For the 5th of @crash-that-helicopter-week Tommy's Coma Dream. Part 1 (I hope to finish all parts by Thursday). Part 2 , Part 3 and Part 4.
Tommy wakes up alone in a bed that isn't his. The room has the curtains drawn, and as he gets up, there's a bell ringing in his head, it’s telling him that something is wrong, but also familiar. Next to the headboard, on a nightstand, is a wedding ring and a teacup. Tommy ignores it. He goes to what appears to be the bathroom.
"What?" He exclaims as he looks at himself in the mirror.
It's his reflection, but his face looks a little different, younger. Softer expression lines, less gray hair. He needs a shave, and his hair is a little longer too. Tommy is so confused.
He wanders, still confused, until he reaches the living room, and it's like being hit by a scene from the past. He recognizes this place, but it's been years. Tommy is in Abby's mother's place. The last time he was here, at least, he and Abby had come to visit Patricia for dinner. Shortly after, he would end their engagement, and a few months later he learned that Abby had moved there after discovering Patricia's diagnosis. Remembering now, he thinks he should have recognized the signs.
Tommy hesitantly begins to walk around the place. Everything seems so quiet and lonely. Like a haunted house, he thinks.
"Hello? Abby?" Tommy tries, fearing to get an answer.
He doesn't believe he's going to see her, or at least he hopes not. He's been avoiding facing those years for a long time, when he thought he could build his whole life on a lie, and Tommy knows that Abby paid for it. Just like Buck, indirectly.
The apartment remains silent as if he were the only living being there. When he turns to one of the shelves, Tommy freezes. His heart must have stopped for a second. Decorating the shelves are a series of framed photos of him and Abby. Some from when they started dating, others from their engagement, photos that Tommy hadn't seen in years... And then two that he had never seen and that he could swear never existed: him and Abby at their wedding. The ceremony that never happened.
"What the fuck?!" Tommy practically shouts again.
He doesn't have much time to sink into this thought, or consider whether he's trapped in one of his nightmares, because a phone starts ringing somewhere. Tommy takes a while to locate it, but then finds it inside a backpack, the same one he's used for years to carry things to work.
"Hello?" He answers without knowing what to expect.
"Tommy! Are you on your way? Have you stopped by that bakery near your house, the one with the chocolate and orange muffins? Could you bring some lemon ones too?" Someone speaks without pausing.
Tommy breathes with relief, he recognizes this voice.
"Chimney?"
"Yeah, it's me, your buddy. You were supposed to bring breakfast today, but you're running late."
"Today?" Tommy realizes he still doesn't know 'when' today is.
He looks at his phone.
"This doesn't make sense." Tommy blurts out. On the screen, the date is April 7, 2019.
"Not at all!" Howie agrees. "You're the most punctual person I know! Not even when she— Never mind. So, are you arriving?"
"No." Tommy replies automatically. "Where?"
"At the station? The 118? Where you've worked for almost 15 years?" Howie seems part annoyed and part worried. "Is everything alright, Tommy?"
"I..." Tommy breathes. Maybe it's all a dream, but how to get out of it? Maybe he just has to act accordingly, as we do in some of them. "I won't be able to go to the bakery. I'm not feeling well, actually."
"Are you sick?" Chimney sounds incredulous, but the note of concern that was there before becomes more present now.
"Yeah." He doesn't sound very confident.
Tommy knows he's not a convincing liar, which is ironic, he thinks, since he's kept a lie about himself for more than half his life, but it would be worse if he tried to do a fake mouth static now.
There's no way he's going to show up at the 118 in 2019. Evan started there in 2017. And as much as Tommy wants to see him, he fears not knowing what to do when he finds him there, in Tommy's old house, when the two would have nothing in common except the same ex (if they even still have that in common).
Chimney doesn't seem quite sure what to do after Tommy says he's just going to rest and then go to the doctor if he needs to. In the end, he accepts Tommy's flimsy excuses and hangs up.
*
Almost an half an hour passes, and Tommy remains on the couch, looking at the phone and seeing what he can find out. He sees the record of conversations with Abby. The last message they exchanged was a sort of "I hope you're happy." "Me too." He searches for her name on Facebook and discovers that she's traveling through Europe. This happened in real life, right? But why did he wake up here of all places?
Suddenly, his search is interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Tommy apprehensively opens it and raises his eyebrows when he sees Hen on the other side.
"Hen?" He says, surprised.
"Good morning?" She says and does not wait for an invitation. She enters the room carrying a shopping bag.
"Chimney was worried, he asked me to keep an eye on you. It's my day off, but I need to be home in 30 minutes or Karen will kill me. So what's wrong?"
She says all this, but doesn't seem angry, just straight to the point. Hen finally stops, leaving the bags on the kitchen counter, and then looks Tommy up and down.
"You seem fine." She points out. "But a little off. What happened? Nightmares? Insomnia? We already told you that staying in this place isn't going to do you any good."
"Yeah, right." Tommy says slowly, then notices the opening. "Why do I live here?"
Hen looks at him again, one eyebrow raised.
"I don't know." She replies, but she seems hesitant before adding. "We told you to move on and move out."
Well that tracks, Tommy thinks, because Hen and Chimney seem like their friends, the kind who are aware of his life. Can he ask?
"I woke up today and there are things I don't quite remember." He says, sounding honest, which he is. "Could you help me?"
"Have you been drinking?" Hen asks, glancing behind him, quickly scanning for any sign of bottles or anything else suspicious. Not so much to his surprise, there are a few scattered on the floor.
"No." Tommy raises his hands, then sounds almost desperate. "I'm just confused, ok?"
Hen thinks about it, but decides to give him what he asked for.
"Your mother-in-law died and Abby," Hen considers what to say next, "well, she wanted to find herself, so she went traveling the world and you're getting divorced, right?"
"Right." He agrees, because what kind of dream is this?
But honest, Tommy can't even be surprised by this. If they had gone through with the marriage, it probably wouldn't have lasted. He was at his breaking point in 2017.
"And I never asked for a transfer after Bobby became captain?"
Hen's eyes widen.
"Not that I know of." She seems offended by the prospect of him hiding this. "Sal, on the other hand, went to the 126. At least before he comes back."
"Wait." An alarm goes off in Tommy's head. "Sal went back to the 118?"
"Sal is our Captain, Tommy. He took over after Bobby Nash died. After the plane crash, remember?"
"And Evan Buckley?" Tommy asks abruptly. An urgency growing in his chest. Because the shock of knowing Bobby is dead can't be separated from the image Tommy has of Buck breaking down alone in an empty hallway.
"Who?" Hen frowns.
Tommy stares at her. Evan moved to LA before 2019. They should at least know him.
"The--" Tommy stumbles over his words, he has to describe who Evan was years ago. "The new guy? Buck?"
"Eddie Diaz is the new guy." Hen informs him, without getting what is bothering him.
And then it hits him. Sal left in 2015, two years before Evan started at the 118... He didn't replace Sal, he replaced Tommy. The next hire would only be two years later, when Eddie joined the team.
"He must have gone to another Station," Tommy says to himself. And his face must be making a weird expression.
Because it's all weird. He didn't want to meet Evan in this dream, but now that he doesn't know where he is, where he's gone, and if he's okay, Tommy feels like he's starting to panic for the first time since he woke up here. Bobby was important to Evan, Tommy knows that. What would happen to him without the 118? Without Bobby?
For a moment it's like the lights flicker. He hears a high-pitched sound. He was cold before. He remembers... He can almost feel it again... His balance falters. And then a distant "Tommy!" seems to want to reach him unsuccessfully. Evan.
Tommy leans on the counter and for a moment he feels like he's going to fall. It was as if his body had a different weight; he could almost feel his body from seven years in the future.
"Tommy, you're really not okay." Hen now looks worried. "Do you want a ride to the hospital?"
"No, no. I'll be fine." Tommy says without being sure of it
One thing became clear to him. Tommy needs to know if Evan is okay, if he's happy in this reality. Maybe it doesn't make any difference, but hearing about him, or his absence, seems to have been the only real thing to affect Tommy here.
Before Hen leaves, he decides to test the waters. He needs to know a little more about this version of himself, to know who he can count on.
"Hen? Do you know I'm gay?" Tommy says bluntly.
Hen looks at him as if Tommy had said something in another language. And then she smiles at him, but there's understanding in her gaze.
"I had my suspicions." She says. "But you never said anything like that before."
"I'm not out."
"No." She seems to sympathize with him. "Actually, you still wear your wedding ring. You don't talk about it much."
Tommy nods. He found a version of himself that was buried deeper in the closet and in denial than Tommy ever wanted to be.
"But you don't need to make an announcement," Hen says. "It's not always easy, and I remember how it was when Gerrard was there. Is that what's been bothering you?"
"Kind of," Tommy lies. "But I'll be okay."
Hen then goes to Tommy, puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.
"You will."
*
After Hen leaves, Tommy spends some time going after information, then calling some people he knows in the department and at Dispatch, which is how Tommy discovers that Maddie doesn't work there. It takes a while, but he manages to get some information. Evan Buckley was assigned to the 144 after leaving the Academy, but he didn't complete his probationary year. Apparently, he was fired. After that, Tommy didn't find much else.
But then Tommy gets another clue. It turns out Maddie is in town. Not as Maddie Han, but as Maddie Buckley. She works as a nurse. Tommy finds some news about Maddie, but other than that, she seems to be doing well.
Tommy was about to go to the hospital to talk to Maddie in person when he realized the easier way out. Evan doesn't have Facebook, but he does have Instagram. Tommy has never been much into social media, but Evan is the opposite. He passes through some other Evan Buckleys and finally finds his Evan. He still uses the nickname he got at the Academy, but his account is different. "Buck," and his Instagram is basically a thirsty trap. There he is, the "Buck 1.0" he'd vaguely heard of. The person Evan was before he had the first "most transformative relationship” of his life with Abby. Which Tommy suspects never happened here. To Tommy's surprise, even though it's not June, Evan's bio has a little flag and a description that includes the words "bi and proud." So this Evan must have discovered himself earlier. Jealousy rises in Tommy's stomach.
Maybe there's another man, who didn't ruin his chance with Evan because he felt insecure, or because he was afraid of having his heart broken and then made sure it did happen like an idiot.
From the posts, Tommy also finds out that Evan is working in some bars and clubs, sometimes as a bartender and sometimes as a DJ, which seems like something new for Evan's catalog of professions.
Like a good stalker, Tommy Kinard already knows where to find this version of Evan Buckley tonight. From the photos he looks fine, but Tommy needs to be sure. That’s all.
He gets up to leave and hesitates for a moment, and then the lights start flickering again. He was in the middle of the water, he remembers... He managed to get out, but he was so tired... and bleeding... His head starts to ache again.
"Tommy! Don't leave me, ok? Stay!" The voice is familiar.It's so desperate!
Someone will break. Something has already broken…
When Tommy comes back to himself, it's as if nothing happened. He's not wet or bleeding. He doesn't feel his lungs choking. But one word still echoes in his head with desperate longing.
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Would love maybe a Bird Cage / La Cage aux Folles AU for Bucktommy
Friend, let me first begin with an apology. I could not figure out how to make a birdcage au work despite my best efforts. So this is more inspired by it then anything. I'd say it was more spirit than letter, but honestly it's more vibes than spirit. I still hope you like it.
--
1. “I once thought about opening a bar,” Evan said, dragging lazy fingers through Tommy's hair.
A rare storm front was moving through SoCal, and they spent the day laid up on the couch with aching limbs, Evan's leg and his hip. He was staring at a full replacement in the next ten years. It was a miracle he hadn't needed one when he caught a stray bullet in Afghanistan. The bone healed well, but he wasn't twenty anymore and a couple decades with the LAFD took an unavoidable toll on the body. It was getting to the point where he had to decide whether to take a desk job or retire and try something new.
“Thought about or actually did some planning?” Tommy asked, head in Evan's lap.
“Well, I was twenty-four,” Evan said. “It was mostly me and a bunch of my other meathead twenty-four friends talking about what kind of themed bar he would have and the music we would play and also how it would get us girls.”
“So an absolute nightmare of a place.” He squinted up at Evan. “You still made a spreadsheet didn't you?”
“I made three spreadsheets," Evan admitted. “One was just for music. It had all the hottest hits of 2013.”
Evan rolled his eyes. “This hypothetical bar that hypothetically belongs to both of us won’t cater to fuck boys from like twenty years ago. You can play whatever terrible music you want.”
Instead of grappling with the fact that 2013 was twenty years ago and crumbling into dust, Tommy said, “I should not be given that power. Do you know what music I would play?”
“Weird industrial metal interspersed with like monastic chanting," Evan said without missing a beat.
“I’ll have you know monastic chanting got real big in the early nineties.”
“I can't tell if you're lying or not.” Evan scratched his scalp. “The other problem besides your terrible taste in music—”
“Hey, you love my weird industrial metal playlists,” he said, smiling as Evan tugged at his hair in reprimand.
“—is there's a lot of standing involved. Might tax your hip.”
“Not if I get a bionic one. We have the technology now.” That earned him another eye roll, but a loving one. “I don't think a bar is for me.”
“We'll think of something else. “Or,” Evan added with that beautiful smile, “you can be a house husband.”
That was a tempting thought. He could spend his days tinkering and reorganizing their cupboards and refrigerator using that color coded system they kept tossing around or maybe get that irrigation system up and running for the backyard. Hell, he could even finish rebuilding Evan's old Jeep.
“I wouldn’t even last a week before I started climbing the walls,” he said, rolling his head along Evan's broad thigh. “You'll have to put me down like Old Yeller.”
Evan laughed at his dramatics. “So we'll find something else for you to do.”
2. “I think we missed the extremely obvious,” Tommy said, plating the croque monsieurs.
“If you mean we should open a restaurant, I agree.” Evan proudly showed off the bi flag he’d assembled out of various berries. “Just think of all the specials we can have for Pride.”
“Now why do I get the feeling most of those would be banana based?” he asked.
Evan waggled his eyebrows and playfully poked his tongue into his cheek. Not for the first time, Tommy was tempted to divorce him just so they could get married all over again.
“That can be the back up plan,” he said, arms held out so that Evan could slide in to steal a kiss before he stole one of the plates. Tommy followed him to the table, his hip twinging as he sat. Growing old was a motherfucker, but it also brought him this: breakfast with his husband in the home they made together. “I meant I could give helicopter tours.”
Evan paused midway through shoving half his croque monsieur into his mouth. Almost fifty and he still ate with all the grace of a feral coyote.
“Chew before you choke.” He pointed his fork at Evan. “Do not make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke. It doesn’t even make sense in this context.”
“I was going for an anilingus joke if you must know,” Evan said with a full mouth because he was disgusting. He swallowed. “You love to fly. I know this.”
“You should.” Tommy took a normal human man bite. He finally go the bechamel sauce right. “How many helicopters have I stolen for you at this point?”
“The first doesn’t count. That was for Hen.” Evan speared a couple of strawberries, leaving the flag lopsided. Tommy grabbed some blackberries to even it out. “You love to fly, but you don’t actually like people. It takes you forever to warm up to someone.”
“Well, that’s not true. I liked you right from the start.”
Evan ducked his head, cheeks pink and pleased. More than a decade together and it was still so easy to make him blush. “You liked me, but it took you a long time before you opened up with me. My fault too,” he added quickly. “Remember the break up?”
“Like I could forget.” He stole a strawberry from Evan’s plate. “But this is just flying people around for a couple of hours. And the whole point of the tour is for them to be looking at the view and not bothering the pilot.”
Evan took a smaller bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Babe, I love you, but think about the kind of people in LA that can afford a helicopter tour. You really want to stuck in the air for at least an hour?”
“All right that is a good point,” he conceded, grabbing a few blueberries before Evan could get to them. “But consider this: we move to Hawaii and I open my own helicopter business and you get to mentor a whole new station and save even more lives. And,” he added casually, “I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to grow a mustache.”
“Wait,” Evan said, torn between laughter and outrage, “are you trying to Magnum PI me?”
“Tom Selleck in those tiny shorts were a formative experience for me.” He rubbed their feet together. “You got the legs for those tiny shorts.”
“You horny monster.” Laughter won, and Evan was glowing with it. “If I promise to wear the shorts, can we stay in this expensive city where we already own real estate instead of moving to an even more expensive state where we don’t own real estate?”
Tommy heaved a giant sigh. “Those shorts better be really tiny.”
“The tiniest ones we can find.” Evan’s face softened. “If you really want to fly tours then I’ll get started on getting you whatever licenses you need.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” he said.
Evan flung a blueberry at him. “I’m worried that you’ll find it boring. It’s not flying suppressant to a wildfire.”
“It’s a lot safer.” He considered all the calls Evan had been sent on over the years. “Probably.”
“Less chance of being swallowed by a whale,” Evan said, sneaking socked toes up Tommy’s pants leg.
Tommy sat with that, and when they finished their croque monsieurs and all the fruit, he said, “Let’s file it alongside the bar idea.”
“I’ll start a list,” Evan said, and pulled out his phone.
3. "I don't see why you gotta retire at all," Sal said, halfway through the fruitiest cocktail that Marge was willing to make, which was quite fruity and the color of a tacky sunset. Sal only ordered cocktails when they were at a gay bar, probably as a form of cultural exchange. As the kids used to say, Sal was a little confused but he had the spirit. "I always said you could move up the ranks if you wanted to."
"And I don't want to," Tommy said. "I'm a pilot, Sal. I belong in the skies."
Sal heaved a beleaguered sigh. "Save the dumb quotes for Howie." He took a delicate sip. "They're always looking for more instructors at the academy if you don't want to be in the field anymore. I never got why you wanted to spend all your time up in a tin can."
"Evan and I talked about it." He took a moment to line up the words in his head. Age and parenthood had granted Sal patience. There would have been a time Sal would have hounded him for an immediate answer, but now Sal waited for him to be ready. "I've been doing this job a long time." He did some quick math. "Jesus, almost all of my adult life."
Sal laughed. "Yeah, we somehow went and got old."
They were having a nice conversation over drinks, so Tommy didn't go and ruin it by pointing out that he hadn't ever thought he'd make it past twenty-six. "I love this job," he said, not having to search for the words; he and Evan had excavated them months ago. "I wouldn't have done it so long if I hadn't."
"Wouldn't have put up with Gerrard if you didn't," Sal said, holding out his cocktail glass and then giving it a little waggle when Tommy didn't toast fast enough.
"But I'm not like Evan or Hen or even you." He considered his cocktail, which was only marginally less tacky than Sal's. Hen was on the short list for deputy chief and he'd give up his license if she didn't get it. Evan was a captain, and he loved helping people too much to go take a position that would take him out of the field. And Sal had his house and the union and his holy crusade to make LAFD live up to its PR slogans. "I love it, but I'm done. I'm ready to be done."
Sal blew out a long breath but didn't fight him on it. "You'll be missed."
Tommy snorted. "I'm retiring. I'm not dying." He kicked Sal in the ankle. Sal retaliated, and they jostled for a minute before Marge shut that down with a pointed clearing of her throat. "And I'm not retiring right now."
"But soon, right?" said Sal, who knew him too well.
"Within the next two years. Three if I can't figure out what I want to do next."
"You can always give helicopter tours." Sal made a face. "I take that back. The first annoying customer is getting dumped into the ocean. You can't give tours."
"Evan already made that argument when I suggested it. And I never really considered it."
Sal gave him a long, knowing look. "You wanted to do it because of Magnum PI, right? You love a man in tiny shorts."
"I really do," Tommy said, and pulled out his phone to text Evan.
"What about a bar?" Sal suggested. "You could open a gay badge and ladder."
"I don't want to open a bar," he said absently as he texted Evan Sal agrees with you about the helicopter tours.
Sal leaned forward. "Hey, Marge! You looking for a partner for this joint?"
Marge looked up from slicing limes. "Deluca, what makes you think I want to enter into an legal partnership with him? I won't even marry my partner and I've known her a hell of a lot longer than Kinard here. Like her a lot more, too."
Tommy sent an air kiss her way. Evan texted duh the only thing we agree on is you be there in about 30 love u!!!!! That was followed by a separate text containing nothing but a dozen heart emojis and a few eggplants thrown in for good measure because there was no emotional state Evan couldn't find an emoji for. God, Tommy loved him.
"Also," Tommy added, "and I don't know if I mentioned this, but I don't want to run a bar."
"You're such a bitch." Sal grabbed him by the back of neck and planted a smacking kiss to his forehead. "Whatever you end up doing, you know me and the girls support you."
"I know." He dug his knuckles into Sal's ribs. "Now go see them. Give Gina my regards."
Sal shook him lovingly by the back of the neck. "You and her are so weird. Hey, bring the kid around to dinner. We'll brainstorm some career options.'
"He's not a kid," Tommy said. Evan was quickly catching up to him in the gray hair department and the increasing way he was squinting at his phone suggested he needed a pair of readers. "But sure. We'll put something into the calendar."
"All right, nerd. Tell the kid I said hi." With one more shake, Sal left to go back to his family and Tommy waited for his to arrive.
4. “I was the same way,” Marge said, replacing his cocktail with a club soda. He’d never been that big of a drinker, but had cut back even further over the last few years. These semi-regular outings with Sal was the only time he indulged now. “That’s how I ended up with this place.”
Marge was a handsome butch who was constantly changing how she kept her hair—for the past few months her gray hair was spiked in a mohawk and before that it was slicked back like a 1950s greaser—and had been behind the bar as long as Tommy had been coming here.
“You didn’t want to be put down like Old Yeller?” he said.
She grinned. “Pretty much. I didn’t want to continue what I was doing but I also didn’t want to be a retiree. That’s how I ended up with this place. Mac, the guy who owned it before me, needed to get out of town and needed money, and so I cleaned out my savings and took out a loan and Susie only had a single breakdown. Worked out for all of us in the end.”
“Why a bar?” he asked, frowning at his drink. “Wait, hold that thought. Where’s my fruit, Marge? Come on, you know a fruit needs fruit.”
“You ever see The Birdcage?” she asked, unimpressed as she dumped a bunch of cherries and limes and berries into the club soda, threatening to send it spilling over the glass edge.
“It’s that kind of question that makes me think you don’t like me. Have I seen a The Birdcage? What kind of fag do you think I am?”
“The kind married to a man who has seen two and half movies in his life,” she shot back.
That was a fair point, not that he would ever admit it. “So the movie made you want to open a gay club?”
He couldn’t keep the doubtful lilt out of his voice. The bar had a monthly drag night and did a trivia night whenever he and Evan badgered her into holding one, but it wasn’t the kind of place that played whatever was the hot new song and it definitely wasn’t the kind of place you came to dance and get drunk and do recreational drugs. It was a bar where you came to drink with people like you. It was a place where you got to exist as you were.
“You remember the sock scene?” she said.
Tommy sucked air in through his teeth. Of course he remembered that scene. His parents rented the movie because they liked Robin Williams, but his dad demanded they turn it off when it because it was about a bunch of queers. He and his mom watched it later when he was at work, and little eleven year old Tommy Kinard had almost started crying as Albert came out in that suit. He changed everything about himself, how he dressed and how he walked and how he sat, and all he kept was the pink socks, which was enough to give him away. All he wanted was to try to help his partner and his partner’s snotty kid, and they hated him for it.
“I cried myself to sleep over that,” he said. “I didn’t even know why.”
“Yeah, me too.” Marge looked around her bar, the regulars at the bar, the couple in the corner, the group of young kids playing the worst game of darts he’d ever seen, all of them obvious in how they walked and talked and dressed. “That’s why I bought this place. No one can tell us what kind of socks we need to wear. This is for us.”
“Us,” he repeated, and thought of the first time he bought an capital-G Gay movie and the terror that the cashier would know about him. And then he thought about last week when he scooped up a couple of gay romance books and the cashier didn’t even blink. “We should have more places. Hey, you own the building, right? Do you use the second floor?”
“Mostly for storage. Susie thinks I should turn it into an event space, but I do not want events happening here.” She gave him a knowing look. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he said. “I need to talk to my husband first.”
“Speak of the devil,” she said, and went to get Evan his basic beer.
“Hey, handsome,” Evan said, draping himself along Tommy’s side rather than sitting.
Tommy slipped an around around Evan’s waist. “Hey yourself. Not going to sit?”
“If I sit I might never get up again. Thanks, Marge,” he said, grabbing the beer. “What were you talking about? You looked very serious.”
“Pink socks,” Tommy said, sneaking his fingers under Evan’s shirt. “What do you think about a gay bookstore? One that also sells gay movies?”
Evan’s brow furrowed with how seriously he took the question. “I think,” Evan finally said, brow unfurrowing as he smiled, “that I’m going to start a spreadsheet for the financials.”
And there, in front of Marge and the regulars, Tommy kissed his husband. He spared a thought for little eleven year old Tommy, crying himself to sleep over some pink socks. That kid was going to be okay, and one day he was even going to be happy.
5. “This is a great a movie,” Tommy said to the kid who couldn’t be much older than sixteen.
“It looked interesting,” the kid said, swiping pink hair out of their eyes.
The store was small and, tucked as it was above the bar, got warm during the day despite the best efforts of the a/c unit shoved in the window. But Tommy loved, this little place full of books and movies and art. It was somewhere a kid with pink hair didn’t have to be scared about being clocked because it was for them. It was for all of them, him and Evan and Marge and everyone still figuring it out.
“It’s one of my favorites,” he said, meeting his husband’s gaze in the store they owned together. “You’re going to love it.”
this month, we’re fundraising for the senior dogs of muttville in honor of oliver’s birthday (june 27th) and bucktommy summer! please donate and share if you can 💖
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tagged recently by @corporatebanana, @devirnis, @dharmaavocado, @winter-parrot and @apollabarnes. tagging you all back for next time along with anyone else who wants to play (forgive me, is it laziness if i have half fallen asleep three times while making this post? i would LOVE to start waking up at a normal time again pls)
the first rule of tommy kinard fic: the men who love him will at some point Go Through It in a crash that helicopter context. sorry, jack!
"What're you doing here?" Tommy asks.
Jack lets out a shaky bark of laughter. "Oh, you know. Just passing through. Dummy. Where else would I be?"
"You look awful," Tommy says, looking at the dark smudges beneath Jack's red-rimmed eyes, his rumpled clothes, his grown-out stubble.
"Whereas you're the picture of health," Jack tells him.
"Sorry," Tommy says. "I'm not…opiates. No filter. Gets me every time."
"Tommy. God." Jack looks away and takes a deep breath, like he's trying to steady himself.
Cold fingers trace their way down Tommy's spine and he nods. Should have known.
"It's okay," Tommy says. "You can say it."
Jack looks back at him, narrow-eyed. "What am I supposed to be saying?"
"The job's too much. Too dangerous. You can't wait around for me to die."
There's a long moment of silence. "Something tells me you've heard that before."
"Once or five times," Tommy admits.
"Okay," Jack says, and lets out a long, wobbly breath. "Okay. That scared the shit out of me, Tom, of course it did. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm not asking you to quit. I'm just — I'm so glad you're okay."
"Oh."
"Yes, oh, idiot. You wanna get rid of me, you better figure out something better than a helicopter crash."
"I don't," Tommy says, his eyes abruptly prickling with tears. God, he fucking hates opiates. "I don't wanna get rid of you."
"Lucky for you, baby," Jack says, his voice rough. "I'm here to stay."
AU five facts: Tommy finally finds out the specifics of how Abby left Buck and maybe starts to understand a little bit why Evan didn’t chase after him, the way he’d half hoped he would
Ohhh honestly this barely needs to be an AU, we could have this! ArthurFist.jpeg but I will AU it.
1. Sometime before the hookup and before Eddie moves, Abby reaches out to ask him if he still talks to an old mutual friend of theirs. Abby's pretty sure she doesn't use Facebook anymore, her phone number changed, and she's been trying to get in touch for months. The only other person who knew her is Tommy, because she was his friend first, so she calls him and it's awkward at first. He does, in fact, still have Mel's number. Well, her new one. She'd changed it after her divorce, Tommy's had the same one since he moved to LA. He asks her if she still talks to Alan and Stacy. "Eh, here and there," she says. "Why?" "Because they were saying some really unkind shit about you and Ev--Buck," he says, having replayed that whole thing in his head so many times. "How do you know Buck?" she asks, and he tells her. She's shocked and more than a little morbidly curious and also apparently only found out he was gay because she Instagram stalked him a few years before after her exes came up in a conversation with a friend.
2. He remembers what Evan said about Abby's relationship with him being transformative, which contradicts the shitshow he'd heard about. So he asks her what exactly happened. He knew her well enough back then to read between the lines of what she says now, and she's apparently done some therapy and realized some things weren't okay, like stringing this young guy along after she'd left the country. She kept giving him hope, and she knew it. He kept messaging her, taking her calls, calling her, and it all ended up the way it did. After she openly told him everything going on in her head for months. She opened up, strung him along, and then that was it. "Goddammit," he sighs. "What?" she asks. "Nothing," he says, even though he wants to ask her some pointed questions. "I gotta go."
3. Tommy builds a bench for an outdoor table he's building, and he sands and tries to think back on things Evan had said about past relationships. There's not a ton. They hadn't really talked about that. But he knows about the traveling, the fact that Maddie was supposed to join him and then basically stood him up because of her ex. Tommy knows what he's been wanting out of this situation, which is to have Evan show that he actually understands their relationship, that he cares enough about Tommy as a person rather than an idea. But maybe he got scared off from chasing after people. He remembers how Evan had asked if he was breaking up with him, when that hadn't been Tommy's plan. Tommy had thought it was what he wanted, but maybe it's just what he expected. He turns off the sander and goes inside to shower.
4. He drives to the loft. Evan's car is in its spot, and Tommy has to circle the block four times before he can find somewhere to park. He goes up and knocks on the door, and Evan opens it. He's in an apron, there's flour all down the front of it, and the place smells kind of like Christmas. He looks tired and surprised and so, so beautiful. "T-Tommy," he says, like he can't believe Tommy's there. "Hey, is this a bad time?" Tommy asks, and Evan steps aside. His hands itch to reach out, to hold his waist so he can kiss him, quick and easy and automatic. "It smells good, whatever that is," Tommy says. "Uh, it's a spice cake," Evan says, and Tommy sees a few cooling racks with cupcakes or muffins. Also cookies. "Did you forget something here? I checked, but--" "Yeah," Tommy says, turning to look at him. "You." And Evan blinks a couple of times and then smiles a little, and Tommy can't help but return it.
5. Tommy tells him what was going through his head, why he felt like he needed to walk away from the situation, how he unfairly thought Evan would try to stop him if he cared. "But I know that hasn't worked out for you in the past," Tommy says, and Evan looks away. "We don't know enough about each other yet to move in together. Clearly. But maybe we could figure out how to get there? Except not...here. I'm sorry, but there's no garage space and nowhere to woodwork and--" He can't even complain about the parking, because Evan is reaching across and kissing him. Tommy's fingers twist in the apron, and he's got flour on him, too, when they pull away, but he doesn't care. "I missed you so much," he confesses. "Y-yeah, I--" Evan looks over his shoulder at the cooling racks and chokes out a laugh, looking back at Tommy with tears in his eyes. "I bake when I want to text you." The chair creaks under Tommy when he pulls Evan nearly onto his lap for another kiss, and he can't believe he ever walked away from this.
He’s usually out like a light within a few minutes after going to bed, but his ribs hurt like hell, despite the painkillers he took over an hour ago. Tommy feels like his bruises have bruises, and if there’s a sleeping position his aching back doesn’t hate, he hasn’t found it yet.
Next to him, Evan is shivering. Evan rarely gets cold, and right now he’s underneath the blanket next to Tommy, where he usually turns into a furnace during the night. And yet, there’s a noticeable tremble Tommy can’t ignore.
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.”
“I know, Evan.” Tommy ribs still hurt, but he doesn’t ask Evan to let go. Not yet. Not when he just realized that Evan’s ‘I’m mad’ sounds a whole lot like ‘I love you’ to him. “I know.”
I prove my coworkers were right when they insinuated I was gay.
I answer a call from a colleague who last spoke to me years ago to ask for a favor.
I help save the first two big names of the show.
I become besties with one of the characters who is also a veteran.
Everyone thinks I'm so cool!
I kiss a guy and he discovers his bisexuality. I call him Evan when everyone calls him Buck.
I win a medal with my former coworkers and my current boyfriend.
I hear a homophobic slur from my former captain who happens to remind me of my father, whom I don't speak to.
I take care of my injured boyfriend and I attend a funeral for a cowboy ghost who cursed my boyfriend.
I date this guy for 6 months and transform his life, making it one of the happiest relationships he's ever had.
I prove I was here all along since I messed up the love life of the first season's protagonist, who happens to be my boyfriend's first love.
I break up with him because I'm afraid he'll break my heart after suddenly asking me to move in with him.
I run and struggle with the urge to call him, driving past his house.
I meet him again, have sex with him in the house that used to belong to his best friend, whom I was jealous of.
I run again because he said he didn't need to have feelings for me.
I answer a call from him months later, asking for a favor.
I run from the army by performing insane escape maneuvers with a helicopter.
I help save my former coworker who once saved my life.
I also do all this because my ex-boyfriend asked me to.
I become one of the pallbearers for the captain who saw me as a good person.
I disappear from my ex-boyfriend's life, from everyone's life, but I'm still remembered as the last real relationship he had, and one he still hasn't been able to move on from.
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AU wherein...Tommy was also in Montana (maybe flying for search and rescue) in Buck's dude ranch era?
let's call it 2015. bobby came to town, tommy got his pilot's license, but harbor has enough pilots right now. not to worry, tommy opens usajobs.gov and sees that NPS is hiring a helicopter pilot to be stationed out of glacier. he applies, knowing it's a long shot. he interviews, knowing it's a long shot. he goes through the physical qualification process, knowing it's a long shot. he's not expecting anything. it's not going to happen. he... gets the job? oh, fuck. now he has to commit. he breaks up with his girlfriend-kinda-fiancee, spits out the "i'm gay" in the middle of his retreat from her apartment and her life, feels an enormous weight off his shoulders, heads down to the station to catch bobby in person before his shift and tell him he's resigning. and then two and a half weeks later he's gone.
evan wakes up one morning in the staff bunkhouse, stretches, slides out of his creaky little bed, puts his feet in his farm crocs, and slunks across the dusty gravel driveway to the farm kitchen where marvin and bill and cody and gail are drinking coffee and watching the sun poke its head over the mountain. they're just south of the park boundary and they get a lot of tourists coming through looking for rides and evan's pretty good with the horses and he's really good with the tourists so he's usually the first one out with the eager beavers. but it's a tuesday and they're just coming off a stretch of bad weather so there's nobody here today and no tours to lead, so marvin asks evan if he'll ride up onto the ridge and do a census of the cattle that made it up that way. sure can do, evan says, and after breakfast he lopes back to his bunk and gets his riding jeans on and tucks an extra pair of socks into his bag--gotta be prepared--and fires up his garmin too. better safe than sorry. he takes felicity, his favorite mare, who he doesn't usually take out on trail rides with the tourists because she can really zoom when she gets going.
up on the ridge he finds the cows but he also finds the remains of someone's camp, which is weird, because even though this is national forest land it's so far from the road and far enough off the continental divide trail that they don't usually see backpackers around here. the sleeping bag is cold. the tent's been torn. everything's still wet from the rain and snow over the weekend. alarm bells are going off in evan's head. felicity is snorting anxiously and looking at something down the hill a ways. evan walks up next to her and sees a shockingly bright blue thing on the rocks, maybe a mile as the crow flies but it's on the other side of the canyon. he's hitting the SOS button on the garmin before he even realizes it.
SAR gets his location and then patches him through to a helicopter pilot instead of trying to be a go-between. they're going to need a helo evac anyway, unless the target is deceased; evan knows this and isn't--like, he's bothered by it, conceptually, but he knows what happens to people when they're exposed to the elements in northern montana in a summer snowstorm. the ridge has a good landing spot, and he tells this to the helo pilot, sends the coordinates, and then spends twenty minutes on felicity trying to herd the cows down the mountain a ways so the helicopter doesn't turn them into ground beef. he says as much to the pilot and the pilot laughs really, really hard, which--he's got a nice laugh, evan thinks. felicity does NOT like the sound of the incoming helo but she stays strong with evan's hand on her withers. she's a good girl. brave girl.
the helicopter lands and it takes a couple minutes for the rotors to finish spinning down and then the door opens and out jumps a man so beautiful evan doesn't even notice felicity nipping his elbow. ow! he shakes her off and then walks forward to introduce himself. the pilot's name is tommy. evan points out the blue spot. tommy stops grinning and unloads his SAR backpack. evan offers to bring felicity with them. she's great in an emergency, he says, and tommy cracks up. but if the target can't walk, which is the most likely scenario if they're even still alive, it would be nice not to have to carry them back up to the top of the ridge. evan asks if tommy needs to lock the helicopter. who's going to steal it? tommy asks, looking around. the cows, maybe, evan says, and tommy laughs again, and the three of them set out towards the blue.
there's no trail on this side of the ridge which makes the whole thing all the stranger, so they need to bushwack. tommy goes first, and then evan leading the horse, and evan's NOT looking at tommy's ass he's NOT. he's not--he's not. it's just that that's where his eyes are sort of falling, since they're hiking downhill and all. they talk about tommy's job which is so cool, and evan's job which seems goofy and dumb in comparison, and tommy compliments his horse skills, and evan's like yeah but you were flying, you were--you're so cool, and tommy turns to look back at him and grins and GOD. he's HOT. sue evan, he knows a hot guy when he sees one.
the blue splotch is the jacket of a girl. she's conscious, which is crazy; her throat is raw from screaming so her voice is all hoarse now, and evan makes a horse-hoarse joke and she rolls her eyes. she manages to get out that her name is riley and that she was on the CDT but she got off trail because there was a creepy dude following her and she was trying to make it to the road so she could hitch back to a trailhead and get behind him but the storm came on strong and hail tore through her tent and she went to the edge of the ridge to look for new shelter and then slipped on the rocks and fell and even evan can tell that both her ankles are broken. she spent one day crawling and then gave up and has been huddled here since sunday night. he hands over his jacket, and tommy hands over the space blanket in his pack, and they feed her and get her hydrated before they boost her up onto felicity. "like the american girl doll?" she asks, and evan doesn't know what she's talking about, and tommy snaps and says "oh, because she's a redhead," and evan... still doesn't know what they're talking about.
they part ways at the helicopter. evan gives tommy his email since cell service sucks up here. he wants to come check out the SAR hangar, and maybe they could drive down to kalispell for drinks sometime? and tommy looks at him, really looks at him, and then leans forward and takes evan's chin in his hand and kisses him, and riley catcalls and then says OW FUCK MY LEGS and tommy grins and hops into the bird and evan and felicity are left standing there as the helicopter takes off. "what just happened?" he asks her, and she nips his elbow again.
they do go to kalispell for drinks and evan DOESN'T no-homo tommy at this mediocre pizza joint and tommy gets him fast-tracked for a SAR job and then when a position opens up at harbor a year later and bobby emails tommy to tell him about it they both move to LA together and ummmm idk. welcome to a season 1 au but evan has a boyfriend. he misses felicity every day but LA is pretty cool.
five facts about an au where buck and tommy meet on vacation. is it a road trip? a tour? neighbouring cottages on the lake? who almost runs who over in the boat?
tommy breaks off his relationship, comes out, transfers to harbor, and then his accountant cousin calls him one day. their great-uncle rusty is terminally ill, at his home in... oh, fuck, in stehekin. he needs live-in care and they're having a lot of trouble finding someone who's willing to move to what is basically a fly-in community. does tommy know anyone? tommy thinks about it for a couple minutes. tommy's parents always hated rusty. rusty was always nice to him. rusty never married. rusty had a friend named bob who lived with him for forty years. oh, shit. rusty is - "i do know someone," he says, and he packs up his stuff and breaks his lease and asks forgiveness from the captain at the 217 who is like oh my god of course tommy we love you already but go be with your gay great-uncle. so tommy moves up to stehekin. he never thought he'd move back to central washington but here he is, back on the shores of lake chelan, firing up the engine of a float plane to go take care of a man he hasn't seen since he was sixteen.
howie calls one day. "hey, tommy, are you still with the 217?" he asks, and tommy says no. he's got howie on speakerphone while he flips the laundry. rusty's house is a sweet two-bedroom cabin on the western shore of the lake. there's a rickety dock that keeps threatening to fall into the water and there's a hand-painted sign that says "rusty & bob's place", and rusty had taken it off the nails one day shortly before he passed and in a trembling hand had painted "& tommy too" at the bottom, and it's so quiet, the only sounds the float planes and the boats and the occasional intrepid pilots that land on the runway north of town, and it's lovely up here even without rusty and the ghost of bob hanging out with him. there's a lot of stuff to haul out, but one day he'll get this place cleaned up enough to rent out to vacationers. anyway he says "nope, sorry, why do you ask?" and howie says "shit, our probie's stuck in a house on a leaking gas line and it's about to blow," and tommy says "address? give me a sec," and he calls one of the other pilots at harbor and rattles the address off and doheny park is saved.
buck takes the payout. he takes the money and he drops the lawsuit and with his face hot and his jaw set he starts packing his things. he doesn't know where he's going to go. all he knows is LA isn't for him anymore. LA chewed him up and spit him out and he's leaving. all he wanted to do was to help people. all he wanted to do was to get back to the home he made. whatever. he's tossing one last bag into the back of the jeep when he hears a shout behind him. he knows it's chimney. he slams the trunk shut and heads for the driver's side door but chimney stops him. he has this friend, he explains. moved wayyyyy up north a few years ago. has a lake house. call this number, he says, shoving a piece of paper into buck's hand. buck rolls his eyes and gets in the jeep. he sits for a couple minutes, then he gets out of the jeep and hugs chimney goodbye. "go on," chimney says, looking suspiciously teary. "have a good adventure. you'll always be welcome here." buck doesn't know about that. he leaves.
he doesn't call the number until he's north of sacramento on the 5. he's not sure what "wayyyyy up north" meant. the guy who answers sounds like he just woke up. "chimney said to call you," buck says. "who the fuck is chimney?" the guy asks. buck frowns at the phone, which is on his dashboard on speaker. "uh. howie? han? you are tommy, right?" "oh! yeah. yes. you must be the kid. are you coming up? i can pick you up in chelan." "where's chelan? is that north of sacramento?" "uh, yeah, a fair bit," tommy says. buck pulls off the highway at the next exit and taps it into his maps app. "okay," he says, when tommy picks up again. "i'll be there in fourteen hours."
seventeen hours later--buck stopped for gas six times, food three times, and a nap once--he rolls up into the parking lot that he and tommy had agreed on. they'd talked logistics for a while, then tommy had called him back while he'd been passing shasta and they'd shot the shit for an hour, then buck had called him back between medford and eugene, then tommy had called him to walk him through the order he wanted buck to pick up at some warehouse in portland, then buck had called to ask whether tommy knew a physical therapist up in stehekin, and tommy had said there wasn't really one but he knew his way around exercise equipment, and then tommy just sat on the phone with him while he got on 90 and managed the mountain passes and then turned north and puttered into chelan. he really was going to need an oil change, he thinks, putting the jeep in park. there's a plane sitting on the lake, and a guy sitting on a bench in front of him. the guy looks like he could be a model. buck's sure he wasn't lying about knowing his way around exercise equipment. he drops to the ground and winces; his leg's locked up pretty bad from all that driving. "you must be evan," the guy says, and his voice is music to buck's ears.
it's a tight squeeze in the float plane with buck's bags and the floorboards that he'd picked up for tommy but they make it work. they fly low over the lake, between the mountains, and buck could cry at how beautiful it is.
it's so quiet here. it's almost too quiet, at first, but tommy's always around, puttering in the little kitchen, refinishing the floors, rebuilding the place. he's not gutting it. it's not a gut job, he's very adamant about that. he's restoring it. "rusty and bob made this place a home," he says one morning out on the porch overlooking the dock. "they were together for forty-two years. i didn't find that out until bob was dead and rusty was dying." buck looks over at him; tommy looks really sad. "there was this couple who died, almost at the same time," buck says. "it was tragic but it was also so beautiful. they gave me their scrapbook. i brought it with me. thomas and mitchell." tommy's mouth quirks a little at the name. buck shows him the book later, over breakfast. he and tommy deconstruct and rebuild the dock. buck cleans up the flowerbeds. they strip off the wallpaper in the hallway and the landing and buck does some online shopping and gets some really nice new wallpaper to replace it. buck installs a new sink. he can't stop looking at tommy, and he can't stop catching tommy looking at him.
tommy accidentally drills a hole through his finger and buck gets to fly the float plane to chelan while tommy holds a towel firmly around his bleeding hand and keeps it raised to the roof while calmly instructing buck how to take off and how to land. several stitches, a wound debridement, and a splint later, they get a room in one of the lakeside motels; buck never wants to fly the plane again and tommy's hand is in no state to steer. of course the only room available only has one bed. they take turns in the bathroom and then lay down next to each other, the space in between them almost as wide as the lake.
"hey, tommy," buck finally says into the dark room. "i'm really glad chim told me to call you." he feels the bed shift next to him as tommy rolls over to face him. "yeah?" "yeah," he says. "you didn't have to drill a hole in your hand to get me to share a bed with you, though." he can barely see tommy's face but the way it breaks into a smile seems like it could light up the whole room, the whole town. "well, chalk that up to another one of my famous mistakes," tommy says, before he leans in.
they fly home the next morning with matching grins and hickeys and a stupid huge bill from the chelan emergency room. buck's payout is enough to afford to live here without renting the place out, and after the will finishes up its trip through probate, it turns out rusty left the entire property to tommy, including the plane. "we're on permanent vacation now," buck says when he calls chimney later. he moves into tommy's bedroom. they install a sex swing. it's great. rusty and bob and thomas and mitchell are all smiling down on them in gay heaven.
