Chapters: 12/12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Dancer Tommy Kinard, Ballet Dancer Evan "Buck" Buckley, Enemies to Lovers, Age Difference, Sexual Tension, Friends with Benefits, Semi-Public Sex, Frotting | Rubbing Penises Together, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Rimming, Orgasm Edging, Light Bondage, Crying During Sex, Falling In Love, Miscommunication, Happy Ending
Summary:
Tommy Kinard doesn't do surprises.
As a senior principal dancer, he likes structure, control, and discipline. So when a mid-season crisis forces the company to replace their Mercutio, Tommy is prepared for a disaster. Because, as the company's Tybalt, Tommy is the one who has to share the stage with him a lot.
Evan Buckley is loud, colorful, and completely upends Tommy's carefully calculated world. The friction between them is immediate, sharp, and thoroughly frustrating. But as the opening night of Romeo & Juliet looms closer, the explosive friction they carry into the studio begins to morph into a very different kind of heat.
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5 AUs game prompt for you: Buck/Tommy universes where they're both ex-118 members when they meet.
Hope you enjoy this one 🥰
Man. There are so many times Buck could have left the 118. Have one from each season!
1. Buck doesn’t get unfired in season 1. He still needs to pay for his room at the frat house, so he goes back to bartending. He cycles through a couple different bars, working their busiest nights, because for all that he flirts with the female customers, he’s fast and efficient and gets the orders right. One of his coworkers tells him about a gay bar he’s worked at before that needs some extra bodies. Buck starts there, makes more money than he ever has at any of his other bartending gigs, and realizes the lines he uses on women work just as well on men. He meets Tommy on a quieter night, and finds out he’s a firefighter. They start talking when Buck tells him he used to be a firefighter. Tommy becomes a regular fixture at the barstool in front of where Buck likes to work from.
2. Buck doesn’t go back to work after the engine bombing. He wants to, but he’s developed a near debilitating fear of fire engines — even hearing them from inside his apartment can set him off, and he’ll be hiding for the rest of the day. He works with Frank to deal with it and try to get some level of normalcy back in his life. Frank recommends a therapy dog on a trial basis, and Buck meets a sweet dog named Blaze, and his trainer Tommy, also a former firefighter who had transitioned into training therapy dogs after an off-shift back injury.
3. After the train derailment and his talk with Abby, Buck decides he needs to move forward with his life again. He'd really enjoyed his time working the wildfire in Texas — minus Hen’s near death experience — and he ends up taking a leave so he can go back to school for fire science. He ends up joining Special Ops when he comes back, and starts working brush clearance — which is boring, but a good first step. He takes as many courses as he can, finally excelling at school because it’s something he’s interested in. He gets called out to wildfires all over the state, and out of state. One time when there are a few different fires happening at the same time, he ends up jumping in with a helicopter pilot to help manage coordination between scenes — and that’s how he meets Tommy Kinard.
4. After the reveal about Daniel, Buck needs a break. From everything. He packs up his Jeep and drives north, only stopping when he gets to Seattle. He’s never been there before. He finds a cute little house rental on a quiet street. The Jeep breaks down a week later, and he gets it towed to the local neighbourhood garage, Tommy’s. Tommy needs some parts to come in before he can fix the Jeep, and he gives Evan a ride home, because he lives down the street from his rental house.
5. After Maddie leaves and Chimney punches him, Buck makes sure that Ravi can take his spot with heavy rescue, training him as much as he can. Without telling anyone, he puts in for a transfer to a new station and a new shift. He asks for a station the 118 wouldn’t normally overlap with, and he ends up at the 122. His new captain is efficient, smart, and very brusque. He loosens up when they're off shift, and he comes to badge and ladders with them, and throws the occasional barbecue. They’re not as close knit as the 118, but it still feels good to Buck. Captain Deluca knows a lot of members of the department, and they have a rotating door at his barbecues. Buck gets caught up talking to some of the pilots Sal knows at one of them, and Sal razzes them about trying to steal his new guy. They all laugh, but Buck notices how Tommy blushes too and won’t meet his eye after.
If you're still taking AU prompts, how about an AU where Bobby survives but can't stay Captain of the 118, and Tommy gets arrested for stealing the helicopter? (How would Buck deal with that much change and worrying about people he loves?)
This one gave me a lot of trouble and then I wrote nearly 6k for some reason. This might not be exactly what you were looking for but I hope it's close enough.
1. The lights were on when Maddie made it home from the hospital, which meant Buck was in there, probably cleaning and cooking and making himself useful. After the breakup, when Buck would commandeer their kitchen when he got sick of being in his own, Howie would joke about taking back their spare key.
“The key is a privilege and not a right,” he’d whispered one night, mindful of Buck asleep on the couch. “And he has lost his privileges.”
“He’s just having a hard time,” Maddie had said, although she privately had her own doubts about how important a six month long relationship could be.
“He can have a hard time on someone else’s couch,” Howie complained. She raised her eyebrows. “Wait, not like that.”
The front door opened. “Maddie,” Buck called, “are you okay?”
Her head dropped to the steering wheel. She was so tired.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. “I’m fine. Stay there.”
She winced as her feet hit the pavement; her ankles were swollen. Everything about the pregnancy seemed harder this time around. Maybe it was just being five years older, maybe it was already having one kid while gestating another, maybe it was listening to her husband die, maybe it was the entire fucking world.
Buck didn’t stay there, coming down the walk in his sock feet and wincing with every step. “I can grab Jee.” He peered into the back seat. “Uh, Maddie, I don’t want to alarm you, but where is your daughter?”
“The Lees took her.” She kept moving past him. Momentum was key. “They wanted to give Howie and I some time to visit. They’ll drop her off later.” They originally offered to keep Jee overnight, but with Howie in the hospital, Jee was scared and a night away from home would just result in a meltdown.
“Oh, th-that’s good she’s getting some grandparent time,” Buck said, visibly drooping before rallying. He followed her inside, shutting and locking the door and neatly putting away the shoes she kicked off. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she said, heading for the kitchen. “Thirsty. Vaguely nauseous.”
No sooner was the word out of her mouth than Buck was bustling around the kitchen. She had just gingerly lowered herself into her chair than Buck sat a cup of ginger ale in front of her. “Thank you,” she said, taking a careful sip. Her teeth were sensitive to the cold and at some point when everything had settled down, she needed to make a dentist appointment.
“No problem,” Buck said, and returned to bustling. Buck and their parents had been locked in trench warfare for all of Buck’s teenage years over him doing chores, and they’d probably have twin heart attacks at seeing Buck willingly and enthusiastically loading the dishwasher without a forty-five minute screaming match. “So I did a couple loads of laundry and did a quick wipe down of the bathroom and kitchen, and if you give me like five minutes I’ll grab the vacuum. There’s a bunch of casseroles from the meal train, but I went shopping. You got bread, milk, butter, and plenty of dino nuggets for Jee.”
The urge to put her head on the table was overwhelming. Buck was just trying to be helpful, she reminded herself as the waves of words threatened to drag her under. This was how he loved.
“Thank you,” she said again. “I’ve got an update.”
Buck went very still and very focused, like a pointer dog who spotted a duck. “Is Chim getting discharged?”
“They want to keep him for a few more days, but then he can home.”
Buck nodded, absently patting at his pocket for his phone. He’d been taking notes on everyone’s recovery: Howie, Hen, Bobby. His poor notes app must be on the verge of committing suicide. “I thought they were talking about sending him to a-a skilled nursing facility?”
“He’s doing better so they said he can come straight home.” His half of the antiviral had eradicated the virus, but the damage had already been done. Howie would live, but no one knew what recovery looked like. No one knew if he would return to duty. No one knew if he would need to be on oxygen for the rest of his life.
“Okay, that’s good.” Buck’s head was down as he typed a new note into his phone. “I’ve been thinking about that. Chim coming home, I mean.”
“The Lees are going to stay with us,” Maddie said, ripping that band-aid off. “They’ll be able to take Jee to preschool and Howie to all his appointments. They’ll be here to help when the baby comes.”
“Oh,” Buck said, looking like his heart was breaking. “Right. They’re great. The Lees, I mean.
A scream rose, and Maddie clenched her teeth against it. Her husband almost died, the doctors couldn’t tell her what his health outcome would be, her daughter almost lost both her parents within months of each other, and she still had to worry about hurting her brother’s feelings. And the worst part was that the only reason Howie was alive was because of her brother and her brother’s ex. It was so fucking unfair.
“Hey,” she said, forcing herself to be gentle as she caught Buck’s wrist and urged him to sit. “You need to take care of yourself, too. Are you taking the leave they offered?”
“What? Oh, yeah. I’m on it now.” Buck mustered up a brave smile. “You know I’m here for you, whatever you need.”
“I know,” she said, and buried the unkind thought of throwing him at the Wilsons for awhile. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he said, and squeezed her fingers.
She took her hand back and drank the ginger ale. Buck turned his phone over in his hands, the corners of his mouth tight and miserable.
“Have you talked to Tommy?” she asked at the risk of ending up with another dozen loafs in her freezer.
Buck’s head jerked up. “You want me to call him now?”
A flash of irritation that she ruthlessly smothered. “I never not wanted you to call him.” A half-lie at most. “Can you let him know I’m grateful for what he did to help us? I’d do it myself, but I don’t have his number.”
“Y-yeah, of course. I’ll do it now.” He gave his phone a sad waggle.
“Maybe not right now.” She levered herself up. “I’m going to sneak in a nap before the Lees get here.”
It took a moment, but then Buck was popping up. “I’ll let you do that. There’s so many options for dinner.” He waved his hand at the fridge. Just the thought of opening it and sorting through the casseroles made her want to lay down and die. Anne and John could handle that. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” she said, and shuffled towards the bedroom.
She waited until she head the door close and lock before she laid down and gave herself permission to rest, just for a little bit, until whatever came next arrived.
2. Hen was, depressingly enough, familiar enough with recovering from a severe injury to know that the irritation and frustration from being forced to rest were signs that her body was healing and that she was on the mend. But if she had to spend one more day in bed or on the couch, she was going to set something on fire just to have the excuse to get out of the house.
“At least wait until the kids are out of house before beginning your budding arson career,” Karen said without pity. “How do you feel about setting up camp in the backyard?”
Hen felt better about it than the couch, and so she settled on the lounge chair Denny had spent the last ten minutes making sure it got the perfect sun to shade ratio and drank the lemonade Karen brought her and listened to the kids mostly friendly bickering as they constructed cardboard cars from a kit that were supposedly powered by the Nintendo Switch remotes. It was a good day, and she had long ago learned not to take them for granted.
It was such a good day that she had nearly dozed off when the chime of Karen’s phone dragged her back to consciousness. Karen held it at arm’s length to read the text because she refused to admit she needed reading glasses. “How do you feel about having a visitor?”
“Depends on the visitor,” Hen said. Eddie was in Texas, and Chim and Bobby were still in the hospital. “Depends on if it’s Buck.”
Karen gave her a pointed and disappointed look. “Do you want to try that again, Henrietta?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hen said, two inches tall and annoyed about it. Karen was her wife, not her mother. “You know how he can be.”
The disappointed increased, but even Maddie had admitted that Buck could be exhausting. “I know he wants to help,” Maddie had confessed when she had stopped by with Jee for a playdate, “but I’m so tired.”
“He saved your life,” Karen said quietly, like Hen could ever forget. A small, shameful part of her said, We got lucky. How much worse would he be if Bobby had died?
“A short visit,” she said.
Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang. Karen went to let him in and then ten minutes after that—long enough for them to catch up and for Karen to give him the time limit—Buck was bounding into the backyard, waving at the kids and making the appropriate noises over their little cardboard cars. His hair was brushed and his shirt tucked in, and yet Buck looked like a man in the moment right before realizing his legs had been cut out from under him.
“I’m not staying long,” he said with a bright, false cheerfulness. “I’m just dropping off your portion of the meal train. You and Karen won’t have to cook for weeks. And this is for you.” With an exhausted flourish, he produced a tupperware container.
Hen swallowed her reflexive, unhelpful impulse—aren’t you over Tommy yet?—and warily cracked the lid. “Oh,” she said, pleasantly surprised at the blondies. “My favorite.”
“You know I can make actual brownies that taste good, right?” he said, dancing away from the swat she aimed his way. “There’s also a bunch of muffin tops for the kids and I made a batch of those peanut butter cookies with the chocolate stars in them for Karen.”
In those first six months post breakup, Buck baked indiscriminately—loaves and cookies, brownies and tarts, pies with intricate lattice work and delicate puffs of meringue, rolls with molten cheese centers and cakes with frosting so precise and exact it was like something out of a TikTok—and they didn’t have a choice on what he pushed on them until Chim declared an embargo that even Bobby had endorsed. But this wasn’t Buck baking to avoid his feelings. Buck had spent time and money making her family’s favorite pastries because Hen had almost died and he loved her. Maybe Karen had a point.
“Sit down,” she said, overwhelmed with fondness for the probie she watched grow up. “It’s been a minute since we talked.”
“Well, it’s not like I get invited to brunch,” Buck said, shockingly snide as he folded down into Karen’t abandoned chair. “Sorry,” he added to her raised eyebrows.
“Are you okay?” She went to lay a hand on his arm.
He shifted away. “I’m good. Hey, did you hear we’re getting an interim captain? Not Gerrard, thank god. I think they finally took the hint there.”
That explained the snideness. Buck loved the 118 too much to just let anyone into the captain’s chair, although he might not have a choice, given the long, slow recovery before Bobby.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Samuels. He used to captain the 93 back in the day,” Buck the infant said.
“I thought he retired.”
Buck shrugged. “Apparently not.”
“He’s a good captain, from what I hear. You’ll like him.” She broke a blondie in two and offered Buck half.
“I made those for you.” He waited until she took a bite before saying, “Are you going to take it when they offer it to you?”
The little shit timed it specifically so she couldn’t brush the question off. She had to sit with it as she chewed and swallowed and washed it all down with a sip of lemonade. He really wasn’t a probie anymore.
“If they offer it,” she said.
“Hen. Come on.”
She sighed and watched as Denny and Mara lined up their little cars for the race. This was the most time she spent with them in months. How much more of their lives would she miss if she was captain? How much more neglect could her marriage take before it collapsed, hollowed out? How much more could she bear?
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Bobby wants it for you. He’s been mentoring you.” Where she expected frustration or anger, there was only a quiet disappointment, like Buck has already worked out the answer before even asking the question.
“The last time I was acting captain,” she said with a forced calm, “I lost my daughter.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, even though he didn’t, he couldn’t.
What did Buck know about watching your child being taken away and knowing it was your fault because you let another mother’s son die? What the fuck did he know about her life?
“I’m getting tired,” she said, and perhaps for the first time in his life Buck took the hint.
“I gotta get going,” he said, standing with a wince, which meant he wasn’t stretching out his bad leg. “You’d be a good captain, Hen.”
“Thank you,” she said, and then, “Have you talked to Tommy?”
Buck startled. Yeah, turnabout was a bitch, wasn’t it?
“I texted him,” he said, not looking at her. “I haven’t heard back. Have, uh, have you talked to him?”
“I also texted and I also haven’t heard back,” she said. The disappointed droop of Buck’s shoulders made her stomach curdle with guilt. “He’s never been great about replying.”
“He was always good about getting back to me.” Buck shook himself and summoned up another terrible, cheerful smile. He waved to the kids and then slipped away.
In the yard, Denny let Mara win, and he smiled as she jumped and whooped. She loved her job but she loved her kids more.
“Everything okay?” Karen asked, slipping into the seat next to her.
“Yeah,” Hen said, snagging her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, “everything is great.”
3. When he wasn’t sleeping, Bobby was working his way through the puzzle books Athena and the kids had dropped off. He missed doing the daily Connections—he couldn’t look at a screen without his brain trying to crawl out his nose—but he was becoming an expert at Sudoko. He only bothered with the very hard puzzles now.
The door opened. It wasn’t time for his medications or for the nurses routine check in, less frequent now that the doctors assured him his internal organs weren’t in danger of liquefying, Athena was out at lunch with the kids, Hen was home recovering, and Chimney had only just been discharged. That left only one person.
“Buck,” he said, filling in a seven with a great sense of accomplishment. “I just saw you yesterday. What brings you by?”
Buck sheepishly held up a couple of cooler bags. “More of the meal train. I thought Athena and the kids might like it. Well, mostly Harry.”
“His does eat like he’s got hollow legs.” Bobby set the puzzle book aside. Buck looked the same as he had for the past week: exhausted but forcing himself to be cheerful. “When is the last time you slept?”
“Where’s Athena?” Buck avoided the question by setting the bags out of the way and folding himself into the uncomfortable chair with a wince.
And Bobby was hit with a sense memory of the doing the same when it was Buck in the hospital, his back stiff and aching from being curled over for hours as he prayed the rosary. Even no he could still feel the bump of them over his knuckles.
“Bobby?” Buck said.
“Sorry, I was wool gathering.” He gave Buck a reassuring smile that didn’t reassure enough as he hoped. “Athena is out with the kids right now, but she’ll be back.” The only person more difficult than Buck to chase home to sleep was Athena. He despaired of both their backs. “How’s it going, kid?”
“It’s good,” Buck said, summoning a smile that doesn’t do much beyond twisting his mouth up. Brooke had been the same way, smiling when she felt the worst so she wouldn’t worry them. “Eddie got offered a paramedic job. He’s going to take it. Chris really likes being back in Texas.”
“That’s good for both of them,” Bobby said, watching Buck closely. “Chim is back home.”
“The Lees are helping out. Jee is getting excited about having a baby brother again.” Buck wouldn’t look at him. “I saw Hen the other day. She’s doing well. I told her about Samuels.”
Ah, there it was, the true reason for Buck’s visit, the very thing he had and Athena had talked to death. Well, no time like the present. Time to rip off the band-aid and break Buck’s heart.
“Chief Simpson asked me for some recommendations,” Bobby said, shifting with a wince. Immediately Buck was there to rearrange the pillows. “Samuels is only temporary, but he’s a good man and will take care of you all until the position can be filled permanently.”
“So you’re not coming back,” Buck said dully.
“Too much damage this time,” he said gently. “I might stay on in a more administrative role, but I can’t be in the field again. It won’t be safe, not for me or for team.”
“I don’t know if Hen still wants to be captain,” Buck said, gaze fixed on some far away point. “Not after what happened with Mara.” He paused. “I don’t want Gerrard coming back.”
“He’s not. I won’t let that happen.” Bobby hesitated. “Tommy worked with Gerrard for years.”
That got Buck looking at him, if only to frown in confusion. “Uh, yeah, I know.”
“I never asked if that caused problems between you two,” he said, choosing his words with delicate care. “You never said why you broke up.”
“It wasn’t that.” Buck frowned harder. “Or not just that. We didn’t really talk about important stuff. Or any stuff.”
Looked like he got it wrong; this kid was breaking Bobby’s heart. “You can change that. Give him a call.”
Buck’s mouth twisted into a miserable knot. “I have been calling him and texting him but he won’t—” he broke off with an even more miserable sniff. “He hasn’t even left me on read. I think I used up my last chance with this one, Bobby.”
When they wheeled him out of the lab, oxygen mask over his face and fluids and plasma on standby, Tommy had been at Buck’s side, feet planted deep and immovable. If Tommy wasn’t picking up the phone, it was because he physically wasn’t able to.
“You should go check on him,” Bobby said. “He loves you, kid.”
Buck couldn’t even manage a smile for that. “Not anymore, if he ever did.”
Bobby reached out and gripped Buck’s arm. “You’re going to be okay, Buck. We both are. Captain’s orders.”
“Copy that, Cap,” Buck said, and sat with him until Athena returned.
4. Buck didn’t know Sal well enough to guess who he expected at his door on a Tuesday afternoon, but it probably wasn’t him having a nervous breakdown.
“Have you talked to Tommy?” Buck demanded, feeling crazy around the eyes.
“Have I,” Sal said slowly, “spoken with Tommy?”
Buck dug his phone out of his pocket and waved it in Sal’s face. “He hasn’t picked up when I call or answered my texts. He hasn’t even left me on read. Something is wrong.”
“Or, and stay with me on this,” Sal said, unimpressed and obviously losing patience, “he finally smartened up and stopped letting you ruin his life.”
“But when has he ever done the smart thing?” Buck shot back, mouth firmed to keep from miserably wobbling. “And it’s just not me he’s ignoring. He hasn’t texted Chim or Bobby back. He hasn’t responded to Hen. Does that sound like Tommy to you?”
Sal stared him down for a long moment before digging out his phone and scrolling through it. “I talked to him two weeks ago. Fuck.”
“Fuck,” Buck echoed through a mouth gone sour with fear.
“Fuck!” a naked toddler exclaimed with delight right before ramming into Buck’s legs.
“She’s going through a naked phase,” Sal said, expertly scooping up the kid before she could worm past Buck and complete her jailbreak. “You better come in.”
The naked toddler was called Maria, and she wailed dramatically as Sal wrestled her into a shirt with a t-rex on it. “When did you see him last?” Sal asked, ignoring as his daughter went completely limp in a last ditch effort to avoid wearing pants.
“At the lab. He, uh, he texted me and called me after that, but then he just stopped.” The fear curdled into shame. “I, uh, didn’t notice at first. I’ve been busy looking after everyone else.” A terrible smile stretched across his face, and he turned away so he wouldn’t frighten Maria. “Turns out they didn’t need me. Joke’s on me, I guess.”
Sal sighed very quietly. “All right, gremlin, you don’t have to wear socks but the pants and shirt stay on and you have to color quietly while I talk with Buck here. Deal?”
Maria frowned as she seriously considered it, looking so much like a miniature Tommy that Buck had to lock his jaw against an animal scream. “Deal,” she finally said, holding out a tiny hand for Sal to shake.
“Gina is a lawyer,” Sal said, setting Maria up in the living room with a coloring book, an army of plastic dinosaurs, and a literal bucket of crayons. “She loves making deals.”
“Gotta do deal,” Maria agreed, and upended the crayon bucket over her head. “Rain!”
“That’s right, honey, make it rain.” Sal dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then led Buck to the kitchen.
On the fridge, tacked up with a magnet in the shape of a watermelon, was a picture of Maria and Tommy, her tiny face pressed against his, their mouths open in a fearsome growl, hands hooked into tiny claws. Buck collapsed onto a chair. There was one like that of him and Jee on Maddie’s fridge, the two of them pretending to be tigers when Jee was in her big cat phase. Tommy was so loved, even if it wasn’t by him
“Are they t-rexes?” Buck asked.
“She’s obsessed with dinosaurs. If I have to watch one ore documentary about them I am taking a sledgehammer to the fossils at the natural history museum.” Sal leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Tell me what happened at the lab. Leave nothing out.”
Buck did. Sal’s eyebrows were the bitchy twin to Tommy’s, and by the time he got to the end, they were nearly in his hairline.
“Let me get this straight,” Sal said, stare gone hard and unforgiving, “Tommy pulls a stunt that could have gotten him black bagged and sent to Guantanamo, and you didn’t think to reach out to him until your little friends were too busy to play with you anymore?”
Buck winced. “They didn’t need me. I thought Tommy might.”
“Jesus Christ.” Sal scrubbed a hand over his face. “He’s a person, Buckley. You know that, right? Tommy is a person and not a doll you can take down from the shelf whenever you’re lonely.”
The shame sat like a stone in his stomach. “That’s fair,” he said quietly.
“You’re right that’s goddamn fair,” Sal snapped. “Do you have any idea what he lets you get away with? You are so careless with him.”
Buck flinched. It’d been almost ten year since he joined the LAFD, and he thought he’d grown up since then. Joke was on him again. He was still the careless twenty-six year old who couldn’t be trusted with anything important. All he did was break things.
“I know,” Buck said, forcing himself to meet Sal’s gaze. “But that doesn’t mean something isn’t wrong. I, uh, I went to bring him some of the meal train. He wasn’t home. His truck was in the driveway.”
Tommy’s truck was his baby, in that he doted on it more than some people did with their actual babies. If he absolutely had to let it sit out on his driveway, he always threw the custom made tarp over it. When the Jeep was up on the lift, Buck had watch Tommy spend ten minutes fussing with the drape over the tarp, worried about the weather, like SoCal was in danger of getting a freak hailstorm. Buck had found the whole thing charming and endearing.
“Oh hell,” Sal said and dug out his phone.
The first call rang through to Tommy’s voicemail, as did the second and then the third. Sal texted something quickly. The phone chimed. Sal’s frown changed from furious to worried.
“He’s not picking up for Gina either,” Sal said. “And he’s ignoring our 911 texts.”
The shame stone crumbled back into fear. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he?” Buck said.
“Yeah, kid, I think he is.” Sal blew out a long breath. “I gotta make some calls. Go make sure my kid has her clothes on and isn’t making another run for it.”
Buck stood but paused at the kitchen door. “Do you really think I ruined his life?”
Sal didn’t glance up for his phone. “Tommy is fully capable of ruining his own life, but you certainly helped.”
In the living room, Maria glanced up and said, “Wanna color?”
“I’d love to,” Buck said, and took a careful seat next to her.
Over the next hour, Sal made his calls. There were many of them, his voice rising and falling, although he only got loud exactly once.
“You left them in there to fucking die,” Sal snapped to what Buck futilely hoped wasn’t Chief Simpson. “You think the last contract negotiations were bad, wait until we put this to a fucking vote.”
It was quiet after that, and when Sal finally left the kitchen, it was with a solemnity that nearly made Buck snap a crayon in half.
“Hey, gremlin,” Sal said with a gentleness that every parent but his own had. “Can you go play in your room? I gotta talk to Buck.”
“Is Tommy okay?” she asked, shoulders hunching around her ears as she picked up on her dad’s mood.
“Tommy will be,” Sal said. “I’ll come play dinosaur graveyard with you after this. Deal?”
She stuck our her tiny hand for a shake. “Deal.” And then with a wild cackle, she sprinted towards her room. “Deal not with clothes!” Her shirt was the first to go.
“That’s on me,” Sal said. “I didn’t include clothes.”
Buck began cleaning up on reflex: coloring books neatly stacked on the coffee table, crayons back in the bucket, army of dinosaurs back into their own plastic container. It was the same thing he did after Jee was done playing. It was one less thing for Maddie to have to clean. He could do the same for Sal.
“Is Tommy okay?” he asked, digging a stray ankylosaur from under the couch.
Sal waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, he’s fine. He’s just been arrested.”
Black bagged, Buck thought, Guantanamo. His chest went tight. His lungs couldn’t expand. He stopped breathing.
“None of that shit, Buckley.” A hand on the back of his neck forced him head between his knees. “Tommy is fine. And if my wife gets her way, which she always does, he’ll be out before end of business today. So stop hyperventilating. You’re not helping.”
The edges of his vision cleared. He sucked in a lungful of air and then another. Tommy was under arrest but he was going to be okay. Buck would make sure he was. “I’m good,” he croaked, and Sal gentled his grip to help him to sit up. “Why did they only arrest him?”
“Probably because the army doesn’t want it to get out that they left some of LAFD’s bravest to die of super Ebola. Tommy is the easier target, and he embarrassed them by needing three choppers to take him down.”
It took six months, but he gotten pretty good at reading Tommy, but Sal was an unknown. They had only met once and only for about an hour over drinks. Buck had liked Gina more than her husband, and he spent most of that hour talking about the struggle of rolling back old, outdated laws. He didn’t know what it meant when Sal looked at him like that.
“I don’t know what goes in your fucked up little codependent polycule,” Sal said slowly, unblinking, “but Tommy needs you for this. And he won’t ever admit it because his parents fucked up him up good, but he needs you for the rest of it, too. Are you going to be there for him?”
“Yes,” Buck said.
Sal was unimpressed. “There are no half measures here. If you’re in it then you have to be all in and not just there when the rest of your family is too busy for a play date. If you can’t do that then you walk away right now and you stay gone. Tommy doesn’t need more help in ruining his life.”
Everyone he loved had someone—Maddie and Chim, Hen and Karen, even Eddie had his son—and Buck had been scrapping by for years now., useful but not permanent. Careless. But he wasn’t twenty-six anymore; he was capable of care.
“I’m here, for however long he wants me,” Buck said firmly.
Sal nodded, once. “Be at the courthouse in forty-five minutes. You need to give testimony.”
Buck scrambled up. He was unshaven and his shirt was at least one day past needing to be washed. His work duffel was still in the Jeep. There was a clean shirt in there and spare deodorant and even some pomade. It wasn’t great, but it was all he got.
“Go get our boy,” Sal said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Buck went.
5. Tommy had been in worse places than spending a week in county lockup. There was those long weeks he spent in a medical tent in the middle of the Afghan desert, waiting to be med evaced to Germany, infection creeping into the staples holding his guts in. There were the long nights at the 118, all of them exhausted from a five alarm fire where an entire family had died, and Gerrard had called them all weeping pussies for the crime of having a single feeling about it. There had been the morning in Eddie’s kitchen where Evan had confirmed his greatest fear, that he was only good for a fuck and nothing more. So yeah, on the whole, it could have been worse. It could always be worse.
Tommy signed the forms and was given back his personal belongings: wallet, aviator sunglasses, shitty movie receipt because movie theaters no longer gave out tickets, his phone with approximately three hundred missed calls and unanswered texts. Evan’s name was at the top.
He shoved everything into his pockets and stepped out a free man to where Evan Buckley was waiting for him. His eyebrows jumped up.
“Hi,” Evan said, hand raised in an abortive waive. His hair was slicked back like it was when the first started dating, before Tommy had unashamedly begged Evan to free his curls, and he was sporting at least three days worth of stubble. His face was gaunt. He hadn’t been sleeping. He was beautiful. “Sal and Gina are here if you want to—oh!”
Tommy crossed in three strides and grabbed Evan, holding on tight. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” Evan said, long arms wrapped around him, hands fisted in the back of Tommy’s shirt. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He tucked his face into Evan’s neck. He shook. “Is everyone okay? Bobby isn’t—”
Evan made a low noise. “They’re fine. Are you okay? You were in jail!”
He laughed to hide the shakes. “County jail. Doesn’t count.” Evan made that noise again. Tommy cupped the back of his head. “I’m okay. I promise. You sprung me.”
“Okay,” Evan said, sniffling even as he drew back. His eyes were wet and red rimmed. “So full disclosure, Sal and Gina did the springing. I just gave some testimony.” He touched Tommy’s cheek, his jaw, his mouth. “They’re giving us a day and then we have to over for dinner.”
“Not until tomorrow, right? We have the rest of the day?” he asked hopefully. His old sergeant said that it was the hope that killed you, but Tommy hoped anyway.
“Yeah, the whole day,” Evan said on a happy sigh. “I’m going to be so careful with you. I’m not going to let us ruin it this time. I promise.”
Tommy kissed the corner of his mouth. “Well, in that case, honey, you should take me home.”
Evan smiled like the sun coming up and took him home.
I guess I'm still suffering the after effects of the heatwave, because I can't get the words in order, so I'll ramble through a thought that won't leave me alone:
In the immediate aftermath of Buck's withdrawals, he feels exposed and stripped, from having spent who knows how long, under the scrutiny of his team. He can't look at any of them, without thinking of all the vulnerable things they've witnessed him do. Things he didn't get to choose whether or not he wanted to share.
He makes it through a single day (and sleepless night), alone in his house, before he gets in his car and drives to Tommy's place. He's lucky and Tommy is home. It's awkward, standing there on his doorstep. They aren't exactly jumping over each other to speak.
Buck asks if he can come in and Tommy says yes. They continue the silence in Tommy's living room. Tommy doesn't know about any of it and Buck isn't eager to tell him. For the first time, he has a choice in whether he wants to share it — he doesn't.
His eyes keep drifting to the hallway that leads to Tommy's bedroom. He looks at Tommy. He knows he should ask, he knows showing up here is crazy, he knows he can't just go lie on his ex-boyfriend's bed. It would be a shitty thing to do, just waltz in, like he's entitled to any of it.
But he does it anyway. He walks down the hallway and pushes the bedroom door open. The bed is unmade, like it always was. He can see Tommy looking from the living room. It sits heavy in his chest, whatever this feeling is. Knowing he's not entitled to any of this. He can't just show up in Tommy's life whenever he wants to.
But he can't not do it. He opens the door the rest of the way, toes off his shoes and climbs into Tommy's sheets. He cries almost instantly. His whole body feels like his skin has been peeled off, but Tommy's sheets are soft and slept in. Everything smells like him. There's not phantom smell of vomit, no anxiety sweat. The sheets smell like Tommy's skin.
Any moment now, Tommy will come through the door and ask him what the fuck he's doing, ask him to leave, and he'll have every right to, because his crazy ex-boyfriend keeps taking advantage of the fact that he loves him.
Tommy never said, but Buck knows that Tommy loves him. Buck was afraid of jumping the gun and didn't say it first.
Tommy appears in the door, but he doesn't look angry or outraged or anything like it. His brows are furrowed in what looks like concern; an expression Buck is all too familiar with at the moment.
Tommy climbs onto the bed and lies down beside him. He doesn't say anything, doesn't demand anything. All he does is lie close and thumb a tear off Buck's cheek. Buck gathers a handful of the sheets and presses them to his face. They're already wet, but he doesn't know what else to do.
Tommy touches the back of his head and Buck's whole body curls up in what feels a lot like fear. Tommy holds on a little firmer. His thumb presses up behind Buck's ear, rubbing gently. A sob rips its way out of his throat, only slightly muffled by the sheets.
Tommy stays. His hand is warm and steady. Buck doesn't know how long he cries for. It feels like forever. There is still the occasional hiccup, when he moves the sheet away from his eyes. He looks at Tommy through the wet clumps of his eyelashes. He hasn't looked himself in the mirror in weeks. He knows he's halfway to a scraggly beard, but he doesn't know what it looks like.
He's holding the sheets against his mouth. The words are warm and humid, when he says, "I'm sorry."
"I've got you," Tommy says. He has no idea what's going on, has no idea why Buck is even here, yet that's the first thing he says. Buck can hardly bear it.
"I know you do," every word shakes on the way out. Buck knows he's a horrible person, knows he's taking advantage again, but he knows. He knows Tommy has him and he knows he means it. "I'm sorry."
Tommy pulls him forward, wet sheets and all, and tucks him against his chest. His arms feel like they did the last time he held Buck, and like every time before it. He feels solid and real in ways nothing else has for over a year.
Tommy doesn't ask for an explanation; not because he doesn't want one, but because he's giving Buck a choice. Tommy spent six months telling him you don't have to do that every single time someone asked him to do something. Every favour, every everything. Buck had brushed it off, hadn't understood the significance. He does now.
"I fucked up," he breathes into Tommy's chest.
With no context, Tommy says, "It'll be OK." Tommy hasn't been to therapy, but he carries strong beliefs about the world and the people in it. Death is the only thing you can't come back from, as he so eloquently and morbidly put it one time. And the thing is, Buck believes him. When Tommy says it'll be OK, it will. Maybe not the way you imagine it will, but things will work out.
Buck stays. They both do. In the bed, at first. Then the kitchen, where Tommy makes him eat, and drink water until he feels sick. He stays the night. And another night. Tommy doesn't ask, all he does is stay. He asks about the here and now. Are you hungry? Are you tired? Wanna go for a walk? He excuses himself to the backyard and makes a phone call. Buck assumes he's calling out of work, but Tommy doesn't say. Tommy doesn't offer, doesn't ask, he just does it.
Buck's phone is slowly filling up with text messages and missed phone calls. After two nights' sleep in Tommy's bed, he's rested enough that the reality of the situation hits a little harder. He's effectively gone missing right after a detox, as much as he's been answering the texts, saying he's fine. Tommy asks if he's missed a shift. Buck says he's on leave. Tommy doesn't ask for any more information than that.
The only call he ends up returning is Maddie's. He keeps it brief, says he's with Tommy. It sticks in his throat on the first try, but the second makes it out. "I'm safe." Maddie is still worried. He doesn't want to give her details, but she won't let up. "It's quiet here," he swallows. "I just need it to be quiet." He doesn't know why that resonates with her, but she eases up and says she'll let the others know.
After he hangs up, he looks at Tommy. The guilt sits heavy in his throat. Tommy is taking time off to be here. He's wearing Tommy's clothes, he's eating his food, he's taking up space in his home.
Tommy thumbs a tear off his cheek and says, "I've got you."
"I keep asking you to do stuff," he sniffles.
"I can be mad about that later," Tommy says, as if that's an option. "Whatever this is, whatever you're going through, this is more important." He ends it there, doesn't demand to know what this is.
Buck vows to explain it, to tell Tommy everything he wants to know, and to apologise a whole heck of a lot, but for now, he sits in Tommy's house, in the quiet, where no one is demanding anything, and taking up space doesn't come with a price.
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ft. Theo Riley, Evan Buckley, and a certain firefighter pilot who will be given a new name
***
It's not the first time they're out hiking, but this is definitely not how Buck predicted the day to go.
They have just got to the highest point of the trail that overlooks the Pacific. It is a beautiful sight, and Theo is still energetic enough to appreciate the panorama.
"Can we have our picnic here?" the kid asks.
"Okay, why don't we go to that tree over there and we'll have some snacks before we head down?"
"But first I wanna photo for show and tell. I wanna tell my class about us hiking sooooo far!" Theo throws open his arms for emphasis.
Buck grins and hunkers down next to the boy, phone already on selfie mode. Every time they do something new, Theo wants a picture as proof he's done it. "Alright. Biggest smile you got, kid. In one, two, three!"
But just as Buck is snapping the photo, Theo sees an interesting butterfly and spins to follow its flight path. Suddenly, the ground gives way and his foot slips. With a shriek, Theo falls.
With a desperate reach Buck tries to catch the boy, his fingers catching on Theo's watch as Buck sprawls on the ground, stopping the boy's slide for a second, but the strap breaks before Buck can swing his other arm down to grab Theo. Horrified and breathless, Buck can only watch, as Theo slides down the side of the hill, coming to a stop on a narrow ledge just under a boxthorn shrub.
"Don't move!" Buck yells. His heart is about to hammer out of his chest. Does he have ropes? Webbing? How long will that ledge hold?
"I'm scared!" Theo cries, his little face blotchy and tears cut through the dirt on his cheeks.
"I know, but you-you just flatten yourself against the slope, okay? Yes, exactly like that, and don't move, I promise you, I'm gonna get help, we'll get you out of this."
Buck wants to cry himself. Still flat on the ground, he dials 9-1-1, but the second it connects, another tremor hits. The ground under Buck shifts also and he is slipping down the side of the hill. Flailing wildly, he somehow catch hold of a thicker branch within the shrub near Theo's ledge and it stops his fall. Buck is sure that the spines have ripped up his palm, but at least he's not plummeting to his death in front of a little boy who already lost his parents in an accident.
If Buck swings his feet, he'll land on the ledge. It's only a few inches away. But he is much bigger and heavier than a little boy. The ledge isn't that large; he won't risk putting his weight on it.
"Theo, can you shuffle over very very carefully?" Buck asks. His other hand is still gripping his phone tightly, and he can hear the dispatcher on the other end of the line. "Shuffle along with your tummy to the slope, okay? Just a bit closer to me."
Theo gulps and takes one step closer. Then two.
Buck can feel his hand getting wet with blood, but thankfully the boxthorn seems to be firmly rooted.
For now.
Gingerly, he passes his phone to Theo. "Take the phone, buddy."
The boy is visibly trembling, but he takes the phone.
"Put it on speaker," Buck says, reaching up with his other hand to grab the stem, closer to the root. The prick of dozens of spines startles cold sweat along his spine and over his brow. He digs his fingers in and uses the pain to focus.
The dispatcher on the other end of the line calls out, "Hello, what's your emergency?"
"This is off duty firefighter Buckley and his son, we slipped off the side of a hill when the earthquake hit," Buck states as loudly as he can, and gives the name of the trail and how far they've come. "Theo is trapped on a ledge but he's mostly uninjured, but I'm hanging from a boxthorn shrub, and my hands are bleeding. I don't know if there'll be more aftershocks and how long the ledge will hold." He inhales sharply and racks his brain to think of how to say the next part without freaking Theo out. "My grip is increasingly compromised. But the ledge may find our combined weight unsustainable if an aftershock hits."
"Copy, firefighter Buckley. We will send an SAR unit your way right now," the dispatcher says. "If your hands are bleeding, is your son holding your phone?"
"Yeah, yes he is, he's just a step away from me." Buck inhales sharply as the thorns dig deeper. "He's a very brave boy. He's gonna... He's gonna hold on to the phone and he'll yell when you say to yell."
Theo's eyes grow big and round, but he bites his lower lip and nods firmly. "Yeah, I can yell real big."
"That's good. Theo, right?"
"Uh huh."
"How old are you, Theo?"
As Theo talks to the dispatcher, Buck focuses on breathing through the pain in his hands. He can't let go. He cannot risk letting go. He doesn't even reach over with his left foot to put a toe on the ledge, because he will never forgive himself if that is what it takes to send Theo tumbling down.
After several minutes, they both hear the steady thub-thub-thub of a helicopter. Buck both wishes and is terrified that it will be Tommy at the controls.
"Alright, Theo, time to yell really loud. Just shout, we're here! Until someone says they see you."
Theo nods, and then screams at the top of his little lungs. Buck shouts too, but his voice comes out cracked. Every time he shouts the pain in his hands deepens. Tears come to his eyes as Theo shouts and shouts, his face turning red, until finally someone at the top hollers, "We see you! Alright, stay still, little buddy, we're coming to get you!"
Buck clenches his hands around the bush even more tightly. Tommy isn't at the controls of the helicopter. Tommy is right here. Tommy is saving Buck's son.
***
It should have been the best day of Theo's life. He should be asking for a thousand photos so he can tell his class about the first time he got into a helicopter.
Instead he's burrowed into Buck's side in the back, sobbing from relief and the adrenaline crash, while Buck tries his best to soothe him with hands hastily wrapped up into something resembling mittens. Tommy is next to Theo, one big hand laid awkwardly on the boy, while someone Buck has never met flies them to LA General.
***
At the hospital, Theo is wrapped in a blanket and someone gives him a juice box from Buck's backpack while the doctor pulls boxthorn spines out of Buck's hands. His face has been wiped clean of dirt for the most part.
To Buck's surprise, Tommy is right next to Theo. His face is a mask of worry and desperate curiosity, but he manfully says nothing as Buck is being treated.
"There you go." Dr Brennan smiles ruefully, her dark eyes warm. "You're not to go in to work until the skin is fully grown back, obviously. But I fear you're gonna find it hard to manage day to day until they heal."
"We'll find a way," Buck says. He glances at Theo and then his gaze flickers up to Tommy and mouths, Take him outside.
Tommy nods. "I'm gonna make some phone calls. You wanna help me, Theo?"
"Can we call from the helicopper?" Theo asks.
Chuckling, Tommy shakes his head. "Sorry, kiddo. Right now we gotta make calls to your aunt Maddie and uncle Chimney. Come on."
Once Tommy and Theo are outside, Buck sags into the chair. His body shivers. "I can't be prescribed with anything heavier than over the counter painkillers," he tells Dr Brennan. "And will gloves help?"
"The less you use your hands, the better the skin will repair itself." The doctor makes a note in his chart. "Your partner will have to do all the heavy lifting, and even the lighter lifting for a while."
He's not my partner, Buck wants to say, but he holds his tongue.
At least it hadn't been a big earthquake. Theo and Buck had just been unlucky, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The ER isn't crowded like it would've been in a multi-casualty event.
***
When Buck is finally discharged, Theo is on a chair talking into Tommy's phone very seriously. Tommy sees Buck and motions for him to take a seat too.
"It's Chim on the line," Tommy tells him. "We couldn't get Maddie."
"She's probably swamped at dispatch." Buck feels exhausted. "Thanks, Tommy. You really saved our butts today."
"And Buck said butt," Theo informs Chimney. He listens, and then says, "Buck can't hold the phone. His hands are all wrapped up. Like he's wearing mittens."
Tommy sighs and holds out a hand. "I'll speak to him."
"It's the Thub-Thub Man," Theo whispers solemnly into the phone before he hands it to Tommy. When he turns to face Buck, his eyes are red-rimmed. His gaze falls to Buck's wounded hands and he swallows visibly before he hugs himself. "Buck?"
"Yeah?"
"Is it because of me?"
Buck frowns. "Is what because of you?"
"People getting hurt. Like you. People dying." Theo's lower lip wobbles. "Like mommy and daddy."
Buck's heart breaks anew. "Oh no, Theo sweetheart. Come here. Come here, let me hug you." He wraps his arms around Theo's thin body and pulls him close. The boy starts crying. "Me getting injured has got nothing to do with you, okay? Nothing at all. You were the one who got Tommy to us, right? You did as you were told in a scary situation, and you shouted real loud when you were told to, and you were brave. It was an accident. Your mommy and daddy were in an accident, and this is an accident. We're both safe now." He kisses the top of Theo's head. "I'm safe because you were so brave, kid. You were so, so brave."
When he looks up, he sees Tommy staring at him with an inexplicable expression. Buck smiles at him weakly.
"Chimney's picking up Nash from daycare and then Jee from school," Tommy says. "He asked me to take you both home. Theo is..."
"My son," Buck says immediately. His smile tightens when Tommy raises a quizzical eyebrow. "Tell you later."
Tommy makes a face that suggests that he doesn't know how he is supposed to take that answer, but Theo is still sobbing quietly and it clearly isn't the right time. Instead, Tommy exhales a long breath and says, "Alright. Come on, let's get you boys home."
"Your car is here?" Buck is surprised. Surely Tommy didn't leave Theo alone while he went to get his car...
"Lucy and her girlfriend dropped it off just now."
Lucy has a girlfriend? Buck gently disengages from the hug but Theo clings to him. "We're going home, kid," Buck murmurs. Theo just clings tighter.
"Evan can't carry you," Tommy says gently, "so how about you hold his wrist and help him to my car?"
Theo sniffs and pulls back to look at Buck. Whatever the boy sees in Buck's face must reassure him, because he nods and lets go, long enough for Buck to stand up, and then his fingers grab hold of Buck's wrist. Then Theo turns to look up at Tommy. "You're gonna help too, right?"
"Uh."
"You said you're Buck's friend," Theo continues. "That means you'll help him too, right?"
Tommy's storm blue eyes seek out Buck's. The faintest of smiles hover on his lips. "Yes, if he wants me to."
"Of course he wants you to," Theo declares with he conviction of a four-year-old. "You rescued me and him. Buck rescued me when he was Mr Poop and we're a family now and you rescued us so you're gonna be our family too but Buck isn't allowed to die or go to heaven before you become family, okay?"
It's a lot to take in. Buck exhales shakily and smiles at Tommy. "Help me out?"
For the five facts AU: Bucktommy au where Tommy is a librarian and Buck is the guy that keeps coming in researching some crazy topics and Tommy is always the one having to help him find the right books.
This one is very fun. Also I know nothing about how libraries work; I just use them.
1. The first thing Tommy did when he returned home after his honorable discharge was to move into the small apartment above his grandfather’s house. No, the first thing he did was stand in departures fighting the urge to get right back on the plane and get the hell out of town. The fourth thing he did, after buying a new mattress for the apartment because the old one was too soft after years of sleeping in various barracks and bases, was go to the library.
It hadn’t changed in the years he’d been away: children’s section on the first floor, young adult tucked away in the far corner, fiction on the second level, microfiche and nonfiction in the basement, and Mr. Artie behind the main desk.
“My gracious, is that little Tommy Kinard?” Mr. Artie said, practically sprinting around the desk, arms held out in invitation. Tommy stepped into them. “Oof, not so little anymore. What as the army done to you?”
“Given me PTSD and a new appreciation for good water pressure,” he said.
“Oh, honey,” Mr. Artie said, and rubbed his back in the way Tommy always figured parents who loved the kids did. “I have missed you.”
Mr. Artie hadn’t changed either. He still wore colorful bow ties and listened intently to the small kids who were so excited to use their library cards to check out books and patiently helped older folk use the computer and sign up for email and navigate various government websites. And when he wasn’t doing that, Mr. Artie was handing him books to read like he was still that angry little kid who would have lived in the library full time if it meant he never had to go home again.
Just like then, Tommy hung around so often that Mr. Artie designated him a volunteer and showed him how to check out books for the patrons. He read and he shelved books and he helped a kid find books on dinosaurs and put in a request for the Bunnicula books for another and, once, pulled some queer books for a terrified fourteen year old and reserved them a small study room so they could read in peace and not have the books show up on their account.
“You’re good with them,” Mr. Artie said quietly.
Tommy shrugged and requested a few other books from the library system to be checked out under his account. The kid could read them when they came in. “Being fourteen is hard. No reason to make it harder.”
“Come to dinner tomorrow,” Mr. Artie said. “I know you’re not busy and Steven is grilling.”
2. Tommy forwent buying a bottle of wine because he knew fuckall about wine, but he picked up some flowers and a some pretentious beers from the one pretentious liqour store in town and went to dinner. Everyone knew Mr. Artie was gay, but they were polite enough not call attention to it, probably because the entire population under the age of twenty would riot if they tried to oust him from his position.
Mr. Artie was delighted by the flowers and Tommy nursed a beer and watched as Mr. Artie and Steven moved around each other with the familiarity of long years and pretended that he didn’t ache.
When dinner was eaten and Steven had chased them to the rocking chairs on the back porch so he could clean up, Mr. Artie said, “Have you thought about what you’ll do now that you’re home?”
His grandfather had also been asking that, but it stung less coming from Mr. Artie.
“I have my pilots license,” Tommy said. “There’s some outfits nearby that run tours. I might do that. It’s not bad money.”
“And you like flying,” Mr. Artie said, gently rocking. “You’re good with the kids at the library. You’re even good with the people you don’t like.”
“Now that’s not true,” Tommy said, matching his rocking speed to Mr. Artie’s.
“It is. You’re a kind man, Tommy, and I don’t want you wasting away here.” Mr. Artie reached across the space between them and gently took Tommy’s hand in his. “You more than earned that GI Bill. Consider putting it to use. There’s no rule saying you can’t keep your license and do something else.”
Tommy swallowed around the familiar pain. “Do you think school is for me?”
Mr. Artie squeezed his hand. “It’s for everyone, but I think you would make a wonderful librarian, if that’s where your passion leads you.”
“Okay,” he said quietly, and squeezed back.
3. Tommy took a couple classes at the community college and then took a couple more. His grades were decent and then more than decent when he really buckled down. Mr. Artie helped him apply to school, most of them in Los Angeles, all of them out of town, and wrote a recommendation letter so glowing it felt like it belongs to someone else.
When he received an acceptance letter, Mr. Artie whooped so loudly he disturbed every teenager in the manga section.
“There’s something else,” Tommy said, hands shaking so hard that Mr. Artie took hold to steady him. “I’m gay.” It was the first time he ever admitted it out loud.
“Welcome to the family, honey,” Mr. Artie said, and held him so tightly that Tommy felt it in his ribs.
4. Tommy got his bachelor’s and then his master’s and joined the greater Los Angles Public Library system as a reference librarian who had a reputation for being able to find information on any subject, no matter how obscure or embarrassing. Tommy lost count of how many times he directed a blushing queer kid toward The Joy of Gay Sex and then on to his favorite informative pamphlet on trans sex.
So it didn’t even make his top five strangest requests when a beautiful man with a birthmark stamped above his eye said, “Hey, what are the new frogs?”
“Is this for a school project?” Tommy asked, already pulling up JSTOR.
“Personal research,” the guy said.
A cute kid on crutches, practically hidden by the guy’s, holy shit, long legs, piped up. “My cousin says we discovered all the frogs and there are no new ones, and she’s wrong.”
“But you need citations to support your case,” Tommy said, and the kid nodded vigorously. He refined his search to find something more kid friendly. “Well, it turns out you’re in luck. New species were discovered this year. I’ll get you set up at a computer and you can read some articles. I’ll even show you how to format a bibliography. That should shut up your cousin.”
Tommy led the kid and his dad to a computer and showed him the same search he used and pointed to him where the printers were and ignored how the dad’s gaze kept tracking to him.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Tommy said.
“You’ll be our first call,” the dad said. “I-I mean, if we have more frog questions. Or other questions. Like about, um, space.”
“Space?” the kid said.
“Yeah, like what’s going on up there,” the dad continued with an agonized expression that meant he was actively wishing for death. “Um, thanks for your help.”
“Any time,” Tommy said.
By the time the kid finished with his research, a stack of printed articles stuffed in his backpack, Tommy handed the dad a list of books about the history of space exploration. “Just in case you were curious about what’s going on up there,” he said.
“I know you’re making funny of me,” the dad said, “but joke’s on you. I’m going to read every one of these.”
“That’s why I gave you the list,” Tommy said, and smiled as the kid groaned and dragged his dad to the exit.
5. “Do you got anything on the history of ceiling fans?”
Tommy looked up into the handsome face of the dad from last week.
“Moved on from frogs, huh?” he said, already defining the parameters of the search. “Did your son win the argument?”
The guy blinked. “My—you mean Chris? He’s not my son. He’s the son of my partner. Work partner,” he added quickly. “I’m a firefighter, and so is Eddie. That’s Chris’s dad. I’m Buck. Uh, Evan Buckley. Hi.”
“Hello, Evan Buckley,” Tommy said, and tapped the nameplate on his desk. “That’s me.”
Evan made a show of looking at the plate. “Thanks for the space recs, Tommy. I really liked the one about the cosmonauts.”
“Just don’t go reading that one article about the lost cosmonauts. The scholarship on it is appalling.”
Evan was suspiciously quiet.
“Evan.”
“So are you really not going to ask me why I want to know about the history of ceiling fans?” Evan said.
“That doesn’t even make the list of top twenty weird things I’ve been asked to find references for,” he said. “And I don’t research and tell.”
Evan pouted. “We had a call the other day where a ceiling fan beaned this guy hard on the head, and I got curious about them.”
Of course he did. Tommy printed the list he compiled. “A lot of this is going to be about design, but I think you’ll find some good sources in there.” He tapped the bottom of the list. “I also added some micro histories in case you got bored with the fans. The one on salt is good. So is the butter.”
Evan stared intently at the list. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Tommy leaned in and lowered his voice. “You seem like the type to like fun facts. These are very fun facts.” He leaned back. “Anything else I can help you with?”
Evan jumped and glanced behind him where a sleep deprived student looked to on the verge of tears. “Uh, no, this is great. Thank you.”
“It’s what I do,” Tommy said, and waved the student forward.
6. Evan became a regular after that, stopping at least once a week with a new topic he was interested in: tattoos, African currency swords, clown eggs, a biography on Archduke Ferdinand, bones.
“Bones,” Tommy repeated. “Are you talking about in an anthropological sense? Do you want to read up on hominid fossils? Or are you more interested in it from a medical science angle?”
“Surprise me,” Evan said, and smiled at his sigh. “Hey, what’s your favorite thing someone has asked you to look up?”
Tommy thought about it while he picked out the densest anthropological textbooks to give Evan. “One woman came in asking for more information on sky burials. I never heard of it before, so I liked that I got to learn about it alongside her.”
Evan perked up. “What’s a sky burial?”
“It’s a mainly Tibetan practice. In higher elevations, the ground is too hard to bury the bodies and there isn’t enough wood for cremations. So when a person dies, their bodies are broken down and fed to the vultures.” He chanced a glance at Evan who was listening intently, the same as he did with everything Tommy told him. “I know it sounds macabre, but it’s—”
Tommy turned his attention back to his search. “Yeah, me too.”
When he sent Evan off to find the textbooks and the few resources on sky burials, his coworker June rolled over and said, “It’d be less embarrassing if you just asked to suck his dick.”
“This is why they don’t let you around kids,” Tommy said, and shoved her away.
7. Evan, Tommy learned, liked documentaries and histories and saw maybe two movies a year, and made a noise when Tommy asked if he ever read fiction.
“Sometimes,” Evan said. “I have a hard time finding anything that keeps my attention.”
Tommy started him with some Alexander Dumas (The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Crisco) and then a few old adventure stories (The Scarlet Pimpernel), and then a couple of romances and some fantasy, some of which he liked (Discworld) and some of which he didn’t (Tolkien was a bust), and then some scifi since Evan liked learning about space.
“Try this,” Tommy said handing over a copy of A Matter of Oaths, which he’d set specifically aside. “It’s one of the early queer space operas.”
Evan mentioned some ex-girlfriends and Tommy had carefully let slip that he dated men, and Evan had sweetly proclaimed himself an ally. But this was different. This was the book Mr. Artie had given him one rainy, miserable day that had made little fourteen year old Tommy feel less alone.
Evan smoothed gentle fingers along the spine. “I’m excited to read it.”
6. “While this courtship is very sweet,” Mr. Artie said that evening during their regularly scheduled call, “have you considered asking him out?”
“He’s straight,” Tommy said, pawing through his fridge for something that was edible. “And it would be unprofessional.”
“Honey, you told him about sky burials and had him read A Matter of Oaths. The only thing left at this point is to ask him to dinner.”
“Ask him to marry you!” Steve called out.
“I should have become a grossly overpaid private pilot,” Tommy said.
“You would have been so miserable,” said Mr. Artie, “and you would never have met your Evan.”
Well, Mr. Artie wasn’t wrong.
7. Tommy was late coming back to lunch, which meant he was going to get an earful from June, who hated covering the reference desk. She saw him heading over and, with audible relief, said, “Thank god. Your regular needs some help.”
Evan reluctantly turned around with a small wave. “I thought you were off today.”
“The flu’s been taking everyone out. I’m covering.” He slipped behind the desk. “What are we looking up today? You were on that bee kick last week.”
Evan turned a beseeching look on June, but he would have better luck with some actual bees; she happily abandoned him for her beloved microfiche archive.
“Uh, queer history?” Evan fiddled with the cuffs of his baby pink cardigan. “My coworker, uh, friend Hen, she’s married to a woman and I thought I should look into it more. I mean, I know there’s Stonewall and the AIDs crisis and then gay marriage.”
“Those are the highlights,” he said dryly and instantly regretted it when Evan winced. He made an effort to soften his tone. “There’s a lot more to it than that.”
“There is!” Evan snapped his fingers. “And I figured maybe I should learn more since Pride is coming up.”
“In four months,” he said absently, trying to figure out what to even suggest. Evan liked histories, but did Tommy start him with Stonewall? Did he give Evan a history about queerness during the Harlem Renaissance? There were more contemporary sources, things Evan had been alive for—the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and Obergefell—but that was an US centric approach, and so many countries had their own queer cultures.
“I didn’t think this would stump you,” Evan said with a brave little smile.
“You know I like to make sure I get it right,” Tommy said, and printed out the list. “Start with these photography collections. It’s just queer people living their lives. If you like that, we can move on to specifics.”
“Thank you,” Evan said quietly, and made it two steps before turning back. “Hey, you also have a copy of The Joy of Gay Sex, right? I just want to be thorough.”
Tommy laughed so hard he could barely point Evan in the direction of the stacks.
8. Between his shifts and Evan’s shifts and a baby version of the flu felling him, it was three weeks before he saw Evan again. They’d been short staffed and apparently every high school student in the city waited until the last minute to write their report on Of Mice and Men, and all he wanted was to go home and watch something devoid of any kind of educational value.
Evan, dressed in a nice button up shirt and nervously bouncing on his heels, was waiting outside.
His eyebrows bounced up. “Evan, what are you doing here?”
Evan shoved his hands into his pockets only to immediately take them out again. “I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner. With me, if that wasn’t clear.” His hair was so carefully styled. “Also I watched this program on sky burials the other day and that’s genuinely what I want now.”
Tommy cracked up and reached for Evan’s hand. “Tell me about it at dinner.”
Evan laced this fingers together.
9. Tommy brought Evan home for Mr. Artie’s retirement party.
“Oh, honey, you did good,” Mr. Artie said, immediately pulling Evan into a hug. “Be honest with me, did the sky burials work?”
“That and the history of salt,” Evan said, any nervous shyness vanishing. “I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you.”
“You are the first boy Tommy has ever brought home.” And Mr. Artie hugged Evan so hard he must have felt in his ribs. “Welcome to the family, Evan. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” Tommy said softly, and Evan smiled bright and joyous and free.
sometimes you rewatch Sense8 for the plot, sometimes you rewatch Sense8 for the character bonding, sometimes you rewatch Sense8 to watch queer characters not die and actually have a very happy ending, sometimes you rewatch Sense8 for the healthy, mature, and supportive romantic and platonic relationships portrayed in the show, sometimes you rewatch Sense8 for the action sequences, sometimes you rewatch Sense8 for the music and party moments that alter your brain chemistry, sometimes you rewatch Sense8 for the fucking orgies and the beautifully done sex scenes, sometimes you rewatch Sense8 just for the fucking awesome cluster transition shots— every time they’re walking around and suddenly all other 7 of ‘em pop outta nowhere seamlessly or that fucking shot of Wolfgang walking down the alleyway and he’s visiting all his other selves and they turn up to follow behind him as they all line up into one and then in the restaurant with lila- the shot of them all rising behind him—
there so many fucking reasons to rewatch this show.
Hearing Nomi's blog post about Pride in Sense8 s1ep1 again brought up all kinds of feelings, and I think it's important to bring it back:
For a long time I was afraid to be who I am because I was taught by my parents there's something wrong with someone like me. Something offensive. Something you would avoid maybe even pity. Something that you would never love. My mom, she's a fan of Saint Thomas of Aquinas. She calls pride a sin. Saint Thomas saw pride as the queen of the seven deadlies. She saw it as the ultimate gateway sin that would turn you quickly into a sinaholic. But hating isn't a sin on that list. Neither is shame. I was afraid of this parade because I wanted so badly to be a part of it. So today I'm marching for that part of me that was much too afraid to march. And for all the people who can't march. The people living lives like I did. Today, I march to remember that I'm not just a me. I'm also a we. We march with pride. So go fuck yourself, Aquinas.
Copy pasted from this article to which I readded "fuck" cos thats the only damn source i could find with the whole thing
I was rereading some of my favorite BuckTommy fics this past weekend and I found myself getting unexpectedly emotional.
Not because of the stories themselves, although they always manage to destroy me in the best possible ways, but because I was struck all over again by the sheer love and care that this community has poured into bucktommy. Every fic feels like a gift. Every author saw something special in these characters and decided they were worth exploring, worth understanding, worth fighting for. The talent in this fandom genuinely amazes me. The way writers captured their chemistry, their potential, all the little moments and possibilities left between the lines leaves me in awe every time.
But then there's this sadness that creeps in alongside it. Because no matter how many incredible stories I read, there's always the knowledge that the actual show writers are never going to give Buck and Tommy the story they deserved. They'll never get the care, development, and payoff that so many fic writers have given them for free. They'll never get the chance to become what they could have been on our TV screens.
That's why this fandom means so much to me, because while the show has moved on, this community hasn't. People keep writing. Keep creating. Keep imagining a future where Buck and Tommy are allowed to matter. A future where their relationship is treated with the depth and respect it deserves. And honestly, most of those fan fics feel more real and more emotionally satisfying than anything the show could have given us.
I still love BuckTommy. I probably always will. I still believe they deserved better, but today, more than anything, I'm grateful. Grateful for every writer, grateful for every fic that gave them another chance. Grateful for a community that refused to let a story end just because the show decided it was over.
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When Everything Everywhere All at Once said “The only thing I do know is that we have to be kind. Please, be kind, especially when we don’t know what’s going on"
When the Good Place said "Why choose to be good every day when there is no guaranteed reward now or in the afterlife… I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people and our innate desire to treat them with dignity. Simply put, we are not in this alone.”
When Jean-Paul Sartre said ”‘Hell is other people’ is only one side of the coin. The other side, which no one seems to mention, is also 'Heaven is each other’. Hell is separateness, uncommunicability, self-centeredness, lust for power, for riches, for fame. Heaven on the other hand is very simple, and very hard: caring about your fellow beings.“
i just love every single member of the cluster so much
will who takes on the responsibility of protecting everyone and keeping them safe and jumps in to say that that guy was wearing a kevlar vest and if you don’t get your hands off her i’ll show you what violence looks like
kala who believes as much in science as she does in her faith because everything happens for a reason and whether it was by a god or created out of science a miracle is a miracle
wolfgang who has literally had to fight his way through life and is incredibly intelligent he can crack a safe as well as he can crack skulls and does what he has to keep the people he cares about alive
sun who actually resents her father and brother but made a promise to her mother to protect them and who is she if she can’t keep her promises so she lets out all of her anger in underground boxing matches
capheus who is so hopeful about everything and the only one who didn’t question what was happening like hey korean lady i felt your spirit inside me riley can i have some of your english tea because i’m going to have a good day today i can feel it
nomi who spent so long feeling uncomfortable in her own skin and fighting for what she believed was right even though it was illegal because what are laws if they’re being used against the people they’re meant to protect
lito who struggles with the characters he plays in telenovelas and who he is in his real life and believed that he couldn’t have both but he really can because having courage doesn’t always mean shooting bad guys sometimes it’s being with the person that you love
riley who truly believed that she was cursed and couldn’t love anyone let alone herself but ended up finding seven other people who can take her places she’s never been and show her that she matters because she’s not just one person anymore she’s eight
every single person in the cluster is equally important and they all balance each other out in different ways and i honestly can’t believe a show has made me feel this way
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”Bobby, watching from a distance, stepped forward, the movement catching Tommy’s attention. He growled sharpy, shifting his body to shield Buck.
Bobby’s ear twitched, surprised. Hell, even Buck was confused as to what Tommy was doing. Bobby tentatively stepped forward, but Tommy’s growl deepened.
Fearing a fight, Buck pushed his head under Tommy’s, eliciting a low rumble of approval. Bobby, content with whatever he saw, retreated. And Buck, exhausted from the night’s events, lay down. Tommy curled around him, grooming him with unusual care, as if worried Buck was more injured than he was. His leg throbbed, but it felt more like a strain than anything.”
Destiny Brought Me to You by @lostintheuniverseslies
Started to think how that would look like when mates are connected and all outside hurdle and own thoughts calm when you’re around your mate. Tried to draw somekind of ”bubble” around them. Also I really wanted Tommy to look like in real agony and little hesitant to calm down. He just wants one thing and it is Buck to be saved 😭 but the irritation feeling if he and the pack wouldn’t come sooner . . .
well this got wildly out of hand! we got angst, we got drunk buck, we got feelings, we got some fluff <3
“Evan,” Tommy hissed to the man in front of him. Evan spun around, surprise written on his face. “Quick, kiss me before they come over here.”
Evan, thankfully, was still the kind of guy that would help him out, and pulled him into a bone-melting kiss. Tommy sagged against him gratefully.
“Tommy, thought you said your boy had a shift today,” an amused voice said. They broke apart to face the interrupter, Evan slipping his hand into Tommy’s back pocket. Tommy would kiss him again, just for that.
“Yeah, cause I didn’t want you to interrogate him,” Tommy shot back. “I thought you were staying in tonight?” he directed that to Evan.
“Um, Ravi wanted to go out for a bit, and you know what he’s like with a few shots in him,” Evan laughed nervously. “Babysitting duty, really. I thought you were going to the bar near your place?”
“Health inspector shut it down,” the interloper said.
“Tommy, I keep telling you that place is disgusting,” Evan smacked his chest. “That carpet would go up in flames if you looked at it wrong. Who even has carpet in a bar these days?”
“Since Tommy’s not doing the introductions, Sal Deluca,” the other man said, holding his hand out to Evan.
“Buck,” Evan said, shaking his hand.
“And this is my wife, Gina,” Sal gestured to the woman beside him.
“Hi, Buck,” Evan said, smiling his most charming meet the parents smile for her.
“Buck, nice to meet you,” Gina said. “Tommy’s been hiding you.”
“I know,” Evan agreed, using the hand still in Tommy’s back pocket to pinch him. Tommy hoped his reaction wasn’t noticeable.
“Why don’t we grab a table, and you two can grab the drinks?” Gina suggested. “Buck, I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” She winked at Tommy.
“Sounds good,” Tommy agreed. He and Evan waited until Gina and Sal were out of earshot to talk.
“Tommy, what the actual fuck,” Evan hissed. “You never introduced me to your friends and now you didn’t tell them you broke up with me?”
“Sorry, I just—” Tommy shrugged helplessly. “Sal’s seen you on scenes before. I couldn’t not come over. I can tell them you had to take Ravi home, you can duck out, it’s fine.”
“Okay, that was clearly a lie,” Evan rolled his eyes. “And what, I’m going to leave and look like the worst boyfriend ever? Absolutely not. We’ll tell them Ravi’s friend picked him up.”
Tommy had gotten himself into this mess, and Evan was going to make sure it lasted all night. That only seemed fair, really.
“What are you drinking?”
Tommy had forgotten how handsy a couple of drinks could make Evan. He could tell from Gina’s expression how red his own face as as Evan draped himself nearly across Tommy to ask Sal a question about some story Hen had told him.
Good job, Gina mouthed, giving him a thumbs up. He returned it weakly and checked his watch surreptitiously. Another hour and he could get himself and Evan out of there without too many questions.
Forty minutes later and Tommy was calling it. Evan had tried to stand up and had nearly fallen back into Tommy’s lap.
“Okay, I better get this one home,” Tommy said, wrapping an arm around Evan’s waist. “See you two later.”
“Bye Buck!” Gina waved cheerfully. “Come to trivia with us next time!”
“See you around Buckley,” Sal said, waving to Tommy as he left.
“Hmm, too bad they like me,” Evan giggled as they waited outside for an uber. “Now you’re gonna have to tell them they broke up with you — you broke up with me,” he corrected himself. “I’d kill at trivia too. Ooooh wellll, guess your team will just have to lose.”
“How are you so cute and so irrititating when you’re drunk?” Tommy asked, voice fond.
“I’m just too much for everyone,” Evan said, sounding like he was parroting someone. He patted Tommy’s cheek awkwardly. “Bet you’re glad you got rid of me.”
Tommy’s heart broke for him. “Hey, here’s our ride.”
“You can take a different one, you don’t have to take me home,” Evan argued as Tommy got him in the car.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Tommy folded himself into the backseat with Buck. There needed to be a way to order a car for people with long legs, he mused to himself as his knees knocked up against the passenger seat.
“Okay,” Tommy grunted, fishing Evan’s key out of his pocket and opening the loft door. “Let’s get you inside.”
“Oh goodie, I can go home to my empty fucking apartment,” Evan grumbled. At some point on the ride over, he’d gone from mostly happy drunk to bitchy sad drunk. “And you can leave me here, again. Woohoo.”
“Let’s just focus on the stairs first,” Tommy suggested.
“Maybe I’ll fall and break my leg,” Evan suggested morosely. “Getting hurt made Ali run away but maybe it would make you stay. You didn’t care about the boils.”
“Okay,” Tommy decided, bending down and scooping Evan up, “no broken legs for you. You’d hate being off the job that long.”
“Did it once before,” Evan said into his shoulder.
He focused on the steps and ignored what Evan was mumbling into his shoulder, not wanting to drop him or worse, fall. He deposited Evan gently on the bed, but before he could get his pajamas, Evan had curled up with his back to Tommy. Tommy sighed and got one of the extra blankets from the closet, knowing Evan would be cold if he didn’t wake up under the covers. Evan didn’t move, even as Tommy headed back down the stairs.
“Everyone leaves, you know,” Tommy heard Evan say. “Everyone leaves but me. I could have — I would have been your last. If you wanted me.” Tommy paused at the bottom of the stairs, but Evan didn’t say anything else. He sighed again, looking at Evan’s stupid couch.
Buck woke up with a hangover unlike anything he’d experienced since he’d joined the fire academy. It felt like someone had taken a Halligan to his head. His eyes were simultaneously on fire and glued shut. His mouth tasted like a dirty sock. Holy shit, his fingernails ached. He groaned and slapped the bed beside him looking for his phone. Cooking was out of the question, delivery was going to have to do.
Someone placed his phone in his hand.
“The fuck?” Buck said, poking out of his blanket and forcing his eyes open to see who the hell was in his apartment. Obviously they weren’t there to rob him, or they wouldn’t be handing him his phone but — oh. Oh, this was so much worse than being robbed. He pulled the blanket back over his head and hoped it was a hangover hallucination. Nothing else would explain Tommy being there, looking fresh as a fucking daisy, while Buck was a hungover slob who hadn’t even made it under the covers.
Tommy cleared his throat. “I have the heavy duty stuff if you want it.”
Buck stuck his hand back out of the blanket, unwilling to continue suffering. Tommy handed him two pills, and he pulled his hand back into the nest and swallowed them dry. He’d regret the aftertaste, but not as much as anything else going on right now.
“You should be taking that with food, think you can eat some toast?”
“You made me toast?” Buck asked incredulously. He pushed the blanket down again. Tommy handed him a plate, and Buck ate the toast laying down, not caring about crumbs and almost hoping this time he would actually choke to death on a piece of bread.
“Go back to sleep,” Tommy said when Buck was finished. “I’ll make real food when you wake up again.”
Well, at least he was a helpful hallucination. Buck did as he was told.
“Are you actually here?”
Tommy turned away from the coffee maker to see Evan at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes and looking confused. Tommy looked down at himself and back up at Evan. “Yes?”
“Huh. I thought you were a hallucination,” Evan said. “Is that coffee?”
“Yes.”
Evan took a step forward and his nose wrinkled adorably. “Uh, I’m going to change and then I’ll come down.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Tommy told him. He watched as Evan stumbled, then righted himself.
When Evan came downstairs — he’d stopped for a shower too, Tommy had heard the water — Tommy had bacon going on the stove, hash browns and sausages warming in Evan’s oven, and he was just cracking eggs into a frying pan.
“Scrambled?” Tommy checked, pretty sure Evan’s breakfast preference wouldn’t have changed that much.
“Yeah,” Evan said slowly. Tommy heard the scrape of the chair against the tile as Evan sat down at the kitchen island.
“I thought after breakfast we could talk,” Tommy said.
“Uh. Sure?”
Tommy made sure everything on the stovetop was okay for a moment, and made Evan another cup of coffee. Evan was watching him, his expression curious.
“Did you sleep on the couch?” Evan asked suddenly.
“Yep.” Tommy turned back to the stove so he wouldn’t have to look at Evan. “I didn’t want to leave you alone last night.”
“Yeah, choking to death in my sleep would be so much more embarrassing than my ex staying over and making me breakfast because I’m a pathetic drunk.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Tommy said.
“Which part?” Evan’s tone was dry, almost as dry as Tommy’s.
Tommy chose not to respond, watching the stove carefully and pulling out a couple of plates in preparation of dishing up.
Evan poked at the plate Tommy gave him, nibbling on the bacon and taking a few small bites of the scrambled eggs. “What did you do to the eggs? They taste different.”
“Oh, I added some of the bacon grease while they were cooking,” Tommy said. “It’s good for hangovers.”
“Huh.” Evan took another bite.
They didn’t talk again until they were done with breakfast — Evan had only finished about half of it, but Tommy still considered that a success, considering the state he’d been in the first time he’d woken up.
“So, talk,” Evan said, looking at Tommy.
“I don’t know how much you remember about last night,” Tommy started. Evan’s immediate blush told him it was quite a lot, if not all of it.
“Sorry about pinching you,” Evan said.
“It was deserved,” Tommy waved it away. “I put you in a bad situation.”
“I mean, it wasn’t that bad,” Evan said with a slight hint of a grin.
Tommy couldn’t help returning a smile before getting back to his original line of questioning. “You also said a lot of things I hadn’t heard before.”
Evan flushed and looked down at the table. “Well, it was only six months,” he said. “Didn’t want to dump all of that on you so soon.”
“Six months is a pretty long time,” Tommy said gently.
Evan scoffed. “Because I learned so much about you in return? Please. We didn’t spend much time talking, you know that.”
“I thought that was what you wanted.”
“Oh, of course Chim told you about Buck 1.0,” Evan’s voice had a tinge of anger to it. “That was a long time ago.”
“Buck 1.0?” Tommy looked at him in confusion. “I have no idea what that means.”
“Well if it wasn’t because of my sex addict self diagnosis, what was it?” Evan demanded. “What made you think I didn’t want anything real?”
“Because it was your first queer relationship?” Tommy said, eyebrow raised. “Most people are just trying to catch up on what they’ve been missing.”
“Well I’m not most people,” Evan snapped. “I wasn’t treating you like — like some kind of experiment!”
“Evan,” Tommy couldn’t stop the bitchy tone from slipping into his voice. “We never went out. We didn’t interact with your friends or family unless it was a work event. You didn’t meet my best friend.”
“Well sorry that I didn’t want everyone butting into our relationship,” Evan burst out. “Maybe it had nothing to do with us and everything to do with them. Maybe I’m just actually kind of a homebody. You could have asked, instead of breaking up with me. And it’s not like you ever asked me to meet Sal!”
“You wanted me to move in with you.”
“Yeah, because I love you!”
“You rent a loft with no walls! I own my house! That has walls! And a garage!”
“I didn’t care where we lived, I just wanted to live together!”
They looked at each other, cheeks red, realizing how much their voices were raised in the quiet of the loft.
“Wait, did you say love? Not loved?” Tommy asked.
Evan pushed his chair away from the island and stood up. “Sure, yeah, now you notice. Whatever, I’m going back to bed.”
He stomped up the stairs to the loft. Tommy sighed, standing up to clear the table and do the dishes.
Buck could hear Tommy tidying up downstairs as he lay in bed with his comforter and blanket on top of him. He pulled them both up over his head, muffling the sound. He wiped angrily at the tears that rolled down his cheeks, trying to get comfortable. The breakfast Tommy had made for him churned uncomfortably in his stomach.
Evan came back downstairs a few hours later. Tommy had found an old basketball game on tv and was watching it with the sound off, his blanket from the night before now neatly folded on the back of the couch.
Evan grabbed two waters from the kitchen, handing him one and taking a seat on the armchair. Tommy was transported back to the night he’d brought Evan home from the hospital after he’d dislocated his shoulder; the silence had been more comfortable then, the feelings more sure, but it was more similar than he’d expected.
“How come you’re still here?” Evan asked, voice small. He’d pulled his knees up so his feet were resting on the edge of the seat cushion, and he looked impossibly small.
Tommy turned the tv off. “Did you mean it, when you said you would have been my last if I’d wanted you?”
“What does it matter now?”
“Evan, it was never that I didn’t want you. I just didn’t think you’d want me for that long.”
“God, I wish people would stop making my decisions for me,” Evan sighed. “I do, shockingly, know what I want. And even if we did end up breaking up in the future, would it really be so bad? Wouldn’t that time together be worth it?”
“It would be,” Tommy said. “You’re right.”
“So what now?” Evan asked. “Hearts bared, talks had, what does it change?”
“Actually,” Tommy said, “there is one more thing I need to say to you. Evan Buckley, I love you too.”
“Wow, full name and everything,” Evan said. “And is this the part where you leave again?”
“Only if you want me to,” Tommy said. “But if you love me, and I love you — well, a wise man once said, why be apart when we can be together?”
“You can’t use my own words against me,” Evan complained, a smile belying his words.
“They’re good words,” Tommy said.
Evan uncurled himself from the chair, coming over to sit next to Tommy on the couch. “So we just… pick up where we left off?”
“I think we can do better than that this time,” Tommy said. “Talk more. Maybe go on a double date with one of our friends.”
“Hen’ll probably read you the riot act,” Evan warned him.
“I’d deserve it.” Tommy lifted his arm from the back of the couch so Evan could burrow under it. “Maybe I can take you out tomorrow, once you’ve recovered?”
“Maybe we could stay in, just this weekend?” Evan countered. “I don’t think I’m going to recover that quickly.”
“Wow, really?”
“My fingernails hurt,” Evan whined. Tommy picked up one of his hands and started massaging it, the motion pulling Evan closer as Tommy’s arms wrapped around him. “Oh, that’s better.”
“We can stay in this weekend,” Tommy said. “But I will need to go home for clothes at some point.”
“Or I could bring my clothes to your place,” Evan suggested. “We never really… spent a lot of time at your place.”
“Okay,” Tommy agreed easily, oddly charmed at the thought of Evan in his house, even a sleepy, hungover Evan.
