Just something

Tonight, it's just him, his snacks, and whatever he can zone out to on TV.

After hopping around, Tommy settles on While You Were Sleeping. It's a film he's seen more than enough times, but never like this. For one thing, it's the wrong time of year — the twinkling lights on Lucy's Christmas tree are a reminder to put himself down to work the holidays again this year, rather than something that sparks anticipation and excitement for his first Christmas in his own home.

Tommy used to think it was sweet — endearing, even — how Lucy tangled herself up in such a crazy lie and, in the end, was rewarded with an unexpected love… but the laughs that used to ring out while he watched her fall deeper and deeper in lies and love have been replaced by a tightness in his chest, and the bitter memory of a lying, beautiful idiot who managed to turn to the best date Tommy had ever been on into one a stand-up comic could turn into a career defining bit.

Why depress himself with a rom-com when he can fall into a pit of despair by watching the news instead? 

Tommy flips channels quickly and is greeted with rolling new coverage of yet another explosion. With multiple crews on scene, and a firefighter down, Tommy shoots a welfare check text into the work chat and keeps his phone close by as he watches the scene develop in ultra HD.

Preoccupied with his phone, Tommy missed the part where the reporter mentioned a firefighter trapped under an engine, and he definitely missed the part where she revealed that said firefighter was one the 118's very own. Not long ago Tommy was arranging a water drop to save them. Bobby's a great captain but shit, his house seems to be taking hit after hit.

He sits forward, totally absorbed by the scene unfolding on-screen. Flashing lights and shouting fill the gaps where the reporter runs out of commentary and Tommy finds himself hypnotised and unable to look away. 

The camera shifts and zooms. 

The screen fills with a shaky close up of a firefighter clinging to consciousness, his face rubbing against the grit beneath him as shards of glass glitter on top of a life-threatening amount of lost blood. 

It's a scene Tommy's intimately familiar with; he thinks of his 1st Lieutenant who was laughing at a dirty joke minutes before he never laughed again, his body all twisted up in the wreckage of an Apache blown out of the sky.

Tommy shivers; another fallen brother writhes in front of him. His breath catches when, on a particularly ghoulish close up, the firefighter's face is revealed.

The burst of red above his eye isn't just blood, and Tommy couldn't tear his gaze from his blue eyes if he tried. If he knew the man's name, he'd call it out. If he could somehow break through the screen and into the chaos, he would.

Whatever bond they forged during the few hours they knew each other has strengthened beyond measure: how is it that this guy, who he hasn't been able to stop thinking about, who has ruined every date Tommy's been on since, should be a firefighter at the very house that Tommy left less than three years ago?

Tommy's never put much stock in fate but he's starting to think it might be time to.

The coverage rolls on, endless, continuing after a street full of people lift the fire engine off his long lost date's leg and paramedics bundle him into an ambulance. 

Tommy pulls up the message he sent to Howie months ago when he promised to find some time for them to catch up in person and types out a quick hope your boy's ok before switching channels.

He settles on a documentary about Machu Picchu, partly because he doesn't know anything about it but mostly because he'd rather think about Mark's smile and eagerness to tell Tommy all about his adventures in Peru instead of the pain-stricken grimace he's become nauseatingly familiar with.

* His name is Evan Buckley. Tommy learns that from the news.

Evan Buckley lives in an extremely nice building on Grand Street. Tommy learns that from Howie who probably should have questioned why Tommy was asking for Evan's address in the first place.

Howie calls Evan Buck. Tommy's itching to know why Evan spends his life hiding behind any name that isn't his own.

Standing outside Evan's door, mouthing the words to a script he's nowhere near close to memorising, Tommy wonders who the hell he thinks he is turning up unannounced. He knocks gently — if Evan doesn't hear it then Tommy can take it as a sign that he's making a huge mistake and run a mile.

Rocking back on his heels for long enough to feel like an intruder, Tommy seriously considers walking away. Evan's injury is probably career ending and there's a pretty high chance they'll never cross paths again. He could end it here and spend the rest of his life regretting it. 

Finally, when Tommy's thinking about high-tailing it down the hallway, there's a gentle shuffling on the other side of the door. 

'Uhh,' comes a muffled voice, 'if you've come here to kick the shit out of me you should know a fire engine already beat you to it.'

'I come in peace.' Tommy waves at the peephole awkwardly. 'Can we talk?'

The lock clicks with noticeable hesitation and then, very cautiously, the door opens. On crutches and with dark circles under his eyes, Evan looks as beautiful as he did the night Tommy met him.

Or some version of him, anyway.

Evan turns away from the door, nimble on his crutches for a guy with a lot of leg to swing, and leaves Tommy to let himself in. He propels himself forward easily and props himself up on a bar stool to rest while Tommy eases the door shut.

Tommy should ask how Evan is, even though it's obvious. Quick as Evan is, he still looks worn out from walking to and from the door. What comes out instead is, 'Should I be worried that Howie calls you Buck? You don't have like, a secret, third identity, do you?'

Evan leans his crutches against the kitchen island. 'Should I be worried that you know Chimney?'

Tommy shrugs honestly. 'I don't know, should you?'

'Probably. He's dating my sister so he's probably got a ton of dirt on me.' Evan sighs. Despite only having met once, the distance between them feels unfamiliar. Tommy has only known Evan in close-up, both in person and on-screen. Now here he is in full view, vulnerable in a way Tommy assumed you saw after years knowing a person. 'How?' Evan prompts.

'We used to work together.' Tommy keeps his approach gentle. He takes a casual step forward and stops. 'At the 118. You probably took the spot I freed up when I moved to Harbour.'

'Oh.' Evan rubs the back of his neck, probably to soothe himself, but Tommy guesses he's been sleeping like shit, too, and is probably full of aches and pains from top to bottom. 'That's really cool. Weird, but cool. T-thank you, I guess. You kinda changed my life by leaving.'

'Kinda changed my own life, too.'

'There were three other Evan's at the academy.'

Tommy narrows his eyes. 'Ok?'

'That's why I go by Buck?'

'Oh!' At least someone's paying attention; Tommy's too preoccupied with the stubble darkening Evan's jaw. 'Got it.' He closes the space between them. He pulls out the bar stool next to Evan, careful not to drag it along Evan’s very nice floor, and perches there. He forces himself to look more relaxed than he feels, because there's a brittleness to Evan that wasn't there before, and Tommy doesn't want to be another person adding to his stress.

'I'm really sorry for lying,' Evan says and Tommy doesn't just know he is — he believes it, too. 'My name isn't Mark, obviously, and I've never even met a gym teacher but everything else I said is true.'

'Even the part about it being your first date with 'a dude'?'

'Especially that part.' Evan drops his head and winces. If he's in pain it isn't coming from his busted leg, but somewhere deep inside that Tommy wants to reach and learn how to soothe.

'Did you like it?'

'O-oh yeah, I mean — it was totally unexpected but I do that sometimes just… jump in, you know?'

'I'm starting to,' Tommy says honestly because he's only recently developed a taste for impulsivity. Buying a house in dire need of love he isn't yet skilled enough to give is just the first in a long line of decisions he'll make that will change the course of his life.

The other decision is fidgeting around next to him and desperately trying to find a more comfortable way to sit.

'Let me help,' Tommy says before he can second-guess himself. He stands and motions for Evan to put his arm around his shoulders so Tommy can help him to his feet. Evan doesn't hesitate to accept — he puts his arm around Tommy and hisses when his cast bumps Tommy's leg.

As they walk towards the couch, Tommy clocks that Evan's bed is a flight of stairs away. It doesn't bother him, the thought of Evan struggling up the stairs at night, but it does pull at something inside of him that reminds him that he'll be going home to an empty house tonight.

Tommy helps Evan down onto his couch which would not look out of place in a show home, and would definitely not feature next to the word 'comfortable' in the dictionary. But he settles Evan the best he can and, to Evan's surprise, does his best to prop his leg up. 

'How's that?' Tommy asks, doing his best not to loom over the guy he barely knows but is worrying about like they've been married for 20 years.

'B-better,' Evan stammers. In the harsh, industrial lighting of his loft, Evan's eyes are so blue and soft and sincere. Tommy wants to kiss him — probably will — but he retreats to grab Evan's crutches first so he's not stranded.

Away from Evan, Tommy takes in more of his surroundings. It's a gorgeous property. A little… minimalist, if Tommy's being completely honest, but then who's he to talk? He's still sleeping on a mattress and pulling balled up Henleys out of a suitcase.

'How long have you lived here?' Tommy minds his tone so Evan knows he's genuinely curious and not passing judgement. He grabs the crutches and decides to wait until their next meeting to try them out himself.

'Um, not too long. There was a girl. Then there was a lease. And then' — Evan points to his leg as Tommy sets the crutches down in arm's reach — 'no more girl.'

'Jumped in?'

'Oh yeah,' Evan laughs, 'belly-flopped in the deep end.'

'Ouch.' Tommy laughs, too, and fuck it feels good. 'If it makes you feel better I just bought a house that's falling down. I have no furniture and no idea what I'm doing.'

'Ouch.' Evan's still laughing and wincing. He reaches down to rub the cast that's clamped around his leg as if he might be able to feel his hands rubbing his skin through the plaster. 'Where's your furniture?'

'I was leasing a furnished place. I have a TV.'

'And a two-thousand dollar coffee machine.'

'I — yes,' Tommy says dumbly, remembering how hopeful he was that Evan, or Mark, wasn't only planning to follow him home from the bar for something as innocent as a coffee. Unless that coffee was going to be sipped in bed long after the sun had come up.

'Are you, um, still serious about it? The coffee?'

'Absolutely.' Tommy eases himself down and sits on the floor so he can look Evan in the eyes when he says, 'I didn't come here for an apology. I came here because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.'

'Oh,' Evan says, his mouth forming a perfect O. 'It might just have to be coffee for a while.'

'Of course.' Tommy looks around. Evan has a nice kitchen. 'Maybe I can come over and make us dinner. Save you a car ride.'

'I'd really like that, Tommy.'

There's an accumulation of miscellanea on Evan's side table: a couple of books, a half eaten bag of Sour Patch Kids, a remote control, earphones, and a marker, which Tommy zones in on quickly. 

'Tell you what,' Tommy says, grabbing the marker and uncapping it with his teeth. 'When you're ready —' he sets the tip of the marker to Evan's cast and waits for permission. The hitch of Evan's eyebrow is all it takes for Tommy to scrawl his phone number on the inside of Evan's thigh. 'Give me a call, ok? Or text me. Whatever.'

The tips of Evan's ears are bright red. His cheeks, too. Their fingertips graze when Tommy hands the marker back and even from the slightest touch Tommy knows Evan's palms are sweating.

He's completely charmed and in real danger of testing their limits of their combined restraint.

'I should get going,' Tommy says and is that a pout on Evan's lips? 'Do you need anything before I go?'

Evan taps his chin with his index finger. Tommy can tell he's not really thinking about it — he made his decision as soon as Tommy asked the question – but if he's finding some joy in making Tommy wait well, then Tommy will wait.

'How about you kiss me better, huh?'

Not wanting to lose his track record for his excellent bedside manner, Tommy rises up on his knees, leans over and, with only the tiniest moment of hesitation — just enough to feel Evan's nose bump his own — presses their lips together gently.

They kiss and kiss until Evan's fingers tangle in Tommy's hair and Tommy's neck starts to ache from the angle he's being held at. Reluctantly, he breaks away, and there's that pout again, more vibrant now Evan's lips are cherry red and kiss-bitten. His eyes are still closed, and Tommy kisses both of Evan's cheeks, and the underside of his jaw, as an apology and a promise.

'Better?' Tommy asks, breathless and so, so happy he knocked on Evan's door before he could talk himself out of it.

'Not sure,' Evan says, 'we should probably try again just to, you know, make sure the treatment's working.'