#bmv3

5 months, 20 days and 13 hours before the breakup

He wakes up first.

The hair tickling at his nose still bears the smell of smoke. It’s hiding under the sandalwood and strawberries from the shower gel but he notices it. Notices it from how close it is, from how much he wants to keep smelling it.

His dreams had involved soot-covered kisses, strong arms wrapped around him, tired smiles and absent-minded touches. But then again, that hadn’t been just a dream.

Tommy’s arm is wrapped tight around his middle, face nestled against his neck, warm breath fanning across his skin. Buck’s arms are wrapped around Tommy as best he can, ignoring his pillow in order to lean on the other man’s head, humming at the sigh of satisfaction at his chest.

His fingers tangle in the still-smoke-scented curls, his free hand firmly planted in the strong muscles of Tommy’s back. Buck knows when the other man wakes up, his hand running slowly up and down his side, fingers teasing at the still-unknown-to-him ticklish spot on his rib. 

Buck smiles. 

There is still a lot they don’t know about each other. Practically everything.

There are kisses on Buck’s collarbone, on his shoulders, his chest. Slow presses of lips for the early hours of the morning and yet, he shivers all the same, his fingers flexing on Tommy’s scalp as a loud hum escapes him. He feels Tommy’s lips curl as he presses them to the skin of his neck. Buck looks down as Tommy looks up. 

He knows another thing now - Tommy’s eyes are soft after waking up, the veil of dreams still clinging to the corners; his smile is small but so bright, no worries or fears dampening its shine. Buck feels his heart pounding harshly against his chest. 

He can have this. Buck wants to have this.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Tommy whispers, not wanting to disrupt the quiet of the morning and Buck clings tighter. 

He kisses the top of Tommy’s head, the side of his brow, his chest, letting the man’s pleased hums quiet his impulsive thoughts.

I would take care of you forever. Stay with me. Let me keep you.

Because it’s early. It’s new. It’s “practically everything”.

“Anytime.” He says instead and returns the bright smile Tommy gives him, the sun rising from his windows.

Buck can have this. He wants this.

They just need to get to know each other better.

---

1 week and 13 hours before the breakup

He is so warm. 

Buck burrows closer to his pillow, face nuzzling against the soft fabric. A low, deep hum reverberates under his cheek, fingers tangling deeper in his freed curls. He hides his smile on his boyfriend’s chest, wrapping his arm tighter around the other man’s torso.

Tommy turns on his side to him and Buck only whines for half a second at the loss before he is pulled closer by his boyfriend’s arms around his shoulders. Their legs tangle together and they are plastered against each other. Buck sighs in satisfaction and feels a smiling kiss on the top of his head. 

Something warm settles in his chest. A purring cat curling up. A batch of cookies cooking in the oven. The smell of a freshly printed checklist. Happy. Warm.

Tommy hums again when Buck kisses that patch of skin between shoulder and neck, the older man’s arms wrapping tighter, fingers digging into Buck’s scalp. Buck grabs hold of Tommy’s opposite shoulder with one hand, the other curled against his hip under the tank top. His boyfriend’s hand is warm across his bare back and Buck continues to kiss up his neck, relishing every sigh and quiet moan in the early hours of the morning.

His lips tease at the corner of Tommy’s mouth and that must break the tenuous hold the other man had on his control because before he can take his next breath, Buck finds himself with his back pressed against the bed and a heavy, warm body on top of him kissing him like he wants to steal all the oxygen in his lungs. Buck isn’t complaining.

“You just woke up,” Tommy half-heartedly scolds him, lips trailing across Buck’s jawline. “And you’re ready to go again?” He finishes asking in a whisper at his ear as his thigh presses gently against where he’s already hardening in his boxers. Buck moans and digs his fingers on his boyfriend’s hair.

He flutters his eyes open to look up at Tommy looking down at him with blown pupils and that awed smile on his lips. Buck can’t quite hold back the shiver that look always brings out. 

Something hot settles in his chest. A five-alarm fire blazing against his skin. The controlled flames of a successful flambé. The scorching feel of his boyfriend’s hands on his bare skin. Exciting. Hot.

“Can you blame me?” 

Buck smirks as he grinds back and Tommy chokes on a moan at the pressure on his hardening cock. The spark in his boyfriend’s eyes turns predatory and Buck’s body tingles in excitement, desperation, expectation.

“No,” Tommy grins. “I really can’t.”

As they kiss, Buck feels that heat again. Not just the heat in his skin wherever his boyfriend’s skin is touching, no, the one in his chest, in his heart. It’s comfort, it’s need, it’s want, it’s waking up in his boyfriend’s arms, it’s falling asleep with his boyfriend in his arms. 

It’s-It’s warm.

---

8 hours after the breakup

He didn’t sleep.

The sun rises outside his windows and he hasn’t slept.

His bed is cold despite the fact that he spent the night lying in it. His sheets smell like his citrusy shower gel with no hint of smoke. His hand stretches out into the empty side of the bed, his side of the bed. It’s cold.

His mouth still tastes of the beers he drank at Eddie’s, he can still feel the helplessness as he watched Tommy leave through his loft door, still wants to tear the door off its hinges to keep from seeing it, all of it. The way his nickname sounded on Tommy’s lips haunts him throughout the night and it brings fresh tears to his eyes, a coldness settling in his chest. Buck pulls his pillow to his face and when he catches that hint of sandalwood, strawberries and smoke, he shatters.

Chest wracking sobs hiccuping in his lungs, a weight suffocating him, making it hard to breathe. 

“Do you love him?” 

It was an easy question. A “yes” or “no” question and yet, Buck still failed at it. Let his hang-ups, the focused stares of his sister and her best friend make him stumble over his words. 

“And could you see a future there?”

He could, he did. 

He saw it, as he woke up alongside Tommy for the millionth time since that first time, he saw it. He felt the warmth and the comfort and the-the-

But Tommy still broke up with him. Shattered all those hopes and dreams he dared have, dared to put out into the world when he agreed with Josh’s questions. 

And now, he’s cold and alone in a big bed made for two.

And yet, he’d still do it all over again.

Because he loves him. It’s a “yes”. He still does.

---

2 months, 3 days and 6 hours after the breakup

He hasn’t slept.

He won’t when falling asleep means missing a minute of this. Tommy in his arms, Buck plastered to every inch of his back, arms tight around his middle.

Tommy hasn’t slept either. 

Buck hasn’t felt his breathing change into that deep and steady pattern it always would, creating a lullaby for him to fall asleep to. 

They haven’t slept.

The room is still dark in the late hours of the night and they’ve been quiet, tears dried on their faces hours ago, cherishing the quiet, the warmth.

“I love you! I should have told you before but I-I was scared and you left!”“Bu- Evan, I-I was scared too, I thought y-you didn’t, you said-”

“I know, I-I said the wrong thing, b-but I do, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It wasn’t just declaring their love. They talked. Talked for hours, really, bodies plastered to one another as they confessed fears and desires and pasts. Everything.

He is tired of talking. Buries his face on the back of Tommy’s neck and inhales, feels the man in his arms burrow closer to his chest and Buck wishes he could bring him closer, fused to him, to hold, to keep.

“I love you,” Buck whispers against the warm skin of his boyfriend, matching the quiet of the room, of the night. “I love you.”

Tommy stutters out a breath and Buck’s arms wrap tighter around him. The power three simple words have is exhilarating, terrifying. 

He holds his breath as Tommy starts shuffling, first away and then around before he takes back the space he left. Buck thinks he can see Tommy’s blue eyes, soft and sparkling with tears, mirrored on his own. 

“I love you,” Tommy whispers and Buck nuzzles into the hand that he brings up to his face, a large, warm hand. “I love you so much.”

His chest is a blazing inferno and Buck feels too large for his own skin. Tommy’s arms around him fan the flames and control them all at once, bring him back into the present just as much as they prepare him for the future. 

Their future. 

As Buck wraps his arms around Tommy’s body, eliminating any space left between them, he clings, holds, grabs. Makes a silent promise to keep him, no matter what. He knows what it feels like to lose Tommy and he doesn’t want to go through that again, never again.

As Tommy clings, holds, grabs, back, he hears the same promise.

They fall asleep in a warm bed.

---

5 years, 10 months and 9 hours after the breakup

He wakes up first. 

Tommy wakes up right after.

They both heard it, feet falling onto the hardwood floor.

Buck scratches his husband’s scalp, dropping a firm kiss onto the side of his head, wedding ring flashing in the rising sunlight. Tommy hums content, nuzzling against his neck and dropping a kiss there, his hand running against his side, under the loose t-shirt, the golden band warmed from sleep teasing at his very-well-known ticklish spot on his ribs.

Buck smiles.

They know practically everything now.

“Good morning,” Tommy mumbles, looking up at Buck with a bright smile that begs for a kiss. He gives into the silent begging. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning,” Buck smirks, hearing the rushing footsteps down the hall. “I don’t think that’ll matter much as soon as she makes it through that door.

Tommy laughs as the doorknob rattles a bunch before their 5 year-old daughter finally manages to get it open, a bright beautiful smile on her face that manages to outshine the sun.

“It’s my birthday!” She declares with arms outstretched and far too awake for 6 in the morning.

Correction, 6 year-old daughter.

“Happy birthday, baby!” Buck grins, holding out his arms for Tommy to sit up and giving silent permission for Piper to crawl onto the bed.

“Happy birthday!” Tommy smiles back, pulling her onto his lap while her legs end up on Buck’s.

“What are you guys still doing in bed? It’s my birthday!” She crosses her little arms over his chest and gives them her most impressive pout, more impressive that Buck’s own. 

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him and he knows what he would say - “Are you sure she isn’t yours?”. They've had this conversation many times. Piper was a safe haven baby that had spent the better part of a day at the 118 before Child Services managed to get there. Buck was the man behind that day - he took care of her, held her, fed her. It was torture to let her go but he wasn’t ready. He was barely ready to take care of himself so soon after the breakup.

Two years ago, Piper was returned to the foster care system. 

Buck had done his best to keep informed of how she was doing. Joan, the social worker responsible for Piper’s case, had reverted to giving him the same answer every time he called. That “the baby is in good hands and she’s doing well” and that’s all he knew for almost four years. He still remembers the day he got Joan’s call - remembers being shocked at seeing the woman’s caller ID, remembers almost burning the pancakes for that morning’s breakfast, remembers how Tommy had found him almost biting his lip raw. 

Most of all, he remembers telling Tommy what Joan had told him - that the baby, Piper, was given back into foster care and that they were full and since Buck cared so much, would he consider becoming an emergency placement? 

Tommy, aware of the whole situation - of how attached he became to the baby during such an emotional time, of how he had ran into Joan a couple of weeks after and talked to her about the baby again, of how he had gotten her number, of his weekly calls -, didn’t hesitate to support his husband through it. Their house was big enough to accommodate a 3 year-old. He remembers Tommy’s supportive smile as he agreed, of their teeth clashing against each other as they smiled into a kiss. 

He remembers Piper’s first day at their house. He remembers the way Tommy and Piper made drawings over the coffee table, the way she’d stand on her stepladder to help him around the kitchen, the way she started to smile more, laugh more, talk more. He remembers the day they painted her room yellow, only to switch it to green, and then blue, until they decided on a rainbow wall that caught the sunlight. He remembers the first time Piper called him “daddy” in the middle of a laughing fit, remembers Tommy’s face when she very casually asked “daddy” to pass her the yellow crayon while the two were coloring in the living room.

He remembers the day they signed the papers to make Piper an official Buckley-Kinard, the way her blue dress matched their ties, the smile on their family’s faces, the happy tears in his and Tommy’s and the wide grin in Piper’s when she ran into their arms. He remembers the day they became a family.

And as he smothers his daughter’s face with kisses and cherishes her giggles and the low rumble of his husband’s laughter, he remembers the laughter still to come, the kisses, the love.

“Come on, daddy,” Piper finally pushes on his face as he laughs. “We have a lot to do!”

Tommy laughs as he helps Piper jump off the bed safely before she begins to pull on his hand towards the bedroom door. “Yeah, come on, daddy.” His husband urges holding out a hand for Buck to take.

He takes Tommy’s hand, as if he would ever refuse, eager to start their birthday plans - birthdays were special occasions. Tommy pulls him towards his chest and Buck’s arms wrap around his neck. “That’s my line,” Buck whispers against Tommy’s ear, relishing the pleased hum from his husband with a smirk.

Before their lips can touch though, Piper uses all of her 6 year-old strength to pull on Tommy’s hand. “Come on, come on!” Her very commanding tone is too adorable and they exit the bedroom wrapped in excitement and laughter.

He wouldn’t mind waking up to this everyday. He wants to.

And with a smile, he remembers.

He can wake up to this love, this laughter, this family, every day. 

Tommy smiles back at him. “What?”

A loud “NO! Please, stop!” woke me up. I found myself lying in bed in the apartment of Lennox, my fast pounding heart immediately calming back down. I was safe. No danger around. 

But then I looked around and knew what was happening. The relationship with Lennox and me was new, it still scared me for a moment, when I found him next to me, suffering from his nightmares. 

“Hey, everything is okay, Len.” I sat up and slowly stroked his cheek. He was panting heavily and out of reflex tried getting my hand off of him. “GO! Leave me alone!” he shouted. 

Seeing him like this for the third time now, made me feel even more impressed by my boyfriend than I already was anyways. Through seeing his mom die in front of him at the young age of 11, he did not only suffer from bad dreams, but also panic attacks and a bad mental health. 

Still, he kept on living a normal life, lived in a big apartment and was head of his own publishing company he inherited from his mom. 

How can a person so broken, live a stable life? I stroked over his blonde, curly hair and tried calming him. “I´m here, you don´t have to be scared.” But I could feel his heart was pouding unbearably fast once I laid my hand on his chest. 

I need to wake him up, before he hurts himself. I experienced a nightmare of his a week ago where he stoke out of all directions, not only hurting his knee by hitting the wall, but I unknowingly ended up as a target as well.

Softly, I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Wake up, Lennox. It's not real.” Again, I laid a hand onto his cheek and slowly rubbed over it. His entire body tensed up under my touch, it made me worry to see him this hurt in front of me. No person deserves to go through this sort of personal hell. Ever single night.

“Len, it's just a dream.” I said again, hoping to at some point reach him. 

“NO! Please, no!” 

“Shhh… I am here for you.” 

Thankfully, he opened his eyes and sat up in a sudden movement and the scared look in his eyes made my heart shudder. 

“Ivy.”  my name out of his mouth will always send a warm wave of happiness through my body. Especially when it sounds like the safest place in the entire world he could possibly imagine turning to. 

“Lennox.” I smiled. My hand still covered his cheek and he took his own to rub over mine. Sweat covered his forehead, he looked exhausted. 

“You're cold.” He commented, the worry in his eyes visible.

“What do you think I am, when you scared the shit out of me?” It was partly meant as a joke and partly serious. “I didn't know what to do, I was this close to calling your Ophelia.” His older sister always knows what to do, if he didn't wake up a second ago, calling her in the middle of the night would've been the first thing I had done. 

“Sorry.” He whispered, his eyes only lying on me, like I am his savior. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't ask for this.” 

“But you don't deserve this, you should not be waking up from my nightmares.” 

I chuckled in disbelief. “Are you joking? I am so lucky to have you. You are the best man I´ve ever met, Len. I wouldn't want to change anything about this. About us. Ever.” 

With every word I said, the small smile on his lips grew bigger and bigger, before he leaned forward and covered his lips with mine, surprising me. 

I melted into the kiss, putting my hands on his shoulders to pull him closer to me.

He buried his hands in my light brown hair, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

His tongue met mine and I got lost in a world where it was us, Lennox and Ivy, against the rest of the world, until he pulled away and reminded me of reality. 

“I´m really tired.” 

I nodded. “Same. Let's at least sleep for the next few hours.” 

Lying back down, he softly touched my bare arm, creating goosebumps all over. Did he know about the effects he had on me? “Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“For being there every time I wake up in the morning.” he said, his voice quiet.