Buck drops the pan he's been scrubbing into the soapy water and careens around the corner into Tommy's living room. Tommy is standing on the loveseat, fists clenched and raised to his jaw. Buck's had plenty of experience getting to see visual demonstrations of the phrase 'pale with fright', but in this context, on his large, strong, first responder boyfriend, it drops his stomach down to the vicinity of his knees.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his dishwashing gloves dripping on the hardwood as he looks to the windows for an attempted intruder. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye, too fast to see what it is, and Tommy shrieks.
Buck stops cold. He feels the familiar flush of adrenaline - but whatever it was, it was so small, it couldn't be an intruder-
He looks up at Tommy, nearly shivering in fear on his furniture.
His gloves continue to drip soapy water onto the floor.
Buck doubles over in laughter.
"Evan!!" Tommy cries. "This isn't funny!"
Buck tries his hardest to get a word in, he does, but he can't help it. Tommy looks terrified, still, but also affronted, and the combined affect reminds Buck of a displeased cockatiel.
"There it is! Get it!!" Tommy shrieks again, and Buck has to rest his hands on his knees to stay upright, heaving great gulps of air in the midst of his laughter. He doesn't even care as he leaves wet handprints on his own knees, the denim cold and wet against his skin. Every time he thinks he's got himself under control, he looks back up at Tommy and loses it all over again.
"Evan, come on," Tommy says - and if Buck didn't know him better he'd say he sounds petulant. "Get it, please."
Buck takes a deep breath, then another, and manages to calm himself down to giggles. "Babe- baby," he says between snickers, "it's- it's more scared of- of you than you are of-"
"Evan Buckley, if you know what's good for you, you will stop that sentence right now and get the mousetraps from the garage."
"Yes, dear," Buck says, his voice cracking. He can't stifle his giggles as he heads to the garage, dropping his dish gloves on the counter on his way.
When the living room is covered in traps and Tommy still refuses to get down off the furniture, Buck wraps his arms around his hips and rests his chin on Tommy's stomach to look up at him in all his embarrassed, terrified glory. They stay like that until they hear the tell-tale snap! of a trap going off, at which point Tommy descends, blushing, accepting Buck's offered hand without making eye contact.
Buck kisses him all over until he's laughing, until his blush recedes and he starts pushing him away, griping about the dead mouse killing the mood.
Buck grins and kisses him just a little bit more.
