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After Tommy goes home, Buck looks up tutorials on how to clean vintage jewelry because all they did was dunk the pieces in water, and then he thinks, screw it, they're not worth all that effort if Tommy doesn't want any of it.
At least Tommy sorted out the pieces that he thought belonged to his family. The rest are left as one big mysterious collection. He spends the night trying to work out if he should try to return the items to their owners or sell the lot, and realized with some regret that he is far too damn nice.
He turns the ones that have engravings or appear to be sentimental trinkets in to the police. The rest – half a dozen plain gold or silver rings, a crucifix, a pearl pendant, two pairs of what might be diamond earrings – are put into a box. The Kinard family jewels he sells in full; it brings a tidy sum. (It makes Buck smile to himself whenever that silly phrase pops into his head; he thinks about texting Tommy, except it may be a little too much for something that's clearly a sore spot for him, and then decides heck it, Tommy's humor runs dark anyway.) (He gets a 😑😂 in return.)
It takes twelve days before Buck gets the items pawned, one day to freak out over the fact that he pawned Tommy's family's possessions, another two to work up the nerve to invite Tommy over for dinner and a chat.
"I really just want dinner and light conversation, I promise," Buck says over the phone when Tommy answers his call. "I mean, at this point, it's the least I can do."
"Evan." Tommy sounds like he's biting back a snappy retort. "Okay. Fine. What should I bring?"
"Your current favorite beer. I don't wanna presume you still like that apricot-ish horror."
"It was a peachy delight and you drank more than half my stash." Tommy snorts and adds, "Just for that insult, I'm bringing it and you're not drinking it."
Buck wrinkles his nose and then rolls his eyes. He has missed Tommy being bitchy about little things. "Bring Tupperware. You're bringing home leftovers, too."
*
They do have dinner and light conversation about the repairs Buck needs to make and what cars Tommy restored before. The beer is disgusting and sweet and Buck brings out his lemon cream pie in retaliation.
At the door, they look at each other. The distance between them is not as close as they used to stand, and not so far that they can't count each other's eyelashes. Buck's fingers twitch, wanting to grab Tommy by his shirt and drag him back in, but he refrains.
Personal growth, go me.
"Next week, my place?" Tommy offers. He holds up one of the Tupperware containers. "And you bring your own Tupperware."
"I don't want chicken parmesan," Buck warns.
Tommy narrows his eyes, but a smirk plays on his lips. "You love my chicken parm."
"Not for leftovers. Gimme something carby."
His smirk relaxing into a grin, Tommy says, "Wait and see. Send me a date, I'll pencil you in."
*
It turns out Tommy's lasagna is very nearly as good as Bobby's. Buck accuses him of hiding his culinary capabilities on purpose.
"I just don't like cooking as much as you do," Tommy says blandly. Then a corner of his mouth curls, in that fondly condescending way that drives Buck a little insane. "And you look cuter in an apron than I do."
Buck kicks his ankle for that, but he knows his ears flame red.
*
The remaining jewelry brings in a tidy sum. Not 'Michelin restaurants for a week' good, but enough for one big treat. With part of the money made from pawning off the jewelry, Buck buys a gift subscription to a craft beer club and puts in Tommy's address. In the meantime, they have dinners together regularly, alternating between each other's homes.
Tommy calls Buck after the first delivery of craft beer. "What is this." He doesn't sound angry or annoyed, just baffled.
"You like craft beer, so." Buck stuffs his free hand into his pocket. "It's okay to enjoy stuff, and to pay as much as you want for it."
"Evan."
"I want you to have nice things, and to like having nice things," Buck blurts out. It's good that he's on the roof of the firehouse. Anyone else that hears this may get the wrong idea.
Tommy sighs. "Have you thought about leaving the 118?"
He's not expecting this question, though he knows it has been lingering between them. Buck clutches the phone tightly. He doesn't know what to say.
There is a ghost in the house and it is grief. It lurks in unexpected places and Buck feels it scraping away at his nerves each time he sets foot in the building. He won't ever see the man he thinks he'll see if he just turns his head fast enough.
But this is his family, isn't it?
"It's not disloyal to want to explore your options," Tommy says, deducing correctly that Buck isn't going to speak. "It's an opportunity for growth."
"Yeah? Was that what you told yourself back then?" Buck wishes he can take it back the second the words run free of his mouth.
On the other end of the line, Tommy huffs. They both stay on the line in silence, and Buck wishes he can see Tommy's expression.
After a minute, Tommy says, "It was Bobby who told me that." A sigh. "You didn't answer me."
The half-laugh sounds false even to Buck. He clears his throat. "I've thought about it. I've filled in the forms."
"You haven't submitted them."
"How do you know that?"
Tommy chuckles. "Baby, there isn't a bloodbath in the LAFD yet."
Baby. It's like being wrapped up in his coziest hoodie and drinking hot chocolate with the little marshmallows on top. Buck hugs himself. He's probably grinning like a very deranged loon.
"Talk to me next dinner how it was like for you, going someplace new after the 118," he says instead. Then he adds, "And we also need to talk about what this thing between us is."
Now it's Tommy's turn to be silent. Buck feels nerves prickling down his spine.
"I'm not over you," he says at last when the silence is too thick and too overwhelming. "And that morning after we... That morning. What I said. It was stupid. I didn't mean to imply I didn't have feelings for you, and I do want to try-"
"Evan," Tommy interjects, "let's keep all that for our next dinner."
That makes sense. Not bothering to hide his smile, Buck clears his throat. "Bye."
"Be safe, Evan."
*
With the rest of the money, Buck buys Tommy a decently nice watch. A Tissot Heritage Navigator. He doesn't gift wrap the box it comes in, and slides it across the table when they're done having dinner (poached cod).
Tommy freezes when he opens the box and sees the watch. His eyes flicker from it to Buck's face and back to the item.
"If you'll accept the present," Buck says quietly, "I'll send in the transfer."
"It's a nice watch," Tommy murmurs, "but that's your career."
Buck shrugs. "I bought it with money made from your family's stuff." And a bit more, but Buck doesn't mention that part. He has savings too. "And if it's stolen or lost or damaged, I'll get you another one, if you'll keep watching out for me."
Tommy swallows dryly. Then he takes off his old watch and offers his bare wrist. His eyebrows tick up sardonically.
God, you're such a bitch, Buck thinks fondly. He slides the new watch onto Tommy's wrist and fastens it.
Catching Buck's hand before he can withdraw, Tommy says, "Send in the application." His smile turns wicked. "I wanna watch the massacre over who gets you."
Buck tightens his grasp on Tommy's hand. "I know who gets me. The question is, do you want me?"
Tommy's gaze never wavers. "Always did. Still do." He lifts Buck's hand and kisses the knuckles. "And you?"
"I want you in my life. I want to do this dinner thing we have as often as possible. I want you to be mean to me when you think I'm not acting in my own best interest, a-and bully me into being better to myself." Buck has thought about this. "I want us to date again, and I want to learn all the ugly, shabby, terrible things you don't wanna show anyone else. I want you to want to show me who you are, not who you think I should have."
"Jesus." Tommy's face crinkles into the warmest of smiles. "You don't want much, do you?"
Buck grins back. His heart rate ticks up a notch, like he's about to leap off the edge of a cliff. "Nah, just everything. What do you want in exchange?"
"All of you."
"All of me?" Buck thinks how his friends would say he's exhausting, he's selfish, he's too much. But he isn't any of that for Tommy. He's ready to jump, and here Tommy is promising him that he is - they are - about to soar.
Whatever he's thinking must show in his expression. Tommy studies Buck's face and then breathes out, his smile still wide and warm.
"Yeah. All of you. I'd like that." He squeezes Buck's fingers once more. "Now go send in your request."