Untitled

He was breathing weird.

Fresh air. He should go outside and get some air.

He turned on his heel and went further into the building, toward the stairs.

He pushed the door to the roof open and stumbled toward the edge. It was too hot to stand around in the sun, in the dark fabric of his uniform. The sun was bright and blinding. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, but he couldn't see the screen. He fumbled the brightness up.

He found his thread with Tommy and sent off a,

congratulations

It felt like the right thing to do. All this time, he'd thought it was open ended. That there was still a possibility there.

The door was closed now. Tommy was marrying someone else.

Tommy found someone else.

Buck felt stupid more than anything. Why did he think it would work out? How childish it was to think Tommy was waiting. Why would he? Tommy had given him a chance to start over and he'd fucked it up in less than twelve hours.

Why would anyone wait around for someone like that? It wasn't like all those stupid movies Tommy was always quoting. Things didn't miraculously work out, just because you wanted it enough. There was no such thing as being meant to be.

His phone went off in his hand. He unlocked the screen. There was no new message, but Tommy had reacted to his message with a thumbs up.

Buck's hands went cold. Tommy had never reacted to a message ever – let alone with a thumbs up.

Buck called him.

”Evan – ”

”Are you OK?”

”What?”

”Is this a hostage situation? Or DV?”

” … I'm not sure I understand?”

”You reacted with a thumbs up.”

Tommy sighed. ”Evan, it's … I'm fine.”

”Do you even know where the thumbs up emoji is in the menu? You have never sent me an emoji that made sense, in any context, ever. What's going on?”

Tommy was quiet in a deeply ominous way.

”Can we meet? I can't have a fucking– A papertrail.”

Buck's eyebrows attempted to escape his face. If Tommy's paranoia had kicked in, something was deeply, deeply wrong.

”I'm four hours into my shift. And so are you.”

Tommy sighed again. ”Obviously, it can't be right now. And we can't be seen together, so I can't come meet you.”

”Hold on, hold on – we can't be seen together? Tommy, what the fuck.” Tommy made a small, distressed sound that did nothing to soothe either one of them. ”Tommy. My heart is about to fall out of my ass, I need you to tell me you're safe.”

”I am safe. It's just,” he took a breath. ”I don't know how to get out of this.”

”Get out of what? Your engagement?”

”My situation.”

”Can I be seen at Harbor?”

”What? Why?”

”If I burst into tears, I'm pretty sure Chim will send me home, so he doesn't have to fix it. Can I come to you?”

”Fuck. Shit. Let me get back to you. Gimme, like, ten minutes.”

The phone went silent in his hand. Ten minutes. He could have so many panic attacks in ten minutes. His heart was racing, his fingers were tingling. Buck put the phone in his pocket and shook out his hands. Ten minutes.

It was more like five, when his phone rang. ”Oh, thank fuck.” He held the device to his ear, ”Tommy?”

”Remember that gastropub we went to? It was a converted warehouse.”

”The one the fire marshal shut down? What about it?”

”Meet me there? I've got an hour.”

*

Buck thundered down the stairs, slamming every door on the way. Everyone eyed him as he came into the loft.

”It's OK, I'm OK.” He looked at the kitchen. ”C-shift covered groceries, right? You think they bought flour?”

Chimney came up to him. ”Buck. Hey. Hey. Buck. Hi. Listen, how about you take the day off?”

”Why would I do that?” he sniffled and wiped at his eyes. It was sweat, but Chimney didn't need to know that.

Chimney straightened up and put his hands on his hips. ”Firefighter Buckley, I think it's best if I send you home.”

”Chim – ”

He held up his hand. ”Take the day off, do something nice for yourself. Please.”

Buck pushed out his bottom lip and hunched his shoulders. ”M-maybe that would be best. If you're sure?”

”Get out of here, Buck, we've got it.”

He rubbed his eyes a final time. ”Thank you.” He didn't run, but it was a near thing. He changed out of his uniform and packed his bag as fast as he could, and made his way to the warehouse.

He hardly recognised it, when he made it to the address. He spotted Tommy's truck and pulled up behind it. Everything was burnt down.

”Oh, wow. When did that happen?” he asked, as he tumbled out of his car.

”Two weeks ago.”

”You look like shit.”

”So do you.” Tommy huffed. ”No, you don't, you look great. Thanks for meeting me.”

”What's going on?” Buck asked.

Tommy opened and closed his mouth. He'd looked more cheerful when he'd broken up with Buck. ”I, uhm,” he swallowed. ”I think I just realised you have to know, in order to help.”

Buck could do this. He could help with whatever situation this was. He could be encouraging. He could.

”Whatever it is, I won't judge you.”

Tommy nodded. ”I think you should.”

”Right. OK. I will judge you a proportionate amount. Whatever you need.”

”Fuck,” Tommy muttered and ran his fingers through his hair. It was already standing up, so he must've done it a few times already. ”I'm engaged.”

”Alright. And?”

”I didn't propose.”

Buck paused his encouraging nods to frown. ”Right, OK, so your fiancé did.”

”He also did not propose.”

”I'm pretty sure someone needs to propose.”

Tommy laughed, ”You'd think so.”

”What happened?”

”He found a ring in my dresser. A ring I bought for you.”

Buck was pretty sure his heart stopped. He definitely stopped breathing. Tommy bought him a ring. When the fuck did Tommy buy him a ring? ”He thought it was for him.”

”And I didn't correct him.”

”Of course you didn't.” Tommy made a face, but didn't dispute it. ”How long ago was this?”

”Three weeks.”

Buck took a deep breath. ”That's not great.”

”I've had heart palpitations for three weeks.”

Buck's ears were ringing a little bit, but it was a pretty straight forward problem, even if his emotional involvement made it a hell of a lot more complicated. ”How can I help?”

”I don't know,” Tommy sighed and bent over, clutching his knees. Tommy was not this animated, unless sports were involved. It was stressful as hell.

”I need more information. Why can't we be seen together?”

”I don't know, I'm panicking.”

”I can see that. Fuck. We're supposed to be good in a crisis. What if we … What if you tell him you changed your mind? How long have you been together?”

”Uh. Two months? Three?”

”That is … That is very fast. Which could work in your favour! Tell him you thought you wanted it, but now that you're doing it, it's too fast.”

Tommy checked his watch and stood back up. ”Talking to him is the issue. He's excited.”

”Tommy. You cannot marry someone because they want to.”

”I met his parents over Zoom.”

Buck had a feeling they were only scraping the surface. ”You told him yours were dead, didn't you?”

”Obviously.”

Buck sighed, but he couldn't fault Tommy for that. ”If your dad ever steps foot in this fucking town, I'm killing him, so he might as well be.”

”Thanks.”

”You need to head back?” Buck asked, after Tommy checked his watch again.

”I was only granted time enough for a personal errand.”

”I've got the day off, so I've got time. Listen, I'll think of something. Worst case scenario, I speak to him myself, yeah?”

”I don't want that.”

”Neither do I, but it's an option. What's his name?”

”Matthew.”

Buck shivered. ”Ew.”

Tommy laughed, a little hysterical. ”You know nothing about him.”

”I don't need to know him to hate him. Get back to Harbor, I'll figure something out. I'll call you, so maybe change my name in your phone.”

”Already did.”

”What did you change– No. No, I don't need to know. Go.”

*

Buck went home. He did two circuits with the gym equipment in his backyard, but it did little to change anything. His heart was still racing, his ears were still ringing.

He was trying to keep his own feelings at bay, to help Tommy, but it was really fucking hard. So far, his only suggestion for a solution, was come over.

As it closed in on Tommy getting off work, Buck still didn't know what to do. He felt bad having offered a solution and then not coming up with anything. The only thing he had left to offer, was his support. He pulled up a map on his phone and started looking for places they could meet.

*

It wasn't exactly clandestine, but hopefully Matthew wouldn't think to come looking for his fiancé at a park with a one star rating.

Tommy didn't look any better. He sunk onto the bench beside, with a heavy sigh. He still had his phone in his hand, so Buck asked,

”What did you change my name to?”

”Eva.”

”You deleted one letter?”

”And two emojis.”

”You didn't delete those before? How the fuck did Matthew think you wanted to marry him?”

”Listen, the issue is Matthew is a perfectly nice guy and I can't devastate him, like I usually do. I can't keep doing that to people. He needs to feel like walking away is the better, more preferable option.”

”Right,” Buck said mildly. He knew he was being petty, but he couldn't not ask, ”Does the ring fit?”

”No. Matt has dainty fingers.”

”Would it fit me?”

”Yes. I measured.”

”What? How? When?”

”You have butcher's twine in your kitchen. I did it while you slept.”

”I moved,” Buck said. ”I still have the twine, but it's a different kitchen. Not that that matters.”

”You got your own place? Thank fuck.”

”I cannot keep having this conversation – I was subletting. It was my house.”

”Christopher's height is etched into the doorframe.”

”Give me your phone,” he held out his hand. ”I'm calling Matthew.”

They glared at each other for a moment, before scoffing in tandem and letting it lie.

”Thank you for doing this,” Tommy said. ”You didn't have to.”

”If the ring was for me, I think I'm partially to blame.”

”No, you're not.”

Buck kicked him in the shin. ”Let me help.”

Tommy sat up straight and crossed his arms, turned slightly toward Buck.

”What if I tell him I've been cheating since the start? That we were never exclusive?”

Buck made face. ”That's pretty shitty.”

”My reputation is already shit, there's nothing to salvage.”

”Your reputation is fine.”

”Oh, I'm sure Abby only had nice things to say about me.”

Buck wrinkled his nose. ”Point taken.”

”I could kill myself.”

Buck sighed deeply. ”Killing yourself is not a solution.”

”I think it is.”

”Shut up.”

They spent a long time, coming up with increasingly more elaborate schemes. Buck was willing to do any of them, if Tommy asked, but it was becoming clear that they weren't actually looking for a solution, they were just making them up for the sake of talking.

It was closing in on dinner time, when Buck asked, ”You're gonna tell him, aren't you?”

”Yeah,” Tommy nodded. He'd been quiet for a while now. ”Yeah, I am. I just needed to freak out first.”

”Want me to come with you?”

”I do, but I don't think you should.”

Buck watched him get out his phone and text Matthew. They went back and forth a couple of times, before Tommy exhaled and put the phone in his pocket.

”When's it happening?”

”Now. I need to head out.” He checked his watch.

They hugged, before Tommy left. Buck squeezed him as hard as he could, but didn't say anything. He didn't say good luck, didn't tell him it was for the best.

*

Buck didn't know how long it took to break off an engagement. For Matthew's sake, hopefully it took a little longer, so he could get closure.

Buck spent a few agonisingly long minutes imagining what kind of man Matthew was. What kind of man found a ring after two months of dating and thought it was exciting, instead of terrifying. A very optimistic one, for sure.

Maybe it was a shitty thing to do, he couldn't tell anymore, but he sent his new address to Tommy, along with,

if you want to talk

Buck went through the motions of making and eating dinner, and texting back some of the colleagues who had attempted to check in during the day.

He was hoping, but not expecting to hear from Tommy.

Buck had suds up to his elbows, when the doorbell rang. He wiped down in a hurry, pushed things onto the drying rack, and went to answer the door.

Tommy looked about the same, but tired.

”Come in,” Buck stepped aside.

They stood in the living room for a beat. Buck with a dish towel, Tommy with his hands in his pockets.

”How did it go?”

”I have no idea,” Tommy smiled.

”Can I see it?”

Tommy pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. It didn't look special. It was just a silver band. Buck turned it over a couple of times, before the inside caught his attention.

It was engraved.

Are you free Saturday?

”You can keep it, if you want. Put it in a trinket box or something.”

”You're not proposing?”

”No,” Tommy shook his head. ”Clearly, that is not on the table for me, message received, loud and clear, never again.”

”Are you free Saturday?”

”Yeah, I thought … I thought it was sweet, I don't know.”

”No, I'm asking – are you free Saturday?”

”I am,” he said, before it dawned on him. ”Oh. Oh, you're asking.”

In his periphery, Tommy can see Maddie's chin wobble, can see Howie shift closer to her. He's too focused on the little square on screen where he and Evan are seated next to each other, trying to parse what he can from the tiny version of Evan's face he can see there.

He squeezes Evan's hand, presses their legs together, tries to say I'm here, I'm here, I'm here without diverting the physical markers of his attention from these people he's met once (bad parents, good people, he remembers Evan saying once, before he tacked on but they're trying) who are doing their best to deliver this body blow to their kids in a way that won't wreck them.

There's some more talk - working out some possibilities for a visit. Logistics. Tommy doesn't pay much attention. He's too focused on the way the exhaustion on Phillip's face is getting louder by the second, the way he's clearly struggling to follow along, the way Margaret looks so afraid beneath the veneer of practicality that Tommy thinks she might shatter.

"I'm sorry," Phillip says after a few more minutes of conversation flowing around him and about him. "I think I need to lie down for a spell.

"Okay, dad," Maddie says, gentle. Evan nods along.

"We'll talk to you soon," he adds.

Phillip smiles, and Tommy doesn't usually see too much of a family resemblance, but that's Evan's best self-deprecating smile to a tee and it makes Tommy's heart seize painfully in his chest.

"Just so long as you don't expect too much witty repartee," he says. "Turns out you need more of your brain available for that than I'm currently working with."

Margaret says Phillip in the same instant Maddie says dad and their eyes brim with matching tears. Tommy's still got his eyes on miniature screen Evan though, and sees him go through a face journey that expresses relief and amusement and horrible pre-emptive grief in the space of a split second.

"Whatever you've got," Evan says.

"We love you," Margaret says. "We'll call soon."

And then the video call is down to two connections.

"Jesus," Maddie says, and wipes her eyes.

Evan nods, his face calm and stoic and so clearly not allowing himself to feel anything. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Maddie doesn't try to wipe away the next spill of tears. "I have no idea."

"Let's talk later," Howie says, and Tommy nods.

Evan doesn't move, so Tommy has to use his free hand to reach forward and close the call. Evan still doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Doesn't take his eyes off the tablet screen as it fades to black.

"Hey," Tommy says.

Nothing.

"Baby," Tommy tries.

Evan sucks in a breath like he's been startled awake.

"I," he manages and then he crumples. Tommy scoops him up just in time for Evan to sob into his shoulder. It passes quickly and Evan pulls away from Tommy's clasping, anxious hold.

"Can't breathe," he says, snotty and stuffy, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Fuck. Fuck."

"I'm so sorry," Tommy says, and if he can't hold Evan like he wants he'll settle for running a hand up and down his back, as slow and steady and consistent as he can manage. I'll help, he wants to say. You can rely on me, I promise, I promise.

"I thought," Evan says. "Shit. I really thought something like this would be easier."

Than Bobby, goes unsaid. So does because I can prepare and because he loved me better and because I loved him more.

He cried for a minute, maybe two, but he looks like he's been weeping for hours. Red eyes, puffy eyelids, feverish cheeks. Tommy wipes away a couple of tears that spill and Evan takes a deep breath. Then another.

Then he says, small and scared, like Tommy's going to judge him for having a complicated relationship with fathers and father figures, he asks, "Can I say something?"

"Baby, you can say whatever you need," Tommy promises.

"We've been trying. He's been trying. It's been getting better and now - and now - " Evan's crying again by the time he gets the end of the sentence out. "And now it'll never just be good."

He lets Tommy hold him again but again, it's only brief before he rears upright and tries to breathe through his blocked-up nose and his trembling lungs.

"Shit. Shit."

Tommy's phone goes off and he ignores it at first. Evan wipes his face and says, "You should check that. It could be work."

"They have other pilots," Tommy tells him.

"Please," Evan insists, his chin wobbling.

Tommy will do anything he can right now to make this easier so he nods and scoops his phone up from where it's sitting beside the tablet on the coffee table. When he unlocks it, he sees that he's been added to a group chat: him, Howie, and Phillip. There's one message:

Look after them for me.

Once the wave of confusing, awful feelings has washed over him, he tilts his phone so Evan can see the screen. He lets out a brief, wounded noise and then laughs once, slightly hysterical before it gives way to honest-to-god giggles.

"What the fuck," he says wiping his eyes again. "I didn't even know he could make a group chat, that's - that's c-crazy."

Tommy lifts Evan's hand to his mouth, kisses his knuckles.

"Wanna DoorDash three different desserts and go to bed stupid early?" he offers.

Evan's smile is a brief, trembling, beautiful thing.

"I want that so much," he says.

Buck asks if he can come in and Tommy says yes. They continue the silence in Tommy's living room. Tommy doesn't know about any of it and Buck isn't eager to tell him. For the first time, he has a choice in whether he wants to share it — he doesn't.

His eyes keep drifting to the hallway that leads to Tommy's bedroom. He looks at Tommy. He knows he should ask, he knows showing up here is crazy, he knows he can't just go lie on his ex-boyfriend's bed. It would be a shitty thing to do, just waltz in, like he's entitled to any of it.

But he does it anyway. He walks down the hallway and pushes the bedroom door open. The bed is unmade, like it always was. He can see Tommy looking from the living room. It sits heavy in his chest, whatever this feeling is. Knowing he's not entitled to any of this. He can't just show up in Tommy's life whenever he wants to.

But he can't not do it. He opens the door the rest of the way, toes off his shoes and climbs into Tommy's sheets. He cries almost instantly. His whole body feels like his skin has been peeled off, but Tommy's sheets are soft and slept in. Everything smells like him. There's not phantom smell of vomit, no anxiety sweat. The sheets smell like Tommy's skin.

Any moment now, Tommy will come through the door and ask him what the fuck he's doing, ask him to leave, and he'll have every right to, because his crazy ex-boyfriend keeps taking advantage of the fact that he loves him.

Tommy never said, but Buck knows that Tommy loves him. Buck was afraid of jumping the gun and didn't say it first.

Tommy appears in the door, but he doesn't look angry or outraged or anything like it. His brows are furrowed in what looks like concern; an expression Buck is all too familiar with at the moment.

Tommy climbs onto the bed and lies down beside him. He doesn't say anything, doesn't demand anything. All he does is lie close and thumb a tear off Buck's cheek. Buck gathers a handful of the sheets and presses them to his face. They're already wet, but he doesn't know what else to do.

Tommy touches the back of his head and Buck's whole body curls up in what feels a lot like fear. Tommy holds on a little firmer. His thumb presses up behind Buck's ear, rubbing gently. A sob rips its way out of his throat, only slightly muffled by the sheets.

Tommy stays. His hand is warm and steady. Buck doesn't know how long he cries for. It feels like forever. There is still the occasional hiccup, when he moves the sheet away from his eyes. He looks at Tommy through the wet clumps of his eyelashes. He hasn't looked himself in the mirror in weeks. He knows he's halfway to a scraggly beard, but he doesn't know what it looks like.

He's holding the sheets against his mouth. The words are warm and humid, when he says, "I'm sorry."

"I've got you," Tommy says. He has no idea what's going on, has no idea why Buck is even here, yet that's the first thing he says. Buck can hardly bear it.

"I know you do," every word shakes on the way out. Buck knows he's a horrible person, knows he's taking advantage again, but he knows. He knows Tommy has him and he knows he means it. "I'm sorry."

Tommy pulls him forward, wet sheets and all, and tucks him against his chest. His arms feel like they did the last time he held Buck, and like every time before it. He feels solid and real in ways nothing else has for over a year.

Tommy doesn't ask for an explanation; not because he doesn't want one, but because he's giving Buck a choice. Tommy spent six months telling him you don't have to do that every single time someone asked him to do something. Every favour, every everything. Buck had brushed it off, hadn't understood the significance. He does now.

"I fucked up," he breathes into Tommy's chest.

With no context, Tommy says, "It'll be OK." Tommy hasn't been to therapy, but he carries strong beliefs about the world and the people in it. Death is the only thing you can't come back from, as he so eloquently and morbidly put it one time. And the thing is, Buck believes him. When Tommy says it'll be OK, it will. Maybe not the way you imagine it will, but things will work out.

Buck stays. They both do. In the bed, at first. Then the kitchen, where Tommy makes him eat, and drink water until he feels sick. He stays the night. And another night. Tommy doesn't ask, all he does is stay. He asks about the here and now. Are you hungry? Are you tired? Wanna go for a walk? He excuses himself to the backyard and makes a phone call. Buck assumes he's calling out of work, but Tommy doesn't say. Tommy doesn't offer, doesn't ask, he just does it.

Buck's phone is slowly filling up with text messages and missed phone calls. After two nights' sleep in Tommy's bed, he's rested enough that the reality of the situation hits a little harder. He's effectively gone missing right after a detox, as much as he's been answering the texts, saying he's fine. Tommy asks if he's missed a shift. Buck says he's on leave. Tommy doesn't ask for any more information than that.

The only call he ends up returning is Maddie's. He keeps it brief, says he's with Tommy. It sticks in his throat on the first try, but the second makes it out. "I'm safe." Maddie is still worried. He doesn't want to give her details, but she won't let up. "It's quiet here," he swallows. "I just need it to be quiet." He doesn't know why that resonates with her, but she eases up and says she'll let the others know.

After he hangs up, he looks at Tommy. The guilt sits heavy in his throat. Tommy is taking time off to be here. He's wearing Tommy's clothes, he's eating his food, he's taking up space in his home.

Tommy thumbs a tear off his cheek and says, "I've got you."

"I keep asking you to do stuff," he sniffles.

"I can be mad about that later," Tommy says, as if that's an option. "Whatever this is, whatever you're going through, this is more important." He ends it there, doesn't demand to know what this is.

It was comfortable, was the thing. Tommy didn't expect he'd find shared silence appealing, but he did when it was with Evan. Truthfully, he hadn't noticed when Evan fell asleep, because they hadn't been talking. They'd already made plans on the drive up. They were going back to Tommy's. His kitchen was already stocked, for the dinner they wanted to cook later.

Evan woke up at the sound of the parking brake. He snuffled a little and righted the brim of his cap.

The day hadn't turned out as warm as the forecast said, so the time they had alloted to showers, was spent on the couch.

”Do you get enough sleep?” Tommy asked into his hair.

Evan turned his head. ”What do you mean?”

”At night.”

”I do. Why?”

”You sleep a lot with me. Or rather, you sleep a lot around me.”

Evan looked into the middle distance. ”I guess I drift off here and there. Does it bother you?”

”I'd say concerned, not bothered. If you need the rest, I want you to have it.”

”I don't– I don't know if I need it, I'm just,” he blinked slowly, ”comfortable.”

Tommy couldn't make himself respond to that. It was too … too something. But the practicality was easy enough, ”You can ask for it. We can lie down together and nap, if you want.”

Evan got a complicated look on his face. ”I'm not really a napper. Not intentionally, anyway. Sometimes I sit still for too long and pass out.”

Instead of adding something unhelpful like I don't think you'd fall asleep, if you didn't need it, Tommy held him a little closer and snuck his fingers up under the edge of Evan's t-shirt sleeve. He could feel the tension in his shoulders, against the underside of his upper arm, so it didn't come as a surprise, when Evan got a little defensive.

Evan avoided looking him in the face, like he did when things got a little too vulnerable. ”I like your space. Your house, your truck.” He shrugged. ”I feel like I can breathe here.”

”You can't do that at home?”

”I hadn't really thought about it, but I guess I can't.” He shifted around, in a way that looked uncomfortable. ”It's just, I'm always sort of expecting company? Especially since Jee started liking people other than her parents.”

Tommy looked around his living room. It was messy, like it always was. He was used to living alone, and people rarely came over. He didn't have a lot of people to have over. He didn't tidy for the sake of guests. The second arm chair was always covered in laundry. Projects were littered all over the place. The dining table was always covered in something that needed fixing, and the only clear corner, was only big enough for one person to eat off of.

Evan had left a hoodie behind not that long ago, and it was in the exact place he left it, when he came to retrieve it, because Tommy didn't move it. Tommy didn't even notice it was there. It had been a long process to get to this point. To allow himself to take up space. Leaving tools on the coffee table didn't matter, because it was his, and it didn't bother him. He didn't mind pushing a screwdriver out of the way, to put his feet up. He didn't mind the laundry, because he didn't use the chair for anything else.

”If it's all the same to you, I'd like to move to the bed. Woke up with a crick in my neck.”

Evan smiled and called him an old man. He got up first and pulled Tommy up. They curled up in Tommy's bed, and Evan was out in minutes.

It took Tommy a little longer than that.

The hike wasn't long enough or hard enough for either of them to sleep that long, but Tommy felt a lot like an old man, when he woke up in a room bathed in afternoon sunlight. Next to him, Evan made a sleepy old man sound he felt in his soul.

Evan yawned, big and unselfconscious. When he saw Tommy was awake, he smiled softly and wiggled closer.

Evan had this look in his eyes sometimes. Youth was the only word Tommy could think of that came close. A naked honesty only children had. Before they grew old enough to understand that people lied sometimes. Evan wasn't naive, not by a long shot, but he'd managed to hold on to parts of himself, parts that hadn't survived in Tommy.

He had that look now. ”I feel safe with you.”

He didn't have to say it, Tommy already knew. Psychology wasn't his strong suit, but he knew what it felt like to think he was fine, only to suddenly be fine. To suddenly feel safe and realise how much he was aching with it before.

Why Evan felt that way with him, he didn't know. Why Tommy of all things, made Evan's body feel safe. He swallowed down the urge to push back. Whatever answer Evan came up with, Tommy wouldn't believe it, even though he wanted to.

Tommy wanted to believe he was good or special in some way, but the thing Evan saw in him, wasn't something he was doing on purpose. Tommy wasn't going out of his way to make Evan comfortable, or happy, or anything else. Whatever he was doing, he wasn't doing it for anyone's benefit, but his own. Even if Evan couldn't see that.

”I'm glad,” he said.

Evan smiled, pleased, and moved close enough for their noses to touch. ”You snore,” he said, like it was charming.

”So do you.”

Evan giggled. ”Probably worse than you, huh?”

”You got a deviated septum in there?”

Evan gaped. ”My septum is perfectly fine, thank you!”

”You sure?”

Evan tucked himself under Tommy's chin and said, ”I'll have you know I broke my nose once and the doctor said it healed really well.”

”How'd you break it?”

”The important thing is that my nose is fine.”

Tommy: Do I need to make a reservation?

Buck replies and then hops in the shower.

45 minutes later, there's a knock at Buck's door. Buck opens the door to see Tommy in his usual date attire; dark jeans, black button-up with the top three buttons undone. "Oh, you're—"

"You're not—" Tommy's brow furrows as he looks at Buck in his tank top and basketball shorts; his hair still damp.

"I think—there may have been some confusion, on my part, when we were texting."

"Okay…"

Buck rubs the back of his neck. "It's just—when you said you were in the mood to eat out—"

Tommy raises an eyebrow.

Buck shakes his head and laughs quietly. "I should have known when you asked about reservations."

Now both of Tommy's eyebrows are raised and his lips part in surprise before settling into a teasing smile. "So when you said you know a place that's open all night…"

Buck's cheeks flush and he's half-tempted to shut the door in Tommy's face. "Can we please pretend this never happened?"

Tommy gives Buck a sympathetic look as he steps into the apartment and shuts the door. "Now you know me better than that, baby."

Buck wants to protest, but then he's being turned around and pressed against the door. "You're—uh—not disappointed?"

Tommy puts his hands on Buck's hips as he kisses him. "No, but I am starving."

The embarrassment comes rushing back and Buck wants to bury his face in Tommy's neck. He glances at the kitchen. "Right…sorry. I mean I do have some groceries, we could—"

Tommy chuckles as he slides his hands down to Buck's ass and squeezes. "Evan…"

Buck swallows hard as a different type of heat floods his veins. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh…"

and buck. thinks about it. thinks about all the things he could do to tommy without tommy even knowing, without tommy really being there, a rush of images flooding his mind, and he feels a little sick at the same time his dick twitches in his boxers. "you'd be asleep though. how'd you tell me to stop if you want me to stop?"

"i don't want you to stop."

"tommy."

eyes still closed, tommy raises a bitchy eyebrow. "evan."

"you don't..." buck swallows. "you don't know what i'd do to you."

despite the conversation, tommy's voice slows down in sleep. "i trust you. keep going. wanna get you off. don't worry about me."

'i trust you'. tommy -- tommy's insane, right? but as buck watches tommy's brow smooth over in sleep, buck doesn't get soft. with trembling fingers, he reaches out and strokes over tommy's chest again, and tommy doesn't move. tommy trusts buck.

buck moans when he straddles tommy, their cocks rubbing against each other through the fabric of their pjs. as buck watches tommy snuffle and settle back down, he thrusts forward. considering how tired tommy is, he's still pretty hard, giving buck something nice to thrust against.

buck isn't one to reject a gift like that. he ruts up against tommy's bulge, sure he'll get to something different soon. maybe he'll try blowing tommy again? his first try was a little embarrassing, he kept gagging and tears started falling from his eyes. tommy still came and said it was super hot, but buck can do better for sure. it's not like there's anyone conscious around to judge buck's skills this time. buck thrusts up against tommy again. and shouldn't buck do something nice for tommy?

carefully, buck moves to lie down between Tommy's legs, the pressure of the mattress against his hard cock a relief. buck watches tommy's face as he tugs down tommy's pj's, but there's no reaction. tommy's dick curves to the left as it comes free, and buck doesn't swallow down the drool in his mouth. he can use it; he loves a messy blow job, and even though he doesn't know how Tommy likes them, he can't exactly ask the guy right now, so buck'll go for what he likes. it's okay, though, tommy trusts buck.

buck grinds against the mattress as he drools over tommy's cock, using his spit as lube for his hand running over the length of tommy's dick. he can't take much more than just the head of tommy's cock. he sucks and swirls his tongue over it, using his hand to make up for not taking too much of it down, and it isn't too long before tommy's hips are twitching up, even as his face stays sleep-lax.

buck can taste the salty, bitter precome tommy must be leaking, and he moans around his mouthful. "ev'n," tommy murmurs with one more intense thrust that has buck gagging and rolling his hips against the mattress. he's so close, but he can't come before tommy does. tommy trusts buck. so instead he focuses on Tommy, tommy filling up his mouth so well and his cock twitching against buck's tongue and tommy grunting in his sleep as he fucks buck's face so gently.

finally, finally, tommy spills his come down buck's throat, and buck can barely swallow it down before he's humping the mattress a half dozen times and coming in his pants, forehead pressed against tommy's hip as he moans, "fuck, fuck, fuck."

tommy isn’t waiting for him at any point between the garage and the door to his unit so buck figures he made it inside ok. but at first glance, there’s no tommy. but then, faintly, he hears a pulsing rhythmic beat and laughter coming from his upstairs bathroom under the hush of the shower.

his heart rate picks up and he feels a giddy smile stretch across his face.

buck isn’t really sure what the boundary is here, as he climbs the stairs, but then he sees the door to the bathroom cracked open a few inches—avoidable, if he wants, but likely an invitation, if he wants.

the song is familiar, he thinks; even if he and maddie practically lived under a rock for most of the 1990s and beyond, this was everywhere. unavoidable. some small part of him feels soothed as he hears tommy sing along, loudly, goofily. buck isn’t on the outside of an inside joke, even if he doesn’t know allll the words like tommy seems to.

his curiosity and his eagerness and want are at war, so he ends up pulling his shirt off as he pushes open the door, and as his shirt pops over his heated ears, he sees—

He’s in his first year of high school when Jason, a kid who has hated him for as long as he could remember, asks if he can join on one of those weekend hangs. Theo is confused and Evan and Tommy are a little concerned, but they decide to give it a shot. And it takes some time—Theo and Jason do have a few mutual friends—but slowly, Jason comes out of his shell. After a few months, Jason asks if he can come over for the weekend. It’s a four day break and half the students are headed out of town. Evan and Tommy don’t really have any plans beyond the fact that Evan took several days off and Tommy—who has retired from the LAFD at this point—also didn’t take any flight training appointments. They figured they’d feel the weekend out in terms of plans. Still, when Jason asks, they say sure. Why not. They know how teenage boys are, and try not to ask too many questions.

Friday night comes and goes. Saturday includes a trip out of the city. They take the boys to Runyon Canyon and hike for a while before getting all the junk and snacks on their way home as a treat. After dinner and showers, the boys head to the basement while Evan and Tommy curl up in their bed. Tommy has a movie marathon planned—assuming Evan doesn’t fall asleep ten minutes into Rush Hour 2.

It’s Tommy who wakes up at 230 in the morning when Theo knocks on the door. Evan is half across his chest, drooling a patch into Tommy’s olive Carhartt t-shirt, but he grumbles awake when Tommy sits up.

“I feel like a dick,” Theo whispers to Tommy in the dark. When Tommy gives him the expression telling him to continue, Theo shakes his head. He’s quiet for a moment.

“We were playing MLH Hockey for a while. He started to get tired so I said we should lay down, and he asked if we could watch this old movie. Something from the 2010s.”

Tommy tries not to cringe at the suggestion of the decade that made up his twenties and thirties being old, but he doesn’t stop Theo. Weary as he may be, Evan listens as well, although his eyes are closed, trusting his husband to handle this one.

“I don’t know,” Theo murmurs. “One minute we were laughing, and the next, he was asking about my mom and dad. Saying he doesn’t understand how I…keep it together? I guess. And I mean, we’ve known each other since second grade. He’s heard me talk about how we did therapy as a family, and also by myself. How you and dad have talked about taking care of your mental health so that you could do more than just…I don’t know, go to work and not have that be all your life was?”

Tommy lets out a long breath, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Something like that. We both had our demons, individually. And your dad taught a great amount of people—including me—that talking to someone about the heavy stuff was easier than just continuing to stuff it down,” Tommy responds. “He wasn’t being mean, was he?”

Theo shakes his head.

“He just h-had all of these questions. Sometimes I was wondering if he actually believed me.” Theo pauses for a few moments, and Tommy watches him, waiting. “Did you know he’s never had anyone over at his house?”

Tommy shakes his head. Then again, Jason has only been in their house for the past three-ish months, so it’s not unheard of for him and Evan to not know that.

“I thought maybe he was gonna say he wasn’t allowed, or that he’s not embarrassed to be seen with his family or something.”

“He’s not?” Tommy asks.

Theo sniffs, staring at the floor.

“His mom died when he was seven,” he rasps. “A-and it’s just been him and his dad all these years. His dad has never been to any of our games, and… he said tonight, it’s because his dad was always working. His mom got really sick before she died, and-..”

“Medical expenses,” Tommy murmurs. Theo nods. He gulps.

“I thought maybe he was going to ask about my mom.” Theo sighs, wiping at his face. He looks up at Tommy. “They live in this tiny apartment. He showed me some pictures and videos on his phone. I asked if his dad is still trying to pay off all the debt from his mom’s death, and he said no. So I asked why they haven’t moved somewhere bigger, because I thought maybe he was trying to say he wanted his house to be the place everyone hangs.”

Tommy keeps listening. He’s not sure whether that thought is actually important to Theo, and he’s also fairly sure it’s not the direction the conversation is going. Theo shakes his head, sniffs.

“He…he said his dad-…he’s sick now, too. I guess he found out last year, and it’s not looking good. He’s been trying to get Jason set up at least little bit, because they don’t really have family, but they’re stretched and-..”

Theo sobs before he can stop himself, and that’s all it takes before Evan and Tommy are both pulling him in.

“And I have a home, and four parents who have loved me, and Kameron and Connors estate in a trust, and I-…”

“Trauma doesn’t disappear, so much as we learn to accommodate it,” Evan tells him softly.

“I know,” Theo answers. “It’s not that, though. It’s… he started coming over I guess because he wanted to be able to say my life is an act, that were not really like this.”

Evan and Tommy both watch Theo, each with a hand on his face, watching him closely.

“And then he stayed that first weekend, and you guys did that big breakfast on Saturday morning, a-and…”

“He got to see what a family looks like,” Tommy surmises. It took him a long time to settle into that even after he’d fully moved in with Evan and Theo, nearly a decade ago.

Theo sniffles again and nods. He looks up at Tommy.

“He said you told him a few weeks ago about your mom, and he’s been trying to figure out how to tell someone th-that they…they put his dad in hospice.”

Evan inhales deeply.

“I guess school has been trying to talk to him, threatening to call social services because his dad isn’t returning calls. And I know it’s stupid, but it made me feel selfish for all that I have, and how much you guys have done for me since I was a little kid-..”

“I’ve loved you since the day you were born,” Evan reminds him. “Hell, even before that.”

“And you have been mine since the day we met,” Tommy adds. “We haven’t done anything more than any decent parent would. And that’s not saying Jason’s dad isn’t decent.”

“Sounds like he has a lot on his plate,” Evan says with a nod. He looks over at Tommy as the pilot looks back at him. They both sigh.

“Look, obviously this is all going to be a much longer conversation,” Tommy tells Theo.

“But you don’t need to carry it,” Evan adds. “We’ll find a way to help. Ok?”

Theo nods, although he doesn’t move off the edge of the bed. After a moment, Tommy quirks an eyebrow.

“Look, I know you’re older and all, but you’re not… I mean you’re always welcome to squeeze in between-..”

“What!? No, dad. Yuck,” Theo exclaims as soft as he can while also being dramatic. “I’ll sleep in my own bed. I just…I could use another hug.”

Tommy and Evan both go soft at that, pulling Theo in and squeezing him as tight as they can. They feel the way the worry melts off of him, and when his limbs go loose, they finally let up. Theo stands a few seconds later, standing at the side of the bed for a spell longer.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, wiping his face one more time. “For making this place the way it is, and not just for me.”

Tommy reaches out and squeezes his hand as Evan nods at him again.

“Always, kid.”

Theo pulls his hand away a few seconds later, murmuring a soft good night before he heads back out of the room.

He swings by the kitchen on his way back toward the basement, grabbing a few Oreos and some milk. He eats them quietly, and when he returns tp the basement, Jason is passed out, snoring softly on the guest trundle bed that usually gets tucked under Theo’s during the week.

Theo crawls back into his blankets and pulls them up, turning to glance over at his nightstand. There’s a double, hinged frame there. One holds a picture of him with his dads from last hockey season. He’s on the ice in full gear while Evan and Tommy are outside of the rink on either side of him. His team had just taken second in a district championship.

The picture next to it is much older, but just as important. He’s maybe three in it. Kameron and Connor are at a park with him, laughing on a blanket. It’s a purely candid shot and all of their eyes are on each other, but when Theo thinks back on the few memories he has of his life with them, they always feel the same way that picture feels. He reaches over a brushes a finger against the edge of his mom’s head before they slide down, resting over Connor’s chest. His eyes drift to Jason. They have so much in common, and yet so little, and here they are.

His eyes drift down to the piece of paper tucked into the bottom of frame where the picture of Kameron and Connor is.

How lucky am I to have had something that makes saying goodbye so hard.