we have hope or we have nothing

So they're talking and it isn't long before Buck already sounds brighter, happier, than when he first answered the phone and they both settle into their normal banter and talk about their days. Buck is in bed as they're talking, propped against the headboard, and he starts absent-mindedly fidgeting with the drawstrings, then with the hem of his boxers, and now his hand is in his boxers and he's fidgeting with his pubes.

He's not even thinking about getting off, he's just--he's got Tommy's voice in his ear in the first time in weeks and he's so relaxed, he's hardly conscious of himself putting his hand on his cock, but then it feels good and Tommy's still in his ear--chuckling at something Buck said but can't even remember now because the combination of sensations is lethal and he has to close his eyes and bite his lip so he doesn't outright moan in Tommy's ear.

And now he's chasing the dual pleasure of jacking off and having Tommy's attention on him and he thinks he's being so slick and that Tommy won't know and a few times his breath hitches and Tommy asks if he's alright and he says that he's fine and when he comes, he buries his face in the pillow and when he puts the phone back to his ear, Tommy's repeating his name and Buck lies and says there must have a connection issue.

Tommy hums in amusement and just says "goodnight, Evan" and Buck's already half-way asleep so he doesn't realize that Tommy had been in the middle of a story

This happens during a few more phone calls, Buck still oblivious to Tommy knowing and to Tommy inadvertently teasing him by working as many dirty sounding words into their conversations as he can get away with

The night before Tommy's due back to work, he calls Buck an hour later than normal and Buck's got his hand on his cock before he's barely said hello--he's been hard ever since Tommy texted him an hour before saying he'd call soon and he'd been lazily petting his cock in anticipation.

Buck asks how Tommy feels about going back to work (because he has some manners even if he is secretly getting off to Tommy's voice) and Tommy says he's looking forward to it, but he can't sleep and does Buck have any suggestions?

And Buck just blurts out, "touch yourself."

"Touch myself? Right now?"

Buck blushes. "I, uh--"

"Like you're doing?"

Buck goes still. "I--what?"

"Evan," Tommy murmurs. "Did you really think you were being discreet?"

"Yes?"

Tommy chuckles. "Yeah, not with how wet you seem to get."

"Jesus christ," Buck mutters, precum dribbling down his cock. "So you've known this whole time that I was--getting off to you?"

"Since the first call."

"And you never--"

"What?" Tommy says, voice low. "Touched myself?"

Buck's breath hitches.

"Not while you were on the phone. But it sounds like you want me to. You want to hear me get off, Evan?"

"You're teasing me."

"I'm not. I want to hear you too. You haven't let me hear you come. I bet you sound so pretty."

Buck's stomach clenches as he squeezes his cock and whines. "Tommy, please."

"Please what?"

"Please touch yourself. For me."

Tommy wraps his hand around his cock. "Then what?"

"I just want to hear you."

They jerk off together, panting and moaning into each other's ears, the only words spoken are a few blissed out yeahs and each other's name.

When Buck's breath hitches, Tommy knows he's close. "That's it, Evan. Come for me."

Buck comes with Tommy's name on his lips.

Tommy follows him over the edge.

"Think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"Mm. Think so. Can't wait to see you."

Buck hides his grin in his pillow. "Yeah, me too."

"Goodnight, Evan."

And Buck obviously never gets a call or text from Tommy and realizes he must have gotten it wrong and that Tommy didn't care to ever see or talk to him again. [When Buck moved to LA years later, he admittedly felt a pang thinking about Tommy and it was months before he stopped expecting to see him around every corner]

And now their respective friends (Simon and Eric) are getting married and they are the best men and they've never met (that they know enough), but are tangentially aware of each other in that they've heard stories (only, Tommy doesn't know that "Buck" is Evan and Buck doesn't know that "TK" is Tommy and when they are given each other's numbers that's how they save each other in their phones)

They never call each other because they work opposite shifts, so they text (and maybe email) to do any necessary planning for the joint bachelor party, but then their texts start becoming about their days and random things as well and they both start to develop a crush.

It's the night of the bachelor party and they still haven't met [just suspend disbelief with me here lol] but they're both nervous and excited to. The bachelor party is basically a long night of gay bar/club hopping (but taking separate party buses) and the first one they get to Buck and Tommy run into each other and they both stop in their tracks, half-tempted to tell the other off or ask for an explanation, but what happens instead is that they hook up in the bathroom 🤭

And when they come out of the bathroom together--grinning and bumping shoulders--who do they run into but the grooms who immediately go, "oh good, you've finally met"

Buck and Tommy are both confused for about 15 seconds until it sinks in

Tommy bumped his shoulder, took the cup and lid from him, snapping it on easily. ”You OK?”

”No.” Buck took the cup back. ”I called you daddy and made myself sad.” Tommy already knew he was weepy about it, so he wasn't subtle the next time he wiped his eyes. ”Why'd you call me baby? That's just mean.”

”Right,” Tommy said, with that dumb expression Buck could tell was on his face, just by the sound of his voice. ”Because you're the only one with feelings.”

”Hey, fuck you.”

There it was, the dumb expression – and the eyebrows. ”Sorry, I forgot. Daddy doesn't have feelings.”

Buck exhaled, as the fight went out of him. Yeah, that was fair. ”Do you need to be anywhere?”

Tommy took a moment to respond.

”No.”

Silently, Buck led them outside. All the tables were occupied, so he took them around the corner, to a patch of grass that was technically considered a park. They sat on a bench, respectable distance apart.

Buck turned the cup in his hand and carelly pushed the sleeve down enough to move. The coffee was still too hot to go without, but it was something to focus on. He spun the sleeve around the cup a couple of times, before saying, ”Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you appreciate flowery language.”

”Depends on the context.”

Buck inhaled, exhaled. Anger would get them nowhere. ”I need to be frank with you, to avoid misunderstandings, yes?”

Tommy hadn't touched his coffee either. ”I have a vivid imagination,” he said, noncommittal.

”Right. This is me doing that.” He took a second to look in the general direction of Tommy's face, instead of his knee. ”I have feelings for you. I fell hard and I fell fast. I need you to know that.”

A muscle ticked in Tommy's jaw. ”OK.”

”You said a lot of hurtful things, but that didn't change how I feel. And I know I hurt you, too.” Tommy looked up. ”I flirted with someone else on our anniversary. I told you a lot of things, without giving you the context. I didn't tell you how I feel, when I should have.”

”OK,” Tommy said.

It took everything in him, to not move closer. ”I didn't give you space to be scared. I put you in a position where you felt like you couldn't be, and I'm sorry I did that.”

”Evan–”

”No, I want you to hear this,” Buck held up his hand. ”I think I scared you. I'm not sure when or why, but looking back, I think I did things that rattled you, and I didn't give you space to talk about those things. Because we were focused on me.”

”That's– That's not entirely true.”

”Correct me, then,” Buck said. ”Because every person I've spoken to about you, focused on me, too. About it being my first time. I've been in more relationships than you, haven't I?”

”I don't see the relevance, but yes, you have.”

Tommy's hand was resting on his thigh and the temptation was too great. Buck reached out and curled his fingers around it. ”I should've treated you like a partner and not like you were this unflappable guy, who's got it all worked out.”

”Maybe I wanted you to think that I was.”

”At first, sure,” Buck said. ”But then you get the flu, or you're hungover, and you puke infront of each other, and you treat each other as human.”

”I don't really get sick.”

”I hang out with a lot of toddlers.”

Tommy snorted and squeezed his hand. ”Alright, what's your point?”

”I want my daddy back, and I want him to tell me when he gets scared.”

”What if I'm seeing someone?”

He knew Tommy was probably making a terrible joke, but jealousy burned in his gut. ”I will fight him. Physically. But I don't think you would've called me baby, if you did. Or I hope you wouldn't.”

”I only have one baby at a time.” It was such a non answer, and the tone of his voice was joking, but Tommy's face looked grave. He looked at Buck for a beat, then lowered his eyes. ”What if I'm scared all the time?”

”Then I want to know that.” Buck moved closer to him on the bench. ”I want to know you. That's all I want.”

”And if it doesn't go away? The fear.”

”Then it doesn't.”

Tommy rotated the cup in his hands. ”You'd be OK with that? Long term?”

”I would.” Buck put his hand on top of Tommy's, to make the fidgeting stop. Tommy switched his cup to the other hand, so he could curl his fingers around Buck's. ”I like it messy,” Buck said. It was a joke, but he didn't get the tone quite right.

”You don't know the kind of mess I leave behind.”

”That's what makes it exciting.”

Tommy smiled a little. ”You think so?”

”You've seen the kind of stuff I get up to. You should return the favour.”

”It won't be as exciting as yours.” He tried to bite back a grin, but it didn't go very well, ”I don't get cursed.”

Buck had no qualms about grinning. He leaned into him, ”There's a first time for everything.”

”Don't put that out there.”

Buck muffled his laughter into Tommy's shoulder. ”Hey, daddy?”

”Yeah, baby?”

First, we know a couple of things about his age from canon:

We know from "Chimney Begins" that Tommy was not a probie in 2005 when Chim joined. So he'd been there at least a year before that. For the sake of making him as young as possible, we will say that he has ONLY been there a year. We also knew that he "learned to fly" in the army.

So, that means:

He had to have joined the LAFD ~2004.

Had to have completed the necessary requirements for army pilots prior to that. For Army pilots joining prior to October 1, 2020, there was a 6 year service requirement after completing flight school.

To be a pilot, Tommy also had to be either a Commissioned Officer OR a Warrant Officer. Assuming he was not an officer, that means he had to complete all of the following before he could becoming a pilot: Army Basic Training, Warrant Officer Candidate School (WOCS), and Army helicopter flight school.

To make Tommy AS YOUNG AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE IN THIS TIMELINE: We'll also assume he joined the army at 17 with parental permission, which you can do because the USA is stupid and because his father seems like the sort - and also because we are going to make Tommy as YOUNG as he can possibly be in 2026 to prove my point:

Age 17: Graduates High school, Enlists in Army and does Basic Combat Training ~ 2.5 months

Age 17: Warrant Officer Candidate School ~1.5 months

Ages: 17–18 Army helicopter flight school (IERW) ~12 months (Can be up to 18 months, but we are making this the shortest timeline possible)

Ages 18–24: Aviation service obligation 6 years

Age 24: Leaves Army (Here, we give Tommy a LOT of assumptive grace. Getting into the LAFD Academy is hard, but we'll assume his officers wrote nice things or whatever and he got in right away.)

Age 24 :LAFD Academy: 22 weeks

AGe 24: Starts Probie Year

Age 25: "Chimney Begins" - has been with LAFD for at least a year.

SO, if he's 25 in 2005, that would make him born in 1980. In 2026, that that makes him no younger than 46. If he's born in 1980, that means he is 11 years older than Buck's 1991 birth year, which is fun and sexy if you aren't boring (and they are not.)

Notes:

Now, in truth, in a realistic timeline, Tommy would be older still.

He'd spent closer to 18 months in flight school and he probably had to take some time to apply/wait/join the LAFD academy, and maybe his parents weren't dicks and made him wait to 18 before he signed his life away to the military and/or maybe he gradated at the age of 18.

There's also issues with waiting for admission to WOCs and flight school.

And we have no IDEA how long he was in the LAFD before Chim came along

Honestly, 48 is more realistic and he could easily be celebrating his 50th birthday OR BEYOND. IF YOU AREN'T A COWARD.

BUT~ if you want him as young as possible, 46 is the bottom floor of what can be going on here in 2026. He can definitely be older, but he can't be younger and have the timeline make any sense.

In conclusion:

Sources:

(Just sources; don't join the military, kids.)

Army Aviation Special and Incentive Pay Policies to Promote Performance, Manage Talent, and Sustain Retention

LAFD requirements recruitment video

Rotary Wing Aviator Warrant Officer 153A

Between the pain, the fire, and Chimney riding his ass, Buck mostly forgot about him.

Until they sat in the engine, on the ride back to the station. Heartbreak came in waves. Periods of feeling OK, followed by periods where everything reminded him of Tommy.

He hoped this was just a momentary thing and not a backslide. Backslides were so much harder to come back from.

As they got out of the engine, Chimney said he was taking them offline. There were two hours and some change left of their shift.

Buck was the first to climb the stairs.

”What's got you in a mood?” Chimney asked, hot on his heels.

”Tommy was at the scene.”

”Oh. Huh.”

”You didn't see the engine with the big fuck off 217 on all the sides?”

Chimney rolled his eyes and popped his gum. ”I spoke to the captain, I didn't know Tommy was there. Figured he'd be in the air.”

”He's on the ground all the time. They only let them fly so much.”

Chimney grunted.

You're a bad friend, Chim, Buck didn't say. Instead, he went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed for the bunks. Some days he wondered why he'd ever bothered making friends with his colleagues.

*

The house was nice and quiet. Buck dropped his duffle in the entry and got undressed on the doormat. He hadn't showered yet and even his civvies smelled like smoke. He left his things to deal with later.

After a quick shower, he climbed into bed, naked, to sleep it off.

*

Buck woke up in the early afternoon. He had chores to take care of, but he stayed for a bit. Watched the curtain move infront of the open window, watched streaks of light move across the floor. His sheets no longer smelled of detergent, so he should probably change them.

He sighed and rolled onto his back. Tommy hadn't set foot in this house. Or this bed. When they were together, Buck would go longer between changing the sheets, to hold on to the smell of them longer. Their schedules never lined up the way they wanted them to. They both went out of their way to hold on to each other, in any way they could. Buck remembered using Tommy's charger, even though he'd brought his own. He'd seen Tommy leave his jacket behind in the loft, just to grab one of Buck's on the way out.

They never said I love you.

He threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side. He sat on the side of the bed for a moment. The bedside table was empty. He must've left his phone in his pocket, still in the entry. With a grunt, he got to his feet, and dug out some clothes. It was a warm day, so he stuck to underpants and a t-shirt. An old LAFD one, with a semi detached collar.

Tommy had clocked it right away. When he didn't feel good, Buck stuck to LAFD branded clothes. He kept them separate from the rest of his clothes, so they were easy to find. Instead of prying, Tommy had offered his own. Tommy had over a decade's worth of LAFD items, with old logos and events Buck had never heard of. There was a softball league he was especially fond of. The league had disbanded over ten years ago and the shirt said Kinard across the back. Buck had excitedly taken all of it off his hands.

It had probably made things easier for Tommy, having a boyfriend who wore a neon sign when he was upset.

Buck sorted out the mess in the entry. He put his phone to the side to charge, and started a load of laundry. Tommy was still front and center in his mind, but it was less than twenty-four hours, so the jury was still out. Maybe he'd go to sleep tonight and wake up fine.

Or maybe Tommy would haunt his every waking moment, for the next four weeks.

He'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted Tommy. It transcended gender. Buck had never wanted another human being as badly as he wanted Tommy.

The first time he had witnessed Tommy eat chocholate cake, Tommy had moaned a quiet little fuck me and Buck knew that sound was going to play in his head on his death bed.

He'd tried to remember how long it took him to get over Abby, but he didn't know. It wasn't the kind of thing he'd noted down anywhere. When he was in it, it had felt like a lifetime.

The last year had felt like several lifetimes, not even counting the Tommy of it all.

It was different, though. Buck was a different person this time around. Abby's absence had felt unbearable. Moving on had felt impossible.

With Tommy, it was less crushing and more reluctant acceptance. He knew he was going to keep on living, but he also knew being reminded of him was going to fucking suck. But he was resigned to it. The motto was ah, shit, here we go again. He knew the feelings would pass, no matter how much it hurt in the moment.

Speaking of hurt, the barometric pressure had fucked with his leg the other day. He needed to figure out where he'd stored his cane. He had a vague recollection of packing it, when he moved out of Eddie's place. Was probably smart knowing where it was, if the stormfront Ravi kept talking about ever made landfall.

For years he'd been hoping for some sort of sign that he'd reached adulthood. Grey hair and joint pain was not what he'd had in mind, but then again, the universe had never been kind to him.

He opened the sliding door to the backyard, to get some airflow. He found a post-it and wrote CANE, sticking it to the kitchen faucet, so he'd see it. There were other, more pressing things he needed to do.

Tommy had converted him to paper. He dug the designated shopping list notepad out of the junk drawer and took inventory of his kitchen. He'd been half assing groceries for a few weeks and was out of seemingly everything. Grocery shopping had to happen tomorrow. Or the day after. He needed a decent night's sleep first.

As he checked on his baking supplies, he wondered if he should stock up on that, too. He hadn't baked in a while, but if the Tommy feelings stuck around, he probably would.

Still in his underpants, he went to check the garage. He opened the chest freezer, but it really only held his baked goods.

Since he was out there anyway, he looked for the cane. He had an attic, but he hadn't been able to make himself go up there, since he cleaned up after the squatter.

As he dug through boxes, his t-shirt rode up. The first time he wore it, he'd marvelled at the size. There was a point in time where Tommy wasn't massive. The print was cracked and flaking, so it was a long time ago. Buck wasn't a crop top guy, but he enjoyed the feeling of the fabric sliding up and exposing his hips.

He found the collapsible cane in the bottom of a bed linnen box. The sheets fit his old bed, not his new one. Maybe he should note it down, so he would remember to look for a place to donate them to.

He pulled the post-it off the faucet and threw it away.

After transferring the laundry from the washer to the dryer, he contemplated a deeply depressing jerk off session, to photos of his ex-boyfriend.

He sighed. The jerking off could wait. He had a veritable mountain of cardboard boxes he needed to break down. Online shopping was becoming a bit of a problem, now that he was spending more time in the bunks and less time socialising at the firehouse.

Maybe he should revise his budget again. Surely he could think of something better to spend his money on, than another fucking jacket.

Tommy loved his jackets. Especially the pockets. If Buck wore a jacket, Tommy didn't have to, because all his extra shit could go in Buck's pockets. He sighed again. He'd loved being Tommy's walking totebag.

He checked the charge on his phone. Maybe he could squeeze in a quick session.

*

He picked up a new bag of flour.

*

Buck hated wildfire season and only partially because he now knew a not insignificant number of pilots. The door to Chimney's office was open, and Buck was paying more attention to the radio than his captain was.

He had an in at Dispatch. If he wanted to, he could call them. He'd gone on an ill advised date with a gossip hound named Layla. He thought he'd felt something over the radio, but halfway through dinner, it was more than obvious they were better off as friends.

Layla was always down for snooping, more committed to the bit than to the law. He respected her a hell of a lot. When he'd explained why he didn't have wine with dinner, she'd looked him in the eye and told him, ”Well that fucking sucks.”

She'd gone on to say that being sober was the smart choice anyway. She'd accidentally done meth once and Buck didn't have to worry about that. Clearly, he was the smarter of the two.

Buck didn't feel particularly smart, but he appreciated the sentiment.

Despite the wildfires, the shift had been calm. He'd already napped twice and was adamant about staying awake. He almost wished Harry would get up to some nonsense, so he could stop trying to pick out Tommy's name through all the noise. Tommy might not even be on shift.

He went to sit in the bay, so he could watch Ravi clean the engine.

”Are you gonna help?”

”No,” Buck smiled. He should get back into reading. Actual, real, paper books, so he couldn't jump to a different tab. Tommy was a big advocate for library cards and Buck did have one, but he was shit at time management. He'd end up spending all his jacket money on late fees, and he would've wasted all that time revising his budget.