Voltage

A few weeks later, he's looking for a birthday present for Ravi and so he pulls up Ravi's contact to look at his notes (Buck has notes for most of his contacts to remind him of their likes and dislikes and whatever other trivia he finds fascinating about them) and he'd noted that Ravi is into Dungeons & Dragons.

He goes back to the game store, on a mission this time, and peruses the aisles until Tommy is done with his current customer.

Tommy looks up when Buck approaches the counter. "Hi."

Buck gets distracted by the way Tommy's eye crinkle when he smiles that he nearly forgets to say it back. He clears his throat. "Uh, hi."

Tommy's smile softens then, which only accentuates the smile lines around his mouth. "Something I can help you find?"

"Uh yeah—yes. I'm looking, for a friend—"

Tommy's eyebrows shoot up.

Buck shakes his head and laughs. "I have a friend—I need to get them a birthday gift. He likes DnD?" He swears he knows how to have a conversation, but something about Tommy has thrown him off-kilter. Tommy at least doesn't seem put off by Buck's social ineptitude, or if he is he doesn't show it.

Tommy slowly nods. "Well, dice is always a safe bet." He gestures at the glass case that sits under the counter, full of dice of all shapes and sizes and colors. 

Buck steps closer to look and wow—Tommy's eyes are really blue this close up. He quickly looks away, before he's caught or does something insane like tell Tommy his eyes are pretty or ask if there are any dice in his shade of blue. "Oh, wow. I don't even know where to start."

Tommy patiently explains the different dice to Buck. "We do custom orders as well, with enough notice, if that's something you're interested in." He shows Buck an album with pictures of some of the custom orders they've done.

"So, you made these?"

"Yeah," Tommy says, obviously proud of his work which he should be. 

"No way, that's so cool. I wouldn't even know what to get—hey, do you have any with flames?"

"Yeah, we've got a few." 

He looks back up at Tommy and apparently loses any ability he ever had to be cool when he says, "do you have sex dice?"

Tommy's eyebrows raise and his lips part.

"Not for my friend, for me—" Buck says, like that's somehow better.

Tommy blinks. "Sex dice?"

"Yeah, you know, the ones that say stuff like suck—"

Tommy snorts. "I know what they are—”

Buck flushes. "Oh."

"And no, we don't." Tommy's smile is amused. "It's not that kind of game shop."

He ducks his head and laughs. "Right. Well"—he points to a fire engine red set with flames—"I'll just take those then."

Tommy rings him up and tells Buck he'll see him next time and Buck leaves with Ravi's present secured and at least some of his dignity intact.

Over the next couple months, Buck finds more excuses to visit Tommy's store: more birthdays, buying games for the firehouse, his jeep needs work again.

In between helping other customers, Tommy entertains Buck's questions and info dumps. Buck talks about firefighting and Tommy talks about his love of games.

Buck makes Tommy laugh and it feels even better than he imagined. 

One day in June, Buck goes to see Tommy without any pretense at all. It's quiet in the store—though he knows better than to say so—it's just him and Tommy, from the looks of it.

He walks to the counter and greets Tommy, who pushes a blank piece of paper and a pen towards him. 

"So, about those dice you asked for. If you tell me what you want, I can make them for you."

Buck's brow furrows as he tries to remember when he'd—oh. He'd forgotten and he wishes Tommy had too, though he supposes it was probably a pretty memorable experience. There's nothing teasing about Tommy's tone, only sincerity, and even if Buck never ends up using them, he doesn't want to turn down Tommy's offer. He taps the pen against the blank paper, suddenly forgetting any sex he's ever had or wanted to have. "I don't know—what do you think?"

Tommy raises an eyebrow. "You want me to tell you what should be on your sex dice?"

"I've never had them before, I don't know. Here"—he pulls his phone from his pocket and sets it on the counter—"I'll just look it up." Only, when he types sex into the search engine, his last search pops up. "Oh, um—"

"You know," Tommy says, voice low and deceptively casual, "if you want to know about sex with another man, I'm a lot more reliable than Google."

Buck's whole body flushes and he wishes for the earth to open up and swallow him, but he's not that lucky. "Oh, you…you're—"

Tommy chuckles. "Yes, Evan, I'm gay."

Buck nods. "That's good—uh, good to know."

Tommy hums. "Tell you what"—he grabs a business card from the holder atop the counter—"when you know what you want, send me the list." He hands Buck the card, a number scribbled on it in black ink.

"This is your personal number?"

"Yeah, in case I'm not the one here when you call. I don't think Lucy would appreciate it." Tommy's gaze sweeps over Buck, appraising him. "I mean, you're definitely her type, but I think she'd at least want you to buy her dinner first."

Buck tilts his head. "And what about you—"

The bell above the shop's door jingles as two customers walk in. 

A small smile curves one corner of Tommy's lips. "Let me know when you figure it out." 

"O-okay."

"I'll see you around, Evan." He raps his knuckles on the counter, then walks around it to greet the other customers.

Buck doesn't figure it out that day or the next.

The rest of June passes without another visit to the store; without calling or texting Tommy.

Buck stops in the store the first week of July. Tommy's at the counter ringing up a customer, but he looks up when Buck walks through the door. They exchange polite smiles and waves.

It's only been a month since Buck's seen him, so of course he hasn't changed.

But Buck has.

At least, he feels like he has.

He walks up to the counter. Tries to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans.

Tommy eyes him, almost wearily if Buck's not reading into things. "I never heard from you."

Buck rubs the back of his neck. "Ah, yeah"—he'd rehearsed this moment, but he still stutters when he says"—I, uh, found this kit online to make dice? It took a few tries, but I think I actually did a pretty good job." He pulls the dice from his hoodie pocket and sets them on the counter.

Tommy doesn't bother looking. His lips flatten into a straight line. "Ah. I guess you're all set then—you've got everything you need?" 

Buck can't make his tongue work, can't shape his mouth around the right words—isn't even sure what the right words are now, this isn't at all what he'd rehearsed. 

Tommy walks away from the counter, towards the back room before Buck can even ask what just happened. 

A minute later, a blonde woman walks out of the back room. "Anything you need help with?"

Buck's brow furrows. "I guess not. You must be Lucy?"

"Guilty. And you must be Evan."

"Oh, uh yeah—most people call me Buck."

Lucy raises an eyebrow. "Most people, huh?" She cuts a glance at the back room. When Buck picks the dice up, she notices. "What ya got there?"

"Oh, uh, just some dice I made—"

"No kidding."

"For Tommy."

Lucy gives him a pitying look. "Do you want me to give them to him?"

Buck sighs. "Might as well. I don't have any use for them." He sets them back down and without overthinking it, grabs a business card, writes his phone number on the back of it, and slides it under the dice. "Thanks, Lucy. It was nice meeting you."

"You too, Buck."

When the bell over the door stops jingling, Lucy yells, "you can come out now, you big coward."

Tommy slinks out of the back room. "I can fire you, you know."

Lucy sticks her tongue out. "Your life would suck without me, Kinard."

He purses his lips. "What did you and Evan talk about?"

"Evan? Oh, you mean your lover boy?" She grins. "He left you a present."

Tommy rolls his eyes, but he accepts the proffered dice anyway. It's not what he expected. "Oh." He turns one of the six-sided die over and over, one word etched into each side. "Am I crazy or does this say will you go out with me?"

Lucy snatches the die and looks it over. "Oh, Tommy. It's obviously go out with me you will." 

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose. "I hate you."

"Oh, c'mon, that was a great impression."

"That—I don't even know what that was."

Lucy laughs. "Oh, he also left this." She hands Tommy the business card. "So…"

"So, what?"

"Will you go out with him?"

It's been a while since Buck's been on a first date. It's been even longer since he'd felt as nervous as he had about a date. He'd been worried he wouldn't know how to be on a date with a man, but he really hadn't needed to worry, this was Tommy after all.

Talking to Tommy is still easy, comfortable; they still make each other laugh. 

Only now, they let their gazes and touches linger. Now, Buck understands what he wanted from the moment he saw Tommy.

After they've finished their dinner, and Buck's looking at the dessert menu, Tommy tells him that he has something for him.

Buck blushes. "Oh, I didn't get you anything—"

Tommy smiles, lips pursed together like he's trying not to laugh. "I didn't expect you to, Evan." Then he sets a small, wooden box on the table between them. 

Buck picks it up and opens it. Inside the velvet lined box are several light blue dice. "Did you make these for me?"

"I did."

Each side has a word or phrase and Buck turns them over to take a look. "Oh." He looks up and meets Tommy's eye. "I think maybe we should skip dessert."

Tommy smirks. "You're adorable, but I've been dreaming of this chocolate cake for a week."

"Hmm. Well, I"—Buck takes two dice out of the box and sets them on the table—"have been dreaming of that for months."

Tommy looks at the dice, throat bobbing as he swallows. "I suppose we could get it to go."

Buck grins. 

Tommy shakes his head. "I knew you'd be trouble."

"Good trouble, I hope?"

And every year since Bobby became captain, they invite Tommy to the station for a meal and to see what they were able to do with his donations

And this is how he meets Buck his probie year ☺️

They all walk around the station with Tommy, but Buck is the one eagerly pointing out the new rowing machine and yoga mats, the Jaws pinball machine, the popcorn machine, DVD player, and movie collection.

Buck tries to show Tommy the bunk room, which is apparently not a part of the usual tour. When Hen says she wants to show Tommy the cool new paramedic stuff they got, Buck looks at Tommy and says, "next time."

Bobby gives Buck a funny look and goes to check on the lasagna. Buck reluctantly follows Bobby instead of Tommy, Hen, and Chim--he doesn't know anything about paramedicine anyway.

They all sit down to dinner and Buck envies the ease they have with Tommy, even though most of them only see him once, maybe a couple times a year. Buck wants so bad for Tommy's attention to be on him, so he starts asking Tommy for things (he knows that's not how the donations work, but Tommy indulges him anyway).

Bobby gives Buck a fond but disapproving look and tells Buck that Tommy isn't Santa Claus and while he is very generous, they can't expect him to be their sole benefactor.

Tommy says it's fine (he's hopelessly endeared by this gorgeous, seemingly restless ball of energy).

Tommy says yes to Buck's request for a Nespresso coffee maker and a new XBOX and even a new washer.

Buck ignores the pointed looks from Bobby, Hen, and Chim.

Tommy's seem to forgotten there's anybody else even at the table. He looks at Buck, quirks his lip, and says, "before you ask, I can't afford to replace a fire engine..."

Buck turns beet red and flails, looks accusingly around the table when the others laugh. "That was one time!"

Bobby raises his eyebrows.

"Two times," Buck mumbles.

Tommy chuckles and taps Buck's foot with his own, making Buck duck his head and blush. Neither of them moves away.

Buck's smile turns cocky. "What about a helicopter--can you afford one of those?"

Tommy smirks. "Two, actually. I could give you flying lessons, if you want."

Buck, smiling softer now, an awed starstruck look in his eyes, says, "I might just take you up on that."

[Meanwhile Chim is like, "do they realize other people are at this table?" and Hen shushes him, "this is getting good--" and Bobby's trying to mind his business mostly, but there's a fond smile on his face when he looks at Buck, when he sees the way Buck's looking at Tommy, and maybe--maybe Tommy might be good for him, they might be good for each other]

"I don't need socks to drive," Tommy answers.

Buck laughs quietly. "Don't make me laugh, everything hurts."

"It's too early for flu season, it's the fucking Fourth of July."

"Eighth."

"It's the fucking Eighth of July."

"You know, the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4th, but on July 8th at 12 PM, it was read aloud in public for the first time."

"So… Happy Public Declaration of the Declaration of Independence Day?"

"It's a little wordy."

"Just a little."

"And it doesn't need to be flu season for my niece to get us sick." Buck turns his head and pouts. "I'm sorry you're sick. I'm sorry I'm sick, too, but I'm more sorry you're sick."

"Don't apologize. People get sick sometimes. This'll probably be the last time I'm sick, though, since I'm gonna die from this, whatever it is."

"No you're not." Suddenly Buck's eyes widen as he flails at Tommy. "Are you? You don't have like a compromised immune system or anything? Are you actually dying? Tommy, we're first responders, why haven't we called 9-1-1?"

Tommy's eyes close for a beat. "I'm not dying, I'm just a very melodramatic 39-year-old man who doesn't want to be sick in front of this guy he really likes."

"Oh," Buck says.

Tommy turns his head to look at Buck. "I'm sorry. I was saving that for my deathbed confession, but that could be now. You can't cringe at a guy's deathbed confession, Evan. It's the law."

Buck doesn't—he doesn't know how to—how he can talk to Tommy. He doesn't know how to keep up with him when he's so—he's funny and flirty and sexy and sometimes he seems so serious that everything in Buck's soul quakes in a way he doesn't understand because he's never felt it before. There's a hundred, a thousand things Buck wants to say to him: he wants to flirt back, he wants to be funny, he wants to say something that will get Tommy to smile in this way he has, when the grin breaks across his face like a sunrise Buck stayed up all night waiting to see. He's so—he's so much, and Buck wants so much.

Buck softly replies, "Okay, I won't."

Tommy's eyes soften, too, like Buck had done or said any of the things that might make Tommy fall in love with him. He hadn't, though. Maybe Tommy just likes him.

"Is it more embarrassing to DoorDash Gatorade and more cold medicine, or to text Eddie and make him our DoorDash guy?" Buck asks.

Tommy's eyes crinkle a little. "Do you think either of those entities have the capacity for shame?"

"No, it's me, I'm ashamed. Which is more embarrassing?"

"Well how about this." Tommy closes his eyes and sighs as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone like it's made out of lead. "You keep your shame and I will get a whole pharmacy delivered to your door, and no one will ever know that you have a cold, too."

"Now it just sounds silly. It's fine, I'll do it."

Tommy swings a hand to Buck and holds it out. Buck rolls his eyes and takes it, links their fingers together. "Let me treat you to some electrolytes and cold medicine before we spend our 48 off on this floor, choking on our own phlegm."

"Yeah, not even each other's," Buck says. "I bet your phlegm tastes great."

It slips out of Buck's mouth and makes Tommy stutter and laugh with his whole achy body. Buck's so embarrassed and so proud and so embarrassed, but how can he want to wither and die when Tommy's looking at him so—

The way Buck looks at him? This warm look like—like he can't look away from Buck, the way Buck can't look away from him.

"I can't believe you've been depriving the queer community of hits like that all these years," Tommy replies, still grinning at him. Buck squeezes his hand and hopes this lightheaded feeling is just—it's that he likes his boyfriend, not that worms are eating his brain or anything.

"Hey, uh." Tommy's hand has loosened around Buck's. Buck wants him back, but maybe he's letting go for a good reason. Or a bad one. Buck doesn't care, he wants it back. "So I'm gonna build this delivery order to end all orders, and then maybe…"

"Maybe…"

Tommy turns his head, but he looks less confident than he did 90 seconds ago. "I know we had really amazing plans for this 48 off, so many things we were going to do to each other's bodies that didn't involve cold compresses and acetaminophen. But now that's all been crushed… would it be so bad if we… like if we still, I don't know, spent them together?"

Buck stares at him, long enough that Tommy looks away and shakes his head. "Never mind, I was—"

"Tommy, you fainted trying to put on a sock," Buck interrupts. "You're not leaving here until I say you can."

"I mean, that sounds very hot and in charge of you, but this was supposed to be a fun little weekend. You didn't sign up for—"

"Yes I did," Buck says. "You're gonna stay here until we're strong enough to fuck each other's brains out again. Upstairs. On the bed." Buck links his fingers with Tommy's again and squeezes (clutches) his hand. "It might take a while. We might even need to take a sick day."

There's something around Tommy's eyes that Buck wants to rub away. Tommy, his fun Tommy, the one who's been funny enough to keep him on the floor for this long, is slowly coming back, but Buck wants—he wants. He wants to be the one to say or do the thing that gets Tommy to stop thinking dumb things like is he gonna kick me out of his house when I'm sick. Just like Tommy makes him laugh and think, Buck wants to be the one to—

He just really wants to be something, mean something, to him.

"If you mean it." Tommy lets out a long-suffering sigh. "If you'll have me, Evan Buckley, I would really like to take a sick day with you."

Buck nods with more confidence than he actually has. "Good. Cause you're gonna. Add some popsicles on there, too."

"Oh, good idea, you're very smart."

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.

Somewhere along the way, they keep up their text conversations even after the routine assurances that Buck is making himself at home and that everything and everybody is still alive and that the house is still standing

Buck starts telling Tommy about his day and vice-versa.

Tommy opens up about his reasons for being out of town [death in the family maybe?]

And they both quickly become the highlight of each other’s day

One night—late night, early morning really but neither of them have gone to sleep yet—Buck says something about staying in Tommy’s house despite never having met him; that he doesn’t even know what Tommy looks like

Within minutes, Buck gets a reply in the form of a selfie of Tommy—tucked in bed, hair rumpled and soft looking (Buck is taken aback by how much he aches with wanting to run his fingers through it), eyes so so blue, and a soft smile on his face.

Buck doesn’t overthink, he takes a similar selfie. As he’s getting ready to take press the shutter button, another message comes in: hi :)

The smile (and the blush he can’t ignore) in Buck’s selfie is genuine

He follows it up with a hi 🙂

[i think it could be funny if there was a mix up somehow and Buck was actually sleeping in Tommy’s bed, not the guest room 😅 like both rooms looked lived in, both full of shelves with books, etc]

Basically what happens is they fall in love over texts and phone calls and probably some sexts and Buck stays for awhile after Tommy returns while he looks for a new place but then he actually stays forever