Why would I sleep when instead I can stay up half the night thinking about how the first time bucktommy got in bed together (when Buck brought him back to the loft after Madney’s wedding obviously)…Tommy fell asleep immediately. Obviously. He just got off like a two day marathon shift. And Buck just kinda watched him sleep for a while and thought about how yeah, he’s not just an ally any more, is he?
BUT the next morning when Tommy woke up he and Buck had a snuggly pillow talk that eventually turns to Buck curiously asking how Tommy defined sex and surprisingly, Tommy always thought of it as specifically penetrative whereas Buck always kind of equated having an orgasm with sex. Tommy tells him there’s no pressure, they can move at whatever pace he wants. Buck grins and the next thing Tommy knows he’s on top of Buck, taking his shirt off, hands on Buck’s hips face in Buck’s neck, and Buck is realizing how much more texture there is to Tommy than anyone else he’s ever dated; he’s calloused, he’s stubbly, and the there’s the scar he finds out about.
And then they have sex à la Buck’s definition, and Tommy never again thinks that sex requires penetration.
Anyway. Happy Saturday. I haven’t had a chance to sit and finish up the stuff I’ve been working on (😭😭😭) but hopefully I will soon. Enjoy this in the meantime.
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Anywayyyy what this is happening. Part of this piece that I have left alone but got in my head again earlier this week. NSFT.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Tommy asked, his lips against Evan’s ears, neck, jaw. Evan nodded and groaned as Tommy rolled his hips.
The way he closed his eyes hit every last one of Tommy’s buttons. Evan didn’t look like he had the energy to so much as pull his shirt off; the thought sent Tommy spinning. He wanted to do exactly as Evan told him and fuck him just like this, half-clothed, half-asleep.
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Also no pressure tagging some people at the end, but also if you are reading this and you haven’t been tagged, this is my invitation to you. Please share and feel free to tag me. I would love to see it.
Okay, time for a confession. I find it wayyyy too stressful to have WIPs. So I tend not to actually commit to writing much of anything until I have the idea well formed and a roadmap for myself to actually write it. I also prefer to be working on one thing at a time. Otherwise it’s just too much for me to manage and enjoy.
Buttttt I do have a few things hanging out there, and one as yet unwritten idea.
A Sign That You Had Healed - my current baby that in the last few days thanks to @nzchance 's and @chemistry66 's encouragement might be turning into just a series of me writing all kinds of stuff about BuckTommy and what they feel about each other’s scars (and Buck’s birthmark) from being on the job.
Codas - codas my beloved. I love canon compliant/divergent stuff and building on the story that’s there. I want to keep building out a 9x13 coda. One that reconciles BT after Tommy sees Buck’s face, and one lighthearted one about Karen surprising Hen with the Napa birthday trip.
I also love post-Madney-wedding BuckTommy fics so I have a kind of idea in my head about Buck bringing Tommy back to his loft, not sure if I'll actually get around to writing it.
And this idea just exists in my brain but I saw a list a while ago of inverted fic tropes. One of them was “too many beds.” This absolutely killed me and I so seriously want to write this with BT. I think they’re on a shift and alone in the bunk room or whatever and there’s just. There’s so many beds, and it’s just the two of them. Idk. It doesn’t have a real story yet, just a vivid picture in my mind of the two of them opening the door and being overwhelmed by how many beds they could sleep in.
No pressure tags to @nzchance @thegirlinthe118bubble @kinardnatural @wee-fuckin-woo
Okay well anyway here's the next piece of Scar Sunday. Happy Sunday. Today is Sunday everyone. In all seriousness please enjoy, it is a different beat from the last few pieces, I hope you enjoy. :) I also am not sure about the direction I'm going to take my "and one time..." portion of this so if anyone wants to beta read or let me bounce ideas off of them please let me know. Tags under the cut.
Buck expended the last of his energy following Tommy through his front door. The heaviness that settled in his chest that day in the lab had only furrowed in, deeper and darker, now that Bobby’s funeral was over. His arms hung like lead pipes at his side and he stood, helpless, as Tommy gently guided him out of his jacket and nudged him down the hall. In the bedroom, Buck watched his own hands moving in slow motion as he took off his uniform and pulled on a night shirt. Even his thoughts were deadweights, dragged down into the black pit in his chest. As soon as he was done changing, he fell onto his back in the bed, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling. Just understanding he wanted to get under the blanket took a gargantuan effort.
Tommy turned the light out, climbed in bed next to Buck. “Try to sleep,” he whispered. He wrested the blanket out from under him and covered them both with it. Buck was numb; he could only vaguely tell that he was warmer now. He could hear Tommy’s breaths evening out next to him. He tried in vain to follow him into sleep, but it wouldn’t come to him. When he closed his eyes, his mind was filled with the image of the fire truck driving straight through downtown Los Angeles as the bell rang loudly.
He woke with a start. It was pitch black and he couldn’t remember falling asleep, he had no sense of how long he’d been asleep for. Until he opened his eyes, he thought he’d been at Bobby’s funeral, although it had seemed all wrong; they were in Maddie’s backyard with an empty coffin and Athena stood in a white dress, laughing. He supposed it was a dream, despite how oddly real it felt, and looked around to try and make sense of where he was. The bed, the sheets, they were familiar and not. He sat up abruptly, alert as he realized he didn’t have a clue where he was.
“Evan?” Tommy asked. He sounded as if he were still out cold; his voice was heavy and distant. Buck inhaled deeply; he did know this room. He let himself lie back down, still shaken. Tommy mumbled senselessly under his breath.
With his heart still pounding, Buck turned to curl himself around Tommy. As if there were a magnetic pull, his fingers found the familiar spot on the side of Tommy’s body, the place where his scar flickered across his chest. He rubbed it under his fingers for a minute, feeling the scar tissue catching, then slowly let his fingers trace over it, up and down. He was sad, he was hurt, he was sorry. The enormity of these things was eating away at him. But for this moment, as he breathed and touched and felt Tommy next to him, he was also strangely okay.
