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Buck was on a mission.
Tommy’s house, as much as Buck loved it, was a little… sparse in the Christmas department. There was a strand of fairy lights around the mantle, a simple wreath on the door, and a single potted poinsettia on the dining table. Tommy had even mentioned that he was debating whether or not to put up a tree this year.
That simply wouldn’t do.
It was Buck’s first Christmas living under Tommy’s roof, even if it was temporary, and if there was one thing Evan Buckley knew how to do, it was celebrate Christmas .. in theory. He’d grown up dreaming of picture-perfect holidays—the kind you see in movies where every corner glowed with twinkling lights and the air smelled like cinnamon and pine. Even though his childhood rarely matched that vision, Buck had carried the vision into adulthood.
So, early on his day off, he had headed out, armed with a mental checklist and a trunk ready to be loaded. By the time Tommy got home from his shift, Buck was in full holiday mode.
The living room was a whirlwind of activity. A massive tree stood in the corner, its branches bare but already exuding a festive pine scent. Boxes of ornaments and garlands spilled across the floor, and there was an unmistakable trail of glitter leading from the door to the couch.
Tommy stepped inside cautiously, his eyebrows raising at the chaos. “Evan,” he began, but Buck popped up from behind the tree with an enthusiastic grin.
“Surprise!” Buck gestured to the room. “We’re decorating!”
Tommy folded his arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Is that what we’re calling this? Looks more like Christmas threw up in here.”
“Funny,” Buck shot back, grabbing a string of lights. “You’ll thank me later. Trust me—this place is going to feel like Santa’s workshop when I’m done with it.”
The pilot shook his head, laughing as he shrugged off his jacket. “Alright, show me the plan, Picasso.”
“The plan,” Buck said, pointing dramatically to the tree, “starts here. We’re going to make this baby shine. Then, garlands, stockings, and—wait for it—a miniature Christmas village on the bookshelf.”
Tommy blinked. “A village?”
“Yep!” the curly haired man nodded enthusiastically. “I got little figurines and fake snow and everything. Oh, and a train that goes around it.”
Tommy groaned playfully but couldn’t hide the warmth in his eyes as he watched his boyfriend light up with excitement. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, grabbing a strand of lights from the pile.
“Ridiculously festive,” Buck quipped, already unraveling a box of ornaments.
Together, they tackled the tree first. Buck insisted on stringing the lights just right, making Tommy redo it twice before finally approving. Then came the ornaments—everything from classic red and gold baubles to quirky ones Buck had picked up that morning.
“Is that... a taco ornament?” Tommy asked, holding up the glittery shell.
Buck grinned. “Yep. Thought it’d make you laugh. Also got a tiny firetruck for me and a helicopter for you, because, y’know, firefighter and firefighter pilot.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t waver as he hung the ornaments.
By the time the tree was done, they stepped back to admire their work. It was bright, colorful, and maybe a little chaotic—just like its creator.
“Alright,” Buck said, clapping his hands together. “Next up, garlands.”
For the next hour, they draped garlands along the staircase railing, over the windows, and even across the kitchen cabinets. Buck added fairy lights to each one, much to Tommy’s amusement.
“So, how was your shift?” Buck asked as he fiddled with a particularly stubborn strand of lights.
“Not bad, I was on the ground today,” Tommy replied, stretching to hang a garland above the kitchen window. “We got a call about a cat stuck in a tree—classic holiday cliché. Took us longer to calm down the owner than to get the cat.”
Buck laughed. “Did you at least get a thank-you card from Mr. Fluffy?”
“Funny,” Tommy shot back, smirking. “What about you? Any interesting calls yesterday?”
“Eh, nothing too crazy,” Buck said, looping lights around the cabinet handles. “Though, I swear, if one more person sets their tree on fire with cheap lights, I’m going to start handing out decorating lessons.”
Tommy chuckled. “Maybe you should. Clearly, you have some strong opinions about holiday safety.”
“Hey, I’m just saying,” Buck replied, grinning. “If you’re going to light up your house, do it right. Like this.” He stepped back, gesturing dramatically at his handiwork on the cabinets.
Tommy tilted his head, pretending to scrutinize it. “Hmm… needs more glitter.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Buck said, grabbing a stray garland and playfully tossing it at him.
Tommy caught it, shaking his head with a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“And festive,” Buck quipped, tossing another string of lights at Tommy.
“This is starting to feel excessive,” Tommy teased as Buck fussed over the placement of a particularly stubborn strand.
“No such thing as excessive when it comes to Christmas,” Buck replied, sticking his tongue out in concentration.
“Says the man who had a tree that looked like it was falling over, and a garland on the banister.” The pilot shot back. Buck just rolled his eyes.
When the garlands were finally in place, they moved on to the bookshelf. Buck unpacked the miniature village, complete with a skating rink, tiny carolers, and an array of snow-dusted houses.
“Alright,” Buck said, placing the train track around the base, “this is the pièce de résistance.”
Tommy leaned against the wall, watching Buck with a soft smile. “You really love this, don’t you?”
Buck looked up, his hands pausing mid-track placement. “Yeah, I do. I guess… Christmas always felt like a chance to make up for the rest of the year, y’know? Like, even if things weren’t perfect, for a little while, you could pretend they were. Not that this behavior is healthy, or that I really did it .. like ever, but .. yeah. You grow up watching these cheesy Christmas movies, with the perfect family, the picture perfect home .. It"s not real, but you kinda still want it?”
Tommy stepped forward, resting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend here, Evan.”
The words settled between them, warm and grounding, and the younger man nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “I know,” he said softly.
After finishing the village—complete with a perfectly functioning train—they collapsed on the couch, bottles of beer in hand.
Tommy looked around the room, taking in the tree, the garlands, and the glittering lights. “Alright, I’ll admit it. This looks... amazing.”
Buck grinned, nudging him with his shoulder. “Told you.”
As the fire crackled in the fireplace and the soft glow of the lights filled the room, Tommy leaned back, his arm draping around Buck’s shoulders.
“I’m starting to think this whole decorating spree was a ploy to impress me,” Tommy said, smirking.
“Was it that obvious?” Buck quipped, resting his head on Tommy’s chest.
The pilot chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of the other man"s head. “You don’t have to impress me, Evan. You’re already my favorite person.”
Buck groaned, throwing a stray garland at the man, though his cheeks turned pink. “That was terrible.”
Tommy caught it, shaking his head with a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“And festive,” Buck quipped, tossing a string of lights at Tommy.
The man in question raised an eyebrow, preparing a witty comeback, but before he could say a word, Buck dropped the lights, closed the already small distance between them, and gently pushed Tommy further back against the couch.
“What are you—” Tommy began, but the words caught in his throat as Buck swung a leg over and straddled him, his hands framing Tommy’s face.
“I’m just appreciating my masterpiece,” Buck said softly, his lips curving into a warm smile, draping the last remaining garland around his boyfriend"s neck. “Not the decorations—the man who made it all worth it.”
Tommy’s cheeks flushed as Buck leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss that was slow and tender, the kind that made Tommy forget the rest of the world. He let himself sink into the moment, his hands sliding up to rest on his boyfriend"s hips, holding him close.
The kiss deepened, their movements unhurried as they took their time, exploring, savoring. Buck’s fingers threaded through Tommy’s hair, longer now and the pilot let out a quiet hum of contentment.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, Tommy smiled up at Buck, his voice soft and full of affection.
“You really are impossible.”
“Yeah,” Buck said, grinning as he brushed his nose against Tommy’s. “But you love me for it.”
Tommy chuckled, his hand gently cupping Buck’s cheek. “Yeah, Evan. I really do.”
And for a while, they stayed just like that—wrapped in each other, the twinkling lights around them casting a soft glow, the rest of the world fading into the background.