🚒 DAILY KINLEY 🚁

It quickly becomes a thing. If something happens - or doesn't happen - photos go back and forth. On days with few calls, it's sleepy selfies on couches and cots. On busy days, it's selfies with soot and bruises.

A lot of the photos are slightly suggestive, but Buck writes that off as unintentional. Buck is used to taking photos of himself with the express purpose of sending them to women. Maybe Tommy is in the same boat. And really, there are only so many ways to take a photo of bruised ribs. The homoeroticism is purely accidental. Surely.

Yes, Buck pinches the photos a lot, and he flips through the photos, when he's waiting to hear back from Tommy, but that doesn't have to mean anything.

Sometimes he feels a bit giddy, before sending off a photo, and yes, sometimes he feels warm, looking at whatever Tommy sent him, but it's easy to write that off. Buck isn't seeing anyone at the moment, and everyone else in his life is busy with their own stuff. It's probably the attention. Buck likes attention and Tommy is giving it to him.

So what if the sweats sit increasingly lower on their hips and sometimes underwear isn't involved? They're home, they're comfortable.

The moment Buck runs out of excuses, is a random morning, right before the end of shift. Buck can't wait to go home. He knows Tommy is off that morning and he's not surprised at getting a text, even though it's early. He expects something snarky, and it is, but the photo attached gives him pause. It's a standard Tommy message, about how nice and warm his bed is and how well he slept, but the photo - it's tame, by their standards. It's just Tommy, in bed. The covers are covering everything. There's not even a nipple visible, yet he feels winded. You'd think there was a "wish you were here" thrown in, but there isn't.

Buck kind of wishes he was, though. It's a thought he hasn't had yet. He's been curious at times. Wondered what Tommy's muscles would feel like to touch. But the bed, that's a new one. He's seen Tommy in bed several times, but wanting to be in the bed with him?

Buck doesn't reply. It's not even the gender thing, it's about whether Tommy feels the same. Buck would feel like such a dick, if he was reading into something that wasn't there. It's a bit late in the game to question what they're doing. He probably should have done that sooner.

Buck has been awake for what feels like fifty hours, but back home, in bed, he can't sleep. The blackout curtains don't help. He turns on the light and tries to take a selfie. He angles the phone as best as he can, so he ends up with mostly bed, and just a sliver of his face in the corner. He can't think of anything to add, so he just sends the photo.

He knows he looks tired, but it doesn't hit until Tommy tells him to please, go to sleep. He checks the time and resolutely puts the phone down and out of reach.

Buck wakes up from a dream, many hours later. It's early morning and he feels a bit wild around the edges. Before he can think better of it, he arranges his duvet. He shoves it between his legs, so his dick is covered, but the long line of his leg and body is bare. He hopes it looks a little artistic, instead of tacky. The lack of underwear highlights a pretty bad tanline, but it's faded enough that it doesn't look too distracting. Hopefully.

He sends it to Tommy, without comment.

By the time Tommy gets back to him, the worst of the nervous jitters are gone. Buck is lounging on the couch, working on a shopping list. He expects a text, but Tommy is calling him.

Tommy hasn't called him before and seems equally surprised, when Buck picks up.

"What are we doing?"

Buck doesn't know how to answer that. The phone in his hand is getting sweaty. "I, uh. I'm not sure."

There's a pause on Tommy's end. There's noise in the background, so he's probably on shift. Tommy swallows audibly. "Did you mean to send that to me?"

Buck nods. "I did." His heart is racing. "Should I not have sent it?"

Tommy laughs, but there's an edge to it, like he doesn't quite know how to react. "You have great timing, I'll give you that."

"Twenty-four?"

"Yup." Tommy keeps pausing, as if waiting for the alarm to go off. It always does. "We should talk about this. What's your weekend look like?"

Buck's weekend plans are solitary, so they're flexible. Tommy suggests lunch, which is nice and neutral. Or it should be, but everything involving Tommy feels suggestive. Before they reach an agreement, the alarm goes and Tommy has to hang up. Buck is happy for it, the weekend is too many days away. Whatever this is, feels too urgent. What is he supposed to do until the weekend? Not text Tommy? Text Tommy and pretend they don't have plans?

Buck has to rein it in, before he convinces himself it's a good idea to sprint to Harbor. Tommy is at work, he won't have time to talk, but more importantly, talk about what? What does Buck want? He wants the photos to keep coming. Is that answer enough? He hasn't been with a man before. Does he want to be with Tommy like that?

He does. He really, really does, but he needs to stop thinking about it, before he shows up at Harbor unannounced.

Once the dots connect, his mouth almost waters with it. How could he have missed this? It's been there all along. That very first photo. Buck wanted it to be for him.

Buck has chores he needs to do. Unfortunately, he can't leave his phone at home. With a singleminded focus, he gets ready, and leaves the house, phone firmly in his pocket, where it will stay, come hell or high water.

Hours later, in the parking lot at the grocery store, Tommy calls him back. He apologises again and asks about lunch. Buck has had too much time to think and asks, "What's your address?" When the answer isn't instantaneous, he goes on, "I could come over tomorrow. Meet you at your place, after your shift?"

Instead of insisting on meeting over the weekend, or telling him he's crazy for suggesting that, Tommy tells him his address.

Buck barely sleeps, but it's worth it. Tommy's gets off at eight the next morning, and Buck is there to meet him, at his house. There are a few breathless seconds, where they stand next to their cars, just looking at each other. Buck has never wanted something more in his life.

They should go inside and talk about it, but instead Buck asks Tommy if he is into men. Tommy doesn't even look thrown. This thing between them has been building for months. Months of hoping every text is from Tommy. Tommy knows him. He knows how Buck talks. He knows about the tangents and the trivia and how the words don't always come out right.