#bucktommy fic

[wikiangela]

you're my future, baby

bucktommy rating: T words: 7.2k summary: Buck and Tommy have a conversation about their future together.

[read on Ao3]

In Buck's defense, he doesn’t mean to ask this question right then. It just slips out. He's lying in the big, strong arms of his very hot, amazing boyfriend, both sweaty and still breathless. He’s blissed out and fucked out, and so content and still dizzy after a mindblowing orgasm. So he doesn’t have a lot of control over his thoughts and words right now. So he surprises even himself when the question flies out of him. “Do you want to have children?” he asks casually, absentmindedly playing with their intertwined fingers where they’re splayed on his chest, as he lays on his back, Tommy pressed to his side. “What?” Tommy asks, surprise and even shock evident in his voice, and only then Buck realizes what he said, and he feels his eyes widen and face starts to burn, and he stares at the ceiling, but feels Tommy’s gaze on the side of his head. “I- I- I mean, like ever, some day, down the line- not like- I mean, you know, I- I just thought we should talk about it if- if- if it’s going where I hope it’s going- because I- we’ve been together for a while and I hope that- I think I-” he starts rambling and stumbling over his words, panicking just a little bit. Fuck, they’ve been doing so good the past few months, it’s honestly his best relationship he’s been in, and now he goes and screws it up by being too much, too soon, too serious- “Sorry, this is fast, I probably just freaked you out, sorry-” “Evan.” Tommy’s free hand lands on his cheek, and he gently turns Buck’s head towards himself. He meets Tommy’s soft gaze, and relaxes a little instantly. Tommy doesn’t look freaked out, just surprised, but there’s a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. “Hey, it’s okay. You just surprised me a little, that’s all. None of my relationships really got to the stage of talking about it, and if I tried, they freaked out. So I didn’t want to bring it up too soon, but you’re right, it is something to discuss. What spurred this on right now?” he asks, thumb gently moving along Buck’s cheek.

[read on Ao3]

[bi-buckrights]

A Lifetime of Preludes

Bucktommy | G | 4k | one shot

They walk side-by-side, hand-in-hand, to the middle of the dance floor and turn towards each other. “You sure about this, Evan?” Tommy asks quietly, brushing his thumb across the back of Buck’s hand and searching Buck’s face for an answer. He squeezes Tommy’s hand and steps into his space, and smiles. “I am.” Tommy smiles in return, and the joy on his face is enough to solidify Buck’s resolve. “Okay then, show me your moves.” Buck laughs and steps closer so that he can feel Tommy’s warm breath fan across his face. “I’m afraid I’ve got two left feet, so I’m gonna let you lead.” Tommy guides Buck’s hand to his shoulder before settling his own on Buck’s waist, and lifts their joined hands. “Guess this is just one more thing I get to teach you, huh?” - or: Buck and Tommy dance at Maddie and Chim's wedding, and the pieces that Buck has been searching for finally fall into place.

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[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

you carried me with you

buck/tommy | rated: T | 7K | complete | ao3

Summary: There's always been one person Tommy can talk to.

If Tommy believed in things like fate and the universe, he’d say it worked its magic to make sure he and Mel were born together.

Like it knew they’d both need someone to talk to—right from the start.

*

The Kinard place was always that house on the street.

The one with too many empties out on the curb and the faint, ever-present echo of shouted arguments drifting through the windows.

Tommy and Mel grew up learning how to keep quiet, keep still, and how to keep watch—to recognize when harsh words would turn into even harsher hands.

Learned that the only comfort ever offered would be from each other.

They were a unit. Tommy and Mel—those Kinard twins running wild through the neighborhood. Tommy had Mel’s back and she had his.

One of his earliest memories was of her pulling him out of his bed and into their closet, away from the noise, making each other giggle as they shared silly stories in the dark.

As they got older, they figured out how to climb through her bedroom window, out onto the roof. An even better hiding place. One that was far enough away to pretend they couldn’t hear the screams and the thumps. They’d huddle there together on the rough tiles and talk about being anywhere—anywhere—but there.

Their escape. Someday.

One day.

He always chalked it up to talk and dreams, but to Mel, it was a promise.

(read on ao3)

Also, if you want to picture someone for Tommy's twin sister, Mel, here you go:

[bucktheally]

smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze.

@bucktommyweek (belated) day 1: alternate first meeting

buck/tommy, 4k words, 1/4

“I’m, uh, flattered,” Buck says, and there’s absolutely no explanation for why the next thing that comes out of his mouth is, “But I don’t date people I meet on calls.” Not I don’t date men. Which he doesn’t. Hasn’t. Well, hasn’t because he doesn’t, hasn’t ever wanted to because he just doesn’t swing that way. He was totally intending to say something like I’m not into guys, but we could grab a beer as friends — he doesn’t know why, staring at Tommy Kinard's grease-streaked biceps, his mouth didn’t send out the right words.

or. Buck meets Tommy Kinard while rescuing him from a car accident. Buck's got no problem with being flirted with on the job, really, it's just — well, it's not usually older men with biceps bigger than his head who are doing the flirting. And he didn't really expect how much he'd like it.

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[les-pompiers118]

Don't Worry Baby (a 9-1-1 ficlet)

Buck/Tommy | Rated Teen and up | 2K words

Summary: It's technically not their second date, but sometimes you just have to see where the night takes you. In this case, to the ocean. Notes: Set between 7x05 and 7x06, and incorporating some of Lou's backstory for Tommy from this video.

“Well,” Buck exhales, when he and Tommy step out into the muted hum of a balmy Los Angeles evening, “I think that went a lot better than our first date.”

Tommy stops and holds up a finger in admonition. “Ah, ah.”

“Right. Not a date. Just a— What did we call it?”

“A low-stakes, no-pressure evening of fun and getting to know each other.”

“Yeah, that.” 

No matter what they’re calling it, tonight was actually great, Buck muses while they walk toward the lot where Tommy parked his truck. Buck’s not a great bowler himself, but he’s found that—as with a lot of games—the competitiveness and friendly trash talk are at least half the fun. He felt more in his element, more relaxed. Buck didn’t mind at all that Tommy won both rounds easily, with his usual confidence and charm. And he looked damn good doing it, too. God, there’s something about the sheer fucking size of him and the way he carries himself that make Buck a little weak in the knees.

“You did have a good time, I hope?” Tommy asks, sounding cautious after Buck apparently got lost in his thoughts for a few beats too long.

“Totally. Yes.” Buck glances back at the bowling alley entrance with a rueful expression. “Though I kind of wish…”

“Mmm?”

“I kinda wish that we could’ve had more of the ‘getting to know each other’ part, I guess? On the other hand, with all the noise and the music, I was a lot less likely to put my foot in my mouth again. So that was a plus.”

“Evan.”

“I know I kind of blew it last time,” Buck winces.

Tommy steps in front of Buck, forcing him to stop. He touches Buck’s wrist lightly. “Hey. If that were true, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Here… on our evening of low-stakes, platonic fun?” Buck asks with a small, playful smile.

“Hmm. I don’t remember ever using the word platonic.” Tommy lets that sink in for a second as he pointedly looks at Buck’s mouth. “Tell you what. I’ll take you to one of my favorite places in L.A. and we can talk for a while. That is, unless you have a shift in the morning.”

“No. No, I don’t.” Buck ducks his head, grinning. Feeling just so goddamn buoyant, all of a sudden. “I’d love that. Where are we going?”

“Why don’t we let it be a surprise?”

Read the rest on AO3

[burnthatbridge]

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know) 

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious.  “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all. 

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed. 

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled. 

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress. 

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul. 

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it. 

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t. 

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission. 

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else. 

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to. 

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him. 

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie. 

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.” 

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it. 

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them. 

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.” 

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

[chronicowboy]

Buck doesn't know how long they sit there in that café just talking. He's never had that before. The last time he'd done this, sat across from Natalia in the midday sun, he'd been excruciatingly aware of every passing minute as he tried to be fascinating to her, spun yarns of deaths and near-deaths and deathly comas. Here, now, Buck just exists and that seems to be more than enough for Tommy.

Tommy who hangs on his every word like Buck is the next Shakespeare even as he's rambling about rainbow emojis and allyship. Tommy whose smile is so big and wide that it carves the most beautiful caverns into his face that Buck kind of wants to live in. Tommy who grimaces every time he sips the coffee Buck bought him but dutifully drinks the whole thing over the course of their date even when Buck tells him he doesn't have to. Tommy who keeps muffling yawns into his fist every five minutes having just gotten off a twenty-four hour shift like he'd stay in that uncomfortable metal seat forever if he could.

It's the best second date of his life, so when Buck tells him to go home and get some sleep, he doesn't resist the urge to prolong the date for the few moments it takes him to walk Tommy to his car. With anyone else, so soon into whatever this might turn out to be, Buck would worry that it's too much too soon. But Tommy has been so loud in his affection even with how gentle he's made sure to stay. Buck wants to be as free in his wanting as Tommy as is, so he reaches out and slips his fingers between Tommy's, damn near euphoric when they begin to swing between them as they walk.

It takes a moment to drag his eyes up to Tommy's face, caught up in the feeling of a hand in his. It's not the first time he's held a hand, far from it. Not even the first time he's held a man's hand. But this isn't Eddie letting him squeeze his fingers as he screams in pain. This isn't Taylor indulging him every now and then. This is Tommy smiling softly down at their hands like he's as mesmerised by it as Buck is, the tips of his ears growing pink and sending a giddy thrill of satisfaction through him.

"Can I ask you something?" Tommy says, giving Buck's hand a happy little squeeze.

"Don't think there's a limit on second date questions," Buck replies.

"Evan." And, Jesus, there's something about the way Tommy says his name. Even when it's that chiding little tone that should remind him of his parents, all he feels is an overwhelming warmth, all he can hear is fondness.

"Of course you can." Buck grins and watches Tommy's smile crinkle his face all over again like he just can't help it.

"Why'd you choose that abomination of a coffee for me?" And Buck groans just to hear Tommy laugh. "Really? What even was that?"

"Black coffee four sugars," Buck mumbles, kicking a stone across the sidewalk sheepishly.

"Jesus, Evan." Tommy's laugh is something special, loud and unrestrained and the sound of sunshine maybe. "Why?"

"I-I don't know, I panicked!" Buck doesn't realise he's drifting away from Tommy until the man pulls him back in by their joined hands, and Buck lets the bump of their shoulders calm him. "Just thought, you know..." Buck turns towards Tommy's car, but Tommy drags him gently towards the Jeep, leaning against the door when they reach it.

"You just thought..."

"I don't know." He shrugs, heat rising to his cheeks under the weight of Tommy's bright-eyed attention, lowers his voice all the way. "It reminded me of you."

"What was that?" Tommy grins, using the excuse to move in a little closer.

"It reminded me of you," Buck repeats, clearer this time, more confident. "You know, bit foreboding on the outside, but all sweet on the inside."

"Christ, you really are adorable," Tommy breathes, sounding as effected as Buck feels.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies swarms in his stomach, delightfully unfamiliar to him but already intoxicating, almost addicting.

It's not two men stood on a busy sidewalk in the middle of the day then. It's just Buck and someone he really fucking likes, someone he hasn't been able to stop thinking about for a week, someone he's only kissed once somehow. And suddenly that's a fact that absolutely should be rectified.

Buck steps forward, leaning up just ever so slightly on his toes, and kisses Tommy right there in the middle of LA. And it just feels right. Overwhelming in the best of ways. It's a quick press of lips, something more suited to the schoolboy he feels than the very adult man he is, not the kiss he wants but the kiss they both need. Chaste and lovely. A hello again. A beginning.

Tommy's free hand ghosts against his jaw, a flutter of a touch as Buck falls back onto his heels and takes a breath. It takes Tommy a few moments to open his eyes which means Buck gets to watch them flutter open, dazed and delighted.

"Get some sleep, Tommy," Buck tells him, finally letting go of his hand with a squeeze. "Text me when you wake up."

"Yessir," Tommy murmurs.

And Buck can't resist another kiss then, just as quick and chaste, anything else dangerous to Buck's self-restraint, before he unlocks the Jeep and climbs in. Tommy waves him off, and Buck glances back just in time to see Tommy's hand falling down to his lips as if to chase Buck's touch.

[watchyourbuck]

do you mind? im pining

Eddie lifted his glass, bringing it to his lips, but just as he was about to take a sip, his gaze shifted, and he saw Tommy reach for Buck’s hand, their fingers intertwining. Water sprayed from Eddie’s nose and down his chin as a violent cough erupted from his throat.

He slammed his glass onto the table, sitting upright as he coughed into his hand. His eyes watered, but he couldn’t tear them away from the scene before him.

He hadn’t imagined it.

They were holding hands.

OR: 7x05 spec fic. Buck and Tommy have their first date. Eddie is jealous about it. (Includes Buck and Tommy making out at the loft + Eddie dealing with complicated feelings towards his best friend).

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[mellaithwen]

To hum and sway (bucktommy, 1.4k words)

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Spoilers/Spec-fic for 7x06 "There Goes The Groom" After the wedding that wasn’t, and the wedding that was, after the search, and the rescue, and the drama of the day, Buck finds himself sitting in the hospital waiting room when Tommy turns up...

Now that Chimney’s been moved out of the ICU, the hospital staff have kindly set up a cot bed in his room for Maddie to get some rest beside him, while Buck stands—or rather–-sits sentry outside. While his sister clearly couldn’t have predicted she’d be reading out her vows standing between a heart-rate monitor and an IV stand, Buck’s just glad she was able to read them out to Chim at all.

A nurse shuffles past Buck down the corridor, and he pulls his legs back from where they’d been obnoxiously extended in his late-night exhaustion. He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing at the bright fluorescent lights of the waiting room before stretching his neck and shoulders until he hears a satisfying pop.

His hands clench into tight fists on either side of the chair he’s sat in, and he grips them tightly until his knuckles are white and the pain of his own nails digging into the flesh of his palms is enough to distract the guilt spiral he’s been fending off all day.

Maddie and Chimney will get their big-day. Buck will make sure of it. They’ll have the party that they rightly deserve, surrounded by their friends and family. A happy day, a calm day. The quiet, intimate ceremony in their own back garden that they’d wanted all along before losing track of the guestlist. 

But that would be later. When they were both ready, and recovered. At least for now they got to wear the rings. At least they got to call each other husband and wife. 

Finally. 

“Evan?” Buck’s head shoots up from where he’d been lying back, leaning his heavy head against the wall. 

There were so few people who called him by his given name nowadays...

His parents had long since left to do what they referred to as “damage control” with the guests and venue—since the rest of the 118 were more concerned with Maddie and Chimney than appeasing distant relatives who had traveled just so gosh darn far, Evan. 

He’d corrected Bobby almost instantly on that first day so many years ago, that his name was Buck, and besides, his captain was currently driving Mr and Mrs Lee back home for the evening after spending so many hours in the same holding pattern of he’s stable—that’s the main thing—until Chimney had finally woken up and insisted with a raspy voice, that his Captain marry he and Maddie right then, right now...

And Eddie? Eddie had only ever called him Evan the once. 

(Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t think about that moment often…)

But no, it wasn’t him either; Eddie was with Hen, roaming the corridors for a vending machine that worked until Bobby came back to bully them all into finally getting into his truck and going home. So that just left…

“Tommy? W-what are you—?”

“I came as soon as I heard he’d been found. How’s Howie doing? How’s your sister?”

Buck’s brain struggles to keep up, his software in need of an update—Tommy’s here, standing in front of him. In the hospital corridor. Buck’s phone was god knows where, and with Chimney missing and his sister losing her mind with worry, he hadn’t had a chance to think about the fact he’d accidentally ghosted his date. But here he was. Standing in front of Buck like a guardian angel who’d done more than his own fair share to help in the search—all the while still wearing the clothes he’d put on as Buck’s plus one to the wedding that never happened that morning.

This is probably the closest thing to flustered he’s seen Tommy look the whole time he’s known him, and if the circumstances were different Buck thinks he would have found it endearing—but his head’s too much of a mess to even go there right now. The soft blue shirt he’s wearing is rumpled now but Buck just knows it would have been pressed and clean to start with. The slacks and matching suit jacket are both a wooly kind of mauve. Buck thinks it would have been nice to press up against the material as they slow-danced at the end of the evening. The lights would be dimmed, while the wedding band played something slow. He wonders if his parents would have noticed. He finds he also doesn’t really care.

He remembers Maddie and Chimney’s kiss under a symphony of high-pitched beeps, and the mumbled static of a tannoy announcement requesting a doctor’s presence in triage. Jee had clapped her hands in Mrs Lee’s arms before pretending to throw invisible flowers in the air just like she’d practiced with her uncle Buck.

How’s Howie doing? How’s your sister?

“They’re—” Buck falters when he finally answers, genuinely unsure in the grand scheme of things. If he were to answer literally, he’d say they were sleeping. But emotionally? Physically?  

“They’re…”

Chimney’s in the hospital. Maddie almost lost him again, and if Buck looks down, he knows he’ll find that there’s still patches of dried blood on the sleeves of his ruined pink jacket—remnants of the day, along with the pounding behind his eyes that he just can’t seem to shake. 

Tell Maddie—

No, no Chim, don’t you dare make me do that, you can tell her yourself, okay? Just stay with me. Eddie’s gone to get help and Maddie’s waiting for you to come home— 

“They’re married!” Buck finishes with a laugh that’s incredulous only so far as the circumstances of the last twenty four hours have made him seriously question his own sanity. Or maybe that’s just the last dregs of adrenaline leaving his head in a spin.

“Bobby performed the ceremony, but Chimney wore the white-gown this time.”

He’s deflecting. He’s searching for humor, for the laugh to be had at the absurdity of it all. He’s the class clown disrupting the other kids because he didn’t hear what the teacher said and he’s trying not to panic. He’s overcompensating at the academy because he has no support system to speak of in LA, and he needs this. He wants this. He can’t flunk out. He can’t fail.

He’s pushing and pushing and pushing to see where the boundary lies, to see how far he can go before he disappoints the family he’s found at the 118. He wants to know where that line in the sand is. How long until the tide comes in? How long until he drowns?

He’s….. he’s exhausted. And when Tommy tilts his head to the side and frowns, reading Buck like an open book of sad tells, suddenly the effort to keep the mask in place is too much. His shoulders slump and Buck’s whole body hunches forward with the weight of the day pressing down on him—only to find Tommy’s arms there ready to catch him when he falls. 

“He nearly died,” Buck whispers into the crook of Tommy’s neck as he’s embraced. “Chim nearly died and if we hadn’t found him when we did….” 

His voice cracks, the words seemingly too painful to even speak into the universe. Buck can’t bear to say more, and Tommy doesn’t ask him to either, he just pulls him in closer, squeezes him that little bit tighter, and holds him there for as long as he needs. He brings his hand up to the back of Buck’s neck, gently kneads at the knot he finds there. Cradles him like he’s something precious and deserving when for so long he’s convinced himself of the opposite.

After a time, when Buck’s breathing starts to even out, the hitch in his chest seemingly dissolved into the atmosphere, and the shock has thawed enough for him to feel the soft material of Tommy’s jacket under his fingertips, he finds that Tommy has been slowly moving their bodies into a sway. Leading, just a little bit—really they’re barely moving at all—but if Buck pretends, he thinks he can hear music playing. 

“You said you wanted to dance,” Tommy says; answering the question Buck hadn’t gathered up the courage to ask yet. For the first time in hours, Buck’s mind goes quiet.

“Thank you,” he whispers a little self-consciously when the words catch in his throat. 

Thank you for coming, thank you for holding me, thank you for being here with no judgment and no expectations. Thank you for caring when we barely even know each other. Thank you for treating me kindly, for being gentle and soft when all day I’ve felt like I was being strangled with barbed wire. Thank you. 

When Tommy hums in response, Buck can’t help but lean into the embrace, finding solace in his arms. He can feel the warmth of his breath drifting along the side of his neck, soothing the goosebumps that reside there. 

And when he presses a soft kiss on the stubble of Tommy’s jaw, it tickles.

-fin.

[usereddie]

this is what it feels like word count: 1.3k | rated T

Buck blushes. Always has. Gets flustered easily, ducks his head with a giddy, boyish grin at any compliment. It’s poetic, really, that he’s a firefighter because he flushes bright, fire engine red every time.

Still, though. He’s not sure he’s ever blushed as much as he does with Tommy.

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wrote most of this during class i hope guimarães rosa can forgive me for not listening to my teacher talk about his brilliant stylistic choices

[wikiangela]

we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide)

bucktommy rating: G words: 5.6k summary: Tommy cuts their first date short, but to his surprise he gets a call from Evan just a few days later. or, 7x05 from Tommy's POV.

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It’s honestly a surprise when just a few days later, late in the evening, Tommy’s phone rings, and Evan’s name pops up. His traitorous heart beats a little faster when he answers the call and leans against the kitchen counter, where he’s been finishing up making a late dinner. “Evan?” he asks, confused but trying to play it casually. He’s good at that. He thinks years of pretending, trying to act straight, playing off gay jokes and even joining in to not make anyone suspicious made him way too good at acting cool and unbothered. He’s definitely surprised and excited, though. “Hey.” he smiles to himself. “Uh, hey- hi, Tommy, hey.” Evan stutters, and Tommy can imagine that flustered smile.  “Hi.” Tommy greets him again, grinning now. “Gotta say, I didn’t really expect you to call.” “I- I know, I just- I wanted to talk?” he says it more like a question, then huffs quietly, takes a breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee. With me. Tomorrow morning?” he says, sounding nervous but hopeful. And Tommy- Tommy has had a very hard time trying to say no to Evan, especially when he doesn’t actually want to. Besides, they can be friends, if whatever potential for romance didn’t work out. He’d be fine with that. He’s friends with Eddie, anyway, so he’ll surely have to be around Evan sometimes, and he doesn’t want it to be weird. “If you’re not- if you’re not busy? “Yeah, okay.” Tommy responds, trying to ignore the excitement swirling in his stomach at just the thought of seeing Evan. “I can do morning. What time?” “Uh, how’s nine? There’s this place I usually go to- I can text you the location? Or we can meet somewhere you like, that’s totally-” “Evan.” Tommy interrupts softly, still smiling. Even over the phone, even still this nervous, Evan is just adorable. “I’m sure your pick is fine. Just text me, and I’ll be there. Tomorrow at nine.” he assures. He thinks if Evan wanted to meet right at this second, he’d be there in a heartbeat. Which is a surprising thought. He really didn’t want to get attached this fast, but there’s just something about Evan… “Okay.” Evan breathes out. “So- so I’ll text you.” he repeats. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow.” Tommy says, before Evan stumbles through a goodbye and hangs up, and Tommy just chuckles to himself. He’s curious what Evan wants to talk to him about. But he also needs to be careful, because he can see himself falling for him so fast and deep and easy. He shakes his head at himself. He’s being silly and ridiculous. Evan makes him feel silly and ridiculous and giddy, and Tommy doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this. 

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[honestlydarkprincess]

you gotta be kitten me

buck x tommy || rated: t || wc: 2.1k

“Alright, well what do you— wait, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Buck asked, baffled.

“It sounded like…” Tommy trailed off, looking around them for the source of the noise. “It sounded like a kitten.”

Or, the one where on the way back home from a date, Buck and Tommy find an abandoned kitten.

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[loveyouanyway]

warning: silly boyfriends

bucktommy | social media "fic" | mature rating

buck ❤️🔥 @/whatthebuck

Tommy @/itstommykinard It looked at me first 😩

buck ❤️🔥 @/whatthebuck oh yeah? you gonna do anything about that?

Tommy @/itstommykinard Patience, Evan. You'll find out soon

chimney! 🙃 @/howiehan118 so this is why I shouldn't go on twitter.

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tags 💖

@wikiangela @bluehuskey2099 @smilingbuckley

@buffaluff @geekwarrior107 @fairypaw

@kissoona @raptorrunner37 @virahaus

@spotsandsocks @huhwhatthefuck @aspecbuddie

@jesuisici33 @aringofsalt @thegingerparty

@dangerpronebuddie @lenacopperleaf

@betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jesuskleist

@youreademonroyce @teacup12345

[bucktheally]

can't be said that i'm an early bird; it's ten o'clock before i say a word.

@bucktommyweek (belated) day 2: someone from their past

buck/tommy, 7k words, part 2/4

When Lucy Donato invites the entire 118 to her engagement party even though they haven't seen her in months, Buck figures it's pretty much a courtesy thing. He's ready to make his excuses, send a gift, and spend the day off catching up on Netflix instead. Then he finds out where she's working now — air support, in the same unit as Tommy Kinard, the guy Buck saved from a car wreck two weeks ago. The guy who, for some reason, Buck hasn't been able to stop thinking about ever since. Maybe, Buck decides in a fit of insanity, he should go to Lucy's party after all.

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[sunshinediaz]

something like magic | 2.5k, teen

“Tonight was good,” Tommy says, bringing Buck out of his thoughts. The orange sunset turns his brown hair into molten, lava-like gold. “I had a great time with you, Evan.”  Buck looks over at him—up at him, just a little bit, which sends a thrill straight to his gut. He’s not used to being smaller than his date. “Yeah?” He laughs, nervous. “I’m surprised.”  “Why?”  Buck opens his mouth to answer and then closes it right after because he needs a moment to gather his words. The night went wonderful, better than he expected only because he doesn’t have the greatest history of first dates in general, but Eddie’s appearance sent him off his rocker. He’s not ashamedof dating a man because there’s nothing to be ashamed of, but he would’ve liked to figure a few more things out before he let the world know.  And Eddie? God, he’s—he’s something. Buck hasn’t quite figured out what yet.  “Well—I mean—I’m not the best at dates and Eddie just—” “Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” Tommy interrupts, not unkind, and leads him through the crosswalk. “Whatever you and Eddie have going on is none of my business.”  Buck feels his face turn red with heat. “We don’t—there’s not—” He stops and shakes his head because he hasn’t began to pick through the prickly, syrupy emotions he’s feeling for Eddie right now. “You’re making me blush.”  Tommy laughs, deep and rich. It sends a shiver up and down Buck’s spine, the kind that makes him happy he’s wearing a light jacket so nobody can see the goosebumps on his skin. He hasn’t been this besotted with somebody since he can remember; he’s enjoying it entirely too much and hopes it stays like this forever.  “You’re doing that all by yourself.” Tommy bumps into his shoulder playfully. “You’re good at dates, Evan. I don’t have anything to complain about.”  Buck ducks his head, somewhat bashful, and grins. “Good enough you’ll want to do it again?” he proposes. “Tuesday evening, maybe?” 

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[tommykinardkink]

This is a first that Buck has been waiting for with a strange mixture of excitement and trepidation. Because that's what happens when you date someone, right? At some point, if things go well, you'll see them naked.

And it's not like Buck's never seen another cock before, okay? He watches porn, he's been in the locker room at the station or whatever.

But this is different. This isn't just some random dick slip at the gym. It’s Tommy.

And Tommy's really big.

They’re lying pressed together on the too-small couch, Buck half on top of Tommy to accommodate the both of them. The movie they’d been watching is playing softly in the background, both of them having forgotten about it when one heated kiss had turned into two, three, his hands slipping up beneath Tommy’s Henley while Tommy’s fingers toyed with the drawstring of his sweats. And then, in a moment of reckless want, Buck had pulled back enough to free Tommy from the confines of his jeans.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Only now, Buck finds that he can't move, throat dry as he stares down at the length of Tommy's cock.

"Evan." He jumps a little when he feels Tommy's fingers thread through his hair, using the gentle grip to force him to meet Tommy's gaze. Tommy's brows are pulled together, lips turned down in a worried frown.

"You know you don't have to do this, right? There’s no rush."

"Yeah, I-I know. I want to." It belatedly occurs to him that maybe Tommy isn't ready for this—he thinks about teeth and suddenly isn't sure he'd want someone with no blowjob experience near his junk either—and he hurriedly begins to back pedal. "Unless you don't want—"

He doesn't get much further than that, Tommy pulling him up further to press a hungry kiss to his parted lips. It's a welcome distraction, and Buck feels his own cock throb in response, his hips thrusting infinitesimally against Tommy's thigh.

But it doesn't get much further than that before Tommy breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Buck's and breathing heavily.

"There is nothing I want more than to have your hands on me," he says, voice rough.

"Then let me do this for you. Please?"

"Fuck." He watches the way Tommy's throat works before he answers in a shaky voice, "Y-yeah. Okay."

Seeing Tommy look so wrecked when they haven't even started yet bolsters Buck's confidence some as he turns his attention back to Tommy's cock. It's long and so thick. Now probably isn't the best time, but Buck allows himself a moment to study it. The vein running up the length of the shaft, the way the foreskin has pulled back from the sensitive head, his balls hanging full and heavy between his legs...

Buck's mouth waters.

Steeling himself—C'mon, Buck, you rappelled onto a capsized cruise ship from a helicopter in the middle of a hurricane, get it together—he reaches out to take Tommy in hand.

He isn’t sure what he'd been expecting. It's a dick. He's got one of those and he's jerked off plenty. Brow furrowed in concentration, he gave an experimental stroke.

Above him, Tommy hisses. Okay, yeah, that is not encouraging. Buck peeks up at him, only to find Tommy staring at him intensely, his chest already heaving.

Huh.

"You like that?" Buck asks, a teasing grin curving his mouth as he pumps Tommy again, slow and easy.

"Christ, Evan." A muscle in Tommy's jaw jumps and he draws in a deep breath through his nose. "Do that again."

The bite of command in Tommy's voice makes him shiver. He does as he's told despite the awkward angle, his eyes darting between Tommy's expression and the tip of his cock is beaded with precum. Feeling daring, Buck rubs his thumb over the droplet, spreading it out over the sensitive head.

Tommy's hips buck into his hand.

Yeah, this is gonna be fun.

Buck laughs, twisting around to settle himself between Tommy's legs, the shaft only inches away from Buck's mouth. He bites his lip, hesitating, before deciding to just go for it. Holding Tommy's gaze, he leans in to brush a featherlight kiss on the underside of Tommy's cock.

His reaction doesn't disappoint. He curses loudly, hands winding back into Buck's hair and tightening almost to the point of pain. They've only just begun, and already Tommy's control is threatening to fracture.

He's beautiful.

Buck's not feeling brave enough to take Tommy into his mouth, not yet, but it's almost better like this. This way, he gets to watch Tommy's head thrashing against the arm of the couch, see the way his body strains towards the pleasure. Buck jerks Tommy off, rubbing his thumb over the tip of his cock and through the precum accumulating there. With every second, his movements slowly gain confidence as Tommy gets closer to the edge. He categorises the other man's every reaction, filing it all away for the next time they do this.

Jesus, he's already desperate for next time.

"Evan, please, I—"

"What do you need, babe? C'mon, tell me."

But Tommy does something even better. He releases his hold on Buck's hair and reaches down to wrap one hand around Buck's, guiding his movements. Buck's breath catches as Tommy's fingers squeeze his, jerking Tommy's cock harder and rougher and—

"Fuck."

Tommy's body tenses for an endless moment before he breaks. Ropes of cum shoot up Tommy's belly and chest, and a few errant drops land on Buck's face. The sounds he makes as he comes undone, the helpless grunts and shudders that wrack his body are so fucking hot, that Buck has no choice but to get up onto his knees to give himself room to reach for his own cock. Tommy's come slicks the way for Buck's hand as he works the shaft

Tommy stares at him with hazy eyes, lips parted as he tries to catch his breath. Christ, he's so gorgeous like this, utterly debauched with his flushed cheeks and come splattered skin.

And Buck's just going to add to it. It's that thought that tips him over the edge. His orgasm rolls through him, taking his breath away as his own come paints Tommy's abdomen. And all the while, Tommy watches him, dark eyes warm and gentle and hungry for something Buck can't quite put a name to.

His knees give out under him, and he falls forward in a boneless heap, narrowly avoiding elbowing Tommy in the ribs. Tommy lets out a little ooof as he bears Buck's weight.

"Wow," Buck says after a brief, breathless silence.

“Yeah.” Tommy runs a shaky hand up and down his back, and Buck arches into the touch like a cat. He feels his eyes drifting shut, a bone deep satisfaction beginning to lull him to sleep.

“… go shower,” Tommy’s saying from somewhere above him. Buck frowns and burrows closer into his body. It’s gonna take a friggin’ crane to get him to move now.

“Evan.” A quiet sigh. “I know you can hear me.”

“Hng.”

The sound of his laugh makes Buck smile against Tommy’s skin. The hand that had been rubbing his back moves back up into his hair. Buck can’t hold back a shiver at the sensation of Tommy’s nails scratching at his scalp.

“C’mon,” he coaxes. “If you get up now, I’ll even wash your hair for you.”

That gets Buck’s attention. He lifts his head to squint at Tommy.

“Promise?”

Tommy’s smile makes his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle at the corners. It’s an expression that never fails to give Buck butterflies.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I promise.”