I write stuff.

Most of my fics can also be found here on a03

Everything I post here on tumblr is tagged with #owlishwritings or exclusive/abandoned snippets #owl's tumblr

Bucktommy (9-1-1)

Good Teacher: Short Bottom!Tommy ficlet. (E)

Keeping You: Buck just wants to keep this. (E)

Praise: This time, it's Tommy on the receiving end of some praise. (E)

Smutty Drabble (E)

The past: Something dark about the past. (M)

Naughty texts from Buck (M)

Want: Buck wants. (T)

Devotion: Tommy just wants Buck to stay safe. (T)

Bad News: Tommy is taking care of Buck. (T)

Long Day: Some negotiations between Tommy and Buck. (T)

Getting Hurt: Buck narrowly escapes getting hurt rather badly. (T)

Migrane: Tommy takes care of Buck (T)

Past Nightmares: Tommy had dealings with the NCIS in the past. (T)

Mafia AU

Inception AU

Charmed AU (ramblings)

Reconnection (E)

Buck's grief (T)

Rules (T)

Old Habits Die Hard (T)

Shovel Talk (G)

Falling Apart: Buck falls apart, Tommy's there to catch him (T)

Dreaming about you (E)

Saltommy (9-1-1)

At Work: Skirting the line about what you can get away with in the showers at work. (E)

About Begging: Sal giving up on telling Tommy not to beg (E)

Playing a Little Meaner: Featuring a toy, Sal being mean and some name-calling. (E)

Sal's lap (E)

Worship: Tommy worships Sal. (E)

Teasing (E)

Lazy Afternoons (E)

Suit: Sal is wearing a suit. Tommy is kind of losing his mind. (M)

Nightmares: Tommy still has nightmares from his time in the army. Sal is good at comforting him. (T)

Protective: Sal shows how protective he is about Tommy when some idiot spews nonsense at a scene. (T)

Love: Sal confessing (T)

Family Ties (T)

Kids: A sweet little something about Sal handling kids. (G)

Hugs and Kisses (T)

Gerrad's Orders (T)

Name (E)

Stop All The Clocks (T)

To Feel It Completely (E)

First Time Bottoming for Sal (E)

Salbucktommy

Probie!Buck (G, for this snippet)

Trip to Italy (E), Part II

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

Biker Boy Dreams: Stiles having a thing for Derek in leather (E)

How To Be A Tease: What it says on the tin. Stiles is being a tease. (E)

Caught in the Act: Scott getting an eye full of Sterek action. (E)

Gentlemen Don't Kiss and Tell: Discussion between Allison and Stiles about certain part of werewolf anatomy. (M)

A Head Filled With Voices: Which is about Stiles's self-worth. (T)

Lydia's reaction to Stiles/Derek (T)

Nature's Call (T)

Rockon (S.W.A.T.)

Touch-starved Rocker part I and part II (T)

Hungry Eyes: Five times they fuck, while it's still an affair - and one time after. An earlier snippet from this fic is here. (E)

Hard Truths: Annie finds out about Rockon and slaps Rocker. (T)

You're Not Tommy: Rockon + Evan, After the break-up Evan meets Rocker and Deacon. Also a sequel with Rocker calling Tommy. (E)

Jealous Deacon: One of Rocker's exes flirts with him, and Deacon gets jealous. (T)

Keep Me: Deacon is spending the night at Rocker's. (E)

Past Ghosts (M)

Who Hurt You (E)

First Time Bottoming for Deacon (E)

Rockie Verse II (T)

Other Ships

Tarlos, Jealousy (T)

Tarlos, Sleepy Passion (E)

Ruca (S.W.A.T) Toys: On their day off, Rocker and Luca test out a new toy. (M)

"I'm not judging!" Buck said immediately, resisting the urge to do something entirely childish like stomping a foot. Even though he kind of wanted to. His hands made up for it, fluttering around in big gestures without Buck even trying. "I'm just saying it's a little mean."

Tommy tossed his keys onto the sideboard and fully turned to Buck; it wasn't a full laugh now, nor a smile. Those teeth were grinning sharply, a little darkly in a way that promised things.

"I thought you liked it a little mean, Evan."

Buck wasn't prudish. Or easily embarrassed. It was just... Tommy. All that muscle mass on his arms and the big hands reaching for Buck, finding his bicep in a way that shouldn't be hot; the line of the jaw and the stubble; the dark hair too and the faintest grey; and fuck yes, that stupid cleft too, of course Buck was into it.

"Sweetheart," Tommy muttered, sounding positively delighted. "You're blushing."

"Your fault," Buck muttered, and Tommy huffed: "Yeah, yes, I imagine it is. Let me at least make it up to you."

The sentence trailed off into a kiss, the last words barely a breath between them as Buck bridged the last sliver of space himself, reaching for Tommy's hips to keep him right there as Buck worked on kissing him silly. Or the other way around. Not that it mattered.

"Do you know what the difference is between the couple in the restaurant and us?"

The couple that had sat only a few tables away, one of them shifting the whole uncomfortably in his seat the whole evening, while the other kept slipping a hand into the pocket of his jeans with eyes that grew darker and darker in the low light. Buck knew because jeans guys had made eye contact, head tilting when Buck didn't look away until Tommy noticed to, and linked their ankles under the table.

Buck gasped. The hands on his ass had come from nowhere, and Tommy knew exactly what he was doing when he squeezed, making Buck moan as the plug inside him shifted deliciously. Tommy nipped at his ear, and the shiver that went through Buck all but wrecked him: "Still good, Evan?"

"So good," Buck sighed, arms coming up around Tommy's neck as he leaned forward. Tommy caught his weight, humming, and the leg pressing between Buck's thighs was nothing if not perfectly placed.

"What's... the difference?" Buck prompted, already breathless.

Tommy caught Buck's jaw, kissing him again. Briefly, fondly. Sweet like a piece of candy.

Buck shivered when Tommy said in a voice as low as Buck had ever heard: "I know my boy can take it without squirming."

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Buck found himself nodding before he'd caught up with his own movement. He could see it. He could see Sal standing between Tommy and a wall of bureaucracy without budging an inch, the way he'd stood between Buck and his own worst thoughts more than once now. Would keep standing.

Then Buck thought about the cutlery in the sink and the way Sal was hovering in the kitchen but decidedly not cooking anything. About the fact that neither of them had eaten, probably, in a while. Buck pressed a kiss to Tommy's hair and slid out from under him.

"Stay there."

Tommy pouted, which was mean, because it almost made Buck move right back into position. Almost. "Where're you going?"

"To cook. Don't argue."

Tommy looked at him for a moment, surprised in a way that was small and unguarded, and Buck felt something settle in his own chest at the sight of it.

"Okay," Tommy said, and Buck was moved to the pantry.

It was still organised in Sal's particular system, which Buck only understood about sixty percent of, even now. Something that he'd have to put his foot down about. Only, knowing Sal, he'd cave delightfully easily if Buck asked the right way.

For the moment, Buck worked with what he could find without asking. Pasta. Garlic. The cheaper olive oil in the back, because the good one was for finishing only, and he didn't have the nerve. A can of tomatoes. Anchovies, which Buck was learning to be braver about. ("They're just anchovies, Evan," said fondly, sweetly; with a kiss pressed to the crown of Buck's head.)

Sal came off the phone with a noise that might have started life as a curse in Italian before it had been swallowed. There was a pause, then footsteps, and then Sal's hand was settling on Buck's hip as he came to stand beside Buck at the counter.

"Evan. What are you doing?"

"Cooking."

"You don't have to--"

"I know."

Buck didn't look at him, just started chopping. He could feel Sal hesitating beside him, the visible internal effort of someone who had been on the phone for too long, trying to redirect that energy into something gentler. Sal let out a long breath before he spoke.

"At least let me--"

"Tori," Buck said firmly, but not unkindly. "Sit down."

There was a pause. Then a huff of a laugh, surprised and not displeased. The line of Sal's mouth turned cheeky: "Yes, sir."

Buck went pink and tried not to be obvious about it. Sal kissed the back of his shoulder once, twice, before drifting over to the couch. From the corner of his eye, Buck saw him fold down beside Tommy, who immediately and without comment turned to fit himself along Sal's side.

Sal exhaled like he had been waiting all evening to do it.

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A cruel instinct made Sal want to sneer something like 'do this a lot, do you?', only he bit down on it, because even in his fucked up head, he realised that it was a bit too obviously showing his hand. Or perhaps Buck knew anyway. Still, he didn't waver.

"Alright," Sal allowed, not even sure how he hadn't ended up at a resounding 'no'. It was something about Buck. This ridiculous puppy of a man, who smiled brightly and immediately promised to text Sal the address from his car.

"See you in a bit!"

He wasn't wrong. Sal arrived at the dinner-style place less than twenty minutes later and parked next to Buck's jeep. Perhaps there were some backroads he didn't know of, because Sal was very sure he'd pulled out of the parking lot at the firehouse first.

If Sal's nondescript irritation at the situation as a whole showed at all, Buck didn't let on. He just led Sal into the restaurant, and never once, between going inside and sitting down and ordering, stopped keeping up a conversation that was somehow easy and flowing without becoming superficial. Sal couldn't pin him down. Not at all.

"Did you know that spider silk is one of the strongest naturally occurring materials by weight?" Buck asked, with his chin resting in his palm. It looked lazy, almost, but the way he kept considering Sal was too calculating for that. "Once a net is spun, it's structurally sound. Durable too."

"I feel like you're trying to make a point," Sal said. "There's no need to lead me to make my own conclusions; you could just tell me."

Buck gave him a lopsided grin. "Have you always been this alike? Or is it because you've been partners for so long?"

The way Buck said that word, partners, was heavy beyond reason. Back in the day, Sal had realised its weight once, just once, and then forced himself to shove it all back down and never think about 'this is Tommy, my partner' ever again.

"It was like that for me with my partner for a while. Eddie," Buck went on, when Sal made no move to reply. "But that one ended a bit badly. He moved. Then came back. He has a bit of an anger issue."

Sal controlled his flinch. But something must have shown in his expression, because Buck's eyebrows rose. "It's a different story."

"When I left the 118, it was out of anger as well," Sal heard himself say, aware that the words could cut him, but unable to stop himself. Damn those pretty curls and the honest expression on Buck's face. Part of Sal wanted to give away much, much more than just a few minor truths about the past.

"That's not how Tommy tells it," Buck said. "He said Bobby transferred you because you were too good at leading."

Sal looked up from his food, a little stunned. "It feels like that's a little biased."

Buck shot back immediately: "Sure. Because Tommy cares about you."

Sal had walked into that one. Barreled straight into the knife that was always right there, just waiting to cut him. Sal should know better at this point.

There was a merciful streak in Buck because he pivoted the conversation. Not quite without letting on that he was doing it, but still. Sal asked him about work, and Buck sighed, making a motion with his hand that indicated it was all a bit difficult even before he admitted it. Sal really had no leg to stand on in demanding more details, so he didn't.

When they finally paid and left, the parking lot was already mostly empty; it distinctly felt like that was by design. Or if it wasn't, Buck at least took hold of the opportunity before Sal could even fully gather it was one. One moment, he stood next to his car, trying to find a way to say goodbye without being too mean or too honest.

The next, Buck stepped into Sal's space, hand curved around the side of his neck, and kissed him. Unhurried, open-mouthed, like he had all the time in the world. Sal could feel the kiss hook into his heartstrings, and it was hard to fight the meaning behind it.

He swallowed hard when Buck let him go. "You and Tommy are together."

"Will you keep using that as an excuse?" Buck asked, unimpressed. "Tommy knows I'm here with you."

Sal laughed, a jaded sound. "So what? Is it an open relationship now? And you've decided to play—"

"No." Buck backed away a little, something sharpening in his voice. "It's just you. You know that."

Something shifted in Buck's expression, quick and quickly gone. He looked almost hurt. Sal's mouth snapped shut.

Buck sighed. "Honestly, you want to know what's funny? You both do the exact same thing. He soft-pedals to avoid scaring you off. You bolt before he gets the chance. I'm surprised you're even talking to each other still."

"Hey—"

"Oh?" A flicker of something that wasn't quite a smile. "So when Tommy called you a friend because he didn't want to spook you, you didn't flee your own apartment because you wanted to be more than that?"

Sal took a step back, out of Buck's immediate reach. He felt unbalanced, and it took a moment before he found his anger: "You're—"

"A nosy bastard?" Buck's grin took an edge. "Nah."

He held Sal's gaze, and something in his expression settled, not softer, exactly. Quieter. More dangerous for it.

"I already love him. And I could fall for you so easily."

The silence stretched. Buck let it.

"So yeah," he said finally. "I'll push a little."

A funny thing was happening in Sal's chest. One which he felt entirely objected to, weathering an uncontrolled storm. He did that well, usually. But 'I could fall for you' and 'easily' wasn't a combination of words Sal had heard before or even thought he'd hear.

"Think about it," Buck pressed, still pushing. "Here, give me your phone."

Sal did, too unbalanced to resist Buck's open hand, palm to the sky with an ease that belied the weight of what he was offering. Maybe Buck didn't realise it, or maybe he was always this open with his affection. Sal could believe it with everything Tommy had told him.

"There," Buck said and handed Sal's phone back. "You have my number now. Think about it. If it's too hard to talk to Tommy, text me."

"What makes you think that texting you is easier?"

Buck's smile was instant, wide and true. "You don't love me yet, Tori."

Yet. Like inevitability. So fucking confident. Sal could have teased, could have said something about arrogance. But Buck was the furthest thing from that, and the implication was startlingly clear.

You love him.

When Buck touched his arm just above his elbow and pressed another quick peck to the corner of Sal's mouth, he was still absolutely frozen.

"Text me," Buck said, and Sal's gaze fell from those startling eyes to the screen of his phone. He'd saved his contact as 'Evan'.

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Buck inhaled, but then caught the breath and whatever words came with it in the space between his cheeks. His head fell forward. The next roll of Sal's hips made him release all that air in a rush.

He cursed, knees shifting apart. Not in a bid to lessen the insistent pressure that had him far too close to embarrassing himself, but right into it. Some part of Buck seemed to have decided that if he had to come in under a minute, just from Sal pushing inside and grinding there, he wanted to drown in the feeling.

"C-close," he admitted, feeling his face heat.

"I know," Sal cooed. "C'mon then."

Buck shook his head. "'s too soon."

Behind him, Sal chuckled, and Buck could feel the vibration everywhere. He groaned. It was only then that he noticed how he trembled in Sal's hold.

"Nothing to worry about," Sal's voice was low. "I won't be done with you until I've made you come at least three times, baby."

A wicked shiver ran through Buck, leaving him hollow and open. Desperate for Sal to keep his promise.

"I'll make you feel so good, Evan."

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"You going to tell me what we're working with, or—"

Sal kissed him, brief and warm, and turned back to the shelf. The whole line of his made it abundantly clear that he wasn't planning on letting Buck help him.

"Sal."

A hum, an arm around Buck's waist. Another kiss. Buck shifted in front of him, tried for stern and probably ended up somewhere smitten with his look. It didn't matter; Sal was still idly rubbing circles over Buck's hip, considering the pantry.

"I'm thinking."

He was quiet for another moment, then reached past Buck for something on the upper shelf, and used the proximity to kiss him yet again, slower this time, one hand loose at Buck's jaw. Buck had barely caught up when Sal was already stepping back, holding up a tin of tomatoes with an expression of quiet triumph.

"Okay," he said. "I know what we're having."

Sal didn't accept any kind of protest from Buck, and wouldn't let him help beyond putting a pot with water on the stove. His reasoning was that the meal was easy, and that really any more than one cook would ruin it.

Buck finally fled to the sideboard with the plates and the cutlery. He set the table while Tommy fed the wood stove in intervals, the room starting to smell faintly of wood chippings and smoke. Buck and Tommy both circled around to taste spoonfuls of Sal's sauce.

The three of them ended up eating on the floor in front of the stove, backs against the couch, bowls in their laps, and the fire doing most of the talking. Sal had been right. It was a simple meal. Warm and filling. Tasting better than it had any right to because of where they were and who they were with.

rest on a03

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"Go."

Anna seemed torn only for a moment. Then she nodded gratefully and went. The guest had the bright idea to whistle after her, giving Buck all the clues to piece together this particular puzzle, and say: "She's a sweet girl, what's the issue here?"

"Sir," Sal said firmly, his smile was hard. "I'd ask you to settle your bill and leave."

Sleazy spluttered and took a moment to respond: "What? Why?"

Sal was all calm, giving him no points of attack. It made alarm bells ring in Buck's head to see the patron tense and ball his fists.

"We do not accept this kind of harassment here."

"What? Who's harassing anyone? She's been making eyes at me the whole evening--"

"I assure you, she has not." Sal's voice took a dangerous edge, and the man got up and was all the way in his face in the next moment.

"I want the manager."

"I am the manager," Sal said, voice sharp but controlled. "And I'd ask you to leave."

The man pivoted. Decided, apparently, that if the manager wasn't going to fold, he'd make the room do it for him. There was a sneer on his face.

"You all seeing this?" He spread his arms, playing to the tables around him. "Getting thrown out for having a conversation?"

Sal still didn't change his tone. "Sir--"

"No, I want to know." He turned back to Sal, and something ugly had settled into his face. "I want to know what kind of place this is, where a paying customer gets treated like this."

He seemed to spot something behind Sal, and as Buck looked, Anna had made her way to another distant table. Sal seemed to clue in to that fact as well. The guy didn't even manage one step before Sal grabbed his arm to stop him.

In response, the man shoved him.

Both hands, flat against Sal's chest, and pushing with force. Sal hit the neighbouring table hard -- caught it with his hip, grabbed the edge on instinct. The wine glasses on it jumped. One tipped, rolled, and shattered against the tile. Sal's hand came down on top of it.

The room went very quiet.

"Hey."

Tommy was already on his feet. Calm. Hands slightly raised, nothing aggressive about it, just -- there. Putting himself between the patron and Sal in the next step, the way you'd close a door.

"That's enough."

Also not a question.

Buck was beside him a half-beat later, and he watched Sal straighten up slowly, deliberately, the kind of controlled that cost something -- and caught the red smear across his palm before Sal had even looked down at it. He doubted Sal had entirely noticed.

But the patron had. He had gone a little pale. Like the sound of the glass had done what Sal's calm voice hadn't.

"I--" he started, and then Tommy was steering him toward the exit with a hand at his shoulder that was not quite a grip. The man was letting him, which said something about Tommy that Buck had never gotten tired of. Steady and calm, not just because he was a first responder.

Buck stayed.

Sal was still standing there, straight-backed, the way he'd been standing all evening. Except he was looking at his hand now, and the red on his palm was a little hard to look at. Sal winced.

"Inside," Buck said.

Sal glanced at him. Looked like he was going to argue, or deflect, or do something managerial about it. Buck wasn't having it.

"You've got glass in your hand," he said. "Inside."

Sal went.

The terrace was already doing that thing where everyone pretended they hadn't been watching. Cutlery finding plates again. A woman near the railing saying something soft to her husband, eyes carefully forward. One older couple didn't bother pretending -- just watched them go with the kind of open sympathy that probably felt worse.

But Buck only tracked all of that as a side, following Sal to the inside of the restaurant as he called out briefly to Anna in Italian before leading the way. Which was dim and cool. It smelled like garlic and old wood. Sal led him past the host stand to a small bathroom off the corridor, the kind of cramped staff-adjacent space that had a first aid kit zip-tied to the wall and a single bare bulb.

"You don't have to--"

"Sit down," Buck said.

Sal raised an eyebrow at him, but then he dragged a chair over and sat. As Buck went through the kit, Sal was picking at the glass himself. Buck noticed his good hand working at his palm in a distracted, automatic way, and caught his wrist.

"Don't. You'll push it deeper."

He found the tweezers. Sal watched him rummage with an expression that had gone unreadable in the way of people who are used to being composed in front of strangers.

"Salvatore."

Anna appeared in the doorway, slightly breathless, dark eyes going straight to Sal's hand.

"I told you to stay on the floor," Sal said.

"And I told you--" she stopped. Switched tracks. Said something sharp and Italian that Buck didn't catch, and Sal answered in kind, and the cadence of it was so immediately familiar -- the tone of it -- that Buck didn't really need the language.

I'm fine. Don't fuss. I said I'm fine.

Sal finally made to push her hand away, and Anna slapped his arm, raising her voice in a way that reminded Buck so painfully of Maddie that he connected the dots. Siblings.

"He's got at least two pieces still in there," Buck said, not looking up. "So he's not that fine."

Anna's expression did something complicated. She looked at Buck like she was deciding something.

"He's stubborn," she finally said.

"I'm getting that."

Sal made a noise that wasn't quite either of their names, and Buck pressed his thumb gently below the deepest of the cuts to get a better angle, and Sal went quiet.

It took a few minutes. The first piece came out clean. But the second was smaller, took longer, and Sal's hand tensed once and then deliberately relaxed, and Buck pretended not to notice either. When it was done, he pressed gauze against the palm, and Sal held it there without being asked.

"Thank you," Sal said. He said it like the words were unfamiliar in that order.

"Thank Tommy," Buck said. "He's the one who stopped it from being worse."

It was almost like he'd summoned his husband, because Tommy appeared beside them right then. He put a hand on Buck's shoulder like an instinct, like an 'there you are'.

"Hey," he said to Buck, and then looked at Sal's hand. "Shit. That looks deep. Are you alright?"

"It's nothing," Sal said, and Buck didn't miss Anna's stern look.

"The guy's gone. I made sure to get his name, in case you want to press charges--"

"Not over this," Sal said. "Happens every other Thursday."

He shrugged the whole thing off.

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All the trees here seemed old, the kind that made the air feel borrowed. Pines mostly, with a clean smell that was nothing like the city. Buck kept pulling in slow breaths of it without quite meaning to.

Below the ridge, the trail climbed along. Water was moving somewhere, a creek Buck couldn't see but could hear in the gaps between birdsong and the soft fall of their footsteps. Sunlight came down in long columns through the canopy. It felt like the whole place was set to a slower tempo; one that matched their pace and the mood between the three of them.

Buck saw Sal rub at his eyes when he thought no one was looking at him, and instantly, he felt guilty. Tommy's offer had been just that, an innocent offer. But Buck's enthusiasm had made it almost impossible for Sal to say 'no' to their little excursion.

„If you’d rather go back, "Buck offered, low enough so he was certain Tommy wouldn’t overhear. "We don’t have to do the full hike.

"You’re sweet," Sal told Buck, the shape of the word in his mouth a little like he'd wanted to use another one entirely. "But I promise you, I'm good. I would have told you otherwise."

„Hey," Tommy called. "You’re falling behind."

Sal's laugh, when it came, was bright enough to startle a bird out of the brush somewhere to their left. It was so good to hear him laugh like that, get the confirmation that his tiredness was the only thing lingering like a veil over his brightness.

"'Falling behind, ' he says," Sal repeated with an almost mocking edge, something catching at the corner of his mouth. "Hey, Evan." He tilted his head toward Tommy's retreating back, a question and a dare at once. "First one there?"

Sal traversed the uneven path smoothly, about four strides ahead of Buck only because of his head start. In no time at all, he'd passed Tommy and blown both of them a kiss before his steps finally slowed another few paces later. When he stopped, Sal turned the motion smoothly into a casual pause to look out through the trees, but Buck saw that the little stunt hadn't really done him any good.

Instead of saying anything outright, Buck fell into step beside him and reached over without comment, lifting the strap of Sal's pack off his shoulder. He was starting to grow a bit bolder in his assessment of both of his men in following through with the right actions.

"Evan—"

"I've got it."

"I don't need you to—"

"I know." Buck shouldered the pack alongside his own. "I've got it anyway."

Sal looked at him for a moment, something quiet moving through his expression. Then, lightly: "My hero."

To which Tommy laughed, and Buck muttered: "Yeah, yeah."

He could read that smile on Sal's lips well enough.

They made it to their destination only a little after that. The trees broke open without warning, and the view arrived all at once — a wide valley going gold and green in the afternoon light, the mountains layered behind it in shades of blue. A flat shelf of rock jutted out just enough to sit on, and below it, the slope fell away softly through scrub and scattered pines.

Buck stood at the edge of it for a moment and didn't say anything. There wasn't much to say.

"It's a good spot," Sal told Buck in a mock whisper. "Has seen a lot of nice evenings." Tommy exchanged a glance with Sal, a grin there. "Nothing quite like a romantic afternoon with my two favourite people."

Said so casually, so freely. Buck found he didn't feel the need to prod at the statement in his mind, to test its soundness. He could leave it be. Just for the moment.

Tommy spread out a blanket and motioned for them to sit. A little like out of a movie. Buck grinned even as Sal teased. He kissed Tommy’s temple as soon as they settled in a move that Buck knew well now and that told the truth of his emotions. Unspoken little things that seemed to bleed into the space between the three of them more and more, where before it had been mostly Sal and Tommy.

Tommy's usual care showed in the way he'd packed, too. There was dried fruit, some good cheese, crackers that didn't crumble immediately, a bar of chocolate that Sal reached for first and that Tommy surrendered without comment. Buck took note of the brand, tried to sear it into his memory when Sal made a rather indecent sound about it. Despite that, Sal shared with them, and Buck absolutely got the appeal.

Up here, Sal seemed to breathe a little easier, not just because they were resting. Buck could see him taking it all in, the same way Buck had been doing all along the trail. But he also saw the way; Sal's hands weren't quite cooperating. He fumbled the wrapper twice, and when he reached across Tommy for a cracker, he misjudged the distance a little, knocking it sideways.

He laughed at himself, unhurried, and made no effort to explain or correct. Buck found he liked that. Whatever Sal usually kept polished and in order, he'd set it down somewhere on the trail without noticing. Tommy watched him drop an apricot for the third time with an expression of patience and vague concern that he hid underneath. It didn't stay hidden for much longer.

"Tori," Tommy made a grabbing motion for Sal, pulling him in. "Come here."

Even as he laughed and huffed a little, Sal let himself be guided down, head in Tommy's lap. His eyes fluttered when Tommy ran fingers along his scalp in a way that Buck knew felt divine.

Tommy's voice, when he spoke next, was pitched low, meant just for the space between them. He asked about Buck's last shift, the kind of easy question that wanted a real answer, not a summary. Buck gave him one. The valley held the light a little longer than felt possible, and Buck watched it while he talked, and Tommy watched him, and it was comfortable. The particular comfort of being known at a slight angle, still new enough to be interesting.

Sal offered something once, a small correction, fond, and then didn't again. Eventually, Buck glanced down and found Sal's breathing had evened out, his face slack, one hand loosely curled against Tommy's knee. He seemed peaceful.

Buck let his voice temper off, kept looking down at Sal, whose face was relaxed with the sleep that had evaded him the whole night. He felt himself smile, and when he looked up, Tommy's eyes were on him with an expression that was equal parts wondrous and fond.

Tommy's thumb moved in a slow arc along Sal's hairline, and then stilled, and they both just looked at him for a moment. Then Tommy's eyes went back to Buck, and Buck glanced back, and neither of them reached for words to fill the silence that was settling comfortably over them. The moment was calm, cast in amber.

Buck leaned back on his palms and let it be quiet. He found, somewhat to his own surprise, that he didn't mind it at all.

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