eternal indie kid

Buck's shoulders slide up toward his ears, presenting a smaller target. He looks around frantically for broad shoulders or a crinkly-eyed smile or a familiar steadfast aura, but he doesn't see Tommy anywhere on site. He does see Nico, who's by far one of the nicest and weirdest people he's ever met. The last time Buck saw him, he was holding two grapefruits in his hands and offered Buck one. He then asked Buck about his thoughts on axolotls while he ate the grapefruit like an apple.

When Nico spots him, he doesn't so much as crack a smile. Instead, he ducks his head and turns his back. Buck would be lying if he said that didn't make him feel like he'd just been tased. Again.

"Uh, give me a second," Buck says to the gang, then breaks away and heads in Nico's direction. Maybe if he strikes up a conversation then Nico might warm back up to him again. 

But halfway there, a polar bear steps into his path. Said polar bear is 5'2" with her hair rolled and pinned back and held with an honest-to-goodness snood. She's also holding a cigarette daintily between two polished fingers. 

Calling Dana a polar bear is unfair. She's much scarier, and probably deadlier. 

"Can I help you." It's not phrased as a question, but Buck gets the feeling that the only acceptable answer is no.

"Uh, h-hey, Dana," he says, awkwardly lifting a hand. Despite the huge discrepancy in their sizes, he feels about two inches tall under her blank stare. "It's good to see you. It's been, uh, a while."

She says nothing. The cigarette between her fingers crackles softly as it smolders. 

"I-I was wondering if Tommy was around here somewhere," he pushes on, even as he hopes and prays for the earth to open up under his feet and swallow him whole. "I didn't see him but… I need to talk to him. I-Is he here?"

Dana has the odd ability to maintain eye contact with anyone who she comes across. She doesn't blink when she does it. Her expression never changes. It's awful. Buck only spoke with her a couple of times during his relationship with Tommy and he felt like a prey animal every time. According to Tommy, she once had a staring contest on a call with a suspected arsonist that ended with the guy bursting into tears and confessing to every one of his crimes. The whole thing apparently took three minutes.

After a few skin-crawlingly long seconds, her gaze hardens—although Buck can't quite explain how, because her eyes don't narrow and her perfectly-shaped brows don't so much as twitch. 

Tilting her chin ever so slightly to the left, she holds Buck's gaze as she addresses the rest of her team. "Did you hear that? Evan Buckley wants to know where Tommy is."

Her voice is as mild as a still lake on a spring afternoon, but there's a shadow swimming beneath the surface when she says his name. In response, the Harbor team erupts in whispers and quiet jeers. 

This isn't the first time in his life that Buck's been surrounded by people who are visibly angry and disappointed in him, but it certainly ranks as one of the most humiliating. 

Dana still has Buck's gaze in a death grip as she brings her cigarette to her crimson lips and takes a gentle drag. As she slowly breathes out the smoke through her nose, she smiles. His heart pounds in terror.

"You have a lot of nerve asking about Tommy," she says softly. "Especially after being a no-show at his hearing."

The world around him—the trainees talking and laughing and making bets about which house will win, the instructors going over the itinerary with the fire captains, the 118 and the 217 baring their teeth at each other—falls as silent as it did when he'd been pulled under the Pacific. 

"Hearing? W-What hearing? I don't know about a hearing, seriously."

"If I hadn't forced him to call you and leave a voicemail asking if you'd be a character witness, I might almost believe you just now," Dana murmurs deafeningly.

It takes a few tries to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "I never… I never got a call, Dana, I swear. Not a call or a voicemail. W-What happened? Why would they—" 

Stupid questions. He knows exactly why they would do it. Bobby's death was devastating, but it somehow shielded the 118 from any repercussions from the lab incident. But there had been more than just the 118 involved that day.

"Where's Tommy?" Buck drags in a shuddering breath. "W-Why isn't he here?"

Dana says nothing. She simply takes another drag of her cigarette.

"Did—did they fire him? Oh god, did they pull his license? Is Tommy still—can Tommy still fly?" Did Buck somehow manage to yank the sky out of Tommy's reach and leave him to deal with it alone?

Face wreathed in smoke as she breathes out, Dana smiles again, small and terrifying. "See you on the course."

Knees shaking, Buck watches her saunter away, the rest of the 217 falling into line behind her. One of them twists around to flip Buck off.

He gives himself a few moments to breathe through the panic, then trips on what feel like newborn colt legs on his way back to where his team is waiting. 

Ravi takes one look at him and asks, "You good?"

Buck ignores him and steps up to Chimney. "D-Did you know there was an investigation into Tommy's involvement. Because of the virus? That there was a hearing? D-Dana said he called me to see if I'd take the stand, but… Chim, I never got a call."

He watches confusion pick at Chimney's expression before realization comes out of nowhere and swallows it whole, leaving only guilt in its wake. "Shit. Uh, Buck, I'm—"

Chim glances at Eddie. Slowly, Buck turns to look in that direction. 

"Oh, shit. Shit," Eddie mutters. He looks at Buck and cringes. "Buck, I—I didn't think…"

"What did you do?" Buck whispers.

It's Hen who steps forward and places a hand on his arm. "It was… we thought it might be too much after Bobby… if either of you… Maddie thought—we all thought things might be a little easier for you if we, uh, blocked his number on your phone for a bit. Just until things blew over."

He stares at her, at all of them, utterly betrayed. Then he takes out his phone and goes into his settings. Sure enough, there's Tommy's number, sitting on his Blocked list with about two hundred spam numbers. "H-How did you even—"

After a moment of charged silence, Eddie grimaces. Oh, of course. Eddie knows his passcode. Buck would never have given it a second thought to hand his phone over if Eddie needed it for something.

"We must have… forgot to unblock it," Hen finishes quietly, squeezing her eyes shut. "Once things got better. Oh god."

"That… is an insane invasion of privacy," Ravi says slowly. He stares at Chimney with wide, incredulous eyes. "That is a serious violation, Captain."

Chimney looks at the ground. "I—we just wanted to do what was best for Buck."

"Did you even ask Buck what was best for Buck, or did you make a unilateral decision the way you people always do," Ravi demands.

The group devolves into a battle of accusations and Chim trying to pull rank and Eddie getting riled up and shoving a finger at Ravi, and Buck stands there amid it all and wishes he were anywhere but there.

Eventually, one of the academy instructors goes over and tells them things are going to start in fifteen minutes, so they had to report to the main area in five for instructions for the first match.

Ravi takes Buck by the shoulder and leads him away after the instructor, leaving the rest of the 118 to guiltily follow. Eddie tries to talk to Buck, to explain, to defend the decision, but Buck can't be bothered to hear him out. Ravi and a couple of their other team members, the ones outside who are perpetually outside the inner circle, turn themselves into a barrier, keeping Buck away from them.

Right before things start, Chim stands in front of them and says. "Look, we're the 118, and we're undefeated. Let's show them who we are. We can… deal with everything else once it's over."

Buck stares at Chim in disbelief for a long time, then turns his head to face forward as the MC of the competition begins explaining the rules of the first match.

To no one's surprise, the 118 bombs every single one. The cooperation and coordination for which they're known is nowhere to be found. They either try too hard or not hard enough. Buck's focus is a distant memory. He's usually so good at the glove and screw drill, but his hands are too shaky for the precise work needed to win. 

That, and the 217 absolutely bodies them.

(Harbor don't miss, how it's done done done!)

When the 217 is declared the winner at the end, no one from the 118 can even muster up the energy to shake anyone's hand. While the academy trainees cluster gleefully around the 217, Dana breaks away and glides over to them. Despite having set a record for the maze run, she doesn't have even a smear of soot on her. 

She takes in the bruised and defeated tableau they make, taking a moment to glance at Buck, and smiles just a very little.

"Better luck next year," she says mildly, then saunters after her team.

Inhaling, Chim turns to address the 118, no doubt to give a consolation speech that will be talked about for weeks, but Buck is already turning away. "Buck, c'mon."

"I'm banging out for the rest of the day. I'd say give me a call to sort it out, but who knows? Maybe I'll block your number about it. You know, just until things get better," Buck spits out, then heads for the exit, leaving everyone to stew in their shame. 

Except Ravi, who ditches them to go hang with the 217 and idly ask about any potential openings. 

Buck ends up taking an Uber straight to Tommy's house and he spends the entire ride trying to figure out what he's even going to say. How do you apologize to someone for not noticing that you've blocked their number for months? All it's going to do is crystalize the fact that Buck never reached out himself, never said thank you, never asked if Tommy might need something from him for a change. 

Luckily, Tommy's truck is in the driveway. Which means Tommy's home. Which means Buck needs to cowboy up and get out of this Hyundai Sonata and face the music. He slowly walks up the path, then spends a few minutes standing on the porch and thinking about those magical six months they had together. He used to daydream about this house and what it might look like a few years into the future, a few decades into the future. He spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about what they could plant in the flower beds that lined the house, and about how a glider would look on the porch and the cold mornings they could spend wrapped up together in a blanket with their wrinkled hands wrapped around mugs of cocoa. 

It seems impossible that there might be any sort of future for them now, especially when Buck's responsible for taking away everything that Tommy loves, but he won't be able to make peace with that until he can at least apologize. He owes Tommy that much. 

Steeling his shoulders, Buck knocks on the door three times, then clasps his hands together behind his back to keep them from shaking. After a minute, he sees a silhouette moving in the vision panel before the door opens.

The Tommy that sticks his head out is not a Tommy that Buck recognizes: there are suitcases under his eyes, and his hair messier than it was the day he showed up at the hospital for Chim and Maddie's wedding after having battled a fire for 13 hours. His face is handsome as ever, but it's flushed with what has to be fever. There are pillow lines marking his skin, like he'd been sleeping hard when Buck knocked. 

Pulling the flannel blanket he's got around his shoulders in a little tighter, Tommy squints at him.

"You're not my sweet and sour soup," Tommy rasps. 

I could be, Buck almost says. Instead, he states the obvious: "Y-You're sick."

"I also have the flu," Tommy agrees, trying to muster up a grin for the joke but apparently too weak to manage it. "Shouldn't you be at the academy?"

Buck stares at him. "Y-You know about that?"

"I was really looking forward to it, but." Tommy shrugs his shoulders. "'s what I get for putting off my flu shot. Sucks. I was gonna dominate the obstacle course."

Buck opens his mouth to ask why he'd be allowed to attend, because only employed firefighters can be part of it, but then he thinks about standing in front of Dana and asking what they'd taken from Tommy when the decision was handed down at the hearing.

She never actually answered. Because Tommy clearly was able to keep both his license and his job. She just let Buck come to his own conclusions and then used his confusion, horror, and guilt to her advantage. The 118 never stood a chance.

Diabolical, he thinks in reluctant awe.

"Sorry," Tommy says, breaking through Buck's thoughts with a voice made entirely out of bits of glass and lava rock. He's listing against the doorframe like it's the only thing holding him up. "I'm glad to see you, Evan, really, but I—I think I need to be horizontal."

Once upon a time, that sort of remark would've turned Buck into a quivering, half-feral monster. But now it spurs him into action, stepping up and getting an arm around Tommy, helping to take his weight. 

"You shouldn't be up, Tommy," Buck murmurs. "You've got the flu. You're supposed to be resting."

"You're supposed to be soup," Tommy says with a slight whine. 

Swallowing a laugh but not able to get the grin down too, Buck holds him a little tighter and helps him back inside. 

In this moment, he can't deal with the very real shit his friends—his family—pulled that almost kept him from this man once again, but he can change bedsheets and dole out ibuprofen and wait for the soup delivery. Or see what's in Tommy's fridge and make an even better soup. Something warm and filling and healing.

And Tommy probably white-knuckled his way through everyone else's turns, listening to Buck moaning and crying for people who aren't him, hanging at the back of the room, catching glimpses through the crowd of Buck's body rocking with every thrust and his mouth wrapped around a dozen other cocks, and then Nwole looked back after everyone else had gone like "the hell are you waiting for?" And the crowd had parted a bit, so Tommy had a perfect view of Buck lying there, panting and cock-drunk, fingers curling around empty air, his legs splayed—left wanting. And Tommy has never been able to deny Buck anything he wants.

re: post-reconciliation

I think they revisit the gangbang thing maybe a few years after getting back together. They're in a really good place and Tommy brings it up when they're watching gangbang porn and idly jerking each other off on the couch, and Buck's like "I'm completely 100% happy and satisfied with what we have, I don't need anyone else" and Tommy's like "I never said 'need', I said 'want', and what if we planned it together" which summons Clipboard!Buck from the depths of hell. They spend weeks figuring out logistics: where, when, who, what... they invite Nwole, Kyle, Kyle's husband, and Spencer (although Spencer can't make it because he's accepting an award that night), and a few others.

The night Buck Bang Bonanza 2™ ("I'm not calling it that," Tommy says) happens, Buck is laid out and blindfolded like he'd been the first time, except this time he's lying with his back to Tommy's chest, his head on Tommy's shoulder. That had been a joint decision: Buck was going to be on offer, but Tommy would be the one offering him up—part of the action the entire time by directing people, giving suggestions, doling out warnings as needed, etc. (In a parallel universe, Tommy's inside him the entire time because it's actually Buck Bang Bonanza: The DP-ening).

It's a rousing success and everyone has a blast. And since I'm imagining this took place in their living room in order for both Buck and Tommy to feel comfortable by being on home turf, they host an afterparty cookout where everyone gets to know each other and hang out. Nwole ends up meeting Pedro, an internal compliance officer, and they spend the entire party arguing about high-conviction trades and how they can't stand each other's profession. After they've been dating for five months, Nwole calls Tommy to blame him for the fact that he's so happy.