buck's favourite thing is when he wakes up before tommy — when the world is quiet and still and there's nothing to come between them. he stirs awake, his eyes opening and landing instantly on the broad expanse of his boyfriend's back. he's mapped the hills and valleys of his spine countless times in countless ways and yet somehow, it never gets old. he draws his own constellations out of the freckles dusting along tommy's back, ghosting his fingers reverently over the scars littering his body, signs of a life well lived before they entered each-other's orbit. but buck's favourite thing is his face. when he's asleep, the crows feet by his eyes are merely hinted at and his lips are parted and there's no sign of the stress they face in their jobs. it's in these moments, in these few quiet fragments of time that buck knows. he's known on some level since he first saw tommy at the hangar, his smile all in his eyes and his teeth peeking out and his gaze sharp. buck's known since the first time tommy kissed him, breathing new life into him that he didn't know he was missing. it slams into buck's sternum, hammering in the intervals between his heartbeats. he loves tommy, and not in the terrifying way he's always felt affection. loving tommy feels like the easiest thing in the world. it feels like something he was always meant to do. he sees a future with tommy, although it's probably too early to think like that. he sees a little house and a yard for planting vegetables and saturday morning coffee dates and hosting dinner parties for their friends. he sees a life with tommy, and instead of scary, it feels liberating. he feels free.