As We Go Along - An Angsty BuckTommy Christmas Fic
Summary:
Rated G
Buck still bakes every time he thinks about Tommy. And he thinks about Tommy a lot. In fact, he thinks about him so much that sometimes the man manifests in the things Buck creates without him even trying. Especially with Christmas just around the corner. Canon Compliant
âSleigh bells ring, are you listening?
In the lane, snow is glistening,
a beautiful sight,
Weâre happy tonight,
walking in a winter wonderland.â
A 1950âs crooner belts out on the radio that Buck has turned down to two, barely enough to register. Heâs more focused on rolling out the light brown dough he had cooling in the fridge overnight until it was nice and stiff. He takes handfuls of it out and rolls it into a nice, tight, ball before slamming it down onto his floured counter. The kitchen is an absolute mess; this is probably the eighth batch of cookies heâs made in as many days.
And he knows why. He knows why he keeps pulling out the kitchen aid. He understands why he keeps his phone close at hand while his heart pitter patters every time a notification goes off, even though he knows it wonât be⌠Him.
Buck shakes his head, refusing to go down that road. With the wooden rolling pin that⌠that he had bought for him, he starts the arduous process of getting the dough thickness just right. He goes over it again and again, determined that it be perfectly round because something has to go right. Once satisfied, he turns to look at the array of cookie cutters that he has and simply stares. Itâs like his mind goes blank as he zeroâs in on the traditional gingerbread man.
Reaching for it, he runs his finger along the blunt edge, mind wandering. Itâs hard to believe that itâs Christmas already. Just a few months ago he had been imagining what it was going to be like to have a man by his side for the biggest holiday of the year for the first time. What was he going to buy him for a gift? Would they spend time with Buckâs parents, or his pseudo family at the 118? Would he⌠Would he have kissed Buck under the mistletoe, or told him that was why even though Buck knows heâd kiss him any time, anywhere?
Throat burning, he yanks himself away from those thoughts and gets back to the task at hand. With precision, he cuts out as many men as he can before rolling the dough up and beginning the process all over. He takes his time, going at it methodically, until he canât make any more. The crooner on the radio is now singing about Frosty and his exploits.
When he glances at his counter, he blanches, realizing that heâs made way more cookies than he intended. Thank God firefighters loved cookies because heâs not sure what heâd be doing with them otherwise. Shaking himself out of whatever melancholy heâs headed straight for, he gently sets each cookie on a baking tray and starts placing them in the oven.
For the next hour, Buck is given a reprieve from haunting thoughts. He loses himself in a book heâs been working on for weeks - one that isnât something he and Tommy promised to read together - only stopping to switch out trays. He sips at a Merlot Maddie recommended, enjoying the slight tartness. The smell of ginger spice and cinnamon fill every nook and cranny of the loft and it feels like comfort.
Once the cookies are baked, and cooling, filling every free spot on his counter, Buck makes himself something small to eat. He turns off the radio and trades it for the TV, heart squeezing each time he passes by some sports event. He hears something about the Lakers and almost turns off the TV because itâs too raw. Too much, too soon.
Finally itâs time for the decorating part, and Buck hasnât a clue what he plans to do. Decorating has always been his least favorite part of the process. Itâs too many decisions; too much pressure to make each cookie unique instead of just slathering different color frostings over the whole thing and calling it good. Buck hates making those kinds of decisions. But what does it matter? Itâs not like heâs trying to impress anyone anyway, so who cares if he does just that?
He splits his little cup of homemade whipped frosting into six different color bowls and adds a few drops of food coloring to each one. Once theyâre whipped and mixed in, he lets himself fall back into a trance-like state as he decorates. His mind is completely empty. He doesnât think. He doesnât feel. He just does. And itâs incredible.
Until he wakes up from the dream and looks down. The first tray is just like heâs planned - a single color of frosting slathered across the entire cookie. The next is made with a bit more care and effort, though still minimal. By the third, his little gingerbread army has more defined, discernible features. And by tray number four? Well, by tray number four Buck is seeing an uncanny resemblance to a hot firefighter pilot.
Buck is no decorator extraordinaire but trays five through seven are most definitely the man he lost. The one that was so scared he walked away before he could get hurt and shattering Buck into a million pieces that, just like Humpty Dumpty, couldnât be put back together again.
Dropping his piping bag, Buck slides to his knees as tears cascade down his ruddy cheeks. Thunking his head against the cupboards, his body shakes with sobs as the rug of the world feels like itâs pulled out from under him yet again. How can it still hurt this much ? Why canât the tractor beam be fading and letting him move on? Tommy wasnât his first.
⌠But God how he wishes Tommy couldâve been his lastâŚ
Broken like heâs never been before, not even when Maddie abandoned him to be with Doug, Buck curls into a fetal position on the floor and leaves the floodgates open. He doesnât try to hold back his voice as he lets all his hurt, and pain out.
On the couch, where heâs left his phone, he doesnât see it light up. Doesnât see Tommyâs text bubble as it comes and goes until a single word comes through. â Evan. â
The cookies never make it to the firehouse. They never make it past his lips. Even through all the pain, Buck canât stomach the idea of hurting anything made in the image of his greatest love. And greatest heartbreak.
