Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Buck swirls his spoon around in the last sip of his coffee, enjoying how the smooth finish on the mug reduces the annoying scraping sound to almost nothing. It wouldn’t have mattered that much anyway. He’s arrived way before the typical “morning rush” and the Diner is all but empty of customers. It’s just him, the dazed looking woman in the corner, and a trucker at the opposite end of the counter. 

The place is quiet, clean. Reminds him of the diners Maddie used to take him to when they both needed a break from their parents. Time, the ravages of a rough shift, your own personal demons, they don’t seem to have quite the hold on you as soon as you cross the threshold. An honest to god jukebox in the corner only adds to the ambiance, playing a steady stream of old love songs Chim would probably make fun of him for not knowing. Screw him if the Backstreet Boys and Bobby’s Springsteen concerts are as far back as his music knowledge goes. 

His thoughts are interrupted by Tommy, possibly the most well muscled restaurant proprietor in LA giving him a refill. He keeps meaning to ask the guy for his workout routine, but Buck always gets sucked into totally different conversations whenever the man’s eyes land on his. He probably shouldn’t be getting yet another round of coffee when he just got off a 12 hour shift either, but the thought of his empty loft depresses him. He’s out of food too and it’ll be another hour till the grocery stores open up. 

Tommy’s excellent company to pass the time. Usually. 

Buck clasps his hand around the rewarmed mug, frowning when he realizes Tommy’s only filled it halfway. He’s about to make a joke about being cut off when he catches him staring at a new arrival. The newcomer is equally well built, perfect tanned skin, a slightly mischievous smile, and an artfully tousled mess of black curls on the top of his head. He looks a little familiar too although Buck can’t place him. Occupational hazard, he meets so many people on calls, faces start to blend together. 

Tommy sets the coffee pot down on the counter and slides to the middle, looking at the man expectantly as he quickly opens the door again to shake his umbrella out underneath the awning. “Always nice to see you.” Tommy says coyly, and Buck averts his eyes when the man walks over and kisses Tommy over the counter. 

He ignores the ugly twist in his insides and busies himself filling his half cup with more creamers than he strictly prefers. His leg bounces nervously on the bronze bar that’s placed a little too high for how tall he is. Tommy is still entranced by what must be his boyfriend, and Buck feels his mood souring by the minute. There’s no point in staying here if the whole point was to distract him from his singleness. 

Part of him wants to stay until he can say a proper goodbye to Tommy, but the man’s far too wrapped up in the smirking man’s brown eyes. Instead, he drops the cash he owes on the counter, downs the coffee in one gulp, and heads back out into the L.A. rain. He slams the door of the jeep harder than he needs to and turns the key in the ignition. With this amount of traffic, at least the store will be open by the time he gets there. He’ll definitely have forgotten all about Tommy and his cocky boyfriend by then. Definitely.

Chapter Text

Sooner or later, Buck’s desire for a good cup of coffee and time away from the cavern known as his apartment grows stronger than his discomfort at the idea of seeing the PDA of Tommy and whatever his name is. He finds his normal spot on the end of the counter with just enough time to enjoy a cup or two before his upcoming shift. 

Tommy greets him with a warm smile. “Morning.” He says, the white and blue rag over his shoulder framing his pecs perfectly. Buck finds his mouth hanging open and hurries to fill it with the coffee Tommy has just poured for him. “Careful it’s-” Buck coughs, switching to the ice water to soothe the burn on his tongue. “-Hot.” Tommy finishes apologetically, but there’s a twinkle of amusement in the corner of his eyes. 

“Morning.” Buck sputters on the remnants of coffee still in his windpipe. “Very smooth, I know.” Tommy smirks and takes pity on him, setting the pot down and resting his forearms on the bar. “I don’t know.” He says thoughtfully. “Smooth can be… overrated.” Buck tries to ignore the pleasant thrum in his body at the loadedness of the comment, maybe it’s not even about whats-his-face anyway. 

Tommy’s thousand yard stare hardly does anything to dissuade him from the theory though. “Soooo…” Buck says, trying to get that sad resignation out of Tommy’s eyes. They’re not exactly friends, they barely know anything about each other, but there’s something wonderful about Tommy’s company that makes every day without at least stopping by feel like a waste. It’s the least he can do to try and cheer him up. 

“How’s business?” Buck asks, anchoring him to the diner and not wherever is making his eyes look so sad. The older man shakes his head. “Good actually, I just renewed the lease, got some new staff that are doing really well. It’s been good.” Tommy seems surprised at how positive his report is, a funny little laugh escaping his nose. 

“What about you? You looked a little down last time you came in.” Buck stares down at his lap, trying to push away the memory of Tall Dark and Smirky leaning across the counter like he owned the place. “Oh I’m good, just my shift was a little rougher than usual.” It’s not exactly a lie, L.A. always goes to hell in a handbasket when it rains, but all told he’s had worse. 

“I was happy this place was open though.” Buck tries to lift up the conversation and Tommy rewards him with a satisfied smile. “I’m glad. That’s why I made it a 24 hour ya know. I get what it’s like to have a horrible schedule and a shit day at work and not be ready to go home yet. Sometimes you need to go where your job doesn’t follow you.”

Buck hums in agreement. “I know what you mean. My boss’s wife always says that that’s why they make us wear uniforms, so we can take the job off at the end of a shift.” He blows on the coffee and takes a tentative sip. “That’s good advice,” Tommy concurs. “Much better than the ones my old boss gave me, that guy spread burnout like wildfire.” He snorts like he’s repeated an inside joke and Buck smiles at the unintentional choice of words. Tommy doesn’t know about his line of work and he’d like to keep it that way for the time being. His job had gotten in the way of too many relationships recently. “I don’t know if that always works though.” Buck wonders aloud. “Sometimes you need to feel like you’re out of time itself.” 

Tommy’s eyebrows fly up in amusement. “What do you mean?” Buck blushes. Flapping his arms out to gesture at the other customers hoping that Tommy will do another round and forget all about his musings by the time he gets back. “They’re fine.” The owner reads his mind. “They won’t be ready for a check for at least a half hour. Tell me what you meant.” Buck sighs and leans in, spurred on by Tommy’s easy encouragement. “Diners I mean, don’t you ever feel like they’re kind of their own dimension? You look around and you can’t tell what year you’re in. Like you’ve fallen through some kind of crack in time and space.”

“Are you criticizing my interior decoration skills?” Tommy teases. “I’ll admit they’re inferior to my hashbrown making skills but I didn’t think it was that bad.” Buck bites his bottom lip trying to contain the full breadth of his smile. “No.” He answers honestly. “I really like that about this place.” Tommy tilts his head fondly and Buck feels very floaty all of the sudden. “The decor and the hashbrowns.” He clarifies. 

Tommy laughs and Buck wants so badly to say something clever enough to hear that sound as much as possible. Hell he’ll even settle for dorky enough. Even when he’s come in here half dead from sleep deprivation, Tommy’s laugh has never felt mean or judgemental. 

“You want something to eat?” the owner asks, stretching back to his full height, and there’s not many men who make Buck feel tiny, and even less where that doesn’t feel like a bad thing. “Wish I could.” He answers honestly, making a weird finger gun with one hand and grabbing his wallet with the other. “I’ve got a shift though.” Tommy looks genuinely disappointed and Buck for perhaps the first time ever wants to call in sick and just stay here for….. Well however long Tommy would let him. 

Tommy waves him off with the dish rag and Buck tries to protest. “It’s on the house, Evan.” He says, fond but firm. The firefighter feels like he’s in danger of melting onto the floor, the use of his first name sounding so good out of the other man’s mouth. “You know my name.” He babbles stupidly, and it’s Tommy’s turn to blush. He taps on the credit card laying on the counter. “Oh, right.” Buck chuckles, hauling himself up from the stool. 

“Thanks for the coffee.” He breathes out, trying to tear his eyes away from Tommy. The man nods and there’s a strange electricity between them that Buck can’t describe. He turns for the door and ignores the tug in his legs to sit back down and spend the day talking the man’s ear off, the bell above the door chiming pleasantly when he steps back out into the real world.

Back behind the counter, Tommy's fingertips hover over the warm spot left by Evan’s elbow. “Come back soon.” He whispers, picking up the discarded mug and returning to work.

Chapter Text

The ding of the entrance bell is followed by an angry groan and the sound of crashing metal from the kitchen. Not groans of pain, Buck’s heard enough of those to know the difference, but of complete frustration. The swinging door behind the counter opens slightly to reveal Tommy at the grill, hands running through his hair and watching the contents of an omelette spill out onto the floor. 

One of the employees stoops to collect the fallen fry pan, which had wedged itself underneath the food prep station. “Boss…” The line cook says gently, putting a reassuring hand on Tommy’s shoulder and eyeing the walk in freezer. “Go let it out man, Norma can cover your tables for a minute.” 

Tommy is pulled from his aggravated stupor, nodding and closing himself into the walk-in. Buck averts his eyes as one of the servers, Norma, comes out to greet him. She’s good at her job. If it wasn’t for his prying eyes, her warm expression would never have let him know something was amiss in the kitchen. 

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Buck coughs and orders eggs, toast, and hashbrowns. Bobby’s been a little offended lately that he’s been neglecting breakfast at the firehouse, but he’ll find a way to make it up to him. He wants to stick around long enough to check on Tommy. Norma nods politely and hangs up the ticket, moving on to her other tables. 

After what feels like an age, Buck catches sight of Tommy, his shoulders slumped and his eyes glassy. The line cook from before pats him on the back and they exchange words Buck can’t make out from this far. He should probably stop staring. 

Finally, Tommy emerges from the back with a pot of coffee, his normal casual smile replaced with one that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. The owner catches sight of him, and Buck is delighted when the weight on the man’s shoulders eases up by a fraction of an inch. There’s a quirk in his brow when he comes to a stop in front him. “You’re not in your normal seat.” He almost frowns. 

Buck laughs but there’s a strange swoop to his stomach. “I have a normal seat?” Tommy rolls his eyes like it's a ridiculous question. “Yeah, hang on.” Tommy pours his coffee and takes the bowl of jellies, retreating back to the other ends of the counter and switching it out for the one in front of his, ok yeah his normal seat. He returns from his successful quest, setting down the retrieved bowl in front of Buck. “You only like the blackberry ones.” Tommy explains. 

Aaaaaaaaand another swoop. 

“I thought everyone else just hated them.” Buck scratches the back of his head, staring down at the pile of dark purple containers nestled in the wooden bowl. Tommy shakes his head sarcastically. “We go the extra mile here. How’s a man supposed to get on with his day without seven blackberry jellies on four halves of toast.” Buck’s jaw drops. “So I have a bit of a sweet tooth, jeez.” Tommy puts his hand to his chest like he’s testifying in court. “Evan, it’s a culinary crime. But lucky for you I’ve been at this too long not to have seen worse.”  

They laugh together and it sounds like Tommy needs it. But the diner is too busy and their conversation is too soon interrupted. “I’ll check in on you later.” Tommy promises, and Buck happily digs into his now arrived food. “ Seven. ” He sees Tommy mouth at him from across the restaurant. Buck just scoffs through a mouthful of hashbrowns, swinging back around to face front in the chair.  

He catches Norma’s eye and there’s an amused sparkle inside them he doesn’t have a real explanation for. She’s a bit of an enigma. You could tell him she was 19, you could tell him that she’s 35 and he’d believe you either way. 

Buck’s on the last few bites of his food when Tommy returns as promised. Things are quieter now. There’s more time to take it slow and have a nice conversation. “You seemed a little off earlier.” Buck fishes, not wanting to spook him. “Is everything ok?” He watches Tommy bite the inside of his cheek. “Not that you have to talk about it or anything, just… you know…” 

“Rough morning.” Tommy bails him out. A wry laugh that turns more into a wince stumbles out from his chest. “Went over to surprise my boyfriend last night and well… He already had company.” Buck drops his fork. “ What?! ” The growl in his voice surprises even him. He feels a hell of a lot more murder-y than he did a minute ago. There’s something else in there too, a joy he feels like he shouldn’t look too closely at. Maybe it’s the uncomfortable pleasure that at least he’s not single alone. 

There’s a sad resignation in Tommy’s eyes and Buck reaches out for his elbow on instinct. “I’m so sorry Tommy, you deserve better than that jackass.” The other man huffs. “The worst part is I knew. I knew in my gut that this would happen and I stayed with him anyway. It was stupid.” 

“Hey-hey.” Buck ducks his head to catch Tommy’s gaze aimed down at the floor. “Sometimes you gotta see where things go. There’s a million reasons why a relationship could go wrong, trust me I’ve tried about 900 thousand of them, but you have to try sometimes right? Otherwise what’s the alternative?” 

Tommy’s smile is so goddamn sad and Buck feels like he would do almost anything to get him smiling properly again. He doesn’t know why this guy has made such an impression on him in such a short time, but he sure as hell isn’t mad about it. “Oh trust me, I’m very familiar with the alternative.” Tommy jokes. “The alternative and me go waaaaaay back.” 

He looks like he wants to say more, his mouth shaping around words but not lending them any sound, shaking his head and wiping down the counter to Buck’s left. Norma already did it, but Buck supposes he just needs something to do with his hands. “Hey, talk to me, no judgement.” 

Tommy hesitates. “It’s stupid.” Buck takes another sip of his warm coffee. “I specialize in stupid. Come on tell me.” Tommy’s eyes dart at him, resuming his cleaning but starting to speak. “I just was looking forward to Valentine’s this year. I’ve never really had a proper one you know? Any attempts have turned out to be disasters.” 

And lo, a way to cheer the man up appears. “Did you ever choke so hard on bread your date had to perform an emergency tracheotomy on you in the middle of the restaurant?” Tommy blinks. Whatever platitudes he had expected him to say it wasn’t that. “Ummm, no?” Buck pulls down the collar of his shirt and raises his chin so the scar at the base of his neck catches the light. “Then I got you beat.” 

Tommy covers his mouth with one hand hiding a big grin. “No way…” he breathes out in disbelief, using the other hand to grasp Buck’s shoulder and run his thumb over the spot. He feels hot under Tommy’s touch, small but not in a bad way. Safe , his mind supplies, lowering his head back down. 

The other man seems to realize they’re still touching and he almost jerks his hand away. Buck mourns the loss. Tommy’s hands were warm and soft, capable in a way a first responder or healthcare worker usually is. Buck wonders what Tommy might have been before he bought this place. “Actually on Valentine’s day?!” Tommy asks by way of breaking the tension that’s fallen between them. Buck’s breathing falters another moment before he gets himself together. “God, I wish I was making it up.” 

Tommy laughs and Buck could spend the whole day listening to it. He’s just so damn easy to be around. “Ok, yeah. You win for sure.” They come down in a fit of giggles and Buck feels that pleasant soreness in his cheeks and stomach. The other customers start looking over at them and Buck straightens up in his seat, proud of making the often stoic owner cause a scene. 

“At least I can keep that in mind on the day.” Tommy sighs. “That’s the depressing part is this isn’t really the joint for a romantic dinner. If we were slammed I could just forget the date entirely.” Buck nods in sympathy. Firefighting is much the same. You get really good at filling up the hours when you have no idea when the next call might come in. He’s glad he actually likes his coworkers. Can’t imagine what it would be like to fill up those hours with people he didn’t connect with. Or worse, assholes like the ones Chim and Hen have told him about, Captain Gerrard ruling the house with an iron fist. 

“Listen,” He catches Tommy’s attention before he’s fully processed what he’s about to ask. “When’s your shift start that day? I don’t work anyway and I don’t know… I could maybe come in and keep you unbored?” The other man stills and tilts his head, like the question’s been delivered in an unfamiliar language. Buck feels his toes flexing and pressing in his shoes, energy with nowhere to go that wouldn’t end up attracting attention.  “A-as long as you don’t mind me taking up space.” He caveats. 

Tommy’s smile is soft and vulnerable, with handsome crow’s feet and curious eyes. “I never mind.” Buck’s lungs stutter, not knowing what to do with the volume of feelings he’s experiencing at such a simple sentence. It’s often hard for him to make genuine friends. Maddie loves him because they’re siblings. Hen and Chim and Bobby warmed to him eventually, but his 1.0 self threw up several roadblocks to that process. Eddie and him bonded quickly, but only after he’d spent their first shift being an absolute ass to him. 

Tommy feels like the first person in a long time to just…. Like him. And Tommy feels like the first person in a long time that he really really likes too. 

He glances at his watch and curses. “Shit I’m late. But umm. I’ll see you Saturday?” He grabs more cash than he strictly needs and lays it out on the counter. The man was just cheated on, he deserves the extra tip. Tommy nods, a little dazed. 

“Saturday.” He smiles, watching Evan’s jeep fade down the long L.A. avenue. 

Chapter Text

Buck arrives 5 minutes ahead of when Tommy’s shift is due to start, information he’d managed to charm out of Norma over the phone when he’d realized he’d run out of the diner before actually hearing the answer. 

The firefighter usually arrives in the early early morning, the 3pm crowd is altogether different. Old couples treat their grandkids to an after school appetizer and a hot chocolate, with red Valentine’s Day strawberry sauce on top. A family of what appear to be tourists take a little reprieve from the sight seeing in the corner near the door. Buck feels bad for them. They probably came to L.A. hoping for some sun and were met with threatening storm clouds instead. 

He slides into his normal seat, happy that it’s unoccupied. He’s only waiting thirty seconds before Tommy’s face bursts through the double doors. “Hey you.” The diner owner beams, two baskets of chips and salsa cradled on his arm. “Just a sec, I’ll be right there.”

Buck smiles back and watches Tommy go over to the table with the elderly couple, setting a chip basket down in front of each kid. He feels his heart swell when the man gives each child a high five, something about a great report card after a difficult test. “Keep up the good work.” Tommy gives a thumbs up and turns back toward Buck. 

He puts his elbows down on the counter and rests his head in his hands, eyebrows furrowed in thought. ‘So I thought I would propose something radical.” Buck mirrors Tommy’s stance, leaning in till he can almost feel the heat from the other man’s skin. “Hit me.” 

Tommy’s joking severity cracks a little, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile without his permission. “You know, service worker entertainment is a tough job.” Buck smirks too, schooling his features back into a dutiful mask and nodding. “And you know, a man might need a space to stretch out, rest a little. It’s a marathon not a sprint.” 

Buck nods again, engrossed in the way Tommy’s cleft bobs up and down with each additional qualifier. The man leans in even closer, his eyes traveling down from Buck’s eyes to his collar bone and back up again. “Do you wanna move to a booth so your back isn’t absolutely killing you by the end of this?” 

The younger man snorts, bracing himself on the counter. “It’s just risky enough to work.” He slides off the red vinyl seat and exchanges it for the corner booth, turning his body so he still can catch a glimpse of Tommy whenever he’s not in the back. He’s tall enough that he can pull his leg up onto the bench without getting his shoes on it, picking up a newspaper someone’s left in the windowsill. A profile on an actor who had recently died graces the entertainment section. No one he’d heard of, a guy named Brad Torrence who had partied a little too close to the sun apparently. He sighs and flips over to the horoscopes, calling out to Tommy when he’s back in view. 

“Hey what’s your star sign?” Tommy looks up like he’s trying to recall his own birthday, it makes Buck want to bake him something for the occasion. “Uhhhh Scorpio? That’s November right?” Buck gives him a thumbs up, scanning the page for the right entry. 

By the time Tommy makes his way back around, Buck has moved on to the comics. “Decaf or regular Evan?” Buck glances up, watching Tommy bounce the pots back and forth like a set of scales evening out. “Depends on how caffeinated you want me.” Tommy’s eyes narrow, getting a read on his customer. “I’ll take my chances.” He almost whispers, hiding the pot with the orange lid behind his back and pouring the regular. His cheeks flush with heat. It’s unusual that people want him at ‘full Buck’ levels and yet Tommy seems to almost prefer it. 

“Did you know Dennis the Menace has an evil British twin?” Tommy holds a finger up to stop him, and Buck panics before he realizes Tommy’s just putting the pots back on the warmers before returning to him. “Sounds serious.” He remarks, sliding into the seat opposite Buck. 

“And it was a total accident.” Buck says, getting ready to launch into the story. “I mean, twins usually are.” Tommy leans back and puts his arm up on the top of the booth. “One of ‘em might have been planned, but the other was more of a buy one get one free.” Buck giggles into his mug, shielding the sputtered coffee on his lip with his hand. 

Tommy’s sense of humor is subtle. Cutting without being mean. He imagines the man would be the type to stay quiet amongst a group of friends, picking the exact right moment to cut the tension and put the room at ease. Buck almost envies him. He’s always been way too talkative to pull that off. 

“So how does one birth animated twins accidentally?” Tommy asks, and it takes Buck a minute to even remember what they were talking about. “Oh yeah. So it’s 1951 right?” Buck waves his hand like he can switch the decade as easy as swiping right on Tinder. “Is it?” Tommy’s eyebrow dances upwards. “I’ll have to update my wardrobe.” Buck slaps his - Jesus - rock solid bicep and rolls his eyes. “Tommyyyyy.” He cries. “I’m sorry.” The man grins in a way that assures Buck he isn’t. “You were saying?” 

Buck clears his throat and straightens his back, determined to get through this without getting too distracted. “So it’s 1951, spring I think. And there’s this Disney animator guy who debuts the Dennis the Menace we all know and love.” 

“Except Mr. Wilson.” Tommy cuts in. 

“Except Mr. Wilson.” Buck agrees. 

“What about you Evan? Do a lot of Dennis’ing in your time?” Tommy asks. Buck looks down, wondering how honest to be. “Who me? I was a perfect angel, what are you talking about.” Tommy’s eyes crinkle again. He’ll make a very hot older man one day. “I don’t believe that for a minute.” His eyes twinkle, catching Buck in his half-hearted lie. “Weeeeeellll there was the odd tree fallen out of. Maybe a motorcycle or two crashed.” Tommy grimaces. “Donorcycles.” He sucks his teeth. “Those things will kill you.” Buck nods aggressively. “And boy do I know that now.” Tommy gestures for him to continue. 

“Ok well simultaneously to Disney guy, over in England there’s this kids comic called the Beano.” He checks to see if Tommy is paying attention, and feels his throat catch when the man is looking at him, really looking at him. “There’s no rush Evan.” He reassures. “We have many,” He checks the watch on his wrist and Buck notices it's practically a dead match to the LAFD standard. “Many hours.” He refocuses back on the man in front of him. “Listen. I like stories, I like details. I’m not gonna disappear if a punchline doesn’t appear within thirty seconds.” Buck breathes a sigh of relief. He didn’t realize that’s what he was doing, but he can’t deny Tommy was right on the money. “Good to know.” 

He pauses, taking his time with another sip of coffee before continuing. “So over in Britain this guy, completely without knowing it, is making his own Dennis. He’s a bit of a dick too, Dennis I mean.” Buck gestures at his own cropped hair, jutting his jaw out like the british gangsters in a Guy Ritchie movie.

He’s always picking on other kids, black spiky hair, devil may care type.” 

Buck stops the impression and starts pointing into the table for emphasis. “And I swear, these comics, same name, completely different concept, totally unbeknownst to each other, they come out within a week of each other!!!” He shrugs to himself. “I like those kind of synchronicities in life you know? Invisible string and all that.” He watches cautiously for Tommy’s reaction over another sip of coffee.

The man leans in. “So fraternal twins then.” Buck hums in agreement, setting down his mug. “Mmmm. And a fierce sibling rivalry.” “Oh obviously. One’s a blonde mischievous boy next door nuclear family kinda kid and the other’s a little brunette psycho from across the pond. It writes itself.” 

“Menace squared?” Buck posits. Tommy snaps. “Now see, that’s a team up I’d watch.” He beats his knuckles on the table like they’ve just closed a business deal and he stands up quickly. “Let me close out these tables and I’ll be right back.”  

Buck lets him go, reluctantly. 

Normally he’d be whipping out his phone and checking his messages, but it feels wrong in a place like this. He wants a door between him and Tommy and the rest of the world. He wants the man for himself without anything getting in the way. Buck looks out the window, watching the clouds get heavier and heavier with water. They have minutes before the heavens open up and all the diner’s patrons seem to know it. 

The customers pay quickly, trying to get to the highway before the rain and traffic do. But by the time it does start pouring, Buck has entirely too much of Tommy’s attention to care. “So how did you know all that?” Tommy asks when he’s done cleaning tables and the sun is just about set. 

“Gun to my head? I have no idea. Sometimes I see a fun fact somewhere, fall down a wikipedia rabbit hole to confirm it and end up with five additional ones and no memory of how I got there.” Tommy twirls his straw around the coke he’d retrieved for himself. “You’re curious. I wouldn’t call that a bad thing.” Buck scrunches his face. “I don’t know it’s gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years.” 

Tommy takes a sip, sighing as the ice cubes dance on his tongue. “Oh I’m sure. But it’s probably pushed you forward too right? What’s out there, what’s next, what’s better, it’s all taking you somewhere.”  

“Yeah… somewhere.” Buck echoes. He glances out the window, and the rain mimics the way his mood has suddenly deflated. 

“Something I said?” Tommy wonders aloud. 

Buck is called back into their private diner dimension by the pleasant buzz of his companion’s voice. He shakes his head and rubs the heel of his hand into his eye socket. “No, no, nothing you said. Don’t get me wrong, I love L.A. and my job, and the people, I know I’m doing what I’m meant to do.” Tommy nods. It’s not a polite gesture but one of understanding. 

“But I kinda thought once I had those things I’d be, I don’t know… fixed? Like all those missing pieces would snap into place all at once.” Buck brushes his hair back, avoiding eye contact. “And now that I say that out loud I realize how ridiculous that expectation was.”

Tommy’s eyebrows knit together, concerned. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous, but think of how boring it would be if it was that way, with nothing to build towards?” Buck can’t help but smile. “I guess you’re right, I didn’t think of it that way.”

Tommy shrugs and knits his fingers together. “Call it borrowed wisdom. I had a buddy back in the day, very proud of his Italian-ness.” Tommy chuckles and Buck catches himself jealous of the laughs they must have shared. He elects to ignore it. “He used to say that for the Romans, perfect just meant finished.”

Buck brightens, “I like it. I like it a lot.” Tommy waves his hand. “It’s all yours.” Buck tilts his head and maybe bats his eyelashes a little. “Your friend won’t mind?” He asks. Tommy gives a short laugh, setting his vintage glass down on the table. “Oh he’d mind a lot, but that’s half the fun.” 

They sit in peaceful silence, enjoying each other’s company. It’s properly dark now and the only sounds are the hum of the drinks machine. “You mind if we walk and talk? Better for the graveyard shift if I get some things prepped while we’re slow.”

“Not at all.” Buck untangles his limbs from the booth and gets to his feet trailing behind Tommy. “Ya know I don’t think I ever waited tables? I bartended a little but that was it.” Tommy bites back an obvious laugh as he retrieves ketchup bottles. “I’m sure you would’ve been tipped handsomely.” Buck heads him off at the pass, starting from the other side and collecting the bottles from the other tables. “You really think so?” He balances them in his arms, questioning with his eyes on which direction they go. “Oh I know so.” Tommy states definitively, leading them into the kitchen. 

“It’s not glamorous but it gets the job done.” He remarks, setting the bottles down on the metal counter and unscrewing the tops one by one. Buck joins in, and the repetitive task is oddly therapeutic. “Are you kidding me, this is where the magic happens!” Tommy’s face does that scrunchy thing and Buck knows he’s succeeded at being charming, or at least corny enough that it's looped back around to charming. He’ll take either one.

Tommy boils a pot of water and starts piling the ketchup lids into the bowls. Buck follows suit, piling the lids and going over to the sink to wash the stickiness off his hands. “You know you don’t have to like, pay rent or anything?” Tommy snaps the dish rag at him and Buck dodges, catching it in his hand so it doesn’t fall to the floor. “I like it, makes me feel useful.” He declares, grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser and shooting it into the trash can. 

“Well one, you don’t have to be useful. Two, you’re in the entertainment business, remember?” “Yeah?” Buck asks, careful not to slip as he turns around. “How am I doing so far?” Tommy tilts his head from side to side. “Well I’m not saying you’re ready for a Vegas Residency or anything.” He comments. “Thank god.” Buck whispers under his breath as Tommy continues. “But the act sure as hell has potential.” 

Buck feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him, ‘potential’ lying heavy between them. Tommy shows no mercy, pouring the boiling water into the bowl with amusement. “Time to let it sit.” He finally says, waving Buck back into the diner proper. 

“By the way,” Tommy tosses over his shoulder. “You never told me our horoscopes.” Buck scrambles for the paper, it was far far too long ago and he wouldn’t remember even if Tommy didn’t make him so…. Confused just by existing. Friendship normally doesn’t feel like this. 

Correction, friendship never feels like this. 

“U-ummm.” He stammers, getting his hold on the horoscope page. “Well mine is less a future thing and more of a past thing, go figure.” He hears a series of clicks from behind him but his eyes are fixed on the text. “Your passion for learning grows exponentially as you enjoy getting into the more nuanced layers of a subject.”

“Sounds like a past and future thing.” Tommy asserts. “And a damn good one at that. What about for the scorpions among us?” Buck stares back down at the later entries. “If you’re tired of the repetition, just imagine how the one doing the repeating must feel.” He reads dutifully, trying to ignore the thump in his heart as Tommy’s steps draw closer. “Do something to jolt this pattern, and it fixes itself.” 

The man comes to a stop right in front of him, sliding the paper from his hands and resting it on one of the tables. “Jolt the pattern, huh?” Buck’s eyes meet his and this, this moment, all of the sudden feels completely inevitable. Tommy’s fingers brush under his chin, Buck’s hand flies up to ghost over his shoulder blade, and then they’re kissing. It’s slow and gentle and he can feel a few more of those pieces of himself slide into place in real time, accented by the waves of electricity traveling back and forth and in and through them. 

When they finally do pull apart, Buck’s the same man, just better known. “Like that?” Tommy asks, and if Buck wasn’t so up in the clouds he’d be flattered by how breathless the man who just kissed a new world into existence sounds. “Y-yeah that works.” He’s not sure why he’s almost whispering. As if he speaks too loudly he’ll wake up from this amazing dream, a sapling nowhere near ready to be uprooted. 

“So that was ok?” Tommy checks in. “Perfect.” Buck breathes out without thinking, his eyes widening when his brain catches up. “But not in a Roman way! At least god, I hope not.” Tommy breathes a sigh of relief. “Evan are you saying you want me to kiss you again?” And Buck has juuuuuust enough game and brain cells to say yes. He nods, never breaking eye contact with Tommy’s lips. “My passion for learning grows exponentially.” He grins, and then Tommy is kissing him again, less gentle, just as sweet, and definitely just as world building. Buck loves the low hums that Tommy makes, like he is something worthy of exploration too.

They stay there for what feels like years and seconds at the same time, too much information being added to Buck’s brain to accurately assess the time frame. Somewhere one of the fridges kicks on and he is reminded instantaneously of where he is. “Hang on.” He breathes, having to settle a hand on Tommy’s chest to keep himself from diving in again. “I don’t want to drive away your custom-....” The words die on Buck’s lips as he realizes the neon sign in the window is off and the vinyl one in the door is switched to ‘closed’.

“Tommy?” The other man just shrugs, reaching around and holding him by the small of his back. Fuck he hopes Tommy can keep the store closed forever, or learn how to operate it without ever taking his hands away from where they are right now. “The rain would have kept them away anyway.” Tommy explains, planting a kiss to the base of Buck’s jaw. 

Buck nuzzles their cheeks together, addicted to the foreign sensation of someone else’s scruff against his skin. Tommy appears to be just as drunk on it, breathing and kissing and moaning and rewriting everything Buck thought he knew about attraction. 

For a second he thinks another earthquake might be hitting before he realizes it’s just Tommy, rocking them slowly across the checkered floor and over to the jukebox. Buck lets Tommy turn away, still attached, arms clasped in front of his navel and head resting in the crook of his shoulder. 

All the tension in his body that’s been building for weeks seems to drain down into his shoes, everything so much clearer. He likes Tommy. Not as a friend, not as an admirer, Not even as a lover of diner food. But as someone who would love to find out just how long he can kiss Tommy without passing out from lack of oxygen. 

“This ok?” Tommy asks, and the man could’ve put on Norwegian death metal and Buck still would have said yes. But as it stands, the song is classic and old and makes him feel like he’s being swept off his feet in the golden age of Hollywood. For all he cares, he is. 

“Are you gonna ask me to dance or what?” He muses, Tommy already shuffling them first to the dimmer switch, which highlights that Tommy managed to light all the table candles when Buck had his back turned, and then to the center of the floor. 

“Evan Buckley, may I have this dance?”

Buck nods. Slowly, intentionally. “Of course.” 

The song is almost mournful at first. The singer’s voice is high, reminding him of bubble gum stretching out to every syllable. He honestly couldn’t say whether it was a woman’s or a man’s. “ But don't change a hair for me, not if you care for me, stay little valentine stay.”

Their forms sway with the music, close, connected. The downpour outside provides the perfect static to the jukebox and Buck’s never felt more utterly captivated in his life. “Tommy?” He asks, his voice coming out small and content. “Hmmm??” The other man pulls back his head so he can look at Buck directly. Their eyes hover on each other’s lips, brains too fuzzy to comprehend words unless they can watch them sounded out. “Good Valentine’s Day?” Buck hopes. 

Tommy smiles, taking Evan’s face in his hand and rubbing his thumb down the column of his throat. “It sure as hell beats an emergency trach.” He teases, grinning when he's rewarded with another kiss. “Yes.” He affirms, granting two kisses, as the song comes to an end. “Don’t move.” Tommy requests, putting another song on the machine. It’s something about rain and falling in love and Buck barely hears a word because Tommy has him in his arms again. 

“Now Evan,” Their dance resumes. “where were we?”