for @bucktommyfluffebruary day 28 (noooo 🥺): wedding day/wedding planning. 1294 words.
The wedding hall is on fire. Literally.
By the time the 118 is clearing out, the worst of it is under control. Smoke’s finally thinning. The air cooled. Helmets come off and gear hitting the pavement with dull, exhausted thuds.
Buck drifts toward the side entrance and stops there, a bottle of water in his hand. He leans one shoulder against one of the still-intact walls and waits for the second engine to make their way out.
When Tommy finally steps into the open, his face streaked with soot, turnout coat unzipped, fatigue written into the slope of his shoulders. And still—still—his face softens when his eyes find Buck.
A full week of opposite shifts, missed mornings, half-asleep late night calls, text messages sent hours apart. And this is how they finally end up cross paths again. Of all places, of all calls.
He ignores the ribbing from his boyfriend’s teammates and walks over. “Hey,” he gives him a half-hug before holding the water out. “Here. You good?”
“Yeah. Thanks, babe.” Tommy takes it, downs half in one pull. “You?”
“Been worse.” Buck huffs a tired laugh.
“Real romantic timing, though, right?” Tommy says playfully.
Buck pouts. “I know. Nothing’s worse than being cockblocked for a week and then dumped straight into a wedding disaster.”
Tommy does an amused laugh, shaking his head. He lets his gaze drift past the scorched doorway as he takes another gulp, pulled toward the garden beyond the hall.
The guests are scattered across the lawn in uneven clusters. Some are wrapped in borrowed blankets. Some clutch champagne flutes they never got to set down. Hen and Eddie making rounds through the crowd, checking vitals and offering reassurance. Matt and Halima mirror them on the other side.
Near the center of it all, the bride is pressed into her barely-wedded husband’s chest—veil crooked, mascara streaked where she’s cried. The groom holding her like if he loosens his grip even a fraction, the day might fall apart for real. Around them the bridesmaid in matching dresses hover close, trying to console as much as they could.
“They must have planned this for months,” Buck whispers. “Probably for forever.”
Tommy nods. “This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives”
“And now it’s just… gone.” Buck watches the bride’s shoulders shake. “Doesn’t feel fair.”
“It isn’t.” Tommy’s jaw tightens. “Their day shouldn’t end like this.”
Suddenly Buck’s head snaps toward him, something clicking into place. “Exactly! God, my boyfriend is so smart!”
Tommy frowns confusedly as Buck’s eyes now sweep the place with intent: the open lawn, the unharmed garden. Excellent.
He grins before pivoting and raises his voice. “Hey, Cap!”
Chimney looks over from where he’s conferring with dispatch. “What?”
Buck gestures wide, hopeful and a little breathless. “What if we finish the wedding out here?”
Chim squints, takes it in.
They work fast after that.
Chairs get hauled out. Decorations are salvaged and repurposed. The caterers triage what’s survivable. Someone carries the cake like it’s a fragile glass while people hold their breath, full of secondhand caution.
The emergency power hums to life, Ursula’s voice crackles through the speaker after; “Testing—oh! Ayo, Buckley, did you know that Kinard cried when he opened that lunchbox you made last week?” and Tommy flips her off to the delight of everyone else.
Less than an hour later, it’s not what the couple planned. But it’s something.
Lights strung between trees. Guests settle back into their seats. Someone straightens the bride’s dress. Someone else gently wipes her cheeks.
She smiles again—not polite, not fake.
Things are missing. Timeline changed and events cancelled. But what’s left is enough.
The couple insist they stay. At least eat, at least drink, as thanks.
So there they are, sit cross-legged in the grass just shy from the ceremony range, boots kicked aside. Tommy happily demolishes a slice of cake while Buck nurses a glass of orange juice. They watch the DJ herd people toward a makeshift stage and jokingly place bets on who’s gonna get the bouquet toss.
They watch as the flowers arc into the air—white lilies spinning, hands reaching, laughter rising—
—and land, squarely, perfectly, in Tommy’s lap.
For a heartbeat, no one speaks.
Cheers. Whistles. Someone yells something deeply inappropriate and somehow heartfelt. The universe, apparently, is on roll tonight.
The maid of honor hurries over, face bright red as she gives a helpless little laugh. “I’m—wow, I’m so sorry. Can we take it back?” She then leans and drops her voice. “One of the bridesmaids’ boyfriends is planning to propose, we kinda set it up so she’d catch it. We didn’t expect it to… fly like that.”
Tommy clears his throat, friendly smile on his face. “Oh, no. Please, take it, it’s all yours.”
The teasing persists even after the countdown restarts; Tommy just sighed, Evan rolled his eyes. Eventually, though, the noise fades.
But when Buck glances sideways, Tommy is staring unfocusedly at the trees, expression distant, like his thoughts are moving faster than he can catch. Buck swallows hard.
“Tommy? You okay?” he carefully asks.
Tommy doesn’t answer right away.
“Hey,” Buck says gently, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, you know. It—it’s just flowers. Don’t, uh, take it seriously.”
Tommy turns to him. “It doesn’t have to,” he agrees. Then, quieter, unsure; “But I think it could—I mean, if you want that too.”
Buck blinks. “What—Tommy, I—” A laugh slips out, breathless and unguarded. Palm reaches up to cup his face. “Baby, of course I do!”
Tommy huffs a small laugh, shrugging off as if it was nonsense, though Buck still catches how his body immediately relaxes. “Then it meant something.”
Buck’s smile falters just a little as he continues. “You’re not… scared?”
Tommy looks back at the newlyweds, cake sits forgotten in the grass. “I thought I would be,” he admits. “I kept waiting for the urge to run. For it to feel wrong.” He meets Buck’s eyes again, softer now. “It didn’t.”
Buck blinks, something solid and warm settles in his chest. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Tommy chuckles. He then reaches for Buck’s hand, fingers fidgets at the knuckles. He’s nervous, Buck figures—another Tommy’s trait he wishes he had learned sooner. “Did I freak you out?”
“No,” Buck squeezes his hand. “I’m really, really glad you told me.”
“Well, we promised we would. Be honest with each other, remember?”
“Yeah,” Buck beames, “we did.”
Neither of them looks away as Can’t Take My Eyes Off You starts to drift on the dance floor. They shift closer—easy, unthinking. Shoulders brushing, fingers tightening.
Yeah, Buck thinks. They’re doing this right this time.
“Alright, lovebirds and assorted troublemakers, party’s over.” Captain Beshay calls, clapping her hands as she ushers her complaining crew to stand up. “Let’s head back before I miss my wife even more.”
Soft laughters pass between them. Tommy shoves the last bite of cake into his mouth before jogging back toward his truck to follow his friends—but detours, long enough to lean in and presses a quick kiss to Buck’s cheek.
“I’ll see you at home tomorrow?”
“At home, yeah.” Buck breathes. “Hey. Be safe, okay?”
“You too.” Tommy smiles, lingers, then dips back in—icing-sweet as they lands on Buck’s lips. “Love you.”
Buck laughs, tasting sugar and smoke and unmistakably Tommy as he watches him go. “I love you too!” He shouts, earning an adorable wink and a pair of finger guns.
Someone pretends to gag. Someone else groans.
And thinking—maybe the ring tucked at the bottom of his yarn box won’t have to wait much longer after all.
