just a quick little thing inspired by this post from @vastya36
He should have been paying attention to the fireworks. Buck cursed himself as he woke up in a smoke filled room, alarm blaring. The kids in the neighbourhood had been setting them off all week to celebrate the end of school, and it seemed like one of them had finally found it’s way into his house.
He grabbed the fire extinguisher he kept in his room and pulled his sleep shirt up over his mouth and nose, crawling to the door and carefully feeling the doorknob. Still cool to the touch. He couldn’t see any flames yet, just a lot of smoke.
He’d gone over a fire plan with Theo more than once, teaching him different ways out of the house. Hopefully he’d woken up faster than Buck — Buck cursed the long shift that had knocked him out so completely, it was literally his job to wake up at an alarm — but Buck couldn’t wait to find out, and crawled down the hall to Theo’s room, pausing to close the open door of the bathroom and guest room after clearing them and making sure Theo wasn’t hiding in either of them.
The smoke was stinging his eyes and he was coughing. He still hadn’t come across any flames, which meant the fire was probably at the front of the house. Theo’s room was at the back, and he didn’t know if that was good or bad yet.
He’d just opened Theo’s door when he heard footsteps and yelling. He hadn’t even thought to call 911. Thank god someone else had.
He was looking under Theo’s bed when a gloved hand wrapped around his ankle, pulling him backwards. Buck managed not to kick out, it wasn’t the firefighter’s fault, but he did try to struggle forward.
“I have to find Theo!” he yelled behind him.
“He’s outside, let’s go!” The firefighter yelled back, hauling Buck upright and over his shoulders, running for the patio door.
Buck caught a glimpse of other firefighters in his living room, where the fire seemed to have contained. He slumped in relief, both that Theo was okay and that the damage seemed contained — all of his photos were scanned with multiple backups, and Theo’s room had seemed fine, so a good wash would probably fix everything. The poor kid had been through enough without losing favourite outfits and his baby blanket as well.
They were around the front of the house now, and Buck could see Theo on a stretcher with one of the paramedics entertaining him, not a scratch or smudge on him. He even had his slippers on to protect his feet. At least one of them was good in an emergency, Buck thought.
He was deposited on the stretcher next to Theo and treated to a twin reaction of “Mr Poop!” and “Evan?”
Buck looked up at the number on the ambulance, wincing before he turned to face his ex-boyfriend. “Uh, hi?”
“Stop talking,” the paramedic demanded, fitting him with an oxygen mask while Theo buried himself under Buck’s arm. “You taught your kid to get out but not yourself?” she shook her head.
“Hey, don’t be mean to Mr. Poop,” Theo piped up.
Buck managed to refrain from smacking himself in the forehead or dying of embarrassment.
Tommy was watching him closely, helmet off now as he brushed a hand through his sweaty hair. Buck wondered if maybe a sinkhole would open up and swallow him, save him from the inevitable conversation with Tommy about what he was doing in a new house with a toddler.
The paramedic made him keep the mask on for a few more minutes before she deemed him okay to take it off. Tommy was still hovering at the edges, but waited until Buck was given the all clear to talk before sidling closer.
Tommy’s captain — Melton, Buck reminded himself — came over to make sure they were okay and to let them know the fire had been put out, and it had indeed been contained to the front room of the house. He recommended spending the night somewhere else, but they’d been find to go back in the morning as long as they aired the place out.
“I bet you have a lot of questions,” Buck said when it was just him, Tommy, and Theo.
“A couple,” Tommy admitted. “They can wait. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”
“I can call Maddie,” Buck said.
Tommy pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Buck. Buck looked down in confusion at the key ring.
“I’m on shift all night, take him to my place,” Tommy said. “I can bring breakfast in the morning.”
Theo’s ears caught the word breakfast and he perked up. “Pancakes?” He asked eagerly.
“Hmm,” Tommy said thoughtfully. “I think I’d have to make those at home. The restaurant ones are never as fluffy.”
“Let’s stay with pancake man!” Theo said, tugging at Buck’s arm.
Buck looked at Tommy. “He’ll call you that forever,” Buck warned.
“Well, maybe until I make something he likes better,” Tommy said, with a hint of a smile.
“Thanks, Tommy,” Buck said, fingers closing around the keys. “Um, can you watch him for a second while I go grab my car keys?”
“Of course,” Tommy said. “It’s Theo, right?” He waited until Theo nodded. “Do you want to come get some stickers?”
“I already have fire engine stickers,” Theo informed him, taking his hand.
Tommy nodded. “I would imagine you do. What about helicopters?”
Theo made a noise of excitement, and Tommy looked back over his shoulder at Buck. Buck smiled at them and headed for the house, hoping to be in and out before Theo noticed and wanted to get back in too.
By the time Buck was back out, Theo had helicopter stickers on both cheeks and a handful of them.
“See you in the morning, pancake man!” Theo called as Buck carried him to the car.
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Tommy goes rigid, eyes wide and disbelieving. And, okay, they've been apart way longer than they were together, but— "Evan, come on.."
If it's a self worth thing, Buck gets that. They have common ground in that and they can work through it together. But if Tommy just doesn't believe him, doesn't believe that Buck knows his own heart? That's insulting.
"I love you, you asshole." Buck's eyes are hot. His heart thumps hard in his chest, a good hurt. "I know I love you because I miss you so much. Because i-it hurts to think about my life without you– and I think about you every day." Sometimes it's straight up wanting Tommy back, sometimes it's frustration that Tommy gave up on them before they had a chance to really try. He's not just lonely, he's missing part of himself, a whole half of himself he went a lifetime without and when he finally found it - found his person - there's just no way he can keep pretending like everything is fine being only half of himself.
But it's not just about him. He knows that, he's not an idiot. Tommy needs to hear that Buck isn't just being selfish, that the reason he wants to be together isn't just because Buck doesn't want to be alone and because Tommy treats him so well.
It's so much more than that.
His flare of anger burns up quick, gives way to sparks of longing.
"I love you because I know you, Tommy." And Tommy is worth loving. "I know you get up at dawn because you like watching the sunrise." Even if it meant leaving Buck alone in bed for twenty minutes. He's pretty sure Tommy always whispered for him to stay, sleep, warm hands stroking his bare arms and the softest kiss pressed to his temple, his curls, the back of his neck.
Buck doesn't know the exact reason why Tommy does it. He could guess, but he'd rather Tommy trust him enough, trust them enough, to share that part of himself. He knows some things about Tommy, but he's greedy. Buck wants to know the why behind everything.
"And on cloudy mornings it always takes a couple cups of coffee until you're not so grumbly."
Buck secretly loved those mornings. The few times where he was out of bed before Tommy and got to make him coffee. Tommy's arm would curl around him in the kitchen, a kiss pressed to his cheek, chin resting on his shoulder as he patiently waited for the coffee to brew.
"And you have reading glasses you don't wear." Tommy looks startled at that, like it was some well-kept secret Buck couldn't and shouldn't have known. "You never wore them when you were with me, and I don't know if you wear them now, but I saw you squinting at your books sometimes and I wanted to take them out of their hiding place and fit them on your nose and hook them behind your ears so you wouldn't be straining for something you enjoy. I want that— to take care of you."
It strikes a chord with Tommy, Buck can see it. The shift behind his eyes: the longing. Tommy wants that, too. He wants to let someone in.
"You don't like olives. But you won't change your order, you'll just eat them and not make a fuss," when we were together, Buck thinks. Because he's come to realise the ways Tommy folded himself up to not make a fuss, not matter how many times his bitchy attitude made an appearance he still didn't let his wants make things more complicated. "You're not as slick as you think you are. I see the face you make."
"I don't make a face," Tommy insists, a hint of that beautiful bitchiness coming through. But he doesn't deny it.
"There's a face. It's like—" he does his best impression of a subtly displeased Tommy, which earns him a scoff that's more humour than annoyance. It eases some of the tension and makes Buck smile. "You like old-timey music. Find it romantic." They danced to it in Buck's kitchen. Tommy mouthed the words, hummed the melody in his ear. "But you also love Bruce Springsteen," and Buck swallows down the memory of attending that concert with Bobby years ago; he'll share it - he wants to share, too - but not right now. "And that witchy woman with the blonde hair—"
"Stevie Nicks."
"Yeah, and your workout playlist is full of pop music," he says, like a gotcha! moment but not a bad one. It's an: I do know you, one. "And you don't think I know."
Tommy gathers himself for a moment, then purses his lips. "I didn't choose that playlist, it was premade. I just searched for 'workout songs'—"
Buck's laugh bubbles out of him as he removes some more of the distance between them. "You run cold, even in L.A. And I loved cuddling with you because I run hot, and I liked being able to warm you up, just a little." He never really thought about it at the time. Probably because most of their cuddling led to sex which was a very efficient warming method. But he's been thinking back over their time together, going over every memory - because he didn't want to forget; because he wanted to know where he went wrong; because it comforted him even through his heartbreak. He remembers finding comfort in Tommy's embrace, in their shared warmth, and the goosebumps on Tommy's forearms when they left a restaurant in the night air, or when they sat together on the couch.
"I liked cuddling with you, too," Tommy shares. It bolsters Buck further.
"I loved wearing your clothes," Buck confesses, achingly fond and aching in the empty part of him where there's been a Tommy shaped cavern for too damn long. "Felt like you were with me, even when you weren't." Not having any of Tommy's hoodies to wear after the breakup was a double-edged sword; he probably wouldn't have taken them off. But he wore one of the sleep shirts he stole (Tommy let him steal) for weeks before he threw it into the wash after he ran out of sugar and almost wore it to the store.
"You looked good in my clothes," Tommy says, quiet, like it's only meant for his own ears. He looks like he wants to say more about it but sobers and changes tact. Tries to put back the distance Buck has been gaining. "You don't know everything—"
"I want to know," Buck cuts off Tommy's attempt to push him away, refuses to let him retreat, give up, think so lowly of himself. Buck wants to know all of him, wants to be let inside Tommy's walls and prove he's not a threat. "And whatever it is won't change the way I feel about you, I promise."
"Evan," Tommy pleads. "You can't promise that."
"I can and I do. That's what love is, right? Loving someone anyway." It's what Buck's wanted his whole life, and now he has the chance to love someone that way.
But Tommy still won't let himself have this. Buck can see the fear holding him back.
"I'm not him." Buck won't say his name, doesn't want to trigger Tommy in this moment that should be theirs. This moment belongs to them. "You're not not enough for me, Tommy." You're everything, he doesn't say, doesn't want to get the wrong message across like last time. "I love you for you, not some idolised version of you. And I'm sorry I didn't find the right words the first time around." Tommy's smile is tentative, wobbly, his eyes sad. "I want to prove that to you, if you'll let me." Buck reaches his hands up to cradle Tommy's face, stubble grounding under his touch, and something in him lights up when Tommy doesn't pull away. "Please let me."
Tommy searches his eyes for a moment and Buck lets him see everything he's feeling, all the love he has for him plain on his face.
"What if I'm not easy to love?" Tommy whispers, like some terrible secret.
Buck's laugh is watery. "And I am?"
"Loving you is like breathing, Evan," Tommy breathes, and Buck's heart skips a beat. "How could I not?"
Tommy loves him.
Tommy loves him?!
"You love me?" Buck.. did not know that. Did he know that? He hoped Tommy would love him but it didn't actually factor into his own confession. This wasn't transactional, he didn't expect anything in return except the hope that Tommy would let himself be loved. Buck does have a lot of practice loving people who don't love him back, so it wasn't—
Tommy's hand fits over his where he's still holding Tommy's cheek. He grasps it gently and turns to press a lingering kiss to his palm. "Of course I love you."
The words don't bowl him over. It's not a surprise, it's more like.. a weight off his chest and getting an unburdened lungful of air for the first time in almost a year. It's something warm suffusing him from the inside out and lighting up where their bodies meet, where Tommy is holding him, pressing loving kisses into his skin. "You love me," Buck says. It's a revelation, a universal truth that he should've known but never thought to ask.
Tommy's laugh is watery now, a few happy tears - Buck thinks they're happy - dropping from his lashes. Buck's thumbs sweep under his eyes to catch them.
"So.. we love each other," he says slowly, unable to keep his smile in check. "I want to be with you. Do you.." It seems silly. Is it silly? Maybe. But saying and doing are different things. There's steps, right? Buck doesn't want to speed ahead, not again. He wants to do this right. He needs to do this right, for Tommy. If Tommy needs time, space, he'll give him that. He'll give him anything—
"Why be apart when we can be together, right?"
Their smiles break free, no more fear holding them back. It's not gone but it's not calling the shots anymore.
They meet in a kiss. Buck pours everything he feels for Tommy into this kiss all the while hoping he gets to do it again, and again, and again. And Tommy presses the same right back - Buck can feel him breaking free of the restraints that bound him, that stopped him from being his full self with Buck, stopped himself from having something good, from letting himself love and be loved. Buck can't wait to know all of him, and his grin grows so wide at the future unfurling between them that their lips have to part, but he doesn't pull away. They stay close, noses brushing and hands grasping.
And Tommy stole his line so it's only fair to steal his. He brushes the words across Tommy's lips: "What are you doing Saturday?"
Something about Evan opening his eyes first, completely in awe of what just happened and Tommy keeping his eyes closed for a second longer to savour the kiss 🥺❤️ they are truly the missing pieces in each other’s lives.
let’s count this as my wip tags from @rcmclachlan and @ambernotember :)
part one // part two // part three
bucktommy, rating: t, 3.5k, superheroes and villains
"Don't you have anything better to do than rob a bank?"
"Don't you have anything better to do than stop a bank robber?" Buck retorted, dancing backwards and throwing a smirk Kestrel's way. "This is small potatoes for you."
"You literally hung a sign up outside the bank with an X pointing here and dared me to come find you," Kestrel glared, and Buck could see the faintest hint of red around his eyes.
Oooh, he was getting mad. Buck laughed, blasting the door off another safety deposit box and aiming another stream of fire at him. Kestrel blew out a breath and the fire turned to ice, dropping to the ground and shattering.
"I missed you," Buck said cheerfully, stomping around and leaving a heartprint sizzling above the floor. "And I don't have your number!"
"Can you stop, or do I have to stop you?" Kestrel demanded, hovering in the vault's doorway. "This is childish."
"No, this is childish." Buck let the heart drop, burning a pattern into the ground. The bank was going to have to redo the whole room anyway — at this point, a few more damages was just going to make it easier for them to claim with insurance. "You're not going to stop me."
"And why am I not going to stop you? You are a villain. I'm a hero. Seems like the sort of think I am supposed to do."
"Because my entire body is covered in flames, whirlybird," Buck drifted closer, watching Kestrel track him through the room. "You know how you kill fire?"
"You cut off the oxygen."
"But a person needs oxygen to breathe," Buck continued, stopping just outside Kestrel's reach. He let the fire get hotter, listening to the air as it crackled. "You freeze me, you have to freeze my whole body. No air. Boom, dead guy. That's not very heroic of you."
"I could just knock the ice off once you're unconscious."
"The second air hits my body again," Buck watched a drop of sweat drip down Kestrel's cheek. "Boom!" He cackled. "It's like a bomb going off."
"Give me the bag, Firestarter," Kestrel drew himself up, rolling his shoulders back like he was bracing himself.
"Make me." Buck made a finger gun and aimed it at the ground, dragging a line of fire across the vault.
Kestrel swore, jumping back when it singed his boots. It was even funnier when he was floating a few inches off the ground.
Buck blasted his way into the last safe deposit box, reaching in without taking his eyes off Kestrel. "Oooh, you know the bank records say that this one just had paperwork?" He asked, juggling the diamonds. He nudged the bag open with a foot, tossing them in. "I bet whoever owns this box isn't going to admit where they got them," he mused.
Kestrel blew out a breath and Buck watched as the fire started freezing, the ice moving faster and faster down the line. Shit.
"Hey, you're getting better at that!" Buck said, instead of letting him know that Buck was worried. He took a few steps back, hoisting the bag higher on his shoulder and clenching a fist behind his back.
"I've had practice," Kestrel said dryly, kicking the ice apart and stepping forward.
"See? I'm helpful." Buck swallowed, thrusting his fist back against the wall. It exploded outwards, and Buck pushed himself backwards, redirecting the flames to the bottom of his boots and taking off like a rocket.
"Get back here!" Kestrel had to duck to avoid the initial explosion, but he was in the air a heartbeat after Buck.
"That truly defeats the purpose of a chase," Buck called behind him, bracing himself and pushing faster.
"I'm gonna bounce you into a crater," Kestrel threatened.
"I'd rather bounce on something else!" Buck laughed, taking a risk and doing a loop so he could look back at Kestrel.
"Ooh, nice work," Null purred, popping into existence beside Buck.
"Shit!" Buck startled, the flames flickering out for the length of a heartbeat. He started to drop, and Nullity grabbed the bag away from him.
Buck rubbed his hands together, a flame restarting between them, and he stopped falling after a few dozen feet. Kestrel pulled a stop, and Buck thought that he could read the dilemma on his face. Firestarter was a villain, but as a hero Kestrel couldn't let him fall, but maybe it was a trap to get him to come closer, but maybe he was really in trouble —
"I'll keep this safe while you play with your food," Nullity offered, smirking. "Don't dawdle too long, or…"
"Yeah, I know." Gerrard had said to drop it off right after he left the bank, and at some point he'd have to give up the fight to get it done or the compulsion would make him. Buck grinned. "You're a pal."
Nullity vanished, and Buck grinned across at Kestrel. "Race you to the bank," he teased, arcing away to the north. There were a few other branches that way, and hey — if he could get away and into another building, why not, right?
Kestrel hit his right side like a freight train and Buck gasped, shoving at his shoulders as Kestrel wrapped his arms around him. Buck pulled the fire in tight against his skin, unwilling to risk burning him. "You're insane!"
"You're a menace," Kestrel growled, and then they were diving into the ocean.
He'd obviously angled them so the impact wouldn't knock Buck out, but the rush of salt water doused the rest of the fire instantly. Buck hissed, thumping at his shoulder. Buck could, if he really focused, create something hot enough that it would act like lava under the water, but that would risk injury to both of them — well, okay, mostly to Kestrel, and Buck knew that he had some sort of healing powers, but it was a lava equivalent.
Kestrel surfaced them just before Buck ran out of air, his hair flopping over his mask as he smirked. "You were saying about the way to kill fire?"
Buck glanced around, spotting the Ferris Wheel. Damn, how fast could Kestrel fly? They'd been at least two minutes away from Santa Monica at Buck's top speed when he'd been grabbed.
"More than one way to skin a cat," Buck agreed easily. He pressed in closer, knowing that Kestrel wouldn't let him drop. "If you wanted to get your hands on me, all you had to do was ask."
"Firestarter, you're under arr—"
"Seriously?" Buck groaned, tipping his head back and staring at the sky. "You've got a guy in your arms, totally soaked, offering themselves up, and you want to arrest them? Not a single other activity comes to mind?"
"—you're under arrest," Kestrel continued, his voice implacably firm. "You have the right—"
"Geez," Buck huffed, shaking his head. He wiggled his right foot in the water, starting a little eddy around them. "Heroes really don't know how to have any fun."
"—to remain silent…" Kestrel trailed off as the water around them bubbled.
"I really think the ocean is too cold for a swim this time of year," Buck said brightly, and the water surrounding him exploded, steam escaping as it started boiling.
Kestrel swore as the water around his palms heated up, forcing him to let go of Buck.
Buck did feel bad about that, but he'd carefully calibrated the temperature to be only as hot as water on a stove. That was perfectly within the range of injuries he'd seen Kestrel heal from before.
"Air," Buck mock-apologized, and the eddy he'd started turned into a geyser, throwing him into the air. "Better luck next time, Tin Donkey!" He saluted Kestrel, throwing another burst of heat into the ocean and creating a wave that crashed over him.
He took off for the loft, using the momentary advantage to get the hell out of Kestrel's sightline before he dropped to the street, slipping under the nearest manhole cover.
Sewers were gross, but they were always mostly empty and they went everywhere in the city. Buck had spent four months memorizing the power and water maps, and he used his powers with extreme prejudice to make sure that he didn't have to touch the liquid running through them.
The heat did make the smell worse, though. By the time he surfaced next to the loft he knew that he'd had to wash the suit at least twice. Damn it. Buck risked flying up the side of the building and in through the window he'd left open.
"That took longer than I thought it would," Null said, leaning back against the counter. They had a plate of Buck's cookies in their hand, and based on the number of cookies left Buck could tell that they'd eaten their way through about half of them already.
"Shut up," Buck muttered, digging through the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.
"Did you have fun?" Nullity teased.
"Not as much as I could have," Buck sighed, rolling the bottle between his hands. "Apparently the man has morals."
"He is a hero," Nullity hummed, vaporizing the lower half of their body and floating up towards the ceiling. "What did you expect?"
Buck scratched the back of his neck, looking up the stairs. "Where did you leave the bag?"
"Front closet," Nullity nodded. "Do you know how to make red velvet cookies?"
"I'll make some for you this week," Buck promised, digging through the closet. He put a jacket on, covering the top of his uniform and zipped it up before he slung the bag over his shoulder. "Are the cookies why you're not sure you want to kill me?"
Nullity laughed, the sound grating in his ears. "They don't hurt," they offered, waving as Buck opened the front door. "Don't worry about giving me any credit. I'd prefer he didn't know that I saw you outside of jobs he asks us to pull together."
"Don't worry, I don't want him to know that either. If he thinks we're friendly, he might send someone else after me."
"Hey, Tommy, we're trying to settle a debate here, do you think that — holy shit, dude, what happened to you?"
Tommy scowled, pulling his boot off and shaking water out of it. "I don't want to talk about it."
"It's not even seven in the morning, who… oh," Lucy trailed off, laughing.
"Don't say it," Tommy warned.
"Where'd you find him this time?" Sal asked, handing his coffee to Tommy. He looked too amused by half, and Tommy made a face at him, draining the rest of the coffee.
"Pacific Federal. He was looting their vault."
"How'd you get wet?"
"He said that there was no way to get rid of the fire without killing him."
"And you took that personally?" Gina asked, hiding a smile as she dug the first aid kit out from under the sink. "Your hands don't look great."
"They'll be fine by the time I go on shift," Tommy waved the help off, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs.
"You could have called for help," Lucy said slowly.
"I don't get him," Tommy shook his head. "He's got all this power, and basically all he does is robberies and fight with us. There's no…" he waved his hand. "Supervillainy."
"He's got powers and he does crime. Isn't that the definition of supervillain?"
"You know what I mean." Tommy rolled his eyes at Gina. She was trying to rules lawyer him out of being pissed off, but it wasn't going to work this time. "He thinks this is a joke! He spends more time goading us than he does committing crimes."
"No, he spends more time hitting on you than he does committing crime," Sal snarked, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "And he's gotten way less subtle about it. Not that he was at all subtle to start."
"I hate you," Tommy groaned, dropping his head into his hands.
"What'd he say today?" Lucy prodded, ever observant.
"That if I wanted to get my hands on him, I just needed to ask," Tommy muttered into his hands.
The three of them laughed at him.
"At least he kept it PG?"
Tommy flipped Sal the finger. "I give up. I retire. You three can protect the city without me."
"Yeah yeah, you're retiring. You retire more often than Elton John has farewell tours."
"That comparison feels like a hate crime," Tommy griped.
"And you stick to that decision as often as he does," Sal continued, nudging Tommy's side with his elbow.
"He practically put himself out this morning the second that I grabbed him."
"Yeah, because burning the crap out of the guy you're lusting after significantly lowers the chances of you getting lucky," Gina nodded. "Makes sense to me."
"Your real problem is that you have two men willing to suck your dick and you haven't taken either one of them up on it. You're pent up, my friend," Lucy patted his shoulder sympathetically. "You need to get laid."
"What is that smell?" Tracy demanded, leaning in and sniffing Buck.
"Personal space!" Buck protested, swatting at her with his towel. "I spilled…"
"Dumpster juice?" Tracy asked, her nose wrinkled. She took a step back. "You should stay on the drive thru for a bit until that dissipates."
"But—"
"Do you really want hot firefighter being able to smell you today," Tracy asked, putting her hands on Buck's shoulders and steering him towards the window. "Bianca! Good news! You get to work the counter."
"Joy," Bianca drawled, frowning at Buck. "How'd you get on her bad side— whew. Never mind."
"Hey! I took two showers!"
"Should have taken three!"
"I have a problem."
"Yeah, you showed up at a police sergeant's house when you're a wanted felon."
Buck glared at Athena, hunching his shoulders. "Is Bobby home?"
"You know he's in the middle of a shift or you wouldn't have showed up."
"I thought you two tried to line your shifts up."
"Mm, we do, but I got some overtime on account of being—"
"Kidnapped, yeah," Buck grinned at her. "Sorry about that. Or is it congrats on getting an extra night off?"
"You know you can come by in your regular clothes."
"Oh yeah, and then someone hears what we're talking about and I'm screwed. No, better to show up like this and then I have a reason to escape if I need to."
"Hopefully without burning my house down," Athena said mildly.
"Depends. I get pretty good insurance payouts," Buck mused. "Any chance you were hoping for a remodel?"
"Buck," Athena dropped a plate in front of him. Mm, sprinkle doughnut. "What's your problem?"
"Haven't gotten laid in a while," Buck offered, grinning around a mouthful of delicious, delicious carbs.
"Keep looking elsewhere."
"Not you, geez, why does everyone — I guess that's a point in sea king's favour, he never asks if I'm into you."
"Probably because you spend your limited time together throwing the worst pickup lines possible at him."
Buck rolled his eyes. "Okay, let's — hmm. I have a boss."
"Daggertooth. Stupid name."
"Right. Yeah. The real ones paralyze their prey with venom."
"I assume that's why you say you can't tell me things, sometimes."
"Uh-huh. Oh, please don't use his name, I don't — know if he can hear it."
"Fantastic."
"I don't think so, but better safe."
"This problem. Can you talk about it?"
"We're gonna find out." Buck told her, settling back in his chair. "Okay. I have a deal."
"Right. We've talked abut that."
"It… expires. In a few months."
Athena hummed, rubbing a hand over her jaw. "What happens then?"
"Theoretically, I'm allowed to leave the employ of the Ghoul."
"And in actuality?"
"I… might have pissed him off," Buck said slowly, tapping his fingers against the end of the plate.
"Might have? You're losing your touch."
Athena grinned when he shot a glare at her.
"Okay, that's not the point— I mean, yeah, maybe it is the point. It's fine when I'm talking back to other people, but I might have talked back to him, and it might have — annoyed him. That I pointed out most of us were only there because we had to be."
Athena shook her head, sucking in a breath. "Buck. That was—"
"Yeah, I know it was dumb!" Buck protested. "But he was only giving me ten percent when my deal says that I get twenty, and… what would you do if your boss halved your pay?"
"So because you pissed him off…" Athena trailed off, giving Buck a chance to finish.
"He's asked one of the others to ah. Make sure that I don't get to walk away from the contract."
"He put a hit out on you."
"Technically not for a few months, because I'm too useful to give up earlier than he has to…"
"And he just told you about this?"
Buck snorted. "No. The guy he asked to do the hit told me."
"…are you sure it's a legitimate tip? That sounds…"
"Hinky? Yeah. I know. They told me last week, and I've been keeping an eye on Ol' Stinky since then. He's really angry. He's good at making it look like he's not — mostly because he's always angry, so it's hard to tell the difference, but," Buck worried at his bottom lip. "I think it's legit."
"Okay, so what's the exact date that your contract is up?"
"November sixth."
"Okay." Athena brushed a hand through her hair, considering him. "It's April."
"Barely," Buck conceded.
"And you think he's going to keep sending you on jobs for as long as possible."
"I have the highest success rate of any of us against the AFO. He'd be an idiot to get rid of me before he had to."
"And you wonder why he gets mad when you talk to him. …You can't tell me where his base is."
"Nope. I can tell you every crime I committed and who I committed it with — and for — but nothing else," Buck crossed his arms over his chest, watching her. "You never thought it was odd that the people who started to flip on him always died? It's a failsafe. We can tell, but we're not obligated. If someone gets snapped up and starts spilling their guts, he knows they're not going to keep their mouth shut once the contract is up, so he takes care of them."
"He must have offered you something really good if you signed a deal that bad."
"I didn't know about the murdering before I signed the contract," Buck protested. "But it was something I couldn't have pulled off on my own. I think. I'm not really the kind of person who like. Does that."
Athena pursed her lips. "Does he know who you are out of the costume?"
"No, what, do I look that stupid? I approached him in — well, not this costume, and I signed it with the… work name? Code name?"
"What do you think about dying?"
"I'm morally opposed to it? Hence why I'm here? Talking to you?"
Athena laughed once. "Not you, Firestarter. Can you stop? Using your powers, committing crimes?"
"I mean I was planning to go straight — in the legal sense, at least — once my contract was up. So yeah, I can stop the criming."
"And the powers?"
"I mean…" Buck shrugged. "I can be less flashy about it. Just for my own personal use."
Athena twisted her wedding ring around her finger. "And the contract is void once you're dead."
"Well, yeah, but I don't think faking my death will override the contract."
"But if your heart stopped and then we restarted it, that would probably do it."
"Maybe?"
"I have an idea."
"I don't think I'm going to like it."
"I don't think anyone is going to like it." Athena leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm and staring at Buck. "You promise to tell me everything the moment that you can? So that I can take him down for good?"
"You get me out of this, and I'll tell you whatever you want."
"I can see how you ended up signing a stupid ass contract." Athena glanced over at the clock on the mantle, checking the time. "Bobby's going to be home in an hour or so. I've got some planning to do."
"How should I get in touch with you?"
"Phone seems like a bad idea," Athena mused. "All things considered."
"Give me a date and time, I'll come by and pick you up," Buck offered, grinning at her.
"Geez. Okay. It's Wednesday, so — same time next week? I'll need a few days to talk to everyone."
"Gotta say, I don't love that this plan is already involving more people than you and me."
"You want me to fake the death of a supervillain — I can't exactly do that on my own."
"Supervillains want to take over the world, I'm not sure this is an accurate title for me."
"Get outta here, Buck. And try not to get into any more trouble before the next time I see you."
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“I swear I just invited you over to see my new place,” Buck manages to say in between kisses.
“I swear I didn’t come over to defile every room in your house,” Tommy promises, moving to kiss down the side of his neck. He pushes Buck’s button up aside so he can bite down on Buck’s trap, soothing it with his tongue. “Who’d you steal this style from, hmm? Black button up over a tank top?”
“You like?” Buck arches forward against him.
“Of course I do.” Tommy’s eyes are dark as he bends down to pick Buck up, startling a yelp out of him. Tommy puts him on the counter they’ve been leaning against, immediately slotting himself between Buck’s legs.
“Off,” Buck commands, pulling at Tommy’s henley. Tommy raises his arms so Buck can pull it off, dropping it on the floor. He reels Tommy back in, a hand behind his neck and a leg around his waist, kissing him deeply. Tommy wraps his arms around Buck, pushing up at his shirt to get his hands on bare skin, holding him close.
They don’t need to rush, they have all the time in the world, but Buck doesn’t want to move away, doesn't want to slow down. He snakes a hand between them so he can cup Tommy’s cock through his jeans, feels how hard he is, hears him panting next to Buck’s ear.
He pulls him closer with both legs, grinding their hips together, his hand still cupping and rubbing Tommy, squeezing at the base of his cock as he bites Tommy’s lip, slides their tongues together, does everything he can to meld their bodies into one.
“Yeah, yeah baby,” Tommy gasps in between kisses. Buck’s body is on fire. He makes Tommy feel like that. He makes Tommy feel good. He slides his hand from Tommy’s neck up into his curls, giving them a firm tug.
Tommy cries out and bends forward, dropping his head to Buck’s shoulder as his body shakes. Buck did that. Buck made Tommy lose control so completely in his kitchen. He preens a little bit, rubbing his hand over Tommy’s still clothed cock until Tommy has to push his hand away.
“Your turn,” Tommy says, angling himself so Buck can rub against his leg, getting his hand over Buck’s cock. Buck ruts gracelessly against him, pulling Tommy down into another kiss, this one made sloppy as he works to get himself off. Tommy knows him so well, knows exactly when to squeeze and rub and tug, when to kiss and when to bite. It's as one of Tommy's hands ghosts across his nipples that Buck comes, arching up into him, holding Tommy’s hand against him even as he careens into oversensitivity.
“If that’s what we do in the first room you see, what are we going to do in the others?” Buck asks as he holds onto Tommy.
“Show me the bathroom, we’ll find out.” Tommy gives him a wicked grin.
"They gave Buck a boyfriend who is just Eddie in a diffrent fon-"
NO! 🗞️
They gave Tommy and Eddie a handful of shared hobbies to facilitate their friendship. The hobbies in question mostly being things Buck gives zero fucks about.
That’s a literal plot point by the way, Buck doesn’t care about basketball - until Tommy’s playing. Buck doesn’t care about flying - Until Tommy’s offering lessons.
The things Eddie and Tommy have in common are not “proof of buddie”. Because Buck doesn’t want to do any of them with Eddie.
He just wants to spend time with the hot pilot, and will take any opportunity to do it (except calling him and asking directly)
