So, guess I'm making a little series out of this. I keep thinking of bucktommy moments I wish I could see, so why not write them. Post S8, wishful S9 thinking. No Plot, just vibes. I'm going for fluffy and wholesome but can't promise some angst or smut will sneak in eventually.
Part 1 |
It was a Saturday, a rare day off for the both of them. Tommy sat at the dining table with his old-man newspaper—as Evan loved to tease him about—glasses slipping down his nose as he flipped through the sports section when a sharp bang on the counter made him glance up.
On the counter top sat a neat little row of ingredients and he watched, curious, as Evan rooted around in the the lower cabinets, until he popped up with the Kitchen-Aid in his hands.
Uh-Oh.
Tommy’s stomach twisted. On one hand—whatever sweet dessert Evan had planned was bound to rock his world. On the other—he’d heard all the stories by now. Evan baked when he needed to keep his hands busy, when he was trying not to think too hard.
Tommy sifted through the last few days, searching for anything he might’ve missed or done. Nothing came to mind.
There was Evan’s grief over losing Bobby, an ever present wound, but these days he usually resorted to cooking when he was really missing his father figure. As for them, they hadn’t argued recently. Most of their so-called arguments—towels left on the floor and a puddle of water by the shower (Tommy) or forgetting to do the laundry and take out the trash in time for collecting (Evan)—were less about conflict and more about winding each other up until they landed in bed for some very effective “make-up” sex. This wasn’t one of those times, though.
“Sweetheart?” he asked, clearing his throat to get the other man’s attention.
“Hmm?” Evan answered, distracted as he muttered over his recipe notebook.
“Everything okay?”
“Yup.” Evan’s reply was quick, a little too bright. He set a bowl down and started measuring out flour.
Tommy waited him out, patient, until Evan finally set the flour down.
“Alright, no. Everything is not okay.”
Tommy’s eyebrows shot up. That wasn’t ominous at all. It could mean anything from we're out of sugar to the world is ending. “Wha—”
“I invited Eddie and Christopher over for dinner today.”
“Okay,” Tommy said slowly, confused. “That’s great, babe. I haven’t seen Christopher in ages.”
“Yes, right” Evan exclaimed before his face dropped into a scowl. “Except not great.” He huffed, cracking an egg too hard against the counter and spilling it into a bowl.
“It’s…not great?” Tommy echoed, officially baffled.
“No, Tommy. Because this is the fifth time I’ve invited him over and he’s come up with some bullshit excuse not to. First time, fine. Second time, okay, bad luck. Third time, I could still tell myself it was coincidence. But five times, Tommy? Five?”
“Um…”
“I just—I thought,” Evan worried his bottom lip before looking at him. “I thought we were fine. Sure, things are awkward sometimes, and we really haven’t talked about… well that. (Tommy had strong opinions about Eddie’s anger but now wasn’t the time) “But we’ve been slowly getting somewhere. I don’t get it.”
Evan looked so crushed, Tommy almost wanted to rush out and drag Eddie back to the house, kicking and screaming if he had to.
“Did I do something?” Evan asked in a small voice, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Tommy was out of his chair before he’d even thought about moving. He turned Evan gently toward him. “Hey, no. Sweetheart, you haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Then why?”
Tommy took a deep breath. They’d promised to be open, even when it was scary. He weighed his words, then decided to just say them.
“I think…maybe it’s me.”
Evan’s head snapped up. “What?”
Tommy sighed. “You’ve hung out once or twice after work, right? Been to his place and out for drinks. So what’s the common denominator?”
“You think—” Evan swallowed hard. “You think he doesn’t want to come to our house.”
“More that its because I live here too, yeah.” Tommy kept his voice soft, careful not to sound reproachful. It wasn’t something he was hung up on anymore. It had hurt at first—how easily Eddie had dropped him, and then never bothered again—but Tommy had made his peace with it, for Evan.
Evan’s face crumpled. “He—he hasn’t reached out at all since we got back together, has he?'“
“No,” Tommy admitted. “But to be fair, neither have I.”
“I just wanted us all to spend time together, like we used to. And, I—I wanted you to see there’s nothing there. I know we’ve talked about it, I don't have to prove it, but—”
“Baby.” Tommy framed Evan's face in his hands. “Back then, I shouldn’t have said what I did. It wasn’t that I thought you had feelings for him. I was jealous of the place he had in your life. Afraid I didn’t matter as much to you as you did to me. But you set me straight—so to speak.” He said dryly.
That earned him a chuckle.
“Well, you were being dumb,” Evan pouted, before sighing. “And so was I.”
Tommy hummed. “But we got there in the end. That’s what matters. Hey, I love you.”
Buck made a happy little sound, cheeks pink as always when Tommy said those words. He leaned in, resting his forehead against Tommy's. “I love you too.”
Tommy brushed his thumb along Evan’s jaw. “I’ll text Eddie, invite him over for some Muay Thai. Think the guy just needs to let out some steam.”
“T—Tommy, you don’t have to—”
“I know. I want to. Besides, it won’t be free. You'll be playing nurse and taking care of the bruises.” He pressed a quick kiss to Evan’s forehead and headed off to find his phone.
From behind him came Evan’s alarmed voice. “Wait—whose bruises? Tommy?”
Tommy chuckled under his breath, already thinking of all the ways he was going to make Eddie pay for some of his past transgressions.
