just a bunch of honkus ponkus

Buck tells himself it's possible to be friends with your ex. Tommy even makes it easy, coming over with food after Bobby's funeral, lending a shoulder to cry on, and taking Buck out to distract him. Out as friends, to be clear. Just friends.

It's driving Buck insane.

He thought that maybe if he explained what he had meant that morning after they hooked up, maybe — But, no, Tommy's eyes had shuttered, and he stiffly asked Buck that they not talk about it anymore, before Buck had even fumbled through half of his explanation, only getting so far as begining to explain that he used to depend on sex rather than emotional connection in relationships.

Buck can deal with the heartbreak if it means getting to be close to Tommy, though. No one else has really bothered to ask how he's doing after Bobby, and it's nice to have someone to lean on. It's just that he wasn't planning on leaning on Tommy quite so much.

"Are you sure?" Buck asks as they load the last box from what was now Eddie's place again onto Tommy's truck. "It's not too late to drive this all to storage instead. I can crash with my sister and Chim in the meantime — "

"Evan. They have a couch, a toddler, and a newborn. You're staying with me until you find a place," Tommy responds with a crinkly smile. "Your back will thank me; the mattress in my spare room is phenomenal."

"Yeah, I remember the one time —" The one time the wet spot on Tommy's sheets was too wet, and they slept in the spare room instead. Buck coughs and turns his head, looking away before he sees whatever face Tommy's making.

Silence stretches between them before Tommy snaps it with a clear of his throat. "You ready to go?"

Buck can only nod. He doesn't trust his mouth right now.

Unpacking and moving everything around takes forever, even with all of Buck's big furniture in storage. It turns out Tommy is incredibly particular about his space, and Buck feels his face get hot every time he remembers asking Tommy to move into his loft. Rewarding them with pizza and some of Tommy's weird craft beers seems like the least Buck can do as thanks.

They plop down next to each other on the couch, the pizza and beer spread out on the coffee table in front of them. Buck wins the coin flip for what to watch, and he talks through most of the documentary on armadillos. He's just about to tell Tommy about the reason why they have the weird little hairs when Tommy asks, "Want another drink?" Just like he always used to when they were dating, Tommy leans in for a kiss before he gets up off the couch.

With a smile and a nod, Buck instinctively leans in, too. They both freeze with a bare inch of space between them before Tommy jerks back. "Sorry — I didn't mean to — Sorry," he says, uncharacteristically flustered.

Buck can't stop himself from pouting. "You almost kissed me," he whispers.

"And you sound disappointed that I didn't," Tommy responds, voice just as soft, brows drawn together.

"Of — Of course. I told you I wanted to try again, you're the one —"

A bark of laughter interrupts Buck. "Evan, you told me you didn't have feelings for me, and then weeks later, you apologized and started telling me about your conquests from when you were younger." Tommy takes a breath, visibly calming himself down. "I'm the one who asked to try again."

"No, you're the one who left after, yeah, I said something stupid, but — but you didn't give me time to explain. Either time I tried." It'd do no good to get angry, but fuck if that's stopping Buck right now.

Tommy scoffs. "Explain what? That you —"

"That I love you, asshole!" Buck responds hotly. "That I speak before I think sometimes, and the wrong thing comes out, and I'm sorry, but I do have feelings for you!"

Tommy's shoulders stay tense. "You don't mean that."

It's Buck's turn to scoff. "Figures you'd decide what I feel for me, mister 'I'm your first, not your last'."

"That's not what I meant. I mean, you told me that you don't have feelings for me," Tommy argues. It sounds weak to Buck.

"No, I said I don't have feelings for everyone I sleep with, which is true, but — but I said it like that to hurt you after you implied that what, I'm in love with my best friend? Well, jokes on both of us, because I don't, and he's been a pretty shit friend recently." Tommy opens his mouth, and Buck rushes on, "And for the record, I mean it. I love — I love you."

Tommy leans back against the couch. "Oh."

"Y-yeah? Oh?" Buck deflates. "You know, this was all a really bad idea, I just — Please, just forget I said anything. I can't — I can't lose you, too."

Buck moves to stand, to run to the spare room with his tail between his legs, but Tommy's hand on his arm stops him. Turning, Buck watches as Tommy's jaw works for a moment before he finally says, "I love you, too," like it's torn out of him.

Buck doesn't catch his snort in time. Tommy stares at him. "Sorry, just, maybe try to sound a little excited about it, next time?"

Rolling his eyes, Tommy leans in for the second time that night. His lips are again just an inch away from Buck's, and he whispers, "Evan, I love you, too. I'm sorry, I was — I was scared," he admits, "but god, I love you —"