#io writes

***

The thing is, Buck tries. He tries really hard to keep everyone together, to help where he can, to support everyone while they all go through the loss, but it never feels like enough. Chimney refuses to meet his eyes. Eddie keeps oscillating between giving him a silent treatment and randomly lashing out. Hen just puts on a brave face and pretends that everything is as good as it can ever be. Every time Buck reaches out, a door gets shut in his face. Every time he tries to check in, he gets a one or two word response. The station kitchen is clean, empty and quiet. The walls of the lounge have not heard laughter in a long time. Chimney tries too, to be the leader, to live up to Bobby’s standard, but everyone knows that he still blames himself. Bobby’s shadow is looming over the entire firehouse, and Buck feels like they’re slowly losing air every time he comes inside. The reminders become suffocating. No family dinners, no friendly bullying, no well-timed and well-worded fatherly advice. The 118 truly has become just a number for him. Buck tries to give them time. Give them space. He tries to blend in with the background to not be in the way. He stops inviting people to go out, he stops trying to assess their grief, stops cooking for the whole crew. Slowly but surely, he becomes just another ghost haunting the house, and somewhere in there he realizes that he cannot live like this anymore.

Transfer from the 118 doesn’t take nearly as long as Buck has expected it to. Hen and Chimney try their best to talk him out of it, to keep the family together, but when Buck asks what was left of said family, no one has an answer for him. Ravi gives him big, sad cow eyes and later texts him to go out together. Maddie tells him he is making a mistake. Eddie once again implies that he is only thinking about himself. Buck is really tired of everyone around him deciding his life for him. He fills out the paperwork, bakes everyone a goodbye batch of raspberry muffins, and waits.

Despite Chimney’s unwillingness to let him go, he signs the papers and three days later Buck gets a call from 122, asking if he is interested in a full-time position. Buck agrees on the spot, before stopping at the nearest gas station and buying a pack of menthol cigarettes he hasn’t touched since Peru. He mentally apologizes to Bobby for all the wrong decisions he keeps making. He promises to keep Bobby posted on everything that happens in his life.

***

Transition to the new house is quiet. Everyone knows why he is there, and everyone gives him pitying looks, and everyone tells him how many great things they’ve heard about him. No one mentions Bobby by name, and Buck silently accepts that Bobby’s ghost is going to haunt this house too. Captain Deluca is the only one who acts normal around him. He orders Buck around like any other firefighter, and teaches Buck on how this house runs. He not-so-subtly helps Buck find a niche in 122 where he would fit, and Buck is grateful. At the end of his first week in the new firehouse, he writes a letter with everything he has accomplished, writes about every new coworker he has, about the probie that looks like he should still be in high school learning algebra. He writes about the things that are similar. Things that are different. Things that are new and those that are old. It takes him two full pages to say everything he wants to say. He puts the letter in the envelope, seals it, writes Bobby’s address on the back. He goes out for a smoke and burns the letter in his backyard.

He vows to himself to stay busy. The less time he has to think, the better his life is going to be. He picks up every available shift he can, and finds any excuse to leave the house on his days off. Buck bulks up and gains even more muscle because he is in the gym so often. He knows every hiking trail within two hours of his new place. He shows Ravi his favorite bars. He ignores the messages from his sister. He ignores how quiet the 118 group chat has become.

***

When Buck wakes up from his most recent 72-hour run, there is a package on his porch that he didn’t order. It has a sticky note on top, reading “Let me know when you run out” in a familiar, slightly wonky and slanted handwriting. Inside the package is a ziploc bag of slightly misshapen sugar cookies, a couple of bottles of orange Gatorade, a container of pumpkin soup and a DVD of Lilo and Stitch 2. Buck takes a minute to squash the desire to press the box to his chest and never let go. He fixes a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape before texting Tommy a single yellow heart emoji and opening the cookies.

Tommy is an omnipresent figure in his life. He is there when it matters most, he checks in every other day, he drops off care packages like it’s his full-time job, but he is never actually there. He appears, does something stupidly nice, and disappears again. Buck misses the time when he could hold Tommy’s hand just because he felt like it. He misses the days when his laundry would mix in with Tommy’s after he spent the night. He misses waking up to Tommy’s ice cold feet pressing themselves to his shins trying to get warm. He misses how nice it felt to flirt with Tommy knowing that Tommy is flirting back. He misses the late night calls, the “Be safe” messages, the stupid pilot memes that Tommy collects on his phone like it’s his most prized possession. He misses Tommy, period. He misses his entire person, with all his quirks and insecurities, with his terrible taste in coffee and even worse taste in movies. Every time Tommy does something for him, he wants to beg him to stay. To wait just a minute and let Buck explain himself. To not run away again. But he never does. He is done running after people who do not want to be caught.

When he comes in for his next shift, Captain Deluca calls him into his office to inform him that someone dropped off a box of his favorite peanut butter chocolate energy bars at the station. Captain Deluca doesn’t say who they are from, but Buck already knows. He brings the energy bars to his locker before starting on the morning truck checks, silently smiling to himself.

***

He is at the grocery store, trying to remember if he still has enough dish soap to last him a week when he gets a text from Maddie, checking in on him. He sends “All good.” back and locks his phone. The 118 chat keeps silently judging his every move. He grabs a bottle of his favorite fragrance-free dish soap and a pack of Oreos before heading out. He is doing the laundry, and putting extra care into folding one of the hoodies that Tommy left behind. He doesn’t think about how long it has been since Tommy stepped foot into his place. He doesn’t think about how long it’s been since anyone visited him. He hasn’t heard from the 118 in a while, and he tells himself that he is okay with it.

***

The shift started five hours ago and they still haven’t gotten any calls, which Buck knows means they will pay for it later. He makes himself another cup of coffee, cleans the kitchen counters, mops the floors in the locker room and starts a load of laundry with the sheets from the bunks. The probie comes up to him with questions about flashovers, and he spends fifteen minutes walking the kid through the suppression process. He is completely ready to crawl up the walls and wail when the bells finally go off. It’s a car accident on an intersection of the county highway and a rural street. Someone forgot to stop at the stop sign and rear-ended the car in front of them at a highway speed. Thankfully, no one needs extrication, but they do call air support for the driver of the stopped car because she has severe back pain and can’t feel her legs. Buck lets the team deal with the driver while he crouches down to talk to the driver’s granddaughter who was sitting in the front seat. He makes sure she doesn’t have any physical injuries. He gives her a stuffed snow leopard they keep in the ambulance just for this. He patiently answers all her questions, and does his best not to flinch when she looks up at him with wet, terrified eyes, when she tries to turn her head towards him as much as she can with a c-collar, and asks him if ambulances ever crash. He doesn’t have the heart to lie to her. When the helicopter lands just down the street from them and the rotor stops, Buck looks up to see Tommy behind the controls. He holds eye contact with him for what feels like forever, before the driver is loaded and the report is given and they’re back on their way up. When he gets back to the station, there is an unread message from Tommy waiting for him. “The grandma will make a full recovery. She said thanks for taking care of the kid. How are you?’ Buck leaves it on Read.

***

The days slowly blend in together. Go to work, come home, pass out. Go to work again. Ignore the concerned messages that finally start coming in. Tell Maddie that he is doing great. Tell Ravi that he doesn’t feel like going out tonight. The hole in his chest keeps growing. The first few days after the funeral, he felt constant, unrelenting pain in his ribs, for a minute he was sure he broke something without realizing. Then it slowly subsided, turning into an endless, chilling void where his heartbeat used to be. Every morning starts with a text to Bobby, wishing him a good day and telling him that Buck is doing well. When two weeks later the texts stop coming through, Buck cries until he throws up his breakfast. Bobby’s name is still pinned to the top of his chats. He doesn’t have it in him to remove it.

***

About a month later, LA gets hit with a rainstorm so strong it feels like the sky is shattering over his head. Buck is on mandatory 48-off after all the overtime he pulled. Captain Deluca, ever the stoic and authoritative figure, keeps giving him concerned looks. Buck has seen him step away to send long, seemingly expressive texts to someone after Buck himself pulled something stupid on scene again. Buck knows who those texts go to, but doesn’t feel like confronting his captain about it. He sits in his new house in silence. He hasn’t cooked anything in over two weeks now. His kitchen is so psychotically clean someone could perform a surgery on his island counter. All the art and posters that he keeps moving with him are still in the box somewhere in the garage, and the walls remain empty. He hasn’t talked to Eddie in over a month. He tells himself that it’s fine. He doesn’t think of the years he spent so sure that he finally found a friend who will stay. Who will not leave because Buck is annoying, or irrational, or too loud. He doesn’t think of the silent chat he has with Christopher that hasn’t been open in a very long time. He doesn’t think of the tsunami, how he was ready to admit to his best friend that he killed his son. How that same best friend accused him of not saving their captain later. He just doesn’t think.

In the tranquility and stillness of the silence, it takes him a second to recognize a knock on his door. The knocking pattern is familiar, and it blends in nicely with the sound of rainfall outside. Behind the door, wet and miserable but oh so real, is Tommy. He is holding a thermos and a big reusable bag from the chain store. His hair is sticking to his face, his lashes are all clumped together from the rain, and he, like the self-sacrificing idiot that he is, is not wearing a jacket. His hoodie is soaked, and when he steps from one foot to the other his boots make a disgusting squelching sound. Buck steps back to let him in.

“I have some of your bad day tea, a blanket, and about six or seven absolutely horrid comedies with me.” Tommy extends the thermos, which Buck knows contains strong black tea with a teaspoon of sugar and a ton of milk, and a bag in front of himself like a peace offering. “I don’t have to stay here for any of it, but I thought it would be good for you to have something nice while the weather is kicking all of our asses.”

Buck looks at him for a second. Takes in his wet hair, and a soaked hoodie, and the dark circles under his eyes. The uncertainty in his gaze. How he stands in his doorway, cold and soaked, and doesn’t run away. How he meets Buck’s eyes. How he is finally, finally here.

“You can leave all that in the living room. Give me a sec, I’ll find you a new shirt. Do you want a shower?”

Tommy’s mouth curves in a tiny, hesitant smile.

“Thanks. It would be nice to feel warm again.”

Buck is feeling very nervous. It’s not unusual in and of itself, he had anxiety before he came out of the womb, but today is different. He is sitting in the driver’s seat of his truck, parked right next to the very familiar driveway. He has a small light blue gift bag in his lap. His fingers are quietly messing with the bag’s handles, and his right foot is tapping an unfamiliar beat into the floor. He has been sitting here for a very long time now. Upside: he gets to see the sunset now. Downside: his ass is sore from the lack of movement and his brain is taking every opportunity to overthink what he is doing to high hell. 

He is not catastrophizing. He is being very rational and trying to think ahead. He spent a long time preparing for today, from the formation of the idea three weeks ago to shopping for materials on his day off, to sneaking around the station with the supplies to work on his gift between calls. Hen has been giving him The Look for at least the last three shifts. She had looked ready to ask him about it the last time he saw her yesterday, but he had been blessed with the call dropping on them right that second. He didn’t even mind the overtime. 

Buck is feeling very nervous. So nervous, in fact, that he doesn’t notice another presence outside his car until someone is knocking on his window. Well, shit. 

“Hey, kid. I absolutely do not mind you sleeping on my front lawn, but if you’d rather come in and use the perfectly comfortable guest bed that we already set up for you, I think your back would be happier.” 

Bobby sounds amused. He has that glint in his eyes that tells Buck he spotted the truck at least an hour ago and has been waiting for Buck to finally come in. Buck’s fingers immediately stop messing with the handles and he rushes to open the car door. 

“Hey, Pops. I was just in the neighbourhood, and thought I would stop by. You know how it goes.” 

Bobby tilts his head to the side, and his eyebrows slowly gain altitude. He makes a show of looking at his watch and at the indisputably beautiful sunset down the street. Buck can feel his back sticking to the car seat with sweat. 

This was a bad idea. He should have stayed at home, and pretended the thoughts and ideas did not bother him, and that he didn’t imagine a perfect scenario of how this would go at least seven million times in the last three weeks. Bobby tilts his head further, and Buck can feel the blush rising from under his shirt to the very tips of his ears. 

“As I said, the guest bed is all made up and ready for you. I just started with the risotto if you’re feeling like giving me a hand.” 

Bobby pointedly puts his hand on the frame of the car door, telling Buck that running is no longer an option. Buck swallows, clears his throat. Swallows again. 

His hand grips the handles of the light blue gift bag in his lap. He spent at least fifteen minutes agonizing over the color of the bag while at the store. Yellow seemed like an obvious choice, it’s warm and it’s hard not to smile when looking at it. But something was off. Then he looked at the classic black and white. That felt too formal and not personal enough. Green reminded him of Christmas, pure white was bland and boring, pink felt too much like a joke, even though he knew that Bobby would never judge him for loving the perfect baby pink shade. 

He looked at the bags with patterns, bags with glitter, bags that said “Happy Birthday!” and “It’s a boy!” on them. He considered giving up and bringing his gift wrapped in parchment paper as an ode to all the baking lessons Bobby has given him over the years. Then he saw the most perfect light blue shade, in a perfect size. Something about it spoke to him. The color of the summer sky in the early morning, reminding him of all those conversations he shared with Bobby during slow shifts when neither of them could sleep. The deep and the meaningless, ranting about drivers in LA that have never heard of driver’s ed or talking about being raised by parents who probably should never have had children. Buck bought the bag before he could talk himself out of it again. 

He feels the top of the bag crumple under his iron grip now that he is slowly exiting the car. He knows that there is no way on Earth this will go wrong, Bobby would never do that to him, but something inside his brain still screams for him to abort the mission and pretend that he really was just in the neighborhood. Buck feels Bobby’s hand land on his shoulder as it leaves its place on the car door and it grounds him almost immediately. 

This is Bobby. This is his captain, and his mentor, and his closest friend. There is no reason to worry, because it’s just Bobby, and Bobby will love him no matter what. He exhales. 

“Thanks for the invitation, I think I’ll take you up on that.” He swallows, steps from one foot to the other. Forces himself to meet Bobby’s eyes. “Hey, uh. This is… This is for you.” 

He feels his heart drop out of his pant leg as he extends the bag forward into Bobby’s arms. Bobby, for his part, looks completely unbothered. He makes a small curious noise and raises the bag all the way up to his face, as if trying to sniff what is inside of it. Buck can’t help but giggle, and Bobby gives him a look over the top of the bag, telling him that this was the goal all along. 

“Thank you. You know I don’t need a bribe to allow you to perform free labor in my kitchen, right?” Bobby’s tone is joking, but his face is that same face he gives Buck whenever he says something a little too self-deprecating. Like he knows that Buck is too deep inside his head again and may need a rescue operation. He lowers the bag back down, and wraps his other arm around Buck’s shoulders. “You can help me pick the wine for the risotto while I check this out.” 

The house is warm and smells vaguely of old books and brown butter. Buck takes a second to take it in, to take a deep breath and finally unclench his jaw. This is a safe space. It’s going to be okay. 

They slowly proceed to the kitchen, and Bobby presses the pause button on his small kitchen speaker to restart the music. It’s something soothing, with a lot of piano and a soft female voice crooning about time long gone. Buck immediately goes to wash his hands before assessing the vegetables laid out before him. He just finishes peeling off the first carrot when he hears the tell-tale crinkle of the gift bag being open. He swallows again. 

“‘To the best dad, with love.’” Bobby sounds confused but entertained as he opens the card. 

Buck can’t stop fidgeting with the vegetable peeler. He knows exactly what is written in that card. He agonized over the words even longer than he agonized over the gift that would go along with them, spent countless hours going through every sentence he could think of to express how much Bobby means to him and how much he is appreciated, discarding one option after the other because it never felt like enough. It felt like the English language did not have enough words to say what Buck wanted to say. Just saying “Thank you, I love you” felt stupid and incomplete, but the more he tried to elaborate the more he scared himself. What if he overshares again? What if his vulnerability is not reciprocated? What if Bobby doesn’t feel even a fraction of what Buck feels every day? It would make for a very awkward dinner. 

He settled on making a rough draft with everything he wanted to say, and pulling out the best parts for the actual card. It took him a few tries, but he finally felt like he got it down. He managed to fit everything into four neat paragraphs, dedicating each one to a separate thank you that he wanted to tell Bobby. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for understanding me. Thank you for loving me despite and because of everything I am. His hands shook as he signed the card with “I love you, Cap. -Your resident stray kitten, Buck.” 

Now that he can see Bobby reading the card in real time, he has a lot of regrets. He should’ve mailed it instead of bringing it in person. He should’ve chosen a different card. He should’ve never written it in the first place because all of this was one huge mistake and their relationship will never recover. He pays close attention to Bobby’s face, but the man is completely unreadable at this point. He doesn’t look angry or upset, and Buck counts that as a win, but beyond that he has no idea what is going through Bobby’s head. 

Bobby silently closes the card and puts it on the counter in front of him. Buck feels like he stopped breathing about ten minutes ago. He helplessly watches as Bobby pulls out the rest of the gift out of the bag. 

It’s a small, light purple crocheted octopus with blue and pink tentacles. It has huge black plastic eyes and a stitched-on smile. It’s wearing a small brown bucket hat that Buck saw in the pet section of the store and could not walk past. The octopus looks very much like a hand-made project from a toddler, and Buck feels like he is ready to cry. 

“Did you learn how to crochet without telling me?” Bobby’s voice is light and kind, no judgement in sight, but Buck still feels like he’s been put under a microscope. 

“Uh.” Great. He lost his ability to speak too. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” 

He puts the vegetable peeler down and takes a step towards Bobby, still paying close attention to his frustratingly neutral, hard to read face. 

“I saw a pattern online when looking into the history of fiber arts and it seemed like something you would like, but I didn’t want to buy it because everyone can do that.” He lowers his eyes and forces himself to take a deep breath. “I wanted it to be personal. You… You mean a lot to me, and I thought I could show you that by learning something new for you. I know it doesn’t look all that gre-” 

His speech is interrupted by Bobby closing the distance between them and pulling him into his chest. Oh. Oh. Maybe it was okay, after all. 

Bobby squeezes him like there is no tomorrow, and Buck can swear he feels a small kiss being placed on his forehead. Oh. 

His arms finally catch up with his brain, and he rushes to squeeze Bobby right back. The desire to cry is back, but now it’s not out of desperation but out of sheer relief that hits his entire body like the tsunami all those years ago. Bobby understood. Bobby once again looked at Buck and saw exactly what Buck was trying to say, without Buck having to step on his own throat and spell it out. Bobby understood him, and he accepted him too. Oh. 

“I love you too, kid. You don’t have to thank me for that. You’re so easy to love. Even when you drive me up the wall with all the stupid stunts you pull, it’s really hard to be mad at you for long.” Bobby squeezes him one last time, before putting a hand back on his shoulder and gently pushing him away to look him in the eyes. His expression is still neutral, but the tearful shine in his eyes gives him away. “I need you to get it, Buck. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I’m here for you, for as long as God has given me. Okay?” 

Buck breaks the eye contact and pushes his face back into the crook of Bobby’s neck.

***

It starts out simple. Tommy wakes up to a heavy weight on his chest and insistent purring in his face. When he opens his eyes, he is met with a lot of fur and a few little kisses from Tedward the Tabby. He instantly forgives her for waking him up.

The bed beside him is empty, but the sheets are still warm. He stretches as wide as he can and winces at all the loud popping his body produces. His movement dislodges the cat perched on his chest, and she gives him a nasty look for his troubles.

“Sorry, Princess Stinker. Dad’s really gotta pee.”

His voice is low and rumbly from sleep, and he can feel an involuntary smile stretching across his face. Today seems to be a good day.

He trips over a little chicken-shaped cat toy on the floor as he leaves the bathroom. He bends over to pick it up and puts it in a little wicker basket in the corner of the hallway where the rest of her toys live. When he straightens back up he realizes that the whole house smells like coffee and waffles. He smiles again.

Tedward leisurely strolls out of the bedroom to his left and rubs against his ankles. He knows it’s a malicious manipulation tactic and this is her way of demanding breakfast, but he still spends a minute scratching her behind her tiny ears.

Once she gets bored of his affection and too hungry to stay quiet, they move towards the kitchen together. Tommy stops in the doorway, just taking in the scene in front of him. Evan is covered in warm morning glow from the windows, his curls are all over the place and he is still blissfully shirtless. The apron of the day seems to be the “Kiss The Chef” one, and Tommy takes a step forward to follow the command.

“Morning, love. Why’d you leave me all alone on this fine day?”

He wraps his arms around Evan’s waist and puts his head over Evan’s shoulder to watch him pour the syrup over freshly done waffles. Evan is warm, soft and almost pliable in his arms.

“Liar. Teddy was there with you the whole time.”

“The stinker was there to demand breakfast, not to provide love. I can’t believe you would do something like this on our very own day off together. What kind of partner are you?”

Evan’s smile feels brighter than the sun itself. He smells like their laundry detergent and something uniquely him. Tommy steps flush to Evan’s back and reaches up to kiss his cheek. He can’t quite reach the birthmark from his spot, but it’s okay. There will be time for that later.

“A very loving one. I made breakfast, and your atrocious, disgusting, foul abomination of a coffee is ready too.”

“Hey now. A man is allowed to love a little sugar in his drink.”

“If you google the definition of type two diabetes, the recipe for your coffee is the first thing that pops up.”

Tommy smiles.

“Rude. You’re so rude to me, for no reason. I demand a divorce.”

“How many times this week have you demanded that? Sounds like a ton of paperwork to me.”

Evan makes a little noise of surprise when Tommy spins him around and puts his hand around his face. They spend a long second with their foreheads pressed together, just looking each other in the eye and grinning as wide as they can. Evan brings his arms around Tommy’s neck and leans in to finally kiss him good morning.

“Plan for the day: breakfast, brushing teeth, being a vegetable. Then maybe we can squeeze a little cuddling somewhere in there.”

“I second that motion. Onward with the plan, my liege.”

“You’re so freaking weird. I think I kinda like you.”

“I would be pretty upset if you didn’t. The custody battle over Stinker sounds exhausting.”

“She would pick you and you know it.”

“I was trying to make you feel better.”

Evan gently shoves him back and returns to his waffles. They spend a few minutes setting up the table, casually brushing against each other at every opportunity. Evan uses every chance he gets to plant a kiss somewhere on Tommy’s face, and Tommy can’t help but smile like an idiot.

They make sure to put some food in Tedward’s bowl so she doesn’t scream bloody murder as if she has never been fed in her life. Sometimes Tommy misses her first few weeks at their house, when she didn’t have an attitude yet and was just a sweet little furball hungry for ear scratches. He wouldn’t trade her for the world.

***

They sit down to have breakfast, and Tommy zones out a little just trying to enjoy the moment. He tunes back in once he realizes Evan is actively explaining something to him.

“So anyway, that got me thinking about maggots, and I looked into it and apparently maggot therapy is a thing? They put maggots on your body so they can eat all the necrotic tissue and the wound can heal properly. Kinda like that pedicure with the tiny fish, but for medical purposes.”

“Is it FDA approved?”

“Surprisingly, yes! But that’s normal for the FDA, they approve cheeses that are two polymer chains away from being pure plastic.”

“You love American cheese.”

“I very much do not, thank you. It’s an abomination. Which reminds me, did you know that male anglerfish will bite onto the female and then just melt all their organs so only gonads are left and the female can reproduce when she pleases?”

“I did not know that. Do they just exist to reproduce?”

Tommy takes a sip of his “disgusting” coffee.

“I think so, which is a fun way to live! Also, did you know coffee was discovered by goats?”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Well, the legend goes that goat farmers in Ethiopia were just raising their goats and minding their business when they noticed that the goats were acting all kinds of crazy. So they investigated and found out they were eating this new random kind of bean plant.”

“As goats tend to do.”

“Yeah! And when the farmers made soup out of that bean plant they discovered all the fun properties of caffeine and that’s where coffee comes from.”

“You mean to tell me that the thing I’m currently drinking, which has a perfectly normal amount of sugar in it, started out as a soup?”

“Maybe we should try that some time. Last time I checked there were a ton of recipes for coffee soup.”

Tommy winces.

“Sorry, baby. I’ll pass on this one.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing!”

***

They do the dishes together. Tommy washes, Evan dries. The pasta sauce from yesterday’s dinner stubbornly refuses to come off the bowl in Tommy’s hands, and he makes sure to spray some water on Evan when he laughs at him.

***

They brush their teeth together. The water fight continues, and by the end of it they’re both soaked. Evan has toothpaste foam all over his chin, and he is grinning like a lunatic while trying to drown Tommy in the sink. Tommy can’t wait to kiss him stupid.

“Did you know the very first toothbrushes were invented in 3500 BC? But the interesting part is that dentistry has been around for way longer than that. Like 3000 years longer than that. It’s one of the most ancient medical practices there is.”

It sounds like total gibberish when Evan says it because his mouth is still full of foam, but Tommy has been around for long enough to decipher any kind of Evan rant, be he half-asleep, with his mouth full, or going at lightning speeds. Tommy loves the sound of his voice.

***

After a long and minty kiss, they separate to each do their own chores. Evan can’t stand the process of folding laundry, and Tommy hates the loud noise of the vacuum, so a long time ago they decided to divide and conquer.

Tommy puts special care into every fold of Evan’s favorite hoodie. It’s huge, big even on Tommy’s frame, and a nice powdery blue color that always seems to calm Evan down. It’s been washed so many times that it is soft and worn down, and Tommy buries his face in it for a second, just to breathe in the laundry detergent and take in the softness.

Tedward the Princess comes to visit him at some point, probably trying to hide from the noise of Evan's vacuum. Tommy completely understands her. He has his own noise-cancelling headphones on, listening to the playlist Hen shared with him the last time they hung out.

“Would you like to share my music, your majesty?”

She ignores him and jumps up on the bed, rubbing her body all over the clean, freshly folded laundry. She ends up in Tommy’s lap, purring up a storm and clawing at the strings of his hoodie. He decides that an event like this warrants a break, and spends as long as she’ll let him just petting her. She is a stinker, but he loves her more than words can describe.

***

Tommy meets Evan in the living room, surfing channels and casually picking at the hole in his sock. He bends down to kiss the top of his head and heads into the kitchen to think up a lunch. He calls out to Evan to ask what he feels like eating, and takes out their fancy bowls when he hears the response.

“You are such a basic bitch. Vanilla and cookies and cream, really?”

“At least my ice cream doesn’t taste like toothpaste, Evan.”

“That’s not what mint chocolate chip tastes like at all, and you know it!”

“Do I?”

“I demand a divorce.”

“I think we already had this conversation today.” Tommy leans in to kiss Evan’s cold and toothpaste-tasting mouth. “Maybe consider postponing your demand until tomorrow.”

“I think I could be persuaded.”

Evan pulls him in closer and then proceeds to quickly and efficiently get into his lap. The kiss turns dirty and heated in a matter of minutes, and Tommy gets up with Evan still in his hold to get to the bedroom. He makes sure to kick the door closed to not disturb the cat.

***

In the aftermath, Evan, still sweaty and blushing, with his hair even more disheveled than before, turns to him and says:

“Did you know Bhutan was the last country worldwide to legalize TV? They did it in the nineties. Something about preserving their national culture first.”

“Sounds reasonable to me. I would expect nothing less from a country that was populated so many thousands of years ago.”

“True. Also, did you know Venus is the only planet that rotates clockwise?”

Tommy has long since stopped being fazed by Evan’s erratic way of thinking. He knows his mind is moving at speeds his mouth cannot catch up with, and he loves their little disorganized and messy chats. He reaches up to finally kiss the birthmark.

“I have heard something like that. Never looked into it though. I prefer to stay within the atmosphere.”

“Nerd. But anyway, Venus’ atmosphere is so heavy that it makes it the hottest planet in the solar system, even though it’s way farther from the sun than Mercury. Isn’t it crazy?”

“You’re a nerd. Doesn’t Venus have sulfur clouds or something?”

“It does! And also, did you know that the moon is so far away from Earth that you could shove all the other planets from the system in between us and there will still be space left?”

“That’s bonkers. We should make a poster about that.”

***

Tommy finds himself leaving Evan on the couch with his book on the history of air ambulance services in the United States as he heads into the garage to tinker with his neighbor’s old Chevy for a few hours.

He gets lost in changing oil and testing the noisy suspension when he looks up to see Evan in the doorway to the house, just standing there and looking at him.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

“Mind joining me in the shower?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Give me five to finish up here.”

Tommy does a quick job of putting his tools in all the right places before he cleans his hands as best as he can and joins Evan in the bathroom.

The mirror is already fogged up from the hot water running in the shower, and Evan is waiting for him in his boxers and with a small, private smile on his face.

They take their time lathering up each other’s hair with their shared citrus shampoo, and Evan goes out of his way to rub all the tension and soreness from Tommy’s back. He then turns him around to plant a few butterfly-light kisses on his chest and neck, slowly making his way up to Tommy’s face and kissing both of his eyelids before finally landing on his mouth. They spend a few minutes wrapped up in each other. Tommy can’t get enough of Evan, rubbing his hands all over his chest and shoulders. He gives him a few more kisses before shutting off the water.

***

They immediately agree on their favorite cheap pizza rolls for dinner, and then fight over what they will watch. At some point, Evan fully grabs his entire face with his hand just to say:

“You got to choose the last three times we’ve done this! Just because you’ve seen more things doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to show you!”

Tommy concedes. He immediately regrets it when he sees Evan heading for the Disney tab.

“Really, Evan? You going soft on me?”

“Shut up, you big baby. You’ll love it.”

Evan plants himself directly in Tommy’s lap and refuses to move. Tommy is not complaining.

“Ohana” means family. “Family” means no one gets left behind. But if you want to leave, you can.

I’ll remember you though. I remember everyone that leaves.

“Baby, are you crying?”

Tommy rubs the tears off his face and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He still remembers walking out of the apartment after ruining all his chances for a happy life because he got scared. He still remembers the weeks spent in a rut, living between work and home, with no friends to invite and no dates to put in his calendar. He never wants to go back to that time.

He never wants to see that level of heartbreak on Evan’s face ever again.

“C’mon, Tommy. Come here. I got you.”

Evan moves to the side and brings Tommy to his chest. He rubs his hands over Tommy’s arms and kisses the top of his head. Tommy can’t bring himself to look at him. He hides his face in Evan’s neck and turns back towards the TV to see Stitch declare that his family is little and broken, but still good. He sniffs and reaches out to grab Evan’s hands, interlocking their fingers.

“I forgave you a long time ago. You didn’t do anything wrong, it was a simple miscommunication. We’re okay, baby. You’re not alone. You will never be alone again.”

Evan presses his lips to Tommy’s forehead.

“I got you. You’re okay. I got you.”

Tommy finds himself finally believing him.

***

They leave clean-up for tomorrow and slowly make their way to the bathroom to brush their teeth together again. Evan is in the middle of a true crime story about some guy who kept his whole town in fear but couldn’t be prosecuted because of course he couldn’t. Evan is trying his best to brush his teeth and explain that the guy ended up getting shot by someone from the crowd, and it’s working as well as anyone would expect. It’s okay. Tommy is fluent in Evan.

The sheets are warm once again as they get settled for the night. Tommy still feels a little raw and vulnerable, so he curls up on his side of the bed and reaches behind him to pull Evan around himself like a warm weighted blanket. Evan doesn’t protest. Tommy feels his lips against the back of his neck.

Tedward the Stinker Princess graces them with her presence, hopping on the end of their bed, casually cleaning her paws, rolled up like a little furry donut. Tommy breathes out.

***

He can see it before he even steps out of the car. A tiny red dot and smoke all around the hunched silhouette. He jogs up the stairs to the porch swing and reaches up to take the cigarette out of Tommy’s hand.

“You know we are at a higher risk of heart and lung conditions as it is. You don’t need any extra help.”

“Why does it matter? It’s not like I’m going to be missed.” 

Buck takes a second to breathe. He looks at the dark sky and wishes for a millionth time that he could see the stars in the city. He brings the lit cigarette up to his mouth and inhales. It burns his throat, and the smoke makes his eyes water, but he calmly exhales and does it again.

“Stop. C’mon, you know it’s not good for you.”

“What’s the big deal? Everyone who matters left anyway, so it’s not like I’m gonna be missed.” 

Tommy makes a face and looks down from his spot on the swing. The night breeze is cool and gentle around them, and it feels like a perfect weather to be outside.

“I heard about what happened today. Real sorry you had to go through that. Do you wanna, uh, do you maybe wanna talk about it?” 

He takes a second to shove the cigarette into the bottom of his shoe and throw the butt into the empty beer bottle on the side table. The bottle is now not recyclable, and he takes a second to feel bad about it. 

“What are you doing here, Evan? It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”  

Tommy sounds defeated. He sounds like he’s given up on anyone coming to him. His voice is low, calm and steady, and there is such a deep yearning in his tone that makes Buck’s chest hurt. 

“Just because you broke up with me doesn’t mean I no longer care about you. You’re… You’re still important to me and I, uh. I want you to feel better. As much as possible, considering the.. Considering the circumstances.” 

Buck takes a step forward. Then another one. He slowly walks around Tommy and sits down on the other side of the swing, slowly pushing off the floor with his legs to set the swing in motion. He looks at Tommy. He looks at the old, worn down hoodie with a hole by the neckline that he remembers stealing when he had his own bad days, and he looks at the old navy sweatpants that used to have a drawstring before it fell out in the washing machine and Tommy never bothered to put it back in. He suddenly realizes that Tommy is barefoot, with no socks on. It’s gotta be too cold for that.

“She had crush syndrome. Went into acute kidney failure before we even got to her. By the time we brought her in, most of her organs were dead. Nothing we could do.”

Tommy was on ground ops today, and 217 was called for an apartment building collapse downtown. It took several hours to get to the people trapped under the rubble, and one woman was pinned under a large piece of concrete the entire time. Both of her legs developed compartment syndrome, and the rest of the crush injuries did not help her situation. Tommy was the one to spend hours talking to her and keeping her calm while they worked to make a hole in the remaining walls so they could bring her out. She went unresponsive by the end of the rescue and coded in the doors to the emergency department. They could not bring her back. Buck watches as Tommy calmly takes another cigarette out of the pack. He doesn’t stop him this time. 

“You did everything you were supposed to do. You kept her company. She, she wasn’t alone in her.. Her final moments, you know? That’s a big deal. You did good today.”

Tommy exhales the smoke and the breeze blows it away from Buck’s face.

“Doesn’t feel very good. Feels gross, in fact. I just need today to be over.” 

Tommy is still facing the floor. His shoulders are turned inward, and his usually big and muscular frame looks small and sad in the yellow porch light. There is tension in his jawline that Buck knows means he’s holding back emotions. He has one arm around his own torso, and the other is bent at the elbow holding up a cigarette. He has both of his knees pulled up to his chest and he is all scrunched up like he wishes more than anything that he could disappear. He shakes off some of the ash directly on the floor. 

Buck feels torn. He really wants to reach out and put his hand on Tommy’s forearm. He wants to give Tommy a hug. He wants to take away his cigarette and pull him inside the house, where he can give a blanket for his cold feet and make him a cup of extra strong peppermint tea. He wants to take care of this man with every cell of his body. He hugs himself to keep his arms from reaching out on their own accord. 

“You’re a phenomenal firefighter, Tommy. You know what you’re doing. You’re not alone, okay? I’m, I’m here for you. The 118 is here for you. This is a bad shift, but it’s not the end of your career. You’ve got a… A bright future ahead. You know tomorrow will be better.” 

Tommy finally raises his head to look back at Buck. His eyes are red-rimmed, and Buck can’t tell if it’s the smoke or the emotion that Tommy is still holding back from him. The desire to cradle his face and take away his pain is ripping Buck’s chest in half. 

“I appreciate you being here, Evan. Don’t feel like you have to stay for the night. I’ll be fine.” 

“Is there a chance that you’ll ever believe me when, when I say you’re not a burden? That I like you, and… Want you, just the way you are? You don’t need to pretend, Tommy, it’s just me. I know I wasn’t always the best at showing it, but… I want you. And all the baggage that comes with it. I want to be here for you.” 

Buck now knows that Tommy’s eyes weren’t red because of the smoke as he watches the first tear slip out and roll down his face, getting lost in his three-day old stubble. Tommy turns away from him and finishes his cigarette in one long inhale. Buck instinctively feels bad for his lungs. He watches as Tommy throws the still lit butt into the same beer bottle. 

“I’m not your last. I’m your first.” 

His voice is no longer calm and steady. He sounds breathless and almost pitchy. Buck sends all his self-restraint into the wind and moves along the swing to pull Tommy’s curled up figure into his chest. 

“You’re an idiot. You’re my idiot. I don’t need to be with a hundred people to know that you’re the one I want. You’re it for me, okay? There’s no one else.” 

Buck makes sure to hold him tighter when he realizes just how much Tommy is shaking. It takes a few minutes, but eventually Tommy lets go and cries into the crook of Buck’s neck. His entire frame shakes with his sobs, and Buck can feel the tears rolling down into the neckline of his shirt. He could not care less. He rubs soothing circles into Tommy’s back but stays quiet. There is a thousand more things he wants to say, but today is not the day for that. 

Eventually, Tommy calms down a little. His sobs become few and far in between, and he seems to be able to finally breathe in deeply again. Buck spends another few minutes holding him. He missed this feeling more than anything. The feeling of being useful, taking care of someone, taking care of Tommy, holding this big strong man in his arms and letting him feel his feelings in peace. He tilts his head to the side and kisses the top of Tommy’s head. He takes a second to bury his face into Tommy’s disheveled curls and just breathe him in. He smells like smoke and his favorite mango shampoo. 

“I got you. You’ll be okay, baby, I got you. I got you.” 

“Please don’t leave. I don’t know how to make it until morning on my own.” 

“Nowhere else I’d rather be. I got you.” 

They spend another few minutes wrapped up around each other, just breathing each other in and letting the night air calm them down. 

“I love you, and there is nothing in this world I want to do more than hold you closer for the rest of the night, but we really should go inside and get your icicle feet under a blanket. This can’t be good for you.”

“You love me?” 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know that already. Tea and a movie?”

Buck stares at the envelope in front of him with tears in his eyes. He doesn’t want to touch it. He doesn’t want to have it. He hates, with every fibre of his being, that he needs to open it. He has never felt so much dread before. He takes a breath. He knows what this means.

***

They’re smiling too wide for the kiss to account for anything. Their foreheads are pressed together, and Tommy is looking him deep in the eyes with so much love and affection that he feels warm all over. He has never felt this safe before.

“I had fun tonight. We should do it again some time.” Buck bites on his bottom lip to try to contain his smile. It doesn’t work.

“Does Friday at seven work for you? I can come pick you up.” Tommy once again gives him a full-body once over and raises his eyebrows in that fun, flirty and carefree expression that Buck loves so much. He can’t wait until Friday.

“Yeah. Yeah, Friday works. What should I wear?”

“Evan, you would look beautiful in a trash bag. Don’t worry about it.”

Buck doesn’t.

***

The house is dark when he comes home. The only light he can see from the front door comes from the bathroom, but there are no sounds to go along with it. The bathroom door is not closed all the way. Buck knows what he will find once he gets there. He sighs.

He takes a minute to drop off his work bag in the laundry room and drink a glass of water. He checks the fridge to see if Tommy ate any of the leftovers that Buck prepared for him last night. Every container is in its place, with all the sticky note labels left untouched. Tommy wasn’t here today. Buck sighs again.

He slowly makes his way down the hall towards the bathroom. He really doesn’t want to confirm what he thinks he will find there, but there is no way around it. He opens the bathroom door all the way.

The smell of booze and vomit is the first thing that hits him. He doesn’t let it faze him, he was ready for it. He braces himself and looks around the room. Tommy is on the floor by the toilet, out like a light, with only the slow rise and fall of his torso to prove that he’s even still alive. Buck sighs for the third time.

He takes a minute to compose himself before reaching out and lifting Tommy from the floor. Quiet, nonsensical mumbling is all he gets in response. He takes care not to jostle Tommy too much and not hit his head against anything in the tiny room. Slowly, he carries Tommy’s unconscious body to the bedroom.

He drops him off on the bed and carefully removes the vomit-covered hoodie from his body. He leaves the pants where they are because he just doesn’t have it in him to care anymore. He wraps Tommy up in their comforter and gives him a long, drawn-out kiss on the forehead. He misses him so much.

He is just so tired.

***

“What do you mean you’ve never baked cookies before? You’re telling me you haven’t had a single warm, homemade, delicious cookie in your entire life?” Buck knows he sounds incredulous, but he just can’t quite believe it. The man he loves so much has never had a good cookie. Buck wants to find Tommy’s parents and hunt them for sport.

“Evan, it’s okay. I know your cookies are way better than the store-bought stuff. You don’t have to convince me.” Tommy is pressed against his back, with his arms wrapped around Buck’s waist, and speaking directly into Buck’s neck. He sounds almost sleepy. Buck supposes it’s fair, he just came off a 24-hour shift with almost double the usual call volume. It still doesn’t excuse the fact that he doesn’t know what a good cookie tastes like.

“Tommy, darling, light of my life. This is absolutely unacceptable. I can’t let you go on like this. This is not a good life that you deserve.” Buck wiggles out of Tommy’s hold and grabs his hand to pull him towards the kitchen. “We are fixing it right now. This is non-negotiable. You need to expand your horizons, love, I promise it will be worth it!”

Tommy smiles to himself as he follows after Buck into the kitchen.

***

Tommy silently holds up a piece of paper in front of Buck’s face. It takes a second for Buck to realize Tommy wants him to read it. He puts his book down.

“What do you mean you got a DUI? Do you know what this means for your career?!” Buck actually can’t believe what he is reading. Tommy was always so caring and careful, so thoughtful in the way he interacted with the world. The Tommy Buck knows would never jeopardize someone’s health and safety like this. The Tommy Buck loves would never drive drunk.

Just as silently, Tommy takes the paper out of Buck’s hands and steps away from the couch. His face is blank and emotionless, and his entire body is turned inward, like he is trying to appear smaller. He doesn’t look back at Buck as he leaves the room.

Buck can feel the tears coming up. He feels helpless. Worthless. Dirty and lost. He feels so much and yet so little. He catches the first sob before it can leave his mouth. He feels devastated. He is losing Tommy, and there is nothing he can do.

***

The blanket underneath them is warm and fuzzy. Buck can still taste the sweetness of the cheesecake they just shared. The comfort of Tommy’s hand in his own is grounding against the happiness Buck feels that makes him almost floaty. He turns his head to the side.

“You’re actually so beautiful. It’s almost criminal. I think someone should lock you up for how pretty your face is.”

“You’re the one to talk, Evan. Have you seen yourself lately?” Tommy also turns his head from the sky towards Buck, and he brings their interlocked hands up to his mouth to kiss Buck’s knuckles. The butterflies in Buck’s stomach almost make him nauseous.

Buck feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s just him and Tommy, and their warm fuzzy blanket, covered by the dome of stars and moonlight. It might be the wine talking, but Buck feels like he could spend the rest of his life in this little corner they found for themselves without moving and he would be happy.

***

Buck looks around the room and tries his best to recognize the house he is in. There are piles of washed and unwashed laundry mixed together in every corner. There are so many empty bottles. A thin layer of dust covers every surface, and the air he breathes in feels heavy. He doesn’t know where Tommy is, Tommy stopped telling him where he was headed months ago. He doesn’t know if he should stay up waiting or give up and get some rest.

He knows he won’t be able to fall asleep until he feels the familiar warmth of Tommy’s arms wrapped around him.

The kitchen sink is overflowing with dirty dishes, and there is no empty space on the counters anymore. Buck considers turning on the music but decides not to. He rolls up his sleeves and gets to work.

He is tired. He is just so very tired.

***

“DId you know endometriosis can cause pneumothorax?” Buck knows that talking with his mouth full is bad etiquette, but he has been bursting with desire to share the information ever since he found out.

“I’m not sure I follow the logic. How can extra tissue around the uterus cause a collapsed lung?” Tommy, like a polite gentleman he is, makes sure to ask his question before he takes a bite out of his own sandwich.

Buck swallows before responding.

“It’s called catamenial pneumothorax and it’s like. Super rare.” He takes a sip of his very self-indulgent chocolate milkshake. “No one knows why it happens, but the link between endometriosis and pneumo was proven a long time ago.”

Buck looks up when he feels Tommy’s hand on his face.

“You got a bit of salad dressing around your mouth.” Tommy is very gentle when he wipes it off with his thumb. “That’s better.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I’m so glad I don’t have a uterus.”

“Me too, dear. Me too.”

***

They’re in the living room together for the first time in weeks. Tommy is curled up on the other side of the couch, silently looking at the floor. The TV is playing some stupid procedural that neither of them are paying attention to. The lights are off, and the house is otherwise silent.

“Please, Tommy.” Buck’s voice shakes like an autumn leaf. “Therapy is a thing. There is help out there, there are people out there who are rooting for you. You- you just have to be open to it.” There are tears in his eyes. This is the fourth time this week that they are having this conversation. This monologue. Tommy doesn’t look up.

Buck slowly gets up from the couch. He wipes his nose with the sleeve of the stolen hoodie that feels like the last bit of comfort he will ever get. He sniffs, looks at Tommy’s hunched frame. He begs for Tommy to look at him. Silence is all he gets in response.

***

“Do you ever think of what your future husband is doing?” Buck does his best to juggle the phone pressed to his ear and all the grocery bags he just took out of the trunk. He locks the car and makes his way across the street towards his building.

“I don’t know. What are you doing right now?” Tommy sounds playful, but there is an undercurrent of seriousness in his voice. His voice is joking, but Buck can tell he means it.

“You smooth fucker. I was planning on making Spanish rice for dinner, but now I’m on my way to your place, where I can explain to you in detail exactly what I’m doing.”

“I’m looking forward to that. I will leave the door unlocked. Love you.”

The line disconnects and Buck takes a second to breathe. He loves him too. So much.

***

He finds Tommy at the kitchen table, sitting up for once, with a half-finished bottle of whiskey in front of him. Tommy’s face is closed-off and emotionless. He is moving the glass in his hand from left to right in some sort of rhythmical motion. He doesn’t look up when Buck steps into the room.

“I take it your day did not go as planned.” Tommy was supposed to go out for a walk today to clear his head. He was supposed to take in the nature and maybe pet a dog or two. He clearly did none of those things.

Tommy just hums in response and reaches out to get himself more whiskey. Buck takes the bottle away from him and immediately pours the rest of it in the kitchen sink. Tommy makes a quiet, sad sort of noise but doesn’t protest.

“Have you thought about therapy at all? We could get you on some medications to help with the healing process.” Buck is desperately grasping at straws at this point. “You could talk to Bobby, he would be totally happy to help you.”

Tommy looks down on the counter in front of him. He doesn’t acknowledge if he even heard what Buck just said. Buck takes note of how much weight he has lost in the last few weeks. His already defined jawline looks sharp enough to cut glass. His cheeks and eyes are sunken in, void of their usual colors. He has a patchy beard that seems to never go away these days. The lines around his eyes look deeper. Darker.

“Please, Tommy. We can’t live like this.”

Buck is not surprised when silence is all he hears.

***

Buck is sweaty in places he didn’t know could sweat. He doesn’t want to know how bad the socks on his feet are by this point. The tank top he is wearing clings to his entire back in a pool of sweat and heat. He looks, smells, and feels disgusting.

“I think that was the last of the boxes. Remind me whose idea it was to move in in the middle of the summer again?” Tommy is not doing much better in the sweat department, but unlike his own body, Buck finds the shine on the visible part of Tommy’s chest hot as fuck. He takes a second to appreciate the view.

“I’m pretty sure the exact words you said to me were ‘Let’s do it. As soon as humanly possible. I want you in my house yesterday, sweetheart,’ but I could be wrong. This is all your fault.” Buck bends down to grab the water bottle he left by the stairs to the patio. The water got hideously warm by this point, but he couldn't care less.

Tommy steps up to stand close to him.

“But aren’t you glad you’re here now?” He gets up on his toes to kiss the top of Buck’s head, and then presses even closer to kiss his birthmark. “Don’t know about you, but I am really looking forward to waking up with you tomorrow morning.”

Buck smiles. He is looking forward to that too.

***

He gets drunk off his ass, alone in a dirty and dark dive bar somewhere in Orange County. He sleeps in the back seat of his car, with Tommy’s old jacket as a blanket and the familiar smell as a lullaby. He has never felt so alone in his life.

He wakes up to 3% left of his phone battery and a single text from Tommy that reads “?”.

No missed calls. No other words.

On his way back home, he begins to think of the plan. He can’t go on like this. He physically cannot take it anymore. He does his best to ignore the tears that blur the road in front of him. He does his best not to dream of driving straight into the highway divider full speed.

***

They’re in the shower together, getting ready for their respective shifts, and Buck pauses the process of lathering up the shampoo in Tommy’s curls to ask a very important question.

“So… What is your favorite dinosaur?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one. I don’t think anyone asked for my favorite dinosaur in the last thirty-five years or so.”

“Tommy. Tommy. This is very important. There is a right answer to that question, and you are being tested right now. I need you to pass, or this whole relationship is ruined.”

“Well in that case… Technically it’s not a dinosaur. But it is a reptile.”

“I’ll allow it, but you are on thin ice, dear.”

“They’re called quetzalcoatlus. They’re the-”

“Biggest thing to ever fly!” They finish the sentence together, and Buck jumps up excitedly. He immediately regrets it when he slips and almost falls face first, but Tommy is there to catch him.

They end up with their chests pressed together, faces inches apart, both warm and soapy.

“Did I pass?” Tommy’s voice is lower and rougher than just seconds before. Buck suddenly feels so hungry.

“I’ll think about it. Give me five.” He slowly gets down on his knees. The distinction between prehistoric reptiles and dinosaurs is the last thing he is worried about right now.

***

He looks at the man in front of him. The man he loves so much it hurts. The man who owns his entire heart, his very soul. The man who is sinking, and dragging Buck along.

He doesn’t remember when it started. When the crack in Tommy’s psyche got so deep and dangerous. When they lost the connection they used to have. He doesn’t remember when it started, but he can see so clearly when and how it will end.

***

It’s their first anniversary, and Buck is more nervous than he’s even been. Tommy will be home in less than an hour, and he just burned their dinner. He can feel the beginnings of a panic attack building up, and he doesn’t know what to do. He takes a breath. Then another one.

The casserole is absolutely not salvageable. All he has now is the layer cake he made for dessert and the fancy wine he got from Karen. He doesn’t know what to do.

He takes out his phone.

“Hey-hey, Bobby. Are you… are you busy r-right now?”

“Hey, kid. I have a few minutes if you need me. You sound off, is everything okay?” Buck hates how transparent he is. He hates that Bobby can tell he is nervous immediately. He wishes they didn’t need this conversation, but he is completely out of options.

“I was… I was making dinner for the- for the anniversary, which is today, and it’s- it’s very important, right? And I made this fancy cake with the new frosting recipe, which I greatly recommend, by the way, and I got the- the wine in the fridge to be ready, and… and I tried to… Tried to-”

Buck cannot breathe.

“Easy, kid. Take a breath, count to four with me. You’re okay. One… I’m with you. Two. Hold it. Three. Almost made it… Four. Breathe out.” Buck lets out a shaky breath. He focuses all of his attention on Bobby’s voice. “Alright. Now. Tell me what it is that you tried to do.”

“I tried to- tried to make the casserole you… You showed me last week. The flavor combination was great, and it wasn’t very heavy so there would still be space for- for dessert. I wanted that. So I tried m-making it, and I fucking burned it. Bobby, it’s completely ruined! And Tommy will be back in- in less than an hour, and there is no time, and I don’t know what to do, and I feel like a- a complete failure! This is all my fault, and I should’ve nev-”

“Buck. Easy. Take another breath. You’re okay. Do we need to count to four again?”

“N-no, no, I’m… I’m good.”

“I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. Tommy has heart eyes the size of Jupiter when he looks at you. You could serve him the dirt from your backyard and he would thank you. The man is so far gone for you it’s almost funny.” Bobby pauses, and Buck can hear him say something softly. He’s probably talking to Athena. “Tell you what. How about you order a nice, big pizza for dinner tonight, and on Sunday you’ll come in a few minutes early so I can show you the casserole again. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great, Cap. Will do. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. Happy anniversary, Buck.”

***

He takes the stack of papers out of the envelope. He reads each one through the tears. It takes him way longer than it should. A part of him wants to go out back and burn them to a crisp. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to.

Slowly, he brings his pen down to the pages. He signs and dates each line that asks for it. The tears are streaming down his face freely now, and all his signatures are weird and wobbly. He barely recognizes his own handwriting.

***

It’s their usual weekly date night, and today they decide to stay in and rot on the couch together. Both of them had an insane week so far, with hours and hours of overtime and the calls getting crazier and crazier with every day. Buck can feel the leftover tension finally leaving his body as he leans against Tommy’s chest and hides his face in the crook of his neck.

Tommy takes his time to slowly and gently work out every knot in Buck’s curls. He ends the process with a nice long kiss on the birthmark. He goes down, kissing both of Buck’s eyelids, then his cheeks, then his chin. He goes higher again and kisses the tip of his nose. Buck can feel his entire face scrunch up with a smile.

“Stop it. You’re being silly.”

“We could both use a little silly today, don’t you think?”

Instead of replying, Buck reaches up to finally kiss Tommy’s mouth. It’s soft and gentle, with barely any tongue. They’re not trying to get anywhere with it, they’re just enjoying the journey. After a few minutes, Tommy leans back and pokes Buck in the belly as he stands up.

“Wait here. I got something for you.”

“Why, though? Did I forget something important? I totally did, didn’t I?” Buck hugs himself to keep some of the comfort that is quickly leaving his body.

“You didn’t forget anything, sweetheart. You’re okay. This is just a little surprise I got for you a few weeks ago. Just wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.” Tommy’s voice is soft and gentle. It’s impossible not to listen to him.

Buck relaxes until he hears the returning footsteps in the hallway. He actually feels excited.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now. Pretty much ever since you got me that god-awful coffee on our second not-date. I saw your smile, and your bravery, and your selflessness, and thought: I need to keep him. I gotta keep him for myself.” Tommy is back, but instead of sitting back down on the couch he’s in the middle of the room, slowly lowering himself on one knee. Buck stops breathing entirely. “Evan, you’re incredible. You’re one of a kind. You’re loving and lovely, you’re sweet, you’re strong. You’re perfect in every way that counts. Here, tonight, I have just one question for you.”

“Yes.” Buck can feel the tears gathering in his eyes. He lowers himself to the floor so he is the same eye level as Tommy. He reaches for Tommy’s hand hidden in the pocket of his sweats. “Yes, Tommy. I’m saying yes.”

“You didn’t let me ask. I need you to let me ask, love.”

“Do it quicker, before I lose it.”

“Evan. Love of my life. Sweetheart. Will you marry me?”

Evan doesn’t answer. He just tumbles forward and tackles Tommy and the ring he just took out of his pocket to the floor. He doesn’t care about the tears and snot coming down his face. He grabs Tommy’s cheeks with both hands and kisses him on the mouth like a man starving. He presses his body as close to Tommy’s as he can, trying to disappear inside his ribcage. He separates their mouths for just a second, pressing their foreheads together.

“Yes. Yes. I’m saying yes.”

His voice sounds broken, but he could not feel any more healed. He sends a prayer of thanks to every higher being he can think of. He feels like the luckiest man to ever walk the Earth. He has never been so happy.

***

Tommy silently takes the pen he is offered. His face is stoic, but some kind of deep, desperate sadness is still deep inside his eyes. Just as silently he signs all the papers right next to Buck. He doesn’t look up when he’s done.

Buck feels like he might be sick. He stares at the papers in between them. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want this!

But the papers stare back at him, unblinking. Careless. Soulless. Signed by both of them.

On the third anniversary of the divorce, Buck spends his day stalking Tommy’s Instagram stories. He sees the gym selfie, where Tommy finally looks big and healthy, he sees a photo of chicken and rice Tommy had for lunch. He opens his profile and sees the post about therapy and connecting with your inner child. It’s a picture of a coffee cup and a leather-bound journal. Buck immediately recognizes the coffee shop it was taken in. He thinks back to their second not-date. He thinks back to holding Tommy’s hand. Tommy’s scrunchy smile and the kindness in his eyes. Buck feels just a little pathetic.

He has tried dating, but no matter who he went out with they never clicked. Something was always missing. Buck looks back at Tommy’s profile. There is a new story. He taps the screen to view it.

He immediately closes the app and throws his phone across the table from him. He didn’t need to see that. Tommy didn’t have to post it, especially not today. Buck folds his arms in front of him and buries his face in them. This sucks.

He reaches out to grab his phone again. Maybe it’s finally time.

***

It starts small. A skipped date here, a silent dinner there. Tommy looks tired all the time. He speaks less, stops joking. He barely responds to Buck’s texts. He stops initiating intimacy. More and more times he makes an excuse of having a few drinks with his work buddies instead of hanging out with Buck.

Buck brushes it off. It’s not that serious.

Then he finds Tommy drunk for the first time. He is passed out, halfway off the couch, snoring louder than the TV in front of him and with an almost finished bottle of liquor on the table.

Buck begins to think.

***

“H-hey, Tommy. Thanks… Thanks so much for- for answering.” Buck doesn’t know what he is doing. He can hear his own pulse. “I-I was just wondering if… If you wanted to meet up for coffee or, or lunch? For a walk, maybe? I heard great things about this hiking trail like forty minutes from your, your place. What… What do you say?” Buck feels like a complete idiot. But he misses Tommy so much it feels like a physical weight on his neck, like his breathing fully depends on Tommy’s voice. He misses him so goddamn much. “No pressure or… Or anything. It’s- it’s totally okay if you don’t feel like it. Or you’re.. Busy or something. All good.”

Buck needs to shut the hell up.

“Hi, Evan.” Buck’s heart stops for a few seconds. He can feel the tears slowly surfacing over his eyes. Hearing Evan in Tommy’s voice again feels like things might actually be okay for once. “I would love to meet up. A lot of things have changed since I saw you last, it would be great to catch up. How does tomorrow at nine at our usual spot sound like?”

Buck feels like he can breathe for the first time in years.

***

Tommy hasn’t moved from the bed the entire day. He was supposed to be at work but he either called in sick or didn’t bother to notify his captain at all. Buck sighs.

“What do you want for dinner, Tommy? We have salmon and fried rice from yesterday. And you need to have some water.”

Tommy doesn’t answer. He barely moves at all. Buck is suddenly so done with all of this.

“I don’t even know why I bother. This is bullshit, Tommy. Who covered your shift? Have you eaten anything whatsoever today? You’re acting like a moody child, and I am so fucking tired of it!”

He slams his hand against the door frame and leaves the bedroom. He immediately feels bad, but he can’t take it anymore. They haven’t properly talked in days now. It’s impossible to cohabitate with Tommy at this point. He acts like a very high maintenance house plant, with no agenda and no responsibilities.

Buck breathes out. He remembers the time when they used to have dreams. He feels so naive now. All their dreams are gone, and only nightmares are left.

***

They make it into a weekly thing. They meet up at their favorite coffee shop, sit at their favorite table in the corner by the window, chat about life. Tommy shares how he is a flying instructor at the fire academy now, and Buck feels pride bloom inside of him every time it gets brought up. Tommy also briefly mentions being in therapy. He doesn’t say it directly, but by the sound of it their divorce was the final push he needed to start. He has been sober for a long time now. There is life back behind his eyes, the patchy beard is long gone, and he smiles with his whole face again. He looks beautiful. He looks happy, healthy and alive. Buck loves him. He loves him so much.

Every time they meet, Tommy asks about everything new that happened to Buck. Buck never knows what to say. He doesn’t want to go into detail about his failed dating history, and there weren’t that many changes to his career, and all of his family is doing okay for once. He always tries to change the subject.

Tommy never lets him.

***

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Bobby. He just- he just shuts me out no matter what I try. I brought up therapy again and he didn’t even look at me.” There are tears in his eyes. That feels routine at this point. He got used to crying himself to sleep weeks ago.

“Is he drinking still? I can come over and talk to him if you’d like.”

“I don’t know what good that would do. He barely moves these days, just to pee and get a new bottle. I don’t know where they’re coming from, man, I haven’t seen him leave the house in weeks.”

“Addicts all have secrets, Buck. You’re not doing anything wrong. You are there for him and he knows it. Maybe he just needs a little stronger push in the right direction. I am sure you will figure it out.”

Buck can feel himself shake a little. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s cold or he’s hopeless.

“I’m glad someone is sure, because I just don’t know anything anymore.”

***

At some point, probably during week seven of their regular meet-ups, they graduate from just sitting opposite of each other to holding hands. Buck feels fourteen again, sweating and blushing because his crush is paying attention to him. The heart eyes the size of Jupiter are back, and Buck can’t get enough of them. They spend hours just looking at each other. Getting to know each other once again.

They’re not the same people they used to be, but their hands still fit perfectly together. Buck can feel the warmth of Tommy’s hand long after their meetings are over.

***

Usually, Buck finds him after he’s already done. This time, he comes home to the whole action taking place. Tommy is on the floor by the toilet once again, his head perched on the side of the seat, and he is being violently ill. His whole body shakes with his retching, and the smell in the room is atrocious. Buck doesn’t know how long this has been going on, but by the sound of it Tommy has a long way to go still.

Buck sits down next to him and puts his hand between Tommy’s shoulder blades. He wishes so bad that he could help somehow, make it easier on him, but there is nothing he can do. He presses a kiss to the back of Tommy’s sweaty head. The sounds Tommy is producing are painful to hear, and Buck can’t imagine how terribly it feels to actually be Tommy right now.

He whispers something sweet and meaningless in between Tommy’s retching, and stays with him until he’s done. Once he is sure there is no more vomiting coming up, he gets up to get Tommy some water.

“Evan. Evan.” Tommy’s voice is completely shot. “I love you. Hear me? Love you.”

Buck wishes so desperately that just loving someone was enough.

***

Their next first kiss is a complete accident.

They just went on a walk around the block from the coffee shop, trying to enjoy the nice weather, and now came back to the parking lot. They’re still holding hands, standing in front of Buck’s car, and Buck is dreading the moment they will have to let go of each other.

They’re chatting about muffin recipes of all things, sharing the new fillings they’ve tried in the last few years and about how their own attempts at making muffins at home are going. They’re closer than usual. Their entire arms are touching. Tommy’s patient gaze feels like a weighted blanket around Buck’s heart.

“It was really nice to see you again, Evan. I’m looking forward to next week.”

“It’s nice to see you too. I promise to bring some of my experiments with me next time so you can try them. No promises that it will be good though.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“And that is my favorite thing about you.”

“Not the arms?” The flirty eyebrows are back.

“Okay, now that you’ve brought it up, it is my second favorite thing about you.”

“Thought so.” Tommy grins at him and Buck feels butterflies come to life in his stomach. “Alright. I got a shift. Can’t exactly fly across town anymore. I’ll see you next Friday?”

“Next Friday sounds great. Drive safe.”

They lean in at the same time, so really, there’s no one to blame. One second they are standing next to each other, and the next their lips are sealed together in a small, gentle, quiet kind of kiss. It takes a second for Buck to even register that they’re doing something outside of their norm.

When he does, he flees.

***

Tommy gets fired from his job. Because of a DUI, but also because he hasn’t shown up there in a few weeks. Buck feels devastated. Tommy seems to not have any reaction at all.

“So what now?”

Tommy just silently looks at him.

“Baby, I can’t make this decision for you. You gotta get some of your shit together and choose what you’re gonna do with your life. It’s all up to you now.”

Tommy stares at him some more. Then he brings his chin to his chest and suddenly breaks all the way down. There are tears and snot running over his cheeks, and his whole frame shakes from his sobs. Buck jumps up from his chair and brings Tommy’s frail body towards his chest.

“We’ll figure it out, you hear me? Together. You’re not alone in this. I got you, Tommy. I got you.”

Tommy just continues to shake.

***

Their next meeting is awkward. Neither of them know what to say. Buck forgot all about his promise to bring muffins. They spend at least ten minutes silently looking around each other, without making any eye contact. At some point, Buck snaps.

“I-I think we should try again. I r-really do. I know- I know the first time wasn’t exactly pretty, and the second time’s ending sucked, but… I still- I still love you. I never stopped. You’re- you’re it for me, Tommy.” Buck takes a breath, finally raising his eyes to Tommy’s face. He is so scared his hands are sweaty. He doesn’t want to ruin what they have now, the last thing he wants is to scare Tommy away once again. He kicks himself for even opening his mouth today. When he finally reaches Tommy’s eyes, there is nothing but acceptance there. Tommy is paying attention. “I… I really think that… That this time will work. I just… I know it’s dumb and naive, and maybe I’m being selfish again, but- but I think this time will work. You know… Why be apart when- when we can be together?” He finally breathes out.

Tommy blinks. His eyes are still soft and loving when he looks back at Buck. He takes a deep breath and puts his hand, palm up, in the middle of the table. He glances away for a second and immediately comes back to Buck’s eyes.

“Evan.” Buck never gets tired of hearing his name coming from Tommy’s mouth. “Evan. First and foremost: I love you too. I need you to know that. I need you to understand that what I’m about to say is not about you, or my feelings for you. I just don’t want history to repeat itself.” Tommy leans back in his chair and Buck’s heart skips a beat. He looks down on their still intertwined hands. “I would love nothing more than to try again, but you need to understand something. It won’t be easy. Just because I’m doing better now doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days. I don’t want to drag you down with me again.” His voice is soft, calm and steady, like he rehearsed this speech a million times before coming here. He looks away from Buck once again.

Buck squeezes his hand and makes him come back to looking Buck in the eyes.

“I get that. I read so many books about recovery and depression, and this was the only thing I talked to my therapist about for months. I know what I’m walking into. I- I still want you. If you’ll have me. We can be better about it this time.” Buck brings his other hand to the table and sandwiches Tommy’s in between his own. “We can actually communicate, and reach out to one another when things go bad. We can do better, Tommy.”

Tommy smiles with his entire face.

***

When Buck finds him this time, he is barely breathing. There is an empty bottle of whiskey on the floor next to him, and when Evan looks closer he sees an empty pill container on the other side of Tommy’s body. He picks that up first. The label is clear: it’s his own painkillers for his recent surgery. Buck takes a deep breath and lets his training take over.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

"This is off-duty Firefighter Buckley with the 118. I need an RA unit at 8819 High Hill Road for a 44-year-old male with an acute alcohol poisoning and possible opioid overdose. Be advised, he is barely breathing. Pulse is weak but present at the radial.”

“Copy that, Firefighter Buckley. Please put the patient in the recovery position and keep an eye on his breathing. Help is on the way, stay on the line with me until they arrive.”

Buck rolls Tommy over on his side and makes sure there is nothing in his mouth. He counts the respirations. He holds Tommy’s hand. He doesn’t think about it.

The paramedics shove him out of the way so they can start an IV and give Tommy Narcan. Buck closes his eyes when they take out the bag-valve mask.

“Who are you in relation to the patient?”

“I’m his husband. I’m coming with you.”

***

Tommy was right. It isn’t easy. Some days are bad enough that Buck feels like they’re once again tethering the line of going back to their destructive habits. Some days, he feels so angry it becomes hard to breathe. Some days Tommy doesn’t leave the bed. Some days, the only way for them to communicate is ASL. Some days Tommy’s eyes get so blank Buck feels primal fear rise up in his chest. Some days Buck finds Tommy flipping his sobriety chip in his hand while longingly staring in the window for hours. Some days Tommy doesn’t say a single word.

But on the other hand. Some days they can’t stop smiling at each other. Some days they go on dates, and hold hands, and make out like teenagers. Some days Buck feels so alive he could burst. Some days they cook together after grueling shifts and share their dumb little stories from work. Some days Buck finds Tommy quietly browsing pet adoption websites and it takes everything in him not to push Tommy towards adopting.

No matter what kind of day they’re having. No matter if it’s good or bad, or anything in between. They have each other. And Buck knows deep inside that he will never give this up again.

“I do.”

“C’mon, Tommy, you’ll miss it!”

Tommy doesn’t know why he is being awakened at four something in the morning on a day off, but Evan sure sounds excited about it.

“Babe. Love. Darling. Why?”

“It’s raining out there!”

“Sounds like a perfect reason to stay here and not move to me.”

Tommy rolls over on the other side and brings a blanket over his shoulders. He was so cozy. He was having such a nice dream. The blanket is immediately ripped away from him by his loving boyfriend.

“You don’t get it! It’s raining!”

“I get precisely what you mean, sweetheart. I just don’t see how that’s a reason to leave the bed.”

Tommy still hasn’t opened his eyes.

He feels a kiss being placed on his forehead. Then on each of his eyelids. Then on his cheeks. It’s a nice feeling to wake up to. He still doesn’t get why it has to happen at four something in the morning.

“There are puddles out there, Tommy!”

“Don’t know about you, but I prefer my socks perfectly dry.”

“To-mmy.”

Evan reserves to jumping on the bed beside Tommy and shaking his shoulders. Tommy begins to realize there is no escape from this.

“I’m awake, I’m awake. What do you want?”

Tommy opens his eyes to a bedside lamp being on and Evan’s brightest smile. Evan cheers when he sees that Tommy is, in fact, awake.

“We gotta go dance! And jump in the puddles! You still owe me that dance, don’t you remember?”

Tommy sighs. He knew what he agreed to when he became Evan’s partner.

“You woke me up at four-seventeen in the morning to go dance in the rain?”

“Yes, I did.”

Evan sounds incredibly proud of himself. Tommy can’t bring himself to be mad about it.

“Alright. Give me five.”

They get dressed together, and Evan skips around the room like an over-excited puppy. Tommy loves him so much.

They leave the house together, and Evan turns on their shared playlist. He then proceeds to immediately and unapologetically jump into the very first puddle they see, splashing water all over himself and Tommy.

Tommy still can’t get mad about it.

“Lighten up, Tommy, c’mon. It’s beautiful out here!”

Tommy wouldn’t call their environment beautiful by any means. It’s dark, with the only light source being their porch light, and the air is wet when he takes a breath. Evan’s most radiant smile makes up for it.

Evan’s new favorite song begins to play, and he runs up to Tommy to put his arms around his neck.

“May I have this dance?”

Tommy can feel himself cracking, a small smile slowly appearing on his face.

“You already know I’m interested.”

He puts his arms around Evan’s waist, and they begin slowly swaying side to side together. They’re right in the middle of a giant puddle. Tommy presses his nose against Evan’s curls and closes his eyes. Despite the rain getting in his face and the bottom of his pants getting uncomfortably soggy, he has never felt more safe in his life.

His right sock is very wet.

Evan turns his head to place another kiss against Tommy’s cheek.

They press together as close as they can, so no rain can get in between them, and dance until the song is over. Tommy is not in a hurry to let go just yet.

“Just another song?”

“Or until the feeling fades.”

The moment feels like a love confession without the unnecessary words.

Tommy presses a kiss against the birthmark on Evan’s forehead. Then the tip of his nose. Then, finally, he kisses his mouth.

Evan is smiling too wide for the kiss to work, but Tommy would never complain.