He was immediately baffled, feet frozen in place against the floor as the oblivious kid in front of him continued to overflow with questions about the ingredients he was tasting. He was hung over the pot, shirt stretched against his back like a beacon that Bobby couldn’t tear his eyes from.
“Buck.”
“Yeah, Cap?”
He let himself take a deep breath, eyes slipping closed for a second as he summoned the patience for the conversation he was about to have. Because, honestly? He should have noticed the way the t-shirt hung a little looser throughout the day, or the way the logo looked a little older, but it wasn’t until this moment that he finally caught on to what he was seeing and he wanted to drag him down toward the nearest mirror and smack him upside the head.
“Is that Tommy’s shirt?”
“Uh,” Buck clearly hesitated, for once unable to find words as his body turned around slowly with the spoon in hand as he realized he was caught red handed. “It’s a station issued shirt.”
“That's not what I asked, Kinard.”
He tilted his head to the side, watching the neck flush in a deep red and holding back the small part of himself that wanted to laugh at the way he was beginning to find this kind of cute.
“Yes, it’s Tommy’s shirt.” Buck admitted, dropping his head as he knew there was no way out of the truth on this one.
“Where did you even find that?”
“I kind of ransacked his closet?” The tone was high pitched, posing as a question, but filled with guilt that Bobby clearly had no rhyme or reason to care about or need. However, the whole situation was so unlike Buck that he had to take a moment to just come to terms with the fact that his firefighter was wearing Tommy’s t-shirt on shift.
“You ransacked his closet..” he repeated slowly, leaning sideways against the counter top so he could continue to stare at the man in front of him in disbelief.
“I miss him, cap,” he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing miserably.
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