my golden crown of sorrows

Tommy's grandfather gets sick and can no longer handle owning the business and Tommy's dad doesn't want to do it either; he begrudgingly picks up the slack of work while he secretly tries to find a buyer before it's even legally his.

Tommy, all but estranged from both of them, visits his grandfather and tells him what his father is trying to do and asks him to leave the business to him (you would think he'd begged with how shameful being in his grandfather's presence makes him feel), that his father is just going to sell it or leave it to rot.

His grandfather looks him dead in the eye and says, "let him." Tommy's heart crumbles. The only time he's ever felt that same hurt--that same shame--was when his father said he'd rather Tommy be dead than be gay [not the word he used] and Tommy knows that's what his grandfather's saying even if he won't say it; he'd rather have his family's legacy crumble to dust than leave it in Tommy's hands--in the hands of a gay man.

And that's what happens.

Tommy's father can't sell it. Tommy offers to take it off his hands with what little money he has, to keep it running--anything has to be better than actively losing money on it.

His father refuses.

Eventually the place shuts down and is left to rot. His father can't even scrap it or sell the lot. But he keeps it from Tommy anyway, out of spite.

Years go by and Tommy watches it wither away.

Sometimes he'd drive out to the empty lot and sit in his truck with the windows down or sit in the truck bed and remember the good times, but as the building rusted, so did his memories of it.

That should have been enough to make Tommy just drive on by, change his route maybe, but he was a sucker for twisting the knife and he couldn't make himself stop.

His father made the decision for him. However he found out Tommy would spend time there--not hurting anything or anybody, but what did that matter to him--he'd called the cops on him one night. It was still his after all; Tommy's pretty sure his father just wanted to remind him.

Luckily the officer was a familiar face--sergeant Grant--who takes pity on him and just tells him to go home.

Years pass and suddenly Tommy has to retire from firefighting—because of injuries from the mall explosion or some other negligence—with disability pension.

It isn't long after that Tommy hears from his father and he's shocked; it was unexpected, in addition to being unwanted and unwelcome, but he answers the call anyway.

His father needs money.

Tommy laughs down the line. Very nearly hangs up on him until he realizes he finally has leverage over his old man for the first time in his life.

Tommy refuses to just give him the money, but says he will buy the drive-in for the amount his father's just asked for.

His father may be a miserable, spiteful, bigoted asshole, but he's not stupid.

It's an amount of money Tommy's comfortable parting with and now he has the thing he's always dreamed of owning and a new project to boot (there's only so many home renovations one man can stand to make without turning his home into a cold, lifeless model house).

The first thing Tommy does after he signs the deed is drive to the empty lot, park his truck, and cries. In relief. In grief—for all that he's lost or never had and never will. But there's hope in there too and a dream for what could be. What can be.

And Tommy already has plans; sketches, contacts, the means. Even when he doubted he would ever own the drive-in, at least not while his father was alive, he'd never stopped dreaming and planning.

Not too long before the last time Tommy visited the lot, it was just before sunset and he was parked in his usual spot—3 rows back, in the middle of the row (what passes for it anyway, as all the paint that once marked the parking spots has been lost to time)—when a truck pulled into the lot and parked a few spaces down from him. Tommy's whole body tensed, wondering if there was going to be trouble, but the man—probably around Tommy's age—got out of his truck, didn't approach Tommy but leaned against his own driver's side door, like he had no agenda and all the time in the world.

Tommy waited a minute, then got of out his truck too, rounding the front. Before he could figure out what to say, the man said he'd seen Tommy's truck parked here a few times and wondered if Tommy knew who owned the place. Tommy puffs up his chest, asks him who wants to know—

The man holds up his hands in a placating gesture and Tommy sees he has a small, white card in his right hand. He introduces himself as Clayton and says he owns a construction company that specializes in restorations and if Tommy happened to know the owner, maybe he could give them his card.

Tommy makes no promises but he takes the card.

He takes the card out of his wallet, now, and makes a call.

Clayton accepts the job, though he's currently working on another project, so he'll be appointing somebody else as foreman, an Evan Buckley.

Tommy's relieved that for the first few meetings, Clayton is also there—Tommy's not sure he would have been very useful otherwise. Evan is…gorgeous, built, utterly charming.

But Evan's more than just a pretty face; he's competent, he respects Tommy's vision, and cares about the job. When the official work starts, Evan doesn't mind Tommy hanging around the site and he often stays after the workday is done—going over the plans, talking about Tommy's vision for the place, Tommy telling stories about the drive-in from his childhood (though he leaves out all the bad parts and sticks to his nostalgic sugar-coated version), only parting for the night when they realize just how late it's gotten and how long it's been since they've both eaten. It isn't long, though, before they start eating dinner together—in the construction trailer—so they can keep on talking. Evan talks about his life before LA; his travels, and how most of the movies he was able to see were at drive-ins, offers some suggestions for modifications to Tommy's plans. Tommy finds that he doesn't mind.

They don't text or call unless it's about the job, but Tommy finds himself composing unrelated messages and never sending them, far too often than he'd like to admit. On a few occasions, he sees that Evan's typing too—even though he never sends them either, it makes Tommy smile.

As excited as Tommy is for the project to be complete, to have his drive-in operating, he isn't ready for his time with Evan to come to its inevitable end.

Tommy starts feeling restless around the time they're preparing to install the new movie screen. He must not hide his impatience—or surliness—as well as he'd thought because Evan practically hightails it out of there as soon as his crew leaves for the day.

Tommy retreats to the projection booth to sulk, even though he does have his own office in the same building. He doesn't know how much times has passed while he stared at his and Evan's message thread, thumbs poised over the keypad, when a knock on the booth door startles him. Tommy hadn't bothered to pull the window shade down and he sees Evan on the other side, gesturing for him to come out. As soon as Tommy opens the door, Evan asks for the key to Tommy's truck. He doesn't know what it says about him that he offers it up without question, only raised eyebrows.

Tommy follows Evan out to the parking lot, to his truck parked in its usual spot. Evan unlocks and lowers the tailgate, then goes to his jeep and takes out a picnic basket, puts it in the truck bed and climbs up. "Sure, make yourself at home," Tommy says dryly.

Evan smirks at him. "Come up here."

And what is Tommy to do but whatever Evan asks of him?

Tommy climbs into the truck bed as Evan unpacks a blanket and food—drinks and snacks too—and a portable DVD player. There are sandwiches from Tommy's favorite deli, glass bottles of a soda Tommy hasn't had since his childhood, and Red Vines. "You remembered," Tommy says, voice rough.

Evan smiles. "Of course." He starts the movie and it's one of Tommy's favorites—Pride and Prejudice. "I haven't seen this one."

It isn't until later that night, when Tommy's lying in bed unable to sleep, that he realizes Evan had been uncharacteristically quiet.

Evan's crew is officially finished at the end of April and then it's just up to Tommy finish the business end of things—marketing, hiring employees, etc.

On the last day of work, Evan stays behind again. He stands with Tommy in the parking lot, looking up at the big screen. He bumps Tommy's shoulder. "Your grandpa would be proud."

Tommy snorts. "Oh, god no, he would have hated this." The thought warms Tommy's heart. When Evan gives him a confused look, Tommy is honest about the parts he left out. Evan gets a stricken look on his face, and he's obviously floundering what to say. Tommy shakes his head. "It's okay, Evan, it was a long time ago."

Evan shakes his head. "It's not." Then he pulls Tommy in for a hug, their cheeks pressed together. "I'm proud of you, okay?" When Tommy eventually tries to pull away. Evan holds on tighter, mumbles, "I'm not done with you yet."

Tommy laughs. He's never going to be done with Evan Buckley.

Evan lingers, drags his feet but eventually leaves, urges Tommy not to be a stranger.

Tommy's miserable in May, though he can't afford to be. It's the longest he's gone without talking to Evan, but he can't seem to make himself press send.

He mails a flyer for the grand re-opening to the office for the construction team and one to his old firehouse too.

Tommy takes extra satisfaction in re-opening the drive-in on June 1st and having a whole movie line-up dedicated to Pride the whole month long (and future plans to make it a regular series).

The parking lot is packed on opening night and everything is going off without a hitch. Tommy tries and fails not to look for Evan's face in the crowd, so really it's his own fault for the bittersweet feeling he gets when he sees Evan at the concession stand, talking and laughing with a pretty brunette.

He wants to turn right back around, but he hasn't seen Evan in a month and his feet betray him, keep him rooted to the spot. Evan sees him then, gives him a look he can't decipher, and waves him over. Tommy plasters on a smile and walks over.

Evan introduces Tommy to Maddie, his sister, in a way that feels pointed but that Tommy can't parse before a familiar face joins them.

"Howie?"

Howie pulls Tommy in for a hug. "You didn't think I would miss this, did you?" Truthfully, Tommy hadn't known what to expect. They'd stayed in touch somewhat, but they hadn't actually seen each other in over a year. Apparently, Howie was dating Evan's sister—Tommy couldn't believe what a small world it was. "Hen and Karen and Bobby and Athena are here too."

After everyone gets their snacks, they head back to their cars. Evan drags Tommy along too so he can say hello to the rest of the group, with hugs and promises to stay after the movie to properly catch up.

Chimney waggles his eyebrows at Evan. An insider tipped us off to the best row."

Evan laughs. "Yeah, but I've got the best spot."

Tommy knows he's staring, but he can't help it. He can hear Hen and Karen whispering, and he has a feeling Bobby and Athena are sharing knowing glances, but his focus is narrowed to Evan as he pats the hood of his jeep—parked in the middle, 3 rows back—and says, "C'mon, I saved you a seat."

Tommy's in a daze as he gets in the jeep. Evan makes a sweeping gesture, at the dashboard and cupholders holding Tommy's favorite snacks and drinks, opens his mouth to say—something that never makes it past his lips, turned to garbled sounds when Tommy kisses him. Tommy pulls back, unsure if he should apologize or ask if it's okay—

Evan just shakes his head and says, "don't you dare," and then his hand is on the back of Tommy's neck and his lips are on Tommy's. They pull apart, but not away, heavily breathing each other's air. "Finally," Evan murmurs.

Tommy rests his forehead against Evan's, nuzzles his nose, feels Evan's smile against his. "So, that night we watched the movie…?"

Evan laughs quietly. "Yes. I mean"—he shakes his head—"probably so much earlier, but yes."

"Me too." He kisses Evan again, because he can, and ignores the cheering from the cars on either side of them. They don't stop kissing until the opening notes to "We Are Family" start playing through the radio.