11. sharing secrets
so this ended up being 3k of (sometimes literal) tooth-rotting fluff lol
As bad as the breakup and extended separation was, Buck can’t help but think that he and Tommy needed it. When they get back together, they both know how much it sucks to be apart and they’re willing to put in the work. They both bring their whole selves to the table this time, laid bare and open for inspection. Tommy stops running, stops hiding, and Buck slows down and asks questions. He accepts Tommy in all his complications the same way that Tommy accepts him.
And it’s not like everything that Tommy had been hiding from him was bad. A lot of them are little, exceedingly kind things that Tommy felt were embarrassing for his cool younger boyfriend to see him doing. Even now, he won’t make eye contact with Buck after he grabs his elderly neighbor’s mail from the mailbox and walks it up to her porch to hand it to her directly. He shrugs it off when he mows her lawn, too.
“She took a bad fall about ten years back,” Tommy explains. “She had surgery on her hip, but she was never really the same, and her kids moved to Portland. I have to do my lawn anyway, so I might as well keep going once I’ve got the mower out. It’s not a big deal.”
It’s not, but at the same time it kind of is. It reminds Buck why he fell for Tommy in the first place. Tommy loves to help people, whether he gets anything in return or not. He loves to be of use and to make people smile. Even on their disastrous first date, Tommy left not because he didn’t like how Buck stuffed him back in the closet, but because he didn’t want to be the cause of Buck’s obvious distress. He feels lucky that Tommy has relaxed enough to let Buck see this side of him again.
They’re spending a lot more time at Tommy’s house than they did the first time they were dating. The more time they spend here, the more of Tommy’s softer side Buck sees.
Tommy feeds a stray cat. Has for years, he says, even though it’s two months into their second try before Buck learns about it, when a lazy morning of slow kisses and gentle hands is interrupted by a demanding yowl from outside Tommy’s bedroom window.
Tommy drops his head against Buck’s neck and groans.
“Sorry,” he says against Buck’s skin. “I have to feed my cat.”
All Buck can do is smile. “You never told me you were a cat owner.”
“No one owns this cat, trust me.” Tommy unburies his face and shifts up onto his elbows. “She’s a strong, independent woman. I’m just the guy lucky enough to buy her a meal once in a while.”
“You do make a good breakfast,” Buck says, running his hands up and down Tommy’s biceps. “I can see why she keeps coming back.”
Tommy’s eyes are soft and fond as he looks down at Buck’s face. He leans in for another kiss, and then another, and they lose themselves in each other’s lips until another yowl echoes in through the open window.
Buck breaks the kiss with a laugh.
“Come on,” Tommy smiles. “Let me introduce you to the special lady in my life.”
Tommy leads Buck to the kitchen. He dumps a can of tuna onto a small plate, then heads for the front door.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he purrs as he steps onto the front porch. “You’ve been very patient this morning.”
The cat chirps at him, eyes fixed on the plate. She’s a brown tabby, remarkably small and slim. Her tail is only half as long as a normal cat’s, and her fur is patchy in places where her cuts have scabbed and scarred over. Still, she’s beautiful. She has bright green eyes that keep flashing warily towards Buck. He can tell instantly that she’s a survivor.
“This is Evan.” Tommy gestures to Buck with the plate of tuna. “He’s gonna be coming around a lot more so I want you to get comfortable with him, okay?”
Buck’s heart could melt out of his chest.
“Uh, hi- hi kitty,” he stammers out, weirdly nervous. “Nice to meet you.”
He crouches down and offers the cat his hand. She sniffs it, but when she finds that he has no food for her, she turns her attention back to Tommy. Her little tail twitches and she looks from the plate to the porch floor and back to the plate again. She could not more clearly be communicating what she wants from Tommy.
Tommy laughs. “Alright, pretty girl. I’m gonna let Evan feed you this morning, okay?”
He hands the plate down to Buck, who’s still crouching. Buck sets the plate down by their feet and watches the cat tuck into it like she’s never eaten before in her life.
“There you go,” Buck says softly. He risks a stroke along the cat’s back, which she allows.
“Wow,” Tommy says. “It took weeks for her to warm up to me enough to pet her.”
Buck shrugs playfully. “I guess she likes me more.”
Tommy runs a knuckle along the curve of Buck’s cheekbone and into the dimple that forms as Buck smiles into the touch.
“Who could blame her?”
— — —
Buck comes over after a shift one day to find Tommy in the bath with a mud mask on and a headband keeping his hair back. Tommy fixes him with a dead-on stare, challenging him to have a problem with it, and looking terrified underneath it that he actually will. Buck doesn’t, of course. He thinks it’s kind of adorable. He strips and climbs into the tub behind Tommy, letting his big body relax back against Buck’s.
“I started doing this with Patricia,” Tommy confesses, playing with the fingers Buck has splayed over his stomach. “The mask, I mean. It made her feel more normal after her diagnosis.”
They haven’t talked much about Abby. Buck is relieved that Tommy is bringing up that time in his life. He’s bursting with questions that he hopes Tommy is ready to answer.
“Did you spend a lot of time with her, just the two of you?”
“Yeah. Abby and I worked opposite hours sometimes, so it was just me and Patricia in the apartment. We watched romcoms and ate cookies and did mud masks. I really- I stayed with Abby as long as I did because of Patricia. I think some part of me loved Abby, but I know I loved Patricia.”
“I didn’t see you at her funeral,” Buck says. He would’ve remembered Tommy, not only as the ex-fiancé to his then-girlfriend, but also as the hottest man in any group of people.
“No,” Tommy agrees, tracing the tattoo scrawled along Buck’s wrist. “I regret that. I regret a lot of things.”
Tommy takes a deep breath in and lets it back out slowly. Buck can’t see his face, but he thinks Tommy is trying not to cry.
Buck doesn’t push. He gives Tommy a moment to come back to himself, the way Tommy has asked him to, so that Tommy doesn’t get overwhelmed. He tightens his hold on Tommy’s body. Tommy squeezes his hand. Then Buck continues.
“She thought I was you,” Buck says. “Especially towards the end. She’d get confused and call me Tommy, like, all the time.”
“Really?” Tommy asks, voice thick.
“Yeah. I think she loved you too.”
Tommy nods. His throat is tense as he swallows. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, but he grips Buck’s hand like a lifeline as he shakes. Buck doesn’t push. He holds Tommy and lets Tommy hold him back.
Some time later, when they get out of the bath, Buck gently wipes the mud mask off of Tommy’s face. It’s streaked with long, wet grooves from his eyes down to his chin. Buck tucks his thumb into Tommy’s cleft and holds him still as he presses slow kisses to Tommy’s soft, clean cheeks.
He likes this side of Tommy. He wants Tommy to know how much he appreciates being allowed to see it. He wants Tommy to know he’ll be gentle with him, even when he knows all of the things that Tommy has kept secret for so long. Maybe especially then.
Tommy’s answering smile is small and grateful, vulnerable and wonderstruck, with no hint of bravado or charm. He looks open and raw in a way that he never allowed himself to be during their first six months together.
He drapes himself over Buck’s back while Buck cooks them dinner that night and holds his hand while they eat it. Buck’s chest is warm and fluttery with the knowledge that Tommy feels safe enough to cling now.
— — —
Buck, it turns out, had been hiding some things too. Though if you’d asked him what parts of his childhood he’d been keeping close to his chest, the existence of marshmallow Fluff would not have even made the list.
“It’s like if marshmallows were kind of a liquid. But with a lot of air whipped into it,” Buck explains as Tommy skeptically eyes the dollop of white goo on top of the mug of hot cocoa that Buck made for him. “Try it. You’ll like it.”
Tommy shoots him another look before taking a sip. Instantly, his eyes roll back in his head and he moans.
“Oh my god. Why have you been holding out on me?” Tommy asks, voice thick with dramatized emotion and more than a little Fluff. “I thought you loved me.”
Buck can’t help but laugh. It’s been a long time since he’s had the sugary stuff—not since Maddie lived in Boston. It was pretty popular there, and while it wasn’t impossible to find in Pennsylvania, it wasn’t exactly the local go-to in Hershey for obvious reasons.
He’s never seen it in LA. He hasn’t even thought about it in years, not until his first December with Tommy. As he watched Tommy pile marshmallows on top of a mug of hot cocoa, he remembered visiting Maddie one winter when she was in nursing school, remembered her introducing him to the ‘local delicacy,’ remembered his eyes going wide as he took his first sip of hot cocoa with Fluff on top. At sixteen, he couldn’t get enough of the stuff. He’d packed as many jars of it into his suitcase as he could to take back to Hershey.
His sweet tooth has mellowed out considerably since then, but Tommy’s hasn’t. He knew Tommy would like it.
“I’m sorry,” Buck laughs. “I would’ve ordered it for you sooner if I’d thought about it.”
Tommy gives Buck a playful look, as if to say I should hope so.
“What other hidden gems is Boston hoarding for itself?” Tommy asks.
“I don’t know. I remember having some pretty good cannolis. They had little chocolate chips on the ends.”
Tommy groans the way he usually only does in bed or around a mouthful of spumoni.
“There’s a whole part of the city that’s still pretty Italian,” Buck says. “You’d like it. We, uh, we should go sometime.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Take a trip together. Maybe in the winter. I wanna see what you’re like in the snow.”
Buck can see it now: Tommy in a nice coat and scarf, gloved hands tucked into his pockets, eyes watering and nose red from the cold, miserable and bitchy and beautiful. He’d grip Buck’s arm tightly to keep from slipping on the ice, even though they salt the sidewalks well in the touristy areas. He’d fit in so well with his layers of blue collar shirts and loose-fitting jeans, his boots and his snarky attitude.
Tommy scoffs. “No, you don’t. There’s a reason I stayed in California. I don’t even like going up to Big Bear.”
Buck doesn’t push. If Tommy isn’t ready to fly cross-country with him yet, he isn’t going to make an issue of it. They’ll get there when they get there. He shrugs and takes a sip of his perfect, overly sweet cocoa, starts reading the label on the jar of Fluff, and then immediately stops because wow, it’s really just pure sugar, isn’t it?
“Maybe the fall, though,” Tommy says, and Buck’s eyes are back on him in an instant. “When the leaves change. It could be romantic.”
He looks nervous, like Buck will run at the first rejection, the first change of plans. Like Tommy asserting a preference while still meeting Buck more than halfway is the thing that will send Buck packing. Just the opposite, really. Something strong courses through Buck’s veins. It’s impossible to say whether it’s sugar or love or a potent combination of the two.
Buck beams. “The fall sounds nice.”
“Boston, though?” Tommy asks, cautiously curious. “Not Hershey?”
Buck shrugs. “Boston was an escape from Hershey. For Maddie, but- but for me, too. Hershey was… not good for either of us. Not that it’s the town’s fault, exactly, but my parents, uh- how- how much have I told you about Daniel?”
Tommy’s eyebrows pull together. “Who’s Daniel?”
So maybe Buck has a few more secrets left to share with Tommy, even after almost a year back together.
“Let’s, uh, let’s take this to the couch,” he suggests.
They take their mugs of cocoa over to Tommy’s big leather couch. Buck sits against the arm and Tommy pulls his legs over his lap, the way they usually sit when Tommy wants to watch sports and Buck would rather click around on his phone or computer. It’s cozy and intimate in the way that Buck has only ever experienced with Tommy.
Tucked up safe with his cocoa and the man who has only ever looked at him with kind eyes, Buck spills everything. His childhood and his parents and his sister and the ghost in his childhood house that never quite took shape until he turned thirty and found out why it was there. He talks about how he was made for spare parts and how the guilt of his failure to make himself useful still carries him through the world to some extent. He has forgiven his parents for their imperfections—especially the more he has experienced grief for himself—but the more he talks, the more he feels something rising in him, something bitter and sad and still achingly raw after all these years.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Tommy hands him a tissue, eyes filled with care and sympathy but not pity, never pity. Tommy holds onto Buck’s legs and keeps him tethered as he talks.
When Buck has said everything he has to say, he lapses into silence. It hangs in the air between them.
“So, not Hershey,” Tommy says, serious and teasing at the same time.
A laugh bubbles out of Buck’s chest, around the mucus and tears.
“Not Hershey,” Buck agrees with a watery smile.
Tommy drums his fingers over Buck’s legs, soothing them both.
“I get what you meant now, about Bobby being the father you never had. I’m so sorry, Evan.”
Buck’s instinct is to brush it off, to insist he’s fine and it’s all fine and it doesn’t still make him want to rip his skin off with grief sometimes. But they’re not hiding from each other anymore, so he makes himself nod and meet Tommy’s eye. The look Tommy is giving him is so soft and warm and understanding that another surge of tears rip through Buck’s body.
Tommy makes a small noise of sympathy and gathers Buck up in his arms, pulls Buck into his lap. It’s no easy feat, since Buck is so big, but Tommy makes it feel effortless. Buck clings and Tommy lets him, encourages him. He cradles Buck, pressing his lips to Buck’s forehead, until Buck gets his breath back.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Tommy says again, his voice low in Buck’s ear. “My childhood sucked too, but at least I always knew why. That’s… a lot to keep inside of you.”
“Yeah. And it’s- even now, it’s hard to remember sometimes that it wasn’t my fault. That I wasn’t a disappointment because of anything I did, or didn’t do. I was always going to disappoint them because I wasn’t him.”
Tommy presses a long, lingering kiss to Buck’s forehead.
“It’s so hard to imagine anyone thinking of you as a disappointment,” he says. “It’s so hard to think of you as anything less than a miracle.”
Buck makes a choked little noise in the back of his throat. He clings harder to Tommy and Tommy adjusts his arms around Buck to hold him even closer.
“I love you so much,” Buck scratches out.
“I love you too. I’m sorry I… I’m sorry.”
Buck knows what Tommy means. They’ve talked about it before. He’s apologizing for wasting time, for running away when Buck asked him to stay, for making Buck feel like Tommy didn’t want him.
In this moment, Buck couldn’t care less about how long they spent apart. As he revels in the feeling of being held, of Tommy being strong and solid and letting him melt against him without judgment, Buck can’t help but think again how much they needed the time apart. Before their breakup, they never had moments like this. Even when Bobby almost died when the cartel burned down his and Athena’s house, Buck’s instinct was to turn their serious conversation back to something flirty. He didn’t want to scare Tommy off the same way that Tommy didn’t want to scare him off.
They don’t worry about scaring each other off anymore. They’re stronger now, with their secrets laid bare and their vulnerabilities poking up to the surface. As miserable as those long months were, they led them here.
“You’re here now,” Buck says into Tommy’s chest.
Tommy squeezes Buck impossibly closer. It’s almost painful, but Buck feels like it’s the only thing holding him together. He never wants Tommy to let go again. The way Tommy is holding him, it seems like he’s thinking the same thing.
seriously though this is my exact kind of slow burn. I can't stand physical slow burn, I need them to be fucking or at least making out, but I want it to be years before they actually get together. there should be a specific term for this.
the number 1 rule of fanfic is have fun and be yourself. the number 2 rule is the average healthy adult male can lose roughly 2 liters of blood before dying.
Saw the movie today and thought — what if Peter was a depressed masc in her early 20s, yearning and coping in unhealthy ways for her canon event girlfriend at 17 😍
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