eternal indie kid

'I mean it.' Tommy takes advantage of their deserted street and backs Buck up against the elm tree outside of Mrs. Wilson's house and there's no way Buck isn't going to hear about the disturbance they’re causing the next time he mows her backyard.

But it's kinda worth it when Tommy kisses him again and slips his thigh between Buck's legs. 'You're beautiful; I mean it.'

'You're drunk, captain,' Buck says, grinning against Tommy's mouth and pulling him in by the waist. There's enough alcohol in Tommy's blood to make a good argument for keeping him away from an open flame but by some incredible, horny higher-power, he's hard in his jeans anyway.

'That's true.' The intensity of Tommy's next kiss catches Buck off-guard, as does the earnestness in his voice when he says, 'And in the morning I'm gonna be sober but you're still gonna be beautiful.'

Buck aches. They kiss until their lips are numb and Buck's feet are absolutely not on the ground where they should be. The distant wail of a police siren has Buck wondering if Mrs. Wilson decided things were getting a little too R-Rated for her liking. 'Nothing's gonna look beautiful in the morning, Tommy.' Maybe he's imagining the sirens getting closer. 'Especially not the inside of a jail cell, c'mon.'

As Buck drags Tommy away from the scene of the crime, Tommy turns back and waves at absolutely nothing. ‘Been there, bought the t-shirt!’