Probably yelling at science

In the weeks after his recertification, when he's still not allowed back on the job, Buck goes looking for an outlet. Preferably a physical one, where he can both work out his frustrations and also continue to build his strength, so no one can possibly fault him on his physical readiness. He tries a few different things: yoga (too slow), kickboxing (fun, but his PT says not to stress his newly-healed leg with that much targeted impact), Crossfit (the right intensity, but the wrong crowd), but nothing sticks. One weekend he sees a Muy Thai gym, and drops in on an impulse. The biggest, hottest guy he's ever seen--what, he's got eyes, and that man has great legs and great arms and wow, a great face--is there practicing some drills. Buck watches for a while, entranced, until the man finally turns to him with a raised eyebrow. "You here to spar, kid, or just to spectate?" Buck manages to stutter something about being new, and not knowing what he's doing. The guy introduces himself as Tommy; he's not an instructor, he says, but he's been doing this a while and he's happy to show around and give him some beginner's pointers if he wants. Buck Definitely Wants. It takes four weeks, a lot of gentle coaching and drills, and exactly one sparring session with Tommy, before he realizes that he might want something more than a sparring partner. Specifically, he's pinned to the mat under Tommy's weight, breathless with more than just exertion, when the thought enters his mind: I want to kiss him right now. So he does. They got hollered and wolf-whistled at by basically everyone in the gym, but he gets a boyfriend out of it, so that's a win in his book.

The thing about getting your head knocked about, and nearly poisoned to death by a silent gas leak, and then nearly getting exploded, is that it kind of fucks with your entire body. Tommy's put on six weeks of medical leave, with strict instructions to avoid heavy exertion and physical activity for at least four weeks. Too bad he starts climbing the walls about six days in. In his search for any excuse to get out of the house and Do Something, he finds an urban foraging hike that promises a city tour on foot, easy enough for children and elderly. When he shows up, the crowd is mostly LA hipsters, and a few parents with kids they're desperate to keep entertained for at least a few hours. One of the less hipster-y guys is a tall, blue-eyed man with a striking birthmark who introduces himself as Evan. Apparently he's new to LA, and was looking for a way to familiarize himself with the city. He also seems to know a lot about urban foraging for a guy who just moved here from Peru, of all places; Evan eventually admits that he likes research rabbit holes, and his most recent one was on urban foraging. He makes for an interesting commentator throughout the "hike," all enthusiasm and fun facts and more words than Tommy's heard from a single person in years, probably. It should be probably annoying, but it's actually annoyingly charming. And then Evan finds out that Tommy's a firefighter, and insists on quizzing him on ten thousand different things about the job. It goes so long that Tommy gives Evan his number, and they meet up again over coffee to talk more about the job. Three weeks later, Evan tells him he signed up for the fire academy. Throughout his training, he keeps plying Tommy for tips and advice, and Tommy keeps answering. Six months later, Tommy asks Evan what he wants to do to celebrate getting his certification; "kiss me," Evan says, and then slaps a hand over his mouth in mortification. Tommy gently pulls the hand away and kisses him as requested.

It's been one year since Bobby died. Well, eleven months, three week, and four days, but it's the closest class Buck could find and fit into his schedule. For a long time he couldn't figure out how to mark the anniversary; but then he remembered the local kitchenware store hosts cooking classes--he saw the posters, when he was hoarding baking supplies--and that felt right. A way to remember Bobby, and remember what he taught Buck, in a way that wasn't just about the job. He's expecting the lump in his throat, the weight in every one of his bones, as he walks into the giant kitchen at the back of the store. He's not expecting to see a familiar, giant shape there, trying and failing to fade into the background. Their eyes meet across the room, and for the first time in a year, he remembers a different part of the night. The terrified exhilaration of a helicopter chase through the LA skyline. The sheer artistry of watching Tommy play a high-stakes game of keep-away with the US Army. The weight of a gaze exchanged in a dark cockpit, and the echo of three words that felt like possibility--before all possibility died a bloody death in that lab. And for you. Maybe Tommy had the same idea that Buck did; Bobby was once his captain too, after all. Or maybe this is Bobby's doing, nudging them back into each other's orbit. Tommy's good people. He's good for you. By silent agreement, they share a counter. Tommy doesn't mention it when Buck starts crying silently halfway through the class; Buck pretends he doesn't see Tommy wipe away a few stray tears of his own, before they ever have the chance to fall. They don't exchange a word all class, but when it's over, all it takes is a glance before they leave together.

They're about evenly paced, with wildly different personalities.

Tommy and Evan are in similar living situations. Evan is at the frat house, Tommy is at a vet house. Not an official one, but one that's known in certain circles. A guy from his unit hooked him up.

They're an odd pair, which is something that's commented on a lot. Evan is drawn to the younger recruits, Tommy is drawn to the older ones. Evan talks constantly, Tommy doesn't talk at all.

Every weekend Tommy has to remind himself it's a weekend and not leave. He needs to be able to function come Monday, but it's harder than it sounds. Hangovers are far from the worst thing to work around. He pukes between drills, but it's fine, his body is a machine. At least there's no sand here. Anakin Skywalker was onto something. Tommy has always hated the beach.

Toward the end of the Academy, when the captains start hanging around, Evan gets a lot of attention. He's been breaking records left and right, and clearly has what it takes. Skill wise, Tommy is about the same, but he doesn't push himself the way Evan does. Tommy is used to the power structure, and doing things he doesn't want to do. He's the kind of obedient that's sought after.

The 118 are still short-staffed after cleaning the house post Captain Gerrard, so both Evan Overachiever Buckley and Thomas Torment Nexus Kinard go to the 118. Evan on A-shift, Tommy on C-shift.

The friendship would have fizzled out, if Evan was capable of taking a hint. Everyone calls him Buck, but Tommy still calls him Buckley. Evan assures him it's OK, he doesn't have to do that anymore, but Tommy just blinks at him. He calls everyone by their last names, it's efficient. Evan thinks Tommy is the funniest person in the world. Tommy doesn't get that either.

Captain Nash manages to take Evan down several notches. Tommy gets a handle on the alcohol consumption. The probationary period changes both of them, in various different ways. They manage to meet up about once a week. Evan has a new existential crisis every week. He tells Tommy he's a great listener. Tommy isn't so sure about that.

They're each other's emergency contact. The first time Evan lands in the hospital, Tommy is in the visitor seat. Same thing happens when it's Tommy's turn. Tommy hates the frat house. Evan hates the vet house. They make a deal to find a place together, if they make it through their probationary period.

They're there for each other, through the losses and the setbacks.

Tommy never tells Evan not to do something, all Tommy does is stick around. When something inevitably goes wrong, Tommy is there. It doesn't feel like anything, doesn't take any effort. To Evan it's everything.

Tommy thought he had a handle on things, but the longer he's been out, the more feelings come to the surface. He lashes out. Evan never tells him not to. Sometimes he just listens, other times he finds something for them to do; something destructive or something that tires them out. Evan reminds Tommy that he's a person. It doesn't feel like anything, it doesn't take effort at all. Tommy is pretty sure he would have done something drastic, if he didn't have Evan.

They pin each other's shields and find a house together. The place barely has running water, but Evan's credit is shit and Tommy has lived in a tent. It's perfect. Evan has the confidence of a man in his twenties, and Tommy is all too happy to sit back and see what happens.

It will take them the better part of a decade to get the house in order, but neither one of them is in a hurry. Neither one of them are in contact with their families. Evan hooks up on the regular, but he never brings them to the house. Tommy doesn't date or hook up, so there is no one to bring around. The state of the house doesn't matter, as long as the two of them are comfortable.

They sleep in the same bed from the moment they move in. At first, the living room is the only room that's suitable to be in, so they get a mattress to share. With their shift work, they get the bed to themselves often enough. When one of the bedrooms is good enough to sleep in, they move the mattress in there. By the time the second bedroom is good to go, it feels weird to get a second mattress. Evan is the one who's most reluctant to get one.

One night in bed, Tommy tells him he's gay. In the privacy of his own head, he can admit he does it to scare Evan off, and make him get that second mattress. It doesn't work. Evan looks at him softly and asks about it. Tommy has never told another living soul about any of it. He can't remember a time where he didn't know he was into men. Evan, curious as ever, ask what it's like, asks what Tommy's attraction looks like. Tommy gives him a rambling reply, that's halfway poetic, halfway nonsensical.

Evan has a private moment of his own. He recognises it. What Tommy describes, Evan recognises it in himself. But this is Tommy's moment, so he doesn't share it.

The next day, he buys a second mattress.

Tommy is confused about it. And confused about his own confusion. He wanted Evan to have his own bed and now he does. They get through a week of weird tension, that they can't work on because they're not home at the same time. When they finally have twenty-four hours together, Evan admits he slept in Tommy's bed, because he couldn't fall asleep in his own. Tommy did the same, but he struggles to admit it. Instead, he shrugs and tells Evan to come back, if he sleeps better.

That night, Evan spoons him like he's done a million times before, except this time, he wiggles under Tommy's blankets to do it. Tommy goes rigid, like Evan figured he would. Evan tucks his face between Tommy's shoulderblades and goes to sleep.

In the morning, Tommy extricates himself from the tangle of Evan's limbs, to get ready for work. He freezes in the door of the bedroom, when Evan calls after him. ”Come home to me.” Tommy doesn't turn around, doesn't say anything. He gets ready and heads to the station. In his car, it spins around and around in his head. It was a silly thing to say, because the next time they see each other won't be at home, but when A-shift takes over from C-shift.

It's been an easy shift, so when Evan pulls into the lot, Tommy is ready to leave. Tommy stands around, semi awkwardly, duffel over his shoulder. He's freshly showered and everything. The shift was that boring. Evan walks up to him with his own duffel, smiling and nervous as all hell. He's putting on a cocky face, but Tommy has known that face for years, knows it like the back of his hand.

He's had twenty-four hours to come up with a line, but he's got nothing. They stand around for a second, just looking at each other. ”Stay safe,” is what tumbles out of Tommy's mouth. The brave smile on Evan's face falls away. He swallows audibly. ”I will.” They linger for a moment longer, not touching, not saying anything.

Tommy heads home and deep cleans the house instead of sleeping. Evan walks face first into a streetlight on shift and dreads having to explain why he did that.

They're both wild around the eyes – and bruised, in Evan's case – when Evan comes home. Tommy smells like vinegar. Evan smells like sweat.

”What part of stay safe did you not understand?”

Sheepish, Evan gestures wildly and says, ”Apparently I can't do that and think about you at the same time.”

They're standing infront of each other, in the house they're quite literally building together, both thinking, if this blows up in my face, I have nowhere to go.

Evan moves first, because it has to be Evan. They both know it has to be. It doesn't matter how much Tommy wants something, he won't take it. He touches Tommy's face, with a reverence he's never felt before. When Tommy fucked up his wrist, Evan helped him shave, and he was careful, but not like this. No, this is much more dangerous than razors against arteries, because Tommy looks scared. In all the time they've known each other, Evan has never seen him scared. Tommy's hands hover somewhere in the vicinity of Evan's lower back. He can almost feel the heat transfer, from those big, capable hands.

Tommy closes his eyes before Evan kisses him. Evan looks at him and keeps looking at him, as he presses his lips to Tommy's mouth. Tommy's hands are shaking, when Evan feels them on his body. He closes his eyes and presses forward, fingers cradling Tommy's face. He moans, because it feels good. Tommy is warm and solid and right here; still scared out of his mind, but he's here.

Something shifts and suddenly Evan is being held like he's never been held before. Tommy's arms go tight around his ribs, they're pressed together from their heads to their knees, trying not to step on each other's feet. A breathless ”Evan” is exhaled between them and Evan suddenly feels like he's about to cry. He's scared, too, but underneath it all, Tommy has been the only constant in his life, the only person who sees him as he is and has made no efforts to change him. Hasn't sneered or rolled his eyes or laughed or given him the silent treatment. And OK, Tommy has called him stupid, but only when it was warrented and he didn't leave afterwards.

”I like you so much,” Evan says, because he can't not say it. ”You're so important to me.”

Neither one of them are good at talking, so Tommy nods and says, ”Me, too.”

All the walls in their house are different colours, because they can't agree on anything. Neither of the beds have bedframes, which is bad for both them and the mattresses, but they flip them as often as they remember. Evan is getting pretty good at cooking and writes a meal plan every week, and sticks it on the fridge. The backyard looks like a scrap heap and there's a suspiciously fat looking cat living in it, that they've been trying to get inside for weeks. Tommy makes sure Evan's Jeep keeps running, and calls anyone who wrongs Evan an asshole, whether it's warrented or not. Evan has been looking into therapy resources for vets, and Tommy loves him more than he's ever loved anything, even if he can't say it.

”I mean it, Tommy, I do.”

”I know,” Tommy says and kisses him again. ”I know you do,” because being heard, being believed is what matters to Evan. Evan doesn't tell him things he doesn't mean, even when they fight. Sometimes the words come out in the wrong order, but Tommy stays until he gets them right, and no one has ever done that before.

They need to talk, really talk. They both want to – and they will – but Tommy pulls on him, and stumbles backwards, toward the bedroom.

”I haven't–” Evan says, as if Tommy doesn't already know.

Tommy opens his eyes, although there’s nothing to see but the faint glow of his alarm clock. “Evan? Are you okay?” He keeps his voice low, in case Evan is asleep and simply a little cold.

But Evan goes rigid, like he’s trying to stop the tremors coursing through his body. “No?” 

The word sounds like a question, and Tommy tries to pull him a little closer despite the pain that stretches from his collarbone down to his hip. 

Evan presses his face against Tommy’s shoulder, and another full body shiver runs through him. “No, I’m not okay, Tommy. You crashed.”

“Barely,” Tommy mutters before he can think better of it. 

He witnessed a real helicopter crash during his time in the army, saw the large machine trundle while the pilot tried to keep it in the air, until it finally dropped out of the sky. His own crash was just an unpleasantly hard landing by comparison.

“I am so mad at you,” Evan tells him, enunciating the words like he’s trying to carve them into Tommy’s skin. “You crashed, and you keep pretending it was nothing. For half an hour, nobody could even tell me if you’re alive. Do you have any idea how terrifying that was?”

Tommy hopes he’ll never have to fear for Evan’s life like that, but he also can’t help but point out the obvious: “Evan, I’m right here. I didn’t even break anything.”

“Is that supposed to make it okay?” Evan hisses angrily. “Am I supposed to sleep better because you got lucky?” He trembles again, just once and very briefly. 

Tommy wants to turn on the lights so they can look at each other while they have this conversation, but for some reason he feels like letting go of Evan is the worst thing he can do right now. He knows that Evan’s anger is nothing but fear and love, bubbling over like somebody dropped a pack of Mentos in a bottle of coke, but Tommy has no idea how to stop the process.

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tommy whispers the words into Evan’s hair, hoping that honesty will help. “I got so scared when I realized I didn’t have enough time for a safe landing. And the whole way down, I kept thinking: ‘Please.’ I just wanted to make it home so I could have this.”

Evan makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a hiccup, but he doesn’t shiver again.

“I made it down in one piece,” Tommy continues. “I’m here. I’m okay. Helicopters don’t crash all the time, the same way floors don’t collapse under firefighters every day. There’s always a risk, but I also know what I’m doing. You’ve got to trust in that, Evan.”

Evan is quiet for a long moment before he finally says: “I do. Trusting you isn’t the problem. But I could’ve lost you today. I’m so glad you’re okay. But I’m also angry that it happened, and I’m mad at you for being so…so cool about it. I don’t know what to do with that. Am I just supposed to be okay because it wasn’t worse?”

“I don’t know.” Tommy doesn’t feel particularly cool right now, and he’s definitely not looking forward to the nightmares he’ll probably have. But for him the truly scary part was over once he was out of that helicopter, while Evan seems to be stuck inside that moment of fear. “You don’t have to be okay. But I’m still here? And maybe the rest will be easier to process tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay.” Evan puts one arm around him, tightly, like he’s afraid Tommy might disappear in the middle of the night if he doesn’t hold on to him. “I’m still mad at you.”

"Wait, what's — " Buck tries to ask, but for a short guy, Chim still has all the strength of a firefighter, and he drags Buck along with him as he walks away from the bar.

Buck manages a glance back and a helpless shrug at the amused look on Tommy's face.

3) It turns out Buck took Tommy's place at the 118 and on the trivia team. Hen and Chim seem more mad that they lost their MVP ("I hate to admit it," Hen says, "But that man knows sports and movies and 20th century history to a really impressive degree." "Henrietta!" Chim snaps. "Do not speak fondly of the betrayer.") than that they lost their colleague and…maybe friend? Buck's not sure how much of the shit-talking is just for show. He's not going to be a lot of help to them for sports or movies or history, and when Hen asks what his specialty is and Buck says, "I dunno…trivia?" Chim lets his head drop to the table with a groan.

"Okay, listen to me," Chim says firmly, pointing two fingers at his own eyes and then at Buck's. "He wasn't here for the last one and we weren't here for the one before that. This is our first opportunity to show him we don't need his freakish knowledge of basketball stats. Do not fuck this up for us, Buckley."

Buck's starting to think that maybe this isn't going to be quite the chilled bonding experience he was expecting.

4) There's a round on aquatic creatures that Buck absolutely knocks out of the park. Then there's a round on 90s rom-coms, followed by one on sports that has Chim howling with rage and glaring daggers over at Tommy's table where he's squished between two other burly firefighters and scribbling industriously. There's a break after that, and Buck offers to go to the bar when he sees that Tommy's heading up there too. He can feel Chim glaring at him the whole time, so he doesn't do more than offer Tommy a smile. Tommy has no such qualms, beelining over to him once he has his drinks — Buck tries not to look at the way he's holding three bottles of beer in one hand, the necks slotted in between his thick fingers.

"Hey," he says, sounding bright and breathless. "How's it going?"

"You know Chim's going to give me hell for talking to you, right?"

Tommy winks. "Why'd you think I'm here?"

"Oh," Buck says, and tries not to let himself droop, because Tommy's really cool, and Buck doesn't want him to only be talking to Buck to get a rise out of someone else.

"Well," Tommy says, and his free hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I mean. Not just that."

"Buckley!" Chim yells. "Stop fraternizing!"

Tommy laughs. "When he gets really mad, he gets his little vein, right here," he says, tapping his own temple. "See how it goes."

"Yeah," Buck says, feeling giddy.

5) The 118 don't win. Harbor — because Tommy is a pilot, Buck realizes with an inexplicable swooping in his stomach. So. Cool — don't win either. In fact, they come joint third, tied exactly. He thinks Chim's madder about that than if the Harbor team had won outright. So he's a little confused when, once the winners have taken their prize and the quizmaster has wrapped up, Chim and Hen head directly for Tommy's table for an exchange of back slaps and greetings.

"I thought we weren't allowed to fraternize," he says, because he's trailed after them.

"During quiz time," Chim says.

"Quiz time is sacred," Tommy admits.

"You can talk to each other as much as you want outside of quiz time," Hen tells them.

Buck's not sure why, but he looks at Tommy right as she says that, and feels like he's been frozen solid by the color of Tommy's eyes, the laughter lines around them as he smiles.

"Is that a promise?" he asks, his voice low, and Buck feels like they're the only two people left in the bar.

"Yeah," he says, pretending he can't feel himself blushing, can't feel the weight of the stares Hen and Chim are switching back and forth between him and Tommy like spectators at a Tennis match. "Yeah, I'd like that."

They swap phones to trade numbers and Buck feels a zap of electricity when their fingers graze as they pass them back. Tommy's put his details in as 'Tommy (quiz night)'. Buck doesn't think too much as he changes it to 'Tommy (hot pilot)'.

Tommy is having one of the worst days of his life. After a shift from hell, he goes across the street for a coffee and pastry on autopilot. When he walks out of the bakery, a poster taped to a lightpost catches his eye. In large black letters are the words: our world is better because you’re in it.

His breath catches in his throat. At the bottom of the poster, one tear-off paper remains. He hesitates, after all maybe there is somebody out there who needs it more than him. No—who deserves it more than him. He eventually rips the paper off, folds it, and puts it in his pocket.

He wishes he had a way to say thank you to the kind stranger who put the message there for anyone to find, wonders if they know they may have saved a life (maybe more).

Tommy doesn't overthink it, he walks back into the bakery and asks to borrow a pen. The woman at the counter hands him one, reluctantly, Tommy thinks. He walks back outside to the poster and writes at the bottom of the poster, far enough away from the message he hopes not to distract from it, and writes thank you. He goes back into the bakery and hands back the pen with a sincere 'thanks' and the woman is grateful (and obviously surprised).

Days turn into weeks and some days it feels like the folded up piece of paper in his wallet is the only thing keeping Tommy afloat.

He's out for drinks with Howie and Hen and they keep giving him weird looks every time he misses an opportunity to get a sarcastic quip in or quote a movie with Howie, communicating through their weird best friend telepathy like they think he won't notice. He knows he's being uncharacteristically quiet, but the words rattling around his head keep sticking to the roof of his mouth and he can't get them out no matter how hard he tries. He excuses himself to the bathroom, washes his hands until they're red and smell like oranges. Outside the bathroom is a wall of posters and flyers, most advertising different themed nights and drink specials and local bands, ripped and faded to various degrees. Right in the middle of it all, the stark white paper stands out. in black ink, the printed words tell him: you are perfect as you are.

A laugh bubbles up in his chest and spills from his lips, taking with it a weight he's been carrying set deep in his shoulders. He tears off a paper from the bottom and puts it in his wallet next to the other one. When he gets back to the booth, he smiles at Howie and Hen and he still doesn't say the words--he tucks them away for a later time--but he takes the verbal shots they set up for him and they stop shooting worried looks at each other.

Before he leaves, he swipes a pen from the bar and writes a thank you on the poster.

He keeps finding them around town and he wonders if he's only seeing them now because they're new or if he's subconsciously looking for them. He tries to write a thank you any chance he gets. And he takes the suggestion of taking more than one and passing the kindness forward.

One night, at the station, he can't sleep and he remembers the #thecomplimentproject he saw on the posters and decides to look it up on Instagram. He scrolls through the posts until he sees a photo taken at a place he recognizes, the bakery across from the station. The first photo in the post is the poster with all the tabs torn off and thank you written in Tommy's hand. He swipes through the rest of the photos and they're all similar; they're all the posters Tommy had written on. The post's caption says: this made me tear up, ngl

He clicks on the profile of the user who posted it, Evan Buckley, and is only a little ashamed at how quick he clicks follow. He spends what precious little time he has before a call inevitably comes in scrolling through years of Evan's adventures.

In the morning, Tommy wakes up to find Evan started following him back.

Tommy wants to send him a message, but doesn't quite know what to say, he types and backspaces and retypes before ultimately giving up.

One day, after his shift, Tommy heads over to the bakery. There's a new poster taped to the lightpost outside that says: you bring joy to those around you. After tearing off a tab, Tommy takes a pen out of his jacket pocket and writes at the bottom of the poster thanks. I hope you know that you are too. He's just finished adding a lopsided heart when he hears a soft "oh!"

He turns and sees Evan, standing in the doorway of the bakery.

Evan looks between Tommy and the poster and back again before joining Tommy on the sidewalk. "That--that was you."

Tommy tucks his hands in his jacket pockets. "Yeah. It meant a lot--means a lot--what you're doing. You got me through some tough times. I thought you should know." Evan smiles and Tommy thinks of the paper folded in his wallet that says: you're like sunshine on a cloudy day.

Evan gestures towards the bakery. "Why don't you let me buy you a coffee and you can tell me all about it?"

It's Tommy's first day at Harbor. He's early, so he sits in his truck and takes a few minutes for himself. He takes out his wallet, unfolds the familiar scraps of paper, one by one, and reads them. The last one is new, one he's never seen before: my life is better because you're in it <3 Tommy's heart swells in his chest and he lets the feeling of being loved carry him into the station.

"...This is a butt dial. Please ignore." Tommy says quickly.

"I called you!" Buck says, laughter bubbling up. He can practically see Tommy's inflamed cheeks and shifty eyes.

"No, no, sorry. Total butt dial. My name isn't even Tommy I just found this phone. Goodbye strange man."

Buck bursts out laughing as the call ends, and immediately flips his phone down to both hands to shoot off a text.

Nothing to do but wait, he keeps mopping, finishing the kitchen and putting everything away in the closet. He sits on the couch to wait.

About 15 minutes have passed when his phone lights up with a call, not Tommy this time.

"--ow, ow OW! LUCY! Stop fuckin-get OFF ME!" Buck can here the sounds of a struggle on the other end of the call, cot springs creaking inbetween bitten off curses.

There's more scuffling sounds before Tommy's winded breathing fills the line.

"--Donato you are damaging government property right now."

"Shut the hell up, Kinard." Lucy's voice floats past, and Buck gears up to bulldoze the conversation.

"Tommy Kinard, listen up. You've got a week left of this deployment. When you come back, you're gonna take a shower, sleep for 18 hours, eat the lasagna I'm gonna make; and when all of that is over and we're sitting here on this couch, I'm gonna give you the ring I bought 6-months ago. I just picked it up today."

There's only silence on the line for a moment, and suddenly Buck is met with a wall of hoots and whistles. He realizes then that Lucy had him on speaker.

"Hell yeah!" Lucy cries, and Buck can only imagine how hard Tommy is trying to hold onto his tough guy demeanor in the middle of a wildfire barracks with his coworker sitting on him.

"...yeah, okay." Tommy says, quiet and close to the phone.

"What? What the fuck is happening?" Tommy is throwing his head around, looking for assistance when he spots Lopez snickering a few feet away.

"We are working! We're doing hard and dangerous work right now, Lopez! Get her the hell off of me!"

"Sorry dude." Lopez says casually, holding their phone steady.

Lucy gets her phone out and snatches her hand away from where Tommy is trying to lick it to scare her off.

"Stop it you freak," Lucy days, using her knuckle to dig into the back of his shoulder blade the way she used to in order to get her brothers to tap out faster.

"Jesus CHRIST, ow ow OW! Lucy! Stop fuckin--get OFF me!"

Lucy hears more laughter, and it looks like they've got an audience. Tommy squirms some more, nearly causing the cot to tip.

"Lucy you are damaging government property right now!" He yells, and Lucy just huffs in annoyance.

"Shut up, Kinard." She tells him, and before there's much more fighting, Buck speaks. Lucy put him on speaker phone, so pretty much all 45 firefighters in the barracks hear his big mushy declaration.

"Tommy Kinard, listen up. You've got a week left of this deployment. When you come back, you're gonna take a shower, sleep for eighteen hours, eat the lasagna I'm gonna make; and when all of that is over and we're sitting here on this couch, I'm gonna give you the ring I bought six months ago. I just picked it up today."

There's ringing silence for a moment, and the fight bleeds out of Tommy so fast that Lucy nearly loses her footing.

Then, the whole barracks explode in noise. Tommy shoves his face into his CalFire issue pillow while the firefighters around them are hooting, hollering, and everything in between.

"Hell yeah!" Lucy says without thinking, grinning at the phone. She shoves it upwards right next to Tommy's head so he can respond. She doesn't hear what he says, but she and everyone else hear it when Buck clears his throat and says to the crowd:

"Alright, Firefighters. Show's over. You gonna get my man back to me?"

The room cheers again, and there's a sudden rush as Lucy is pulled from Tommy and Tommy himself is yanked up by several hands. He's subject to pats on the back and side hugs, and Lucy could see their IC Richards from where she had come into the barracks, probably to see what the fuss was about, grinning and looking like just a bit of the stress from this ongoing battle had sloughed off of her in the last few minutes.

Lucy manages to snap a picture with a red-faced Tommy and the room still looking excited after she realized that the call had hung up, wanting to show Buck what he was missing.

Lucy leaned back against a wall beyond the frey of the on-going celebration, pulling up Buck's contact again. As the message sens, she hears a voice float over:

#2 — tommy has routines. he loves his routines. and he would never admit it, but he does not love when his routines are interfered with. like this morning, when he pulls up to his favourite coffee shop (approximately fifteen minutes from the station, which gives his drink time to cool down just enough that he can chug it in the time it takes him to get changed) and some douchebag in a jeep has parked in his spot. of course, it's not really his spot, it's a public parking lot, but it's towards the back of the lot and far enough away that most people don't park there. grumbling to himself, he parks next to it, and barely even looks up when he nearly runs into someone on his way in the door, only catching a hurried "sorry!" as the guy runs off with two stacked trays full of drinks. he gets his coffee, treats himself to a muffin because why not, and when he gets back out to his truck, the jeep is gone. but it keeps happening. not every time he goes, but often enough that it's starting to get annoying. it takes a couple weeks before he finally runs into the jeep's driver; one morning, he pulls in right before the jeep does, and makes it to the spot first. the guy behind the wheel hops out cheerfully and waves. "oh, hey, that's funny, that's where i usually park!" he says, pointing at tommy's spot. "i know," tommy says, rolling his eyes. "it's where i usually park, too. you just get here first sometimes." but try as he might, now that he's met the guy, he can't be too annoyed. especially when evan buckley introduces himself with a warm smile and handshake and offers to buy tommy a coffee "to make up for stealing your spot".

#3 — it's not that buck misses living on the road. just, sometimes, he needs to get out of the city. he lived out of his jeep for a long time and sometimes it's nice to just get out and do that again, visit a state park or something and sleep with the stars outside his car windows. he has a spot about forty-five minutes out of the city that he likes to go to sometimes, tucked away on a cliff with a great view of the ocean, and he's never seen anybody else out there. he's got the back of the jeep open, looking out at the water and picking absently at the snacks he'd packed, when headlights come down the overgrown lane behind him. he freezes. it's not private property—he'd checked, just to be sure; it would be a bad look to be arrested for trespassing—but you never know who you're going to encounter out in the woods. the new vehicle stops behind the jeep, parks, then someone is coming around. buck tenses, but the guy who appears around the corner of the jeep just looks concerned. he asks if everything's okay and buck explains that he just likes to come out here sometimes, for the quiet. they introduce themselves and tommy tells him that his cousin lives across the street from the lane and noticed buck going in but not leaving, and asked tommy to basically do a wellness check since he's a first responder. then they start exchanging stories, buck mentions the 118, they realize they know the same people, and before they know it, they've been talking for an hour and tommy's phone starts ringing because his cousin has now seen two vehicles disappear to the cliff without returning and he's starting to get worried. tommy assures him he's fine, then tries to apologize to buck for intruding and says he'll leave him to it. buck just waggles a dessert container at him and asks him to stay.

#4 — tommy also has a jeep. they go to the same gym and tommy comes out one day to find a rubber duck sitting on his mirror. he's seen the other jeep around, but doesn't actually know who it belongs to. he puts the duck on his dashboard and the next time he's at the grocery store, he picks up a pack of little multicoloured ducks. the other jeep is there when he goes for his next workout and he returns the favour, putting a green one on the other jeep's mirror. four days later, the next time they're both in the lot at the same time, tommy comes out to find one sitting on his hood, this time with a little note that just has a smiley face drawn on it. this goes on for a while; after a month or two, tommy has ten little ducks in various colours and styles sitting in a row on his dashboard, and a little pile of notes with silly jokes written on them by the stranger clipped onto his sun visor. the other jeep has its own row of ducks. it may have gone on forever, with the gym just busy enough that he was never fully sure who it was, except the next duck the stranger leaves has a little firefighter helmet on, with "118" scribbled on the badge. tommy had just added an lafd bumper sticker to his jeep, so maybe that's why the stranger picked this particular duck, but how would they know tommy used to be at the 118?? he's still staring down at it, wondering if he should be concerned, when the tall guy with the birthmark he's noticed looking at him a few times walks up to him. "do you like him?" he says. "couldn't help getting it for you. he's so cute." tommy nods back. "yeah but—how did you know about the 118? i haven't worked there in years." buck just blinks back at him. "oh that—that's my house. i just thought it would be funny, yknow, giving you a little duck-me." tommy looks closer and, sure enough, the duck also has a little scribbled birthmark above his eye. now that he knows who evan is, they end up getting flirty, and soon enough, tommy has duck-buck on his dashboard and human-evan in his passenger seat.