screamlet

2. Ravi did not invite Eddie. Buck showed up to the park, compressor sleeve on his bad leg, and saw a tiny woman struggling to pull a giant cooler out of the back of her Subaru. Buck ran to help at the same time as another man hurried over, and they both managed to catch the cooler before it slipped and crushed the poor woman. The guy was masked, but his eyes were so blue and, judging by the way the corners creased, he must have had a hell of a smile.

“Nice catch,” the guy said as they navigated the cooler to safety. His voice was higher pitched than Buck was expecting for a guy that size, but it was, and there was no other word for it, melodious.

“You must be the Ravi’s weird coworkers,” she said. “Grab that and follow me.”

The guy’s eyebrows raised, but he obligingly picked up one end of the cooler and Buck took the other, and they followed the woman, who was named Skye and the co-founder of her college’s frisbee gold club. That was how she knew Ravi; they were old friends.

“Ravi, I found your weird work friends,” she called as they joined Ravi and the rest of the group at the course they were setting up.

“Most people are impressed by us being firefighters,” the guy said mildly.

Skye snorted. “Tell you what, kid, save a cat from a tree and I will personally throw you a parade.”

“It’s been a long time since I was called kid,” the guy mused, and Buck was treated to those laugh lines again. They were so deep; this guy must smile a lot. “I’m Tommy.”

“Buck. Buckley. I mean, Evan,” Buck said because apparently he lost control of his mouth. God, he wished he could see that smile. “Evan Buckley.”

“Good to meet you, Evan,” Tommy said.

“Glad you made it,” Ravi said. “We’re about to break into teams. Full warning, Skye gets physical.”

“Yeah, I do,” said Skye, and high fived another woman.

“I didn’t think this was a contact sport,” Buck said, who had spent last night reading the frisbee golf Wikipedia article and watching a couple of video of people trying to toss little discs into various baskets.

“Not the way we play it,” said Skye with a wolfish smile. “Are you ready?”

3. Buck was not, in fact, ready. The third time Skye laid him out, Buck just stayed and contemplated his mortality.

“Still alive down there?” Tommy asked, hands braced on his knees as he leaned over Buck.

“Unfortunately,” Buck said. “Do you think if I play dead they’ll forget I’m here?”

Tommy glanced at where a scrimmage was taking place further down the course. “I think it’s wrapping up. I heard a rumor that cooler we carried was full of snacks. Come on.”

Tommy offered a hand, and Buck was effortlessly pulled to his feet. “Oh,” he said, breathless. “I’m, uh, not used to people being able to lift me.”

“Benefits of being a big, strong firefighter,” Tommy said with those gorgeous laugh lines.

“Yeah, strong,” Buck agreed over the mad scramble happening at the last basket. It was either luck or skill that kept anyone from losing a mask. “This is not regulation play.”

“Yeah, it’s very Calvinball.” Tommy slid him a sly look. “I bet we can raid the cooler while they’re distracted.”

Buck was too old to get caught in the violent tangle of limbs that was happening. “Let’s do it.”

4. An incomplete list of things Buck learned about Tommy as they waited for the frisbee golf game to end:

Tommy was not just a firefighter but a firefighter pilot, which was one of the coolest jobs it was possible to have. (“That’s gotta be like having a super power,” he said way too earnest to be cool, but Tommy just smiled so wide that his nose scrunched and said, “A little bit, yeah.)

Tommy was Harbor’s sacrificial goat who got sent to the academy as a guest instructor (“I lost the final round of rock, paper, scissors,” he said in that dry tone that Buck suspected he used when he wanted to hide the truth as a joke.)

Tommy used to be at the 118 and had the best stories from Chim and Hen’s probie years (Tommy called him Howie, which was weirdly endearing)

Tommy learned to fly in the army (“The PTSD was almost worth it.”)

Tommy knew Muay Thai but had not joined an underground fight club because he was only slightly more well adjusted than Eddie

Tommy had the most beautiful smile Buck had ever seen

“So this is adorable,” Skye said, gesturing between them, “but if you don’t stop bogarting the snacks, I will take you both down.”

Tommy stepped aside and made a dorky little half-bow so Skye could get into the cooler. Apparently everyone contributed to the snack fund but Skye was the one who actually went out and bought everything because she had black market hook ups for the good chips and dip.

Once everyone had raided the cooler and they had all spaced out six feet so they could take off their masks to eat and drink, Ravi raised his can of flavored seltzer and said, “And now it’s time for the traditional poetry reading. Kay has chosen this week’s selection.

Kay, who had an undercut and a septum piercing, said, “You know I had to go with my girl Mary Oliver. You know it, you love it, it’s Wild Geese!”

Everyone cheered, and Buck found himself exchanging a bewildered look with Tommy and Tommy’s politely baffled eyebrows.

From their back pocket, Kay pulled out a phone and began to read. It was a short poem, but it filled him with a sweet ache, like the relief he felt when a wound had been sutured closed. Tommy’s face had softened with each line, and by the end he looked just like how Buck felt, like pain had given way to ease. And then it was over, and Buck wished he’d though to fix his mask back into place so he could have stood shoulder to shoulder with Tommy as they experienced the poem together.

“So,” Ravi said once they were once again masked up and reformed into a loose circle, “what did you think?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be tackled so much,” Tommy said dryly, smile once more hidden away, “but it was fun.”

“Yeah, fun,” Buck said. “Hey, what’s up with the poetry?”

What was up with the poetry was that Ravi’s college roommate was an extremely shy kid named Joshua who Ravi managed to, in the words of Skye, cajole into joining their frisbee golf club using sweet words and a muffin. Joshua hated frisbee golf, but he liked poetry and old books, and so would sit on the sidelines reading to them between plays. And soon everyone had their favorite poets and poems and started bringing them to share with Joshua until it became a tradition after every game for one member to read a new poem they found.

“He had to move back home when his dad got sick,” said Chad, who looked exactly like one of Buck’s roommates from back in the day who would howl without fail at three am every day but was in fact pursuing a masters in gender studies. “But we kept up the tradition, and we either facetime with him or send him the poem.”

“Oh, that’s really cool,” Buck said, who never had the kinds of friends who would do that. He didn’t even keep in touch with Connor, who he’d followed to LA like a lost puppy.

“It is,” said Beth, who was only slightly less violent than Skye, which was good since she was close to him and Tommy in height, “until Skye breaks up with her girlfriend of two years and does nothing but read Richard Siken poems for two straight months.”

Tommy winced, and Sky pointed an accusing finger at him and said, “I knew it! I knew you were one of us!”

Tommy’s eyebrows rose in a way that Buck could only describe as bitchy. “Kid, I was in the army under Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. You’re one of me.”

“Wait, what does Don’t Ask Don’t Tell have to do with poetry?” Buck said two seconds before his brain caught up. “Oh, you’re—”

“Gay,” Tommy said, and now those bitchy eyebrows were trained fully on him.

“That’s cool! I mean, I’m an ally.” From outside his body, Buck watched as his raised his fist in the air in encouragement and wanted to die. But instead of death, he opened his mouth and said, “I put up a rainbow on my Instagram profile every June.”

Into the terrible silence that followed, Skye said, “So do you have a reminder about a flag programmed into your phone?”

“No,” he said quickly.

“Oh, he definitely does,” Chad said. “That’s adorable. Ravi, thank you for inviting him. He’s going into my thesis.”

Tommy leaned in close and said, “I think that means he likes you,” which almost made the mortification worth it.

Thank god a bunch of moms chased them to clean up and clear out so that their kids could kick around a soccer ball. He and Tommy carried the cooler back to Skye’s Subaru.

“You need to contribute to the snack fund,” Sky said, holding out a hand. “I only accept cash.”

Who carried cash anymore? Tommy apparently, and he handed over two crisp twenties. “You can get it next time,” he said, and gently knocked his knuckles into Buck’s shoulder.

“I’m adding you to the group chat,” Ravi said, and Buck was officially part of frisbee golf.

6. By the third meet up, Buck had given up on understanding the ever shifting rules and instead spent most of his time on the fringes talking to Tommy. They had started getting take out after the game and eating on Tommy’s back patio and then, because they were both fully vaccinated and careful, moving inside to watch the movies Tommy insisted he had to see.

“Do you miss going out to the movies?” Buck asked one day, perusing the two bookcases dedicated to DVDs and CDs.

“I don’t miss strangers breathing on me in the dark for two hours,” Tommy said dryly, “but, yeah, I miss it.”

“We should go when it’s safe.” Buck brushed his knuckles along Tommy’s shoulder. “I’ll buy you Twizzlers.”

The first time Tommy came to the loft, Buck was mortifingly aware of how empty it was, especially compared to Tommy’s carefully curated house. He didn’t have a single shelf of movies or even books. The only personal touch was the bike hanging on the wall, and it had been years since he’d been cycling. Thank god Albert never cleaned up against himself; his mess was the only sign of life in the entire place.

“I get the appeal now,” Tommy said, gesturing to the two balconies. “That’s almost gotta be worth what you’re getting gouged on rent.”

“Spent a lot of nights out here when I can’t sleep,” he said, and they ate lunch out on the balcony and listened to the city.

But mostly they snuck away when Buck’s leg and Tommy’s knee started acting up after too many tackles. They were deep in a discussion of which weird 80s fantasy movie to see next—Tommy was adamant that Buck needed to experience Tim Curry as the shirtless devil, and Buck wanted to see Labrinyth since he had remembered seeing that with Maddie and loving all the pupped—when Skye said, “This is why we don’t let you be on the same team.” She had evidently clawed her way free from a pile up that, as first responders, he and Tommy should really break up. “At least we’re both equally down a player.”

Tommy pointed to Buck’s leg and then his own knee. “There’s no way our old man joints would survive that.”

“Aren’t you firefighters?” she asked.

“I’ve seen the elbows you throw in there,” Tommy said. “Our job is less dangerous.”

“Ha!” Skye said, and then immediately proved Tommy’s point by trying to take down Ravi.

Chad gestured between them. “Whatever is happening between you two is adorable, and I want an invite to the wedding.”

Where Buck had been expecting Tommy’s to do their bitchy thing, Tommy’s expression instead smoothed out so quickly and completely that it felt like a flinch, like Chad had inadvertently pressed on a tender bruise.

“I don’t think he was trying to be an asshole,” Buck said once Chad had been dragged back into the pile.

“It’s fine,” Tommy said in a tone that meant it was absolutely not fine. “I forget sometimes that’s an option for me. It wasn’t for a long time.”

Buck thought of Abby and Ali and the dating apps he hadn’t opened in months, and said, “Yeah, I get that.” He touched the back of Tommy’s hand. “Want to raid the cooler while they’re distracted?”

They had snacks and made an effort to talk to people who weren’t each other, and then it was time for the ceremonial poetry reading.

Tommy stepped forward and carefully pulled out a piece of paper that had gone soft along the creases, like Tommy had folded it and unfolded it many times. Tommy cleared his throat and, a little shy, said, “This is called the undone cowboy writes to his sweetheart.”

And Tommy began to read.

7. These were the poems Buck had heard since joining the group: an ee cummings poem he remembered reading in high school; Frank O’Hara writing about New York; Sky choosing a poem about Jesus in a gay bar that had made him and Tommy tear up; a poem about the women in Stop & Shop.

He had liked all of them, but none of them had been read in Tommy’s soft, careful voice, and none of them had felt like they were spreading his ribs apart to let in the sun. God, he thought as Tommy read the last line, god just take my heart in your palm.

“I knew you were one of us,” Skye said, and tapped friendly knuckles to his shoulder.

8. The shift had been quiet enough that Buck was able to sneak away and grab the good bunk in the corner with the mattress that didn’t sag and replayed the poem in his head: could you lasso my legs, darling, and press me tender to hay bale?

Buck had spent the better part of a year working on a ranch. Hay was a lot less romantic and a lot more irritating than people thought. It pricked and itched, even through a carefully laid blanket, and Buck had no desire to have it anywhere near his dick and balls again.

And yet he placed his palm against his sternum and thought of leaning against a bale. The hay would try to scratch through his clothes but he wouldn’t notice it, not with how close Tommy would be standing. They were the same height and near the same size, although Tommy had more breadth across the shoulders and carried more muscle. Tommy was immovable when he wanted to be, and Buck had felt the heat of him when they collided on the field.

He pressed down on his own breastbone. It wouldn’t be hard for Tommy to move him. It’d be so easy; Buck would go without a fight. God, he would have to spread his legs so wide to let Tommy get in close, and Tommy would kiss as sweetly as he read the poem.

“Oh,” Buck said, ribs cracked open and his sternum filled with sunlight, “I’m one of them.”

8. Buck was a firefighter and there was a time for evaluation and there was a time for action, and so he showed up to Tommy’s house and said, “Are you the undone cowboy? Can I be your sweetheart? I, uh, also brought lunch. Hi.”

“Hi,” Tommy said, and he was laughing but not at Buck. “You want to come in, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Buck said.

9. Tommy kissed sweeter than the poem.

Buck sliced him an apple.

10. “I’ve got a poem,” Buck said, fumbling his phone out of his pocket. It wasn’t his frisbee gold reading, but this one was important. He wanted to get it right. “It’s from our girl Mary Oliver.”

“Yo Mary Oliver!” Kay shouted.

"It's I Did Think, Let's Go About This Slowly." He cleared his throat and began to read, and on the line, the important one, he met Tommy’s eyes and said, unafraid and full of joy, “‘But, bless us, we didn't.”

Tommy’s smile was still the most beautiful think Buck had ever seen.

1. the first time they frot is a fucking revelation to buck. tommy's jerked him off and sucked his dick (and he's returned the favour) and that was great and all but it's nothing new, not really. what is new is tommy's hot, hard cock pressed up against his, the circle of tommy's fingers tight around them both, tommy's other hand thumbing over buck's nipple — "no, no, no," buck chants as come spills out his cock. tommy freezes, which only makes buck feel worse, and buck slumps. "i'm so sorry," buck groans, "that was so fast holy shit i'm so fucking embarrassed —" tommy interrupts, "what the fuck that was so hot. what? you're apologizing for me being too good at sex?" and buck snorts and wraps his hand around tommy's dick and, huh, using his come as lube to help jerk tommy off is really fucking hot.

2. tommy was sure evan would take a minute to work up to eating his ass. it felt like a big step the first time tommy did it to a man, but evan just snorts and says, "you think this'll be my first time rimming? tommy," with a bitchy little frown, and he gets tommy face down ass up in a blink. but he's not eating tommy out, no, tommy feels like he's being fucking devoured, like tommy is evan's first meal in days. evan gets a hand around tommy's cock and tommy hears the slick, fleshy sounds of evan jerking himself off, too, and in a handful of strokes tommy's coming, making a mess of evan's bedsheets. with a smug little laugh, evan shuffles up so he's kneeling behind tommy, cock pressed up against tommy's hole, jerking himself off until he's coming all over tommy's ass. evan's still catching his breath, having toppled over to lie next to tommy, when tommy apologizes. "sorry. i didn't think i could come that fast. i —" evan interrupts him to quote snidely, "'you're apologizing for me being too good at sex?'" and he kisses tommy until he forgets to feel embarrassed.

3. buck has never liked being tied down or using handcuffs. it makes him feel claustrophobic. he needs to be able to move. but tommy's teasing him, eyes sparkling where he looks up from sucking just the tip of buck's cock, when buck knows he can deepthroat like a porn star, buck thrusts his hips forward. no, he tries to thrust his hips forward, but tommy's hands on his hips keep him pinned down and buck knows he could break free but it would take effort and holy fuck "tommy, tommy, close, i'm so close —" tommy stops teasing buck and swallows him to the root, buck spilling come directly down his throat. tommy pulls off only once buck is a whining, oversensitive mess, and with a fucked out voice he says, "well at least i know how to get you off so fast there's no risk of me suffocating on your dick" and buck rolls his eyes with a choked little laugh.

4. tommy figures evan will test out calling him daddy after the whole "daddy issues" thing, sure. he knows that it'll be soon, even. he just didn't think that it would be right after dinner, but really he should know what to expect from evan by now. turning tommy's chair enough that he can fit on the floor between his legs, evan nuzzles into tommy's crotch before pulling out his quickly hardening dick. he licks up the length of it, swirls his tongue around the head while his hand strokes the rest, and then he pulls back to say, "can I have my desert now, daddy?" hand still working tommy over, tongue flicking out to lick his lips, eyes wide and wet, evan looks like a fucking dream, and tommy's cock is barely back in his mouth before, "fuck, baby —" tommy throws his head back as he comes so hard surely he's flooding evan's mouth with come. "think that's a new record, even for us," tommy eventually tells the ceiling, and he looks down in time to catch evan laugh.

5. they tumble into eddie's old bedroom. buck's current bedroom? and tommy freezes when he sees the mattress on the floor. "i, uh, just moved in?" buck offers. tommy shrugs and pulls his shirt over his head and okay, score, they're doing this. buck only almost cries a little when tommy is naked in front of him and he asks, "what do you want, baby?" and buck misses him so much it feels like there's a pit in his stomach even though tommy is right here, right in front of him, and he'd better enjoy what he can get while he can get it. "can we frot? wanna — wanna feel you." he chokes out, voice sounding wet and desperate and pathetic and tommy must hear it, has to know how much buck misses him.

but no, tommy just nods, drags buck over to the bed and sits down, his back against the wall, before he asks, "can you sit on my lap?" and buck scrambles to comply, both of them groaning when their cocks finally rub against each other. tommy wraps his hand around them, stroking a few times, murmuring little sounds of approval as buck thrusts up against him, and then he says, "my sweet boy, always so good for me" and the idea of being tommy's sweet boy again has buck coming, moaning out a broken "daddy", streaking come all over tommy's chest. tommy grunts, fucking up into his fist, against Buck's softening cock, a few more times before he follows, "i —" escaping before he mashes their lips together.