Buck's been a little nervous about their first (technically second, hence the nerves) dinner-and-a-movie date. It's ridiculous because they've done the wedding and they've done bowling with the team and they've done a helicopter flight to see the sunset because Tommy is That Guy. They've even done dinner, and they've done a movie, but the idea of putting them together back to back makes him a little itchy, like the ghost of bi-panic past might seize him by the throat and make him say something ridiculous.
But it's great, because of course it is, it's easy and it's fun and Tommy looks at him like he has never in his life wanted to be anywhere other than seated across from Buck in this little mom and pop place, with their knees bumping under the table and their second pitcher of beer sweating onto the tablecloth.
"Man, that was great. I'm stuffed. You wanna split a dessert?"
Tommy looks at him like Buck's just invited him to stop off at a puppy kicking party before they head to the cinema.
"Oh absolutely not. You want a dessert, you get one, you're not having mine."
"Oh, that's the line, huh?"
Tommy gives him a look. "Evan. You're a great guy, and I've been having a wonderful time with you, but this is going nowhere if you expect me to eat half a dessert."
Buck raises his hands in defeat. "Message received and understood."
"Split a dessert," Tommy mutters, turning his attention to the menu. "Good lord."
Buck watches the seriousness with which Tommy peruses his options, the distaste at the idea of sharing a sweet treat still very obvious on his face and makes a mental note to find out his favourites and learn to cook them like, immediately.
