Chapter Text
The sunlight sneaks past his blinds and catches the curve of his bare shoulder. Buck stretches, groaning softly, a faint ache in his joints from last night’s chaos. His head is fuzzy, but not painfully so — more like the lingering warmth of alcohol, laughter and heated lips pressed to his own. He blinks, and then smirks, fully aware of the mischievous thought that just struck him: he should probably send that picture.
After a few tries he finally settles on the perfect picture. It’s not a polished selfie or something staged. It’s just him with messy hair and his sheet half-tangled around his hips showing just enough skin to tell Tommy know he’s naked underneath. He’s smirking without meaning to, half-hooded eyes and the ghost of something smug curling at the corner of his mouth. He had managed to angle the phone just enough to catch the play the shadows and light against his abs.
Just figured you’d want to see what you missed out on, he types, before he can talk himself out of it.
The reply comes almost instantly. That’s one way of making sure I regret leaving you in that parking lot.
Buck grins, thumbs flying. i want coffee and you’re not here to bring it to me so we’re both missing out on all the fun ways this morning could have started
Three dots blink, vanish, then an address appears followed by: Door’s unlocked. I’ll get the coffee started. You just need to bring that grin.
A few seconds later another message comes through and maybe wear something easy for me to peel off you?
He laughs aloud, tossing the phone on the bed and swinging his legs over the side as he heads to the shower.
By the time he’s walking out the door, his pulse hums in sync with the memory of last night. The teasing, the flirtation, the accidental sparks that had ignited in the bar and spilled into the parking lot… it’s all replaying vividly in his mind.
As he makes the short drive to Tommy’s house, his chest is tight with the same anticipation that had him dizzy last night. His knuckles still remember the feel of leaning against his Jeep, of being pulled in.
By the time he’s at Tommy’s front door—he’s already grinning again. The door opens before he can even knock. There Tommy is, casual and confident, hair still damp from a shower, a soft T-shirt clinging in all the right places, smile teasing as he leans against the frame.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he smirks, reaching out to pull Buck into him.
“You could have seen me a lot earlier if you’d brought me home with you,” Buck steps closer, voice low, grinning.
They step closer at the same time, colliding into each other. The door clicks shut behind them as Tommy's hands brush deliberately over sensitive skin sending a shiver down Buck’s spine. It’s all thick fingers at his jaw and mouth on his mouth, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for air or thought. Heat flares low and urgent, their bodies pressed flush until he’s being walked backward into the bedroom. Every step is a promise: teasing, tentative, and charged with electricity.
Kissing Tommy again feels natural, inevitable, but there’s something different now. Morning light spills in through the window, catching the curve of lips, the flash of teeth, the faint dust of freckles across his jaw. Hands wander, exploring skin under fabric, fingertips tracing paths that leave goosebumps in their wake. The world outside fades to nothing — it’s just the two of them, tangled with the longing ache left from last night. Fingers hook in his shirt, tugging it up and over his head without ceremony. There’s laughter somewhere in the mess of it—breathless, reckless—and then more kissing, deeper this time, teeth grazing, hands roaming like they’re trying to memorize a map they already know by heart.
“Thank God you brought the grin,” Tommy murmurs, low and playful, brushing a thumb along Buck’s jaw. "I dreamt all night about tasting it again."
“And you didn’t even offer me coffee,” Buck retorts, voice rough with arousal and sleep.
Tommy laughs, soft and warm, and it vibrates straight through him. “it’s already in the bedroom.”
The teasing escalates naturally, whispering touches, skimmed kisses, half-laughs muffled against neck and shoulder, gentle but insistent pressure of hands and hips. The air smells faintly of coffee left cooling on the beside table, of the warm sheets he's pushed back onto, of Tommy — intoxicating and impossible to resist.
“Bet you can’t keep quiet,” Buck murmurs against Tommy’s jaw, his grin evident in the words.
Tommy snorts, tugging him closer by the waist. “You’ve known me less than twenty-four hours and already underestimating me? Rookie mistake, Evan.”
The name sends a warm shiver down Buck’s spine, so different in Tommy’s mouth—intimate, grounding. He pushes back with a smirk. “I’m not underestimating. I’m betting. And I like my odds.”
Somewhere in the chaos of limbs and laughs, Buck steals a moment to notice the sunlight catching Tommy’s hair, the way his blue eyes glint when he smiles, that perfect tilt of his lips when he leans in. The memory of last night’s drunk flirting, the playful smirks in the bar, and the breathless kiss in the parking lot all merge with this new, vivid intimacy, leaving Buck dizzy with want and fascination.
“God,” Buck breathes when Tommy presses a slow kiss to his throat, “you’re—this is—” He breaks off with a laugh when Tommy’s stubble rasps teasingly against his skin.
“Articulate,” Tommy teases, voice low and warm. “Real smooth, Buck.”
Buck shoves at his shoulder half-heartedly, but it only makes Tommy roll them until Buck is pinned beneath him, their laughter tangling in the sheets. “Don’t call me that,” Buck gasps between grins.
“Fine,” Tommy concedes, brushing messy hair back from Buck’s forehead. His smile softens. “Evan, then.”
The sound of it, quiet and reverent in the morning hush, steals the air from Buck’s lungs. He answers with a kiss—hungry, grateful, a little desperate.
Between kisses, they exchange playful jabs and laughter that turns to soft moans when fingers find sensitive skin.
“You look ridiculous,” Tommy says, tugging gently at a tuft of Buck’s bedhead.
“Says the guy with a rooster thing happening right here,” Buck shoots back, flattening a stubborn spike at Tommy’s crown.
Tommy leans in until their noses brush. “Guess we’ll just have to stay in bed. Keep anyone from seeing it.”
Buck grins into the next kiss, whispering, “Best idea you’ve had yet.”
Finally, when their breaths are ragged and skin flushed, Tommy leans back slightly, smiling at the messy, perfect chaos of them. “You’re trouble,” he says, voice husky.
Buck smirks, stretching for another fleeting kiss. “Only the good kind,” he murmurs against kiss-stung lips.
And in that moment, the memory of drunken flirting and that first parking lot kiss feels like a the start of a promise — messy, reckless, and utterly irresistible.