pop health science is so annoying bc it'll be like "did you know? eating strawberries will give you mega cancer" and you're like pfft whatever begone influencer. but sometimes then you'll see a reasonably credible article like "Study Shows Possible Link Between Strawberries and Mega Cancer" and you're not usually the type to follow that kind of thing religiously but idk maybe you should consider not eating strawberries? but then there's another article saying "Strawberry/Mega Cancer Study Debunked" and it turns out the original study had a sample size of 3 and was funded by Big Blueberry, and strawberries may have a small connection to mega cancer but only if you are genetically predisposed to mega cancer and eat 50 strawberries every day. so you return to your strawberry eating life. but whenever you eat strawberries in public someone tells you about the mega cancer.
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Cam! Hi! How about some AUs where we see Tommy's 'baking' level coping mechanism and how it eventually intersects with Buck?
Theeeeenks! 🥑
cora! this was a month ago! i'd say whoops for taking so long but you'll see in a second. we got very involved. also i lied this wasn't 3k it was 5.2k
ooh okay this is fun. i wonder if we'll come up with five different hobbies or just five different times. here we go! (note: it was five hobbies, and they're all very long, so they're going under a cut from the start! buck got three hobbies, all canon -- two are after tommy, one was something he'd been doing for awhile)
i.
tommy's taking the car out for one last test drive when it happens. he's rebuilt the entire engine, hovered and nitpicked and watched as the entire frame was repainted (and oh boy, does that paint shop hate him now), and spent three weeks tracking down a modern radio that fits into the dashboard without ruining the classic look of it.
he's never understood why people love convertibles. the roofs are too soft to be any protection during a crash, and they generally don't have fantastic air bags, but. they are really freaking gorgeous. and after he's spent months learning every nut and bolt on the frame, he loves this car. it's a bit of a shame that he's selling it, but tommy's never going to drive it. better to let it go to someone who will take care of it.
he doesn't examine why it feels so similar to letting evan go.
he's had the car for seven months. that's longer than he had evan. of course—
it's los angeles. especially in the summer, it's hot, and after what was supposed to be a half hour drive and turned into over an hour, tommy pulls into a grocery store parking lot and parks before loping across the parking lot to the coffee shop.
iced lattes are delicious. vanilla caramel lattes even more so. the coffee shop is crowded, so tommy takes his cup and figures that he might as well take advantage of the convertible and enjoy it there. all the perks of a patio, all the perks of his own private space.
he's two rows away from the car when he sees a shopping cart trundling down the aisle without a person attached to it. tommy laughs a little; any second someone's going to come running after it, and that's basically his own entertainment for the day.
then he tracks the trajectory of the cart and swears. it's going to crash straight into the car he's supposed to hand off at the end of the week, and if he has to go back for a paint repair they are not going to be happy about it.
tommy speeds up and nearly has a hand on the cart when the owner appears, grabbing it and yanking it to the middle of the aisle before it can collide with the convertible.
"fuck," the other person says, and oh shit. tommy knows that voice. "that was cl—"
if tommy doesn't look up, maybe someone else will be standing there.
"tommy?"
"evan," tommy says, like a reflex. like he's never stopped. like he's not supposed to be calling him buck now.
"this is your car?" evan sounds baffled, and tommy sneaks a glance up at him. god. he looks incredible. he'd looked incredible every single day they'd spent together, and tommy had seen him after evan spent the day helping his neighbour clear all the weeds out of her garden. (tommy had been repairing mr. frank's lawn mower, and he'd found out that grease covered hands did it for evan.)
"i restored it. dropping it off with its new owner this weekend. final test drive," tommy says. if he gets the sentences out quickly, they can both go their own separate ways and then — well, then tommy can be alone again. "are you shopping for a bakery?" he asks, startled when he looks at evan's cart. there's got to be thirty pounds of flour in there.
"when did you get it?"
"uh, just after thanksgiving i guess." tommy shoves his hands into his pockets. he bought it nine days and eight hours after the breakup, after spending eight days and twenty three hours looking for a car that was going to be an impossible restoration. the delay between the two events was so that the former owner could get some sleep before tommy came by to pick it up.
"big restoration," evan says, his voice carefully neutral.
"needed to keep my hands busy."
evan barks a laugh, gesturing at his cart. "yeah. that's why i—"
oh. oh. tommy jerks his head around to look at evan.
"i know where to get a great lemon cranberry loaf to go with that iced latte."
tommy feels flushed. "i was going to buy a cinnamon roll, but they were out."
"i know where to get some of those, too." evan smiles hesitantly at him. "meet back at your place?"
"not yours?"
"you have safe for classic car parking."
tommy glances around and doesn't see the jeep. "you… want a ride?"
"i— yeah. yep. that would be great. you're sure the flour won't be a problem?"
"i have a shopvac."
ii.
the great thing about los angeles is that it's warm enough to have kids' soccer clubs in the winter. tommy repeats this to himself as he wakes up at six am on a saturday in early february and rolls out of bed, grabbing a thermos full of coffee and hopping in the car. sal's house is halfway between his and the field, and stella and sal are waiting in the driveway by the time tommy pulls up.
"you're late," sal says, shoving an egg sandwich in through the window.
"i am twenty minutes early," tommy argues, taking a big bite and chewing it directly in sal's face.
"yeah, whatever." sal grins at him. "don't die. don't let any of the girls die. we'll see you for lunch."
"…lunch?" tommy looks over at stella, his eyebrows flying up.
"it's a tournament day! we play at seven, then nine, then eleven. if we advance."
jesus christ, no wonder sal hadn't argued when tommy had offered to take this week. "isn't this your second week?"
"the first four weeks are round robin, uncle tommy. then it's one at a time until playoffs."
aaaaaaand he's been played by the entire deluca family, as usual. "do we need to get any snacks on the way?"
"nah, one of alison's neighbours brings snacks. says he needs to do something with all of them."
"a strange man brings snacks to an under sixteen girls soccer league?"
stella rolls her eyes at him. "uncle tommy, relax. alison knows him. and all the moms could take him. besides, dad saw him a few times in the fall and he doesn't seem worried."
"you're thirteen, what do you know?" tommy teases, tugging at one of her curls at the next stop light.
"ah! don't, i just got them to behave. they hate the winter."
"sorry, sorry, i'll get you waffles."
"you were going to get me waffles anyway, you just didn't know it yet."
"ah, i see we're learning from mom."
stella grins at him and settles back in her seat. "you're supposed to be driving, uncle tommy."
"hey, it's our favourite part time coach!" alison calls, waving them down as soon as they show up. "coach k, we missed seeing you around. hope you had fun jetsetting around the world and you're ready to win some games."
"al, i know you know i only fly for the city."
"sure, but the kids don't." alison reaches up and stands on her toes to ruffle his hair. "no one told you this was a tournament day, did they?"
"nope."
"sucker. there's more coffee if you run out."
"hey, al, about your neighbour—"
"he'll be here with snacks in time for the end of the second game. all right girls, circle up! here's what we need to do."
all he's able to get out of alison between plays is that the neighbour is a few years younger than her, seems to do shift work, and bakes enough to open his own bakery. and that he won't take payment for any of the snacks he brings to practice. the first few times alison had tried to at least pay for ingredients, he'd said something about just being glad to have somewhere it was appreciated.
"—the loaves he brings taste like buttery angel tears, so if he's being unappreciated somewhere i just have to wonder where that is!"
a cheer goes up from the girls and someone laughs and tommy has to grab all the longing in his body and squeeze it tight. it's just a laugh. it's not the laugh that he's been missing for months; he's been burnt by that before. there's been too many times he's heard a voice and hoped and turned around and been disappointed. whoever is behind him isn't—
"coach k, come meet the snack magician. we've been talking you up all morning."
"alison, they're just snacks. not all that special."
except this time, maybe it is. tommy lets himself hope just a little bit as he turns around and evan nearly fumbles the tupperware full of cookies. "tommy."
"hi, evan."
"oh, you know each other!" alison says, delighted.
"a little," tommy says. he's aiming for dry, humorous, but his voice is thick. a little doesn't really cover it.
"pretty well," evan says at the same time, and alison looks between them thoughtfully, taking the cookies out of evan's hands.
"great! i'll get the girls started with these and you can get caught up."
tommy catches stella texting out of the corner of his eye. if he doesn't crash and burn, he'll probably be off the hook for driving her to lunch. sal must have recognized evan the first time he dropped off at a game, and he — how long has he been planning this? when was the first time he'd jokingly complained about his old bones not appreciating the six am wakeup call?
"how, uh. how have you been?" tommy asks, because evan's still staring at him like he's never seen him before.
"well." tommy pauses. "i barely slept last night and four times last week i thought i saw you, so now i'm wondering if i'm dreaming that you're here."
evan's face collapses, distraught, and he takes tommy's hand. "i'll have you back before the next game," he promises, taking a step backwards and then freezing. "i— you do want to talk, don't you?"
"yeah. yeah," tommy breathes, tension leaking out of his shoulders. he wants to collapse into evan's arms. he wants to hold evan and let him collapse. he does neither, stepping away from the field and towards his truck. "come on. i can give us some privacy."
iii.
it's only after he and evan break up that tommy realizes how much of the last six months have been spent with him. he checks the calendar on his fridge and crosses out everything that he and evan were planning on doing and… he doesn't have any plans until the big deluca christmas party on the second weekend of december. shit.
it's the first week of november.
he's puttering around in his garage the next day when he hears mr. and mrs. frank coming back and he sticks his head out to wave hello.
"we can ask tommy," mrs. frank announces, and tommy quirks an eyebrow at them.
"you know neither one of us drives much these days," mrs. frank continues, gesturing towards the taxi trundling down the street. "mr. frank needs to go to some weekly appointments. is there any chance that you would be able to take him? at least sometimes, we know your schedule is busy."
"you know what?" tommy says, suddenly feeling bold. "i'll rearrange any days necessary so i can take you whenever you need."
mrs. frank pats his hand. "you're such a nice boy, tommy."
mr. frank has cancer. they've caught it early, because mr. frank has always made sure that he has yearly appointments on his calendar, but it means a few rounds of chemo and weekly trips to the hospital and being added to the frank family group chat.
he's a tough old guy, and by the time he's done the first round of chemo his oncologist is pretty sure they've got it licked and tommy gets dragged to the frank family celebration dinner. they try very hard to set him up with dylan, the owner of the restaurant they go to, but tommy's still a little (lot) hung up on evan.
mr. frank made a friend at chemo — natalie — who's been relying on taxis and ride shares to get back and forth from the hospital. she's got most of a round to go and they hate to impose on his time, but does tommy have enough of it to take her now?
somehow tommy ends up driving five chemo patients back and forth from the hospital every week. he ends up keeping hank's suv at his place, because hank doesn't drive any more but the truck isn't big enough for all of them. some of them leave, and some of them stay longer; some are happy endings, some aren't.
it's depressing and uplifting in equal parts, because they're always cheery and singing in the car on the way there and on the way home it can… vary.
sal and lucy shake their heads when they ask what he's up to and he tells them. "sounds right up your alley," sal says, then refuses to elaborate and rinses out his beer bottle.
in the spring they start coming back to the waiting room decked out in new knitted scarves and hats and mitts, and jill promises to get him one of his own when they find one in his colour.
she plops a forest green hat on his head two weeks later with a grin.
tommy is scrolling through his phone and waiting for his cadre of chemo buddies when there's a crash behind him and tommy whips around, the first responder instincts on high alert.
"tommy!" evan's staring at him like he's seen a ghost, and tommy scoops up the box he's carrying. well, the box he's dropped. there are scarves and hats everywhere and tommy repacks it haphazardly. "these are great," tommy offers lamely, pointing at his own hat. "really comfortable." the chemo crew have said that tommy's not allowed to hang out with him if he's not wearing his own hat, so it's become a staple of his wardrobe on appointment days. "where do you get them?"
"we uh. we make them." evan reaches out, almost touching tommy's hat before yanking his hand back. "that colour reminded me of—"
"you made this?" tommy wonders.
"why didn't you tell me you were here?" evan asks, his voice catching. "i would have. i would have—"
"tommy!" jill calls, coming back into the waiting room. natalie's leaning on her arm and tommy hurries over, slipping an arm around her waist. natalie is always a little woozy right after. "it is so nice having a chauffeur," natalie hums, patting his arm. "oh, you met the knitting leprechaun."
"i sure did," tommy says, aiming a rueful smile at evan.
"you're the carriage driver," evan says, and something in his eyes clears. "door to door service and—"
"gus and jack-jack on the dash," tommy sighs. that had been an impulse buy that everyone had insisted stick around, and now it was haunting him.
"and that's the only reason why you're here," evan finishes, and hank laughs as he walks in. "tommy's healthy as a horse, but he's got seven oncologists if he ever needs one. he's pretty popular around here."
"i bet." evan hesitates. "i know where to find a scarf that matches that hat."
"say yes," catherine whispers. loudly. "i think he thinks you're cute. he's single, you know," she finishes at a normal volume, which is only a few decibels louder than her whisper.
tommy's about to sink into the floor when she says that, but evan brightens up even more. "cath, that is so funny," he says, smiling conspiratorially at tommy. "because i'm single too."
"you two can flirt in ninety minutes, after tommy's driven everyone home," jill decides. "tommy, give the nice boy your address so he can meet you there."
"jill!" tommy protests.
"what? we've all realized there's only so much time in the world," jill says innocently.
"text me when you're done," evan says, laughing at tommy. it's nice, though. tommy's missed the sound.
evan's waiting on the porch with the matching scarf when tommy finally gets home, two cups of coffee in his cupholders.
iv.
"if i was thirty years younger, and you were straight…" shelly calls out, leaning against the half fence in Tommy's front yard.
"please don't sneak up on me while i'm holding power tools," tommy says, carefully turning the sander off and putting it down on top of the chair he was working on. hopefully shelly hadn't seen just how much tommy had jumped when she'd spoken.
shelly scoffs, waving it away. "if i didn't sneak up on you, i wouldn't get to see you working out here. you're too polite, you put everything down to say hello."
"shelly, i'm feeling objectified."
she grins brightly. "good, then it's working. i notice there's been a sad lack of objectification at your house this spring."
he arches an eyebrow at her.
"this time last year, if you'd been working with your sander, that hunk of a young man would be checking on you every thirty minutes with fresh pressed lemonade."
"i'm sorry my breakup means that you can't objectify two firefighters at the same time." tommy came over to the fence, taking the glass of water shelly offered him.
"that's not why i'm upset about it and you know it," shelly tells him, poking tommy's shoulder.
"some people just break up, shelly."
"and some people thought crocs were a valid footwear option, but we smacked sense into them too."
tommy glances down at shelly's feet and she scowls at him. "these are for cleaning."
"mm-hmm," tommy agrees mildly. "what can i do for you today, shelly?"
"do you know how to use those power tools on anything other than those fancy deck chairs, or are you a one trick pony?"
he laughs. "what do you need done, shelly?"
"not me, my friend from the community centre. archie. he's got a porch in his backyard and the stairs have started rotting away. he needs some new boards, but he's my age so we've all said he's not allowed to do it himself."
"i think i can handle that."
"great!" shelly slaps a piece of paper against his chest. "that's his address. he's expecting you in two days. and you should wear something tight — poor guy doesn't get many thrills these days."
tommy blinks.
"i forgot to mention he plays for your team, didn't i?" shelly winks. "maybe he'll be able to set you up with someone, because you haven't liked our choices."
"our— shelly!" tommy exclaims. that explains the sudden proliferation of nephews at the last barbecue they convinced him to come to. "i'm perfectly capable of getting a date myself."
shelly cackles. "oh, that's a good one." she patted tommy's arm, taking the water glass back. "i'll let archie know you're coming."
"i don't know what you expected," sal says later, when tommy tells him about the conversation. "the old bird is right. and your life is the kind that even a senior citizen can make fun of. she had a date last week."
"how do you know that?"
"tommy watch group chat." which is how tommy finds out his neighbours and his best friend talk about him behind his back. "i thought phil had a chance with you. lost twenty bucks to frank."
he debates the merits of strangling sal to death and apologizing to gina later. she'd probably think it was justified. unless she's part of the group chat too.
if tommy wears a tank top over to archie's it's only because loose clothing around tools is a bad idea. archie shows him through the gate to the backyard, gesturing to a tray with a glass of water and a bowl of fruit on it. "you're welcome to come through to the kitchen for any reason. i've got a knitting group coming over in about an hour, but the noise shouldn't bother them. half the ladies are hard of hearing anyway."
"thanks, archie."
"and let me know how much i owe you. shell is going to try and not pass the bill along if you tell her."
"will do," tommy promises, grinning back at him.
he's measuring the second step when he hears a commotion inside the house, and a couple of voices overlapping. "—said i would help, archie."
"and that's very sweet of you, young man, but a friend knows handyman and he was free, so rather than you giving up what little free time you have, i thought i would take advantage."
"take advantage," a woman giggles. "you would never, archie. you're such a gentleman."
"okay, well, i'm just going to take a look and make sure he's not messing it up," the first voice continues, coming closer, and the screen door must be distorting the voices, because that sounds like —
tommy looks up in time to see evan push the door open, a ball of yarn and knitting needles in one hand.
he's glad he's not using the saw, or there's a chance they'd have to call an ambulance for him.
"imagine our surprise," archie says, sticking his head out behind evan. "when shelly and i are playing poker and she talks about her lonely neighbour tommy and i talk about my new friend buck."
they both whip around to look at him, and tommy has a split second to think 'oh my god, i've been parent trapped by senior citizens' before archie is locking the door behind evan. "you two should talk," he says, winking at tommy, and then the inner door closes, the sounds of the knitting group disappearing.
"he didn't lock the gate," tommy offers, pointing to the other side of the backyard. "if you wanted to make a break for it."
evan gives him a truly withering glare and puts his knitting down, hopping over the railing. well. that answers that question. tommy watches evan stalk across the grass, but instead of opening the gate evan drags the hose reel in front of it.
he's still staring when evan comes back, putting one hand on the railing and vaulting over it so he doesn't disturb tommy's repairs. it takes tommy's brain a second to catch up, replaying the flex of muscles as evan moved, and he lets out an undignified yelp when a grape hits him in the face.
"oh. well, you can be distracted by that," evan says, smirking a little when their eyes meet. he claims one of archie's patio chairs and picks up his knitting.
tommy flushes, hefting the wood over his shoulder and turning to the table saw.
evan whistles. "we need to have a conversation when you're not using power tools," he says. "but i'm not about to make archie wait to be able to come out here. so i'll do my own thing, you'll do yours, and then."
tommy prays he gets stuck in a time loop right now, so they don't have to have that conversation.
"it's not bad," evan adds. he can probably read the tension in tommy's shoulders. "though i am going to call you an idiot about a dozen times."
v.
"all right, that's enough." lucy slaps her hands down on the table in front of her, staring at tommy. "i've lived through three months of this constant misery. now, i can't make you be unmiserable, but you do owe me for not shoving you out of the helicopter while we're in the air."
"okay," tommy says slowly, offering her one of his twizzlers. "what do you want to cash that in for?"
"flying lessons," lucy says promptly.
"if the only reason you don't throw me out of the helicopter is the fact that you can't fly yourself home, why should i teach you?" he tilts his head, watching her intently.
"because i'm a paying student. and it gives you the excuse to go flying more. which is basically the only time you're not miserable. because if you weren't focused, we'd crash. and you are offended by the thought that gravity could ever make you do anything." lucy rips the top off the twizzler and chews aggressively. "and so when they finally stop talking about how we need another pilot and do something about it, they can promote me instead of hiring some top gun wannabe."
"those were fighter jets," tommy corrects her, and is rewarded with lucy giving him the finger. god. he kind of loves her. "i have a flight booked on sunday. are you free? i can get it switched over to a teaching slot."
"not at six in the morning, i hope."
"three in the afternoon."
"perfect. i'll meet you at your place. i'll even bring doughnuts."
lucy is one of the best students tommy has ever taught, although that could also have something to do with the fact that she isn't learning in the middle of a firefight. lucy says it's because she's just as crazy as he is. tommy disagrees. lucy is the crazy one — tommy is totally normal. lucy laughs so hard she chokes on her water when he says that out loud, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "whatever you say, sherlock. as your watson, i'm telling you you're missing a few clues."
they're on one of their last flights before lucy can graduate to her solo time requirements when they're flying near the dam and see a group of people clustered around the edge of the cliff. "that's not good," lucy says, even as tommy gets on the radio to dispatch. "dispatch, we see what looks like a cyclist who's gone off the trail near the dam. have you received any calls about that?"
"roger," josh says. "what are you doing on a civilian channel, weho?"
"flight lessons. and i told you not to call me that."
"the 122's about twenty minutes out," josh tells him, laughing.
"are they in heavy rescue? because—"
"i know you of all people are not judging the preparedness of another firehouse." josh cautions him.
"tommy, i don't like the looks of that ledge they're on," lucy calls, peering out the side window.
tommy glances towards the back as lucy gets out of the co-pilot's seat. he's had a basket and winch in his bird since he started flying again, and everyone thinks it's silly to take that up every time but… "what are the rules about off-duty firefighters helping?" tommy asks josh.
"i'll alert the captain," josh heaves a sigh. "we take no responsibility for anything that might happen from this point forward."
"yep," tommy agrees, leaving the line open. lucy's already got the safety gear on and she's perched by the door, waiting for tommy to descend. it's more than muscle memory at this point, and tommy drops low over the group. the door slams open and wind howls through the bird, only barely louder than lucy's whoop as she pushes the basket out of the helicopter and jumps after it.
"we've got a broken leg, a — oh, nice one, sprained wrist, and a few bumps and bruises. i think we're good to hoist this guy to the road and let the other firefighters take it from here," lucy tells tommy through their headsets.
"guide me up," tommy says, and she does. it's trickier than it normally is to offload the basket, but only because they don't have a full crew and a stretcher to stabilise it.
"you should land," lucy says, and tommy hates whatever it is that's making her grin. "got someone here who wants to talk to you."
tommy glances down at the 122 truck. "tell sal he can bl—"
"thank you so much for the assist, off duty firefighter kinard," josh cuts in, just before tommy says something truly foul on a recorded line. "the paperwork for this little adventure will be at your station for your next shift. have a nice day now."
"seriously. we need to reload the basket, dummy." lucy says impatiently.
she's got a point. tommy radios back to the air field and tells them he'll be a little late as he descends, and by the time he's powering down the rotors he can almost appreciate the chance to see sal before their pickup game. "all right luce," tommy says, sticking his head out the back door. "let's get this loaded and—"
evan buckley is holding the basket and lucy is on the other side of the clearing with sal. "not lucy," tommy says lamely, and winces. not what he meant his opening words to be to evan the next time they saw each other.
"evan," evan agrees, and winces. tommy had asked him once why he wouldn't use his first name himself but wouldn't let tommy use his nickname, either. evan had hemmed and hawed until he had an opening to change the subject, and then he and tommy had ended up making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers.
"kept up with the cycling," tommy continues, and for gods sake. can't he say anything other than inanities?
"sure did," evan says, not making a move to load up the basket. "still flying."
"you know me."
"eternally offended gravity tries to make you do things," evan nods. he's not smiling, except for the way that the corners of his eyes crinkle up when he's trying not to smile. "thanks for literally dropping in to help mitchie."
"had to live up to the new mugs," tommy jokes.
now evan really is smiling. "hey, do you think i can get another tour?"
"gonna let me down at the end and say you're not looking for a change?" tommy smiles faintly. when evan had called the first time tommy had let himself think about what it would be like to work with a guy so utterly fearless. what he got was better. what he got was worse. what he got was tommy blowing it.
evan waggles a hand back and forth before holding out the basket and helping tommy slide it into the helicopter. "depends," he says finally, as tommy straps it down.
"on what?"
"on how the other conversation we have goes. i'm morally opposed to working at the same station as my boyfriend."
tommy jerks around so fast he bangs his elbow on the back of the pilot chair.
"shit, are you—"
"yeah, fine," tommy reassures him. his elbow is pleasantly numb for now, between the adrenaline and the shock. he's done it before; at most it's a nasty bruise. "what?"
"your buddy offered me a job when he showed up," evan says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at sal. "i told him i needed to think about it."
"how's tomorrow?" tommy asks. "for the tour. two o'clock?"
"eleven, at your place, with coffee, for the other talk. then the tour," evan bargains.
"turns out i'm pretty bad at talking," tommy offers, remembering that last night together.
"i'll give you a few do-overs," evan promises. "and you can give me a few."
"…okay. better make it ten," tommy says. that's at least six hours with evan, assuming tommy doesn't fuck it up again. he can survive six hours.
"sounds perfect."
never mind. he won't last ten minutes after evan shows up. tommy smiles back helplessly. it's going to be a mess, but he is looking forward to it.
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If you don’t let go of your prejudices and past grudges, your heart won’t blossom. 2013 is coming, let’s make a change. We only have one planet so let’s show each other some kindness.
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Below the cut is a floor plan I put together based on what we've seen so far of Buck's new house. Some of it is guesswork since we haven't seen the whole thing yet. Please bear with me.
EDIT 11/18/25
Y'ALL I found the house!! @spacetimeconundrum added tags that said this:
Which inspired me open google maps to try to find the place and there it was, right by the Disney Studio lots!
So now that I know what the house looks like from the outside, I can more confidently say that this is the floor plan. Perhaps there is a second bedroom and we just haven’t seen it yet. Until we do, I’m keeping things as is. Don't look at the proportions too hard. I didn't go to school for architecture!
Now I have to start with the worst part of this whole house, the dining room. I realized way too late that both walls were angled, which really inconvenienced me let me tell you. If things at the bottom look weird NO THEY DON'T. What's going on with that alcove's angles? Who knows!
UPDATE The room off the dining room that I previously thought was enclosed looks like it actually connects through to the front hallway (thanks @buckbuckg0ose). Look at the lighting off the chair and the picture on the wall, there's light coming from the direction of the front door. On the opposite side there's a door that leads to a garage.
His entryway is another headache, so don't look too hard at it. There's a doorway behind the door, which I once again realized late into this process. His house is so weird okay!
The little foyer/entryway area opens to the living room. He has a new couch!
Kitchen is around around the corner from the living room. You pass by a nook with some shelves where Buck keeps books, pictures and knick knacks. Next to it is a laundry room and a closet/pantry.
His bedroom is at the end of the hallway in the front of the house. It has double doors that lead to the patio and possibly a door that leads to the front yard? I'm not too sure about whatever is happening there. He has a window on each side of his bed. I'm assuming the room with the window next door is the bathroom. Oh and he has a HOT TUB.
His patio runs along the entirety of the back of the house. We all now know that those buildings across the street are the Disney lots, but for the sake of 911 canon, let's just say it's a factory or warehouse.
Well that's it for now! I'll update as we see more. :)
In case this helps, this is a working plan of Buck's house I posted on my twt:
I think the exterior is mostly to scale based on maps and street view. The interior is getting there, the only things that are still really unclear are the bathroom and adjecent room cause we haven't fully seen them yet. A few people suggested switching them but based on what we can see in the episodes I don't think that's possible?
The small louvre door off the dining room towards the bathroom is probably a closet as op showed above, but until we see the bathroom I haven't added it yet.
Also, as far as I can tell, the house is only one bedroom as the Zillow listing suggests unless Disney have converted the garage since they bought it in 1995 (personally though I am headcanoning that Buck has a sofa bed in the room next to his).
I’m on a still active forum, with a solid vs debate scene. Sailor Moon vs. the God-Emperor of Mankind from 40k is one of the most treasured threads there, as Sailor Moon trashed the guy.
19 pages straight of debate over Sailor Moon vs. God-Emperor of Mankind, in which every time a 40k fan desperately brings up a new point, it immediately gets negated by another one of Sailor Moon’s powers
Person: "Hello sir." he pets the frog with one finger.
Person: "Have a good day. Actually wait a minute. You missed a bug, but I got you home boy. Hold on." he picks a bug up and throws it next to the frog.
Frog: turns around and eats the bug.
Person: "OHHHHH-" sings high pitched and angelic like he witnessed a miracle.
I don't need another WIP and this has probably been done before but:
Post breakup/hookup/etc... probably some time after Bobby's death, Buck's finally had it with everything at work and since he's learned the lesson after the truck bombing/lawsuit stuff, he goes to the union.
Where he meets Sal.
For this, I'm thinking Sal and Tommy have been out of touch for a few years actually. Probably because Tommy came out to him and Sal wasn't ready to consider his own issues so he was supportive in the moment but let them drift apart. Which Tommy took as him being uncomfortable and let him. (Which added to his issues, of course.)
So Sal knows nothing about Buck being involved with Tommy and Buck might bring up his ex but he's not going to say the T word so... when Buck and Sal become friendly then end up moving things to more than friends and way more than worker and union rep, neither of them suspect that connection. (Sal DOES get him another rep! He's not going to pull the same shit that's part of the reason Buck went to the union in the first place.)
(Also they do know the 118 connection obviously but Buck has told himself he's moved on which obviously when you've truly moved on it's totally normal to cautiously avoid saying your ex's name or suggesting your new boyfriend might have worked with him ten years ago.)
Things are good. Really good. Buck does still miss Tommy and think about him sometimes (he's not going to think about how many 'sometimes' is) but he's starting to think he can see a future with Sal. They're planning to but have not yet moved in together.
And then, of course, they're out together and run into Tommy.
It's SO many layers of uncomfortable.
Buck and Sal are holding hands and Buck would never drop Sal's hand because they ran into Tommy but oh god he's really wanting to drop Sal's hand but also to hold it tighter and raise his chin because fuck you, Tommy Kinard, afraid you couldn't be my last and you got your wish.
Sal's all too aware of how it looks to Tommy that he basically dropped Tommy as friend after Tommy came out to him and now here he is with a guy so he's ashamed of himself but he's not ashamed of Buck so he's not letting go of Buck's hand but he's also too consumed with his own worries about what Tommy thinks of him to notice the crisis Buck is going through.
Tommy's eyes just go to their linked hands and some part of him is just like, of course. Of absolute fucking course.
It's the most stilted conversation ever. "Hey" with seventeen levels of meaning and inflection. And of course Tommy is the one to bolt first, like his ass is on fire and water's a mile away.
In the wake of his leaving, Sal and Buck both turn to explain to the other and understanding dawns on them both.
Oh. Fuck.
And it's a couple of days of this whiplash feeling for both of them, just numbly processing.
And Buck is considering reaching out to Tommy but that feels weird but he thinks he should but that feels dishonest to Sal and he could tell Sal - he should! - but he's not sure how to explain why he thinks he should talk to Tommy so he just doesn't know how to bring it up.
Then Sal brings it up.
Sal needs to apologize to Tommy, explain his own shit, doesn't expect or feel he deserves forgiveness for ditching Tommy but Tommy deserves to know it was never his fault or about him, that Sal was a coward who couldn't handle Tommy being brave.
And Buck hears something in Sal's explanation. Something familiar because he knows it himself.
They don't just want to clear the air.
They want more.
They want Tommy.
Since Sal's made a new career of talking things out and hearing both sides, I think he and Buck are actually pretty good at communicating. Buck can run impulsive and Sal can still get his temper up but mostly only on someone else's behalf these days so they sometimes get a little snappish with one another but they get through it okay.
So they actual have a pretty damn mature conversation about this. About Tommy. About what they maybe want.
Both of them say they're good either way but, god, just acknowledging it makes the want get bigger and more insistent.
Just thinking about it and talking together makes them both envision it: how the three of them could be. They both start talking about the things they like and miss about Tommy and see how it doesn't impact what they enjoy about each other.
And admit that thinking about each other with Tommy is... pretty damn hot actually.
And then they just kind of groan because how they fuck could they EVER explain this to Tommy, let alone convince him?
Meanwhile Tommy is alone in the deepest pits of his own personal hell with no clue these conversations are happening. In his head they're probably laughing, clinking champagne glasses (oh fuck, he thinks. champagne.) because haha what a coincidence they'd both once been at all connected to Tommy Fucking Kinard, aren't they lucky he's past tense for both of them.
He's just absolutely emotionally decimating himself thinking about "don't have to have feelings with everyone I sleep with" and how once upon a stupid time he'd imagined telling Sal he was gay and telling him he'd had a crush on him forever. Doesn't it just figure the two guys he's been the most fucked up about are now together.
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Viggo Mortensen is absolutely a handsome man, but his character in Eastern Promises doesn't have most of the global population ripping their hair out foaming at the mouth screaming crying throwing up horny.
It's something about the combination of long hair, stubble, a mysterious past, quiet confidence, and looking like you've just been riding a horse for 2 weeks, that drives people crazy.
We will call this phenomenon The Aragorn Effect. My theory is that if all those same elements are combined with the correct proportions, any actor may be able to experience The Aragon Effect.
In 1989 movie Roadhouse Sam Elliot plays a veteran bouncer who is asked by Patrick Swayze to assist in a particularly difficult bar. He 1. Has Long hair 2. Has Stubble 3. Looks like he eats cigarettes. In this essay
*grumbling* Would you rather work for Lex Luthor or the Joker- *shouting* Lex Luthor, by like, a fucking mile!
Yes, yes, working for Lex Luthor is basically like being an Amazon employee that makes weapons of mass destruction, which is bad. Lex is like Donald Trump mixed with Mark Zuckerberg mixed with Jeffrey fucking Bezos, it’s not a great mix. He does not treat his henchmen well. Their lives still suck, and they are probably monitored on how long they take piss breaks for.
But let’s analyze what working for Lex Luthor is like versus the fucking Joker. With Lex you probably get a dental plan, a health plan, a paycheck, and the guy that you’re fighting really cares about human life. Superman will hit you just long enough to knock you out, so you’re not a treat, so he can stop the problem.
If you work for the Joker, your payment is you’re not fucking dead. You say one wrong thing? Bang. You don’t laugh at his jokes? Bang! You do laugh at his jokes? Bang! You think Joker gives a fuck about a henchman?
Who’s Lex Luthor’s right-hand-man? It’s a woman, you sexist, her name is Mercy, she’s awesome. Who’s Joker’s right-hand-man? Bob? Nah, he’s dead. Harley? Tried to kill her multiple times. Slappy? Who the fuck is Slappy?
The best case scenario of working for the Joker is that you fight the fucking Batman! And that presents its own fucking list of problems. If you stop Superman as a Lex Luthor henchman, Lex’ll be pissed, but he’ll be at least happy that Superman was caught. If you stop Batman as a Joker henchman, you better have a fucking coffin picked out yesterday.
This isn’t a fun hypothetical question, this is a screening technique that the doctors at Arkham use to determine your mental health! There is a right and a wrong answer to this question, and the correct one is Lex fucking Luthor. Thank you for coming to my fucking Ted Talk, have a nice day.
