here-there-be-fics

[here-there-be-fics]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV)

Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard

Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley Tommy Kinard

Additional Tags: Karaoke Late Night Conversations Evan "Buck" Buckley Needs A Hug Bisexual Evan "Buck" Buckley Gay Tommy Kinard Getting Back Together Tommy Kinard Has a Cat Post-Canon Mutual Pining Evan "Buck" Buckley Has ADHD

Language: English

Words: 13,198

Chapters: 6/6

SUMMARY: Somebody finally needs Buck.

//

If someone wants to waste some time on a deeply unserious fic, I did gone wrote one.

[here-there-be-fics]

WIP Snippet

*nsfw, bottom Tommy

“Evan…” he doesn’t think he’s this close until he hears the total debauchery in his own voice. “-so good. ’s never like ‘tis with anyone else… You. Just you.”

He hears Evan cursing on the other side and he lets out a wet laugh. Somehow Evan’s response sends him more thrills than the vibrator ever could.

“Am I good to you? I’d d-do…anything -fuck, there- to be good to you” He eggs on, intentionally dropping his voice a few octaves low that will for sure drive the blonde crazy. It’s his porn voice. According to Evan, at least.

Evan growls on the other side, the wet, slapping noise bouncing off the wall. Tommy lets out a whine, feeling completely robbed.

[here-there-be-fics]

Buck and a very pregnant Tommy go to Pride 🌈

****

"Sweetheart, are you sure you want to go?" Buck asked. "It's hot, you're exhausted, and you're 41 weeks pregnant."

"I know all of those things, but that's exactly why I want to go," Tommy replied, adjusting his crop top in the blues and greens of the gay men's flag. "I'm going to induce this labor, so we're going to enjoy a parade, buy a bunch of rainbow baby stuff, and walk my pregnant ass around Pride."

Buck watched as Tommy admired his reflection. The vibrant crop top showcased the carefully painted rainbow spread across his very prominent baby bump, paired with denim shorts that had seen better days.

"Okay, if you're sure," Buck replied cautiously, tugging at his own shirt that proudly proclaimed "Jesus Had 2 Dads" while smoothing down his tie-dyed bi flag shorts.

Secretly, Buck had only agreed to this adventure because they were going with two trained paramedics.

"Alright, are you ready to go meet up with everyone?" Buck asked, watching Tommy struggle to bend over.

"Evan," Tommy sighed, "I need you to put my shoes on," he admitted sheepishly.

Buck kissed his forehead tenderly and knelt down without hesitation.

When they arrived downtown, they quickly spotted their group decked out in Pride gear. Buck's face lit up when he saw that Jee was wearing a rainbow tutu and Nash was sporting a shirt that read "I Love My Guncles."

The kids were perched on the stoop with a camping chair strategically positioned next to them. Tommy groaned when he spotted it.

"Seriously?"

"Yep," all the other adults chimed in unison, grinning.

"Fine," Tommy said, shaking his head with a reluctant smile.

As the parade kicked off, the kids bounced excitedly, clapping at the colorful floats and dancing to the cheerful music. Tommy cheered especially loud when the male carrier float passed by, waving enthusiastically.

Someone on the float spotted his bump and pointed, grinning and giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

When the parade wrapped up, the group began exploring the different vendor booths. Buck and Tommy both burst out laughing as they purchased a coffee mug that read, "Bi the Way, I'm Not Just an Ally."

The group wandered up and down the rows of booths as Tommy grew more tired and exasperated, and their wallets became considerably lighter. They stopped to listen to some live music, and Tommy had them all on the lookout for the turkey leg that he had seen someone devouring earlier.

Finally, they all decided it was time to call it a day and head to their respective homes. After a round of hugs, Hen assured Tommy that the baby would be there before he knew it. Tommy just barely stopped himself from scoffing. He felt like he had been pregnant for an eternity.

As they walked into the coolness of their air-conditioned house, Buck started to speak. "Well, at least we had fu—" was all he got out before Tommy pounced on him, pushing him up against the wall and planting a bruising kiss on his lips.

"Whoa, slow down," Buck said with a chuckle.

"Nope," Tommy replied breathlessly. "Evan, we are getting this kid out of me, and you and I both know the best way to induce labor." He yanked Buck toward their bedroom, nearly pulling his arm out of its socket.

They had been intimate for less than ten minutes when they felt a wetness between them.

"Did you?" Buck asked breathlessly.

"No. You?" Tommy replied, equally confused.

Buck shook his head. Tommy pulled himself up from the bed, eyes wide with realization.

"It's baby time!"

Fifteen hours later, their son was born healthy and perfect. And if everyone wanted to believe that Pride was what finally jumpstarted Tommy's labor, well, that was their little secret.

[here-there-be-fics]

Post-reconciliation, where they have a first time that they didn't get around to during their first go at the relationship and maybe that was on purpose on the part of one of them (Tommy?) and something the other didn't realize was being avoided, but it's happening now and it's like a sign of trust.

[now on ao3]

The first time they fucked, Tommy had insisted on bottoming. 

That had worked for Buck. He was ready, but he wasn’t ready ready. He hadn’t known how to put that into words at that time, and he had been grateful to have Tommy guiding him. Tommy had gotten himself ready while Buck had watched. He’d stayed on his hands and knees and instructed Buck to fuck him from behind. It was deeper that way, he’d said. Easier. 

It had been different for Buck at first, lining himself up and looking down over a broad back, but the tight clutch of Tommy’s hole was so delicious that Buck had been surprised he didn’t come on the first press inside. He’d even held out long enough to start to get a sense of what Tommy liked, how he wanted it, what to do to wring some incredibly hot and undignified sounds out of him. Buck had come with his face pressed into Tommy’s spine, and the only thought in his head had been again. It was hot. It was fucking incredible. 

They had fucked like that a few times, when they went further than hands and mouths and simple grinding. Buck memorized the constellations of freckles on Tommy’s back. Soon, though, the way that Tommy threw himself back on Buck’s dick and moaned in such deep pleasure had made Buck too curious about how it felt to wait any longer to try it himself. Tommy had started Buck off with fingers first, slowly moving one, two, then three of his thick fingers inside of Buck; stretching and massaging and wringing an orgasm out of Buck so good that he’d been left drooling against Tommy’s chest until his brain came back online. 

When Buck was ready, Tommy had put him on his back and fucked him gently, watching his face for any signs of discomfort. When none arose, and when Buck dug his heels into the small of Tommy’s back on instinct and begged for it harder, Tommy, please, Tommy had given Buck his first taste of just how good bottoming could be. It had only gotten better from there. 

After that first time, Buck had bottomed more than Tommy did. He hadn’t thought about it like that—he hadn’t thought about it at all. He just started kissing Tommy, rubbing on Tommy, touching Tommy’s broad chest, and then all he wanted to do was feel Tommy inside him, Tommy all around him, enveloping him, Tommy kissing his lips and neck with tender possessive passion, Tommy sweating and grunting into his mouth and telling him how good he was while that fat cock hit places inside of Buck that turned him into a mewling, brainless animal. It was intense. It was addicting. It was the most treasured Buck had ever felt. 

Tommy had seemed happy with the way their dynamic was progressing, and it’s not like he’d never bottomed again during their relationship. He’d done it all the time: bent over the kitchen island, up against the shower wall, on his hands and knees on the bed or the couch or the floor. Buck had fucked Tommy like that and never thought about it beyond yes good Tommy yes. Tommy had moaned and pushed back against him, and that same magic that always brewed between them popped and fizzed and bubbled over. Tommy rode Buck hard and pushed his hands down on Buck’s chest to keep him flat on the bed while Tommy took what he wanted. It was hot. 

So Buck hadn’t thought about it. From the beginning, he had been struck with the near inability to think much around Tommy at all. Their relationship had been such a fuckdrunk blur of easy pleasure and simple joy that Buck hadn’t been able to see that Tommy had been avoiding receiving the intimacy that he gave to Buck. 

That changes after they get back together. 

They’re laying in bed one lazy morning about a month into their second try, wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing and naked from the night before and still giddy about being allowed to have this again. Buck rolls on top of Tommy, settling between his legs without breaking their kiss, and thinking nothing of it. He starts grinding down on Tommy, Tommy ruts up against him, and their breathing turns from sweet sighs to harsh, hungry exhales. 

Buck leans up onto his knees, forcing Tommy’s legs further apart. They wrap around Buck’s hips like a hug, keeping him close. It feels so good to have Tommy around him like this, their limbs tangled and bodies pressed together like they could fuse into one. There’s something different about it that Buck can’t quite put his finger on, but he doesn’t chase the thought. He has more important things on his mind. 

“Wanna fuck you,” Buck breathes against Tommy’s mouth. 

“Yeah.” Tommy nods and kisses Buck harder. “Want you to fuck me. Want you. Fuck, Evan, just like this.” He wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him closer, closer; tightens his legs around Buck’s hips to grind against him better and whines when Buck leans more of his weight down onto him. 

Tommy wasn’t this clingy the first time around, didn’t make these kinds of noises, and Buck is living for it now. He has to lean away and untangle himself a little to find the lube, but the brief moment of separation is worth it when he slides two slick fingers into Tommy and Tommy howls; head thrown back and gorgeous thick neck calling to Buck’s lips like a siren song. Buck kisses, bites, sucks, and Tommy’s moans only spur him on. He knows he’s leaving marks, and Tommy knows he’s leaving marks, and still Tommy holds Buck’s head to his neck in acceptance of Buck’s claim. 

Buck teases and stretches Tommy. He’s still pretty loose from last night, when Buck had fucked him face down into the mattress, hard hard hard as hard as you can Evan, please, I’m yours Evan please please take me. 

That had been different, too. That had been incredible.

Tommy moans and squirms and pushes back against Buck’s fingers, writhes against Buck’s body, and Buck has never, never seen him this openly desperate before. He’s always enthusiastic, but there’s usually a bit of snark still clinging to the edges of his self control. All of that is gone now. This is pure need. 

Buck pulls away from Tommy’s neck to kiss his lips again, to sip these beautiful and unprecedented sounds right from the source, but he stops short when he sees the tears in Tommy’s eyes. 

“Hey,” Buck says softly, stopping the movement of his fingers. “Hey, what’s going on?” 

Tommy shakes his head and lets out a string of jumbled words. “Just need you. Need you like this. You’re- Evan, it’s you, please. Please fuck me like this.” 

Buck doesn’t understand. He hesitates, unsure if he should take Tommy at his word or stop altogether until Tommy can really tell him what’s going on. Then Tommy squeezes his legs around Buck’s hips again and whispers please more breathy than Buck has ever heard from him before, and understanding washes over Buck like a hot shower. 

“We’ve never fucked like this before,” he says, incredulous. “You’ve fucked me like this, but you’ve never- you always keep your distance when you bottom. I never realized…” Buck trails off, just looking at Tommy until he nods. “But it- it’s different now?” 

Tommy strokes up and down Buck’s back. “It’s different now. I wanted it before, but it was too… too real. Too vulnerable.” He blinks away tears. “You would’ve kissed me while you fucked me, all- all big on top of me like this, all around me, and I… god, Evan, it just would’ve been everything. I would have lost myself in you, no coming back. And it felt like if I let myself have that, it would’ve hurt too much when you left.” 

“I’m not leaving,” Buck reminds him. “I wasn’t going to then, either.” 

“I know. I know that now. I trust that. That’s why I want you to fuck me like this. I want to kiss you while you’re inside me, I want…” One tear tracks down the crinkles around Tommy’s eyes as he smiles up at Buck, lips quivering. “I want to let you in.” 

Now Buck could cry too. He leans down and kisses Tommy, cradling his precious face in one hand. He tries to kiss every bit of emotion that he’s feeling into Tommy’s mouth: the wonder, the honor of being trusted like this, the joyful hope. Tommy kisses back and holds onto the back of Buck’s head like he can’t get enough. 

Buck starts moving his fingers again and Tommy moans between their mouths. Buck swallows it down greedily. He’s aching with love, with pride, with protectiveness. He always wants to be good for Tommy, but this feels different: he wants to be good to Tommy. He wants Tommy to feel as loved as Tommy makes Buck feel—as loved as Tommy is. Buck presses and stretches his fingers inside of Tommy, and Tommy writhes with it. 

“I’m good, I’m good, I’m ready,” Tommy breathes into Buck’s mouth. “Need you.” 

Tommy chases Buck’s lips as he pulls away. Tommy’s cheeks are flushed, his pupils are blown wide, and naked desire is written clear across his face. He’s gorgeous—even more than he usually is. Buck has never been tempted to use the word wanton to describe Tommy before, but the needy limbs wrapped around him and the whiny little breaths that hit Buck’s face every time he presses his fingers in make the word stick in his mind. 

“I like you like this,” Buck says. “I like you so open.” 

Tommy whines again and tosses his head back against the pillow. “Evan, please.” 

Buck doesn’t make Tommy wait any longer. He pulls his fingers out gently, gets lube onto his already leaking dick, and presses inside. 

Sinking into Tommy feels like a dream. Warm, wet, tight; arms and legs clinging to Buck’s body like they never have before. Buck shivers and moans and hides his face in Tommy’s neck for a moment while they both adjust. He kisses the skin, licks the sweat, bites the muscle. Tommy rumbles a deep, content noise in his chest, and starts to rock his hips against Buck. 

Buck thrusts shallow and gentle at first, testing how Tommy wants it. They’re in unprecedented waters: Buck doesn’t know if Tommy wants to be fucked hard and fast to match his earlier desperation or if this new position—this new deepening of Tommy’s trust in him—calls for something softer and more intimate. 

Buck untucks his face to check on Tommy. The sight nearly takes his breath away. Tommy is looking up at Buck with such pure adoration that Buck stutters in his rhythm. He smiles his beautiful smile up at Buck and he looks more content than Buck has ever seen him. No one has ever looked at Buck the way that Tommy does, and Tommy has never let Buck see this depth before. The lines on Tommy’s face are smooth and relaxed, and the tension he usually holds in his shoulders has melted away. Buck can hardly believe that this is for him, because of him. 

His face heats up and his heart soars. He leans down to kiss Tommy, letting Tommy set the pace and tone. Tommy’s lips press back sweetly, languidly, unhurriedly, so Buck matches his thrusts to that same tempo. Tommy sighs into his mouth; a deep, rich, contented thing. Being able to give Tommy what he wants—being trusted to give Tommy exactly what he has truly wanted for a while; what he has needed and denied himself—sends a shiver of pleasure down Buck’s spine. 

Buck hadn’t realized how much he had been craving this particular form of intimacy. The way they press into one—the way Tommy is wrapped around him in a full-body hug, squeezing him, keeping him together; the way Buck is covering Tommy, warm and protective, thrusting into him slow and sweet—is richly, achingly, indescribably bone-deep satisfying. Buck kisses Tommy as he fucks into him and he can’t believe he didn’t notice that he had been missing this. 

This is what Tommy needs, and it’s what Buck needs, too. Buck is used to being the one who clings. It feels incredible to be clung to, and to know that Tommy not only welcomes but craves the heavy weight of Buck on top of him. Tommy said that it would be everything, and Buck thinks he’s exactly right. 

Buck’s knee slips on the sheet so he hitches his hips off-rhythm to fix his position. He hits a new angle and Tommy moans high and reedy, writhing under Buck to get him to hit that angle again. Buck does. Tommy shudders and kisses Buck faster, harder, licks his way into Buck’s mouth with more force. Buck fucks into Tommy at the same speed, responding to the quickening pace of Tommy’s need. Tommy moans and whines and Buck swallows the sounds down deep inside of himself. He earned those. 

His stomach rubs over Tommy’s cock with every thrust. Buck relishes the way that Tommy ruts up into the small wet patch he’s leaking between their bodies, ruts up against the hair on the soft give of Buck’s strong lower stomach in desperate little hitches. Tommy’s movements get faster, less coordinated, more slippery, and he digs his hands into Buck’s back hard enough to leave marks. 

“Evan,” Tommy pants, his body curling tighter and tighter into itself. “Evan, I’m-” 

“I know,” Buck says, and he does. Tommy is so open under him, not hiding a thing as he writhes and ruts and moans. Buck can feel every muscle of Tommy’s body moving so freely against his own. Even without the rich familiarity Buck has with Tommy’s body, he’d be able to tell how close Tommy is. “I know, I can feel you. I can feel all of you like this. Wanna feel you come for me. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” 

Tommy’s arms tighten, his legs tighten, and his moans pitch higher. It’s not long before he’s clamping down around Buck and spilling hot and wet between them, crying out loud and unabashed. Buck watches the pleasure wash over Tommy’s face and only manages three more thrusts before he’s following Tommy over the edge. He feels primal and possessive as he comes deep inside of Tommy. Tommy is his. Tommy wants to be his. Tommy is letting himself be Buck’s. 

Tommy had been worried about losing himself in Buck. Buck hadn’t been worried about that. Buck lost himself in Tommy the first moment he saw him. This—fucking Tommy so intimately, being pressed practically head-to-toe against Tommy’s sweaty body, coming inside of him, being fully enveloped by him—doesn’t feel like getting lost. It feels like coming home. 

They stay tangled up together as they come down. Tommy holds Buck tight to himself, and Buck has no desire to be anywhere else. He kisses Tommy, kisses over his jaw and his cheek and his throat; gentle, tender, lingering presses of his lips to Tommy’s skin. He wants Tommy to know how loved he is, how treasured, how safe his heart is in Buck’s hands. 

Tommy sighs, soft and warm and uncharacteristically earnest. He doesn’t pull away and he doesn’t push Buck away. He runs shaking fingers through Buck’s hair and presses Buck closer to him. With each kiss, he relaxes and sinks back heavier into the bed. With each kiss, he holds Buck closer. 

They don’t move for a long, long time.

[here-there-be-fics]

who said it's true that the growing only happens on your own?

Summary:

Evan Buckley gets a meeting request from Captain Deluca after he's already withdrawn his transfer request, and his curiosity gets the better of him. It seems Captain Deluca has a future opportunity for him if he wants it.

Buck can't turn the meeting down. He withdrew his transfer request weeks ago, and yet, Captain Deluca from Station 122 sent him a meeting request for that afternoon. He can't say no, his curiosity stronger than anything close to being shaped like self-preservation. So, he tells Chimney that he has a meeting with someone at HQ and ducks out before driving from the 118 to the 122.

He isn't sure what the expect, honestly, since he's never been called to another station for a meeting. He's covered before, sure, when flu or food poisoning wiped out a whole shift, but he's never done anything like this before. So he parks out of the way of the bay doors, and heads inside. There's a probie whistling a Chappell Roan song as he's wiping down the station's engine, and Buck approaches.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, I'm looking for Captain Deluca?"

"Evan Buckley," a voice says, and Buck turns towards it. The face he's greeted with startles him because he knows this man, but from photos, from framed moments frozen in time and set on side tables and lining entryways. He's never met Sal Deluca in person, and until this moment, he's never registered that "my buddy Sal" and Captain Deluca from the 122 could be the same person. "Glad to see you made it."

"Thank you for the invitation," Buck says, and Deluca gestures him from the open bay towards his office in the back. It's a small space, unimportant and cramped, but somehow it's comfortable at the same time as Buck takes a seat in the open chair across from Deluca. There's a photo frame tilted just enough that Buck can see Deluca and his wife with three beautiful daughters who all have Deluca's full grin, and Buck knows that all three of those girls call Tommy their uncle and their godfather. "It was a bit unexpected, if I'm honest. I already withdrew my transfer paperwork, I'm not looking to change stations anymore."

"I was curious about that change of heart myself, but that doesn't matter much to me right now. I'm here to offer you not a transfer into your same position, but a promotion of sorts."

"Okay," Buck says, and he understands the hierarchy of the stations. He could become a driver engineer or operator, and in fact he should before looking for the captain rank, but he isn't sure why Deluca would want to hand that to him. "And, uh, wh-what, what would that look like?"

"See, I'm a part of a program, it's a leadership training program, a mentorship between senior and probationary firefighters designed to help create camaraderie and help the probies be able to find a spot of their own in their houses."

Buck isn't sure what to say to that, and isn't sure how Deluca has landed on him to talk to about this. If you asked Ravi, he'd been a terrible mentor at the beginning.

"I think you'd be perfect for it, and I think we're wasting your potential keeping you stagnant in one place, in one role. You're meant for more, and I know a lot of Captains were vying for your transfer when you submitted the paperwork, myself included. Howie is really lucky to have you on his crew, but I think for you, as a firefighter, you need something more than just being on a crew."

[read the rest on ao3]

[here-there-be-fics]

From the prompt list: “Breathe. Hi, we found you, just breathe for me, okay?”, please? Thanks in advance!

👀 it's gotta be injured Tommy + worried Buck to the rescue.. send me a prompt or two..

Tommy's awoken by turbulance, jostled in his seat from external forces, except..

It can't be turbulance. He can't be in the air. He's a decent pilot but he can't sleep and fly at the same time. The last thing he remembers was flying over downtown L.A, Lucy saying something about windsurfing, before—

A metallic banging snags his attention, his head throbbing and neck protesting as he tries to turn towards the sound.

The whir and grind of tools, muffled voices yelling— and then a great groaning sound and— bright lights blind his already poor vision, the voices are louder. There's a flurry of activity around him, the hurried capability of professionals doing their job, cautious touches to his body, inspection of his seat. Someone moves behind him, probably to get to Lucy—

"—Tommy?"

"..'van?.." His eyes are screwed shut against the torchlight but he'd know that voice anywhere.

"Tommy!"

"..Y're here.."

"Yeah, yeah I-I'm here— we're here, we got you— we're gonna get you out, okay? Just— just stay with me."

The other voices filter in and out of his awareness. He zeroes in on Evan: he's close, right by Tommy's ear, voice strained but beautiful. He hasn't heard that voice since..

Since Bobby's funeral. Since that night everything went to hell. Since the morning after they..

It's been too long. There's been too much complication and hurt. He misses hearing Evan's voice happy and unburdened. He doesn't want to add to his worry or stress.

As he shifts to try to move— pain lances through his side.

"Woah, woah, easy Tommy," Howie says. He must be the one evaluating Tommy's condition. Which mustn't be great, considering the pain.

"Just hold still," Evan says in his ear, voice wobbly. His hands— they must be Evan's hands— are braced on his shoulders, holding him steady.

He's missed those hands, strong and capable and eager. He'd do a lot to hear that voice again, feel Evan's touch again. Like stealing another helicopter, or..

..crashing one?

"Try not to move, just breathe for me, o-okay?"

Nodding seems like a bad idea and requires too much energy anyway— and he's so very tired —so he settles for humming in the affirmative and focusing on the grounding, heavy warmth of Evan's hands on him.

Lucy groans off to his left, reminding Tommy he's not the only one who's fucked up right now. "..Luce?.."

"..Wha' h'appen'd?.."

Good question.

"Civilian drone," says Howie.

An attack? It's not unheard of, people tend to target police helicopters but from far away it's hard to tell what's LAFD unless you know.

"Dumbass was tryin' to get an aerial shot for his stupid ass zombie movie," says Hen, condescending as hell.

Tommy's missed her, too. And Howie. All of them. He misses Evan's people, his old friends, misses being in their orbit almost as much as he misses Evan.

"Oh m' god— w're gonn' be in a zombie movie, T'mmy!" Lucy snickers as Hen chides her to hold still.

A laugh bubbles out of him, ending on a groan as another flare of pain shoots through him like a lightning bolt. Evan's hands grip him tighter.

"Chim—"

"Buck, just keep him steady— Ravi, get in here with that saw—"

Through slitted eyes, Tommy glimpses a long, metallic shard protruding from his midsection. So that explains the pain. As Ravi takes the saw to the metal, Howie and Evan hold him down.

Just before he blacks out, Tommy could swear he feels lips press to his temple, firm and desperate.

+ + +

There's murmurs and hushed conversation, but it's Hen's voice saying, "He's stable," that are the first clear words Tommy hears as he gradually resurfaces from unconsciousness.

The pain has subsided to a dull ache. He's comfortable, horizontal, and there's the telltale sign of a heart monitor beeping quietly nearby.

He's in a hospital bed. His hand is clasped between two strong, warm hands. Familiar hands. Hands clutching at Tommy like his only tether to this world.

Hen's a great medic, Tommy trusts her assessment, so if Evan was worried about him slipping away it sounds like he doesn't need to anymore. Not that he deserves Evan's concern, but he could probably let go of Tommy's hand now.

Tommy doesn't want Evan to let go. He squeezes Evan's hand.

"'m not a fan of deathbed confessions, just for the record," he says, voice low and raw.

"You're not dying," three voices say at once. A smile tugs at the corner of Tommy's mouth. Howie and Hen sound a little exasperated, but fond. A hint of humour colors the latent urgency in Evan's voice.

Tommy blinks his eyes open to find Evan smiling, tentative and gorgeous, blue eyes big and red-rimmed, brow unfurrowing as tension sloughs from his shoulders on a sigh, his messy curls limned by the morning sun. Evan could put the brightness of the sun to shame even when he looks exhausted.

"m' sorry, 'bout us. I shouldn'.. shouldn'..ve.. left." His brain is still a little foggy, words coming a little slow, but he can't wait for it to catch up. He needs to say this now, needs Evan to know.

And he'd forgive Evan for asking: which time? because he'd deserve the jab for being a coward more than once, for not fighting for them.

"No— I'm sorry," Evan says instead. "I didn't mean to push you away, and I-I should've reached out sooner."

Why didn't you? Tommy doesn't say, because he's not sure he wants to know the answer. But he knows for certain that Evan has been grieving Bobby's death and so doesn't blame him for their lack of correspondance following the funeral. It's a two-way street, Tommy could have picked up the phone but he didn't. Maybe he was giving Evan space after everything or maybe he was using circumstance as a scapegoat so he could stay couched in his own fears.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Evan says, eyes shining, brow furrowed.

Tommy squeezes his hand again and manages a small, sad smile. "M' neither." He wants to pull Evan in, hold him close, beg for another chance, promise to never run away again. But he doesn't know if it's welcome, and he doesn't know if he can trust himself anyway. He'd want to, for Evan. He'd do his damndest to not screw this up a third time, to stay despite his fears.

Evan adjusts his grip, strokes a thumb reverently over the back of Tommy's hand. "I've missed you."

Tommy's heart flutters. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You were open and honest with me that night, and I-I should've said this then— I wanted to tell you, but I-I needed— and then I—" Evan shakes his head, clearing it to refocus. "In the helicopter, I decided. Afterwards, I was gonna ask if we could talk, but.."

Tommy squeezes his hand.

"Everything's been so messed up, Tommy," he starts again, "for so long—" He pauses to take a steadying breath, "I don't wanna lose you. I wanna fix this— us— because I miss you, and.. I love you." His hands cradle Tommy's. "I love you."

The second I love you — and Tommy's head spins at the words — seems to settle something in Evan. Tommy's heart is soaring. His eyes are welling up, voice cracking as he says, "Yeah?" lips twitching up.

Evan nods. "Yeah."

"Well, then.. y'should know I love you, too."

Evan breaks into a watery grin. "Yeah?"

Tommy blinks, a tear tracking down to his hairline as his own smile breaks free. "Yeah."

It's just the two of them, hand in hand and laying their hearts out on Tommy's hospital bed.

"Thought you weren't one for deathbed confessions," Howie chimes in.

Tommy totally forgot he was there. Hen tsks and half-heartedly whacks his shoulder as she and Evan both say, Evan chuckling now, "He's not dying."

Hen's eyes are glistening and she's trying to hold back a smile. Howie looks touched, too.

"Hey," Tommy tugs on Evan's hand. "What're y'doing Saturday?"

Evan laughs and ducks his head. "Uh. Today is Saturday."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. And I, uh." Evan threads their fingers together. "I was hoping to spend the day with my boyfriend."

Tommy beams. "Lucky guy."

"Yeah, I am." Evan's smile turns soft and intimate.

Tommy adores him.

Buck blinks in surprise.

"Did I just say that out loud?"

"Uh-huh," Hen and Chim pipe up in unison, but Tommy only has eyes for Evan.

"S'true," he says, knowing he'll say the words again with intention and feel just as content in having them known.

"I'm kinda crazy about you. Hope that's okay?"

Tommy was lucky enough to glimpse a bit of Evan's crazy during their first try at this. The thought of being the focus of that intense emotional spectrum makes him giddy. "I like y'r crazy."

"You two are sickeningly adorable," says Howie.

Tommy lowers his voice to a stage whisper. "Wan' make out in front of th' peanut gall'ry?"

Evan laughs, the sun flaring above the city skyline behind him nothing compared to his light. "Yes, yes I do."

"So this is the thanks I get for saving your life, huh?" Howie balks.

"Ravi handled the saw with expert precision, I gotta say," Evan tells him.

"R'mind me t'.. send him.. muff'n bask't.." The exhaustion is creeping back in, trying to pull him under.

"Buck's got you covered on the baked goods front," Hen adds.

"..Hmh?" His eyelids are heavy as he blinks in slow motion, trying to focus as his brain slows down again, urging him to rest.

"Just, uh. Some of my crazy," Evan admits, a shy note in his voice.

"Hm.. g'd.." Tommy hums happily as his eyes lose the battle to stay open.

There's whispered voices around him as his breathing deepens and evens out.

"Call us if either of you need anything, Buck."

"I will. Thanks, guys."

There's footsteps and rustling. A dip in the bed and a warm solid presence at his hip. Evan takes the hand covering Tommy's to brush back some wayward curls from his forehead.

Evan likes his curls. He said it more than once, but it was his hands and even his eyes more than his words that clued Tommy in.

Plush, bitten lips press a lingering kiss to his brow, Evan's hand cradling Tommy's skull, thumb scritching against his scalp.

"Get some rest," Evan murmurs between them, the gentle pressure and comforting warmth of his forehead pressed to Tommy's.

I love you, Tommy thinks, and a warm puff of air ghosts over his lips.

There's a smile in Evan's voice when he says, "Love you, too."

Tommy surrenders to sleep, his last nebulous thought being that he can't wait to wake up to this.

[here-there-be-fics]

bucktommy hiatus event week two: quote(s) [insp]

[here-there-be-fics]

@bucktommysource hiatus event week 2: quote(s)

[here-there-be-fics]

Just thinking about Buck and Tommy slow dancing in their new home.

[here-there-be-fics]

if there's solid ground below

It's been five years, but I wrote a whole fic this week thanks in no small part to the singular @iphyslitterator!

[Cross-posted to AO3]

“H—hey, Tommy?”

Tommy startles and bangs his head on the hood of his truck, recovering fast enough that none of the oil he was nearly done changing spilled but not so fast that it would have escaped Evan’s notice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just surprised,” he says, grabbing for a spare rag to wipe his hands on. “Hi.”

“Got a sec?” Evan rocks onto the balls of his feet and back again, hands shoved deep in the pockets of a hoodie that, in southern California in May, it should really be too warm for. But he runs cold, and the layers always have the added bonus of making Tommy want to rip them off in some kind of Pavlovian response.

Had. Last summer, they’d had that effect. This summer was shaping up differently.

Evan tilts his head, a little quizzical, and Tommy realizes he’s been frozen in place for a few beats too long, dazedly dragging the rag between his fingers.

“Sorry, yeah, go ahead.” He glances down at the car, which hasn’t moved, then back at Evan, who’s still rocking but who looks, Tommy’s now realizing, noticeably lighter than he has in a while—certainly since the funeral, but maybe even more so than that night in the bar all those weeks ago. His smile is far too small, but it’s there. “Although if you need another helicopter, I’m gonna have to start charging you at some point.”

“That’s okay, I heard your fees are competitive,” he chirps, and if his grin isn’t yet lethal, it’s shifted to shit-eating. Which, for Tommy, is lethal anyway, and Evan knows it. “But no, I just…just wanted to talk this time. For real, for once.”

Oh. “Okay…?”

“You can keep doing whatever you were doing; I know you like to have something to do with your hands.”

“Uh, thanks.” He stuffs the rag in the back pocket of his jeans and fishes the oil canister out of his car’s innards. This might be easier without eye contact. “What’s up?”

“I’m taking a sabbatical from the LAFD,” Evan says. Tommy freezes again, more of a twitch than a full stop, and makes himself continue the actual task at hand. “Three months. Mostly thanks to an insane amount of unused PTO, because I realized I kinda haven’t taken a vacation that wasn’t just medical leave in like…ever. And I need a break, you know, after everything? Like, I spent a bunch of my twenties driving around, odd jobs and stuff, and the world is—is so much bigger than the firehouse, or this city, and…yeah.  I think I need that space for a bit. Just got it approved today. And then I came here.”

He pauses for breath, and Tommy stares unseeing at some perfectly intact wiring he could reconnect by touch alone if asked. “That’s great they’re letting you do that, Evan. I’m sure it’ll be good for you. How’d the others take it?”

There’s a little sigh. “I haven’t told them yet. Battalion chief said I’d always have a job to come back to, but they couldn’t hold my spot indefinitely. Depends on the new captain and how they want to staff up. Makes sense, obviously, so.” His sniffle is nearly inaudible, but Tommy’s never been able to tune out Evan’s frequency.

He gives up on the car, closing the hood with a quiet click and resuming with the rag, even though his hands aren’t especially dirty. “Never thought you’d voluntarily leave the 118.”

“I know, right?” Evan’s mouth twitches, and it’s not quite a smile now, but there’s something genuine growing back. “I mean, I guess I might not be, but. Things change, and it’s…time, maybe. I’m doing this, in any case. I—I—I just need to clear my head for a while. Go visit Minnesota, never been there, but then…I don’t know, maybe touch the Atlantic Ocean again. Camp out in some national parks. Go see the sky in Montana—it’s so big, Tommy, I’ve never seen anything like it, not since those years, and the last couple of months…it’s like the smog is just in everything right now, you know?”

Tommy nods. He can relate, despite how often he gets to soar above the chokehold of Los Angeles; smoke is smoke, and heat still rises. “I get it. So…this is goodbye, then?” He swallows, bites his lip, stares down at his fingers and the rag still entwined in them.

“No!” Evan leans forward for a breath, arm lifting, but he seems to stop himself, like he’s remembering they don’t know where they stand with each other, if he’s allowed to grab Tommy’s shoulder. “No, no, I’m coming back. LA is still home, my—my stuff’s going into a storage unit next week, my sister and my niece are here, and the new baby—the job—no, yeah, I’m coming back.”

“That’s good,” Tommy muses. “So…”

“So, I wanted to ask—I—I—I’m asking if you’d maybe be up for thinking about coming with me.”

Tommy freezes so suddenly, and so thoroughly, that the rag drops to the ground. “You—you’re going on a three-month road trip to get away from it all, and you want me to come with you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Evan says softly, surely, ducking his head in that bashful way he pretends not to know is so damn effective. “I need a break from everything, and everyone—but you, you’re not everyone. I meant what I said about being together, before. I still mean it.” Tommy feels both arms drop to his sides, heavy and limp like emptied hoses, and the air jerks out of his lungs as his throat closes tight.

Evan plows ahead. “I—if—if you don’t want to, or you can’t swing it with work, or whatever—I get it, that’s why I’m asking and not—not telling you what to do. I don’t—even if you don’t come, I’d wait. And, and text or call, maybe? If you wanted to? Even if it’s just as friends, my life is always better when you’re in it. Kinda hoping that goes both ways here.”

Tommy croaks, “And when you get tired of me before we hit Reno?”

“I won’t,” he says, no hesitation. Tommy’s slack face must do something, because he repeats, “Tommy, I won’t. I won’t. I just want time with you, more time, all the time. I want to try again, so, so bad. And if we fight, we can talk, and not just think the worst, and keep going, be—because I want to eat crappy gas station food with you and not think about the inside of a gym for weeks. I want to drive out somewhere where it feels like we’re the only people on the planet, and fuck in the back of your truck, and then figure out a map that’s older than either of us because there’s no cell service. Maybe rent a chopper in Montana so we can see that sky up close—there’s, there’s so many stars, and you’re the only person I’d want to see them with like that. I want to be locked in a moving vehicle with you all day, except for bathroom stops, and see your face when you realize it’s been 16 hours and we still have more to talk about, and we’ll just keep going, because I’m never gonna get tired of you.”

He pauses and swallows thickly, and Tommy can’t look away. For all that Evan Buckley wears his heart on his sleeve so easily for anyone to see, actually opening it up and offering to hand it over to someone else—that’s still work. “So—that’s what I came to say. That’s what I want. J—just think about it. No rush, I’m not—I’ll wait. If it’s what you want. You…you get to want things, too. So. Yeah.”

Evan nods to himself, rubs the back of his neck, and turns to walk back to his car, parked on the street. Tommy has to move, has to say something, but the soles of his boots are melting, fused to the cement of the driveway, his throat is still closed, and Evan—Evan is walking away.

Tommy wants things, too.

He forces a breath, in and out, on a four-count, licks his lips, and asks, “When do we leave?”

Evan radiates a warmth that scatters out, tangible and visible like a sunrise before he even turns around, beaming. “I was thinking a few weeks after the baby comes, but—but—yeah?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I could chase some stars over the Rockies. With you.” Tommy’s insides unknot, and the life rushes back into his limbs. “And the rest, too. I noticed it’s my truck in this scenario?”

Suddenly Evan is in front of him, closer than they’d managed even that morning after, pressed gently against him from chest to knees, arms winding around his waist. “Much more cargo space. Very practical. And I kinda thought you might be in the same boat, you know, with the unused vacation. Maybe enough seniority to hang onto your spot.”

“Probably, yeah, they generally…” He doesn’t even know how that sentence might have ended, has rarely thought about anything more than a long weekend away, but then Evan’s kissing him, deep and slow and sweet like they might already be the only people on the planet. His warmth flashes over through Tommy, nerve by nerve, until he’s lit up and burning, flammable in places he’d spent months trying to forget this man could expose.

When Evan pulls back, it’s with Tommy’s face between his hands, his relief and hope palpable. Like life might go on, like the world might really be bigger, could even be better, sometimes, than it had been.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, so close and so quiet that Tommy can feel each syllable rumble against his skin, tires steady on a gravel road away from this scene and toward the next.

[here-there-be-fics]

Happy Bucktommy Positivity Bingo Week! For my "Buck Leaves the 118" Bingo Square

"Uh, h-hi I'm your new transfer. I'm looking for Captain De-"

"Buckley! My office!"

Buck gulps in a way he hopes wasn't completely audible and sends a tight smile in thanks to the firefighter he didn't quite get to talk to before making his way down the hallway of the 122 station toward Captain DeLuca's office. He steels himself with a deep breath before hitching his duffle higher on his shoulder and walking in.

"Captin DeLuca, it's good to be here. And, and good to meet you." Buck stutters out, feeling his face grow red.

DeLuca is stocky and serious where he sits behind his desk--its at odds with the explosion of hand drawn crayon pictures pinned to the cork board behind him.

"Buckley, Evan. Thirty-four, been at the 118 since finishing the academy, a bit of a hot head, danger magnet..." Captain DeLuca trails off then, observing Buck. Buck tries not to let the dread in his stomach physically pull him down in his seat. So much for making a good impression--"and coming to the 122 with glowing reviews from three of the best damn firefighters I know."

That gets Buck to look up from where his gaze was slowly dropping to the desk, meeting DeLuca's eyes in surprise.

"I-what?" Buck says intelligently, cringing in his mind at his own inability to come across even a bit confident.

"Anyone ever tell you that I started at the 118? Chim says you've got the most heart he's ever seen, and that the only reason he's letting you go is because he can't stand to see it keep bleeding everywhere. Hen tells me that you're gonna be a hell of a Captain someday--leaving us all in the dust."

Buck feels his eyes stinging, not quite knowing what to do with all of this, feeling just as overwhelmed as he did when he walked out of the 118 five days ago with a voice horse from arguing with the very people who seemed to have talked so positively about him to his new captain.

"A-and the third?" Buck asks, not sure who else would have known both Captain DeLuca and Buck well enough to supply another glowing reccomendation. Lucy, maybe?

Captian DeLuca smirks and looks up at the wall to the left of his desk. Buck follows his line of sight and feels a throb of complicated emotion pulse through him. There's a picture there, of Captain DeLuca--much younger but still clearly him, with an arm around a hauntingly familiar man.

"The third is, in my personal opinion, an idiot on many fronts. But I believe him when he says you're all courage, integrity, and helping people through and through."

"I don't--"

"Yeah, he didn't actually want me to tell you that he gushed about how 'amazingly competent' you are for seventeen minutes straight. And you know, how could I break my best friend's trust like that? Even when I think he made a hell of a mistake and just needs to stop being a damn chicken and talk to this supposedly fantastic firefighter who had put in for a transfer and that I needed to fist fight Mehta for?"

Buck is stunned, eyes still catching on Tommy's younger face in the picture, they way his smile looks genuine under his gelled down curls.

"You didn't actually fist fight Captain Mehta did you?" Is all Buck can say, stupidly, "I mean--no I didn't mean that. Um. I mean, thank you. For this opportunity, Captain DeLuca."

"I metaphorically fought Mehta, but don't you worry about that. Let's get you introduced to the crew first, and after shift's over we can hit the sandwhich shop across the street and plan out how we'll corner Tommy."

Captain DeLuca gets up then, a whirlwind of words and motion that Buck is hopelessly trying to comprehend. He walks out the door at a brisk pace and Buck's eyes travel back to that picture.

"Buckley! Let's go!"

Buck scrambles to follow, heart beating fast and grin cracking across his lips.

Fic tag list (reply to this post or DM to be added!)

@bucksaiga

@loulou-land

@lbltpsmspenguin

@connected-dots

[here-there-be-fics]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Tommy Kinard Characters: Tommy Kinard, Evan “Buck” Buckley Additional Tags: Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Post episode 8x11, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, the house is a metaphor, the baking is a metaphor, Self-Esteem Issues Series: Part 13 of Codas Summary:

Tommy’s tired.

Bone tired. Marrow tired. Cell tired.

Fuck, even his mitochondria have given up. Powerhouses of the cell his ass. They’re all on strike now.

[here-there-be-fics]

I wrote a silly little thing about Tommy hiding the fact he wears glasses from Buck. Unfortunately, since i'm incapable of writing sexy times this is gonna have to stay g :(

Here's a small snippet:

“Be honest with me,” Buck said, arms crossed, “do you think Tommy is seeing someone else?”

Ravi choked. “What?”

“I’m serious. He keeps sneaking off with his phone.”

Ravi wiped his mouth and gave Buck a look. “Buck. Buddy. That man has stolen two helicopters for you.”

Buck waved it off. “Light domestic terrorism aside, I’m just saying something’s up. You think maybe he’s bored? I’ve been working tons of doubles lately so I haven’t had time for my normal gym routine. I think my butt’s gotten flat.”

“Tommy talks about your butt like it’s a religious experience.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know.

You can read the whole things below or on A03 -> Clearly Into You

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Buck wasn't usually a jealous guy. Okay. That was a lie. It had all started early one morning, Buck was balancing a banana nut muffin in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other when he noticed Tommy ducking back into the bedroom with his phone. Again. It was the third time that morning. This was after the incident yesterday—Tommy had disappeared into the garage just to “check a message,” and when Buck rounded the corner with a fresh cup of coffee to surprise him, Tommy had nearly jumped out of his skin. Buck's gut had churned then. Now it was practically staging a rebellion. He didn’t want to be that guy, the paranoid boyfriend, the clingy one, but when your long-term, ruggedly hot firefighter boyfriend starts acting like he's guarding the Missing Link every time his phone buzzes, you begin to worry. And Tommy? Tommy was the definition of sketchy lately. Buck had mentioned it casually to Tommy that night in bed. “You’ve been kind of... phone-private lately, huh?” Tommy had just snorted and rolled over, kissing Buck’s shoulder like that was an answer.

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The next day, Buck strolled into the living room with a dish towel slung over his shoulder and a faint whistle on his lips, just in time to catch Tommy snapping his phone screen off like he’d been caught looking up something deeply illicit. The speed of it was unnatural. Almost Olympic-level. Buck stopped mid-step, eyebrow lifting. “...Was that the nuclear launch codes, or…?” Tommy, sprawled on the couch with an exaggerated air of innocence, blinked up at him. “What?” “You just closed your phone like I walked in on you sexting a senator.” Tommy made a face, scoffing. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was—watching a video.” “Uh-huh,” Buck said, folding his arms. “Why’d you practically throw it across the room like it bit you?” Tommy shifted, “Reflexes. I’ve got cat-like reflexes.” “Oh, is that what we’re calling ‘panic’ now?” Tommy sniffed, nose tilted. “You startled me.” Buck peered at Tommy suspiciously. “What are you hiding?” “Nothing.” “Is it porn? “What? No!” Tommy didn’t even look up. “It was an educational video on new fire safety procedures.” Buck snorted. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” Tommy grinned. “Hey, I know “movie night” is a shared activity and I take our joint research sessions very seriously.” “Oh, joint research, huh?” Buck said, crossing his arms. “Because I distinctly remember you fast-forwarding through the plot last night.” “There was a plot?” Buck rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “You know for a guy who claims he likes character development, you sure skipped a lot of dialogue.” “I’m just efficient,” Tommy said, smug. “Besides, I already know how it ends.” “Oh yeah?” Buck asked, stepping closer with a teasing smirk. “And how’s that?” “With both of us hitting pause because it got us a little too inspired.” “You know,” Buck murmured, eyes soft but sharp, “you’re very good at distracting me.” Tommy blinked, doing his best innocent face. “Am I?” “Mhm. Suspiciously good.” Buck kissed the corner of Tommy’s mouth, then pulled back just enough to look at him. “Almost like you’re trying to steer me away from asking what was going on with your phone earlier.” Tommy froze—just a flicker, just for a second—but Buck caught it. “It’s nothing, Evan. I promise.” And with that Tommy got up and walked into the kitchen.

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A few days later, another incident occurred when Buck showed up unannounced to Harbour Station to surprise Tommy with a sandwich from their favourite deli shop, which was the romantic equivalent of a bouquet of roses in firefighter terms. He spotted Tommy sitting alone in his truck in the back lot, hunched over his phone like it owed him money. Buck tapped on the window. Tommy jumped so hard he dropped the phone into the footwell. “Hey,” Buck said, peeking in. “What’re you doing out here?” Tommy looked mildly panicked. “Nothing! Just... decompressing.” Buck leaned into the window. “You know, when most people decompress, they don’t clutch their phone like it’s a cursed artifact.” Tommy fake-laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. “You're cute when you're nosy,” while casually sliding his phone back into his pocket. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

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After another non-answer from Tommy regarding his secretive phone use, Buck finally cornered Ravi in the kitchen of the 118, where Ravi was busy shoveling pasta into his mouth between calls. “Be honest with me,” Buck said, arms crossed, “do you think Tommy is seeing someone else?” Ravi choked. “What?” “I’m serious. He keeps sneaking off with his phone.” Ravi wiped his mouth and gave Buck a look. “Buck. Buddy. That man has stolen two helicopters for you.” Buck waved it off. “Light domestic terrorism aside, I’m just saying something’s up. You think maybe he’s bored? I’ve been working tons of doubles lately so I haven’t had time for my normal gym routine. I think my butt’s gotten flat.” “Tommy talks about your butt like it’s a religious experience.” Buck blushed. “Well. Still.” Since Buck’s falling out with Eddie—that argument in the kitchen that had left more than just words simmering—his friendship with Ravi had unexpectedly deepened. What started as casual conversation and shared beers had turned into real camaraderie, with Ravi naturally folding into Buck’s life outside the station. That meant spending time with Tommy too, and to Buck’s quiet delight, Ravi and Tommy hit it off effortlessly. The two shared an easy banter, trading dry humour and obscure movie references like they'd been friends for years. Ravi rolled his eyes. “Tommy’s not cheating. He’s obsessed with you. He just—sometimes he gets weird when something’s wrong with him. He doesn’t like looking vulnerable.” Buck narrowed his eyes. “So you do think something’s wrong.” Ravi shrugged. “Probably, but not something scandalous. He’s just not good at asking for help, you know that. Remember he tried to splint his own ankle last month with a clipboard and duct tape.” “…Yeah, okay. That tracks.” Ravi pointed a tomato sauce covered spoon at Buck’s chest. “If Tommy is hiding something, it’s probably because he’s the one embarrassed. You ever think of that?” Buck frowned. “I don’t like it when you’re right. It’s bad for our power dynamic.”

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The truth broke open like a scene from a soap opera. Buck walked into the kitchen one evening after a shortened shift to find Tommy squinting at his phone, held at arm’s length. Then—he reached into the drawer. Pulled out a sleek pair of reading glasses: Slim, black-rimmed, very distinguished. And slipped them on. Buck gasped like a Victorian man seeing a naked ankle. Tommy spun around, glasses in hand, caught red-handed. “Don’t say anything,” he muttered. “Please. I know. It’s awful.” Buck stared. “That’s what all this has been? The secret phone stuff? The whispering? The disappearing acts?” Tommy looked sheepish. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” “Like what? Sexy librarian-core? Because it’s working.” Tommy groaned and sank into a chair. “No, I didn’t want you to see this version of me. I’m officially ancient. Glasses for the phone. Next it’ll be pill organizers and orthopedic sandals. You’re going to realize I’m some tragic, washed-up old man and run off with someone who can read a menu without squinting.” Buck blinked. “…You think I’m going to stop loving you because you need reading glasses?” Tommy looked truly miserable. “You’re still in your thirties. I’m—well, not. And look at me. The greys, a back that makes that clicking noise when I get out of bed. And I didn’t want you to—” Buck took a step forward. “Didn’t want me to what?” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “Realize how much older I am than you.” Buck stared at him, heart lurching. Then he stepped in, gently took the glasses, and placed them back on Tommy’s face. “You look like a sexy professor who teaches Advanced Fire Tactics at the Academy. Honestly, I’d enroll twice.” Tommy snorted. “And for the record?” Buck continued. “Yeah, your body’s incredible. You’re all tall and muscly, with those ridiculous forearms and muscles on top of muscles in your biceps that’s not even fair. And the flecks of grey in your hair? I’ve been trying to act normal about it, but it makes me want to climb you like a rope ladder.” Tommy laughed, the tension cracking at last. “But even if you didn’t look like that,” Buck added, quieter now, “I’d still love you. Because of how you show up. Because of how you make me feel like I matter, even when I’m being annoying or insecure or irrational.” He cupped Tommy’s face. “You’re smart. Snarky. Kind. You give a crap about people, even when it costs you something. That’s what I fell for. And that’s not going away.” Tommy looked at him for a beat, the barest shine in his eyes. “So... you’re okay with the glasses?” “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Buck whispered. “Want me to keep wearing them?” Buck said, grinning. “You might wanna bring them to bed. Just saying.” Tommy kissed him — slow, smiling against his lips. “You’re a menace.” “But I’m your menace,” Buck said.

---------------------------------------------------------

Tommy had been hesitant at first—wearing the glasses only when he was home alone, taking them off the second someone knocked at the door, and absolutely refusing to wear them during social gatherings. But Buck noticed. Of course he did. And over time, with quiet compliments and casual sincere praise, Buck chipped away at whatever insecurity was holding Tommy back. Now, Tommy wore them without flinching. Still a little self-conscious, maybe, still adjusting to the feel of them on his face—but the difference was noticeable. He didn’t hide anymore. Buck noticed that, too. Tommy adjusted his new glasses on the bridge of his nose, squinting at the mirror like the frames might suddenly shapeshift into something more flattering. “You keep looking at yourself like you’re trying to figure out who you are,” Buck said from the doorway, arms crossed, leaning just enough to make it obvious he’d been watching for a while. “I look like a dad trying to figure out how to work his own thermostat,” Tommy muttered. “You look like a sexy professor who could ruin my life in under ten seconds,” Buck said, dead serious. Tommy turned, raising an eyebrow over the rim of the glasses. “Ruin your life, huh?” “Oh yeah,” Buck said, pushing off the doorway and walking closer. “Like, ‘talk sternly to me in a quiet voice while handing me back my overdue essay face down’ kind of ruin.” Tommy smirked. “You have a whole fantasy worked out already?” Buck shrugged. “Not my fault you put those on and suddenly I want to sin in a public classroom.” Tommy laughed, cheeks a little pink. “You’re ridiculous.” “You’re hot,” Buck shot back, stopping just in front of him. “I mean—you were already hot. But now? Now I want to make bad choices with you in a very well-lit, academic environment.” Tommy leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. “So what you’re saying is… I should wear these more often.” Buck grinned, voice low and warm. “I’m saying if you don’t, I might start leaving textbooks around the house just to tempt you.” Tommy reached up, slowly removing the glasses and setting them aside. “Well. That sounds like dangerous encouragement.” Buck stepped closer, practically nose to nose now. “Good. I like a little danger.”

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[here-there-be-fics]

Shut Out

Summary:

While visiting his nephew at the hospital, a still-grieving Buck discovers just how much Tommy means to him.

Relationship:

Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard

Tags:

Hospitals, Hurt Tommy Kinard, Worried Evan "Buck" Buckley, Post-Episode: s08e15 Lab Rats (9-1-1 TV), Serious Injuries, Helicopter Crash

Read on Ao3

[here-there-be-fics]

one tommy kinard in a limited color palette

[here-there-be-fics]

For your prompts post: 1, bucktommy, injured on a call

hi hello! since the prompt list is for chronic pain i decided to throw in some migraine tommy, i hope that's alright with you :> 1. "Alright, I will be your nurse today, if you like it or not."

The injury is, Tommy swears, not as bad as it looks; and yet Buck can see him grimacing in pain as he tries to listen to the doctor talk about what kind of painkillers he's supposed to take and when.

Buck makes sure to note everything down regardless, because he's seen this expression on Tommy before.

When he'd gotten the call, his heart had dropped to his knees for a solid minute, ears ringing with the knowledge that Tommy was hurt too much to actually understand what was being said to him—staircase giving out, a broken ankle, some cuts and bruises. Not the end of the world as much as simply an incredibly annoying thing to happen.

Now, as he sits next to Tommy on the bed he'd been lying in for the last couple of hours, he can't help but think that there's something else going on that Tommy isn't saying.

When the doctor asks them if they have any questions, Tommy shakes his head, but Buck opens his moouth before Tommy has the opportunity to stop him. "Would he be able to take triptanes? Hypothetically."

The doctor raises an eyebrow at him but nods her head. "Hypothetically there would be no problem with that," she says, and then doesn't ask any more questions, which Buck is extremely grateful for.

Tommy shoots him a look somewhere between grateful and annoyed, and that's when Buck knows he's right on the money. The doctor says her goodbyes, and after a few more rounds of signing paperwork they're out of the hospital and in Buck's jeep.

Buck helps Tommy into the passenger's seat even though Tommy swears he can do it by himself, and then he turns off the radio when it springs to life withthe ignition. Tommy rests his head against the headrest and mumbles a quite "thank you" before he closes his eyes, and Buck takes his hand and kisses it in answer.

The drive home is quiet and longer than it has to be because of course there's traffic, and Buck winces in sympathy every times someone honks in their vicinity.

"They're not gonna go any faster because you're honking your horn, fuckin' idiot," Tommy murmurs, slightly slurring his voice. It's adorable. Tommy loses all filter when he gets like this, and as much as it sucks for him, Buck loves this version of him just as much as all of the others.

When they're finally home, the sun is setting. Buck wraps an arm around Tommy's waist as they make their way to their front door; and after he unlocks it, he leads his boyfriend straight to their bed, props up the pillows for him, and draws the blinds closed.

Tommy makes a weak sound of protest, saying, "You don't have to do all of that, 's fine." Buck kisses him on the forehead.

"No, no, I'm going to be your nurse today. Whether you like it or not. Try to relax for me, babe, I'll be right back with your meds." He kisses him on the top of his head too, for good measure, before he sets out to get Tommy a big glass of water as well as his meds. When he's back, Tommy is already half dozing.

"Okay'," he says, careful to keep his voice low, "Take these. I'll get you out of your clothes so you can settle, okay?" Tommy grumbles, but he nods and takes the water and meds from him.

He kneels down to where Tommy's good foot rests against the floor and carefully rids him of his remaining shoe and sock, before maneuvering this leg to join the other one on the bed. Then, he takes off the loose pair of sweatpants he'd brought to the hospital, careful not to jostle the ankle too much. When he's done, he kisses the knee with the bad ankle, and looks up to see Tommy smiling at him, which makes it all worth it.

"What do you think about soup?" Buck asks, still kneeling next to the bed.

"Later, nurse Buckley," Tommy jokes, which is a good sign, "Come hold me for a bit?"

And, well, who is Buck to refuse that?

[pain prompts]

[here-there-be-fics]

hii <3 for the smut prompts: 72 and bucktommy. I was thinking it could be dom bottom tommy? you can choose if you want to go with sub or brat top buck, whichever speaks to you 🫶

"Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. thats cute."

(Bottom soft dommy Tommy mmm 😌 and bratty sub top Buck)

Tommy is well aware of the fact that he's enabled, encouraged, and rewarded Evan's bratty behavior. He loves that Evan trusts him enough to push boundaries, that he knows Tommy would never get mad at him or upset.

It's also incredibly hot, for reasons Tommy doesn't even know how to begin to explain. But when Evan walks into the garage for the nth time to ask another question or tell him something, Tommy wipes his hands on the rag over the radiator and turns to indulge him again, he stops when he sees that Evan is dressed in a jock and a pair of socks and nothing else.

"Do you know where my shorts went?" Evan asks, and Tommy's gaze snaps from Evan's thighs to his face, which looks too innocent. He's tilting his chin down just the slightest bit, his lips held in a subtle little pout, and he's looking through his eyelashes.

It takes a moment for Tommy's brain to move past bone-melting arousal to set off the flashing warning sign in his head that this is a trap.

"Are you--the ones you were wearing twenty minutes ago?" he asks incredulously.

"No," Evan says, huffing out a quiet scoff as he crosses his arms over his chest, squeezing his pecs together. "I spilled on those ones. I'm looking for my other ones."

Tommy would actually be sympathetic to him if there wasn't a little tilt to his hip and a defiant gleam in his eye. It's as good as a dare or a red flag being waved in front of a bull.

"And if I go through all the trouble of washing my hands, go to our room, and they're, I don't know, in your drawer?" Tommy says, backing Evan up against the metal cabinet full of repair manuals and miscellaneous parts. "What's going to happen?"

Evan runs his fingertips over Tommy's chest before curling them in the straps of his tank top. "Whatever you want."

Tommy washes his hands, goes to their room, and opens Evan's drawer to find multiple pairs of shorts and joggers folded up.

"Whoops," Evan says from behind him, hooking his chin on his shoulder. "Guess I was looking in the wrong spot."

"You're such a brat," Tommy sighs, turning around and pressing Evan back by a hand on his chest until he's sprawled on their bed. When he bounces, his cheeks flush and he squirms, and Tommy lifts the backs of his knees to see the base of a plug nestled between his cheeks. "Evan."

He knows the fact that he sounds just as fond as he does exasperated sort of undermines his case.

"It was for later," Evan protests, but he's grinning.

Such a brat.

Tommy wants to worship him, but he wants to give Evan what he wants even more.

"Oh, well, if it's for later," he says nonchalantly, tugging his tank top off and pulling his sweats and underwear down, stepping out of them after he toes out of his shoes and socks. Evan starts to open his thighs, and Tommy shakes his head. "No, no. That's for later. You stay right there."

He disappears into the bathroom to clean up, and when he comes back out, Evan is fidgeting with the seams of the quilt folded up at the foot of their bed.

"Sit up by the pillows," Tommy says.

Evan scoots back, and Tommy goes around to their nightstand to pull open the drawer. He grabs the lube, flips up the cap, and pours some on his fingers. Then he puts a knee up on the bed, reaches behind his balls, and presses two of his fingers in. All the while, he keeps his eyes on Evan, who's watching Tommy's hand, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Do you know what's about to happen?" Tommy asks, and Evan nods. "I'm going to ride you at first, okay?"

"O-okay," Evan says, licking his lips.

"Can you get naked for me?" Tommy asks, and Evan scrambles to get his jock down his thighs. When he raises himself on his knees after he's tossed it away, he starts to reach back. "I didn't tell you to do that."

"But--" Evan's flush goes all the way down to his chest, and he's looking at Tommy with big, sad eyes. "But you're not--"

"No, but I will later, and you want to be ready, right?" Tommy asks, and Evan nods. "Okay. Sit down, then."

Evan does as he's told, shuddering as he does. A bead of precum comes out of the tip of his cock, and Tommy reaches over to rub his fingertip over it, spreading it around the head.

"I'll fuck you later," he says, and Evan nods eagerly, "if you make me cum first."

"Fuck, that's not fair," Even whines, squirming as Tommy keeps rubbing over the head of his cock with the pad of his finger. "I've been--"

"Acting like a brat all morning?"

Evan pouts, his eyes going shiny with tears as he huffs out angrily through his nose. "No."

Tommy pulls his fingers out of himself and crawls onto the bed, holding Evan's cock as he sinks down on it. The stretch is almost too much, but he's impatient, and he likes the aching fullness that follows him through the day.

"My bratty baby boy with his huge cock," Tommy says fondly, and Evan rubs his face between Tommy's pecs with a sniffle. "Was I ignoring you today?"

"A little," Evan admits, wrapping his arms around Tommy's waist and looking up at him with damp eyes. "You said we'd--"

Tommy cradles his cheeks in his hands and presses a kiss to his forehead. "Go to the movies. I'm sorry, I forgot. I got caught up in rebuilding the carburetor. I should've set a timer or something."

"'S okay."

Tommy looks at the alarm clock by the bed, realizes he's got about an hour and twenty minutes before the last showing of the old horror movie that they'd wanted to go see.

"No, it's not," Tommy says, running his fingers through Evan's hair. "It's not. Can you fuck me, hm? Fuck me with your thick, beautiful cock, and we'll clean up and make it on time to the last showing. I promise. You've already got me so close, baby. I tried being stern and grumpy, but you feel so fucking good and you're so beautiful, sweetheart. Make me cum, it'll be easy."

Evan starts fucking into him, pulling Tommy back by his shoulders and holding his weight there so he's right up against his prostate. Tommy feels like his eyes are going to roll back in his head.

"God, that's it, fucking--'s so good, you're so good," he groans, fucking himself on Evan's cock.

It's when Evan gets close that he holds Tommy tightly, panting against his neck.

"Fuck, you're way too tight," Evan gasps, and then he's tipping Tommy back onto his back, but he keeps his legs hooked over his thighs. Evan's long, long legs are stretched out on either side of Tommy, and then he shifts his hips a bit. When he starts thrusting, Tommy's fingers twist in the duvet because holy fuck.

It's like Evan's turned himself into a prostate massager. Tommy feels like he's about to drool. There's a burning in his groin that makes him feel like he's about to cum but can't quite get there, and he's leaking precum the way Evan normally does. His fingers are going numb, his toes are curling, and he feels like every brush of Evan's fingers over his skin is designed to send shocks through his body.

"Good boy, good--oh, your cock, baby," he slurs out, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. "'S perfect."

"Yeah?" Evan pants, thumbing at his nipples. "Feels good?"

Tommy feels like something's sitting on his chest and he can't breathe for a second, and then Evan strokes his cock and Tommy gasps in a breath, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

"Keep doing--" he chokes out, and Evan keeps stroking his cock with a little twist at the head, and Tommy nods. "Yeah, yeah, 'm gonna cum."

Evan picks up speed, and Tommy arches up, feeling like his lungs are frozen in his chest for a long moment as his orgasm goes through him like lightning. When he slams back into his body, he's oversensitive already and wants to cry when Evan hits his prostate again. He's about to protest, but Evan grabs his legs, hoists himself up onto his knees, and starts rutting into him.

"Good boy," he murmurs, reaching out to scratch through his curls. "Get y'rself there, you deserve it. You earned it. Made me cum so fuckin' good."

Evan presses his mouth to the inside of Tommy's knee and whines, slamming into him in a few ragged thrusts before he's cumming with a cry. Tommy pulls him down to kiss him, wanting to feel him shake and twitch and gasp through it.

Tommy kisses his hair and his forehead and wraps his legs around him tight, wanting to keep him there as long as he can. When Evan lifts his head for a proper kiss, Tommy's happy to provide one or five.

"You want the plug out for the movie?" he asks as Evan slowly pulls out.

"Probably?" Evan says, scratching the back of his neck with a bashful little smile. "But can I wear it after?"

"After the movie or after I fuck you after the movie?" Tommy asks, twining their fingers together. "Or both?"

Evan kisses his fingers and smiles. "Both."

Tommy sits up slowly and kisses him with a smile. "We can do both. C'mon, shower."

Under the spray of water, Evan cuddles close, and Tommy kisses his damp hair, hugging him tight.

"Not that I don't mind being tempted away from stuff by you in your underwear," he says, and he can feel Evan's cheek swell against his clavicle as he grins. "But you can always poke your head in and tell me when I forgot about something we wanted to do."

"Okay," Evan says, lifting his head and smiling at him. "But can I wear my underwear when I do it?"

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," Tommy teases, kissing his nose.

Evan's nose scrunches, and he brings himself up to his full height to kiss Tommy's chin. "Can we get popcorn?"

"We're getting the biggest tub of popcorn they sell, because I haven't eaten in hours, and you just wore me out." He squeezes Evan close and kisses his cheeks before letting go so he can grab the body wash. "I'm also buying Goobers."

He expects the giant eyeroll he gets in response, and they bicker about movie candy until they're climbing into his truck. Then they bicker about acceptable snacks to sneak into a theater, and Tommy can't believe he's in love with a guy who believes it's acceptable to sneak hot food into a theater.

As they walk up to the box office, Evan automatically reaches for his hand, and Tommy feels his heart melt a bit.

"What?" Evan asks, laughing.

Tommy leans over and kisses his cheek. "Nothing. I just love you."

Evan grins, swinging their hands between them. "Oh, is that all it is?"

"Brat."

"Love you, too," he says, kissing the back of Tommy's hand before stepping up to the box office window.