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[Buck’s instagram reel]: We’re in Buck’s kitchen and there is a stand mixer on the kitchen island with various ingredients surrounding it. The mixer isn’t running and there is white foamy liquid in the bowl. There’s also a thin thread of gray smoke rising from the top of the mixer.
[voiceover]: “So, uh, that happened. Guess no vegan swiss meringue buttercream frosting for me today. You know, I actually prepared for not getting it on the first try but I thought I would screw it up and have to start over. [The focus moves to two unopened cans of chickpeas] Not that the mixer would burn. [Camera switches to the front, showing Buck’s disappointed face] Not cool, KitchenAid. Not cool at all.”
[end of the reel]
As Buck scrolls through stand mixer reviews, a sudden knock on the door startles him. He frowns - he’s not expecting anyone and half past eight is a little late for unannounced social calls - and goes to open the door. First thing he notices is a giant red bow. He blinks and realizes the bow is slapped on top of a box. And the man holding the box…
“What–” Buck starts but has to clear his throat. “Tommy?”
“I saw your instagram reel about your mixer breaking down.” Tommy holds the box a little higher. “Thought you could use this.”
“You follow my instagram?” Buck asks and immediately cringes at himself. They haven’t seen each other since the break up two months ago and when Tommy shows up out of nowhere with a brand new mixer , this is the first thing Buck decides to ask about.
“Can I come in and put this heavy box somewhere before we talk?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, of course.” Buck steps aside to let Tommy in. Tommy goes to place the box on the kitchen island and fusses with the bow for a second. When he turns to face Buck, his face is stoic, not betraying anything but Buck still knows him. He can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes are guarded and how his jaw is clenched tight.
“Do you want a beer?” he offers, closing the door. He half expects Tommy will decline and leave but instead, Tommy’s shoulders relax a little and he nods.
“Yeah, sounds great.”
Buck gets two bottles from the fridge, painfully reminded that he’s kept buying beer from Tommy’s favorite brewery all this time. Judging by the long look Tommy gives the bottle when he takes it from Buck, it’s not lost on him, either. Buck feels the tips of his ears heating up in embarrassment and hastily turns his attention to the box.
“So?” he prompts Tommy as he takes a closer look. The mixer is one of the pricier ones, he was actually thinking about getting it for himself for Christmas. Tommy even got the color right – mint green, the prettiest one in the set. Buck swallows around the unexpected lump in his throat. “I didn’t even know you used instagram. You never liked social media.”
Tommy rubs the back of his neck. “Steve and Jordan bullied me into getting it. Their flying courses gig is going well so they wanted to direct some of their customers my way. Donato showed me some of your earlier videos and when I was setting up my profile, you showed up in recommendations.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I’ve always liked watching you in the kitchen.”
It is a big deal to Buck, but he nods and opens the box, setting the bow carefully to the side. He starts to take out the various parts – not only there’s a whisk and a dough hook, but also a flat beater and a pastry beater. And two bowls. All in stainless steel.
“Wow,” he says quietly.
“You like it?” Tommy asks and when Buck looks over at him, he’s smiling at him and Buck can’t help smiling back.
“I really, really do. But why?” he asks, unsure what to make out of this situation. A small part of him, somewhere deep inside, knows what he wants it to mean but Buck refuses to acknowledge it.
“You were so excited about making the swiss meringue… thing.” Tommy looks away, taking a long drink of his beer.
Buck opens his own and takes a few sips, waiting for Tommy to elaborate. When he realizes it’s not going to happen, he pushes. “So you saw my reel and what, just dropped what you were doing to go buy me a fancy new mixer and deliver it personally?”
Tommy just shrugs again.
Two months ago, this would have been the sweetest gesture. Two months ago, Buck would have jumped into Tommy’s arms the second he put the box down. Two months ago, he would have been already assembling the mixer and yapping about its features.
But it’s not two months ago.
“It must have been expensive, I’ll send you the money,” Buck says, already reaching for his phone, and Tommy makes some sort of a noise, something between offended, exasperated, and… sad.
“Evan.” The name pierces through Buck’s chest right into his heart like an arrow. Nobody’s ever said it the way Tommy does. “It’s a gift.” He pokes the red bow for emphasis. “You are familiar with the concept of gifts.”
Buck’s throat is so tight he can only nod.
“I should go.” Tommy puts the half finished beer on the island and heads for the door.
“Wait,” Buck says before he can even think about it. Tommy stops and looks at him over his shoulder. “Do you want to stay and help?”
“Yeah?” Tommy breathes out, turning around and leaning against the door.
“Yeah,” Buck says and smiles, something delicate fluttering in his chest. “I’ll get you an apron.”
And it’s so damn easy , falling into the dynamic of making something together. He puts on the apron from earlier and hands Tommy the dark blue one, not daring to reach for the kiss the sous-chef one he got for Tommy a million years ago.
“So you’re making the meringue from the chickpeas water?” Tommy asks, watching Buck drain the water from the can to a small saucepan. He looks sceptical and Buck doesn’t blame him - he was apprehensive about it the first time, too.
“It’s called aquafaba, it has basically the same traits as egg whites,” Buck explains as he adds sugar. “Can you wash the bowls and the whisk, please? And you can put on some music, if you want.”
Tommy nods and reaches for his phone. The bluetooth speaker on the windowsill dings and a moment later, soft jazz starts drifting from it. Buck realizes it’s their cooking playlist. He doesn’t say anything, but it adds to his confusion. He takes a deep breath – as sneakily as he can – and puts the saucepan on top of a pot filled with some water that’s sitting on the stove, turning the heat on. He stirs slowly, listening to the familiar sound of Tommy humming to the music.
When the sugar in the aquafaba dissolves, Buck transfers it to the mixer. Tommy already put it together and looked through the manual, so they turn it on and Buck leans against the counter, watching the whisk turning the liquid into foam.
“And you’re a full vegan now?” Tommy asks, mirroring Buck.
“Yeah. Well, there are slip ups - did you know that most vegans say the hardest thing to give up is cheese?” Buck looks up at him, excited to share one of his recent discoveries. “There are studies suggesting cheese is kind of addictive. Not in the same way alcohol or drugs are, but there are some happy chemicals released in your brain when you eat it. And it’s so readily available and it’s such a big part of our cuisine – from snacks to main dishes all the way to desserts – that it’s super difficult to just cut it off your diet. And the alternatives can’t yet really replicate it, not in the same way meat alternatives or plant milk can.” He grins at Tommy. “Bobby lets me cook more often at work and he actually likes working out vegan versions of his own recipes with me so I have a lot of space to experiment.”
“That’s amazing, Evan.” Tommy smiles at him, nose scrunched and eyes crinkled and for a second, Buck can almost believe they’re still together. Then the second’s gone and Tommy looks away. Buck ignores the sharp pang in his chest and turns the mixer off to check if the meringue is done.
“I heard you’re supposed to test it by turning the bowl upside down over your head,” Tommy says, his tone teasing, and Buck shoots him an unimpressed look.
“We tried that with whipped cream and it didn’t work out well, did it,” Buck reminds him and turns the mixer back on.
“Depends on your definition of well,” Tommy mutters as he raises his beer to his lips. A spark runs up Buck’s spine.
Whipped cream running down his face and Tommy laughing so hard he’s doubled over. Buck pouting even though he wants to laugh, too. Tommy scooping up some of the cream from Buck’s cheek and licking it off his fingers, maintaining eye contact. “That’s not sexy, that’s unhygienic!” Laughter finally bubbling out past Buck’s lips. Tommy dragging him to the shower, tenderly washing Buck’s hair before getting on his knees. Having to stop to buy a canned whipped cream on their way to Maddie and Chimney’s place because they wasted too much time to make another batch of homemade one.
Buck meets Tommy’s eyes and mentally smacks himself - this is not the time and place to think about their past sexy times. He has no idea what they are doing here and dirty thoughts aren’t going to help him figure it out. Why would Tommy even bring it up?
Wait, is that it? Did Tommy come here hoping to get laid? Because if he did, he’s out of luck and also delusional. Who does he take Buck for, thinking he can buy him with kitchen appliances? Have some fun and leave again? And then what, wait for Buck to post about his fucking toaster breaking down, just so he can show up again? Does he think he can redo Buck’s entire kitchen just to–
“Are you alright?” Tommy’s words interrupt Buck’s thoughts and he realizes he’s working himself into a frenzy. He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.
“Peachy,” he says. Tommy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. The silence between them is charged now. Buck thinks he can feel Tommy’s body heat, even though there’s a good few feet between them. He shifts his weight as he checks the meringue again and realizes he subconsciously moved closer to Tommy. This must be how magnets feel.
“Sorry?” Tommy says.
“What?” Buck stares at him.
“You said something about magnets,” Tommy says.
“No, I didn’t,” Buck denies. Shit, did he? If he’s already talking out loud without meaning to, how is he going to survive finishing these cupcakes?! He takes a look around, searching for some distraction. “Can you cut the butter into cubes?” he asks, gesturing at the cutting board and said butter. “About an inch.”
“So how are Maddie and Chimney doing? I heard they’re expecting another kid?” Tommy takes mercy on Buck as he starts on his task. They catch each other up on their lives through finishing the frosting, making the cupcake batter and putting the first batch in the oven. Buck hasn’t even realized how much has happened in those two months - or maybe it’s all the tangents he goes on. Tommy’s never minded him digressing a mile or two before circling back to the original topic.
How is it possible to feel so at ease with the man who broke his heart? Because the pain is still there, dull and constant, sitting just behind Buck’s breastbone. Yet he has no problem laughing with Tommy, teasing him when Tommy tells him about twisting his ankle when he jumped out of the chopper, sympathizing with him when he tells him about a man who signed up for a flying lesson thinking it was a great way to overcome his fear of flying. Mid-air, he had a panic attack that Tommy had to de-escalate while landing the chopper.
“So yeah,” Tommy concludes. “I decided to only give lessons to professionals, preferably other firefighters from now on.”
Yet you kept your instagram account and check it often enough to come here in less than two hours after I posted my reel, Buck thinks. The oven timer beeps and Buck picks up a dish towel to take the cupcakes out. He’s still distracted, though, and as he reaches into the oven, the side of his hand makes contact with the hot metal.
“Ow!” he yelps and jerks his hand away.
“Baby?” Tommy is by his side in a split second, taking Buck’s hand into both of his and assessing the damage. Buck’s heart trips over itself. The accidental pet name, the gentleness of Tommy’s big hands, the rapt attention with which he inspects the little burn. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.
“It’s okay, it’s nothing,” he says and Tommy scoffs.
“It’s not nothing but I don’t think I need to drag you to the ER. Go put it under cold water for a second, I’ll take the cupcakes out.” He gently shoves Buck towards the sink and makes a show of getting the oven mitts instead of a dish towel. Buck rolls his eyes but does as he’s told. Tommy takes out the baking tray, puts it on the cooling rack and slides the second batch in the oven. Then he goes to the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with a first aid kit and a fresh towel.
As Tommy approaches him, Buck turns the water off, knowing full well it would be useless to resist Tommy’s fussing. Tommy places the kit on the counter and extends his hand expectantly towards Buck.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Buck says, even as he places his hurt hand in Tommy’s.
“And you know I want to,” Tommy replies as he pats Buck’s hand dry with the towel, careful not to cause any more pain. Buck watches his face as he treats the burn, applying the ointment, and something in him aches. Other than Maddie, nobody’s ever treated him this tender when he got hurt. Showing no signs of annoyance, only care and fondness… and love.
“Thanks,” he says when Tommy’s done, voice thick with emotion. Tommy just nods. They’re quiet for a moment and Buck desperately searches for a topic to talk about, anything other than why did you leave me or why do you still care or what the hell is you being here supposed to mean .
“Would you like some hot cocoa?” Tommy asks, apropos of nothing.
“Hot cocoa?” Buck repeats dumbly.
“Yeah, I suppose you have some cocoa powder for your baking? Unsweetened. And what is your stance on honey? We can make do with sugar but I know some vegans are okay with it,” Tommy says - or is that rambling? Buck should know, he rambles all the time.
“I have unsweetened cocoa,” he says slowly. “And honey. And oat milk.”
“Great,” Tommy says, clasping his hands but when Buck turns to reach for the cupboard, he stops him. “Let me. Just point at the right one.”
As Tommy gets the ingredients – “Of course you have the fanciest local honey that’s only sold in one shop in this whole city.” – Buck wonders if he’s dreaming. When he started yet another of his lonely evenings trying a new recipe while pondering who he could impose it on, this was not even at the bottom of possible outcomes.
Realizing he’s staring at Tommy (more specifically, his hands as he pours measures two cups of milk. God, they are such sexy hands), he looks away and finally finds a safe-ish topic to talk about when his gaze lands on a rainbow flyer stuck on his fridge. “Have you heard about the department’s first draft of Pride Month activities yet?”
“In passing,” Tommy says, moving to the stove. Buck follows him and hops on the kitchen island, hissing when he puts pressure on his burnt hand. Tommy looks at him over his shoulder. “Be careful.”
“Are you planning to volunteer at any?” Buck asks when he settles in a comfortable position, dangling his feet in the air.
“Not sure yet,” Tommy says, a strange edge to his voice. Buck gets the impression Tommy isn’t too keen on the topic. But what the hell, it was his idea to come here, so he can’t hold it against Buck if he decides to keep pushing.
“I think you should do the Human Library. You know, tell people what being a gay firefighter used to mean and what it took to change it so now queer firefighters can be out on the job and feel safe–”
“You’re doing it again,” Tommy interrupts, his voice too quiet for Buck to get a proper reading on it.
“Doing what?” Buck asks. Tommy doesn’t respond, mixing the cocoa powder and some honey into the warm milk. Buck recognizes this kind of silence - he knows Tommy isn’t ignoring him, just sorting through his thoughts. So he lets Tommy pour the cocoa for both of them, hand Buck his cup, and get on the counter beside him before he asks again. “What am I doing?”
“You’re acting like I’m some kind of a gay pioneer who single handedly changed the LAFD’s stance on gay workers,” Tommy says with a sigh.
“Well, not single handedly–”
“Evan,” Tommy cuts him off again. “I came out after LAFD had started to make regular appearances at Pride. If anyone should do the Human Library, it’s Hen. She was never ashamed of being who she is – and she’s gay, Black, and a woman in a male dominated profession,” he points out. “While she was telling Gerrard off, I was so deep in the closet I almost ended up in Narnia.”
“That was a wardrobe.” The words are out before Buck can even think about them properly.
“What?” Tommy gives him a confused look.
“Narnia was in a wardrobe,” Buck explains. “Not a closet.”
There’s a beat and then Tommy laughs. “God, I miss you so much.” He moves his arm like he wants to wrap it around Buck’s shoulders but stops himself abruptly. Every cell in Buck’s body screams at him to reach out, to lift Tommy’s arm and cuddle up to him like he used to. He bites the inside of his cheek to give at least some cells something else to worry about.
“Is that why you broke up with me?” Buck asks, barely louder than whispering. Tommy doesn’t say anything. Which is kind of an answer on its own. So Buck continues. “Because I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if it took you some time to come out. Hey, you remember how I panicked when Eddie ran into us on our first date?”
“That’s different.”
“How?” Buck asks stubbornly. Tommy takes another moment to think about his answer. Buck sips his cocoa, strong and sweet, and feels the warmth spreading through his body. It makes him crave the additional warmth of Tommy’s embrace even more.
“You panicked once,” Tommy says at last. “On your first date with a dude. You got left standing on the street by said dude. And less than a week later, you asked me to be your date at your sister’s wedding. You told me how you’d come out to her and to Eddie. And then, at the wedding, you came out to your family, friends, and coworkers at once via dragging me there by hand and letting everyone see we just kissed.” Tommy shakes his head and chuckles, but the sound is joyless. “How can you compare that to years of hiding, to getting engaged to a woman I didn’t have any feelings for? To needing to transfer to a whole nother station to finally gather the courage to stop lying to myself?”
And okay, when you put it like that, maybe Tommy does have a point. Not enough for Buck to relent, though.
“Times have changed, Tommy. I had it much easier than you.”
“Not that much,” Tommy objects, just as stubborn as Buck is. “I mean yes, DADT was still in effect when I joined the army and it got repealed just as I was leaving, but I didn’t come out to a hostile world. You treated me like I was one of the people who fought for marriage equality but I came out years after that fight was won. I’m no brave gay rights activist, Evan. I’m just a guy.”
That doesn’t change a thing, Buck wants to scream in Tommy’s face. Being just a guy is enough. Being you is enough.
But Tommy isn’t done. “And you’re… you’re so generous with your affection. It never mattered if I made you come so hard you blacked out a little, or if I threw a piece of crumpled paper to a trashcan a few feet away. You always looked at me with those goddamn wide eyes and I felt like I was on top of the world.” He laughs quietly and it’s lighter this time. “You said you liked how confident I was but that was eighty percent you. Do you have any idea what being the center of your attention does to a man’s confidence?”
The timer beeps again and Tommy goes to take the cupcakes out. Buck realizes he forgot they were baking. He quietly observes as Tommy puts the tray on the cooling rack beside the first batch.
“I guess I leaned a little too much into the idea of being the one who has it all figured out,” Tommy says, coming back and leaning against the counter across from Buck. “You were so sweet and earnest and it was really fucking easy to tell myself that I could be this perfect first boyfriend for you. Because I knew sooner or later, you would realize how much there is beyond just being with me. And I would let you go and be grateful for the wonderful time we had.”
Ouch .
“But with every moment we spent together, it became more and more apparent how stupid that idea was. I was lying to myself all over again. And to you. When you asked me to move in, I realized…” Tommy sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Living together, you would find out what a mess I really am. You would find out that not only I don’t really talk to my father, he actually disowned me for being gay. You would find out that I still sometimes cry about it. And you would find out about the dumb shit, too. That I’m scared of chickens and ducks and swans, or that I can be seriously superstitious about some things. And the image of a cool boyfriend would pop like a soap bubble.”
“And you thought that would make me not want you?” Buck asks, incredulous and, frankly, more than a little offended. Tommy sighs again.
“I tried telling that to myself for a while. But I know you too well,” he smiles at Buck, so soft Buck’s eyes sting. “No, I just didn’t know how to be anything else. How to be… me. And I knew that if you realized I was a fraud, you would be disappointed in me. And that, Evan,” Tommy looks Buck in the eyes and his gaze is so intense it almost knocks Buck off the counter. “That would break me.”
There’s a long moment of silence as Buck mulls over everything. It doesn’t explain everything and it sure as hell doesn’t make the break up any less painful but it provides context. He can’t help but remember what Josh told him all that time ago. You honor their scars. And you thank them.
“I’m proud of you,” he says.
“What.” Tommy’s voice is completely flat.
“I’m proud of you,” Buck repeats with more confidence. “Tommy, can’t you see? It doesn’t matter how accepting the world in general is, you spent most of your life in a hostile environment. You grew up with a homophobic father, you were in the army when it was officially homophobic, and then you worked under a captain who was also openly homophobic. And still, you did come out.” Buck slides off the counter and steps closer to Tommy, ducking his head to catch Tommy’s eyes. “And okay, that part about being my perfect first boyfriend is dumb and really fucking condescending but I can see where it came from. You’re a good person, Tommy Kinard. So I’m proud of you.”
Tommy opens his mouth and closes it again a few times. He shuffles on his feet, shakes his head and swallows a couple of times before he says, “This is so not like I pictured this conversation going.”
“You wouldn’t have had to picture it at all if you had just talked to me that day instead of breaking up with me and running away,” Buck points out because proud or not, he will not let Tommy get away with his bullshit.
“That’s fair,” Tommy concedes. “And I’m sorry. I was scared. I guess I fooled around and f– found out.”
Buck doesn’t miss the way Tommy stumbles over the last words. He raises his eyebrows and feels his lips quirking up. “That’s not how the song goes.”
“No.” Tommy laughs wetly and looks up at the ceiling, eyes sparkling. “No, it’s not.”
Buck steps a little closer. “It seems you have your pop culture references confused. First Narnia, now this…”
“Maybe I just miss you correcting me.”
“Oh, come here.” Buck can’t take it anymore. He grips Tommy’s chin and kisses him, just like Tommy did that first time. And it’s familiar – the way their lips move together, Tommy’s taste, his nose pressed against Buck’s cheek – but it’s also new. Tommy has never been this vulnerable with Buck. He’s gripping the front of Buck’s shirt like he’s holding on for dear life, like he never wants to let go. His lips are soft and pliant under Buck’s, kissing back but not taking the control. It’s so soft it breaks Buck’s heart in completely new and unexpected ways. He cups Tommy’s face with both hands, stroking his cheeks lightly and Tommy whimpers into his mouth, the sweetest sound Buck has ever heard.
When they break apart, Tommy immediately buries his face in Buck’s neck, taking deep breaths. Buck doesn’t have the faintest idea what to say. All he wants is to hold Tommy, to feel his warmth seeping into his skin like sunlight on the first spring day. He rests his cheek against the side of Tommy’s head and his eyes fall on the mixer.
“Tommy?”
Tommy doesn’t move, just hums, “Mmm?”
“Did you go to a store and bought the most expensive mixer they had?” Buck asks because something isn’t adding up. He’s just not sure what exactly it is.
Tommy shakes his head, the movement causing him to nuzzle further into Buck and instinctively, Buck squeezes him tighter. “You mentioned wanting to get a new one in a reel some time ago. People in the comments were recommending a few brands, so I did some research.”
There’s something about Tommy’s tone that makes Buck pull away a little so he can see Tommy’s face. “You researched what kind of a mixer I’d want?” When Tommy nods, Buck does some quick math in his head, trying to remember how far the closest store is from Tommy’s place and then adding his drive here… “Tommy, when did you buy it exactly?”
Tommy blushes – something Buck has seen only a couple of times – and steps back, folding his arms and hunching in on himself almost protectively. Buck tilts his head in curiosity.
“I came here to beg for a second chance,” Tommy says, not looking at Buck. “I’ve wanted to do that ever since I walked out on you, I just didn’t know how to do it. Bringing an olive branch seemed like a good idea.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Buck says but he feels something waking up in his chest and stretching its wings after a long nap.
“About three weeks ago,” Tommy says, still refusing to make eye contact.
“Okay,” Buck says slowly. “So why didn’t you come some time in those three weeks?”
“I tried a couple of times, got as far as two blocks away from here. But I chickened out every time.”
Buck is not sure why it feels so important but he needs to understand. “So what made tonight different? Was it just because my old mixer broke down and you saw the perfect opportunity?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Tommy says. He lets out a long breath and looks out of the window. Then back at Buck. “No, that’s not The whole truth. It was a good excuse to come but it also felt like the last chance, you know? Because you would buy a new mixer yourself and then what good would mine do.”
Buck nods a couple of times. You would move on , is what he reads between the lines. And maybe Buck’s baking spree has been a way to deal with the post-break up, not just killing time, distracting himself, and stopping himself from calling Tommy. Maybe in the process of baking, he’s been sorting himself out, mending his heart. And maybe it’s a good thing that Tommy didn’t come earlier. He’s right about one thing – the way Buck was looking up to him, following his lead like a lost puppy doesn’t sound like a sustainable relationship.
Maybe the Universe knows what it’s doing, burning Buck’s mixer at the right time.
“Do you have a shift tomorrow?” he asks and it’s Tommy’s to look at him curiously.
“No, today and tomorrow is my forty eight off.”
Again, the Universe.
“Great, I’ve started my thirty six this afternoon. We’re basically synchronized,” he adds, grinning. “We have some things to talk about.”
“Yeah?” The expression of hope on Tommy’s face is one of the most beautiful things Buck has ever seen.
“Yeah,” he confirms, reaches out and pulls Tommy into another kiss, just as gentle as the previous one.
Despite his best efforts, Buck fantasized about their reunion hundreds of times. In his head, it was usually full of hunger and lust, biting kisses and bruising fingers and yanking their clothes off on their way to the bed. Or the couch. Or any other horizontal surface. A couple of vertical ones, too. But as Tommy’s fingers run through his hair, Buck knows that this – this is how it was meant to go. This is what he wants, what he’s wanted for longer than he can remember.
When they run out of oxygen and have to break the kiss, they don’t go far. They rest their foreheads against each other, sharing breaths. “Will you stay tonight?” Buck whispers into the space between them.
“If you want me to,” Tommy replies, voice equally quiet. “I want to.”
“I do, too,” Buck says. “Can we go to bed and finish the cupcakes tomorrow?”
Tommy laughs and out of all times this night, this laugh is the purest, the most Tommy one. “You’re the chef here, baby,” he reminds Buck and the term of endearment lights up Buck’s heart like a Christmas tree.
“Confectioner.”
“I see you took my words about missing you correcting me to heart,” Tommy teases but then he becomes serious. “So you’ll give me another chance?”
Buck takes Tommy’s face in his hands again. “No. Ain’t nobody giving nobody no chances.”
“That’s too many negatives for one sentence.” Tommy covers Buck’s hands with his own.
“We’re not getting back together, we’re starting over,” Buck says, ignoring Tommy’s comment. “You’re no longer my first boyfriend queer idol, and I’m no longer a baby bi you need to show around. We’re just two guys. Dating.”
“I like that,” Tommy says. He looks so damn happy, wide smile, scrunched nose, crows feet and all. “I like that a lot.”
That’s when Buck knows with unshakeable certainty that he is in love with Tommy and that Tommy is in love with him. Maybe they’ll say the words tonight, maybe they won’t for a little longer. But they both know.
And that’s the only thing that matters.