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Buck was vaguely aware that he'd been limping since he set the table. He'd heard on the radio that morning that a storm might be moving in from the coast, but it had somehow slipped his mind that the change in atmospheric pressure was going to affect him the same way it always did.
His entire left leg was sore.
The feeling had started in his knee and then radiated out, until even his ankle felt like it was throbbing. There had been about an hour of showers in the afternoon, and then the sky was clear, without a cloud in sight, while he made a last minute trip to the grocery store to get a few things for dinner. By the time Tommy had knocked on the door, the sky had opened up again, drops of rain hitting the windows hard enough that it had taken him by surprise when it started.
He considered himself lucky that there wasn't any thunder or lightning in the forecast, just the torrential downpour.
Dinner had been easy enough to get through, if only because he got to sit down through all of it. It was easy for Buck to ignore the pain if he could stay off his feet, if there wasn't a constant reminder of it when he was just trying to exist. At least, when he was sitting, he could distract himself with food and good conversation. His boyfriend's presence just made both of those things more enjoyable.
They could talk about their days over hot soup and freshly baked bread. Buck could share fun facts from the latest episode of his favorite podcast. Tommy could tell a story about a dangerous call he'd been sent on that morning. It could turn into pictures of the animals they'd seen that day - all taken with the owners' permission, of course - and then a tangent about their dream pet, and exactly what they would be named.
When Buck stood up to take their dishes to the sink, the distraction wasn't enough to keep his mind occupied, and his knee almost gave out as if it wasn't capable of holding his weight. He thought he hid it well enough, the only outward evidence being a small stumble and a wince. In a matter of minutes, he could be back in his seat, ignoring it all over again, and maybe he'd just stay there until the storm left the city and there wasn't anything to ignore anymore. That was how he usually dealt with it, at least.
"Evan…"
He didn't even make it more than a few steps before a gentle but steady hand caught him by his elbow. Neither of them acknowledged that it might be the only thing keeping him upright, because his leg certainly wasn't doing much to help in that regard. It was probably better that they didn't mention it. Their night had been so good so far, with nothing even remotely uncomfortable, and delicious dinner, and no end in sight for the joy he was experiencing. It couldn't end just because of an old injury. That would be humiliating.
"I'm fine. I'm just taking stuff to the kitchen. I'll be right back."
There was a low hum while Tommy stood up next to him. His hand didn't even wavor at his arm, actually giving it a short, reassuring squeeze. "Give it over. I can do the dishes. You go get comfortable on the couch and I'll meet you over there."
Buck didn't have the chance to put up a fight before the bowls were pulled from his hands and a soft kiss was dropped onto his cheek. He'd been all but given an order, and no option to disobey. Normally, that was fine, exciting even, but this wasn't the normal kind of order he was given. This was a pitying request from his boyfriend, who was cleaning up their mess because his leg was a little sore.
"I'm fine-"
"Go."
Tommy gave him a pointed look, already almost to the sink. It would take longer to argue than it would to just let him do it, and the couch was closer than the sink. His leg and knee would thank him if he just gave up and listened.
So, with a heavy and dramatic sigh, he turned around to start limping toward the couch, doing his best to minimize the amount of time his left leg took the brunt of his weight. He made it without wincing again, barely, and let himself drop onto the cushions. They were more comfortable than the chairs at the table, that was for sure, and the next sigh he let out was a satisfied one while parts of his spine settled back into place.
He caught the sound of a soft chuckle before the water was turned on in the kitchen. It was warm, and fond, and it settled deep in Buck's chest to make a home there, exactly where it belonged. It didn't feel so humiliating to take it easy when there were those sounds and feelings filling the loft as much as the smell of yeast and spices did.
Letting his eyes slide closed, he took in the rest of the noise around him. Beyond the sound of the running sink, there was silverware scraping over ceramic, and rain hitting the windows, and the low crooning from the music that he'd forgotten he'd even turned on. It was all so domestic, like he could melt into it and let it become his entire life, like it wasn't only a few nights a week that he got to enjoy things being so peaceful and easy. And that was when they were lucky enough to have their shifts line up in a way that left an entire evening free for both of them, without the need for an alarm in the morning that might cause their night to be cut short.
When the water shut off a few minutes later, he made himself open his eyes just in time to see Tommy approach the couch with a dishtowel in hand, wiping any remaining water from his fingers. It was an even better sight than opening the door to his smile. It reignited the domestic feeling in his chest, so warm it was almost hot, a delicious ache that made him completely forget about his knee again.
"You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did." Tommy settled onto the cushion at the other end of the couch and shot him a small smile. "You've been pushing yourself since I got here, probably longer. You need to learn to take it easy. Are you still in pain?"
The look in his eyes said that he already knew the answer, and Buck didn't see the point in lying in the first place. He wasn't going to be judged for feeling the consequences of an old injury. He wasn't going to be teased about milking it all these years later for a bit of pity. Not by Tommy.
"Yeah, a bit." He shrugged briefly, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. "As soon as the storm passes, it'll be back to normal. Until the next one comes in. Or until you drag me to a basketball court again."
Tommy hummed, low and thoughtful, and watched him in relative silence for just a second too long for it to be completely casual. It had been a long time since things between them had been casual, but that hardly mattered anymore. They wouldn't be there, discussing such a vulnerable topic in the same breath as fond teasing, if casual was still an applicable descriptor of their relationship.
"Give me your leg."
With a soft expression, Buck swung his leg up, slow and careful, until it was resting in his boyfriend's lap. Almost immediately, the strong but gentle hands that he was oh so familiar with took up a practiced position by his knee. His muscles and nerves were sensitive enough that he could feel the pain intensify for a brief moment when the massage started. It didn't take long for the feeling to fade away again, and he let out a low moan at the blissful feeling of being pain free for the first time in hours.
He caught sight of Tommy's soft expression morphing into a smirk. It was just as unconscious of an action as the moan itself had been, a habitual response to the sound that was probably as natural as breathing, by that point. It was familiar, and as comforting as they touch was, and for a few comfortable, quiet moments, Buck let himself pretend that not even something like two separate addresses could interrupt the rest of their lives.