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Do you think these look hot? - EB

What? - TK

Six pictures come through - Evan, in all sorts of different poses. Some shirtless, some in just a black tank and jeans. All of them incredibly hot. It’s clear nobody is looking out for him up there if they’re going to let Evan Buckley get away with doing this to him.

Why are you asking me? What is this even for? - TK

Hot Days, Smouldering Nights? - EB

The Firefighter Calendar? - EB

Nominations are coming around and I need to know what to submit. - EB

Are you asking me because I’m gay? - TK

The response is immediate.

No! Not at all!! - EB

Although, now you mention it. - EB

Your perspective might help? - EB

I could be objectively hot, right? - EB

If I’m hot to all sexes, doesn’t that give me a better chance of winning? - EB

You’ve been around for ages. - EB

Have you ever done the calendar? - EB

Ages, huh? Thanks. - TK

2006, 2008, 2010 and 2012. - TK

What the fuck, are you serious? - EB

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It’s an hour before he has to leave for his shift, and Tommy is already dressed and ready to go.

He’s been stuck in waiting mode all day, the hours only broken by Elena’s needs. He can’t settle into anything, can’t relax. He knows he should be resting, preparing both physically and mentally, but it feels like he’s doing the opposite. Like he’s vibrating just under the surface.

Twelve weeks.

Twelve weeks ago, he didn’t have a daughter. How is that even possible? How has he ever lived a day without her gummy little smile?

The knock at the door surprises him. He leaves Elena in her lounger and opens it, curious.

Carla stands on the doorstep, all smiles. Tommy grins back, immediate and wide.

“Thank god you’re early,” he admits, stepping aside to let her in, “I was driving myself mad.”

“I know how it is,” she says kindly, “Thought we could use the time - go over everything properly, so you don’t spend your whole shift worrying you forgot to tell me something.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/74078991/chapters/211725961

(Please enjoy ugly link until Tumblr sorts itself out)

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Elena finally shifts between them, bored and grumbling as she senses the mood.

“Okay, okay,” Tommy says gently, “Sorry baby girl. We’re done with morbid storytime.”

“Yeah. You don’t have to worry about any of that for a long time, little miss. Not with your Daddy and I here to protect you.”

Tommy nods, agreeing, “And it doesn't matter, because you’re never going on rollercoasters, and you're never getting behind the wheel of a car. Ever.”

“Or go on an escalator. Or go to the park. Or even step out of the house alone,” Evan adds.

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“So… something weird happened today. While I was- when I met Buck for lunch.”

Tommy hums, a quiet prompt.

“A woman came up to us,” Abby continues slowly, “She said she was Buck’s girlfriend. Or… ex. Or something. She accused him of cheating. Said… he ghosted her. Like. Recently.”

Tommy stills, just slightly, “Really?”

Abby shrugs, confused more than upset, “I don’t know. It didn’t make sense. He barely knew what she was talking about. I mean-” she cuts herself off, rubbing at her temple. “I guess I don’t really know him that well, but it just felt… wrong.”

Tommy doesn’t even have to think about it, “He doesn’t seem like the type,” he says simply.

Abby looks at him, surprised. “You know him less than I do.”

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Slowly, ever so slowly, the quiet and the peace starts to work its way under his ribs. He breathes, long drags of the fresh air, letting it settle in his chest.

What did he even do before Elena? What did he think about? Work, probably. After that? The gym. Working on his cars. The occasional hike. Babysitting the girls and hanging out with Sal. None of that means any less now that she’s here. He’s just not sure how he’s supposed to do any of it with Elena in the back of his mind, demanding attention.

It’s scary, how much of him she already consumes.

Even here, now, in complete silence, he’s thinking about her. Wanting to show her all of this, barely able to wait until she’s old enough to understand more than just hunger and warmth.

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They go through a couple of normal poses, all of them Tommy is happy with. Most of them involve cuddling Elena and looking at her with as much love in his heart as he can muster, which he’s had six days of practice doing so he figures he nails it pretty well.

He vetoes one idea she has though - turning him around so she can get a shot of his back, both arms flexed at right angles while Elena lays along his bicep. She explains it with far too much enthusiasm, painting the picture with her hands: the strong, dramatic lines of his back, the contrast of all that muscle with a sleepy little bundle small enough to fit along his arm.

“Come on,” she pouts, “It’s gonna be adorable, I promise.”

“Yeah, and everyone I know is going to see it and laugh.”

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Abby goes back to work on a Thursday morning, allegedly healed enough to handle a ten hour shift.

Tommy arrives to collect Elena to find her in her uniform, fussing with a thousand bobby pins in the mirror.

“You okay?” Tommy asks when he spots her frustratedly pulling a pin out and re-securing a loose strand.

Abby stares at herself in the mirror for a moment longer than necessary. When she exhales, it’s slow and deliberate.

“I’m… relieved,” she says finally. “Which makes me feel a little awful.”

She meets Tommy’s eyes in the reflection, then looks away again, fussing with the collar of her polo. “I’m guilty about being relieved. And I’m nervous about leaving my mom after being here all the time. And I’m excited to go back to work and do something I’m good at, and have a routine again.”

She stops, breath catching just slightly.

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Preparing a bag for her is a mammoth task.

He doesn’t know how many diapers is enough, so he ends up packing twenty - just in case. Three outfit changes for her, plus one for himself. Two packs of wipes, three cloths. A couple of rattling toys. Enough formula to last him a whole day.

He’s pretty sure he’s covered everything, checking it over one more time when he hears Elena finally stirring. She’s not crying; not yet. Usually he has a window of about three minutes before her sleepy gurgles turn into hungry wails.

It’s in those three minutes that he gets her bottle ready, heading quickly into her room when it’s ready, and slowly opening the curtains, letting light flood into the room, “Good morning, Elena.”