Fake Mouth Static

His head’s pounding and he’s pretty sure the sweat collecting at his temple isn’t because of the weather. He was fine this morning, but there’s been a slow, creeping roll of nausea in his gut, and every so often a shiver courses through him despite the warm air drifting in through the windows.

Now he’s curled up on the top of his bed, half on, half off his favorite pair of jeans. Jeans at this point he’d rather die than actually wear, and staring at the ceiling while the room tilts.

Tommy’s supposed to pick him up in an hour.

Last time Tommy was here, Buck kissed him.

Or, rather, Tommy kissed Buck.

And Buck hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.

Maybe that’s the problem – maybe it’s just nerves, that’s all this is. The nausea is only butterflies mistaken for panic, headache formed from clenching his jaw too tight, anxiety holding him hostage.  

Another shiver courses through him.

Yeah, no. Wishful thinking.

Buck can practically see the temperature before he even checks, reading out a fever he’d be hard-pressed to deny. He groans, shifts.

As much as he wants to push through – and he knows he could, he’s been through a hell of a lot worse – the thought of sitting in a crowded restaurant, surrounded by noise and heat and the smell of oregano and stale beer, makes his stomach turn so violently he reaches for the trash can.

When he rolls over to grab his phone, a wave of dizziness washes over him and he freezes, suddenly grateful he’s already horizontal and doesn’t have to navigate the staircase any time soon.

His thread with Tommy is already long – messages stacked with jokes, half-told work stories, pictures already littering the feed. Buck spares a breath to admire the one he stuck on the contact photo – a cropped image from one with his co-pilot – smile warm and broad, caught in the glow of a setting sun.

BUCK: Hey – hate to do this but I came down with something. Rain check?

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but he must’ve, because the buzz of his phone startles him awake.

TOMMY: Of course. Need anything?

Buck huffs a weak laugh, thumbs moving slower than usual.

BUCK: A new body? One without a foot in the grave, preferably. TOMMY: On it. I’ve got someone in mind but he’s bald. Dealbreaker? BUCK: Yeah, cancel that order. BUCK: I’m good though. Gonna sleep it off. TOMMY: Ok. Feel better.

Buck smiles at Tommy’s last message, face heating for reasons other than the fever. He still can’t believe Tommy wants anything to do with him – the jealousy that ran rampant in his chest soothed and smug at the thought.

When he starts to doze this time, the smile that clings to his cheeks sticks around until he’s out.

******

Tommy shouldn’t be here – he knows that.

Standing in the lobby of Evan’s building, it’s even nicer than he remembers – all sharp edges and dark metal.

The elevator barely makes noise as it carries him to Evan’s floor, but his mind certainly doesn’t have a problem filling in the quiet.

This is ridiculous, he tells himself, showing up at a practical stranger’s apartment. Arms full of takeout and a very questionable amount of over-the-counter medication. He’s aware, on a fundamental level, that this is…a lot.

They’ve been on exactly one almost-date.

When the cab stops on a floor beneath Evan’s and the doors slide open, he debates getting out and taking the stairs back out to his truck. Pretending this never happened and calling it a day.  

It’s too much, too soon. He’s gonna think Tommy’s weird. Tommy is weird for this.

Then he thinks about Evan’s smile – bright, earnest, and so damn adorable – and his feet stay planted.

Eddie and Howie can’t say enough nice things about him, pride always layered with half-teasing and eye rolling. That Evan’s loyal and funny and “pretty smart even though he doesn’t seem like it sometimes.” Christopher bragged about their trips to the zoo and the aquarium and how Evan saved him in a goddamn tsunami.

And what’s Tommy supposed to do? Tommy can’t just leave him alone, sick and miserable, when he was supposed to be out having a good night.

He’d do this for anyone. At least he tells himself that when he raps on the door gently.

There’s the sound of feet tripping and a quiet thump, followed by a muffled curse that makes Tommy grin despite himself – and the clunk of the deadbolt.

And then there’s Evan.

Cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with fever, wrapped in sweats with a throw blanket tossed over his shoulder. He stares, confused, blinking and then starts to shut the door like he’s looking for a camera or an alternate reality, before it swings back open and his gaze lands back on Tommy.

“Evan,” Tommy says gently. “Sorry to just show up but…can I – do you mind if I come in? You look like you’re gonna tip over.”

It takes another beat for  Evan to respond, but he shuffles back and mumbles, “T-Tommy you’re…why are you here? I thought I text–”

“You did,” Tommy says, already stepping inside and heading for the kitchen. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He sets everything down, grabs a glass, fills it with water.

“I don’t have a replacement body,” he adds, glancing back, “but I brought options.”

He nods at the table and Evan sits while Tommy carries over the glass, filled with water, and a stack of medications. He still looks like he’s lagging – like Tommy being here hasn’t quite caught up with his fever-addled brain yet.

He looks miserable and it makes Tommy’s heart ache a little.

“Maybe this will help,” he says, softer now.

Evan obeys, tipping pills to palm and swallowing them down all while tracking Tommy. He’s at the counter again, unpacking chicken noodle soup and sourdough, opening drawers until he finds a spoon.

Evan’s started to sink in his chair and is leaning against his hand, propped up by his elbow on the table. There’s heavy, dark circles under his eyes and Tommy can see the slight sheen of sweat across his skin every time he shifts in the setting sun.

Somehow, he still looks radiant.

Tommy fills a small bowl with soup and tears a piece of bread, tucking it against the side on a plate. He grabs that and the water and nudges Evan, who follows easily, as Tommy leads them to the living room. He sinks into the couch, pillow propping him up.

Steam curls from the dish as Evan reaches for it, humming softly when he pulls it to his face.

“You didn’t have t-to do this,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, but then what would I do tonight?” Tommy shoots back, glancing over with a small grin. “I was supposed to be on a date.”

Evan’s mouth twitches, a blush creeping in as he takes a spoonful of soup.

“Thank you,” he says. “This is, uh, this is really good.”

“Peggy’s Diner,” Tommy replies. “Near mine – best comfort food.”

“Consider me comforted,” Evan says sweetly, blanket tucked around him, soup balanced carefully in his lap.

“Movie?” Tommy offers.

“Dinner and a show,” Evan says as he takes a bite of his bread. Tommy’s glad to see he’s eating – he definitely looks like he can use the energy.

“Not a rain check,” Tommy says, settling at the other end of the couch. “Just…do-it-yourself.”

Evan nods, watching him scroll through options, stealing glances when he thinks Tommy won’t notice. He definitely notices.

It’s sweet, and Tommy knows he’s already half-gone for the kid – and really, who could blame him?

When Evan finishes what he can of the soup, Tommy reaches for the bowl and sets it on the table, skin brushing. Evan takes the opportunity to scoot closer and Tommy doesn’t stop him. Instead, he reaches for a blanket on the chair beside him and spreads it out.

Evan slides in when Tommy extends his arm, tucking into Tommy’s side. He covers them both in the blanket and it settles as they do.

The movie’s already fifteen minutes in, but Tommy struggles thinking of a single character’s name let alone any part of the plot.

Evan’s warm, gently pressed against Tommy’s shoulder, still uncertain but the pull of one another is so strong, neither can resist.

As Evan starts to nod off, he tips closer and hums when Tommy presses him against his ribs. Tommy’s fingers move without thinking, brushing lightly down his arm, slow and steady.

Evan’s breath starts to even out and Tommy can hear the soft rumble of a gentle snore that comes from his parted lips when Evan finally drifts.

It’s intimate in an entirely different way than his usual first dates, but it feels right.

There isn’t much Tommy wouldn’t do for his friends, but when he looks down at Evan it seems like there’s nothing that would get in the way.

It’s terrifying.

It’s equally thrilling.

Tommy leans his head back, letting the quiet settle around them.

The bitter taste of black coffee still sits on his tongue but just beneath it is the taste of Evan after a kiss – brief but sinfully delicious. Tommy meant it when he said he didn’t want to pressure Evan. He’d been through that song and dance before, and it never ended well.

A man just a little too anxious falling too hard, too fast. Tommy, on one side or the other, heart broken or breaking hearts at the tail end of a flame that burned too bright too soon.

But he’s not above admitting he’s glad Evan called. That he showed up and stayed. Somewhere between the awkward start and the easy conversation, riding on nerves and shared laughter and a wedding invitation, something changed.

Tommy hasn’t felt this way in a long time – the giddiness of a new relationship, the promise of something exciting, the way his heart thumps rapidly every time he even looks at Evan. It’ll either hurt like hell or be something real, and at this point, he forces himself away from cynicism, opens himself up to possibility.

If Evan can risk it, so can he.

He spots Evan near the edge of the lot and stops, eyes lingering on his broad frame. He’s haloed in the dipping sunlight, leaned against his Jeep. The sun’s catching in his hair, turning it into something warm and bright. Honey and amber and unfairly soft edges for a guy built like that.

Tommy starts to walk toward him, circling around another car – then he hears Evan’s voice. Tommy’d been so distracted by the shape of him, by the way he inhabits the world that he hadn’t noticed the phone at first. Too busy noticing…everything else.

“I-It went well, I think. He said he’d come to the wedding,” Evan says, and the way the word lilts up at the end proves he’s smiling when he says it.

There’s a brief pause and Tommy knows he should stop – stop listening, interrupt the call or retreat, leave Evan to the clearly private conversation he’s having with his sister.

“Thanks for inviting him,” Evan continues, softer now. “I think yo-you’re really gonna like him. I’m glad he’s giving me another chance.”

Tommy can’t help but lean a little closer – try to catch the impression he’d left and if it’s anything close to the one Evan left on him. Somehow, he doubts it.

“Tell Chim he’s my date – he’s already marrying you,” Evan adds, a little louder, and Tommy has to bite back a laugh. “Hey! Yes, he’s still cool even though he wants to date me.”

There’s another pause and Tommy can hear a jolt of muffled laughter through the phone even from the other aisle and he grins. He knows that laugh – happy to know Howie’s sense of humor hasn’t changed.

“I don’t know, Mads. I-It seems like…” he sighs and Tommy leans in closer still, tries to hear every breath between each word. “He’s really sweet. He’s…he’s gonna be good for me.”

The words leave Tommy breathless.

Good for him.

He isn’t good for anyone – not according to his deadbeat dad. His mom couldn’t even stick around long enough to find out; she made sure his rot didn’t infect her before he’d even turned one.

Evan is…he’s so charming, and bright and open and he cares so much about the people in his life. Tommy’s sure of it – he made it a point to find out.

Eddie brags about him like he raised the guy himself, and Christopher’s no different. Howie, never one to be serious, makes sure to talk about how much good he does for the people around him and his eyes shimmer with a soft kind of pride every time he does.

There’re endless articles about him and the heroic saves he’s made, putting his life on the line without question – and Captain Nash is quoted as saying he’s a great kid and incredible firefighter.

Tommy’s spent half his life pretending to be someone else just to get by and jerks off to Paul Hollywood sometimes.

Still, when Evan says it, it feels possible. If there’s ever someone that can finally pull him out of the worst parts of his past – make him want to be a better man – it’s Evan.

So he does the first decent thing that comes to mind. He backs up, quietly, and gives Evan the privacy he should’ve had from the start.

Tommy ducks back into the coffee shop, grabs a couple sugar packets on instinct, then heads out again like nothing happened. By the time he reaches the Jeep, Evan’s just ending the call.

“Evan!”

Evan looks up and smiles that goddamn adorable smile at him. Tommy holds up the wallet, and Evan immediately pats his pockets, eyes going wide before relief floods his face.

“Oh my god, thank you,” Evan says when Tommy reaches him and hands it over, warmth blooming where their fingers brush.

“Guess it fell out of your pocket,” Tommy says, inching closer. “Good thing you didn’t get far.”

“Y-Yeah,” Evan laughs, a little breathless. “I was just, uh, finishing a-a call.

Tommy hums and opens the door of the Jeep for Evan. Evan blushes, dipping his chin, and climbs in, smiling up at Tommy like he’d done something special.

And Tommy’s been there too. A sense of freedom that comes with knowing you can be treated well, doted on. Taken care of.

It melts the worry away as easily as it crept in, and Tommy might be selfish for asking, but as he’s gotten older, he’s slowly realizing its worth the trouble.

“A little sugar for the road?” Tommy asks with a wink, leaning in.

Evan doesn’t hesitate, nods so fast he looks like a bobblehead, meeting Tommy halfway.

Tommy waits.

Right until Evan closes his eyes–

–and slips the sugar packet between their lips instead.

Evan blinks, startled, then laughs, leaning back as Tommy holds it up like a prize. He takes it and rolls his eyes, leans back in for an actual kiss and Tommy doesn’t tease him twice. It’s already near-impossible to say no to the guy.

“Dork,” Evan murmurs with a grin and Tommy feels something settle he didn’t realize was out of place. A piece of himself so calm, it loosens the tension in his chest like grains of sand with a turn of the tide.

He smiles and shuts the door as Evan turns over the engine. The window rolls down with a soft whir and Tommy feels like he’s in high school again, biting his lip as he says goodbye to his best friend after class – the one he shared his own first kiss with.

Or – the first kiss that mattered anyway.

“Home safe,” Tommy tells him and Evan nods. Tommy doesn’t resist leaning in for one last kiss and Evan doesn’t seem to mind, humming into it until they part.

“I’ll see you soon,” Evan says with a smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “You will.”

“Wh’ don’t you l’ke me?” Evan mumbles, voice thick, slurring every syllable like it’s all one word.

Tommy glances over.

Evan’s sprawled across the hospital bed, ER noise humming steadily in the background, one arm tugged into a sling pressed to his chest after getting yanked out of its socket and shoved back in. The morphine is doing work. His eyelids droop heavier with every blink and hauling them back open appears to be a Herculean effort if his grimace is any indication.

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks, careful.

Evan smacks his lips and shifts, wincing and grabbing for his shoulder before giving up and sinking back into the bed.

“Y’took ‘ddie in a hep…helpi…heli…” he frowns, frustrated, then gives up and spins his finger in the air like the blades of a helicopter.

Tommy’s doing his damndest not to smile but it’s a Herculean effort all on its own.

The way Evan’s so open with his feelings, the way his eyes shine like he’s grown straight from the ground itself, effortlessly beautiful only comparable to nature. He breeds a calming energy in a way Tommy can’t really explain.

“I did,” Tommy admits, stepping closer to the bed. Evan perks up – just a little – when Tommy’s within arm’s reach, hand twitching like he wants to reach out and grab onto him.

Evan shrugs and pouts, fingertips tracing against the sheets. “’nd you did karaoke,” he adds, voice thick with betrayal.

“We did,” Tommy says, softer now.

Evan’s pout grows and his brows tilt down, knitting together and creasing at the center. He’s so ridiculously endearing, even in his anger, that Tommy feels a pang in his chest that he’s the reason it’s there.

Evan opens his mouth again, then shuts it, blinking back up at Tommy. His eyes shine, just a little too bright, and Tommy doesn’t wait for that to turn into something worse.

“I wasn’t trying to come between you and Eddie,” Tommy says, dragging a chair closer and sliding into it. Evan exhales and sinks into the pillows just a little more, like Tommy sticking around settles him somehow.  “And Christopher would definitely never forgive me if I tried to replace you. The kid loves you.”

Evan beams at that, head tipping down like he wants to hide his smile. Tommy wishes he wouldn’t, only wants to see it more – see the whole thing wrapped up into his cheeks where it belongs.

“Plus,” Tommy adds, leaning forward a little, “I was hoping to make it up to you. Howie said he’ll take Eddie home if I can give you a ride? Figured I owe you…”

Evan’s head snaps up so fast T Tommy winces preemptively for his shoulder, but he’s nodding and the smile’s getting broader, so Tommy grins, hoping somehow the joy Evan exudes will seep into him. God knows he could use it.

“Y-Yeah,” Evan rushes. “If you don’ mind.”

“Hey, hey – easy,” Tommy says, standing as Evan starts to sit up like he’s about to sprint out of the hospital. Tommy gently nudges him back into the bed and when their skin collides it’s unlike anything else. A jolt, a warm buzz, a heady connection unfamiliar in a way that makes Tommy pause half a second longer than he should.

“We gotta wait for them to discharge you,” he says.

“Oh, s’you’re a doctor too?” Evan slurs, smirking and rolling his eyes dramatically. “Firefighter. Pilot. Army. Doctor. Figures.”

Tommy laughs under his breath and pulls the blanket up over Evan’s chest. It feels oddly intimate, tucking him in like that, but Evan doesn’t seem to mind. He just latches onto Tommy’s hand and drags it along with the blanket, like it belongs there.

Tommy doesn’t argue, instead letting Evan’s heavy eyelids finally stick closed as sleep finally wins out.

It’s three hours before he’s let loose. Another thirty minutes to make it down the ramp and into the truck, because Evan insists he’s fine right up until he nearly eats pavement every third step.

In the passenger seat, Evan tries to stay awake and fails. Tries again, fails harder.

By the third time his head drops and jerks back up, Tommy reaches into the backseat and hands him a hoodie.

“Here,” he says. “It’ll be a little bit, save your neck. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Th’nks,” Evan murmurs before stuffing the hoodie under his head already half-gone again.

He’s out in under a minute, snoring softly, and Tommy turns the radio down to a low hum as he winds his way slowly towards Evan’s place.

When he pulls into the lot, it takes a hell of a lot for Tommy to reach for Evan and wake him.

He looks so peaceful like this that Tommy would rather let him sleep, lips parted, tension in his brow finally loosened, shoulders slumped where he’s curled against the seat.

Getting him upstairs is…a process.

By the time they make it to the apartment, Evan’s a little more alert but still sways every time they stop. Tommy snags his keys and lets them in, guiding Evan to where he would expect a couch to be, finding only empty space.

“You don’t have a couch?”

Evan shakes his head and huffs, “No. ‘ts a long story.”

Tommy slips him into a kitchen chair instead and starts searching for a glass in the cabinets. He pulls out Evan’s prescription and tips a couple of pills into his palm, sliding them and the full glass of water into Evan’s space.

“Take these. Do you have any ice packs?”

“Fr’zer,” Evan murmurs. He does as he’s told before slumping back in the chair, face pinched in pain.

Tommy rustles around, grabbing an ice pack and towel before turning back to Evan. “Want help getting to bed? I can grab anything you need.”

Evan nods and takes another shaky breath. “Y-Yeah th’d be…yeah.”

Tommy gives him a couple of minutes to rest, refilling his water and collecting everything in his arms. He reaches out and squeezes Evan’s good shoulder when he gets back to the table.

“Come on,” he says. “Then you can sleep until morning.”

They shuffle up the stairs one at a time, slow and careful.  

“I got it,” Evan insists, immediately almost falling backward.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Tommy mutters, sliding an arm around his waist to steady him.

The thing about it is – it fits. It feels right, feels far too easy.  

Like they’ve done this before. Like Tommy knows exactly how much pressure to use, exactly where to hold him so he doesn’t tip.

Tommy shakes the thought loose and re-focuses on getting Evan settled somewhere safe.

“One step at a time,” he murmurs. “No rush.”

Evan leans into him, each breath pressing him closer to Tommy’s side, humming softly. “Y’re so…” His hand presses flat against Tommy’s chest when they reach the top step.

“Strong,” he decides. “An’ beefy.”

Tommy’s been called a lot of things, but he doesn’t think beefy has made the list quite yet.

He laughs and moves Evan toward the bed. “Beefy?”

“Yeah,” Evan says, deeply serious as he drops onto it. “An’…you’re so…”

Tommy starts to adjust the pillows so Evan will be upright, pressed against them at the head of his bed. After a moment, he glances at Evan, making sure he didn’t drift off again. His eyes are glazed, cheeks rosy.

The pain meds are definitely doing their job.

“So…?”

Evan sighs and licks his lips, thinking.

“How’re you so pretty?” he asks finally. “An’ strong? Boys aren’t s’pposed to be pretty.”

Tommy pauses then smiles despite himself, heat creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. “Yeah?”

Evan nods like it’s obvious, already tugging off his shorts one-handed. Tommy helps him into sweats, steadying him as he grips loosely to Tommy’s shoulders.

“’nd you took ‘ddie to Vegas. And karaoke,” Evan says again, circling back like it’s important. “But I wanna do stuff with you. ‘nd look at your pretty face.”

Tommy can’t stop it, the full-throated laugh that climbs his chest and worms its way out untouched. How could he want anything to do with Tommy?

Tommy doesn’t mind saying it – he’s boring.

He does the same hobbies he always has, watches the news every night, makes sure his training hours are turned in early every year, wears work boots on dates.

And Evan is…adorable and sweet and infinitely charming. He’s so hungry to learn that it makes Tommy want to learn everything about Evan and the world around him.

“You do?”

It’s so easy between them, the rhythm of their shared touch, the way they move with one another. Instinctive and ingrained.

“’course I do,” Evan says. “’nd I kinda wanna kiss you.”

Tommy’s busy slipping Evan’s shoulder back into the sling, careful and delicate so he doesn’t feel an ounce of discomfort. The words startle him into stillness, just for a second, but he recovers quickly, kneeling and pulling a pair of socks over Evan’s bare feet.

When he finishes, he stays there, looking up.

Evan’s pout is gone and the shimmer of the sun sparks against his blue eyes and it happens before he can stop himself. Tommy doesn’t think before he moves, leaning in for a small, chaste kiss. One that feels natural and warm and every bit as peaceful as he’d imagined.

Butterflies climb up his ribs and into his chest and they stay there, just a moment longer, before Tommy pulls back, thumb brushing over Evan’s cheek.

“All you had to do was ask.”

Evan’s looking up at Tommy like he’s the last one on earth. Like the world outside has ceased to exist and this pocket of time is only for them.

“C’n we do that again?”

Tommy laughs softly, guiding him back against the pillows, adjusting them until he’s comfortable. He leans down and presses another gentle kiss to Evan’s lips and Evan hums into it, lips curling into a smile Tommy can feel more than see.

By the time Tommy pulls back, he’s already drifting, words slurring into sleep.

“Th’nks…f-for the ride. An’ the…kissing and stuff.”

Tommy smooths the blanket over Evan and holds his hand there so he can feel Evan’s breaths start to even out.

“Anytime,” he says. “I’ll call you. Take you on a date that doesn’t involve catastrophic injury.”

Evan lets out a sleepy huff of a laugh. “M’free.”

“You don’t know when I–”

“Doesn’t m’tter. I’ll be there,” Evan says, voice growing softer each word until he starts to snore again.

Tommy lingers a second longer, tucking the ice pack into place, setting the water within reach.

On his way out, he grabs a scrap of paper from the table and jots something quick, jogging up the stairs and sliding it under the glass.

Call if you need anything. Looking forward to our date. It’s been 0 days since Evan’s last injury (let’s get a good streak going). – Tommy