carpenoctem-tharea

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the council will now decide your fate

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inspired by this post from @bucksboobs

Buck stands on the balcony overlooking the firehouse floor. It’s weird to see this many people here. It’s weird to see so many bodies dressed in mournful black and dutiful dress blues. Again. 

Usually, if people are crowding the firehouse like this, it’s for a celebration: Christmas, Halloween, a medal ceremony. Usually, when familiar faces pack in among the engines and ambulances, they’re smiling. They’re laughing, bragging about their kids, calling happily to each other across the room. Usually, when people are here, they’re having a good time. 

Buck looks out over the maybe fifty people in attendance. He doesn’t see a single smile. 

Chimney is still standing by the plaque, leaned up on an easel. Frown firmly in place, eyebrows pinched together, he’s holding his son, helping him run his tiny baby fingers over the name Robert Nash. Buck has to look away. 

It had been a good ceremony. Hen had unveiled the plaque—Bobby’s plaque, Bobby’s memorial plaque, the one that officially renames the firehouse and commends his sacrifice in the line of duty. In a way, that was a celebration, but not the kind that lifts your spirits. It’s serious, somber—bittersweet at best. Chimney had given a speech devoid of his usual humor. It was a beautiful speech, perfect for the occasion and his new position, but he’d looked hollow, terrified, guilty. They all did, Buck supposed. 

“Have you eaten?” 

Buck knows that voice. He knows the owner of that voice is here, had seen him in the third row when he had chanced a glance back into the crowd. He can’t get himself to turn around. 

“It feels wrong,” he says instead. “No one is smiling. No one is laughing.” 

“Well, it would be kind of shitty if they were,” the voice says, closer now. “We’re not exactly here for a happy occasion.” 

“Bobby made people happy. Bobby helped people figure out how to be happy. This…” Buck waves a hand over the somber crowd. ”This isn’t his legacy. He wouldn’t want a room full of people frowning because of him.” 

“You’re not smiling.” 

“What do I have to smile about?” 

The voice is quiet for a moment. 

“How about this,” it comes back with. “You eat this piece of cake, and I’ll give you a big old grin when you’re done.” 

Buck turns his head just enough to see Tommy standing next to him. Tommy’s lips tip up at the edges just enough to tease a smile as he offers Buck the plate. 

Buck takes it. “Why do they even have cake at these things?” 

“Maybe they want people to smile as much as you do. Cake always helps with that.” 

Buck is well aware of the therapeutic powers of baked goods. He’s had almost a year of practice. 

He takes a small corner of the slice onto his fork. He barely tastes it, but he does feel Tommy’s eyes on him as he slips it into his mouth. Some combination of the sugar and the approving gaze starts to clear the mournful fog from his mind. 

“Thank you,” Buck says around the first bite. 

“Of course. It was going quick, I didn’t want you to miss out. You looked like you needed it more than Ravi needed a third piece. That kid can put it away.” Tommy studies him for a moment. “How are you holding up?” 

Buck hadn’t known how hungry he was. Before he’d even thought about it, he’d packed one bite after another into his mouth, and suddenly he finds that the entire slice of cake is in his mouth. He just looks at Tommy wide-eyed, cheeks stuffed full, unable to speak. It’s like he’s 26 and messy again, sloppy in the way that Bobby taught him how to slow down enough to grow out of. He’d be embarrassed about it if Tommy wasn’t looking at him with such kind, amused eyes. 

The skin around the sides of those eyes crinkles when Tommy laughs, quick and bright. The sound of it resonates in Buck’s chest, kicks up his heart rate to match. 

“Sorry,” Tommy says, not sounding sorry at all. “You look like a sad chipmunk.” 

Buck makes an indignant noise, but it’s a joke. He knows what he looks like. It’s good to hear Tommy laugh at him again. It’s good to hear a laugh in the firehouse today, to see a smile as rich as Tommy’s. Buck is feeling better already. 

He manages to swallow enough of the cake that he can speak again, even if it’s garbled. “Chipmunks are cute, right?” 

“Chipmunks are adorable,” Tommy agrees. “Especially when they have frosting on their faces.”

Tommy leans closer and brings a hand up close to Buck’s face. His thumb runs gently over the edge of Buck’s lower lip and comes away with red and white frosting. It sends heat shooting up and down Buck’s body. He’s almost disappointed when Tommy wipes the frosting on a napkin instead of taking it into his own mouth—or, better yet, feeding it back to Buck. 

God, Tommy looks good. Buck swallows the rest of the cake as fast as he can. 

He sets the empty plate and fork down on a high table behind him, then slowly steps closer to Tommy. 

“Hey, uh, tell me if I’m reading this wrong, but are you… flirting with me at a memorial?” Buck tilts his head and smiles to let Tommy know just how welcome that would be. 

Tommy scoffs jokingly. “First of all, it’s a plaque dedication ceremony. Totally different.” 

Buck hums a teasing mhmm. He can’t stop smiling. 

“Second of all…” Tommy continues. “That wasn’t my intention when I came up here. I really did just want to check on you.” 

Buck looks up at him through his lashes. “And what, I’m just too irresistible?” 

“Something like that.” Tommy’s voice goes quiet, his eyes flick down to Buck’s lips. “You can tell me to fuck off if you want. Or at least to back off. You’re going through a lot. I’ve put you through a lot. I’ll understand.” 

“I don’t want you to.” Buck leans closer to Tommy and the whole firehouse disappears. It’s just the two of them again. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too.” 

Tommy smiles at Buck, soft and fond. No one has ever looked at Buck the way Tommy does. He smiles back helplessly. 

“You know,” Tommy continues, voice low and intimate like it was at the bar, like Buck has heard it a hundred times. “Before things went sideways at the lab, I was going to ask to see you again. I figured you’d probably say no, and that would be that, but I had to try one more time.” 

So Buck hadn’t imagined the look on Tommy’s face in the helicopter, the way he’d softened when he said he was doing this for Chimney and for Buck. Buck hadn’t imagined the way Tommy knocked their knees together in the FBI van back to the lab, pressing his leg against Buck’s bouncing one to help calm him down. Even after what Buck said the morning after their hookup, Tommy still wanted him. 

“I would’ve said yes,” Buck says. “If things hadn’t gone sideways, I mean.” 

Tommy smiles. “And now?” 

“And now…” Buck smooths a hand over the lapel of Tommy’s jacket, fiddles with a button. “What are you doing on Saturday?”

“Depends.” Tommy’s hand settles on Buck’s waist, big and warm. “What are you thinking?” 

“Well, I just moved again. New place, blank slate. We could have dinner and just… talk.” 

“Just talk?” Tommy clarifies, eyebrow raised. 

“Just talk,” Buck confirms. “I, uh, I know we’re not great at that, but I think that’s how we got here in the first place. Bobby would say, just slow down and talk to each other. So yeah. Just talk.” 

Tommy nods. “I could be free on Saturday just to talk with you.” 

“Yeah? Cool.” 

Buck ducks his head and grins. Tommy grins back. The giddiness bubbles between them like the champagne they never got a chance to drink.

[carpenoctem-tharea]

everyone is yelling at me in the tags of my new wip, so here's a palate cleanser in the form of a fluffy scene for detuned radio

uncle buck 5ever

~

Jee flops on Buck's chest and screeches into his ear. "Stoooooop!"

"I'm sorry," Buck gasps, carpet fibers tickling the back of his head as he continues digging his fingers between her ribs. "I thought you were a robber trying to get my wallet."

"Gimme your money!" she growls with glee, just as something tugs at his hair.

"A-ha!" Buck says, bracing Jee so he can flip around. "I am surrounded."

Bertie smiles at him, a joyous beaming thing. He waves his little hands, one still attached to a lock of Buck's hair.

"Help!" Buck yells. "Murder!"

When the bell rings, Buck scoops up the baby and pretends to munch on his arm. With Jee glued to his leg, it takes a minute for him to amble to the door, and he's so certain it's a delivery person that he brings Bertie up to gobble on his belly.

"Evan?" he hears, along with a deeper laugh to join the kids' high-pitched giggles.

Buck adjusts his hold on Bertie, who's laughed himself to adorable little hitches in his breath. "Oh... My god."

"Just me, I'm afraid," Tommy says, flippant and uneasy.

He puts one hand on a suddenly silent Jee's head. "I have the kids today. I'm sorry."

"You got a better offer. It's understandable."

"It's not that." Buck struggles to come up with the words, unsure of how much to share. He's looked after the kids on his own for brief stretches of time. He's taken them out separately, often to join the Wilsons. Being asked to watch them both for an entire day is a sign of trust, not just in him but in his recovery. The moment they asked he dove in headfirst and forgot what day it was.

"Who are you?" Jee says, her face half smushed into Buck's leg.

"This is my friend Tommy. You met him a few times. He gave you the elephant a couple birthdays ago?"

"I was told you like elephants," Tommy says. His fingers are twitching at his side.

"I don't like elephants no more." It's koalas now, but only the brown ones. The gray ones look "dying dying dead" according to her.

"Oh."

"But I like him! He's soft. And pink."

"Okay. Good."

"Less soft now after a long period of being loved," Buck confides.

"Nice," Tommy says. "Well-"

Bertie lets out a "no one is paying attention to me" shriek and the air is filled with awkward laughter. Buck gnaws at Bertie's neck, making cartoon monster noises. That satisfies him for the moment, allowing Buck to risk splitting his attention.

"So, uh. I know this isn't what- what we planned, but you could join us for a bit?"

Tommy's eyes dart inside. "Would the Hans be okay with that?"

"Tommy, you saved Chim's life."

"Flying a helicopter is a little different from spending time alone with a guy's almost microscopic children."

"Oh!" Jee says, and she takes off so quickly she pushes against Buck's hip to get more momentum. Both men watch her go, then look at each other.

"That feels like a 'hell no, don't let that virtual stranger in my house' to me."

"No, she would've said it to me in Korean first, before jetting." Jee has been more anxious and clingy since his attempt--more like since her mom started disappearing for days at a time, her baby brother lived somewhere else, and she spent long stretches with just her dad.

Buck doesn't feel guilty about it. He refuses to let himself. She'll be okay. Both of the kids are amazing.

"Nevertheless," Tommy says.

His graceful exit is cut off by Jee's return. She is smiling shyly and holding up the propeller hat someone got for the baby. Buck takes it from her and puts it on Bertie, who by some miracle does not throw it off within zero point three seconds.

"His helicopter hat," she pronounces. "Does he look like a real helicopter?"

Tommy pushes his lips together like his face can't decide what to do. "Yes, Jee-Yun," he says, after a moment. "He looks exactly like I could get into him and fly away." He makes a move as though preparing to take Bertie from Buck's arms. "Should I try right now?"

"No!" she cries, laughing.

He frowns. "No?"

"No, I would miss him for the rest of my life."

"You could visit him at our hangar," Tommy offers, sizing up the baby. "I think he'd get along really well with the other helicopters."

Bertie, who has spent the last minute or so just pleased to be included in the conversation, shakes the hat off and reaches for Tommy.

"Uh." Tommy accepts the baby, his expression aggressively neutral, while Jee grabs the hat from the floor.

"Come in already," Buck says. "There's a badminton set in one of these closets. We played last spring."

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i'm sorry i've been stuck here for days now but i can't stop thinking about buck and tommy gently, carefully coming back to each other's lives in the single dad buck universe. after tommy and the little thing get their issues sorted out, tommy starts coming over more often and stays longer. he buys the kid another toy car because the apology goes something like "i'm sorry i shouted at you, and hit you, and told you to leave our house, and screamed when you touched my head, and threw your gift off the balcony mr. kinard. you can buy me another one if you want 🥺" and he starts sleeping over too, first leaving early at dawn before the little buckley wakes up and later being woken up by his clang and clatterer entering buck's room in the mornings as buck does. and buck just loves watching them become friends, seeing tommy spin his son in the air till the baby is giggling breathless and his silly here comes a helicopter way to convince him to eat brussel sprouts that doesn't work.

anyway he enters the living room one afternoon on the weekend where he'd left tommy with his kid watching cartoons together but he finds them sprawled on the couch, tommy on his back gently snoring and the kid on top of him with his cheek smushed on tommy's chest and his closed lashes fluttering. they look so comfortable and tommy's hand bracing his child looks so right and protective so buck's overcome with love. he kneels beside them and touches tommy's sleeping face, the lines so much deeper than he remembered but has been relearning in the last couple of months. he knows tommy will wake up when he touches the corner of his eye so he does and tommy startles. buck hushes him, so the baby keeps sleeping, and tommy whispers "is everything okay?" and caressing his cheek buck says hums "yeah. just wanted to tell you i love you." and this is the first time either of them ever say that so tommy goes stunned first, then soft, then checks to see the kid's still sleeping, and securing his hold on him shuffles forward a little and kisses buck

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w i p wednesday

i was tagged by @owlgirl495 and @rcmclachlan and like -- look, i promised myself i was gonna focus on the long angsty fic i'm writing BUT i really just wanted to write something incredibly indulgent and sexy. so i sent buck and tommy to rome bc it's one of my favourite cities.

Of all the places Buck thought he'd find himself at the end of the summer, Rome wasn't one of them. The hot, narrow streets of the city lull him into an unusual, dreamy sort of comfort that LA's sprawling cityscape couldn't offer him.

The stone wall of their holiday coffee spot is baking hot against Buck's back as he leans against it. Beside him, Tommy plays navigator with his phone in one hand and a comically small espresso in the other. Three-wheeled delivery trucks rattle along the smooth, time-polished cobblestones and scooters and bikes zoom by as locals dodge and weave around them with preternatural ability.

Everything is so alive here, Buck thinks. It's not like LA thriving, too, but he's been witness to too much death there for it to feel like anything other than a transient space he's responsible for care-taking.

Here, though, he's doesn't have to be a hero. Sure, if the delivery guy sucking back a cigarette at double-speed keeled over he'd jump in but, otherwise, what's happening around the corner is none of his business. There's no response necessary other than acknowledging his boyfriend's efforts to give Buck the kind of break he needs.

Tommy's a big leave it to me kinda guy and for the first time, maybe ever, Buck's ok with someone else doing the heavy lifting. Loving hands can make light work of the heavy burden of grief, and though Buck's finding new and creative ways to carry it, sometimes he needs a little nudge to remind him it's ok to put it down.

Luckily he has a boyfriend who's a former expert at running away from his problems. 'Even better at flying away from them,' Tommy corrected him, before suggesting ten days as strangers to everyone but each other.

been a bit out of the loop recently so if you have something you'd like to share you can consider yourself tagged by me <3

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The Pitt + text posts (5/?)

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Histocompatibility 8,331 words Buck/Tommy Alternate first meeting, s4e5 "Buck Begins"-divergent

On the day Buck learns he was someone else's homegrown defense system, a handsome stranger keeps him company, keeps him distracted, keeps him laughing, and then keeps him safe.

A high and sweet chuckle comes over the line. "I don't know if I can trust the word of someone who thinks the week starts on Sunday." The laugh comes busting out of Buck anyway, loud enough that he's able to ignore the written complaint his headache nails to the inside of his skull. "Riddle me this, TK: why does every calendar start with Sunday if the week starts with Monday?" "It's not my fault Saturday and Sunday look weird when they're next to each other," TK says cheerfully. "Doesn't mean it's wrong. And my name's not TK." "What does 'TK' stand for?" "Thomas Kinard. Call me Tommy—please. Thomas is my father." There's something about the way Tommy says 'father' that plucks a familiar chord inside of Buck, and the note it plays is an entire symphony that tells the tale of years of disappointment and resentment.  Buck curls into himself so he can shield the speaker with his shoulders from the open air of the bedroom. "I vaguely remember you saying something about dropping some of Lake Machado on my parents' house. Is your dad's house next on the list?" "Nah, if I drop anything on his house, it'll be wet cement." Snickering, Buck lays back on the bed and cradles the phone with a hand, grinning like an idiot at the ceiling. "That's not very nice, Tommy Kinard." "Maybe I'm not a very nice person, Evan Buckley." "I don't think that's true," Buck murmurs, throat full of gravel. He wants to blame it on the hangover but he doesn't think he can. And he doesn't want to. "I think you're a very nice person. You plugged my phone in." "Your battery was running at a whopping 9%, Evan. Of course I plugged it in."

Read on AO3

(Original Tumblr post)

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Chocolate guy... What the fuck!?

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tattooed on my heart

BUCKTOMMY | G | 882 WORDS | AO3

It's quiet.

Maybe too quiet.

Tommy frowns, trying to remember the last time he heard any noise coming from Robbie's room, but he's drawing a blank. Sighing, he pushes to his feet, heading down the hall.

"Robs?" he calls quietly, pushing on the door. "How you doing, kidd—oh."

-> ON AO3

thank you @epiphainie for helping inspire my frantically writing this at 1am 💛

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new fic: if there's trouble, go (home)

bucktommy; 50k; explicit; complete

tags: set post s8; future fic; kid fic; depictions of depression/suicidal thoughts; grief/mourning; emotional hurt/comfort; bucktommy fix-it; 118 criticalish; anti eddie diaz

notes: so this is the runaway fic (aka the layla and bailey verse). it'll be clear that this started out as a road trip fic and then grew a "reconcile with the past and move on" story around it. the fic is three chapters with two additional scenes (the one where buck and tommy meet their kids, and buck and tommy's wedding).

thank you so much to everyone who's been engaging with this since it started torturing me like 5 minutes after s8 ended. thank you to my friends who put up with even more whining for just as long.

Summary:

After Bobby's death, Buck and Tommy leave Los Angeles to start a new life together. Five years later, they have to go back.

Excerpt:

"It felt too impersonal to do it over a text or email," Athena finally says. "Soon it'll be five years since Bobby died." "Yeah, it will be," Buck says quietly, nodding along. "May, Harry, and I are hosting a celebration of life for the anniversary," Athena says. "I wanted to invite you, the four of you, to come. I want to have a real celebration of who he was, with all of us who loved him. It wouldn't be complete without you, Buck."

[carpenoctem-tharea]

ferris wheel on fire by newtkelly

cover art by @thetouchof118

Chapters: 1/3

Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Tommy Kinard

Summary:

A tenth of what keeps California running hails from the hearth of this modern relic. It’s legitimately riveting. The scale of it is nearly unfathomable.

How is it possible that Tommy's the same age as this monolith of the nuclear age? It jars him, it humbles him. Both of them have spent forty years going and going, not stopping for breath.

—

Tommy and Evan find each other again. All it takes is a power plant, a corrupt fire chief, and a couple of exes.

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Not attached to anything I'm writing, feel free to add on or adapt into your own stuff

+++

Evan's at the pond in the park near Tommy's place, tossing handfuls of birdseed into the water for the ducks.

Tommy sits next to him. "Most people give them bread."

"My bread is too good for the birds," Evan says, bumping his shoulder with Tommy's. "You should try it sometime."

"I'd like to."

They sit in silence for a while, until Evan runs out of birdseed. Then Tommy ventures, "How's things with you?"

Evan doesn't reply immediately. Tommy waits. Finally, Evan says, "Everything sucks." He blows out a breath and chuckles humorlessly. "Understatement of the century."

Unsure if his input is needed, Tommy leans against the younger man, and waits some more.

"I'm supposed to... I'm supposed to be okay, to be fine, but I'm not, and it's stupid, I should be fine, but I dread waking up every day. I dread it. I wake up and I wish–" he cuts himself off before he finishes the sentence.

On impulse, Tommy hugs him and presses a kiss to his temple, and another to his cheek. "You should feel whatever you are feeling, Evan. But never wish to be... Never wish to be not here, okay? Please. I don't think I can bear a world that doesn't have you in it."

Evan's breathing grows ragged. "Th-that's what I used to think, about... about Bobby. That it's not, it's not a world worth keeping, if he isn't here, and it isn't, Tommy, it isn't, it isn't fair that he's gone, and I can't bear it..." He trails off on a broken sob.

Trailing his fingers through Evan's curls, Tommy thinks desperately for something he can do or say. He holds Evan, who is shaking apart in grief in his arms here in the park on an overcast morning.

After a long moment, when Evan's weeping calms down enough for him to pull back and swipe at his puffy eyes, Tommy says, "I heard this a long time ago. I didn't understand it when I first heard it, but over time I've come to get it."

Evan sniffs and raises a quizzical eyebrow.

"The hardest thing in the world," Tommy intones, looking right at Evan, hoping all of his care and all of his love is evident from his gaze, "is to live in it."

Evan inhales sharply, and then smiles. A shaky, watercolor of a smile that's been left out in the rain, but Tommy will take what he can get.

"It is," Evan murmurs. Then he nods. "It really is."

"But you gotta do it. For him."

"It hurts, Tommy."

"I'll help," Tommy promises. Heart on a platter again. Fuck it, Evan's worth it. "I'll help however I can."

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She

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wip wednesday

tagged by @rcmclachlan @geddyqueer @bucktommyyendgame @ambernotember @herrmannhalsteadproduction @hereghostslive @typicalopposite @politenotice

tagging them plus @apollabarnes @bluroux @frogsinflannel @bidisasterevankinard @freneticfloetry @fyrehose

here's a little contagion role swap with chimney in buck's place

~~~

"Bobby, what the hell are you doing? Open the door."

Bobby takes off his helmet and respirator. His pallor, the trickle of blood from his nose, those dots connect to make Chimney's head explode. He slams his hand against the glass.

"Captain Nash, you open this goddamn door!"

"Chim," Bobby says. "You did what you could. You saved the team. It was too late for me hours ago."

"Bobby," Chim pleads.

Bobby is infuriatingly calm. "You're our glue, Chimney. Almost losing you is what made us a family. They're gonna need you to keep them together now."

Chimney pounds on the glass, causing pain to reverberate through his fist. "Screw you. Don't put that on me. Remember that time I was in charge?"

"I have always had every faith in you."

"What on Earth am I supposed to say to Buck, huh? You tell me that."

"You tell him he's not alone. And then you prove it." His eyes shining with tears, Bobby sags, finally seeming to feel the weight of this. Chim sees an opening.

"Just come out and let us help you. Bobby, come on. We'll figure it out like we always do."

Bobby shakes his head gently, conserving every last bit of strength. "This is my last order, firefighter. Look out for them."

"No," Chim cries, one last ditch attempt to dig in his feet.

Bobby smiles and it looks like the dictionary definition of goodbye. "I love you guys. Please get my wife."

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I must've had a reason at one time to keep coming back, but I can't think of it right now

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I'm sure the world needs Tiger inspired by Vanessa Stockard's style

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tidbit tuesday

tagged by @o0anapher0o 💛 i am suuuuper hoping to get a draft of this thing finished tomorrow, so thanks for the motivation!

By the time he checks his phone again, Evan has replied—extensively. He's effusive in his enthusiasm and apparently just…gets it, in a way Tommy should have seen coming, but would never have dared to expect. There was a time when he thought letting Evan know him, truly know him, would signal the end for what they had going. But apparently it's the opposite. Tommy's never known someone to like him more, want him more, the more he lets them in.

A wash of boldness overcomes him and he sends Evan a couple of links to the specialty online stores where he buys his stuff. He gets a message full of exclamation points in return and chuckles to himself, follows up with don't bankrupt yourself, then goes about his day. Being seen used to make him feel itchy and uncomfortable and…afraid, honestly. He knows why it's different with Evan, and even that doesn't feel the way he thinks it would. He resolves to tell Evan the next time they see each other.

He doesn't let himself get too in his head about it, even when it turns out the next time they see each other is for breakfast in a diner Evan's been wanting to try, ships passing in the—well, in the morning, between their shifts. He just says it, and Evan looks at him for a second, blinks, smiles.

Says, "I love you, too."

no pressure tags for @exhaustedpirate, @chimneyz, @ambernotember and @apollabarnes