bucktommyangstweek

[bucktommyangstweek]

Prompt: Near Death Experience

Chapter 1/2: Push & Pull

^^(link to ao3)

Summary: After years of struggle, Buck and Tommy are about to welcome their son into the world! (And.. the struggles continue.)

Tags: Near Death Experiences, Mpreg I Male Pregnancy, Infertility, Postpartum Hemorrhage, Blood, Childbirth, Newborn Health Scare, Angst with a Happy Ending

Note: This is my final fic inspired by the @bucktommyangstweek prompts from a couple weeks ago 🖤

(Apparently, I don’t know how long a week is supposed to be.. or that the days are meant to be consecutive.)

[bucktommyangstweek]

My Heart

At long last, my very late contribution to @bucktommyangstweek Day Seven.

Prompt: Near Death Experiences

Rated M

4307 words

TW: blood and injuy

They’re on the roof of a high rise keeping things uncomfortably professional as Buck helps load a patient into Tommy’s helicopter when an explosion from one of the lower floors sends the building cascading down.

The world falls away, rumbling apart, blue sky vanishing behind a wall of broken concrete and twisted rebar.

The last thing Buck sees before he lands on his back and blacks out completely is Tommy’s face covered in blood.

#

He comes to with a groan, blinking, but there’s no light.

Buck fumbles at his chest until he finds the light strapped to his chest.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to get some idea of his situation. “Tommy?” he calls out, managing to roll onto his stomach. Pain twinges through his neck which is probably a bad side, but he can focus on that later, once he’s found Tommy.

He angles his light, trying to get a handle on the situation.

Buck’s honestly not sure how he’s alive.

Or how long he’s likely to stay that way.

Read the rest on Ao3

[bucktommyangstweek]

Prompts: Bedside Vigil / Major Character Death

link to ao3^^

Belatedly, for @bucktommyangstweek 🖤

Chapter-specific tags: Tommy POV, bucktommy, car accident, major character death (go to ‘end notes’ on ao3 - if you want to know details before deciding to read), hospitalization, bedside, angst, grieving firefam.

[bucktommyangstweek]

Every Slur You've Ever Called Me

written for Day Six of @bucktommyangstweek

Prompt: Bedside Vigil

Rated M

1720 words

TW: Cancer, homophobia, homophobic slurs

Honestly, Tommy’s not sure what he’s doing here.

Midnight.

Listening to the whoosh of oxygen being forced through a nasal canula.

The beep of monitors.

The subtle drip of morphine in his father’s IV.

Tommy’s not sure why he came in the first place, considering that the last time he spoke to his father it ended in Tommy being called every slur for a gay man under the sun.

Tommy didn’t even know Dad was sick until his aunt called to let him know.

“You don’t have to see him,” she said. “I know he’s an asshole and I’m not expecting you to forgive him for everything he put you through or any of that kumbaya bullshit, but if you have any unfinished business with the bastard, you’d better finish it soon.”

Tommy stares at his father’s face.

It’s kind of like looking through a twisted mirror, seeing himself in forty years. If he lives that long.

Which, jury’s definitely out on that one given all the dangerous shit he keeps getting dragged into. Okay, who’s he kidding? He jumps headfirst into the danger, just like Evan. It’s a miracle either of them lived long enough to meet, let alone that they’ve been able to build a life together, a marriage, a family. Though both Tommy and Evan are better about the risks they take now that they're parents.

Read the rest on Ao3

[bucktommyangstweek]

Fly the Coop

For @bucktommyangstweek Day Five: Missing in Action

Rated T

4087 words

Buck swats Maddie’s hand away as she fiddles with his boutonniere for the bazillionth time. “Maddie, leave it. It’s fine.” Nerves twist in his gut. He wishes they were just wedding jitters, but his instincts are screaming that there’s something wrong. Something he’s missing. “Is Tommy here yet?” He should be here by now and it’s getting to the point where traffic can’t explain how late he is.

Maddie scowls at him. “Not yet. I’ve tried calling Chimney and Lucy but neither of them are picking up.

The nerves in Buck’s stomach intensify. “Is it just me or is this reminding you of your wedding when we lost Chim.”

Maddie sighs. “Don’t remind me.” And then she gives him a comforting smile and says. “They probably just hit traffic or something. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Buck nods, trying to believe, his sister because he so does not want his gut to be right about its insistence that something is very, very wrong. Because this always happens. Every time he feels like things are finally going well, like his life is on track and stable, something happens to upend his reality and he really doesn’t need that happening on the day he’s supposed to be marrying the love of his life.

“Okay,” Maddie says, clearly sensing that Buck hasn’t been placated by her words. “Let’s check “Find My Friend” and see where he’s at.”

Buck fishes his phone out of his suit pocket, hands shaking so much that once he’s unlocked it with his thumbprint he passes it to Maddie to ping Tommy’s phone through the app. He watches her face on the lookout for every minute shift in expression.

She frowns.

“What?” Bucks asks, grabbing his phone back. “Where is he?” He squints down at the screen. “Harbor?” Why would Tommy go to work on his wedding day? Unless –

Buck tries not to spiral, he really does, but the fact that his fiancé is a bona fide runner doesn’t help to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay. Because what if Tommy’s gotten cold feet? What if, instead of talking to Buck about his fears like a normal person, he just decided to leave on their wedding day, to literally fly to coop?

Buck’s heartrate ticks up a notch.

His breathing feels tight.

Now is absolutely not the time to panic though.

He grabs his keys from the dresser and leaves the suite the venue set aside for him to get ready.

“Where are you going?” Maddie trails behind him, hiking up the long skirt of her sister-of-the-groom dress, because as much as Buck’s relationship with his parents had improved over the years it didn’t feel right for them to walk him down the aisle, so he chose Maddie instead.

“To find my husband,” Buck pulls his suit jacket off and replaces it with his LAFD bomber jacket. Because he’s not going to let Tommy run away, not without a damn good explanation.

Read the rest on Ao3

tagging @unhingedangstaddict since you seemed interested.

[bucktommyangstweek]

i know we're close to an edge

He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want distractions, he doesn’t want things to occupy him; he wants his fiancè to sit up in that godforsaken bed, to push the sheets down and stand up and press a kiss to Evan’s lips and hold him and tell him, in that honey-warm voice, we’re okay, mi tesoro, like he does. That’s all that Buck wants.

@bucktommyangstweek days 6 and 7 - bedside vigil & nde T | buck/tommy | 4.5k

read on ao3.

[bucktommyangstweek]

a little summary of my series, of black and white drawings for BuckTommy Angst Week 2025 🖤🤍

[bucktommyangstweek]

@bucktommyangstweek Day 7: Near Death Experience

[bucktommyangstweek]

@bucktommyangstweek Day 6: Bedside Vigil

[bucktommyangstweek]

i know we're close to an edge

He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want distractions, he doesn’t want things to occupy him; he wants his fiancè to sit up in that godforsaken bed, to push the sheets down and stand up and press a kiss to Evan’s lips and hold him and tell him, in that honey-warm voice, we’re okay, mi tesoro, like he does. That’s all that Buck wants.

@bucktommyangstweek days 6 and 7 - bedside vigil & nde T | buck/tommy | 2.4k so far

part one out now | part two coming soon

[bucktommyangstweek]

It’s the technical end of BuckTommy Angst Week 2025, but have no fear because everything will still be open, so if you need and or want to post something late totally okay!

Thank you so much to everyone who participated, I loved everything that you came up with and I can’t wait to go back a reread to make myself feel sad with all of y’all’s beautiful work!

If people want, I’m definitely open to running another angst week in the future.

Until another time,

Via 🩷

Here is all the information about Angst Week if you need it!

[bucktommyangstweek]

"Chasing Shadows"

@bucktommyangstweek day 7 (swapping with 6): bedside vigil

Chapter 7 & 8 below or here on ao3

chapter 1/chapter 2/chapter 3/chapter 4/chapter 5/chapter 6

[wc: 2381]

Horrifying.

That’s not the word, not really, for what Chimney sees when he runs toward the clearing. It’s something that can't be named so easily, not with one simple word.

It starts with a call from Athena – an echo of a cry for help, hours after twisted metal was found, wrapped around a tree in the woods. Time on a trail, long gone and cold, pieces of a puzzle already too shattered to fit back together.

By the time they arrive, it’s almost too late.

The sound of Bobby’s name – a whispering roar in the wilderness – will haunt Chimney's dreams forever. Of that, he’s certain.

When his feet carry him the last of the way, twigs and vines underfoot putting up barriers that feel like time lost in a sea of precious moments, his heart nearly stops.

Buck, head bleeding, voice raw, tears streaking down his face with fractured sobs. His arms pressing into Tommy’s chest in a rhythm Chimney knows too well. Tommy, a broken shell of the man who usually walks through life with laughter in his eyes and jokes at the ready.

But now, there’s no cracks of humor, no quips to push away the suffering. Just the quiet stillness of the forest and the faintest sign of life – the shallow breath Buck tries to force into Tommy’s chest.

“Buck!” Chim shouts, taking off in a desperate sprint. He drops to his knees beside Buck, hands trembling as they press into Buck’s, blood already staining his palms before he even realizes it. “I got it. I got him.”

It takes another thirteen minutes to break through the trees, four more before Tommy’s heart starts beating on its own. Seventeen miles to the closest trauma center. Even with a helicopter, they don’t waste time talking, no banter shared between breaks in the chaos, no compliments on flawless execution of their efforts, only focused urgency.

They collect the members of the 118 and their families like seashells, fragile and worn gathering at the hospital, the same chairs, the same sterile air they’ve been surrounded by so many times before. Waiting. Wondering.

A habitual entertaining of the reaper of death, here to play another round of Russian roulette with their lives. The siren song of the hospital calls them back time and time again, and they have no control against its melody, their souls next up in line on any given day of sacrifice.

Tommy codes twice.

Buck loses liters of blood.

Maddie shuffles between chairs and coffee, soothing Chimney with soft words pressed against his cheek, as his mind replays the moments they found Buck and Tommy. He can hear every mistake in his memories. Every inch of his experience, his years of training, felt inadequate. The blood on his hands, a reminder of the price of family.

Guilt is a mistress they’re all familiar with, her haunting shape so mesmerizing it lulls them in with warmth and a sharp tongue – so easy to fall into her trap regardless of logic.

Maddie’s there, regardless, her voice a spell against the enticing tune, her reassurances of strength and ability finding his ears whenever guilt comes calling. “You did everything you could,” she reminds him, her voice steady against the storm in his chest.

The words come like a prophecy, their uttered truths rippling through the flock of firefighters with more power than any should possibly hold.

“They’re stable.”

Evan Buckley is a familiar vision in a hospital bed, skin softened in the glow of the fluorescent lights, bold lines of his jaw and smile loosened, slack in sleep. His hairline fills cracks with dried blood, a row of stitches are sewn down his cheek. His skin is littered with bruises, bold blacks and purples too deep to find solace in the breath of life beneath them.

A cast is wrapped around his wrist, held in a sling and pulled closely to his chest – a concussion diagnosed, broken ribs, and more injuries lie beneath the blankets. Tubes and wires sprout from his veins, the garden of the hospital eager for his blood as his roots find a home they’ve become all too accustomed to, the soil enriched by morphine and saline.

Chimney steps forward, his hand trembling as he reaches for Buck's wrist, the overwhelming need to touch him – to ensure he’s alive – washing over him. Before he realizes it, Chim waters the very garden that holds tightly to Buck, tears falling against the tubes and wires rooted in his skin.

“You scared the hell outta me, man,” Chim murmurs in the dim room, his voice ragged, broken. “You and Tommy should come with insurance – I deserve compensation for this nightmare.”

Buck’s eyelashes flutter, his head shifting slightly as he stirs. His voice, heavy with exhaustion and drugs, croaks out, “Chim?”

“Hey, Buck,” Chim murmurs, brushing his fingers gently over Buck’s arm. “You’re in the hospital, man. You’re okay.”

Buck’s eyes scan the room, fighting against the haze of pain and fatigue, but then his face crumbles. A flash of horror crosses his features. His skin pales even further.

“T-Tommy,” Buck stammers, voice breaking. “I-Is he – Chim...”

Chim pulls a chair close, sitting at Buck's side, his grip tightening on Buck’s forearm as he steadies him. “He’s alive,” Chim says, his voice gentle but firm. “He’s stable. He’s in a room down the hall.”

A long, shaky exhale leaves Buck, but it’s not enough. His eyes stay wide, still heavy with worry. “Is-Is he okay?”

This is the hardest part. The space between the news and the knowing. The waiting to break the worst of it. Chimney hates it every time.

“He’s still unconscious. He’s had surgery, multiple transfusions…” Chim’s voice falters as he looks at Buck. He presses on, determined to help ease his fear. “It was touch and go for a while.”

Buck’s body shakes with the news. His chest heaves with each breath as his body trembles, a knot rising in his throat. His tears, fresh and warm, spill down his face. He watches Chim, his eyes full of both terror and the desperate hope that things will be okay. “I want to see him.”

“Not yet, Buckaroo,” Chim says softly, his fingers brushing Buck’s shoulder. He sees the faint resistance in Buck’s face as he fights to stay awake. “We’ll make sure he’s okay. We’ve got him. We’ve got you both.”

Another six hours go by, Buck waking and falling back into sleep three more times before Tommy finally starts to do the same. The 118 flits between rooms, each of them keeping watch, exchanging quiet words, holding hands, grabbing coffee. Their eyes are heavy, hearts worn thin, but they stay. They wait.

Two days pass and the sun rises once again, its dewy drip of honey falling between the blinds onto the hospital floor. Chim shields his eyes, squinting at the growing brightness. When he looks back at Buck, he finds the clarity returning to his eyes. His bruises have deepened – black to purple, yellowing at the edges – but his gaze is sharper now.

“Buck,” Chim smiles, the first true smile in days. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Buck says, stretching and inhaling, wincing as pain flares. “Still not great.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to be, after the week you’ve had,” Chim chuckles, walking toward the door. Before he can step out, Buck’s voice stops him.

“Wait, w-where are you going?”

Chim pulls a wheelchair into the room, locking the wheels into place. “Come on, Buckley,” he says, his tone light but firm. “You wanna go see Tommy, right?”

Buck’s face lights up. He almost jumps out of bed, but Chim holds him back, warning him to be careful with the wires and tubes tangled around him.

“Careful,” Chim chuckles, his voice full of warmth. “Don’t trip over the cords, man.”

“I’ve got it,” Buck snaps, but there’s no heat behind it, only exhaustion and a desperate need to be with Tommy.

Chim settles him into the chair, unlocking the wheels with a soft click. “He might still be asleep,” he warns as they head down the hall.

“I don’t care,” Buck replies, a determined fire in his voice. “H-Has he woken up at all?”

“A few times,” Chim assures him. “Both of you are gonna be fine.”

He gives Buck’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as they round the corner, Tommy’s room in sight. Buck, buzzing with nervous energy, nearly bolts out of the chair before Chim has a chance to get to the room. Chim holds him back for a moment, then gently guides him forward.

When Buck finally reaches Tommy’s bed, good arm outstretched, Chim can feel the room settle, the world fit snugly back where it belongs.

Tommy’s eyes find Buck’s, and despite the heinous hospital lighting and broken bones shared between them, the twinkle in them is undeniable.

“Tommy,” Buck whispers, his voice cracking before he can finish.

“Hey,” Tommy murmurs, his voice rough. “You okay?”

Buck laughs through his tears, the sound both relieved and raw. “Am I-I okay?” he scoffs. “Yeah, babe, I’m fine.”

Tommy reaches up, his thumb brushing against Buck’s cheek, soft, soothing. Chim looks over at Maddie where she’s freeing herself from the chair near Tommy’s feet. She slides closer to Chim.

When she wraps her arms around his waist, he feels at peace, settled in the strength of her grip, the breath of her lungs, the steady rise of her chest. The life within her an extension of his own.

And it’s clear Buck and Tommy feel the same about one another. When Chim hears whispers of shared ‘I love you’s as fingers intertwine, he finally feels like he can breathe easier, and he tugs Maddie with him out of the room. Tommy’s jokes about his heart being replaced with one made of titanium and soft shared laughter echo in the room behind him, his own heart beating calmly in rhythm once more.  

---

Chim pulls the car door open and smiles boldly at Buck, arms outstretched like a bona fide circus ringmaster. “Your chariot awaits,” he says before jogging around the front of the car and opening the opposite door for Tommy.

“Thanks, buddy,” Tommy says as he eases himself into the back, and Buck does the same. They teeter together, shoulders colliding as they both fall into the car at the same time, and Buck hisses as pain lances through his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Tommy says, shuffling back into place, arm wrapped around his middle, grimace falling across his own lips.

“N-No, that’s – I’m sorry,” Buck says, “this sucks.”

Tommy chuckles, his laughter spilling warmth into Buck’s chest, easing his anxiety about having caused any additional damage to Tommy's battered body.

“About that,” Chim says he hops into the car, pulling away from the hospital. “You guys sure you don’t wanna stay with us?”

“We’ll be okay,” Tommy says, glancing at Buck. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, a soft smile winding up his cheeks. “We’ll just take it slow.”

Chim chuckles and shakes his head, “Well if you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Buck rolls his eyes, “As if we’ll be alone anyways.”

Chim smiles boldly at him in the rearview mirror, “Bobby and Athena are at your place right now putting food in the fridge, and Maddie’s stopping by the store to grab a few things.”

Tommy’s hand finds Buck’s knee as the car rolls through the city, the familiar weight grounding him and settling the spark of nerves that clamors through his spine, commonplace the last week as they healed in the hospital.

Jennings had been found a day after Buck and Tommy – a victim of his own stupidity when he used a credit card under an old alias – and he’d been arrested along with the others. Athena assured them both they wouldn’t be in harms way, at least not for the time being.

Still, memories of bullets, splintered screams, and keeping his boyfriend alive fall through his mind every time he closes his eyes. Physical and mental injuries would take some time to heal.  

Another squeeze against his knee pulls him back into the car, his eyes finding Tommy’s as he replies to Chim. “Thank you guys,” Tommy says warmly, thumb brushing against Buck’s knee.

“Y-Yeah, thank you,” Buck echoes, “We’ll be okay – a-and let you know if we need anything.”

As the day unfolds, and they finally make it back to the quiet of their home, Buck settles beside Tommy on the couch. The blanket over their legs, the TV humming softly, the world outside forgotten.

Buck studies Tommy, taking in the bold curve of his jaw, the dip of his collarbone, the soft curls hanging over his face. He memorizes every stroke of skin, every wrinkle and freckle, and holds them tightly, stocking them against the tortured screams that he finds now in stillness.

“What are you thinking about?” Tommy asks, his voice soft but knowing. He senses the unease that still lingers in Buck’s chest.

“You,” Buck whispers, his voice barely audible. “Alive. Here. How happy I am that you are.”

He reaches out and brushes his fingers against Tommy’s brow, careful to avoid any stiches or marks that scream from across his skin. Tears burn behind his eyes, his vision blurring as he considers the alternative.

Life without Tommy. It fills him with a cold darkness, one that pushes against his relief, threatens to drag him under. Until Tommy leans in, pressing a kiss against his lips, his arm wrapping loosely around Buck’s shoulders. Warmth fights against the chill that tugged at him moments before.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Tommy hums against him.

“T-Tommy if anything happened –”

“Hey,” Tommy pulls him back, gazing into his eyes, fierce and focused. “We’re okay. Nothing happened. Let’s not play that game.”

Buck nods, his anxious thoughts quieting, the fear fading into the warmth of Tommy’s embrace.

“I love you,” he says instead, the words so familiar they feel like a reset, like the home screen, a perfect foundation for the rest of his world to grow steadily from.

“I love you too,” Tommy murmurs, curling impossibly closer, and Buck knows, no matter what they face, as long as they have each other, they’ll always find a way to make it home.

thanks for following along if you joined me this week! hope you had as much fun as i did! 💕

full fic on ao3

[bucktommyangstweek]

Written for @bucktommyangstweek, Day 7: Near Death Experiences (Tw: blood, gunshot wounds)

It’s amazing, Tommy muses, how everyone always thinks they still have time. Until they don’t. Death is the only thing in life that’s certain. You usually don’t know when it’s going to happen. You can prepare yourself. But it’s still going to hit you unexpectedly.

Tommy always thought he would crash his helicopter.

Into a forest or the ocean, maybe. Thought he would fall from the sky and explode on the ground. Not a nice way to go. But fast. At least.

He never thought he would get shot. Didn’t see it coming either.

One moment, he was nervous about meeting his ex on the scene of an accident, and the other one of the guys they were trying to get out of a couple of wrecked sports cars - looked like they were doing some kind of illegal race - pulled out a gun and.

Bang.

Tommy winced.

A single shot was fired. Then, three firefighters wrestled the guy down, pulling the gun out of his hand.

Tommy’s ears were ringing. He opened his mouth and wanted to ask if anyone was hurt. But then, he saw Lucy’s eyes widening as she stared at him. Tommy looked down and saw the blood. Blood pooling out of the hole in his chest. His. His own chest. He was the one who got shot. All that came over Tommy’s lips was a gasp. “Oh.”

He stumbled a step back, swaying.

“Tommy!”

He was. Falling.

Now he’s on the ground, looking up at the sky. Blurry. Blurry blue. Evan’s eyes. Wide and fearful. “Tommy! Stay with me. Breathe. Come on. Breathe!”

Hands pressing down on his chest.

Pushing air out of his lungs. The taste of blood on his lips.

It hurts.

Until it doesn’t.

He’s just cold. And he has the feeling of sinking into an ocean of nothing. A void. Black. And endless.

“No. You won’t! Not now, not like this!”

It’s okay, Tommy wants to say. But he doesn’t even have air to breathe. He can just wheeze and try to keep his eyes open as long as possible, to look at Evan.

Evan is crying. Oh. He’s sad. It’s kind of nice to have someone crying for him. That’s probably a selfish thought, right? Especially after what Tommy did to Evan. Tommy left him. Right after Evan wanted to take the next step. He had been so hopeful that day. So open and honest. And Tommy. Tommy was a coward.

I’m sorry. 

I wish I could tell you how happy you made me.

“You’re not dying on me,” Evan says, gripping Tommy’s hand while the paramedics are working around him. “You’re not. You’re not leaving me again.”

I’m sorry.

I wish I weren’t so damaged. You deserved better.

Tommy can’t keep his eyes open anymore. He can feel the void reaching for him. Pulling him away. The world fades, gradually darkening. The cold is an embrace now, numbing him. The last thing he's aware of is the tight grip around his hand. At least he isn’t dying alone ...

“Hey, don't ... open your eyes, Tommy. Tommy! Stay with me, come on!" I’m sorry.

I wish I would have found the courage to stay longer.

While Evan’s tears drop on his face, Tommy falls again.

* Dark.

Cold.

Floating.

Rushing.

A light. Penetrating the darkness. From above.

He can. Reach it. He should.

Everything is going to feel better if he does. Find his way to the light.

But.

From somewhere behind him.

Someone is calling. His name.

Sobbing.

So brokenly.

Begging.

For another chance.

Wait.

There's another chance?

Hope.

Blossoming.

He turns away from the light. Back to the cold. Back to floating.

The echo of a pulsing heart vibrates from the walls. Trying to find its way. Out of the darkness.

Back.

Back home.

* "Hey. You came back."

(AO3 Link)

[bucktommyangstweek]

Title: Never Had a Chance

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Rating: T

Written for day four of @bucktommyangstweek: on the job accident.

Contains: trans!buck, miscarriage

Summary:

He sobbed, feeling his heart ache for a life he didn’t even know was inside him. “I-I did this, didn't I?! When I fell? I did this!”

[bucktommyangstweek]

Written for @bucktommyangstweek, Day 6: Bedside Vigils (Spoilers for season 8 episode 11)

“Hey, Tommy. Sorry, I'm late today. I was a bit busy.

I tried something new. My therapist suggested that. Said an activity that includes taking care of something might help me with, with the restlessness and the overthinking. 

So I started to build a little garden. It’s not much. Yet. Just a beet for vegetables, berries, and a few pots for flowers. But it’s fun. I’m getting excited about seeing everything grow. I mean, hopefully, it grows. If I don’t mess it up.

I’m most excited for the strawberries. Going to bake a cake for you when they’re ripe. You have to be awake to eat it though.

I know you ... you needed a lot of rest. So that your body can heal. But you can wake up anytime now, okay?

Please. 

Tommy. Please wake up.”

* They crash through the door, already all over each other, unable to keep their hands or mouths off each other.

Buck feels delirious. His heart is racing, his thoughts are in shambles. Is this a bad idea? If it is, it doesn’t feel like one. He doesn’t want to stop. His world consists of Tommy’s familiar smell and warmth, Tommy’s big hands, Tommy’s lips mouthing at his neck, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

Buck doesn’t want to stop.

So he doesn’t.

And when Tommy leaves in the morning after his face shows a tiny fracture of pain before he closes it off again, his walls up, Buck can still hear the echo of a moan reverberating in his head.

“Evan …” *

“Hey, Tommy. 

Today was Jee’s birthday party. It’s amazing how fast kids grow. I baked her a cake. Also brought a piece for you. I know, you can’t eat it. So … I’m going to eat it. It’s chocolate. I think you would have liked it.

She asked about you, you know? Asked about Uncle Tommy. She also did that after we broke up. When we were baking cookies together at the loft, Jee said she wanted to bake one for you too. With extra chocolate she said.

She was here with Maddie and Chimney yesterday. So if you wake up and see the card with the drawing of the helicopter, that’s from Jee. Please. Wake up, Tommy. Wake up, so that you can eat your cake and tell Jee how much you love her drawing.

I do have strawberries in my garden now, by the way. A lot of them. I would love to share them with you.

God. Now I'm crying again.

I can't believe how many tears the human body can produce. Please. Tommy.  You are missed. You ... You have so many things waiting for you here. Please. Come back."

* “Hey, thank you for agreeing to meet me,” Buck says and it’s a deja vu.

“Of course,” Tommy says quietly, sitting opposite him. He takes a sip of his coffee and smiles. “You got it right this time.”

“Yeah.” Buck clears his throat. “So … I, uh, I wanted to apologize. I wasn’t fair to you. Not only was that comment I made about not having feelings for everyone I have sex with … really bad timing. I also realized that … I was lonely. That house. It didn’t feel like home at all. And then you … I saw you. And I wanted things to get back to how they used to. So I pulled you back with me. I tried to, at least. I guess I was using the sex with you to distract myself from the fact, that I was unable to deal with all the changes that have happened in my life lately. In a very short time. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He stops, feeling a bit breathless.

Tommy looks at him for a moment, his expression hard to read. Finally, he nods and says, “I get it.” “You do?” Buck asks, relieved.

“I was lonely too,” Tommy says. “So, I guess we kind of used each other that night. It’s okay. We don’t have to … overcomplicate things. It was sex.”

“Amazing sex,” Buck blurts.

“It was,” Tommy agrees, glancing at Buck while taking a sip of his coffee.

Silence falls as they look into each other’s eyes. The sun is falling on Tommy’s, making them sparkle like the ocean on a clear summer day. Fuck. Buck grips his own knee tight. He wants him. Tommy is not angry. And it’s just sex, right? Amazing sex. Tommy said so himself.

“Hey. Do you, uh, want to see my new bed?” Buck asks as casually as possible.

Tommy puts the mug down with a swallow, shifting his weight like he’s already about to get up. “Hell yeah.”

* "Hey, Tommy.

I, uh, had a talk with your cousin today. Please don’t be angry. I … I had to know some things. 

I’m so sorry you had to go through all that … With your Dad. My parents aren’t great either, well, you know that. But at least they didn’t get drunk and … and I didn’t have to hide in my closet. Your cousin told me about your Mum too. I’m sorry she died so soon. Too soon. You probably missed her a lot.

I can understand you went to join the army as soon as possible, to get away. From things. 

Your cousin told me you always were obsessed with flying. Planes. Helicopters. I, uh, I bought a book. I’m sure you know all these things already. But I don’t. I thought I was going to read it to you. So I can learn. And you can … maybe you can listen and wake up and tell me what’s your favorite type of helicopter. I really wish you would talk to me.

I miss you.

Please. Wake up soon, Tommy. Wake up.”

* “You’re already leaving?” Buck asks, disappointed. 

He shouldn’t be. After all, this is … something they do now. They have amazing sex. Fun times. And most times, if they have the time, they’re eating breakfast together, just talking about what is happening in their life right now. 

Well. It’s usually Buck who does the talking. Tommy is mostly listening and reacting. Buck tries to think about something he learned about Tommy this week. His throat tightens.

“Yeah, I have to be at the station a little earlier today,” Tommy says easily, putting on his shoes. “I promised to show the new probie around.”

“Okay,” Buck says. He should just let Tommy go. It’s not like they are … in a relationship. But still. Something about this hurts .

He stays in bed a little, thinking. Thinking back to when Tommy broke up with him. Tommy said he knew Buck would end up breaking his heart. He said he couldn’t be Buck’s first and his last. Tommy thought Eddie might be competition. Tommy was hurt when Buck said he doesn’t need to have feelings for everyone he has sex with, but instead of addressing it, he quickly decided to not try again and left. He left. Again.

Buck puts the pieces together. They show him a painful image. Is Tommy scared of committing to a relationship because he did that in the past and got hurt? So hurt that now he’s guarding his heart?

Fuck.

Buck swallows and reaches for his phone, opening his chat with Tommy.

Hey. Can we talk later? Just talk. He types.

* “Hey, Tommy.

I did some digging again. Please don’t be mad. And don’t be mad at Lucy either. We … we are trying to cope, you know? And I’m trying to understand some things. Before ... Nevermind. We have to keep the hope up, right? Yeah. That's what we do.

Anyway, Lucy told me that you had a boyfriend. And … and that he left you because of someone else. Right when you were ready to propose. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I can imagine how painful that must have been. You didn’t deserve that.

You deserve someone who stays. You deserve to be loved, Tommy. I know you probably don’t believe that, but you’re such an amazing, caring, loving, interesting, funny, handsome person. You really are. You took such good care of me. And every time I see you, I feel a little shy suddenly, haha. I really do. Shy and awkward. Like a duck.

Tommy. I … I still want to try again. I really do.

So, please. Wake up. Come back to me. Come back home.”

* “Buck.”

“Hey, Bobby, I was just about to clean -”

“Buck, I need you to come to my office with me.”

Buck’s smile drops.

Bobby looks at him seriously. Too serious.

Buck looks around the firehouse. The others are glancing at them, surprise and worry in their eyes. 

“You can say it,” Buck tells Bobby. “It’s okay if they hear it. Who … who got hurt?”

“I got the call a few minutes ago. Tommy’s helicopter crashed.”

Buck forgets to breathe. The world blurs. “No …”

“He’s in critical condition. And not conscious. You’re still his emergency contact. And they want to talk to you, since … Since Tommy also put you as his proxy and they believe you might have to make a few decisions.” Bobby puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Buck. I know things have been difficult between you two. But this … You’re excused, of course.”

Buck doesn’t know what to say. His blood is rushing in his ears. “I … I wanted to talk to him today,” he breathes.

“Buck,” Chimney says, placing a hand on his back. “Hey, I will drive you to the hospital, okay? You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I wanted to talk to him,” Buck repeats numbly.

~ “You can talk to him,” the doctor tells him. “We do believe that coma patients recognize voices.”

Buck nods, unable to tear his gaze away from Tommy.

He looks so small. He’s never small. 

“Hey, Tommy,” Buck says hoarsely. “I wanted to talk to you today. So … That’s what I’m going to do.”

* “Hey, Tommy.

Tommy?

Tommy! Oh my God, Tommy!

Hey, look at me! You will be okay. Everything will be okay. Just … Just keep looking at me.

I’m here. I love you, you hear me? I love you, Tommy.

I’m here.”

(AO3 Link)

[bucktommyangstweek]

masterpost: BuckTommy Angst Week

read all on the ao3

short fics (≤500 words) written as part of @bucktommyangstweek.

if you read along this week: thank you so much! if you're just catching up: have fun! YAY ANGST!

---

total word count: 3.5k; status: complete tags: no archive warnings apply; specific cw's at each link notes: these are all standalone stories, and take place in various states of together/broken up/working on it.

---

table of contents all of the original tumblr posts can be found under the tag. links below are to the ao3 chapters.

Day 1 - Crash That Jeep

This is what he gets for asking Evan to take it slow, Tommy thinks. This is what he gets for wanting and asking for another chance.

Day 2 - Panic Attack

"It's not fair, it's not, it's not."

Over his head, Buck faintly hears someone whisper: Is he okay? Tommy shifts, maybe to make some gesture, but he also holds Buck closer. 

Day 3 - Kidnapping

Athena calls him when he's already 10 minutes from the scene.

"TikTok told me about the hot LAFD pilot in a hostage situation like a half-hour ago! When was someone gonna call me?"

Day 4 - On the Job Accident

Through the chaos at the scene, Buck sees a familiar form, gait, jawline, name on the turnouts. He doesn't realize he's making his way to Tommy until he's almost there. 

Day 5 - Missing in Action

Detective Romero asks, "But how did he go missing during a call?"

Athena replies, "It was a dog last time. By the time we're done listing the possibilities, he'll be home."

Day 6 - Bedside Vigil

Tommy's never thought much about the expression spitting mad, but goddamn if he isn't feeling it now while he and Evan sit in the ICU at Tom Kinard Sr.'s bedside.

Day 7 - Near Death Experience

"Seven years never meeting on calls, not even after breaking up, and now we're buried alive under a parking lot."

[bucktommyangstweek]

BuckTommy Angst Week - Day 7 - Near Death Experience

@bucktommyangstweek

notes: broken-up bucktommy, hopeful ending. not exactly an 8x11 coda, but building off those ~themes. 500 words.

these will all be up on the ao3 later today. thank you so much for reading and sharing this week!!!! damn, what a week 🫠

---

"Seven years never meeting on calls, not even after breaking up, and now we're buried alive under a parking lot."

Crews are digging them out, but they're surrounded by cement and asphalt and at least one car, all slowly robbing their oxygen and crushing them to death. Just them. Just the two of them.

Maybe they don't need the crew overhead; maybe Buck's anger will vibrate everything around them to pieces and free them.

"Tommy, we don't have a lot of oxygen. If you're going to talk, say something."

There's silence, except for the work overhead.

"Tell me something true," Buck says.

Tommy's quiet for so long that Buck checks he didn't actually suffocate in silence. He hasn't, but the silence might suffocate them faster.

"Do you think you could ever love me?" Tommy asks.

Buck startles and jostles some debris around them. He swears under his breath and takes his time thinking. Every breath counts.

"I already do." Buck thinks. "Do you actually want a partner?"

Tommy's head whips up, more debris scattering. "You think—"

"You tell me something true," Buck snaps.

And then he waits. And Tommy takes his time.

Tommy says, every word carefully laid down: "Yes, but I don't know how to keep you."

Buck stares ahead. Love-me-anyway. Love-me-anyway. Love-me-anyway. Love-me-anyway. Every time he fucks up with Tommy, says or does the wrong thing, his heartbeat takes up that rhythm. Love-me-a-ny-way. Can't Tommy hear it?

"Stop running from me," Buck says.

Tommy's eyes are wide and haunted, like he's searching the entire lexicon of words for what to say. He still has something to say.

"I don't think I can do this."

Buck ducks his head, tries not to crumble, even if it would solve everyone's problems overhead.

Tommy adds, "This feels like peeling off my skin with a knife, and I don't know if I can do that every day, hoping you'll stay."

"You can't… be yourself?"

Their eyes meet for the first time. Tommy says, "I know you won't like him."

"You don't know that." Buck's just—angry again. Through clenched teeth he says: "You think you know what I want. You don't listen to me. You give me something I might want. But it's not real. It's not you."

Buck doesn't care; he rubs his glove across his face, streaks it with more dirt. "Being with someone… but not being someone. What's the point?"

Their voices and words have been so quiet, careful, stunted, blunt, hard. Who cares? They're gonna die anyway.

"Do you think that's why I'm alone?" Tommy asks. "People knock and think it's empty?"

Buck silently meets his eyes. Tommy nods.

Suddenly, there's a huge groan above them. The biggest asphalt slab shifts, lets in moonlight and night air.

Buck grabs Tommy's hand. "Leave it here. All of it. Take it off. Leave it."

"I'm scared, Evan."

"Now you're scared?" Tommy can't help laughing. Buck squeezes his hand. "You make me brave. I'll make you brave, too."