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Buck is grating parmesan when Tommy comes in with a bright smile and looking especially sinful in tight jeans and a burgundy sweater that Buck knows is delightfully soft and hugs Tommy’s shoulders and biceps in all the right ways.
“Hey, babe,” he says, toeing off his shoes and dropping his keys on the table by the door.
“Hello, handsome.”
Tommy grins and saunters over to him, loose-hipped, pretty blue eyes shining with warmth and humor. He’s so gorgeous, Buck sometimes wonders if he’s real.
He attaches himself to Buck’s back, slinging an arm around him and burying his face in Buck’s neck. Buck leans back, tucking himself against Tommy’s chest, tension he didn’t realize he was holding seeping out of him with his boyfriend close and wrapped around him. Tommy is a giant cuddly teddy bear and doesn’t mind when Buck clings to him. In his long, long list of favorite things about Tommy, that is definitely near the top.
“Dinner will be ready soon.”
“It smells great,” Tommy says, kissing his shoulder, then leaning in to dip his finger in the pot.
Buck smacks his hand away. “Hey! I don’t know where that finger’s been!”
Tommy grins and sucks the sauce off his finger. “I know where I’d like to put it,” he says mildly, and it’s the casual tone that has Buck blushing and ducking his head, hiding his pleased smile and trying valiantly not to think about Tommy naked and between his spread thighs.
“Not before dinner,” he replies, and Tommy laughs, pressing a too-quick kiss to his cheek. “How does it taste?”
“Could use some more salt.”
“You say that about everything.” Tommy is very serious about his salt. Buck would call it an addiction if Tommy wouldn’t give him the sad face.
He shrugs and digs his chin into Buck’s shoulder, fingers brushing random patterns on Buck’s hip. “Most people skimp on salt.”
Buck pats his arm placatingly. “Okay.” But he grabs the grinder and adds more salt. Tommy kisses the side of his neck in thanks, lips lingering this time, warm and soft against Buck’s pulse point.
“You’re very good to me,” he murmurs.
“Mm.” He waits a beat, then elbows him. “Now go away so I can finish cooking.”
Tommy laughs and plants one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, then backs up. He hops up onto the island, bracing his hands on the edge, and his attention—solely on Buck, with a weight he feels curling around the back of his neck and settling on his shoulders—well, it tells Buck with a subtlety of a halligan between the eyes how this night is probably going to end.
“So you’re just gonna sit up there and watch me, huh?” he asks and grins as Tommy laughs, the laugh that’s a little too loud and sounds like a kicked goose and makes Buck unreasonably happy and fond. “I see how it is.”
“I like watching you,” Tommy says simply. “It’s hot.”
“You’ve seen me cook before.”
“Yeah and it was hot then too.” Tommy grins when Buck glances over his shoulder at him. “What can I say?” He shrugs, kicking his heels against the cabinets. “I like watching you be competent, whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Ah.” Cheeks heating, Buck stirs the sauce more vigorously than he should and some splashes onto the stovetop. “Good to know.”
They’ve been together for months now, but it’s still new enough that Buck still wants to impress the guy, even if he knows Tommy doesn’t care about that kind of thing. He’d be happy with pizza or eating leftover Chinese takeout straight out of the container while they pretend to pay attention to whatever show is on the TV. But Buck is incapable of not trying too hard so. Complicated pasta recipe it is.
The difference is, with Tommy, Buck feels like his efforts are appreciated, not because he’s doing something for Tommy but because Tommy cares about him. Buck will admit that what first drew him to Tommy was the muscles and pretty eyes and his gorgeous mouth that so easily turned Buck inside out, but there’s a thoughtful, loving, sweet man under all the swagger and confidence, someone who feels a lot, even if his default is to come at the world with sarcasm and a mild smile. In some ways, he’s been easy to crack. Buck learned very quickly that he likes craft beer and falls asleep to old Cheers reruns, that he sings in the shower and the car, that he hates when people leave the caps off pens and hasn’t ridden a bike in almost two decades. But they were four months in before he told Buck about the alcoholism in his family and how he almost went down that road, closeted and scared and hurting, and how he used to spend days at a time alone as a kid until his best friend Adrian’s mom found out and convinced him to come over whenever he needed to, how he’d wish he could just stay there all the time. Buck’s heart aches for that little boy and the carefree childhood they both missed out on, but every new thing he learns, those small nuggets of info and imperfections that make up Tommy, just cause Buck to fall a little harder.
“You’re very cute when you’re concentrating. And the tight shirt under the apron is working for me.”
“Wore it just for you,” Buck says over his shoulder and is rewarded with Tommy’s beautiful eye crinkling smile.
Buck throws in some more spices and pops the garlic bread into the oven while Tommy tells him about his shift last night, which was the usual blend of sitting around waiting boredom and the heart-in-your-throat, try-not-to-screw-this-up buzz along your ribs. At least when Buck experiences that crazy rush, his feet tend to be on something solid if not always on the ground and not hundreds of feet in the air, flying in a tin can that could go belly-up if something goes wrong. Everything went right for this shift, though, and Buck smiles listening to Tommy ramble about his fellow pilots and the pile of thank you cards they received after a structural fire last week. Tommy’s voice always rises in pitch when he gets excited, and sometimes he talks so fast that Buck has to put a hand over his mouth and tell him to breathe, something he never expected from Tommy’s everyday, unhurried pace. But it doesn’t matter what he’s saying; Buck will listen.
Grabbing a spoon out of the pot, he dips it into the sauce, then turns toward Tommy. “Here. Taste,” Buck says, shoving the spoon at Tommy. He immediately opens his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick the sauce off and Jesus Christ. There is no reason for him to drag his tongue along the curve of the spoon or wipe the corner of his mouth with his thumb like that. Buck shifts. Tommy clearly notices the reaction he elicited, if his smirk is any indication, his gaze hot and heavy on Buck’s face. “Did I get it this time?” he asks, sounding embarrassingly breathless.
Tommy arches an eyebrow, lips twitching in a grin that doesn’t quite form. “Yeah. It’s perfect,” he says slowly and his voice, low and deep, feels like a caress, as if Tommy dragged his fingertips down Buck’s body.
“Okay.” He clears his throat, suppressing a shiver. “Good.” It takes enormous willpower to break eye contact and step away from Tommy.
Except Tommy doesn’t let him go far, hooking an ankle around Buck’s thigh and trapping him close.
“Tommy.”
Grinning, Tommy slips the spoon out of Buck’s hand and sets it on the counter, then slides a hand up Buck’s side to rest on his shoulder, the other arm snaking around his waist. “I don’t know what’s sexier, this cute little apron with the knot that’s just begging me to untie it.” His fingers close around the knot and tug, playing with it without attempting to undo it. He smirks when Buck huffs, and Buck can’t help his eyes straying to Tommy’s mouth. “Or the pasta sauce on your cheek that I kinda want to lick.”
“What?” Buck reaches up to rub the spot away, but Tommy beats him to it, grasping his chin and pulling him in, tongue swiping over his cheek. It should be gross, the way his tongue pokes into his cheek, but he’s learned a whole new array of turn-ons with Tommy, and the spark that lights up at the base of his spine is familiar now. He lets out a little noise and feels Tommy’s smile pressed against his skin.
Tommy nudges him with his nose, his palms lifting to frame Buck’s face, and captures his mouth in a soft kiss. Buck presses closer, drinking in Tommy's low moan. They’ve shared thousands of kisses since that first one on the other side of this kitchen island and while none of them have been quite so unexpected, they’ve all managed to blow his mind in some way. Kissing Tommy is…incredible, from a simple peck hello to a heated makeout session on Tommy’s plush couch and everything in between. Buck doesn’t think he will ever get enough.
But right now there’s dinner on the stove that Buck spent a long time preparing.
“Tommy,” Buck murmurs and pulls back, but Tommy chases his mouth, growling in frustration.
“Nope.” He tightens his arms and legs around him and rubs his cheek against Buck’s, the scrape of their stubble sending tingles down Buck’s spine. “Not letting you go.”
“I have to finish dinner.”
Tommy hums, nudging Buck with his nose and into another kiss, this one deeper and sweeter, and Buck melts into it, indulging Tommy like Tommy always knew he would. Tommy rucks up Buck’s shirt and splays a warm palm over his back.
Sometime later, the acrid smell of something burning hits Buck’s nose and breaks them apart. Buck glances back and thankfully doesn’t see smoke.
“I gotta—” He hooks a thumb behind him.
He kisses Buck’s jaw. “Mm, all right.”
“I don’t want to tell whoever shows up that I let my building burn down because I was too busy kissing my boyfriend.”
“Not a good look, professionally speaking.” Tommy holds on for a second, then relaxes his hold with a resigned sigh, mouth pulling into a pout.
Buck drops a kiss to his chin and steps away. Grabbing a couple potholders, he rescues the bread from the oven. It’s…not a complete loss but certainly inedible, the bottom blackened and top extra crispy. He jabs the oven off and tosses the potholders onto the counter.
“Guess we’re not having bread with our pasta,” he says. At least that’s still okay when Buck gives it a stir.
“Worth it,” Tommy says, and Buck can hear his shit-eating grin and cocky eyebrow wiggle.
“Can you set the table and get drinks?”
“Sure.” He lands on his feet with a quiet thud, light on his feet from years of muay thai bouts and moving around a firehouse bunk without waking up your fellow firefighters, unless you want shit rained down on you. He gives Buck a drive-by kiss to the back of his neck on the way by and goes to the cabinet where the deep pasta bowls are.
A hot zap of pleasure zings through Buck at that, at Tommy knowing Buck owns specific bowls for pasta and where to find them. That he’s comfortable in Buck’s space, and Buck is comfortable in his. He knows the door on the hall bathroom at Tommy’s house sticks when it’s especially humid and that Tommy’s favorite mug is a Care Bears one a cousin got him years ago, but he keeps it tucked at the back of the shelf so he won’t use it every day because he’s afraid the paint will wash off.
He sets the bowls by Buck so he can dish up, napkins rolled around the utensils and wedged between his fingers, then crosses to the fridge. “Beer? Or is it a water with a lemon wedge kinda night?”
Rolling his eyes, Buck tosses a potholder at him. It falls short, of course. “Beer is fine.”
He grabs a couple, then lays the napkins and utensils out, switching a placemat so they’re beside each other and not sitting across the table. Buck’s heart skips a beat or two, and he has to breathe for a second before he can pick up the bowls and walk to the table.
“Flowers and candles?” Tommy says, mouth curving into a slow smile like he’s trying not to show how pleased he is at the gesture. “You’re really trying to wine and dine me, huh, kid? Or beer and dine me, but that doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
Buck snorts and stops Tommy from picking up his fork, bringing his hand close to kiss his knuckles. “Nothing but the best for you, sweetheart.”
The smile breaks free, sweet and soft, maybe a bit surprised. He cups Buck’s jaw, fingers tripping gently over his stubble. “Thank you.”
He flushes and those three important, terrifying words gather in his throat. He’s felt them for weeks now but pushed them back, worrying it was too soon or that it was just intense infatuation, but no. It’s true and it’s real, and someday soon that love is going to escape.
Buck knows his heart will be safe with Tommy.