#bucktommy

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Buck's feeling like shit.

He wishes he could say that was new, but it's been a constant for quite a while now. Still sucks.

To his credit, he has been trying. Ever since telling Bobby, Maddie and Chim what was the reason behind his mood, Buck has been trying. Trying with PT, trying to have people over, trying not to let the bad thoughts take over his mind completely.

But it feels like trying to stay afloat when the current is too strong.

Today, the current is winning.

He half-assed his way through PT, and Maddie could tell. When she tried to talk to him about it, though, Buck snapped at her, saying he didn't need a babysitter and that she should just leave him alone. He could tell that had hurt his sister, and she hadn't lingered after dropping him off, choosing to give him space. Leave him alone like he'd asked.

It didn't make Buck feel any better.

Now he's feeling like shit and he's lonely. And miserable.

Sunny rests her head on his knee, whining softly, her chocolate-brown eyes looking up at him. Buck can't help but smile softly, running a hand through her fur. She's basically his guardian angel; he doesn't know what he'd do without her.

He sighs, resting his head against the couch, absentmindedly petting Sunny while the thoughts swirl in his head. He feels lonely, and his fingers are itching to text someone, but…

Buck's first thought is Maddie, but he's too ashamed after their spat. He knows he has to apologize, and he will, but… Not now. Not yet. He doesn't have the emotional bandwidth for it.

Then he thinks of Eddie. His best friend has been great ever since the accident, coming over and bringing Chris whenever he can sense that Buck needs some love from his favorite kid in the world. But… No.

No, deep down, Buck knows it's not Eddie he wants to text.

It's Tommy.

Buck misses Tommy so much it's ridiculous. He misses the café, too—Gina, the girls, the warmth of the place—but Tommy is the one who's constantly on his mind.

He misses their easy talk, and Tommy's scrunchy smile, and the way Tommy would always adjust his pace without comment when he walked Buck home. For that matter, Buck misses the way Tommy made those walks feel like just two friends hanging out, and not him taking care of Buck in any way.

He doesn't understand how a person can become so important in so little time, but the fact remains that Tommy's absence feels like a splinter under his skin.

It's been three days since Buck finally stopped ghosting Tommy, telling him things hadn't been too good for him lately. Tommy hasn't answered.

If he's honest, Buck knows he shouldn't have expected any differently. Tommy had every right to not answer him after being ignored for two weeks. But it still hurts.

Buck's fingers itch to send him another text, to apologize, to ask Tommy to please come over, but how can he? How can he explain to Tommy why he left without sounding completely unreasonable?

His phone buzzes by his side, and Buck's first instinct is to ignore it; it's probably Bobby asking about PT, and Buck doesn't feel like talking about that. But it buzzes again, a few times in a row, and Buck frowns; Bobby doesn't type that fast.

He reaches for his phone, and almost drops it when Tommy's name shows up on his screen. And then almost drops it again when he reads the text.

Hi Evan.

I'm downstairs.

I… I found out about your accident.

I promise I don't want to make things worse, I just… I want to talk to you.

Can I come up?

I'll understand if you say no.

Buck's stomach drops, his heart speeding up. Tommy knows. Fuck, Tommy knows. He can't tell if that's good or bad.

Why is he here anyway? Does he want to… What? Offer Buck his condolences for losing the job that gave his life purpose? Say he understands? Exchange firefighting stories?

What Buck fears the most, he knows, is Tommy seeing him differently. He can't take Tommy's pity.

But…

Tommy's absence in his life has been terrible. Nothing can be worse than that.

Besides, Buck has to think about Tommy too. After ghosting him like that when Tommy had been nothing but nice to him since the day they met, the least Buck owes him is an honest conversation.

hey…

ofc you can come up. apartment 13. there's an elevator.

you're right, we should talk.

It can't be more than one minute between Buck's last text and a shy knock on the door, but to him, it feels like an eternity. When he hears the knock, his heart feels like it forgot how to beat, and Buck needs a deep breath.

"Sunny, door", he says softly, but his dog hears it anyway, readily jogging towards the door.

Buck pushes himself to his feet using the sofa for support, keeping one hand on it for balance as he turns towards the door, completely unsure what to expect. Before he can brace himself either way, Sunny is already using the adapted handle to open the door, revealing an equally guarded Tommy on the other side.

Tommy frowns at first, looking at Buck so far from the door, but then he looks down and his face clears in understanding. Sunny gives a quiet bark of greeting before returning to her place by Buck's side, ready to help him should his balance falter.

For a second, they just stare at each other. Buck had forgotten just how handsome Tommy is (and he knows he keeps piling up evidence against his so called heterosexuality, but it's not the right moment to think about that), and he can't explain the feeling of… rightness. That he feels, seeing Tommy at the door of his apartment. As if he belongs there.

Buck wants him to belong there.

He can only hope he didn't screw it up before there was even a chance.

"Hey", he says, his voice faltering a tiny bit. "Come, um. Come in."

"Hey", Tommy says back, almost a whisper.

He comes in, closing the door behind himself and immediately burying his hands in his pockets. His posture is guarded, his shoulders almost reaching his ears in tension. Buck doesn't remember ever seeing him this nervous before.

"I, um. Sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting anyone", Buck says, because he doesn't really do silence and has to say something.

Tommy hand-waves it; honestly, it doesn't seem like he's paying attention to the apartment at all, his gaze fixated on Buck. He runs a hand over his face and bites his lip.

"It's fine. Can we, uh. Can we sit? I think this is a sitting down conversation"

"Yeah, I think you're right", Buck concedes, and sits down on the couch.

Tommy sits down on the armchair, resting his forearms on his thighs, absently rubbing his thumbs together. He looks at Buck with those intense blue eyes, and Buck is at a complete loss on what to say.

"So, um", Tommy starts, a frown between his eyebrows. "How have you been, Evan? You… You said things have been tough."

Buck is caught off-guard by that; he was half expecting Tommy to demand an explanation. He knows that should make him feel grateful, or at least relieved. Instead, an inexplicable flash of anger runs hot through him.

He doesn't want to be pitied. Or coddled to.

"It's been shit, Tommy", he says, looking away. "But you don't have to treat me with kid's gloves because I don't have a leg and have been moping about it"

"I'm not", Tommy says, his voice irritatingly leveled, and Buck scoffs. That anger still hasn't left his chest, and he can feel the heat rising up his chest and reaching his cheeks.

"The fuck you're not", he says. "Stop being so goddamn perfect all the time, won't you, Tommy? Say what you really mean for once!"

Tommy blinks, clearly taken aback by Buck's tone. Even Buck's surprised at himself, but at this point, it feels like it's beyond his control; that he couldn't stop even if he wanted.

"Alright, then I will", he says, crossing his arms over his chest, and it gives Buck some petty satisfaction to notice there's some irritation seeping into his voice. "It really sucked to be ignored like that, you know?"

That makes Buck deflate a bit, shame finding its way into his chest along with the anger. He had kind of tried to convince himself that Tommy had been mostly unaffected by his distance, that he'd only reached out to be polite. Now it's clear that's not the case, and it makes him feel bad.

"I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Ignored you. It wasn't fair.", Buck grumbles, running a hand over his face, his stubble prickly on his fingers.

He used to keep it razor sharp because of the department, but it feels useless now that he barely leaves the house.

"I just…", Buck continues, taking a pause when he feels his voice falter. He won't cry in front of Tommy. He has some dignity left. "I didn't know how to talk to you. Not without telling you everything."

Tommy frowns, hunching forward on his seat, his eyes intensely focused on Buck. "Why… Why did you feel like you couldn't tell me?"

"It's not that…", Buck says, and then sighs deeply. "It's not that I couldn't. I never felt I couldn't. I just… I didn't want to."

There's silence for a bit as Tommy absorbs that information. Buck thinks it's only fair to give him that time, and tries not to stare. He looks down at Sunny, who's lying on the floor by his foot, and strokes her fur. She sighs, but doesn't move from her comfort spot.

Eventually, Tommy straightens, clearing his throat, and Buck looks back up. Tommy is looking at him, but Buck can't read his expression right now.

"I…", he starts, then shakes his head. "I… I'd have liked to know. That we both worked at the same station."

Buck shrugs; it's not like it matters now, but he knows saying that won't be well received. He doesn't trust his voice not to tremble anyway.

"Just… Why not, Evan?"

Well. Fuck well received. Fuck his trembling voice.

"Because what would be the fucking point?! I'm not a firefighter anymore! Probably never again! So there's your fucking reason, Tommy. I didn't want to tell you because it means nothing now."

Tommy opens his mouth, but Buck keeps going. The words have been festering inside him for two weeks, and now they're pouring out like poison.

"I… The café. It felt like a fresh start. And I liked that", Buck says, his voice faltering. Damn; he's been crying more in the past few months than in the last decade.

Tommy, however, says nothing about Buck's barely existent emotional control. He's looking at Buck as if he's desperately trying to understand what's going on in his mind.

Buck would help him, if he could. But he's not sure he understands it all himself.

"I… I liked that you only knew me now. The… the new version of me. Already missing a leg. And that you couldn't compare this version to the older one"

And Buck knows, Buck knows he shouldn't say the next bit out loud, he knows it's unfair to himself, and wrong, and Bobby and Maddie would have his head for it, but…

"The… The better one."

There. He's said it. He's half expecting Tommy to jump at it with a protest, that Buck shouldn't talk about himself like that. Bobby probably would; Maddie definitely would, and she'd scold Buck for saying such a thing.

Tommy doesn't.

In fact, Tommy doesn't say anything at first; silence fills Buck's living room. It's interrupted by a small whine from Sunny, who starts pawing at Buck's leg. His outburst must have startled her. She paws at his leg once more, restless and whining.

Buck gently pats her head, bending down to press a kiss close to her ear.

"I'm fine, girl", he whispers softly. "It's okay, go back to your nap."

Sunny settles again, her head resting on her front paws. Buck looks back at Tommy, unsure what to expect after what he just confessed. In all honesty, he's surprised Tommy is not bolting for the door already.

"I didn't know that version of you", he says softly.

Then, he comes closer, close enough that Buck can smell his aftershave, something woodsy and with a hint of cinnamon. He feels an irrational urge to hold Tommy's hand, but before he can even try to resist it, the other man is reaching for his.

Tommy's hand is big and calloused, and feels amazing against Buck's own. Tommy squeezes it gently, and then looks deep in Buck's eyes.

"I like this one. The one I know."

Buck gasps, his heart beating fast, but Tommy is not done. His hand hasn't let go of Buck's yet.

"In fact, I… I like this version very much, Evan"

That shouldn't land as hard as it does; it could even sound like a cliché that would irritate Buck from someone else, but the way Tommy says it… It makes Buck feel warm in the best way, and he acts before his brain can catch up.

One second he's looking into Tommy's impossibly gentle eyes, and in the next he's leaning in.

His lips touch Tommy's, and before Buck can even think of regretting it… Tommy kisses back.

It's chaste, and brief, and Buck's lips are left tingling once it's over. He takes an extra second to open his eyes, but when he does, Tommy still has his closed. Buck's first instinct is appreciating just how handsome Tommy is for a split second.

And then he starts mildly panicking.

Because holy shit.

He just kissed Tommy.

(So much for being straight.)

Now what?

Fuck.

Tommy opens his eyes, a small smile on his face, but he sort of drops it once he looks at Buck, who has no mirror around but is sure he looks very panicked.

It makes Buck feel terrible; he doesn't want Tommy to think he didn't like this. That Buck doesn't like him. In fact, Buck thinks he likes Tommy a lot.

He just… There's too much going on in his heart and mind right now, and he can't give this new thing, can't give Tommy, the attention he deserves.

But how can he put that into words?

"Tommy, I… I…"

"Evan", Tommy stops him, and something at the tone of his voice puts Buck on edge. It's too casual, too… Neutral. "This… It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to"

"But it did mean something!", Buck exclaims, and this time he's the one grabbing Tommy's hand. He looks at it, a frown between his eyebrows. "I… I don't want you to think it didn't. I just… There's too much…"

Buck can feel tears of frustration burning at the corner of his eyes, because if the timing was different, he'd be over the moon about this kiss.

Next time Bobby starts talking about God's timing and how it's always right, Buck will throw something at him.

"Okay", Tommy says, and is like the tension has left his voice, that unnatural neutrality gone. "Okay. I get it. We don't have to figure this out right now."

"We don't?", Buck asks, and he's aware of how vulnerable he must sound.

Tommy, however, just nods, that lovely smile finding its way back into his face.

"We don't. We'll put a pin on it, okay? Until you're ready to unpin it."

"Okay", Buck agrees, unable to keep a sigh of relief from escaping his lips. But then, another fear occurs to him. "But… But can we still see each other until then? Like… Can we be friends again?"

Buck laughs at himself the moment he says the last word, rolling his eyes. "Gosh. I sound like a fourth grader."

"Hey, as long as you share your lunchbox", Tommy quips, and Buck lets out a wet laugh. Then Tommy gets serious again. "I don't plan on going anywhere. Just… Don't ghost me like that again, okay?"

To Buck's surprise, it seems like Tommy is the one on the verge of tears now. "It… It felt awful", he says, his voice small and vulnerable, and guilt pools into Buck's stomach.

"Yeah, of course. I won't. I am sorry for it, Tommy. I… I should have handled it better. It just…"

"Hey, no, I get it. I appreciate the apology, but I get it. I… I figure you have a lot on your plate."

A small hysterical laugh escapes Buck's lips. "Talk about an understatement."

He wraps his arms around himself, that sadness and despair that's become so familiar over the last few months threatening to take over again.

"It's just… Nothing's been the same ever since the accident, you know?", Buck admits, and Tommy takes a while to speak, as if he's carefully choosing his words.

"If you want to tell me about it… The accident or how it's been like since… I'm here. But if you don't, it's fine. I won't ask. It's your story."

Buck shrugs, petting Sunny once more. His dog has been very quiet ever since Tommy arrived, but she seems relaxed now. Her tail wags lazily when Buck pets her, but otherwise, she seems quite content just lying by his feet and listen to their conversation.

"I don't need to tell you", he deflects, not looking at Tommy. "You already know what happened."

"No", Tommy answers without hesitation, and Buck looks up in surprise. "I know what the press says that happened. I know what everyone's heard through LAFD's grapevine. I don't know what it was like for you."

With a pang to his chest, Buck realizes that he hasn't told his version of the story. Not really. The people closest to him were all there when it happened. And, no doubt trying to protect him, none of them have asked what it felt like.

Buck's next realization is that… He wants to tell. He's spent the last few months thinking that, maybe if he tried to put the accident behind him and focused on adapting to life without his leg, things would be easier.

Things are not easier.

Because this is about much more than his leg.

It's about closing his eyes at night and having the ghost feeling of hot pavement under his cheek. It's about being unable to forget the sheer pain of having a full firetruck pressing you against the ground.

Buck only notices he's crying when a sob escapes his chest and Tommy reaches out to wipe a tear off his cheek.

"Hey, hey", he says, impossibly gentle. "I'm sorry. We can talk about something else. Or I can leave. Whatever you choose."

"No", Buck whispers, his hand reaching for Tommy's wrist so he keeps touching his face. "Please, stay."

"Of course", Tommy answers without hesitation. "Do you want to talk about something else?"

"No", Buck says, more certain than he's been about anything in months. "I… I want to tell you what it felt like."

Tommy holds his gaze for a moment; he doesn't try to move his hand again. He just gently rubs his thumb in Buck's cheek; it feels good, and tender, and like being cared for.

"Are you sure?", he asks.

"I am."