Work Text:
The First
“Thanks for the walk today,” Buck said aloud as he typed. “And the second chance. How was your day?” He snapped a selfie of himself propped up against his pillows and looked at it critically. He deleted it and tried again.
Good. Nice arm definition, tank pulled down just enough to hint at pecs, friendly smile. Didn’t look ready to jump him.
He hit send before he could second guess.
It flipped to read almost immediately and he grinned. He wouldn’t let himself get obsessed about dots, that was a dating thing, so he hopped over to Insta to scroll. But he’d only gotten a few posts down before he had a reply.
Tommy had sent a selfie of himself with a quirked eyebrow and a smile. He was in his LAFD tee at work. Pretty good, even if I had to swallow down this awful coffee someone bought me. Speaking of that someone, I thought we were “getting to know each other” until the wedding?
Buck grinned. Oh, absolutely we are, he texted back. This is you getting to know what I look like at the end of the day, that’s all.
Buck snapped another selfie, this one of him trying to look innocent and righteous.
Honestly, it just looked flirty. Which was also fine. He sent it.
Definitely an important part of getting to know someone, good call. I’ll return the favor tomorrow. This is my night, barring emergency. Maintenance. Tommy included a selfie, holding up a clipboard and checklist with a grease streaked hand.
Buck snapped one last selfie of him holding his bedside book, Simon Sort of Says. Love a good checklist! This is mine, Chris and I are reading it, I’m a few chapters behind and need to catch up to him! Looking forward to learning more about the Jesus squirrel, and catching up with you tomorrow. Night!
Dots flew up immediately, and Buck waited.
I hope catching up with me also means catching me up on the Jesus squirrel, because I have a lot of questions. I’m glad you called and glad you asked me out. Sleep well. His selfie was just him giving a sweet smile straight to the camera, and Buck couldn’t stop grinning as he opened the book.
The Second
Tommy texted early the next afternoon, a shot of himself sitting on a porch swing with a coffee and a copy of Simon Sort of Says. Good morning, Evan. You buried the alpaca lede.
Buck grinned, shoving his piece of chicken in his mouth so he could type. Hey, Tommy! I didn’t want to give too much away. But I’m sorry, I believe I was promised an end of day photo??
A photo of Tommy in a worn out faded t-shirt, with rumpled hair and sleepy eyes popped up almost immediately. He was reclining against a pillow in bed, dark red sheets pulled up around him, and his arm bent behind his head, pulling the sleeve tight against his bicep.
Fucking gorgeous.
6am felt like a terrible time to send a text, Tommy wrote.
Which was, objectively, true. Except. He’d never admit it, but he’d already added Tommy’s number to the list that would bypass his silence. It would have been a great thing to wake up to, but now was a much better time to chat.
He gave it a thumbs up and typed his message. Hey, what are your plans today?
His phone rang and Buck answered.
“Hey,” he said, warmly.
“Hi, Evan,” Tommy said. He sounded relaxed and cheerful and Buck could sink into his voice. “My plans are reading and some chores. How about you?”
“Basically the same,” Buck said. “Wanna hang out and read together?”
“Getting to know our reading habits?” Tommy asked, sounding amused.
“Hey, I read with my friends,” Buck said, grinning. “Do you want to come over here? I’m going to bake something, we can snack.”
“How about you bring the bake, and I provide the backyard?” Tommy asked. “I have hammocks, lounge chairs, you name it.”
“Sold,” Buck said immediately. “Send me your address, and let’s say, an hour or two?”
“Looking forward to it,” Tommy said, and Buck could tell that he really was.
And man, so was he.
Tommy was the first to text that night. Kids books didn’t have this much emotion when I was a kid. Brutal.
His selfie showed him pouting and wiping at one of his eyes. It was adorable and Buck didn’t want to look away.
I know!, he texted back. Christopher lured me in with squirrels and chaos and funeral home shenanigans, too. I did try to warn you. He sent a pic of himself looking sad.
I am not fully confident that “It’s not just funny” constitutes a warning, Evan. But no regrets. I loved spending time with you today.
Buck waited, but there was no selfie. He sent one of himself looking expectant.
Nope, too sad for selfies :’(, Tommy texted back.
Buck took another, looking repentant. Sorry! You pick the next read, then. Something light. Or fun, or whatever you like.
Tommy’s return selfie was of him in bed, shirtless, but looking soft. Kleenex was on the quilt next to him.
It was the first time he was seeing Tommy’s bare chest, and his imagination hadn’t done him justice. God, he couldn’t wait to touch those muscles, that hair. Kiss the cleft. But there was this look on his face, so warm and open, and he also just wanted to hold him.
No regrets, remember? I’ll pick something good for us.
Buck pulled his shirt off, settled back against his pillows, and snapped the shot. Can’t wait! Night, Tommy.
Night, Evan.
Buck drifted off to sleep looking at Tommy’s beautiful, wonderful face.
The Third
They kept texting every morning and night, and plenty of times in between. It was definitely coming close to the line of dating vs. getting to know each other, but Buck figured that as long as he kept things PG in his head and actions, it counted.
Maybe PG-13.
He snapped a photo of his boots. I’m thinking of a hike later this morning, he texted. Want to come with?
Tommy’s reply was almost immediate. I have a few errands, but I can pick you up at 11?
Perfect, Buck sent back, with a selfie of him beaming. I’ll pack some lunch!
He had a few hours, so he ended up more than packing lunch. He baked a spinach quiche, made a cucumber salad and avocado salsa to go with some crackers, and, with the extra time, baked brownies. The insulated pack fit perfectly in his backpack and he was downstairs with just enough time to worry that he’d gone overboard before Tommy arrived.
“Hey!” he said, hopping up into the cab of Tommy’s truck. He dropped his bag on the floor and barely caught himself before going in for a hug.
“Good to see you, Evan,” Tommy said, giving him a big eye-and-nose-crinkling grin, and Buck helplessly grinned back.
Getting to know him, getting to know him, not allowed to kiss him, he reminded himself.
Yet.
“So where did you want to go?” Tommy asked.
Buck pulled out his phone and opened gps. “It’s got my favorite views,” he said, typing in the address.
Tommy leaned over to look at the map. “Oh, yeah, I love that place,” he said. “Red Jacket or maybe Andozola are my favorite trails.”
“I was thinking Red Jacket today,” Buck said. His hand grazed Tommy’s as he set it in Tommy’s holder, and it was electric.
“Then Red Jacket it is,” Tommy said, and they drove off.
The drive went fast with Buck sharing what he’d learned over the years about the history of various trails, and Tommy asking questions. Most people didn’t engage that long with one of his research binge stories, and he was almost glad when they got there. Just in case Tommy was getting sick of the topic.
“Now, are you one of those speed hikers, or do you take your time?” Tommy asked as they set off.
“Definitely not speed, but not, like, meandering,” Buck said, trying not to walk too close even if he really wanted that electric zing of touch again. “Is there a normal hiking speed? I never thought about it.”
“Yep, only one normal speed, all others are ridiculous,” Tommy said dryly. He looked over at Buck. “You’re keeping up, so I guess you just naturally knew it.”
“That’s good, I’d feel really stupid if I’d gotten it wrong,” Buck said, laughing.
“Nah, no one could ever call you stupid,” Tommy said, and Buck glanced over at him, surprised.
“I pay attention,” Tommy said. He caught Buck looking down at his hand again and grinned. “Want to get to know how I hold hands?” He bumped Buck’s hip with his.
Buck blushed and ducked his head. “Hey, Europeans hold hands with friends,” he said. “Or, like, link arms? Something like that.”
“And we can do that, too, without this being a date,” Tommy said, taking Buck’s hand and squeezing it. “If we say this isn’t a date, then it’s not.”
“Yeah?” Buck asked.
“Yeah. We get to decide,” Tommy said. “You get to decide.”
“Then hang on, because I want to hug you hello,” Buck said. He didn’t want to drop Tommy’s hand, but it was worth it to wrap his arms around the man and feel Tommy’s around him. He stepped back after a moment, and they grinned goofily at each other.
“All right, let’s go,” Buck said. “And wait until you see what I made for lunch.”
The Fourth
I’m still thinking about those brownies, Tommy texted a few days later.
Buck grinned. That was actually the third time Tommy had said that, twice in text and one in person.
He snapped a photo of the ingredients already on his counter. I’m baking some later to bring in to work tomorrow, he wrote back. I’ll save you some! But you cannot tell Eddie that it’s a keto recipe, he’s not a fan.
Of course, it was more like he was saving some for the 118, but Tommy didn’t need to know that.
Your secret is safe with me, Tommy texted back. Those brownies are going to get me through this workout. He attached a photo of himself at the top of a chin up, biceps bulging and legs tensed and winking at the camera.
Buck just stared for a moment, transfixed by his muscles, his arms especially well framed by his red tank.
Great minds think alike!, he finally texted back, and sent a photo of his unwound battle ropes. Just about to get started.
Well, then, try and keep up, Tommy replied. This selfie was the same pose, but now there were little beads of sweat dotting his forehead.
Buck groaned and refused to touch himself. He wanted to taste the sweat beading on Tommy’s face even more than Tommy wanted these brownies, and he knew exactly how much Tommy wanted those brownies.
You’re on, he texted.
The photos that afternoon got saved into their own album.
The Fifth
Morning! I convinced Chim he needed a bachelors party. We’re going to celebrate 80s style, and I need to find my costume. Have time to come with? Buck sent a morning selfie of himself getting ready in the bathroom, looking hopeful.
Howie wants a costumed bachelor party?, Tommy texted. He looked surprised and a little suspicious in his selfie.
Chim is getting a costumed bachelors party! Buck gathered his gelled hair into a Mohawk and sent it.
Oh, Evan, no. I’ll be there in 45 minutes, see you soon.
Tommy looked mildly horrified in his photo and Buck laughed.
Can’t wait!
Buck hopped out of Tommy’s truck. “Where are we going?” He had been expecting a mall, but this was a rundown strip mall.
“Reruns,” Tommy said, nodding towards a storefront with a neon hanger in the window. “It’s a resale shop that accidentally tends vintage, so most people don’t know about it.”
Buck held out his hand, which Tommy took with a grin, and he followed him into the shop and towards the racks on the left.
“By the way, do you want to come to Chim’s party? I didn’t mean to drag you out to get ready for a party you weren’t invited to, you were always invited once it was happening, I just wanted to ask you in person,” Buck said, almost tripping over his words in order to explain.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” Tommy said. He held up a light blue denim jacket. “Thoughts?”
“I was thinking Miami Vice,” Buck said. “Like, Crockett?” He trailed Tommy around the rack, still holding his hand. “But yeah? I want you there, but I didn’t want it to get weird. Because it’s not a date, even though it’s a party.”
“Well, yeah,” Tommy agreed. “Who brings a date to a bachelor’s party? It’s the least date-like thing we’ve done. And of course I’d love to go, spend more time with you, catch up with Eddie and Chim.”
“And Hen and Karen,” Buck said.
“Absolutely,” Tommy agreed. He held up a yellow shirt, but shook his head. “Not your color. When is it?”
“Night before the wedding, of course,” Buck said, making a face at a powder blue shirt.
“Oh,” Tommy said, hanging it back up.
“That’s not a promising ‘oh,’” Buck said, frowning.
‘Yeah,” Tommy said. “I’m on call that night, so I can’t guarantee I’ll be there. But I want to, and I’ll do my best.” He held up a mint green jacket.
“Your best is great,” Buck said, squeezing his hand. “And so is that jacket.”
The Date
Buck woke up to Tommy still next to him in bed, reading on his phone.
“Morning,” he said, feeling his face light up. They’d both been far beyond exhausted when they got to Buck’s, Tommy barely managing his shower before collapsing into Buck’s bed, but he had been just as excited to sleep next to Tommy as he was to wake up with him.
“Morning, Evan,” Tommy said, setting his phone down. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah, but I should be asking you that,” Buck said. “You had a hell of a day yesterday.” He rested his hand on Tommy’s arm.
“Everyone did,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “I didn’t get to read all of your texts until this morning, and they were quite a ride.”
“It was a very Chim and Maddie kind of day,” Buck said. “All’s well that ends well.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” Tommy said. “And I’m sorry that we didn’t really get our date.” He rested his hand on top of Buck’s. “I was looking forward to it.”
‘Um, excuse me? We very much had our date,” Buck said, grinning at him.
Tommy raised his eyebrows. “I guess I was more tired than I thought,” he said, “because I don’t remember that at all.”
“We were together,” Buck said, ticking it off on his fingers, “Had some food, had some conversations, had a hell of a hello kiss. And a pretty great goodnight one, too.” He wiggled his fingers. “And you’re the one who said we get to decide what a date is. So, it was a date.”
“I cannot argue with that logic,” Tommy said, capturing Buck’s hand and kissing it.
“The one thing we didn’t do was dance together,” Buck said. “But we can fix that.”
“Absolutely,” Tommy said, immediately. “Meet you downstairs in ten. You bring the coffee, I’ll bring the music.”
“It’s a date,” Buck said, grinning.