telling him to focus on the movie while he runs a hand up and down his arm.

Steve really can't complain.

He leans his head forward, pressing his forehead against Eddie's, focusing on the way their breath mix together, warm and damp. Steve likes the way it ghosts over his lips.

Eddie shifts in front of him, head coming up slightly so his nose brushes against his as his breath becomes much heavier on Steve's lips. The hand in Steve's hair tugs slightly, pulling his head back so Steve's lips get that tingling sensation alerting him that there's something almost within touch that he could press against with just the slightest movement.

Steve opens his eyes, noticing how close Eddie is, eyes searching Steve's as if asking something that he can't read. But the breath between them changes, becoming more rushed - nervous.

Then, Eddie shifts again, letting their lips lightly brush in a way that could be registered as an accident. But Steve finally gets it when Eddie's eyes search his as he pulls back again.

And shit, yeah, he wants to kiss him too.

So, he shifts his left hand, bringing it out of Eddie's hair, letting it rest against the back of his neck, ready to pull him in.

"Okay, movie night is over!" Dustin yells.

Steve startles back, only being saved when Eddie's hand grabs him by the waist and pulls him in.

He reluctantly turns, noticing everyone's eyes on him - or rather, him and Eddie.

"We can handle the weird PDA, but we draw the line at making out in front of us. Jesus, you two are such a clingy couple," Dustin says, rolling his eyes.

Steve's heart thuds in his chest. "Couple?" he asks.

He feels Eddie tense against him at the question.

"Yeah, we know you've been dating for weeks now. Don't act so surprised," Max says, arms crossed next to El who mirrors the same position.

"Weeks?" Steve asks, feeling weird about the whole thing since he's literally spooned against Eddie.

"It was kind of obvious when you first started holding hands," Will pipes in.

"Plus, everyone knew about Eddie's crush on you, so it wasn't hard to put the pieces together," Mike says.

Crush?

Eddie shifts behind him, sitting up in the small space, putting distance between them. Steve turns to lie on his back, glancing at him as Eddie puts his head in his hands. "We're not dating," Eddie grumbles.

Why does the truth hurt so much?

"Really?" Lucas asks. "Because we wouldn't be against it if you were. At all."

Steve stares at Eddie whose hands flex in his hair. "Really," Steve says. He clears his throat and looks at the kids. "Why don't we finish the movie tomorrow? You all rode on your bikes here, right?"

All the kids nod, looking at each other in a mixture of disbelief and guilt. "We should go," El states. "We will see you tomorrow."

With that, all the kids rush out of the house without another word, giving the two all the space they need.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says, voice quivering a bit. "I-I should've told you. Shit, I didn't think it would get this far, and I didn't, like, try to feel you up or anything. And I got carried away earlier and forgot this is different for you than it is for me. Christ, I am so sorry, Steve."

Steve sits up and runs a hand over Eddie's back, glad that the movement has Eddie looking up at him, scared, with tears in his eye. Steve lays back and opens his arms wide. "Come here," he says.

Eddie stares at him, not moving.

Steve sighs. "This is always what we do when you're upset and that's not changing, so come here."

Eddie's tongue rests against the top of his lip for a moment before he moves to lay slightly on top of him, head resting in the crook of Steve's neck.

Steve lets his hand travel up and down his back, slightly gliding into his hair as it comes up. He thinks.

When they were first friends, Steve would mostly go for casual touches - a pat on the back, a shoulder squeeze, sometimes throwing a hug in there when he really missed him. Somewhere along the way, it became impossible to not be near him. And Steve had never felt so drawn to someone before.

He had brushed it off for a while, blaming it on him being touch starved - which he was. But usually, he resolved those feelings by having meaningless sex with some girl. Which he hasn't had since he and Eddie started becoming practically glued at the hip. God, he hasn't had any urge to even flirt with anyone really. It's like Eddie has filled all his relationship needs without Steve noticing.

Except for the kissing part. Which, now he's noticed the need for that, he can't stop thinking about it.

Shit, he really wanted to kiss him - still wants to kiss him.

Why isn't he kissing him?

Rather, why isn't he dating him?

He turns toward the mess of curly and swipes them back, trying to look at Eddie, but his face is still buried in his neck.

"Eddie," Steve says. Eddie hums against him, not lifting his head. Steve smiles. "Lift your head up a bit."

Eddie slowly shifts and rests his head in the corner of the couch away from Steve.

Steve snorts. "Lift your head up, not to the side, Eds."

Eddie reluctantly lifts his head up, looking down at Steve.

Shit, he's gorgeous. How did he not notice this before when he was literally memorizing his face? ...oh, maybe that's why he was doing that.

Steve lifts his hand up and swipes Eddie's hair to the right before cupping his face. "What if I told you that I wanted to date you?" Steve asks.

Eddie's eyes widen then shut as he shakes his head. "Don't pity me, Harrington."

"Eddie," Steve says sternly. "What if I wanted to date you?"

Eddie's eyes open and stare down at him. "Steve, you don't mean that."

Steve brings both his hands up to cup his face. "Stop arguing with me. I want to date you, and I want to kiss you, and take you on proper dates, and tell the kids how crazy I am about you to the point that they start complaining about it. Eddie, I'm sorry that it took me so long to realize, but I like you. Shit, I think we've been dating for weeks now without either of us realizing it. So, can you stop arguing with me so we can finally make this official?"

Eddie stares at him, letting his eyes flick back and forth between Steve's as if trying to figure out if he's lying. "You want to date me?" he asks.

Steve groans. "Yes, Eddie."

"Actually?" Eddie asks.

Steve carefully guides his head down to rest against his forehead. "Yes, Eddie."

"You're sure?"

Steve's hand presses into the back of his neck, so his lips brush against Eddie's. "Yes, Eddie."

Eddie sighs in relief. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Yes, Eddie."

They both move at the same time, finally relieving that tingling sensation as their lips push together.

Steve only wonders how he didn't realize he needed this sooner.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things #yes im touch starved #sue me #let them live my dreams

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chipsarchiveblog · 2 years ago

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Hey Deltarune Fandom

I know its 3am as I wright this but I think I found something online that might be important- or at least, be something to consider- food for thought and all that jazz-

you see, I was scrolling thought reddit when I came upon a particular post...

it starts of seeming very normal, right? I mean, it's just your average detarune fan asking about equipment advice, right?

but.. somethings... off, to say the least......

Not only is the wording weird when talking about Spamton, (with the phrasing of "Spamton dude" being particularly odd, as to get to Spamton's shop, you need to get fairly familiar with him and his character, but this user seems to be acting like this is their first time meeting him.) But Spamton HIMSELF seems to look... Different than usual. Or, at lease, different than his usual shop sprite that is...

and I was not alone on this sentiment, as the comments noticed too!

which leads to wonder....

... yeah, that...

To which OP provided an... Interesting answer....

D-.... Didn't have the money? But, deltarune is free game? Or, at least, Chapter's 1 and 2 are...

you see, a while back, Toby mention online that Chapters 3, 4, and 5 would all be released together, and, unlike the first two, cost money. (or as a certain salesman would phrase it, cost some [[Sweet, Sweet KROMER]]!!!)

Not only that, but its kinda ironic that this user pirated a copy of a free game, and have the one character who has a history with shady links (or in other words, [[Hyperlink Blocked]]) be the one who's changed... Almost as if this bootleg game has its own bootleg of Spamton... The one character who literally tries to be a bootleg of ANOTHER character in-universe. *Cough cough* Swatch- *Cough cough*

But this also leads to question... are there any other differences in the game? I mean, it is a pirated game, surely there has to be some other differences from the original game other than some seemingly random shop sprite of spamton, right?

luckily, I was not the only one who was curious about this and a user by the name of kuro50 ask OP to quote:

To which OP responded:

how... convenient.....

I mean- don't get me wrong- I get that feeling not having any program to record with (though than again OBS Studio exist)- but even still, all of this seems a little bit too, odd to just let off as something "normal"...

but, than again, its not like there's anything necessary wrong about it either, right? I mean, sure, it weird that someone pirated a free game, but, maybe they're just some gullible kid online?

...Except, a user by the name of ThePotatoPerson510 pointed out a few striking things...

And then... it all stared to click...

I went to check the profile and, just as ThePotatoPerson510 had said,

"u/ThatDudeTobias, Cake day December 27, 2022, made 12 hours ago..." the same hour as the spamton post was made... almost as if the account was made just so they could post this.... (Note: the previous image in this post of the spamton post says it was made 10 hours ago. This time gap is because I have been writing this post for 2 hours straight now- coming onto 3 hours- as such, I give you this screenshot showing both the post and the profile, and thus, showing they were in fact made in the same hour-)

MID WRIGHTING UPDATE: It seems as if there WAS a time gap between the two post, as its 5:24am and I just took THIS screenshot showing the time gap. Take this how you will I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, about the name... It seem kinda... on the nose, to say the least. I mean, Toby, Tobias, seems a little to similar, right? But, at the same time, knowing Toby, he would be the type to use a seemingly obvious while still not TOO obvious name to fuck with us (he DOSE have a history with being a troll when it comes to his games ¬_¬||)

Also, looking back at the spamton image and comparing it to the name "Tobias", they both share one thing in common... They're both SIMILAR to their originals, to the point where you can tell what they're based off of, but, somewhat off...

As for the one other post on the account, well...

its..

... A comment on MeIRL?

Well, what's the original post?

A..... Video of some guy walking up the stairs, only to keep looping up the same steps, unable to get to the end?

Well, that's... anticlimactic..... Sooo.... Is this just some random account then? Was all of this just for nothing? Was it all red hearings in the end? Well, that's what I thought..

For you see, I realized something....

Toby Fox is a well-known fan of anime, but, not just any anime.... specifically, JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE. How do we know this? Well, in undertale, there is an item in the game called a Punch Card

When this card is used in battle, it says, "OOOORAAAAA!!! You rip up the punch card! Your hands are burning!" This increases your attack. "ORA" Is a common phrase screamed in JOJO' when one of the Jostar's are attacking.

Not only that, but in deltarune, main antagonist of chapter 2 is Queen.

her battle theme? Attack of the Killer Queen

Killer Queen is the stand of Yoshikage Kira. The main antagonist of JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Diamond is Unbreakable. Which is the 4th Chapter of the series.

So, what dose ALL of this have to do with the video "Tobias" commented on? Well, you see, in JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Stardust Crusaders, when Polnareff, one of the main protagonist, tries to walk up the stairs to face DIO, the main antagonist, he finds himself in the same loop as the man in the video. Continuously walking up the same set of stares, unable to reach the end.

Meaning, the video that "Tobias", or, as we presume, Toby commented on was in fact...

A JOJO REFFERANCE, AND THUS, MAKES PERFICT SENCE AS TO WHY HE WOULD COMMENT ON IT

...... And so with that last tidbit out of the way, we are left with 3 conclusions that we can come to... 1. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox teasing us about Chapter 3 and or some other upcoming scheme of his he has up his sleaves.

2. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox just fucking with us

and 3. This is some third party not affiliated with Toby but still making something and teasing it (possibly and ARG or something of sorts) .... That or I've just spent over 3 hours of my life typing this up only for it to be a shitpost by Temmie or something :/

either way its 6:41am as I type this and I have not slept all night so I hope you liked this deep dive analysis into this possibly important reddit account that could hold significant lore for the upcoming chapters of deltarune and if you'll excuse me I'm going to go collapse on my couch for the rest of the day :) have a wonderful time zone <3

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a-deep-ocean-of-secrets · 5 months ago

Text

Home Is Where I Want to Be (But I Guess I'm Already There)

Summary:

The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.

Read below or on AO3 (3.8k words)

The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.

Those first few giddy weeks and months (like bubbly champagne buzzing through his veins every time he saw Tommy’s smile, kissed Tommy’s full lips, found himself tangled in Tommy’s bed sheets) of staying over in his boyfriend's cozy, Venice bungalow have him living almost exclusively out of his trusty duffle bag. Which isn't a big deal. He's used to lugging that ratty thing back and forth from the firehouse to his apartment.

Can it be annoying sometimes? Sure. His clothes are constantly wrinkled (which majorly sucks when he's trying to dress to impress on date nights) and he's always forgetting or running out of one toiletry or another. If it’s not his deodorant then it’s his mouthwash. If it’s not his aftershave then it’s his moisturizer. Minor inconveniences, really, but worth it every time to wake up in Tommy's king-sized bed with Tommy's strong arms wrapped around him and Tommy's hot breath on the back of his neck.

It doesn't take long for that to change. Like a seed beginning to take root, Tommy, as he’s done since the very beginning, makes room for Buck in his life. Just as he opened his helicopter to Buck and his friends and flew them headfirst into a raging hurricane on nothing more than an outlandish hunch. The same way he took time out of his busy schedule to grant Buck a private tour of Harbor Station and answered all his jumbled questions as Buck nipped at his heels like an overeager golden retriever, tail wagging a mile a minute, wanting nothing more than to be closerclosercloser to the cool guy with a megawatt grin, who called him ‘Evan’ and had his heart skipping a beat even if he couldn’t identify the why of it all at the time.

So it’s not a surprise at all when he carves out precious space in his closet and lets Buck's colorful and patterned button-ups and polos blend in with Tommy's neutral henleys and shackets. They’re two big guys with a penchant for working out, so their wide array of tank tops, sweatpants, and basketball shorts become indistinguishable from each other. Their LAFD-issued shirts are so interwoven that they've given up trying to tell them apart and frequently go to work wearing the other's name branded on their backs, much to their coworkers’ loud and endless amusement.

Buck’s grapefruit shampoo and citrus body wash relocate to the shower niche alongside Tommy's own sandalwood and frankincense-scented products. On the vanity, Buck's red toothbrush is a companion to Tommy's green one.

All these minute modifications to Tommy’s home are simple and understandable ripple effects of Buck regularly spending a few nights a week there.

The offshoots of that single seed deepen into winding vines without Buck even noticing.

First, it's Buck's lucky set of boxing gloves hanging innocently alongside Tommy's Muay Thai gear in the garage. After a frustrating and tedious shift, he enjoys nothing more than a few vigorous rounds with Tommy’s punching bag. Then, Buck's large and varied assortment of books (ranging from biographies on famous figures such as Marie Curie to The Book of 10,000 Incredible Facts to the new YA fantasy series that is all the rage among Christopher and his friends) slowly but steadily find a home among Tommy's WWI & II aviation history collection on the shelves of the reclaimed redwood bookcase Tommy crafted by hand.

His favorite cast iron skillet and Instant Pot take up permanent residence in Tommy's kitchen, alongside his garlic press and waffle maker. His 'Buck Off' coffee mug (a gag gift from the 118) is always ready to go for lavender and daffodil-colored mornings spent on Tommy's front porch overlooking the canal as kayaks and paddle boards drift by in the early morning light. The sinfully soft, ocean blue afghan Carla knitted for him during the pandemic is draped over the back of Tommy's unfairly comfortable sectional. Christopher’s US History textbook is lying open on the coffee table, left behind after a pizza and study session. The newest season of The Bachelor (the combined forces of Maddie, Chimney, and Josh got him hooked. What can he say? He loves love.) is TiVoed on Tommy's flatscreen TV. His Jeep has its own designated spot next to Tommy's ’71 Bronco.

The roots of their budding relationship grow deeper and extend farther than the eye can see.

Buck's most cherished brand of coffee is readily available in the kitchen cabinets. His all-time favorite blend just so happens to be named The Beast. A fun fact that never fails to stop him from leering at Tommy and waggling his eyebrows every time he brews a cup. His favorite cereal is stocked in the cupboards and his favorite yogurt is in the fridge. The same fridge that is currently plastered with Jee-Yun's vibrant crayon drawings alongside pictures of Tommy’s nieces and nephews in Chicago. A true collage of sparkly princesses and menacing dragons beside Polaroids of beaming faces on the sandy shore of Lake Michigan and sitting in the stands of Wrigley Field with messy hotdogs and giant foam fingers.

Even food Tommy turns his perfect, aquiline nose up to but Buck loves (like quinoa and chirimoya) are now staples in his pantry. His most treasured cookbook, battered with stained, dog-eared pages with the margins filled in with his own corrections in his scratchy scrawl, holds a place of honor on Tommy's countertop on a wooden stand Tommy scrounged up at the local flea market.

He has to rack his brain to remember the last time he spent a night at the loft. The last time he had been there, to pick up some clothes from his rapidly depleting wardrobe, it had looked even emptier and barer than usual with hardly any food in the fridge, the bed sheets stale and unloved, and a thin layer of dust on his kitchen island. The industrial, modern space had felt cold and clinical and nothing like a living, breathing home.

It lacked the wooden floors Tommy had spent weeks refinishing as he lovingly sought out the perfect stain. It lacked the extra-long, extra-wide hammock hanging off Tommy’s back patio where Buck delighted in taking the occasional catnap on sunny afternoons. The loft hadn't inspired even a fraction of the warmth that Tommy's home did every time he walked through the door with the key Tommy had given him three months in, dangling from a helicopter keychain that made him grin like a dope whenever he pulled it free from his pocket.

Buck doesn't realize any of these very important and essential truths until one morning when he nearly trips over his running shoe that was lying discarded by the front door. At the sound of his clumsy stumble, Baron, Tommy's five-year-old Shepkita ("That's not a word, Evan. He's an Akita Shepherd.”), raises his head from where he's lounging on his overstuffed dog bed, exhausted from their early morning run at the beach.

At the sight of Buck being Buck, Baron lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and puts his head back down to resume his beauty sleep. Kicking the offending sneaker out of the way, Buck stops dead center in the living room, hands on his hips and wearing Tommy’s faded USC sweater that’s been worn soft from years of washings and smells tantalizingly of Tommy’s laundry detergent, and can't help but survey the terrain and take stock of how much of himself is residing in Tommy's space. He's visible in every nook and cranny.

He has completely, and totally, infiltrated Tommy's home.

The thought instantly fills him with indescribable joy that blossoms like radiant sunflowers inside his chest. For all of ten seconds. He then remembers the last time he unknowingly moved in with someone and the heartbreaking consequences of it.

Abby.

She had been so terribly sad and broken in the wake of her mother's death. It had been as easy as breathing for Buck to step up, to prove himself, to try and do everything in his power to fix her with his love and devotion. So he stayed with her day and night, and his things had steadily trickled into her apartment. It had been easier back then to do, he had had so little to his name other than the Jeep and his clothes. And he can't lie, it was a relief to get out of that glorified frat house filled with Connor and the others.

It had seemed natural to move in with Abby (even if she had been unaware of it). He thought they were building something special together, something made to last. He hadn't known at the time that while he saw a new beginning, she saw entrapment. For her, she would be trading one role of caretaker for another. Going from a sick mother to a young punk (at 26, he had still been a kid) who was stumbling like a newborn giraffe through his first serious relationship. Had she stayed, there would have been so much handholding on her part as he continued to figure out all the volatile nuances of life and commitment. And that hadn't been fair of him to ask that of her when she was so vulnerable, he understands that now with valuable time and distance. She had been so lost that the only thing she could do to find herself again was travel halfway across the world and leave him behind in the process.

He had lived (however briefly) with Abby. He was living with Tommy, even if he hadn't clocked it until just now.

And he wants it, he realizes with a jolt not unlike the bolt of lightning that had struck him. He wants to live with Tommy. He wants to wake up with him every morning and come home to him every night (demanding schedules permitting, of course). He wants their high-energy workout sessions that always turn into a different kind of workout and their sunset strolls through the canals with an enthusiastic Baron (complete with goofy selfies in front of David Hasselhoff’s house from Baywatch). He wants their weekends at the Venice Farmers' Market. He wants their monthly meetings of the LGBTIQA+ book club that Hen and Karen started and that Tommy and Buck have hosted twice now inside this very house.

He wants Tommy. Plain and simple. He always wants Tommy. Tommy, who has the world’s worst fake mouth static, but jokingly brags all the same about winning a medal for it. Tommy, who acts big and tough on the job and up in the air, but he never fails to shed a tear whenever they watch the climax of a romantic comedy. Tommy, who always has a heating pad and massage waiting on standby for rainy days when the pain in Buck’s bum leg flares up like relentless flames.

Tommy, who has no idea that they're living together.

An icy sliver of fear sluices down his back at the terrifying thought that once Tommy learns they're essentially playing house with each other he might turn tail and run away, just like Abby did. Or, perhaps, even worse, he won't run, but he won't want Buck here anymore either. He can already see it in crystal clear HD: Tommy's handsome face shuttering to stone as it does when he's uncomfortable but doesn’t want to show it. His blue eyes darting away and his lips thinning into a brittle line as he tells Buck that this is all moving far too fast, that maybe they should take a step back and put some space between them, and then Buck will be banished back to his sad, pathetic loft that doesn't have Tommy waiting for him in it.

He cuts the catastrophizing off at the knees before it can spiral into something far more treacherous. Tommy, for all his flaws — he drinks orange juice straight from the carton like a Neanderthal and he doggedly believes that his directions are better than the GPS ("I spend most of my time in the air, Evan. I know all the shortcuts throughout Los Angeles County.") — isn't the kind of man who runs away from a fight when the going gets tough. He's the kind of man who digs his heels in and comes out swinging the next round. And he's been nothing but kind to Buck the entire time they've known each other. He enforces tough love when he deems fit, but it always comes from a place of kindness and gentleness.

They love each other. And they live together. It's time Tommy knows it.

So, screwing his courage to the sticking place (Jee-Yun loves Beauty and the Beast), Buck shuffles his way into the kitchen where his boyfriend is manning the stove and making their breakfast. In the oven, a frittata bakes away in Buck’s cast iron skillet and on the stovetop, turkey bacon sizzles as it fries. Tommy, hair curly and wet from his earlier shower, flips crispy pieces while humming along to The National playing softly in the background on the radio.

God, Buck adores this man with everything in him.

Tommy catches him out of the corner of his eye hovering there like a massive dweeb and flashes a dazzling smile his way.

“Hey, babe. What was that noise I heard?”

He can feel an embarrassed blush rapidly bloom across his cheeks until his face is as pink and splotchy as his birthmark. “Oh. That was just me. I, uh, tripped over my running shoe,” he lamely explains.

“They can be quite the menace,” Tommy says with his usual brand of wry humor. He chuckles quietly to himself as he turns his attention back to the mouthwatering bacon. For a tempting moment, Buck just wants to forget the stunning revelation he’s had and instead stay in this blissful, domestic bubble that seems to exist whenever the two of them are alone together. It doesn’t matter where they are or what they’re doing, there’s just an undeniable ease to the two of them existing in the same space, breathing the same air, hearts beating in tandem.

But, alas, he’s a man on a mission.

Reaching up and rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, Buck thinks through his options. He’s come to learn, through many a messy trial and error, that honestly truly is the best policy. The last time he had so thoroughly ignored the elephant in the room was when he had asked Taylor to move in with him for all the wrong reasons.

That had been a train wreck of epic proportions, even for him. He had well and truly bucked that situation up beyond repair.

But that was then and this was now. And the only things Tommy and Taylor had in common were their initials and their partiality to cruising around LA in helicopters. His feelings for them were night and day as well. He had loved Taylor, but by the exhausting end of their relationship, he hadn’t genuinely liked her anymore as a person. They were too different, their morals too misaligned to exist harmoniously together. It isn’t like that with Tommy. He both loves and likes practically everything about his fellow firefighter, even the traits and bad habits that annoy the ever-living shit out of him.

“So, hey, I, uh, kinda just realized something…pretty important.”

Smooth start. And to think, before he met Tommy he had honestly had game. But something about the self-assured pilot, from the moment they met on the tarmac at Harbor and he introduced himself as Evan instead of his standard Buck, had him tripping over his tongue in both the best and worst ways. His foot-in-mouth syndrome had ruined their first date and nearly all chances he had had with Tommy, but it was that same unfiltered nature of his that had Tommy granting him another shot and scoring him as his plus one to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding that never was.

Which reminds him: he owes Tommy a dance. He files that tidbit into his mental to-do list for another day.

Tommy looks at him with a quizzical raise of his brow as he lazily twirls the spatula in his hand. “What? Found some more facts about that jellyfish? What’s it called? The spotted—“

“Chriodectes maculatus,” Buck corrects automatically. “Or more commonly known as the spotted box jellyfish. Only the rarest jellyfish in the world, I might add.”

The corner of Tommy’s lush lips curl up into a fond half-smile. “Yeah, that’s the one. I thought you exhausted all knowledge on it last night when we watched that documentary.”

“In the words of Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zhou, ‘Life is finite, while knowledge is infinite.’ So, no, I’ll never know enough about jellyfish, rare or otherwise, to exhaust myself, Thomas.”

Tommy mouths ‘Thomas’ to himself and looks to be gearing up a quippy retort of his own when Buck realizes with tightening dread that he’s on the road to derailing this potentially monumental conversation with talk of jellyfish, of all things. Honestly, he can’t even believe himself half the time.

Time to pivot.

“Forget about the jellyfish. They’re not important right now.”

Swiveling his broad-shouldered body, Tommy gives him his full attention as his eagle-eyed gaze slowly sweeps over the entirety of Buck’s 6’2” frame. Buck, for his part, staunchly fights the urge to fidget as he knows it would give him away in an instant. There’s something almost surgical in the way that Tommy, without ever saying a word, can expertly peel back all the layers of bone and marrow of Buck’s psyche down to his bleeding center where his festering insecurities and crippling self-doubt reside.

If it were anyone else it’d feel violently invasive. But Tommy has only ever treated these undesirable parts of him with the tenderest of care, delicately stitching up invisible wounds Buck hadn’t even known existed until the moment Tommy kissed him in his kitchen and completely shook the bedrock of all his pre-conceived notions about himself.

“Sounds serious,” he says after a moment of contemplative silence. The only sound in the kitchen is the hiss of the bacon roasting away on the stove. Through the window over the sink, a beam of sunlight shines in and bathes Tommy in its golden rays.

Buck heavily exhales a breath out between his teeth. “It is. Or, it could be. Maybe. It really depends on how you look at it, I guess.”

“Look at what?” Tommy asks, even-keeled as ever. It’d be infuriating if it wasn’t such a damn turn-on.

It’s now or never.

“Look at the fact that… We kinda, almost…sorta, seem to be living with each other?”

Tommy freezes to the spot, his eyes going wide as he blinks, coming off as a perturbed owl for a moment before he schools his features back into his usual calm facade. He looks back down at the bacon and quickly flips some pieces before they can turn into a charred mess of meat.

Composure regained, he asks, “Was that a question or a statement?”

He’s always lightning-quick to toss the proverbial ball back into Buck’s court. Always willing to let him take the lead in their relationship and set the parameters and boundaries. Without fail, where Buck goes Tommy follows. It had been a sweet relief in the early days of their relationship when Buck was stumbling around blind, but nine months in and Buck needs Tommy on equal footing with him. It’s the only way forward.

“It’s, uh, a statement.” Damn. That didn’t sound convincing at all. Closing his eyes and centering himself the way Dr. Copeland taught him, he slowly takes a deep breath, and then another, and then one more for good measure, opens his eyes, and looks Tommy square in the eye. “It’s a statement. We’re, for all intents and purposes, living together. And I want, no, I need to know what you think about…that.”

Tommy’s gaze slides away and catches sight of Buck’s mug already topped off with his second cup of coffee for the day as swirling mist rises off of it. He sees Buck’s LAFD hoodie hanging off the back of one of the stools situated at the island. He spots Jee-Yun’s drawings on the fridge, giving the stainless steel appliance so much color and joy. He spies the Fokker Dr. I triplane chew toy Buck specialty ordered for Baron lying on the floor near the dining table.

Tommy’s home hasn’t just been Tommy’s home in quite some time.

He spots every single change that Buck has brought into his house with his very presence, and he gathers them to him like they’re the most precious of jewels. He turns to Buck and smiles at him.

It nearly stops Buck’s heart for a moment.

He loves all of Tommy’s smiles. He loves his smirk when he’s said something particularly snarky or deadpan. He loves the closed-mouth grin he does when Buck is batting his eyes and pouting and Tommy is steadfastly pretending he isn’t endeared by the silliness. He loves the smug curve of his lips when Tommy moves just right inside of him, hitting that elusive, perfect spot that has him seeing stars and clutching Tommy tighter to him until he can’t tell one limb from another.

But this, this is his favorite Tommy smile by a far-flung mile.

It is simply radiant. His smile is wide and open, with his straight, white teeth brilliantly on display. It stretches broadly across his rugged face, exposing his deep-set dimples on either side of his ample mouth. His nose adorably scrunches and his eyes are squinty with unbridled happiness. At the corners of his eyes, his crow’s feet spread like tiny estuaries spooling into the grooves of his tan skin.

He looks boyish and carefree. And so very in love.

All because of Buck. He was the cause of such boundless euphoria. No one has ever loved him the way Tommy unashamedly does.

“What I think is,” Tommy says clearly and concisely, “I think we should make it official. What do you say, Evan? Will you move in with me?”

Buck feels like he was socked in the gut, but only in the very best of ways. His breath is stolen from his body and he doesn’t even know if his feet are still on the ground or if he’s simply floated away with how incandescently lighthearted he feels at this very moment.

“Y-You really mean that? You want to live together?”

It never hurts to double-check. He does that every time with his faithful clipboard. It is truly the only way to be efficient.

Tommy’s smile only widens further. “Evan. You’re my favorite person in the world. Of course, I want to live with you.”

The sunflowers inside Buck’s chest come to full bloom.

He and Tommy live together.