Haylijah Supremacist

Opening scene: We see a kid (8yo) playing with Legos on his bedroom floor. His room is very much so a boy's room—there are dinosaurs and dragons and a soccer ball in the corner—but it's very sparse. This family is not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. He's building a car, and beyond his closed bedroom door, you can hear muffled shouting. It's his mom and dad. The boy stops playing with his toys and listens as a door slams downstairs (his mom leaving) and heavy footsteps come up the stairs. He's already scooting backwards when the door opens and his father stands in the doorway. He's visibly drunk, and the camera is angled at Tommy's height so that the man in the doorway looks scary and imposing. (We're really leaning into the visuals here). So his dad looks at him and says, "Tommy, were you eavesdropping?" He wasn't, of course, but it doesn't matter because his dad is already undoing his belt (to beat him, not for anything else!!). Little Tommy continues to scoot backwards as his father comes into the room, and closes the door behind him. Before the door closes and the light from the hallway is shut out, we get a shot of the man's shirt—his father is an auto mechanic and the name Kinard is stitched into his clothing.

Similar to 5x17, where Jonah is introduced as a random little boy before the narrative makes the connection as to who he really is, this is the point where the audience realizes, oh, this isn't just any Tommy, this is our Tommy. And he's about to get his ass beaten.

Oh shit.

And then the 9-1-1 title card appears.

Now, all the begins episodes parallel past with present, so in my head, Tommy is off-work. Buck is moving in that day (this isn't a Buck/Tommy focused episode at all, but Buck is the vehicle for this episode to happen) and Tommy needs to finish going through his stuff to make room for him. He comes across a large box in the back of his closet that's stuffed with all his random keepsakes. He reaches into the box and pulls out a small Rubik's cube on a keychain.

The next scene flashes back to the past. We see Tommy as a teenager, getting into trouble with his idiot friends. They're all high as kites, and one of his friends overdoses on [drug]. He notices—he's the only one that notices, actually—and tells one of his other friends to call 9-1-1. They don't because they're kids, there are drugs involved, and they're stupid, so Tommy calls 9-1-1. He follows the operator's instructions and stays on the line until the paramedics get there. He accompanies his friend to the hospital and someone—a cop who is familiar with him, from having plucked him out of trouble a handful of times—waits with him. He tosses Tommy a Rubik's cube (the same one from the box) so that he can keep his mind occupied. His friend is okay, but the cop is like, "Listen, kid. One day, that's going to be you and one day, it's not going to turn out so well. You've got to straighten up or end up dead." Basically, the whole thing is kind of a wake up call. Before the scene changes, we see Tommy look up and look toward a container of pamphlets on the hospital wall. One of the pamphlets has a soldier on it. In his hand, the Rubik's cube has been completed.

In the present, Tommy continues going through his belongings. This is a dense episode, so we're not going to linger too much on what's happening in the present because it's secondary to what's going on in the past, but Buck and Tommy are texting. Buck is excited and has no idea the turmoil that is going on in his boyfriend's head. Tommy matches his enthusiasm (and it's genuine) but also takes a lot of effort at the moment. Still he smiles a little before he puts the phone down and continues digging through the box. Next, he withdraws his dog tags (and if it isn't obvious by now, the items in the box parallel with the next flashback because these are memories that are actively being triggered while the audience watches).

So, the next scene is obviously back to Tommy's time in the Army. Now, ideally, this would be a ninety-minute episode and I'd have the time to explore all the layers of Tommy's time in the service, but, alas, the boundaries of network television. In my head, most of Tommy's trauma comes from his childhood rather than his time in the Army anyway (which isn't to say it doesn't exist, just that it's not at the forefront of his issues) so we're going to have to gloss over that a bit. When we see him again, he's already in the Army, already well into his career, and the audience can see that he's shaped up and matured quite well. He's well-liked and good at what he does.

He's doing repairs on a helicopter when his CO approaches him and asks where he's going and what he's going to do after he's discharged. Tommy looks across the [hangar] and the camera pans to a a young man. He's in his 20s. Handsome in a boyish way. He's already looking at Tommy, but he looks sad and guilty and hesitant. They meet each others eyes and stare just a bit too long to be casual, and there is a lot of unspoken feeling between the two of them. Their relationship, such as it was during the DADT era, is heavily implied and it does not have a happy ending. Tommy looks back at his CO and says he's headed back home to Los Angeles. As for the rest, he doesn't know what he'll do after he leaves, but he'll figure it out as it comes to him. When he looks up at the guy, he's already gone. It's kind of a metaphor for the way the things he wants always seem to slip away.

In the present, Tommy is still going through his stuff. He unearths an old Academy shirt, so the next scene is his first day at the 118.

Tommy doesn't know it yet, but this is the first day of the rest of his life. Immediately, seeing those walls and doors fills the viewer with a sense of peace. Finally he's where he's supposed to be. He learns on his first day what type of boys club the 118 is under Gerrard. He's visibly uncomfortable (visibly to the viewer, who knows him well enough by now to read his face, but not to the old guard) the first time someone makes a homophobic joke. But he laughs and joins in, aware of but refusing to acknowledge the fact that they are making jokes at his expense. Just like that, he's accepted.

We see him assimilate quickly; the 118 goes on several calls. Not necessarily a montage, but we don't linger on the calls either except for a big fire. He saves Sal DeLuca and is rewarded with lots of accolades and praise. Tommy is one of the "in-crowd" and things are going well. But then Chimney shows up and Hen shows up shortly after. We all know how this plays in canon, so we don't linger too long on the times when Tommy is a dickhead but we do understand, from his perspective, that he has disdain for Hen and Chim—not because he's racist but because their existences threaten to dismantle this bubble of safety he's built around himself at the 118. The goal isn't to make the audience dismiss his complicity, but rather make them understand why he made the choices he made.

Because I am self-indulgent, there is one additional scene right before Tommy leaves for Harbor, where he and Hen are sitting in the locker room. She asks if he's going to miss it. He says he doesn't know, then he pauses and says "Kind of." There are lots of mixed feelings here. He suffocated himself in the closet within these walls and became someone he did not recognize, someone who went along with things rather than fight against the status quo, but he also learned how to breathe and exist a little freely once Gerrard left and Bobby took his place. He got his first taste of what it looks like to be Queer and proud within these walls, and that means something to him.

He looks at Hen and there are so many things he'd like to say to her that he doesn't know how to articulate, mostly because he cannot yet articulate them to himself. He's getting to that point but he's not there yet, so when she asks why he's looking at her like that, he just says "Thank you." "For what?" "For showing me another way." (This, of course, has a double meaning: first, referencing the idea that Hen/Chim showed him another way to be a firefighter, to be a family, to be a human being, and second, referencing the fact that Hen showed him another way to be Queer—showed him that Queerness doesn't have to be filled with self-hatred and pain. It can just... be... and people can either accept it, or they don't). Hen gets the sense that there's a lot he's not saying, a lot under the surface that she's not privy to, but she says "You're welcome."

The next scene is Tommy at Harbor, and the moment he gets there, the viewer can see a weight slip off his shoulders. He's back where he belongs—back with the mechanics, back with the big toys that make him feel at ease. It's a direct parallel to Buck's first meeting with the 118 (not for any Buck/Tommy purposes, just because I love a good narrative parallel) where Bobby pranks him. But Tommy smiles when they bust his balls, and settles into himself, and the viewer can see that he's okay. Things might not be perfect—he might not be perfect—but he's on the right track to being the person the audience will know and love in a few short seasons.

Back in the present, Tommy is pulled out of his walk down memory lane by the sound of his front door opening. Buck is standing on the other side with an overly large box in his hands. Tommy helps him carry it in, and offers to get the rest of his stuff from the Jeep, but Buck waves him off. He studies his face for a long moment, and asks if Tommy is alright. Tommy opens his mouth to answer and discovers, almost shockingly, that he is. He is alright. Maybe he wasn't a couple minutes ago. Maybe those items from the past dredged up memories that were best left forgotten. But he's here now, in this moment with his boyfriend, and he's fine. He's survived a lot. He's grown a lot. He's happy. So he smiles and he says yes, yes he's alright, and he kisses Buck, who also smiles, deeply. The doors close, implying sexytimes and Tommy closing the door on all the chapters of his life that have led him to this place, where he's now ready to embrace and walk into his future.

Tommy chuckled softly as he liberated the coffee and added a little bit of cream and sugar to it for Buck before handing it back. Buck took another sip, appreciating the slightly cooler liquid and taste now that Tommy had fixed it. He almost missed the way Tommy’s hand brushed against his cheek as he moved back to the stove, wanting to lean in to it and pouting when Tommy kept moving.

Tommy grinned at his pout, amused. “You don’t want breakfast to burn, do you?”

“No,” Buck acquiesced, boosting himself up onto the counter to watch Tommy cook. The aromas of bacon, eggs, and coffee were slowly waking him up, and he was content to watch the way Tommy’s muscles bunched up under his shirt as he moved easily around the kitchen collecting plates and cutlery and loading up their breakfast as it finished cooking.

Tommy carried the plates over to the table as Buck watched, slowly trailing after him holding his coffee. Tommy ducked back for his own coffee mug, brushing his hand against Buck’s cheek again on the way back. This time Buck did lean into it, and Tommy looked down at him and paused for a moment before sitting down.

“You almost kissed me,” Buck pointed out.

“And you sound disappointed that I didn't.”

“Of course I am,” Buck said. “I hate not getting a good morning kiss.”

Tommy gave a put upon sigh, beckoning Buck over. Buck went eagerly, and Tommy pushed his chair back and pulled Buck down into his lap, one hand on his waist and one cupping the back of his head as he pulled Buck into a kiss. Buck sighed and melted into it, arms wrapping around Tommy’s neck as he luxuriated into the lazy morning kiss.

Tommy eventually pulled back a little, still close enough that his nose was brushing against Buck’s. “Breakfast is going to get cold.”

“I’m going to start thinking you don’t like kissing me anymore,” Buck threatened. Tommy’s hand tightened slightly around his hip as he pressed a quick peck to Buck’s lips.

“Never,” Tommy promised.

Buck moved just enough to be able to turn towards the table, leaning forward to pull his plate and fork across the table, one hand still on Tommy’s neck as he started eating.

“Is this the easiest way to eat breakfast?” Tommy asked, hand still on Buck’s hip as he picked up his fork with the wrong hand.

“It’s the best way,” Buck said when his mouth was empty.

Tommy tried to hide a smile and slipped an extra crunchy piece of bacon onto Buck’s plate. Buck returned the favour, finding a less crunchy piece and putting it on Tommy’s plate.

They finished the rest of their breakfast that way, wrapped around each other, Buck sneaking sips of coffee out of Tommy’s mug because he’d been too lazy to pull his over.

“Are we just going to be a two headed monster all day?” Tommy asked when they were done eating.

“It’s our day off, we can do whatever we want.”

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” Tommy said, eyes roving over him.

Buck started to shake his head but was cut off by a yawn. “That’s what happens when a shift goes over by a couple of hours,” he grumbled.

“Why don’t you let me put the dishes away and then we’ll go nap?” Tommy suggested.

“Okay,” Buck agreed reluctantly, not wanting to move at all. Tommy shifted them until Buck was alone in the chair, and Tommy quickly put the dishes into the dishwasher and the pans into the sink to soak.

They made their way back to the bedroom, Buck flopping onto the bed as Tommy lowered himself more gracefully and made sure they were both tucked in under the covers.

Buck pulled himself closer, wrapping Tommy up in his arms and nuzzling into the back of his neck.

“I know you don’t want to sleep all day, but we can nap for an hour,” Tommy said softly, fingernails scratching softly through the hair on Buck’s arms.

“Just an hour,” Buck agreed, already feeling his breath evening out. Stomach full, heart full, arms full, Buck knew he would fall asleep easily. And now he’d get to wake up with Tommy properly, soft and lazy, the way they should always wake up together on their days off.

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“I have done this before,” Evan reminded him.

Tommy snuck him a glance. “And yet, you almost got us caught.”

Evan held up a finger. “Operative word being almost.”

Tommy shook his head at Evan, lips thin and tight. “Inches and seconds.”

“You should say millimeters and seconds,” Evan said. “It’s not imperial but it’s more accurate.”

“It’s longer.”

Evan rolled his eyes.

“Can you please look like you’re supposed to be here for two more minutes?” Tommy hissed.

Evan craned his head to look around and Tommy groaned. “What, the rich and famous don’t roll their eyes?”

“Not in public,” Tommy gritted his teeth.

“I’m starting to think you don’t like me, Mr. Kinard.”

“I’m very much regretting taking Howie’s place on this.” Tommy guided them past a server, ignoring Evan’s sad noise when he couldn’t grab an hors d'œuvre. Maybe a hundred feet to the doors and they’d be home free. Tommy could get out of this suit, relax, and go back to doing solo jobs.

They were steps away from the door when a voice rang out from behind them. “Gentleman, we need to speak to you.”

“Run,” Evan hissed, grabbing Tommy’s hand and sprinting towards the door.

They burst out of the doors together and ran down the stairs. Tommy could hear the voices and footsteps of their pursuers, and went to turn right.

“This way.” Evan jerked him to the left, pulling him into a slim alley between the museum and the building next to it, so tight the brick pulled at Tommy’s jacket and they had to move sideways, their shoulders too broad to fit across the gap.

“We’re going to get stuck,” Tommy hissed.

“Trust me.” Evan didn’t let him go, and about halfway down the alley opened up, cutting into the building next door.

“Okay, that was easier when I was younger,” Evan admitted. He stopped in front of a motorcycle and handed Tommy one of the helmets hanging from the handles. “What? Always have a backup plan.” He flashed Tommy a wide grin that had had the wives in the museum swooning over him.

As Tommy did the helmet up, Evan opened a saddlebag and pulled out two jackets, shoving his and Tommy’s suit jackets back inside.

“Good enough,” Evan determined, watching Tommy put on the leather jacket as he suited himself up. He sat on the motorcycle and patted the seat behind him. “Let’s go.”

Tommy sat behind him, somewhat reluctantly wrapping his arms around Evan’s waist.

“So, does this count as saving your life, and if so, what is a life debt good for?” Evan mused before he fired up the bike.

“Saved me from a night in jail at best,” Tommy told him.

“Yeah? Can I cash that in for a date?” Evan flashed him another grin before slamming his helmet shut and revving the bike, pulling out onto the empty side street and racing away from the people searching for them.

tag list: @capthawkeyepierce @swagmaster9k @setmeatopthepyre @thefateofdanieljackson @bandluvr97 @chemistry66 @letsdosciencetoit @geekwarrior107 @racerchix21 @fan-of-a-lot @bybobbysbeard @adhd-dean @styxhuntress @owlgirl495 @a-simple-space-bi @fuselsstuff @joyousmistake @queerasbuck @starryeyedjanai @betterthanfakemouthstatic @sherlocking-out-loud @thecarrott @geddyqueer @apollabarnes @applesintheearlyfall @buffaluff @bluroux @corporatebanana @spacediino @arabella-s-arts @stuckinthemiddle22 @changmin-lord-of-chaos @curlyboys @icestar663 @kinardnatural @meltedredweasels @wwefan18 @i-dont-even-know-anymore976 @theknightswhosayni @rcmclachlan @myriadofstuff @captain-dh @absdax @future-demiurge @14brisingr @scarletsky153 @icyfox17 @theotherbuckley

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.