Fic: No Rain 1/1 G (BuckTommy)
TW: Grief, depression, take care of yourselves š. Reblog if you like or hit the wee heart. Also on ao3 here if you want to leave a comment.
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Buck woke up and stared at the ceiling, the white a contrast from the soft blue of the walls but mimicking the grey of the sky outside. This was his mornings now, waking up, wishing he was still dreaming, that he still had Bobby in his life, that his family still felt like family. That he wasnāt cooking recipes he used to share with others happily. That he still mattered to anyone.
Heād mattered at some point. He was sure he did; otherwise, Bobby wouldnāt have told him he loved him. Otherwise, Tommy wouldnāt have made time for him.
He hauled himself out of bed and cringed a little bit. The bruises would heal over time, but they wouldnāt have existed if anyone on the team had listened to him on the shift before. His opinions didnāt seem to matter, and Chim didnāt listen to his plans with an open mind like Bobby had come to, even if they were sometimes rejected.
Buck shuffled into the bathroom, stepped into the shower, turned it on, glad the water was at least hot, and hoped it would shake some of the chill from his bones. It wasnāt even cold outside, but since the lab door had slammed shut, heād felt cold.
Everything felt cold when he was depressed. He knew that from experience, from lonely roads and nights spent in the back of a Jeep too small for him, in Walmart parking lots or wherever he could find a place.
His kitchen was too bright when he walked in, the sun streaming through the windows, making his eyes water a little and his head pound as he shuffled to the coffee maker and turned it on. Pulling a mug out of the cupboard, he stared at it. The paint was chipped, but the outline of the helicopter on its side and the words, āLAFDās link from the streets to the skies,ā made him huff and shove it back into the cupboard, and he grabbed another one. A normal one.
He leaned on the counter and waited for the coffee to brew, head bowed as his phone dinged. He grabbed it and looked, but it was just a local news story about a fundraiser that had exceeded its goal. Good news, at least, but it hardly moved anything in him to read it.
God, he didnāt know what to do. He swiped at his cheeks when he realized he was crying again.
Heād been doing that a lot, crying without knowing it.
He hadnāt cried at the funeral.
He hadnāt cried in the days following it.
Heād cried when he got the house, knowing he had very little to fill it, and a housewarming party was out of the question. No one wanted to celebrate, least of all him.
Harry and May had gotten him a gift card from a home goods store, and Christopher had insisted he get a tomato plant because Buck had always told him fresh ingredients were best. That had almost made him smile. Almost.
Eddie, lurking in the background, had soured the moment, and he still hadnāt received an apology. He knew he wouldnāt.
Buck poured his coffee and sat down at the island, eyes fastened on the window as it began to rain, though the sun still shone through, making the water sparkle. He felt mesmerized as he watched the rain fall, creating puddles on the worn, slightly uneven railing of his back porch. Heād fix it at some point, but for now it was like his own private wishing well, too shallow to toss coins into.
And maybe heād also run out of wishes. Maybe he was cursed.
Buck fiddled with his phone, flipping it over and over on the top of the island again and again before he opened a text thread.
āHey Chimney, bad leg pain today, canāt come in,ā it was something no one would refute, as heād had to call out before, and he wasnāt exactly lying. The rain and yesterdayās call did send pain shooting from his shin upward.
His phone vibrated, his brother and interim Captain wishing him well and asking him if he needed Maddie to drop by with anything. Buck quickly declined and then turned his phone off entirely. Hopefully, the team would think he was resting if they even tried to text him.
He sat there until his coffee went cold and startled when someone knocked on the door.
Buck glanced at his reflection in the small mirror in the hallway before opening the door as the person knocked again.
āT-Tommy,ā The other manās name was a stutter that fell from his lips.
Tommy rocked on his heels and glanced up at Buck, mouth twisted into a frown, hands shoved into his pockets. āEvan,ā he bobbed his head in a nod.
Evan Heād missed the sound of his name from someone who didnāt make it sound like a curse word. āCome in,ā Buck stepped aside, leaving another room for Tommy to enter the house.
āNice place, it feels like you,ā Tommy commented as he took a look around.
āThanks,ā Buck wrapped his arms around himself as he watched Tommy survey the space and wondered if he found it lacking, as empty as it was. At least heād unpacked the boxes this time. āI like that itās smaller.ā
Two small bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a pass-through kitchen. Manageable, cozy. Heād eventually work on making it more his. Maybe.
āItās cozy,ā Tommy echoed his thoughts and turned a small smile his way.
Buck resisted the urge to lean in, to reach for that small beam of sun. āYeah, itāsā¦itās easier, living somewhere new. Somewhere I havenāt been.ā
āWant to show me around?ā Tommy asked, then wrinkled his nose. āNot like last time, I would genuinely like to see the place.ā
āYeah, yeah, of course,ā Buck nodded quickly and gestured. āLiving room, got a new couch. I wanted something plusher, better for watching TV,ā he led the way through to the kitchen. āKitchen, this will probably be what I change the most, but itās a fair size.ā He ignored that his stand mixer took up most of the counter space.
Not that it had been used lately.
āI can picture you in here,ā Tommy commented softly, looking around but then back at Buck. His gaze never seemed to leave him for long, leaving Buck feeling raw, exposed.
āYeah, well, this is me, in here,ā Buck muttered, and led Tommy to the bathroom, which thankfully had a large tub/shower combo, complete with assist bars he probably wouldnāt get rid of. He stopped outside his room, hand on the doorknob.
āIs this your room?ā Tommy gestured.
Buck nodded. āYou donāt need to see that.ā
No one needed to see it. The mess of clothes everywhere, the empty water bottles, the unmade bed, and the unclean sheets stacked in the corner. It would give him away.
Anyone who knew him knew how much he liked to keep things tidy, even his personal spaces.
āEvan,ā Tommy seemed to hesitate, and then reached out and squeezed his shoulder. āAre you okay?ā
Evan fought with himself, even as he leaned into the touch and resisted the urge to lap up more of Tommyās warmth, to dive into his arms and hold tight. He missed the strength and steadiness of Tommy, even though he now knew that his ex was not always steady, but then who was?
āDo you know that most of the houses in this neighbourhood were built in the 1920s?ā His voice cracked, and his cheeks burned with humiliation.
Tommy reached out with his other hand, pressing both hands into Evan's shoulders before he pulled him in, wrapped himself around Evan, and held him tight. āItās okay not to be okay.ā
āYou donāt have to do this,ā Evan muttered, and he knew, even as the tremors threatened to overtake him, that he was crying again, and closed his eyes tight, gripping Tommy tight in return.
āI needed to, for me, and for you,ā Tommyās voice was choked and the two of them held each other, standing in the hall as the rain slowed to a stop.
