Avid reader/writer. Prone to binge watching and non-stop talking about books/series. Can fall in love with simply one line of a book/song/movie. Love the English language. Owner of a never-ending TBR and to be watched lists.
A merchant of Baghdad was sipping tea in his garden when his servant ran up to him, breathless and trembling.
“Master,” he cried. “I have just seen Death in your garden. She pointed at me with such a ghastly stare that I knew she had come for me.”
“So you have seen Death,” the merchant replied, “as each man must. I understand your alarm.”
“I must leave Baghdad and go far away from Death. I have a brother in Samarra. I will go there tonight, Master, and escape my fate.”
“Then take my swiftest horse, and go with my blessing.”
As the hoofbeats of the fleeing servant faded in his ears, the merchant, curious, walked through his gardens to confront Death.
“My servant has done no harm. Why do you disturb him with your ghastly stare?”
Death smiled. “I did not mean to. I was merely surprised to see him in Baghdad when I have an appointment with him this evening, at his brother’s house in Samarra.”
old illustration from last year
published in Cricket magazine
does anyone remember the "buck leaves a series of unhinged voicemails" fic i wrote for crash that helicopter week? yeah, me neither. anyway, it's finished now!
all three chapters available here, 5.4k total, rated t to be on the safe side
Thought I'd tell you that I was thinking about Tommy and Theo being black lagoon creatures today. So interested in the idea of Tommy and Theo becoming fast friends while Buck and Tommy are still on completely different pages, wondering how long it takes the two of them to figure their shit out and how long until spend time together that's not only about having a kid in need in common.
Hello, friend! I am also thinking about Tommy and Theo being creatures from the black lagoon. I'm not a big kidfic person and I hate how Theo was introduced BUT I am a big fan of monsters and weird magical bullshit and tommy torment nexus kinard. So here's a little bit more of this au.
--
I don't think it's not a good idea," Sal said, as they worked to rip out the last raised bed. Gina's pandemic project had been gardening, and Sal's pandemic project, and therefore Tommy's pandemic project, had been building raised beds for her to grow tomatoes and cucumbers and melons and the doomed corn in. Six years later, Gina was over the gardening kick, their daughters never got into it, and now the family wanted to put in a pizza oven. "You're just setting yourself up to get hurt again."
"I'm not setting myself up for anything," Tommy said, pulling a plank free. One side down, three more to go. Sal hadn't decided on whether he wanted to lug the old planks down to the landfill or chop them up for firewood for a firepit that he absolutely did not need given that they lived in LA, and so Tommy pitched it into the pile from the three other beds.
"Tell that to your little lights," Sal said.
His little lights, as Sal called them, were more yellow than green and shone so softly that they were almost drowned out by the sun, a state that had more to do with his physical labor than whatever emotional bullshit Sal thought was going on.
"He needs help," Tommy said. "Speaking of, giving me a hand with this."
They pried another board loose. Sal tossed it towards its brethren. "Yeah, he always needs something. Can't be bothered to answer your texts, can't be bothered to check to see if you still got a job, can't be bothered to apologize for being a dick, but the moment he needs a huge fucking favor he miraculously remembers how phones work."
"He did apologize for being a dick." The glow brightened. He should have kept his over shirt on. Sure, maybe he would pass out from heatstroke, but at least it'd give him the illusion of possessing a modicum of dignity.
"Because that was my point." Sal wrestled with a rusted nail before giving the plank a few good kicks to loosen it.
"His kid is like me," Tommy said quietly. His bioluminescent cells shifted from yellow to orange.
"And you're the only person in all of Los Angeles that can lend a hand? No other support group or organization that Buckley can reach out to? He's got no choice but to call up his ex."
The orange darkened. There was the telltale itch of his spines trying to grow and lift. "I owe you an apology, Sal. I've been falling down on my godfather duties if I've missed your daughters being bullied and kicked out of school because they got a little extra rung in their DNA. You gotta give me the names of all these people just itching to help out the fucking monsters."
It wasn't until Sal winced that Tommy realized that his voice had dropped and deepened, his lungs expanding to push sound through water. He took a step back and forced himself to unclench: fists, spines, lungs. Sal wasn't a threat. His color shifted from red to orange to yellow. His lungs took in air. He made himself as human as possible.
"You're right," Sal said. "I'm being an asshole. I'm sorry."
"You have no idea how lonely it is to grow up like this," Tommy said, and used ripping up another plank as an excuse to not look at him. "If I can make it a bit easier for the kid, even if it's just letting him know there's someone else like him, then that's what I'll do. It doesn't have anything to do with Evan."
Sal sighed but didn't call him on that last sentence. "No one knows better than me how lucky that kid is to have you in his corner. Well," he added after a moment of consideration, "no one besides my wife. You gave up a day off just because our girls hinted at wanting a pizza oven. That kid has no idea the lottery he just won."
"But?" Tommy prompted when Sal uncharacteristically hesitated.
"But I don't like how Buckley jerks you around." Sal kicked at the last plank of rotting wood. "He calls you up, you go haring off no questions asked, and then you're left holding the bag. Look what happened last time."
What happened was the brass stuck him on unpaid leave and his license got suspended for six months.
"Bobby died." The yellow bled out until all that remained was bleached white. He grabbed his shirt. Fuck the heat. Anything was better than his own cells betraying him.
"Yeah, he did," Sal said with a sigh. "That doesn't excuse the shit Buckley pulled."
Tommy shrugged and kindly didn't point out that Sal and Gina had been on and off for years, breaking up violently and then reconciling just as violently, unable to stop hurting each other in small, terrible ways. And then Gina's brother had died, and Sal hadn't hesitated before taking leave and going back east with her for the funeral. It would be another year before the two of them worked their shit out and Sal walked into the 118 after a forty-eight off with a wedding ring on his finger.
"I know where I stand now," Tommy said. "It'll be different this time."
"You're such a fucking liar," Sal said, and lovingly grappled him into a loose headlock. "Let's finish this last bit off and then we'll take a break. I even got you some of that pretentious beer you like. And take that shirt off. I'm getting heatstroke from just looking at you."
Tommy took the shirt off; he was back to his baseline blue. "I better be invited over for that first pizza."
"Oh, I'm making you the official taste tester. The girls saw some video about a pear gorgonzola honey monstrosity and now that's all they want to make." Sal was the picture of an exasperated dad. "What's wrong with a classic pepperoni pie? I don't know what the fuck kids these days are thinking."
In the worst New York accent he could manage, which was proudly atrocious, Tommy said, "Eh, what's the world coming to that kids these days don't even appreciate a good pepperoni pie. Back in my day we had a slice after playing stickball in the street."
"I know you ain't calling me old," Sal said.
He shrugged with the most obnoxious grin he could manage. "If the walking uphill both ways in the snow shoe fits."
"Get the fuck outta here," Sal said, and tried to get him into much tighter headlock.
They scuffled like they were back to being twenty-year old kids, kicking up the dirt from the beds that had gone dry and fallow from disuse. His radial network of bioluminescent cells shifted from blue to the green of new shoots. He never got to roughhouse like this when he was a kid, not with the way he glowed and the ever present threat of his spines emerging. Tommy, with a sudden ferocity that nearly let Sal get him in a half nelson, wanted Theo to have everything he never got: friends who weren't afraid of him, a parent who loved him, a body he could trust.
"All right, you old mook," Sal said, shimmying out of Tommy's loose hold, "let's finish this up. I promised you some pretentious beer."
"You did." He knocked fond knuckles into Sal's shoulder as they got back to work.
hello hi hello i heard it was torturing tommy kinard hours. he’s trapped in a hot elevator with his ex (buck) and his ex’s ex (dealers choice) for hours with nothing to do but talk about their feelings (he’d rather die) (seriously he’s literally in hell)
It has to be Taylor, doesn't it? Because they match. This is Tommy's POV, and Evan and Taylor match. They've got the eyes and the smiles and the cheeks. They look great together, they look like the heterosexual dream. Both kind (he's assuming here about Taylor) and driven and passionate about their jobs. (Tommy is making a lot of assumptions about someone he has only seen on TV, but the elevator is really hot and he's also maybe having a little break from reality, seeing Evan for the first time in a long time.)
The smiles are awkward, but it doesn't make them less gorgeous, and Tommy keeps thinking their children would never stop smiling. They would come out smiling and well adjusted, and Tommy is for some reason imagining Evan as some sort of house husband, even thought Evan wouldn't like that at all, and their jobs don't exactly allow for the picture in Tommy's head, where Evan has dinner ready, when his hot wife comes home from the office, but whatever. This is the future he has imagined for Evan. He doesn't have to deal with the gay stuff, he gets to live a normal life, that maybe veers a little bit too hard into the kind of world those assholes on TV keep trying to force everyone to do, but it's easy, right? If you do what society tells you, you get rewarded, and if anyone deserves to be rewarded, it's Evan.
The two of them never sat down and discussed their exes at length, but Tommy has heard about Taylor a few times – and never the bad stuff, so surely, they could get back together. Evan introduced her as his ex, but it didn't sound like it meant anything. Evan introduced him as just Tommy, so maybe they're skipping the whole ex thing.
But Evan gets nervous and doesn't stop talking, and suddenly Evan outs himself to his ex, who doesn't look surprised at all. (I don't think you can have adventorous sex with someone and not notice certain things.) Suddenly Taylor is interested in him and sweat starts pouring down his back.
Taylor asks why they broke up and Evan explains it to her, but he explains it wrong, and Tommy is going to die here anyway, so he might as well set the record straight. Evan and Taylor are going to survive this, they're way too pretty to die. But then Evan gets upset, because he thinks Tommy is in the wrong, and OK, they're good at bickering. Fighting? Less so. The elevator is too small to contain their emotions, which, at this point, Tommy would like for the cables to break and plummet them to their deaths. It would be a novel way to go for a firefighter. Nothing is even on fire.
But then he looks at the number above the door and they're only on the fourth floor and there's no basement, so they probably wouldn't die.
Suddenly Taylor Kelly's hand is on his arm and Taylor Kelly's face tells him to breathe. Which is probably a good idea. Seems like he stopped doing that. She's a very pretty woman, no wonder Evan is into her. Not all that dissimilar to Abby, actually. With the hair and the eyes.
And Tommy isn't that. Tommy isn't a beautiful, redheaded woman with small hands and a good attitude.
When Tommy's vision clears up and the walls stop closing in, he sees Evan sitting in the opposite corner, looking upset.
”Are you OK?” Evan asks him and Tommy can't exactly be honest, can he? Tommy has aged approximately twenty years, since he walked away. Everything hurts, he doesn't remember what happiness feels like. Evan has aged in reverse, looking more beautiful than ever. He's bigger than before, which looks like a healthy mix of fat and muscle.
The kind of body kids would love. Soft for cuddles and strong enough to throw them around – nevermind the fact that Evan told him he has no desire to become a parent. Tommy had helped babysit Jee-Yun one time – only the once – and Evan had leaned into him and told him how exciting it was to hold her for the first time, and how ecstatic he was that he wasn't taking her home; that she wasn't his.
But that doesn't fit the narrative in Tommy's head, and he's managed to convince himself that half the memories of their relationship are fake anyway, and it wasn't actually as good as he remembers.
Part of him wants to be honest, since he doesn't expect to see Evan after this (whether he dies or not), but he can't tell his ex and his ex's ex that he's regretted the breakup since the moment the door to Evan's loft closed behind him. Or maybe the moment the words left his mouth. Even as he said them, he knew he didn't mean it.
”I'm fine,” Tommy says.
”Right,” Evan nods. ”Because you look fine.”
And OK, Tommy has a type, and a lot neuroses, and Evan being catty always gets him going, even now, apparently. ”I get claustrophobic.”
”No, you don't.”
”It's hot in here.”
”You're a firefighter.”
Tommy is not a patient man. He shoves down all the nicknames that would probably hurt a lot and puts on a grimace, that could maybe pass as a smile, and says, ”I'm uncomfortable. I'd like to get out of here.”
Evan calls dispatch again, but the situation hasn't changed. There are several big emergencies going on at the moment, and they're safe, so they're not currently a priority.
They sit in agonising silence for a while. Taylor is by far handling it better than the two of them. Evan is still pouty and upset, but seems to be behaving, beacuse of Taylor. As much as he's telling himself he wouldn't, the way Evan is looking at him tells him that Evan would be so far up his ass right now, if they were alone.
And maybe he longs for that, a little bit. Maybe it would be nice if Evan lost it a little bit and got demanding. But Taylor seems nice and maybe she never found out she was dating a crazy person.
Tommy misses dating a crazy person. He misses Evan like a limb. His life is so fucking boring and empty. They're too far from Harbor, but Tommy knows at least two people currently on shift, who'd go rogue if he called. It was his first thought, when no one answered the emergency button, and 911 said they were on hold, but Tommy is also a crazy person, who wouldn't mind figuring out what would happen, if he got locked in a room with Evan. Too bad his nervous system is a little bitch, who can't handle the heat.
It's so hot in the elevator, Tommy can feel his eyeballs sweating.
”It was me, OK?” Tommy blurts, when Evan won't stop pouting. ”I broke it off, because I thought you weren't fully in it.”
”I asked you to move in!” Evan explodes.
”We don't know each other! But I wanted to. I wanted to know you, Evan. I wanted to keep getting to know you.”
Evan's lip wobbles for a second, before he bites down on it. He glances at Taylor, and tucks himself more tightly into the corner. ”I wanted that, too.”
Taylor is sitting in the third corner, trying to do the math and figure out what the hell happened, because so far, it sounds pretty stupid. She asks how they met and Evan tells her about the hurricane. Tommy clocks the professional interest immediately, but she probably can't sell the story so long after the fact.
Taylor is kind to Evan, tells him she's not surprised he would like someone like Tommy. Which is a crazy thing for your ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend to say, even if Evan doesn't seem to think so.
Nothing gets solved in the elevator. They talk in fits and starts, all three of them, but nothing gets off the ground. When it's finally their turn to get rescued, they're like three cats in a pillowcase.
As they get checked for heat stroke, Evan has reached peak pout. Tommy is worse off than the other two, and spends a long few minutes sitting in the ambulance, until Evan comes over and tells him, ”She dumped me, so stop looking at her like that.”
”Like what?”
”Like I'm about to get on the back of her motorcycle.”
It takes Tommy entirely too long to understand that the motorcycle isn't literal.
”I dumped you, too.”
”Yeah, but you didn't mean it,” Evan huffs. ”She did.”
Tommy's whole body is drenched in sweat and he's pretty sure he's going to pass out, if he attempts to stand up. ”I didn't mean it?” Evan is standing in the worst spot, with the sun right behind his head, and Tommy thinks he might throw up.
”No,” Evan says firmly. ”You're dumb. And mentally ill. And … And I should've called you.”
The medic passes Tommy a bottle of water, which he gulps down. He reaches out for Evan's hip and pushes him to the side, so he blocks the sun better, and Evan grabs the chance to hold his hand. His clammy, disgusting hand that has been touching the floor of an elevator for the better part of a day.
The medic hands him a second bottle, cap already off. Tommy sips this one. Maybe the hospital would be a good idea, but he's really not in the mood for it.
”Did you drive here?” Evan asks.
”I did.”
”Let me take you home? I'll make sure you don't die.”
Tommy turns to the medic and tells her, ”I'm not as old as I look.” She doesn't care.
”Come on, old man. You can complain all the way home, if you want. Or pass out. Whatever you're in the mood for.”
”And then what?”
”And then I'll corner you in your own home, where you can't escape.”
I think I saw you asking for story titles, so here is "When There is a Hunger."
Thanks for the prompt!! I loove this title and it pretty much instantly inspired a story when I read it, although--admittedly--I'm not sure why this story 😅I think my first thought was this is about a shifter and it sort of grew from there. I'm not sure if the title exactly fits (once i write part 2 i might be able to explain it better lol) but I hope you like it anyway. Endings are hard so it kind of ended weird, but there is going to be a part 2 to this because I have more I want to explore, but I just wanted to get this part out there :) This is 1,478 words just fyi.
Buck is a park ranger (i guess they are called state park peace officers, at least in California) in some undetermined place in California. Or—potentially he has a different job, I'm just not sure what but basically the premise is—
Buck was put on dedicated assignment at this particular park 5 years ago, shortly after he participated in the search for the missing pilot—Tommy Kinard—whose helicopter crashed in these same woods. Unfortunately it was only ever a search and not a rescue, or even a recovery—they never found a body, only the burning wreckage of a Leonardo AW139. Buck passes by the crash site on his patrols and every so often he finds himself lingering, checking the area for anything that could have been missed. He doesn't know why he does it, it's been years and the only thing he's ever encountered near the site is a mountain lion.
The first time he'd nearly had a heart attack—the big cat couldn't have been more than 50 yards away—but it didn't advance and neither did Buck. He sees the mountain lion from time to time, usually around the same area, and they always keep a polite distance from each other without incident, so Buck never reports the sighting. There haven't been animal attacks and the few times a sighting had been reported were far away from any campgrounds or hiking trails and were during the first month of the active search mission for Tommy Kinard. Besides, Buck wouldn't want any of his more trigger-happy colleagues to get any ideas.
One day, he's called into work on his day off. The office is chaos when he enters. A woman was found dead in the woods, two puncture wounds in her neck. Buck's fellow rangers, Adam and Eric, aka Tweedledee and Tweedledum, are arguing over who gets to be the one to kill the mountain lion.
Buck's heart hammers in his chest. "What makes you think it was a mountain lion?"
"The wound's consistent with their bite," Adam says.
"And the victim's boyfriend said he saw a mountain lion not far from the campsite, near where he found the body," Eric says.
Buck rolls his eyes. "Oh, the boyfriend said that? How convenient. Don't you know it's always the boyfriend?"
Buck's boss, Amelia, sighs.
"I've never seen"—they all look at him and Buck bites his tongue—"I've never seen any reports about sightings near any of the campsites, have you? What about the boyfriend—is he being questioned?"
Adam and Eric exchange looks that Buck ignores, but Amelia looks at Buck like he's grown two heads. "Yes, of course he's being questioned, but Buck—this is pretty open and shut."
Buck sighs. "I just—I don't think a mountain lion did this."
She frowns. "Then I guess you've got two weeks to prove it."
"Then what?"
"You know what, Buck."
Adam mimics the sound of a gun cocking, Eric mimics the sound of one shooting.
Buck doesn't wait for Amelia to turn around for him to give them both a finger each.
Two weeks.
Buck pours over the preliminary findings report, the autopsy still pending. Nobody had mentioned to him earlier that the victim also took a blow to the back of the head. According to the report, it was most likely she had fallen when the animal attacked her.
Buck tosses and turns and loses sleep over it that night. The next day, he finds the mountain lion near the crash sight again. Maybe he's sleep-deprived, or maybe he's lost his mind, because he finds himself walking closer to the animal, his hands up as if to show he means no harm. "Listen," Buck says, even though he knows it can't understand him, no matter how much intelligence seems to be behind those eyes. "If you see anyone else with this uniform"—he pulls at his shirt—"you run as fast as you can in the other direction, okay? Those assholes will shoot first and ask questions never."
The mountain lion walks away first and Buck stays standing there until it disappears amongst the trees.
Buck obsessively checks for updates, but there still hasn't been anything found to indicate foul play.
One week.
The weather report predicts rain. That's all Buck needs is to have any potential evidence washed away. He's poking around the place where the woman's body was found when he hears a branch snap and he sees the mountain lion walking slowly toward him. He wonders, then, if he'd got it all wrong. Just because he's never seen it this close to a campsite, doesn't mean it's never been this close. It stops a few yards away, turns around, and walks a few feet back in the direction it came from. Then it turns its head and looks at Buck.
"Uhh—"
The mountain lion walks towards him again, much closer this time, not stopping until it's right in front of Buck. Buck doesn't move a muscle—he's honestly not sure that he can. The mountain lion bites the billowing sleeve of Buck's jacket and tugs, pulling Buck forward and off-balance. What—does it want him to follow? "Okay, but if you eat me, I'm going to be so mad." Buck swears the animal huffs. It lets go of Buck's jacket and Buck follows it until it stops, maybe 200 yards away. Then it noses at the ground, scattering a pile of leaves and sticks, and digs into the dirt until it just barely unearths what appears to be a bloody article of clothing. Then it sits back and looks at Buck.
"Holy shit." He's not thinking when he rubs the animal's head and murmurs, "good kitty," but at least he doesn't lose a hand. The mountain lion pushes against his hand, emitting a low rumble from his chest. Buck laughs quietly. It doesn't stick around as Buck puts on his gloves and bags the bloody clothing and the bloody rock it was hiding.
It's enough evidence to prove the mountain lion innocent and the boyfriend guilty.
Eric and Adam are pissed, but that's nothing new.
It's Buck's day off, but he's walking through the woods anyway. He wants to tell his four-legged friend the good news. All of a sudden, a shot rings out from the direction of the crash site. Buck's blood runs cold. "No, no, no," he shouts as he runs faster than has in his life. He doesn't want to believe his eyes as he falls to the ground and pulls the mountain lion onto his lap, blood pouring from the bullet wound in its side. He doesn't have a medical kit with him, so he tears a strip of cloth from his shirt and uses it as a tourniquet. He's frantic as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, he curses when he drops it on the ground.
All of a sudden, the creature in his arm trembles and yowls and Buck's tears are clouding his vision, so he feels the change before he can comprehend what he's seeing. "Holy shit. You're"—not a mountain lion? A man? Hot?—"you're Tommy Kinard." He picks up his phone and frantically calls 911, giving them their coordinates and explaining Tommy's condition. He's covering Tommy with his jacket just as Eric walks into the clearing. "You shot him, you asshole."
Eric's eyes are wide as he shakes his head. "No, no, I shot"—he looks around, visibly shaking when he meets Buck's eyes—"it was just here."
Buck ignores him, turning his attention back to Tommy. "Help is on the way, okay? You probably don't need me to tell you this, but a helicopter's going to be quickest."
Tommy makes a noise that might be laughter, followed by a groan.
"Don't laugh! Oh my god, I'm sorry." He squeezes Tommy's hand and keeps talking, even though Tommy doesn't say much in return, he stays mostly conscious at least.
Buck rides in the helicopter with Tommy and he stays at the hospital during his surgery and is there at his bedside when he wakes.
Tommy's voice is rough from disuse when he tells Buck he didn't need to stay.
Buck frowns. "Of course I did. Is—is there anyone I can call for you?"
Tommy seems to think about it for only a few seconds before he shakes his head.
"You can stay with me."
"That's—I can't ask—"
"You're not. I'm offering. Just until you get back on your feet. Five years is a long time to be away."
"As long as I'm not putting you out."
"You're not, I promise. Besides, I have a lot of questions."
Tommy laughs, but it quickly turns into a groan. He shrugs off Buck's concerned look. "I'm fine."
Buck squeezes Tommy's hand. "Then what do you say, we get you home?"
let's go back to a simpler time, when we were all thinking about what might happen after their coffee date.
this was originally intended to be a prequel to my fic dance with me (I want my arms around you) and at least twice as long, but the second half has been fighting me for months so I figured I'd just share what I have.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, great.”
~~~
Evan insists on throwing away the coffee he’d gotten for Tommy and buying him a new one, one he’ll actually enjoy, which is both wholly unnecessary – Tommy has drunk a lot of subpar coffee over the years – and very endearing.
“Let me treat you to something. Please,” Evan says, and he’s so sweet, so sincere, that Tommy relents. Tells him his coffee order – not that it was some big secret – and accepts the replacement cup with a smile. And if their hands brush, when Evan hands it over, and if Tommy lets their fingers linger against each other, well. That’s fine. That’s more than fine.
They talk for the better part of an hour, about everything and nothing: people they both know in the department; the crazy calls they’ve responded to, and the handful they realize they may have been working from opposite sides over the years; shows they’ve been watching and books they’ve been reading. Tommy is strangely delighted to learn that Evan is more of a reader than a watcher – that when they get on the subject of murder mysteries, he knows all about Agatha Christie’s mysterious disappearance in 1926, but takes a minute to remember what Law & Order is. It makes Tommy feel like maybe the ten years’ age difference isn’t such a big gap after all.
Evan doesn’t stop smiling the entire time.
When their coffee cups are empty he glances down at his hands. He’s still smiling, but he looks a little nervous all of a sudden.
“So, uh, what are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?” he asks. “Because th-there’s this farmer’s market a couple of blocks over, I was thinking about swinging through? If you wanted to check it out?”
Tommy’s sure his grin back is almost embarrassing in its enthusiasm. He gently lays a hand on top of one of Evan’s, a mirror of their earlier touch.
“I’ve got some time,” he says. “Let’s go.”
The farmer’s market is almost painfully charming. The coffee shop Evan had chosen, despite the bougie LA vibes of the patio, was a real hometown neighborhood kind of place, and the market is no different. There are local bakeries and sandwich shops with booths; abuelas selling pickles on card tables and a church selling honey from the beehives that apparently surround their community garden. There’s a kid with an honest-to-god lemonade stand.
It’s absolutely delightful. Evan flits from booth to table, utterly in his element, making friends with kids and abuelas alike. He buys a jar of local honey and one of pickled kohlrabi – a vegetable Tommy is fairly sure he had a vague idea was a real thing that exists – and lingers in front of a display of romanesco broccoli for a while with a speculative look that’s starting to make Tommy almost apprehensive, before something else grabs his attention and he’s moving down the row, asking questions about someone’s backyard flock of chickens.
Tommy learns a lot about Evan in the hour they spend wandering the market. He hears a lot about his cooking adventures, of course; Evan is cheerfully unembarrassed about how disastrous some of his kitchen experiments have been, but seems to genuinely treat everything as a learning experience. He hears a lot about the other members of the 118, especially Captain Nash, and starts to form a picture of just how fundamentally things have changed there since he transferred out.
He’s so glad, in wistful kind of way, that the satisfaction and support Evan clearly gets from his work and his firehouse family was never quashed by questionable leadership. He wonders what things would have been like for him, if he’d had someone like Bobby Nash in his corner from the beginning, like Evan has. If he’d be as joyful, as unselfconscious.
If he’d have been able, like Evan, to grab a man he was interested by the elbow to excitedly point out someone selling fresh donuts from a cart on the corner, and slide his hand down his forearm, and tangle their fingers together in order to tug him down the street.
Tommy looks down at where their hands are interlaced. Big hands, firefighters’ hands; calloused and scarred and hairy. At first he thinks Evan hasn’t even noticed what he’s done, and then he looks back up and catches those blue eyes, the hint of a smile in them. Then Evan squeezes his hand and raises it deliberately, just a little, just enough that the message is clear: Yes, I’m doing this on purpose. Yes, I like you. I want to hold your hand and buy you donuts and make you smile in this perfect sunshine.
Tommy is beginning to realize that he might be in the best kind of trouble.
They do get the donuts, which are made by an ingenious and frankly hypnotizing little contraption that squirts out perfect circles of dough, floats them down a river of hot oil, and automatically flips them, at which point the vendor scoops them out, sprinkles them with cinnamon sugar, and hands them over in a paper bag, piping hot.
Eventually, Tommy glances regretfully at his watch.
“I hate to say this, but I’ve got an appointment at 4:00, so I should probably get going.”
“Oh, no worries!” If Evan’s disappointed, he doesn’t let it show in the tone of his voice, or in his smile as they turn to head back to where their cars are parked.
“Hey, uh, before you go.” Evan ducks his head and looks up through his eyelashes with that shy smile he has that absolutely slices through every one of Tommy’s defenses like a hot knife through butter.
Tommy’s pretty sure Evan genuinely had no idea how sweetly flirtatious he’d looked the first couple of times he’d aimed that smile in Tommy’s direction – but he might be catching up, if the way he slouches back invitingly against the door of his Jeep is any indication. They’re standing so close together that Tommy can get just a whiff of some kind of herbal-smelling aftershave or cologne that Evan is wearing.
“Before I go?” Tommy prompts.
“Just, real quick,” Evan says, and hooks one finger between the buttons of Tommy’s henley, and tugs him gently into a kiss.
Sweet, is all Tommy has time to think before his eyes flutter closed and he’s leaning in, one hand still in his hoodie pocket and the other coming to rest on Evan’s hip. God, he’s sweet.
The kiss is gentle. Soft. Just lips, and their noses barely brushing together, and the sounds of birdsong and traffic in the background. Tommy pulls back to take a breath and Evan is beaming at him, eyes so bright and blue that Tommy can’t help but lean in and kiss him again.
And okay, maybe this kiss is pushing the boundaries of what’s appropriate for a coffee shop parking lot, because it only takes about half a second before Evan’s tongue is teasing at Tommy’s bottom lip, and then Tommy learns that Evan’s mouth tastes like coffee, and like the donuts they’d shared.
It’s their third kiss, technically, and Tommy realizes he already can’t wait to find out what Evan’s mouth tastes like on their fourth kiss, and on their fifth. He can’t wait to lose track of the number of kisses he’s shared with this man, who is earnest and kind and who flexes one hand against Tommy’s chest like he wants to dig his fingers in and stay there. Who chases after Tommy’s mouth when he pulls back to breathe again, who makes the tiniest little noise of disgruntlement, of longing, when they separate.
For a heartbeat they just look at each other. Then:
“Wow,” Evan says, mostly under his breath, and clears his throat, and smiles like the sun. “I, uh. I really like kissing you.”
“Well, that’s good,” Tommy says. “Because I really like kissing you, too.”
“Good. That is good.” Evan grins at him. “You know, it’s – it’s kind of stupid, but after I fumbled our first date I just kept thinking, ‘Damn, I didn’t even get the chance to kiss him again.’ So, uh, thanks for giving me another chance.”
“Thanks for asking for one, Evan,” Tommy says.
For another several heartbeats they just look at each other, and look some more. Tommy can feel the smile blooming across his face, and he knows he must look like a fool, and he cannot bring himself to care.
“I really do need to get going,” he says after a minute.
“Yeah! Yeah, don’t let me keep you,” Evan says. Keep me, Tommy thinks. “What are you up to for the rest of the week? I mean, do you want to get together again before the wedding? I’m throwing Chim a bachelor party, you definitely should come to that at least.”
“Got a long run of shifts coming up,” Tommy says. “One of our guys is out on parental leave, so I’m pulling overtime. But text me. We’ll figure something out.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll text you.” Evan’s smile is so wide that his dimples look deep enough to swim in.
Tommy can’t help himself. He darts back in for one more swift peck, but ends up mostly missing Evan’s lips and clumsily kissing the corner of his mouth instead. It doesn’t even matter. They’re both smiling so hard it wouldn’t have been much of a kiss anyway.
He manages to restrain himself and only glances over his shoulder at Evan once as he walks across the parking lot to his truck.
Okay. Maybe twice.
Twenty minutes later, he’s halfway to his appointment – only running a little late – when his phone chimes where he tossed it on the passenger seat.
He picks it up after he’s parked. Three texts from Evan Buckley.
so is it too soon to text u or…?
I had a really great time today
I’ll be thinking about you all day, hope that’s ok
Tommy smiles to himself, alone in his car. It takes him a minute to figure out what he wants to write back, but eventually he taps out:
Me too. And that’s more than okay. In fact the feeling is mutual ;)
He should feel embarrassed; he’s really not a smiley face kind of guy. But when Evan texts back a simple :D about two seconds later, he’s pretty sure he’s floating on air as he jumps out of his truck and shoves his keys in his pocket.
personally I find much delight in the fact that history knows Steve as this master strategist, the original Man with a Plan - and like he's good at that shit, you know, he'll think things through, he'll share with the team, he'll listen to other people's input - except for when Bucky is involved. then all planning goes out the window. the extent of his strategy? he's gotta get moving and he's gotta get moving NOW. what is he going to do about the Obstacles on his path, you ask?? don't know, don't care. all he sees is the Bucky at the end of the tunnel.
Steve's foolproof master plan:
step 1: FIND BUCKY
step 2: ????
step 3: ???
step 4: ?¿??? there were other steps? really??
step 5: BUCKY SAFE YES GOOD
the best part is, he may have no idea wtf he's even doing, but he's unstoppable either way. because this is Bucky (!!!). legit just railroading his way through this shit until he gets where he needs to get. (to Bucky!!!). idk, I just think it's beautiful how Bucky is at once Steve's greatest weakness, the catalyst for Steve's most dangerous and impulsive decisions, the one thing that'll render Steve completely vulnerable in the most intimate ways, and also the one and only thing that'll make Steve go absolutely fucking berserk at a moment's notice. truly poetic cinema imho.
Time for some more rambling. I’m not sure if this is something that’s already been touched on in the fandom, but I was rewatching the The First Avenger recently and I’m pretty sure the train was set up by Hydra to be a trap for Bucky…
Let’s start by looking at the scene where Steve rescues Bucky from the Hydra munitions factory. When Schmidt sees that Captain America has infiltrated the facility, he sets the building to destruct. Zola sees what Schmidt is doing and he freaks the hell out.
Now, Zola is normally a groveling worm when it comes to Schmidt. He knows better than to stand up to him; but there’s something that tips him over the edge here–if just for a second.
We already know there are a handful of other munitions factories across Europe (which is part of the reason Schmidt can be so casual about blowing up this one). Wanting to save the weapons might be part of Zola’s reaction here, but that really isn’t reason enough for him to risk Schmidt’s anger (which can be deadly). At this point in time, there’s nothing in the factory they can’t afford to lose.
Except for Bucky.
Sergeant Barnes is the first one to show signs he might survive his stint in the isolation ward. He’s the first one to show signs that he might be responding to Zola’s attempts to create his own super soldier. That research is only located in one place, and Schmidt is about to send Zola’s breakthrough up in flames. The moment Zola realizes he can’t stop Schmidt, he makes a break for the lab to try to rescue his notes. Of course there’s no way he can carry Bucky out of there, so he has to make do with what he can get.
In a painful twist of fate, Steve does Zola a favor by saving Bucky.
Take a look at this standoff on the scaffold. Here the audience is meant to focus on Steve and Schmidt going head-to-head for the first time; but pay attention to Bucky and Zola. This is their standoff, too. Follow their line of sight. They’re not looking at Steve and/or Schmidt through most of this scene. They’re looking at each other, and you can almost see the realization on Zola’s face that his experiment might just be saved.
Don’t you dare look at Bucky like that, you asshole.
Also, can I just point out the look on Bucky’s face when he spots Zola?
If looks could kill.
Not to mention his face when he sees what Schmidt looks like under the mask. Sure, Bucky’s line asking Steve if he has “one of those” is meant to be a joke for the audience; but I think Bucky’s experience as a character is a lot different from our experience outside the fourth wall. He’s genuinely scared–for Steve, for himself. You can see the trace of tears in his eyes.
Bucky knows something awful has been done to him at the hands of Hydra, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to lose his humanity, too.
Jump ahead and Captain America and the Howling Commandos are now laying waste to anything and everything Hydra. Things are looking bad for our villains.
This is an interesting line, because the movie doesn’t exactly tell us what Zola’s mission is. Maybe we’re supposed to think his mission is to make sure the weapons are finished in time to meet Schmidt’s timeline for world domination. Or maybe it’s to kill Captain America. And maybe those things are part of his job, but as Zola himself says, “I merely develop the weapons. I cannot fire them.” His primary job is research and development, not tactical planning and defense.
Now that Hydra is up against a super soldier, it’s likely that Schmidt is anxious to get his own super soldiers into combat. The easiest and fastest way to complete that research, of course, is to retrieve Sergeant Barnes. (In theory, Zola could use Steve for experimentation if he caught him; but he would have to start the experiment from scratch. Peggy made it clear earlier in the film that it would take them years to find out the formula using Steve’s blood. Chances are good the same would apply to Zola. The work on Bucky is already underway, it’s Zola’s own handy work, and Bucky’s still weak enough to be an easy catch compared to Steve.)
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that, directly after Schmidt gives Zola the ultimatum to “finish his mission,” we cut to the Howling Commandos laying in wait for the train. They’re hoping to catch Zola, whose location has somehow been leaked, and it quickly becomes clear that the scummy doctor hasn’t been caught by surprise. In fact, everything indicates that Zola was the one laying in wait for them. He’s surveilling the entire train from a command center and issuing orders to strategically placed Hydra soldiers.
When Steve and Bucky board the car, Zola deliberately separates them.
Divide and conquer is a tried and true tactic, but look at the difference in the opponents sent after them. Steve is given a huge opponent armed to the back teeth with a Tesseract energy gun. But Bucky? Bucky faces off against one traditionally-armed guard. (EDIT: In a subsequent viewing I noticed he actually faces off against two guards, but the second one is barely seen and is removed from the equation fairly quickly.)
Why wasn’t that guard given an energy weapon too? My guess would be because Zola didn’t want his guinea pig harmed too badly. Bullet wounds can heal, but disintegration is forever.
It might also be telling that when Steve and Bucky are back in the same compartment together, Zola screams “kill him” not “kill them.” It’s up for debate who Zola meant for the guard to target; but since he was initially sent after Steve, it’s my assumption that’s who Zola meant for him to shoot.
As we all know, the plan goes horribly awry on both sides and Bucky falls to his seeming death. Zola is captured and, when Colonel Philips tells him that “the last guy you cost us was Captain Roger’s closest friend,” Zola barely acknowledges it with a creeptacular grin.
He knows. He knows whatever he did to Bucky would keep him alive. And, as it turns out, even as a captive Zola will gain the means to finish his little experiment.
Time for some more rambling. I’m not sure if this is something that’s already been touched on in the fandom, but I was rewatching the The First Avenger recently and I’m pretty sure the train was set up by Hydra to be a trap for Bucky…
Let’s start by looking at the scene where Steve rescues Bucky from the Hydra munitions factory. When Schmidt sees that Captain America has infiltrated the facility, he sets the building to destruct. Zola sees what Schmidt is doing and he freaks the hell out.
Now, Zola is normally a groveling worm when it comes to Schmidt. He knows better than to stand up to him; but there’s something that tips him over the edge here–if just for a second.
We already know there are a handful of other munitions factories across Europe (which is part of the reason Schmidt can be so casual about blowing up this one). Wanting to save the weapons might be part of Zola’s reaction here, but that really isn’t reason enough for him to risk Schmidt’s anger (which can be deadly). At this point in time, there’s nothing in the factory they can’t afford to lose.
Except for Bucky.
Sergeant Barnes is the first one to show signs he might survive his stint in the isolation ward. He’s the first one to show signs that he might be responding to Zola’s attempts to create his own super soldier. That research is only located in one place, and Schmidt is about to send Zola’s breakthrough up in flames. The moment Zola realizes he can’t stop Schmidt, he makes a break for the lab to try to rescue his notes. Of course there’s no way he can carry Bucky out of there, so he has to make do with what he can get.
In a painful twist of fate, Steve does Zola a favor by saving Bucky.
Take a look at this standoff on the scaffold. Here the audience is meant to focus on Steve and Schmidt going head-to-head for the first time; but pay attention to Bucky and Zola. This is their standoff, too. Follow their line of sight. They’re not looking at Steve and/or Schmidt through most of this scene. They’re looking at each other, and you can almost see the realization on Zola’s face that his experiment might just be saved.
Don’t you dare look at Bucky like that, you asshole.
Also, can I just point out the look on Bucky’s face when he spots Zola?
If looks could kill.
Not to mention his face when he sees what Schmidt looks like under the mask. Sure, Bucky’s line asking Steve if he has “one of those” is meant to be a joke for the audience; but I think Bucky’s experience as a character is a lot different from our experience outside the fourth wall. He’s genuinely scared–for Steve, for himself. You can see the trace of tears in his eyes.
Bucky knows something awful has been done to him at the hands of Hydra, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to lose his humanity, too.
Jump ahead and Captain America and the Howling Commandos are now laying waste to anything and everything Hydra. Things are looking bad for our villains.
This is an interesting line, because the movie doesn’t exactly tell us what Zola’s mission is. Maybe we’re supposed to think his mission is to make sure the weapons are finished in time to meet Schmidt’s timeline for world domination. Or maybe it’s to kill Captain America. And maybe those things are part of his job, but as Zola himself says, “I merely develop the weapons. I cannot fire them.” His primary job is research and development, not tactical planning and defense.
Now that Hydra is up against a super soldier, it’s likely that Schmidt is anxious to get his own super soldiers into combat. The easiest and fastest way to complete that research, of course, is to retrieve Sergeant Barnes. (In theory, Zola could use Steve for experimentation if he caught him; but he would have to start the experiment from scratch. Peggy made it clear earlier in the film that it would take them years to find out the formula using Steve’s blood. Chances are good the same would apply to Zola. The work on Bucky is already underway, it’s Zola’s own handy work, and Bucky’s still weak enough to be an easy catch compared to Steve.)
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that, directly after Schmidt gives Zola the ultimatum to “finish his mission,” we cut to the Howling Commandos laying in wait for the train. They’re hoping to catch Zola, whose location has somehow been leaked, and it quickly becomes clear that the scummy doctor hasn’t been caught by surprise. In fact, everything indicates that Zola was the one laying in wait for them. He’s surveilling the entire train from a command center and issuing orders to strategically placed Hydra soldiers.
When Steve and Bucky board the car, Zola deliberately separates them.
Divide and conquer is a tried and true tactic, but look at the difference in the opponents sent after them. Steve is given a huge opponent armed to the back teeth with a Tesseract energy gun. But Bucky? Bucky faces off against one traditionally-armed guard. (EDIT: In a subsequent viewing I noticed he actually faces off against two guards, but the second one is barely seen and is removed from the equation fairly quickly.)
Why wasn’t that guard given an energy weapon too? My guess would be because Zola didn’t want his guinea pig harmed too badly. Bullet wounds can heal, but disintegration is forever.
It might also be telling that when Steve and Bucky are back in the same compartment together, Zola screams “kill him” not “kill them.” It’s up for debate who Zola meant for the guard to target; but since he was initially sent after Steve, it’s my assumption that’s who Zola meant for him to shoot.
As we all know, the plan goes horribly awry on both sides and Bucky falls to his seeming death. Zola is captured and, when Colonel Philips tells him that “the last guy you cost us was Captain Roger’s closest friend,” Zola barely acknowledges it with a creeptacular grin.
He knows. He knows whatever he did to Bucky would keep him alive. And, as it turns out, even as a captive Zola will gain the means to finish his little experiment.
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