my friend just told me that there's a secret second dashboard that solely contains posts from people you've turned on post notifications for, and when i click the link in the messages it opens it within the tumblr app, so the tumblr app also has a secret second dashboard for post notification blogs, and the only way to access it is to open the link for it within the app.
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bucktommy + Kiss on the forehead please and thank you 🙏
Thanks, Beans! This is what came to mind for this. We're calling it an AU, okay? A wipe-away-season-nine AU. <3
“We’re here,” Tommy said as he cut the engine. Evan hadn’t been asleep but he hadn’t exactly been present, either. Which was why Tommy had driven him home. From Tommy’s passenger seat, he stirred. “Hmm?” He sat up and looked out the windshield, seeming not to recognize Eddie’s place. Or, well, his own place. He blinked a few times. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”
“Would you rather-?” Tommy hadn’t wanted to assume he should take Evan to his place and Evan hadn’t offered up any suggestions.
“No. This is fine. Thank you.” Evan unbuckled his belt and reached for one of the hats sitting between them. “Which…?”
“Um… Well, we both have pretty big heads…” Tommy put one one then the other. “This one, I think.” He passed one of the formal uniform hats over and Evan held it in his lap, not moving.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside and you can change into something…” ‘more comfortable’ felt wrong to say but ‘less funereal’ was definitely not the right thing to say.
“Uh… Can I…” Evan sighed, turning the hat around and around in his hands. “Would you…”
“Anything you need,” Tommy answered immediately.
“It’s just… Eddie’s staying here and…”
“Where do you want to go? Maddie’s…? Or…?”
“Can I…” Evan ducked his head. “I just… I don’t want to… talk to anyone.”
“Evan? Can I take you back to my place?”
The tension bled out of Evan’s frame. “Thanks. I just…”
“Do you want to grab clothes or anything?”
Evan studied the house for a moment then shook his head. “No. I… don’t really feel like going in.”
Tommy started the car again. “Okay, but no complaints about cold ankles when you borrow my sweats.”
Tilting his head Evan asked, “You won’t loan me socks?”
“I could be persuaded,” Tommy said, putting the truck into reverse.
Half an hour later they pulled up to Tommy’s place with a bag of burgers and fries.
Inside, they both stripped away pieces of their dress uniform and dumped them in a heap.
“I’ll grab drinks,” Tommy said. “You know where my stuff is. Grab whatever you want.”
Tommy stayed in the kitchen longer than necessary, putting ice in glasses, getting paper towels and folding them into napkins despite the fact there was a stack of them in the bag of fast food.
“I helped myself to your socks, too,” Evan said.
“Good.” Tommy studied him, trying not to smile at seeing Evan in his sweats. “Here. Take the drinks in and I’ll go change.”
Leaving Evan with the drinks and food and remote control, Tommy called, “Find something to watch, be right back.”
In his room he found the rest of Evan’s dress uniform folded on his dresser. Tommy ran his hand over the fabric before turning to find his own clothes to change into. He hung his uniform pants and dress shirt, mostly just to make it easier for Evan to find his own items later.
Then he pulled sheets and blankets out and set them next to Evan’s clothes. He’d offer him the bed with fresh linens and he’d sleep on the couch. Or…
Tommy shook his head. This wasn’t the day to think about that.
He returned to the living room and found Evan curled on the couch under the blanket he must have remembered Tommy kept in the ottoman. The remote was in his hand, nothing yet selected.
And he was asleep.
Tommy watched him, his chest feeling both too full and desiccated at the same time. He had everything. And nothing.
But today wasn’t the day to think about that.
He gently pulled the remote from Evan’s hand and turned off the television. He’d take the food to the kitchen, eat his own burger, and then go to his room and maybe leave the door open in case Evan woke up later.
But first.
He made sure the blanket was covering Evan’s legs well enough - his injured leg seemed to run a little colder - and then, unable to stop himself, leaned in and brushed a kiss on Evan’s forehead. Evan stirred slightly then settled again.
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here's another snippet for the crash that jeep wip
-
“Kinard!”
Sal Deluca was a fucking Godsend some days.
He didn’t want to move from Evan’s side and only did so because the paramedic Sal brought with him elbowed him out of the way. She immediately called for backup through her radio.
“We have a child in the back still,” Tommy managed as he tried his hardest to not interfere. He wasn’t there with the tools needed to extract Evan and he didn’t have the skills to treat him outside of applying the makeshift tourniquet.
Fuck, he was so useless.
Sal dove into action, using his Halligan to pop the buckled back door open and stepped back just long enough for a second paramedic to check Theo before he cut the car seat free the same way James did.
“T’mmy?”
Even over the sirens and shouting and crying, Tommy heard Evan calling out for him.
“Yeah, yes. I’m here.”
“Go with Theo.”
He couldn’t think of anything worse.
“Evan…”
“He lost his par’nts in a crash. He’s all alone. Don’t let him be alone.”
It was Sal who shoved him to follow the pair that were scurrying off with the boy. “We’ll take care of him. Be with the kid.”
With the exception of his own, no other captain could have given that order and made Tommy obey, but Tommy trusted Sal above anyone else, so he reached in as well as he could to give Evan’s shoulder a squeeze – fuck, it would kill him if that was the last time he touched him – and followed Theo.
spontaneous BuckTommy kiss prompt for noooooo reason at all 🤭
"Surprised kiss"
of course! <3 ✨ Kiss prompts ✨
Tommy snuck into the kitchen, Evan’s music blaring as he iced cupcakes, his back towards the door. He was singing along tunelessly, one foot tapping as he moved between trays. Tommy watched and waited until he had put his icing bag down before sneaking up behind up, hands on his waist to whirl him around.
Evan opened his mouth in surprise, but before he could say anything, Tommy had covered his mouth with his own, one hand pulling him close as the other reached behind them.
Evan sank into the kiss, the way he always did, and Tommy grinned into the kiss, loving how well he could read Evan now.
“What was that for?” Evan asked when they pulled apart, one hand reaching up almost as a reflex to press his thumb into Tommy’s cleft.
“Nothing. Everything.” Tommy grinned, eyes crinkling. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Okay,” Evan said, still a little dazed as Tommy let his hand drop, turning and heading back out of the kitchen.
Tommy knew exactly when he looked at the trays again.
“THIEF!” Evan yelled from the kitchen.
Tommy smothered his laugh in the icing of his stolen cupcake.
Bitches!!! Several co-workers and I all just left a very unhealthy job (at least 5 of us all left lol). I sent your article ‘The Resignation Checklist’ around to everyone before we did. This is a message my co-worker sent me- she went over the checklist and realized she had PTO that wouldn’t have paid out and used it before she left!!! I used the checklist myself and before I left: quit at the beginning of the month to get an extra month of insurance, am going for a physical and dental cleaning, went and got an eye exam and new glasses through my vision insurance, made sure my 401k was vested, and redeemed some company rewards points for a gift card! I especially would never have thought about new glasses without your list and am so excited for them. Just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you and that your article was a hit with my work friends- thank you!!! <3
OH HONEY!!!! Damn this brings tears to our eyes. We're so thrilled for you and your coworkers!!! It's a huge honor to know that we helped you guys out in your quitting journey.
For everyone who still needs it, here's our resignation checklist:
The Resignation Checklist: 25 Sneaky Ways To Bleed Your Employer Dry Before Quitting
Do y'all ever think about the night Buck and Tommy first had sex and how Tommy slid his briefs down and Buck took one look at his hard wet dick and burst out laughing but Tommy didn't have a chance to feel hurt about it because Buck was wide-eyed and shocked and fascinated like "Oh shit, this is what they mean by monster cock I guess because there's no way I'm going to be able to fit even a quarter of that in my mouth, is this why your jeans are always so loose, I bet my thumb and my middle finger won't even touch when I hold it, how are you still conscious like at least 4/5ths of all the blood in your body has to be in that thing, have you ever knocked shampoo bottles off the side of the shower with it, how much does it weigh, wait I have a tape measure around here somewhere I want circumference numbers don't go anywhere!" while Tommy was standing there absolutely baffled and still turned on for some reason while Buck rummaged around in his little tool kit hard as a rock and babbling about how a dick that big had to noticeably affect Tommy's center of gravity?
#the first time buck fully takes tommy's cock he stares at the ceiling and whispers 'i'm a rotisserie chicken'#while tommy drops his head and thinks with stratospheric despair 'i can't believe i'm going to marry this guy someday'#bucktommy#bucktommy headcanons#also this is based on a true story AMA
could not leave this in the tags 🤣
@rcmclachlan - how does it feel to be a comedic genius? 😂😂😂😂
I love how it appears that Tommy is the grounded, well-adjusted foil to Buck's devil-may-care adrenaline junkie, but I also have to remind myself that Tommy was the guy who was asked to steal a helicopter and fly it into a category 5 hurricane on a hunch, and he was like, "yeah, cool, let's go."
Buck probably thinks Tommy's a rational, responsible adult, because he's so considerate and he owns a house and he's so methodical when he takes Buck apart in bed and he's got a 401k and a Roth IRA account. The helicopter heist flight was definitely an outlier.
But eventually he learns the truth: Tommy's batshit insane.
Like, they're hanging in bed one morning and Buck's on his phone trying to solve the math riddle Hen sent him, and he laments the loss of his lightning-enhanced skills. And Tommy, turning the page on the WWI biography he's reading, absently says, "At least you got them. All I got was 30% hearing loss in my left ear."
Buck slowly lowers his phone and demands an explanation, and Tommy, still focused on his book, tells him about when he was struck by lightning. Both times. The second time he was in the middle of a hoist and winch rescue trying to get to the captain of a sunk fishing boat in the middle of open ocean during a storm. Tommy holds his place in his book with his thumb and shows Buck the picture Lucy took of his Lichtenberg burn—it spans the entirety of his back and goes halfway down his arms. Buck stares at it, stunned, then takes the phone and book out of Tommy's hands, tosses them on the floor, and proceeds to suck Tommy's brain out through his dick.
The first time Buck goes to see Tommy at Harbor, Tommy is still en route back from a call, so Buck gets to talking to two people named Nico and Dana who've worked with Tommy since he arrived. Buck sheepishly apologizes for putting Tommy in such a dangerous position with the hurricane.
Nico and Dana look at each other and snort. Nico puts his hand on Buck's shoulder and is like, "Dude, that is not the craziest thing Kinard's ever done. That's not the craziest thing he's done this year."
They tell him about his legendary but batshit NATOPS check maneuvers and how no one's ever been able to figure out how he can do a barrel roll in low altitude in a transport bird.
They tell him about the time he and Donato were called to a high-rise gas explosion, and they casevac'd an unconscious, pregnant woman who ended up going into labor. Tommy got back there and, with the power of WikiHow on his side, delivered a healthy baby girl halfway to LA General.
They tell him about the time he sustained a concussion while landing a malfunctioning helicopter in the baseball field of a middle school, and yet somehow found the strength to host an impromptu AMA to three hundred kids about what being a pilot's like while he munched on tater tots and waited for a rescue.
They tell him about the time he was flying with a probie at night in an area with uncharted power lines that got tangled in the rotor, and how he slung the probie under his arm like a tote bag and dove out of the helicopter right before it exploded.
They tell him about the time Tommy and Nico were called to a cliffside mansion where some foreign dignitary's daughter was being held hostage. Tommy ended up HRSTing out of the helicopter and onto the scene, and then proceeded to beat the hell out of the guy, get himself stabbed, and give the SWAT team so much shit when they arrived that the 217 has an honorary table every year at the Backdraft Ball.
When Tommy finally shows up and disembarks, Dana's halfway through a story about the time they were all called to Shasta County to help with the Carr Fire in 2018, and as soon as Buck sees him over Dana's shoulder, he shouts, "You flew into a fire tornado?!"
Tommy's expression goes a little hunted and he holds up his hands placatingly, like, "In my defense, I tried to find another way around it—"
And Dana's like, "The fuck you did. You looked me dead in the eye and said, 'You know what would be funny?' And then you banked right into the whirl."
"It's not like you tried to stop me," Tommy says accusingly, ignoring the way the side of his head is starting to smoke from the intensity of Buck's stare.
"Well, no, you were right: it was funny," Dana says with a shrug.
That night, Buck rides Tommy slow and vicious and makes him recount every detail of the fire whirl flight before he'll let Tommy come, and the entire time he grips Tommy's head and forces him to hold Buck's gaze and thinks, I can't believe I ever thought you were normal. You're insane, you're out of your mind, you're perfect, you're perfect, you're perfect for me.
In the afterglow, practically humming with satisfaction, Buck bites playfully at Tommy's chest and says, "So this is what Lucy meant when she texted me that you and I match each other's crazy. Hell, after everything you've done, I think the only thing left to check off your list is, like, aliens."
And Tommy's entire body freezes and he falls very silent very suddenly. Buck lifts his head to stare at him, like, "You've gotta be kidding me."
"Evan, for legal reasons, I need you to change the subject."
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6.11/ In Another Life AU where Buck keeps seeing glimpses of a man out of the corner of his eye during the coma; it's a helicopter that represents something/someone--Buck slowly becomes aware that he just keeps missing someone (red string/ships in the night); and it turns out Bobby died because Tommy wasnt there in the coma world to save him when that nursery fell through
Fondly remembering the time Buck screwed up on a first date and then thought about what he really wanted and then actually fought for it and the crowd went fucking wild, fans were so damn happy to see him actively pursuing a relationship instead of just letting it happen (or not happen), this is the turning point for Buck, they said, our boys all grown up and finally "making it" instead of just letting life happen to him.
Apparently Blackout Heat and Controlled Burn needed to have an emotionally unstable little AU baby.
Do I need another AU? No.
Am I actively writing this one? Also no.
But I’m cleaning out my Ellipsus documents, and since @letsdosciencetoit won’t let me delete all my abandoned little ficlets. You’re getting this chapter with the warning that I probably won’t update it again until at the very least Blackout Heat is complete.
Anyway, here’s what happens when I take Buck and Tommy’s history from Blackout Heat, throw it into Buck’s probie era from Controlled Burn, and make everything significantly worse. You're welcome.
Buck kept his eyes on the floor. Soot streaked the curve of his jaw. His hands were still shaking a little from the adrenaline drop he kept pretending he didn’t feel.
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“That’s not an answer Probie.” Sal stepped closer. Too close. “Do you want to get someone killed. Or is that part of the rush for you.”
Buck’s jaw twitched. “No, sir.”
“Then act like it.” Before Sal could push harder, a new voice cut across the locker room.
“That’s enough.” Bobby stepped between them. “Shift is over. Go home.”
Sal looked like he wanted to argue, but the captain’s look killed it. He shot Buck one last glare, grabbed his duffel, and stalked off.
Bobby turned to Buck and exhaled, he has kind eyes and tired eyes. “Go home,” he instructs. “Eat. Sleep. And for what it’s worth… you did good today. There was nothing we could've done to save that little girl. Her soul was gone before we arrived on scene. We just need you slow down, son.”
Buck nodded, he showered fast, dressed faster, and slipped out before he had to answer any questions about why he never joined the crew for post shift beers.
The drive home was a long, quiet stretch of road that gave him too much time to think, to replay Sal’s glare and Bobby’s tired eyes. By the time he eased into the driveway, his ribs ached and his pulse had settled back into that slow beat that used to mean he was safe.
He unlocked the door and the house met him with low lights and the faint scent of peppermint oil. Carla always left the diffuser on for Tommy’s headaches.
“Carla?” he called.
“In here, sweetheart.”
He followed her voice to the living room. Tommy was on the recliner with a blanket over his legs, head tipped back, eyes half open like he was fighting sleep and losing. Carla stood beside him with her hands on her hips, giving Buck that look she saved for men who refused to admit they were exhausted.
“He pushed himself too hard today,” she said. “Again.”
Tommy grumbled without opening his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re stubborn.” Carla picked up her bag. “He ate half his dinner. He did his exercises. He didn't listen when I told him to slow down.”
Buck crossed to Tommy and brushed a hand over his hair. “You good?”
Tommy cracked one eye open. “You’re late.”
“Shift ran long.” Buck let his fingers slip down the side of Tommy’s face.
Carla sighed like she’d been holding that breath for an hour. “Your turn to wrangle this amazing jawline.” She patted Tommy’s shoulder fondly. “Call me if you need anything baby. Especially if this stubborn jackass tries something stupid.”
Tommy muttered, “I can hear you.”
“Good,” Carla said, heading for the door.
Buck crouched beside the recliner and started checking Tommy’s vitals. “Did you try to walk on your own again.”
Silence.
“Tommy?”
Another silence. Then a low, guilty grumble. “Maybe.”
Buck huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You can’t rush it.”
A grunt of agreement or disagreement followed.
"You want to try for the bed?" Buck asked, his voice soft anticipating the mood shift.
Carla's hand was still on the door when Tommy's voice cracked through the house. "I'm fine here," Tommy bit out, turning his gaze to the television so as not to look at him.
She looked back. Buck caught her eye and shook his head once, small, a whole conversation compressed into it. Nothing. I've got it. She hesitated a beat longer than she needed to, reading something in his face he wasn't fast enough to hide, then let the door click shut behind her anyway.
"Tommy, come on. You'll sleep better in bed."
"I said I'm fine!" The words were a whip-crack. Tommy finally turned his head, his eyes blazing with a bitterness that had become his default setting. “Stop hovering. Just because you’re my goddamn keeper now doesn’t mean you have to micromanage every breath I take.”
Buck flinched back as if struck. “I’m not trying to…"
“Aren’t you?” Tommy’s laugh was a harsh, ugly sound. “You love this, don’t you? The great Evan Buckley, martyr extraordinaire. Playing nurse. Playing firefighter. Must be a nice, simple little life after the Teams. A walk in the goddamn park.”
His words finding a bruise Sal Deluca had left, each one twisting deeper because they came from the one person whose opinion still atomized him. Buck felt the careful, desperate walls he’d built around his heart begin to splinter.
Something behind his eyes dimmed as his next words came out soft. “You think this is a walk in the park?”
“Compared to what we did? Yeah, Evan, I do. You get to run around playing hero while I’m stuck in this chair. You get to come home late, smelling of smoke and whatever glory, while I can’t even take a piss without a plan.” Tommy’s chest was heaving, his face a mask of rage and pain. “So don’t stand there and pretend this is hard for you.”
Buck stopped breathing.
The room narrowed to the rasp of Tommy’s anger and the soft tick of the clock. Everything else fell away as something inside Buck simply gave.
His shoulders folding inward like paper held too close to flame. A broken sound slipped out of him, half laugh, half sob. His throat bobbled once, twice, like the words were fighting him.“I remember it.”
Tommy stared, his angry tirade dying in his throat. He had seen Evan hurt before, shot, concussed. But he had never seen him break, not like this.
“You don’t. But I do.” Buck’s hands trembled at his sides. “I was thrown from the chopper when we were hit. I had been readying to jump. I pulled my rip cord and slammed right in the middle of the enemies camp. I woke up and the bird was just… gone. A fireball in the dark. And I thought you were dead. I had to believe you were dead, because the alternative was that you were burning alive.” He sucked in a breath and rose to his feet. "It took Randy seventy-two hours to put together retrieval plan and roughly another eighteen hours to pull off."
He took a step closer, his eyes begging Tommy to finally, finally see.
"I saw the fireball and thought you'd crashed. But you got her down. Dogman and Hawk pulled you out... I read the reports after. I spent ninety hours in the dirt cellar."
The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the ragged sound of Buck’s sobbing. Tommy stared, his own rage forgotten, replaced by a dawning, horrifying comprehension.
Tommy’s fingers curled tight against his blanket. “Ninety hours?”
Buck nodded, the movement jerky. “This isn’t a walk in the park, Tommy. No one at the 118 knows who the fuck I am… to them, I'm just another stupid young probie. There are days it's worse than the teams. When I pull little kids from behind walls and hold little girls hands as they take their last breaths because we can't get them out in time or arrive too late." His voice shook as he revealed his worst call.
He looked at his trembling hands. "And I’m so tired. I’m paying Carla, I’m paying the mortgage. I'm fighting insurance companies. I’m fighting with your fucking father to keep him away from you, and I’m trying so hard to keep this house a home because your still in it.” His voice broke completely. “And you won’t even call me your husband.”
Tommy's jaw flexed, old instinct rose up fast and ugly. You want a medal for it. The words were right there, loaded, ready to fire the way they'd fired a hundred times over the past year because it was easier than the alternative.
But his eyes caught Buck's hand instead, shaking, ash and grease in the creases of his knuckles. The words died in his throat.
"I know you want a divorce," he hiccuped, wiped at his eyes, "I'll give it to you, as soon as you can walk out the door. I'll sign and do whatever you want… you're so close to walking again and it terrifies me, but I'll do it, I'll sign the fucking papers and you can be free of the martyr extraordinaire."
He tried to laugh. It came out like a sob.
His knees hit the floor, one moment he was standing, the next he was crumpled beside the recliner, his forehead nearly touching Tommy's knee. His arm came up over his eyes.
“Evan.”
Tommy’s voice was rough, disbelieving. He pushed himself up on one elbow, ignoring the scream of protest from his core muscles, forcing himself to look down at the man beside him. Buck had his arm over his eyes again, a barrier against the world, his throat working as he swallowed convulsively. “Evan, look at me.”
Buck didn’t move. A wet, choked sound escaped him. “It’s okay,” he whispered to the ceiling, the words horrifically calm, the calm of absolute devastation. “I get it. I’m… I’m a reminder. Of everything you lost. Of the crash, the chair, the… the life you can’t have. I’m just another piece of the wreckage you’re stuck with.”
“No.” The word was a command, a denial that tore from Tommy’s chest. He grabbed Buck’s wrist, pulling his arm away from his face. Buck’s eyes were squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners. “Look at me, damn it!”
Buck’s eyes flew open, wide and wounded and hopeless.
“You think I want out of this?” Tommy’s voice shook, his grip on Buck’s wrist tightening. “You think after everything you just said, ninety hours in a dirt hole thinking I was dead, paying Carla, fighting my asshole father, holding this whole godforsaken world together with your bare hands and you think I could walk away from that? From the man who did all that?”
Buck stared, confusion warring with the deep, ingrained certainty of his own worthlessness. “You said… you said I was your keeper. A martyr. You hate this. You hate me.”
"I hate me!" Tommy roared, the force of it surprising them both. "I hated this body! I hated this chair! I hated the world!"
His fist came down on the armrest, once, hard enough that the recliner shuddered. "And I took it all out on you because you were here and still loving me! I was trying to make you hate me back!" His voice cracked on the last word, the roar losing its edge halfway through the sentence. "Because then it would make sense that I was here, alone, in this hell! But you wouldn't. You just kept loving me. And it was driving me insane!"
The confession hung between them, ugly and true. Buck’s breath hitched. “Tommy…”
“I don’t want a divorce,” Tommy admitted, each word hammered into the space between them. “I never wanted one. I wanted you to stop looking at me like I was still worth loving, because every time you did, I had to look at what I’d become. And I couldn’t stand it.”
Buck’s face crumpled. “So you punished me for it.”
Tommy went still. It wasn’t accusation in Buck’s voice. It was recognition. Quiet and exhausted and far too late. “Yes,” Tommy whispered.
Buck pulled his wrist free.
“I’m sorry” rose into Tommy’s throat, but the words felt pitiful beside ninety hours underground. Beside the mortgage and Carla and insurance appeals. Beside every morning Evan had climbed out of their bed and gone somewhere strangers thought him young and reckless, only to come home and be treated like something worse.
Tommy no longer trusted himself to reach for him.
“Evan.” He forced his hand to loosen around the blanket. “What do you need?”
Buck laughed, small and empty. “I don’t know.”
It was the first honest answer Tommy had gotten from him all night.
“Okay.” Tommy swallowed. “Give me your phone.”
Buck went very still.
Tommy saw the thought cross his face. The lawyer. The papers. All the things Buck had already decided Tommy wanted.
“I’m calling Carla.”
“She just left.”
“Then she can’t be far.”
“I can get you to bed.”
“I know you can.” Tommy’s voice broke. “That’s the problem.”
Buck stared at him.
“You’ve been getting me to bed. Getting me dressed. Getting me to appointments. You’ve been paying for everything and fighting everyone and coming home to this.” Tommy gestured helplessly between them. “You don’t have to get me anywhere tonight.”
For a moment, Buck didn’t move. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and placed it in Tommy’s hand.
The screen was already open to Carla’s contact.
That hurt worst of all.
Tommy pressed call. She answered before the second ring. “Buck?”
“No. It’s me.”
“Tommy?”
He could hear the warning in her voice. The suspicion. She had seen more at the door than either of them had realized.
“Can you come back?”
“What happened?”
Tommy looked down at Evan, still crumpled on the floor beside him. At the soot caught along his throat. At the wedding ring he still wore despite everything Tommy had done to try and make him want to take it off.
“My husband needs me,” Tommy murmured, his voice shaking. “And I can’t help him from this chair.”
Buck’s breath caught.
“So I need you to help me,” Tommy continued. “So he doesn’t have to.”
Carla’s voice softened. “I’m turning around.”
Neither of them spoke. Tommy set the phone on the armrest and waited, resisting every selfish instinct that told him to ask Evan for comfort, forgiveness, anything.
apropos of my current theme: i was tagged to share by @corporatebanana & @sierranovembr <3
have some "buck goes to tommy post drug addiction (except i started writing this before the episode aired, so we didn't know it was oxy yet (would you give benzos to an addict? who knows))" wip
He told Tommy everything. He'd told the story a couple of times now, but different people got different details. No one had gotten the whole story, all at once.
His throat wouldn't cooporate, when he attempted to swallow. Lately, his body forgot how to swallow sometimes. Like the connection was severed and his brain no longer knew what muscles to use. The spit sat on his tongue, until the connection came back.
Tommy wasn't saying anything. He was upset, but he wasn't saying anything. He was sitting there, tears in his eyes, just looking.
”I don't know what to do,” he said quietly.
”No, of course not,” Tommy said. ”Of course you don't.”
”I'm back in therapy, but I– I don't talk about it. Everytime I try, my throat closes up.”
”Do you like them? Your therapist?”
”I think so. She's nice. And she doesn't mind when I don't say anything at all.”
”Does she know about the benzos?”
Swallowing was easier this time. ”No,” Buck said to Tommy's shoulder. There was a white piece of lint on his shirt. ”I lie about it.”
Tommy nodded. ”Are you on them now?”
”No. Couldn't drive, if I was. They make me sleepy.” He took a deep breath. And another one. ”I don't think I should be driving at all. I dissociate a lot.”
Tommy was trying his best to keep up, but Buck could tell he was getting overwhelmed. ”Is that a new thing?”
”Uh, no. I've been doing it most of my life. When I get injured, I tend to check out. Not when people are around, but when they're not. When I'm alone, I sort of … disappear. Especially in hospital rooms. Hasn't happened in a while, though. I think I forgot what it felt like. Or maybe it feels different now. It didn't used to scare me.”
”The meds.” Tommy shifted in his seat. ”Do the meds help with that?”
”No,” Buck laughed a little. ”They make it worse.” He laughed again. ”Prolonged use can give neurological problems.” He shook his head. ”I need to stop, Tommy. I need to get off of them. But I can't fucking exist in my own head. I– Please. Tommy, please.”
The first please had barely left his lips, before Tommy was up and out of his chair. ”I've got you. I've got you. I'm here. I'm here, Evan.”
Tommy's hand on the back of his neck was the only thing keeping him tethered to his body.
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Thinking about how differently Buck and Tommy probably handle bad days...
When Buck comes home from a bad shift, he's looking for contact. He wants to be close to Tommy and tell him about what happened. Tommy makes bitchy comments about the stupidity of people while he carefully massages Buck's aching leg.
Tommy on the other hand goes quiet. He needs to release the sadness and frustration through physical activity. Buck knows it's pointless to push him into talking, so instead they work out together, they run or do muay thai, until Tommy feels better.
Tagged this week by @corporatebanana and @devirnis - thank you so much for thinking of me! Also stealing open tags from @wearethecyclones and @nine-one-wanton because I enjoyed your snippets this week. Tagging back and gently poking @nosecrinklewrites, @leashybebes, @peppermintquartz, and @dharmaavocado because I am obsessed with your current projects and feeling brave.
Below the cut is the first part of ch 2 of the soulmate shared pain AU. Mwah!
Buck sits in the doctor’s exam room and feels like the walls are closing in on him. He presses his fist into his other palm, trying to feel grounded. He startles a bit when the doctor enters the room. He doesn’t catch the man’s name, but it probably won’t matter.
“What are you in for?”
“Uh, car accident,” Buck starts. “I broke three ribs a few weeks back and couldn’t get a follow up with my GP.”
“Any port in a storm.” The doctor keeps smiling, so Buck returns it.
“What’s your pain level?” He circles behind Buck. Buck lifts his shirt and the doctor presses on his back. “I don’t see any remaining bruising.”
Buck hums and drifts a hand over his breastbone. “It’s actually more localized in the front of my chest. And an eight. M-maybe even a nine, for the pain level.”
The doctor frowns, and swings around to the front of the exam table. “Well, no bruising here either. Was it just broken ribs? I can’t imagine you’d be sitting upright at this point if you’d had damage to your sternum that recently.”
“Ribs were the only thing broken on the x-rays.”
“Can you describe what it feels like in more detail?”
Buck sucks in a breath and tries to focus. If he were honest, the true answer is it feels like guilt. He doesn’t get it at all, he knows that he hadn’t ended up permanently hurting Bonnie or her ex-husband in the mess in New Mexico. But despite all his logic, the feeling is sitting in his chest, wrapped around a ball of pain that doesn’t seem to budge. No amount of medication or easy stretching has been able to break up the weight in his chest. But that’s not why he’s here. He’s here because the physical ache is starting to interfere with his ability to work. He does his best to describe it, but he can see the doctor isn’t buying it.
They go back and forth about where the accident took place and then the doctor accuses Buck of being drug-seeking.
“No, that’s not what this is! I’m not some kind of drug-fiend!” Buck is starting to get heated. He tries to bring his voice down. “I haven’t even finished the first prescription I got! They haven’t done anything since the first few days. And - and I know there’s reduced efficacy, but I haven’t been on them long enough.” He stops, trying to get his breathing back under control.
“Were you prescribed opioids?”
Buck nods. “I’m a f-firefighter. I can’t do my job if I’m hurting. There has to be something else.”
“There are other medications we could try, but they are pretty powerful and you wouldn’t be able to do that kind of work while on them anyway. Also, if your first prescription was working and then stopped…” The doctor trails off and stares at him from across the tiny exam room. He opens his mouth, hesitates for a moment, and then asks, “Mr. Buckley, are you bonded?”
The question hits him right in his aching sternum.
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