Tom crinkles up his nose at the underside of the kitchen sink at the Lewis place. The simple plumbing job that was only supposed to take up part of his morning had gone on and on, eating up more and more of his day. Being fair, that was the job. It wasn't that they couldn't afford to hire out the handyman work. He and Tori had decided early on that they would keep costs in house as much as they could, he was certified, and hell - he enjoyed the job. Most days.

Today really was no different than any other during the season. Random calls were to be expected. It's just that he'd planned on spending as much time as possible with Ryan since she was due to leave in the morning, headed back to the city for her quarterly visit to the office, and then she was going to remain in the city through the weekend - stay with Austin and see some of the friends she had left behind.

He wasn't jealous. That wasn't it at all. He just... he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The underside of the sink offered no suggestions, helpful or otherwise, as he mulled it over.

He'd grown used to spending as much time as he pleased with Ryan. The off season had been kind to them that way. The houses had cooperated during the months of being closed up. Every routine check had given him a sense of security even though he knew the potential for catastrophe loomed. He never ended up enjoying it when Fate set her sights on him.

Reaching up to give the adapter one last check, Tom looses a sigh. Ryan had been understanding when he called her at lunch, let her know the state of things. He'd heard the hitch in her voice and wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was, that he'd be at this all day.

A quick glance out of the cabinetry, down his upper torso and out into the room that is no longer brightly lit from ambient light, tells him he just about has. He almost has spent all of his day on this repair.

Giving the wrench one final tug he takes a deep breath as he scoops and twists himself up and out from under the sink, only to whoop out a series of coughs. The smell of stale water and grease and old-trapped-in-the-drain things nearly chokes him. He'll need airing out on the way over, both to lessen the scent clinging to him, and to prevent that same smell from leeching into the cab of his truck.

The moment he reaches the end of the Lewis' driveway he pauses, as though waiting for unseen traffic. He could turn left. It's only a short drive to his house. A quick shower and he'd be – he'd be tempted to fall into bed and call it a day. Turning right means Ryan. Right means Ryan, and a beer, talking about whatever catches their fancy and...

He taps out a text to her, letting her know he's done for the day. The decision about which direction to go is an easy one, honestly. Ryan. Hands down. No real contest. He lowers the driver's side window a few inches more before turning onto the road towards her, not his house but his home.

She's got the light on for him, making his smile wider as he parks his old truck next to her leased 4Runner. She and the salesman had tried their darndest to get him to trade his old truck in for something new, but he'd held his ground. He planned to continue replacing pieces and parts, continue driving this truck till the wheels came off.

Something keeps him from walking right up to the front door, from going inside to seek Ryan out and wrap her in his arms. No, not the fact that he still smells lightly of stale water and grease: a lightning bug.

Tom meanders slowly through the yard, following the little beetle's wild flight pattern until he's almost made it into the backyard where he loses it amongst the others floating around, winking and blinking in the dying sunlight. He and Tori used to chase fireflies under the watchful gaze of their parents. When he would catch the little beetles, he'd smear their bio-luminescence over his clothes, drawing a stern lecture from his mother. Tori was far kinder to her captives, subscribing to the catch and release program.

He settles down onto the grass, first sitting and then sprawling out onto his back, content to let the slow shadows of dusk surround him as the lightning bugs dance through the air.

That's how Ryan finds him some twenty minutes later. Flat on his back with his hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the sky.

"Tom?" The whap of the door to the back porch is punctuated by her calling his name, and then the sound of her bare feet on wood, her voice a little harder, "Tom! Are you alright?!"

He lifts his head a little, trying not to laugh, "Yea. I'm fine. I'm ok." He props himself up on one elbow to look at her. "Just watching the lightning bugs. Listening to the crickets and waiting on the stars." He leans back again, pointing up at the sky as he flops down on the grass once more, "You can see the moon already."

"Y-yes." Ryan hedges an answer. "You can. Are you sure you're ok?"

When he turns his head to look at her again, she's drawn a few steps closer. "Yep. Hey, c'mere." He grins as she hesitates further. "Lay down with me."

"Doesn't grass make you itch?"

That pulls a good chuckle out of him. "No more than a bug bite."

Ryan settles him with a hard look, "And that's supposed to convince me?"

She doesn't like bugs. At all. Nearly jumped across the room one morning when a little cricket had found its way into the living room. Not that he minded. He liked it when she was in his arms.

He doesn't answer, just continues to watch her. She'll either join him or turn around and wait for him inside.

"And what about ants?"

Tom raises an eyebrow, glancing away from her to look at the ground beside him before replying, "Haven't felt any, yet. But if any bother you I know a solution or two."