Work Text:
The chill in the Los Angeles air was unusual, biting just enough to make Buck pull his hoodie tighter around himself as he stepped into Tommy’s house. The usually mild December weather had decided to take a page from the East Coast’s playbook, and Buck wasn’t mad about it. Days like this practically begged for cozy blankets, oversized mugs, and an excuse to stay in.
Tommy, already clad in thick socks and a soft sweater, greeted Buck with a kiss and a smile. “You made it just in time,” he said, gesturing for Buck to come in. “I was about to start making my grandmother’s hot chocolate.”
“Hot chocolate?” Buck’s eyes lit up. “Do I smell marshmallows too?”
Tommy chuckled. “Patience, babe. Good things take time.”
Buck followed him into the kitchen, the warm, spicy aroma of cocoa already filling the space. Various ingredients were laid out on the counter—cocoa powder, milk, heavy cream, sugar, a small jar of cinnamon, and what looked like a bar of high-quality dark chocolate. Tommy moved with practiced ease, pouring milk into a saucepan and setting it to warm on the stove.
“So, what makes this hot chocolate so special?” Buck asked, leaning casually against the counter.
Tommy raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a sly smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Oh, come on,” Buck groaned, crossing his arms dramatically. “You’re not seriously going to gatekeep hot chocolate, are you?”
Tommy chuckled, stirring the milk as it began to steam. “It’s not just hot chocolate, Evan. It’s my grandmother’s hot chocolate. She guarded this recipe like it was the crown jewels. I’m just upholding the family tradition of mystery.”
Buck pouted, sticking his bottom lip out in a way that Tommy pretended not to find adorable. “So, what, I just get to enjoy it and never know the secret?”
“That’s the idea,” Tommy teased, reaching for the cocoa powder.
Buck leaned closer, craning his neck to peek at the measuring spoons. “Is it the cinnamon? I bet it’s the cinnamon. Or is it the chocolate? Wait, is it—”
Tommy shot him a look, and his boyfriend threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll just sit here and pine for the mystery.” He moved to the small breakfast table by the window, where a cozy blanket was draped over one chair.
As Tommy worked, he couldn’t help but smile at Buck’s theatrics. His boyfriend had a way of filling even the quietest moments with energy, and it was one of the things Tommy loved most about him. He added the cocoa powder, sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon to the saucepan, whisking until the mixture was smooth and fragrant. The grated dark chocolate came next, melting into the liquid and turning it into something rich and velvety.
By the time Tommy poured the hot chocolate into two large mugs and topped them with whipped cream and marshmallows, Buck was practically vibrating with anticipation.
“Finally,” Buck said as Tommy placed a mug in front of him. “I’ve been dying over here.”
“Drama queen,” Tommy muttered affectionately, giving him a quick kiss and sitting down across from him with his own mug.
Buck took a careful sip, his eyes widening as the flavors hit his tongue. “Oh my God. Babe, this is… wow. It’s not just hot chocolate—it’s an .. experience.”
“I told you,” the pilot replied smugly, taking a sip from his own mug.
Buck set his cup down and leaned forward, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, now you have to tell me. What’s the secret? Is it the chocolate? The cinnamon? Did you do something weird, like add chili powder or something?”
Tommy shook his head, feigning nonchalance. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”
“But Baaaaaaabe,” Buck whined, drawing out the syllables like a petulant child.
“Evaaaaaan,” Tommy replied, mimicking his tone.
The two stared at each other for a moment before the curly haired man broke into a grin. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m very persistent. I’ll wear you down eventually.”
Tommy laughed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping their hot chocolate and watching the rain patter against the window. The sound of the rain, the warmth of the mugs in their hands, and the soft glow of the fairy lights Tommy had strung up around the living room made everything feel perfect.
Eventually, Buck spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You know, I never really had a recipe like this growing up. My mom wasn’t exactly the ‘homemade hot chocolate’ type.”
Tommy’s expression softened as he reached across the table, his hand brushing Buck’s. “Well, now you do.”
Buck looked at him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Tommy hesitated for a moment before standing and walking back to the kitchen. He returned with a small notebook, the edges of the pages worn from years of use. Sitting back down, he flipped to a page filled with neatly written notes in an older hand.
“You’re really going to tell me?” Buck asked, his eyes widening.
Tommy nodded. “You’re part of my life, sweetheart. And that means you’re part of this now, too.”
Buck took the notebook reverently, reading over the ingredients and instructions with a mixture of awe and gratitude. “Cinnamon, vanilla, a pinch of salt…” He looked up at Tommy, his grin wide. “You’re a softie, you know that?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Tommy said, though his smile betrayed him.
Buck stood, walking around the table to pull his boyfriend into a hug. “Thank you,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s temple.
Tommy hugged him back, his arms wrapping securely around Buck’s waist. “Anything for you, drama queen.”
They stayed like that for a while, the sound of the rain and the warmth of the moment wrapping around them like a blanket. By the time they pulled apart, Buck’s grin had returned, full of mischief.
“So, what’s next? Your grandmother’s secret cookie recipe?”
Tommy rolled his eyes, but the laughter in them gave him away. “One recipe at a time, Evan.”