Hi there! I’m kore. This is my 9-1-1-verse side blog, my main is over at @korevah . My AO3 is also korevah, and I post most of my finished writing there.
I love Carlos first and foremost, but also have a lot of love for TK, Nancy, Grace, Buck, Tommy, and May 🥰
My writing is tagged #kore writes, both on my main and here, and my make me write prompts are always open (you can prompt here too, the make me write is just on my main so i only have one to maintain)!
The art for this post is a commission from the incredible @bigfootsmom - check them out! (rebloggable version of the art is here!)
Hiii Kore! I'm sorry for how long this took me! But I hope I can make up for it with you with some mpreg fluff? Here we goo:
- "I could really use a hug right now."
Tommy is approaching his thirty-fifth week of pregnancy and, to be honest, he has never been more over anything in his life. Doesn't help that Lucca is bigger than the average baby (not surprising considering he and Evan are bigger than the average person) and seems adamant about squeezing Tommy's bladder every ten minutes or so. Not to mention the constant heartburn and swollen ankles and the fact his doctor had him move up his paternity leave because his pregnancy is 'geriatric' and, therefore, high-risk.
He hates the term 'geriatric pregnancy', by the way. He and Maddie have commiserated about it often enough.
All in all, he can't wait for this month to end.
It's the third day of his paternity leave, and Tommy is already bored out of his mind. At least it's a Saturday; Evan and Theo are home today, and they have plans to go out to the farmers market later, if Tommy's back doesn't protest it too much. Evan wants to pick up ingredients to make some bread.
Right now, though, Tommy is not thinking about the farmers market. He's thinking about a mid-morning snack, because the little hungry gremlin who's renting a room in his uterus definitely doesn't want to wait until lunch to be fed.
If Tommy had his way, he'd get a chocolate pudding cup. Preferably two cups. With whipped cream on top.
Alas, gestational diabetes doesn't allow him two cups of pudding with whipped cream on top. It's sugar-free strawberry yogurt for him. Yay.
He grabs a cup from the fridge, chuckling as he remembers Theo's face when he tried it. He had exactly one spoonful before his nose scrunched adorably and he handed it back to Tommy like it had personally offended him, asking Evan if he could have a Go-Gurt tube instead.
For Tommy, though, it's the closest he can get to a real sweet treat until Lucca is born. Evan has also been baking some sugar-free desserts for him, and Tommy loves him desperately for it, but right now, the sad little strawberry yogurt will have to do.
It's when Tommy reaches for a spoon that the disaster strikes.
It's the only spoon in the drawer, because of course it is. Theo uses approximately seven spoons per day, and Evan about half a dozen. So, right now, all the others are in the dishwasher that is peacefully running its cycle.
Naturally, Tommy drops it on the floor.
It falls with a very insulting and snarky metallic clang. Tommy thinks he can faintly hear a 'hah, sucker!', but it must have been his imagination.
Well.
Bending down to pick it up is definitely not a possibility. Tommy can't even get out of the couch on his own these days. If he tries to crouch, the most likely outcome is falling down on his butt, and then good luck on getting back up without having to yell for his boyfriend and admit that gravity has officially defeated him. Him, a pilot. How unfair.
It's no big deal; Tommy knows that rationally. It stands to reason that a heavily pregnant person can't bend down to pick something up from the floor.
But it's the proverbial last straw. Or last spoon, more accurately.
"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!", he exclaims, not loud enough to be picked up by the little ears on the second floor.
But apparently loud enough to be picked up by Evan in the garden.
"Tommy?!", Evan rushes through the kitchen door, hastily wiping his dirt-covered hands on his jeans and looking at Tommy with concern. "Something wrong? Is it Lucca?"
Tommy looks down at the spoon again, and then back up at Evan, and as much as he tries to deny it, he knows he's pouting. Pouting. How the mighty have fallen.
"…I dropped a spoon", he grumbles.
To Evan's credit, he tries not to laugh. Tommy can see the corners of his mouth twitching, but he bravely reins it in.
"Oh, sweetheart,", Evan says, and Tommy doesn't think he quite grasped the scope of the problem.
"The only clean spoon", Tommy clarifies, and Evan nods.
"That sounds very frustrating", Evan says, and Tommy feels a rush of affection and gratitude for this man, because yes, yes,thank you, it's very frustrating. "How can I help?"
The fact that Evan is asking instead of just barging into the kitchen and picking up the spoon from the floor makes Tommy love him even more, if possible.
He could never be vulnerable with anyone like he's learning to be with Evan.
"I could really use a hug right now", Tommy admits, because he knows the admission has a soft place to land.
Evan's whole face softens. "Oh, sweetheart", he says, impossibly fond, and crosses the kitchen in two steps on those long legs of his, pulling Tommy into his arms like he's precious. "You're having a hard time these past few days, huh?"
"Yeah", Tommy sniffles, resting his head on Evan's shoulder. "I already love Lucca so much, and I don't regret any of it for a second, but… It's been tough"
"I know", Evan says, and presses a gentle kiss to Tommy's forehead. "And I don't say this enough, but I appreciate what you're doing so much. I wish I could help more. I wish I could carry Lucca for you"
Tommy chuckles weakly against Evan's shoulder. "I'll remind you of that when it's time for the next one", he tells him, and Evan raises an eyebrow.
"Next one?"
"Only if you carry them", Tommy clarifies.
"I'll take that deal", Evan agrees, and then presses a kiss to Tommy's forehead. They haven't stopped hugging.
They stay like that for a bit, in silence, and Lucca chooses that moment to press a small kick to Tommy's bump. He smiles, stroking it gently. Pregnancy hasn't exactly been fun lately, but getting to feel his son inside him is something Tommy will never take for granted.
"Oh, look who wants in on the hug", he jokes, and Evan looks down as well, delighted. He holds his hand above Tommy's bump, a silent request, and Tommy nods.
"Hi, Lucca", Evan coos, gently stroking Tommy's bump with his thumb. "You wanted to comfort Papa as well?"
"What's Lucca doing?!", Theo's excited voice comes from the stairs, and he rushes to them in his socked feet. "Is he kicking?! Can I feel it?!"
He looks up at both of them expectantly, and Tommy and Evan exchange an amused look. Theo has been very invested in every moment of Tommy's pregnancy, delighted at the idea of a baby.
"Course you can, buddy", Tommy says, gently placing Theo's hand next to Evan's over his belly. "Talk to him a bit; he knows your voice"
"Hi, Lucca!", Theo greets happily, a toothy grin on his face. "I can't wait for you to be out here. I know at first you're just gonna cry and sleep lots, 'cause my friend Mike has a baby brother and he says that's all babies do, but then you'll grow a bit, and I can teach you how to play with dinosaurs, and we can play together!"
Lucca kicks again, a bit stronger, and Theo gasps excitedly. Tommy finds it adorable that, no matter how many times Theo feels Lucca kick, he's always as excited as if it was the first time.
"He did it! He answered, Tommy! Buck, Lucca said hi to me!", he tells them, and Tommy can see Evan choking up.
"He did, buddy", he whispers, running a gentle hand over Theo's hair.
"I think he wants a hug! Can I hug him, Tommy?", he asks, and how on Earth could Tommy ever say no?
"Yeah, Theo. Lucca and I could both really use a Theo hug right now."
Theo doesn't need to hear it twice. He wraps his little arms as far as they'll go around Tommy's middle, and presses his head gently against the bump, cheek rubbing against Tommy's T-shirt. Lucca gives another gentle kick.
"He's hugging me back!"
"I think he's saying we need a family hug", Evan says, his voice a little hoarse.
Tommy looks up, and there's a small smile on his boyfriend's face. Evan wraps his arms around Tommy again, carefully making sure Theo is tucked in between them, cheek still pressed against Lucca.
His family, Tommy thinks delightedly, resting his head against Evan's shoulder. He'll take all the heartburn and back pain in the world if this is the reward.
"Okay, wow. That was close." + bucktommy please cap 🙏
Ahhh thank you for the prompt! ❣️😘 Hope you like it!
If Tommy believed in signs from the universe, running into Evan in a bar again was maybe his cue to stop drinking. Or start drinking at home. Or… something. Because this was ridiculous.
No. Ridiculous was Evan's life in the last year or so. And there was something about the way his eyes shifted away and his grip on his beer got a little tighter at several points that said there was even more to the story.
Evan, who had always let his words pour out like Tommy had twisted off the handle, was now self-censoring himself to little more than a trickle.
It was concerning. It made Tommy want to dig, find the splinters that were going to start festering inside him, pull them out before they could turn Evan… well, into him. That was the worst thing Tommy could imagine: open, eager, adorable Evan turning into some sort of Tommy Kinard.
But that wasn't his place. He'd walked away from the job then been reminded the position was better unfilled than with him in it. And maybe that was the first sign, really. Because hadn't that been just the sort of thing he'd say?
Still. He bought another round and hoped Evan might open up a little more, might show the edge of one of those splinters so Tommy could… what? Swoop in with tweezers and pull it loose? Patch him up and kiss it better? Since when did he think he could offer something helpful to Evan that didn't involve access to a helicopter?
And it really didn't help that he'd just thought the phrase ‘kiss it better.’ He already knew his gaze kept dropping to Evan's plush mouth. That didn't mean he was going to make himself a bigger fool than he already had. At some point in his life he'd actually learned a lesson or two. Too bad none of them included getting the hell over Evan Buckley.
So Tommy drank his beer and tried to listen without watching Evan's mouth and letting his internal monologue spin off from ‘what if?’ into ‘why not?’
He did a passable job of it. He managed to tell a few stories about interesting rescues. Kept his eyes on Evan's eyes, not that they were less devastating than his mouth but at least they were the socially accepted place to focus for a guy who'd been firmly moved into the ‘ex’ column.
And then it all fell apart as they stood to leave. Evan was untangling those ridiculously long legs from the rungs of the bar stool and Tommy's hand automatically went to his forearm to steady him.
Which wasn't so bad. That could be a friendly gesture.
But then Evan looked up at him. Tommy's body shifted into autopilot (a thing he didn't even use!) and leaned in, hand still on Evan's arm as his mouth came just millimeters from Evan's.
Tommy jerked back and pasted a smile on his face. “Okay, wow. That was close.” He turned his steadying hold on Evan's arm into an awkward pat and then reached for his wallet. “Sorry about that, habit I guess. I'll take care of the tab. See you around-”
“See me around, Buck?” Evan asked.
Tommy stared at his wallet like pulling out his credit card took monumental concentration. Finally, he slipped the card loose and dropped it on the bar.
Then he looked up at Evan who was staring at him with a sort of wary anger, like it wasn't boiling over just yet but the first bubbles of it were there.
“No,” Tommy answered softly. Too softly, probably, for the bar they were in. “No,” he repeated more audibly. “I'm sorry.”
“What part are you sorry for?” Evan pushed, stepping closer. “C-calling me Buck? Almost… almost kissing me? Or…?”
Tommy's shoulders sagged. “Take your pick, Evan. All of it. I'm sorry for all of it.”
“Y-yeah? Well I'm not. I'm not sorry for what we had, Tommy. I'm not… not sorry for-”
It wasn't autopilot. It wasn't smart. It was deliberate and risky and honestly just stupid but it stopped Evan's winding up rant and it hopefully put paid to any wrong idea Evan had about Tommy's apology being for there ever having been a them.
He closed the small distance Evan had left between them and found his mouth.
It should have been awkward or weird or otherwise wrong. But it wasn't. It was almost as good as that first kiss, the risky gamble Tommy had taken not knowing if Evan was going to freak out or punch him or what.
So, just like that kiss really.
Tommy stepped back. “I'm sorry for a lot of things, Evan. But not that. What we had was one of the best things in my life. I'll never be sorry for that.”
“Then why?”
“Why…?”
“Why aren't we… us?” Evan's eyes glistened, the neon lights behind the bar seeming to catch there. “I wanted us to be.”
It punched the air from Tommy's lungs. “I wanted us to be, too. I… guess we just couldn't seem to want it at the same time.”
Evan turned back to the bar and grabbed his beer, draining the last of it before clunking it back down too hard on the bar. “Yeah. W-wanting me’s a temporary condition.”
Tommy grabbed Evan's arm again, his grip tight as he turned Evan back to face him. “No, it's not. Not for me it's not. Think whatever else you want about me and it's probably true. But I don't think there'll ever be a moment in my life when I'm safe from wanting you.”
And then Evan was kissing him. And not just kissing him, kissing him like Tommy was every good and perfect thing he'd ever wanted, like Tommy was special, like maybe, just maybe, Evan wanted him too.
Then he pulled away and Tommy had to grab the bar edge to keep from stumbling into his bar stool on suddenly shaky legs.
“Three beers,” Evan said.
“What?”
“I've only had three beers and we were here talking for hours.”
“Okay?”
“I'm not drunk. I'm not being stupid, impulsive Buck. I'm not Bucking up again.”
“I didn't think - wouldn't think that,” Tommy answered, still feeling off-kilter and unsteady.
“Come home with me. Or I'll come home with you. And we'll do Saturday and all the Saturdays and we won't… we won't keep letting ourselves…” Evan faltered. “If you meant it, I mean. If you-”
“I do. I mean it. I've never meant anything more.”
“Yeah?” And there was that sunshine smile Tommy remembered, the unclouded one that could melt every icy wall Tommy could throw between them. As long as he kept looking at it; as long as he didn't turn and walk away.
He took Evan's hand. “Yeah.”
“Hey. Do… do you have a shift tomorrow?”
Brushing his thumb along Evan's finger, Tommy shook his head. “Nope. I'm off for the next two days.”
“Me too.”
Tommy had to briefly take his hand back to sign the bill and put his credit card away but then Evan caught it again.
And held it as they walked to the door.
Together.
(Prompt from this list of you want to send me one to make about Buck and Tommy!)
He got out of bed and chugged as much water as he could, without throwing up, before contemplating what to do. Eddie would make fun of him, but he would probably do that anyway.
”There's a new contact in my phone, do you have any idea who it is?”
Eddie laughed so hard, Buck had to pull the phone away from his ear. ”Oh, man, I forgot about that.”
”Do you remember him?”
”Not really. He was tall.”
Tall. That wasn't exactly helpful. ”You remember his name? It was a guy, right?”
”Did he not put his name in?”
”Uh, no. He's saved as boyfriend.” That set Eddie off again. ”You know what, I'll call Ravi.”
”Ravi will know,” Eddie said, still laughing. Ravi definitely knew who Boyfriend was, but calling Ravi also came with a spiel about responsible alcohol consumption.
Buck did not call Ravi. He took a deep breath and called Boyfriend.
”Go for Kinard.”
Oh, shit. That was more professional sounding than he expected. Christ. Hopefully he hadn't met a tradesperson in the line to the bathroom again.
”Hi! So, this is gonna sound crazy, but did you give your number to me last night?”
”… Evan?”
”That is my name, yes. What's yours? Other than Kinard. I'm assuming Kinard is your last name. It sounds like a last name.”
”I put it in your phone.”
Fuck. OK. ”Right. I mean, that makes sense, but I must have changed it. Because it doesn't say that.”
”Uh-huh,” Boyfriend said. ”What's it say, then?”
Buck cringed. ”It-it says boyfriend. Just boyfriend.”
”Oh, so you deleted all of it.”
”I guess, yeah. What's your name?”
Boyfriend snickered. ”You know what, I think this is more fun.”
”What? No.”
”For me, it is.”
”Are you seriously gonna leave me hanging like that?”
”Oh, absolutely.”
His hangover wasn't too happy about it, but he heard himself asking, ”Can I buy you a drink? A coffee drink. Coffee. Can I buy you a coffee?”
”Yes, you can.”
*
Buck looked around the patio. He had no idea what he was looking for. Eddie said tall, but everyone was sitting. A guy came up and stood at his shoulder, but he also seemed to be looking for someone, so he didn't ask. The guy found who he was looking for and went to sit down. As Buck tracked him with his eyes, he saw someone straighten in their seat.
He walked over and asked, ”Boyfriend?”
”Hi, baby.”
Buck felt himself physically cringe. And maybe squirm a little. ”Please tell me I didn't call you that.”
”I mean,” Boyfriend tilted his head. ”I did ask you to. Sort of.”
Buck pulled out a chair and sat down, so he could hunch his shoulders more effectively. ”Whatever I did last night, I'm – I'm so sorry.”
”You think you did something bad?” he smiled.
”It wouldn't be out of character.”
Boyfriend took mercy on him. He crossed his arms on the table and leaned in, voice lowered, ”You helped me out of a tight spot. Nothing nefarious, I assure you.”
”And w-what spot was that?”
”Had a very … tenacious suitor.” Buck looked at him blankly. ”You pretended to be my boyfriend, to get him to leave me alone. Which I asked you to do, to be clear.”
Buck deflated into the table top and exhaled deeply. ”OK, I can live with that.”
Boyfriend smiled. ”You bought me a drink and introduced me to your friends. You were the perfect gentleman.”
”Why did I ask for your number? Did I say?”
”I believe you wanted to hang out? Couldn't get a read on the implications there. You smile a lot.”
Oh, no. Oh, no. Boyfriend. Boyfriend was gay – or at the very least into men. ”I am so sorry. I mean, thank you! That's nice of you to say, but I am so sorry.”
”About what?”
”Just – the whole thing.”
”Apology accepted?”
There was a cup on the table, so Boyfriend already got one for himself. ”Can I get you anything? Pastry? Another coffee?”
”If you want to, sure.”
Buck got up from the table. ”I'll get you a pastry. Be right back. Don't leave.”
Boyfriend had a great smile, holy shit. Buck could feel the back of his neck getting warm. While waiting in line, he tried to calm down. Buck was flustered, but he couldn't tell why. He didn't do anything wrong, as far as Boyfriend said, and he was being polite.
He got a coffee for himself, and the most expensive pastry in the case. He couldn't stomach anything solid for himself.
He really did look like a boyfriend. He lit up at the sight of the pastry. ”Thank you.”
Buck wondered what he'd been wearing last night. Boyfriend was in casual clothes now, which he was wearing the hell out of, but if he'd been dressed up, he must have looked incredible.
”Did you have a good time? With us?”
”I had a great time,” Boyfriend said. ”Clubs aren't really my thing, but your friends are fun, so it was better than it usually is.”
”Did you go home with anyone?” Buck didn't know why he asked, but he waited with bated breath for the answer.
He had a curious look on his face. ”I didn't.”
Buck sipped his too hot coffee, to give himself time to come up with a fix. ”It's just, we usually wingman for each other. M-maybe we did that for you?”
”It didn't come up.” Boyfriend brushed a crumb from the corner of his mouth and leaned over the table. ”You were too busy talking to me, I think,” he said and tilted his head.
Buck had to drag his eyes away from Boyfriend's mouth, but it only led him to staring at his hair instead. He had an extremely soft looking curl, just above his hairline. Boyfriend was movie star handsome. Old school movie star. Buck only knew their faces, not their names, but that was the kind of handsome Boyfriend was.
”What did we talk about?”
”Heroics. You're a very busy guy.” Boyfriend's eyes sparkled. He was clearly enjoying that Buck didn't remember a thing.
If he'd talked about work, he had a pretty good idea of what stories he'd been telling. Luckily he was sober at work, so at least he remembered that.
He looked at the breadth of Boyfriend's shoulders, the size of his arms. ”You look pretty heroic yourself.”
Boyfriend's whole face crinkled when he smiled. ”Oh, I am.”
Buck sighed. ”You told me last night, didn't you?”
”I did.”
”Alright,” Buck grabbed the sides of the table and leaned in a little closer, ”what do I have to do for you to tell me?”
”Oh, we're negotiating?” Boyfriend beamed. ”Let me think.”
Buck found himself squirming. Boyfriend's smile was intense.
”We could go for dinner? This weekend? There's this place I've been dying to go to, but I don't want to go alone.”
”I'm free this weekend.”
”Yeah?”
”Yeah,” Buck nodded. ”Dinner sounds good.”
”It's a date.”
Buck swallowed. Dates didn't have to be romantic. He went out to dinner with Eddie sometimes, and that probably counted as a date. Neither one of them called it that, but they could. If they wanted.
This is based on a real conversation I had with some random kiddo while I was jogging in my neighborhood.
+
When Sal's girls were little—before they entered middle school and immediately turned into gremlins who are way too cool to hang out with Uncle Tommy because he doesn't know who Harper Zilmer is and therefore should hang by the neck until dead—Tommy used to take them to the park across the street from their kindergarten. It's the last remaining wooden park in the greater Los Angeles area and has some of the most comfortable benches a human ass has ever sat upon.
Lately he's been trying to fit more cardio into his routine, because Lucy made a comment about him working out so much that his turnouts were starting to look like a wetsuit, and he's taken to running through that particular neighborhood. After he cools down from a run, he gets to catch his breath on one of those comfy-ass benches.
On the second day of his 72-off, he does almost seven miles in under an hour—a personal best—and then rewards himself by heading over to the wooden park so he can drop onto a bench, close his eyes, and lose himself in The Cactus Album. He's halfway through Steppin' to the A.M. when his skin starts prickling. He's being watched.
He cracks one eye open to find a little boy in a Bluey shirt standing practically on top of Tommy's sneakers, staring with wide, oddly familiar blue eyes.
Tommy opens the other eye, then takes out one of his ear buds.
"Uh, can I help you?"
With a grin that pings as oddly familiar, the boy lifts his hand to proudly show off the massive splint that has consumed his thumb. "I broke it!"
Tommy blinks. "How'd you do that?"
The kid's grin widens until it's practically splitting his face in two. If he were vibrating any harder, Tommy's phone would surely be blaring an earthquake warning.
"I slammed it in a door! Like this: BAM!" To illustrate, the kid lifts his other hand, which is holding some kind of toy, and bashes his palm against it. Then he comically whines and shakes out his hand, hopping from foot to foot. His shoes light up.
"Okay," Tommy says peaceably. "Follow-up question: why'd you do that?"
With a shrug, the boy scratches his nose with the hand holding the toy. "I screamed really loud and-and-and there was blood."
"I bet." Judging by the size of the splint, there was probably a decent amount of wailing too. Arianna, Sal's youngest, once tripped over her own scooter and scraped her knee, and she screeched loud enough to wake the dead. The scrape hadn't even broken the skin. She's definitely got the makings of a theater kid. "Uh, where are your parents?"
"In Heaven with Cap." The boy says it absently, like it's nothing. Probably because all of his attention is on one of those small, white butterflies that seem to be everywhere. It wings by them and goes to inspect some nearby dandelions.
"That sucks. I'm sorry," Tommy murmurs, then scrunches his nose in confusion. "Wait, what's the cap?"
The kid holds up the toy in his hand suddenly. "This is a helicopter! It's mine."
He emphasizes every syllable, even where there shouldn't be any. Hel-i-cop-ter. Muh-ine.
"Your helicopter isn't just any helicopter," Tommy says, taking out his other ear bud and digging out their case from the flipbelt he got in last year's Harbor yankee swap, tucking them in. He sits up a little straighter, then gestures for the kid to hand it over, which the boy does. "That's a Kaman SH-2F Seasprite."
And a pretty accurately designed one, too. Tommy'd ask the kid where he got it, but the answer's probably Santa.
"Whazzat mean?" The kid leans forward, peering at his toy with wide, interested eyes. Seeing it anew.
"These guys were pretty fast." Tommy cuts the Seasprite through the air between them, then swoops it around the kid's head. The boy bursts into giggles and tries to track what is an admittedly insane flightpath. If Tommy were actually flying like this, ATC would think he was having a stroke. "If I remember correctly, they were used for SAR and ASW."
"Whazzat?"
Tommy stifles a laugh. "SAR is search and rescue, and ASW is uh, anti-submarine warfare. So, like, looking for lost people and.... yeah, there's no way to sugarcoat this: blowing up subs."
The kid bounces on his feet. His shoes look like a Berlin electronica festival. "What's a subs?"
"Submarine," Tommy corrects gently. He remembers being that age, learning the lingo, having his world expand a little bit more. Except he learned it all from his Uncle Terry, who fought in Vietnam, had ridiculous PTSD, and ate twelve packs of cigarettes a day. Tommy's hopefully a step or two above that. "It's like a—a submarine is a boat that moves underwater. See this?"
He tilts the helicopter and taps his thumb against one of the Mk 46's hanging off the side. The kid nods, shifting from foot to foot. Blue, red, yellow, purple, green.
"This is a torpedo. I don't think the Seasprites had missiles, but they definitely had these. Now, a torpedo is different from a missile because..."
About 45 minutes later, Tommy's in the middle of the world's worst child-friendly explanation of infrared thermography—pausing every so often so the kid can scream "DOWN SCOPE!" at a decibel only dogs can hear and run around while pretending he's looking through a periscope on a submarine—which he told Tommy wasn't a submarine, but actually some big turtle Pokemon that had guns attached to its back—when a familiar pair of eye-wateringly orange Nikes enters his field of vision.
He looks up and, yep, there it is: the phantasm that haunts his thoughts whenever he allows himself to be alone with them.
It's been a year since Bobby's funeral, and Tommy's spent that time hoping Evan pissed off another dead cowboy and had been turned into a hideous swamp creature, but the universe seems to have gone in the opposite direction. He's a thousand times more gorgeous than Tommy remembers him being.
"Uh, hey," Tommy says intelligently.
He's definitely making this unexpected reunion more awkward by staring, but sue him. You don't shame someone for admiring a Rembrandt.
Evan stares back, eyes wide. "W-Were you just teaching a four-year old about modern warfare?"
After doing a quick mental rewind of the last hour and then glancing at the kid in question—who does appear to be that young—Tommy grimaces. "Uh, that... seems to be the case, yeah."
If it were anyone else, they'd probably start screaming at him, maybe throw hands, before calling the cops, because for all intents and purposes, Tommy is a complete and utter stranger who could've been using that toy helicopter to lure this kid into a rickety old van.
But Evan just stares at him for a few moments, then ducks his head and laughs.
"Did it have to be, like, bombing enemy warships?" Evan puts his hands on his hips. "Couldn't you have talked to him about, I don't know, that movie with the dinosaurs on a cross-country trip?"
"You want me to traumatize this kid with The Land Before Time?" Tommy lifts a hand to clutch his invisible pearls. "It's 10:30 in the morning, Evan. Way too early for sad tree stars."
"Corrupting the youth in your off-time, huh?" Evan asks, smiling.
Tommy can't help but tease back, "Just like my father always said I would."
A look of mortified horror washes over Evan's face. "Oh god, Tommy, that's not what I—"
"I'm just messing with you, Evan," he says, although he's really not.
Good ol' Jim Kinard believes in precisely two things: 1) Knob Creek bourbon is mankind's greatest invention, and 2) gay people were created by Russia to destroy the fabric of Western society and usher in a new world order. He said the second thing usually while chin-deep in the first, which was often.
Evan still looks like he's wishing for the ground to open up and suck him into hell, which Tommy can't let stand, and he opens his mouth to redirect the conversation to something that doesn't make him want to rip his skin off, but the kid beats him to it.
"SERGEANT TOMMY! FIRE THE MISSILES! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"
Both he and Evan turn. Somehow in the last two minutes, the kid's managed to cover himself in grass clippings and is holding what looks like a years-old empty bottle of Pepto Bismol.
"Oh jeez, Theo," Evan says with a fond sigh. "Remember what we do with trash that we find on the ground?"
The kid—Theo, apparently—shakes his head wildly, but he does at least drop the Pepto. "No no no no no! Sergeant Tommy! Fire!"
Evan turns pleading eyes on Tommy, silently beseeching him for help.
Which Tommy can absolutely provide. "Kid, c'mon, I told you: you fire torpedoes from a submarine, not missiles. And you say "shoot" for torpedoes. Saying "fire" might make someone think there's an actual fire on board."
The pleading melts to reveal daggers, all aimed at Tommy's head.
"SHOOT! SHOOT! SHOOT!" Theo howls, bouncing.
"Aye, aye." Tommy salutes, then swings his arm down in an excellent karate chop. "BOOM!"
Shrieking with laughter, Theo runs in the direction of the imaginary torpedo, and Evan watches him like a hawk.
"I'm gonna kill you for this," Evan says serenely.
Tommy follows Theo's path thanks only to his shoes. He's running so fast that he's basically leaving trails of light behind him, like one of the bikes in Akira. When he looks back at Evan, his heart starts pounding. "I was, uh, thinking about hitting up the sandwich shop around the corner. Their breakfast paninis are supposed to be incredible—perfect for a last meal. Maybe you and the kid might want to join me? My treat."
At that, Evan's head whips around and the hopeful lilt to his smile makes some hard thing inside Tommy crumble to sand.
"Y-Yeah?"
Tommy smiles. "Yeah. And maybe you can explain how you managed to hide the fact that you have a kid from me for six months."
"T-That's not—I didn't—it's a very long story," is what Evan settles on, shoulders dropping. His smile, however, doesn't disappear. "He's not my son, but I'm his—it's complicated."
"It always is," Tommy says, then gets to his feet. "Which is terrifying on a level I don't have words to describe, but my secret therapist says I could use some complicated in my life. We'd been kicking around ideas for exposure therapy; I'm pretty sure this qualifies, so."
The grin that splits Evan's lips is so bright that it could rival the California mid-morning sun. Tommy wants to reach out and press his thumb to it to see if it's just as warm. But not yet. Exposure therapy only works if you deliberately ramp it up over time, according to Dr. Chatterjee. And Tommy has to believe him, because otherwise he's paying this guy an exorbitant amount under the table to be lied to.
He'd happily drain his 401k dry if it meant Evan might keep looking at him like this.
"BUCK! BUCK! LOOK WHAT I FOUND!"
Spell broken, they turn in unison to see Theo about ten feet away, holding up what appears to be a baby doll with a pickle jar for a head. Inside, something dark and crimson sloshes around.
"This park has everything," Tommy marvels, before he and Evan take off after him at a run.
They end up getting tacos for lunch at Guisados because the pickle jar contains a human kidney and the cops don't let them go until well after Wichcraft stops selling breakfast for the day.
Which is fine, because he gets to eat a truly life-changing bistek roja while Evan tucks a sneaker against Tommy's and makes eyes at him across the table, and Theo makes a mess of his quesadilla trying to copy the way Tommy eats.
It's not quite how he expected to end today's run, because Guisados' seats aren't nearly as comfy as the park bench, but Tommy's been shelling out the big bucks all these months to learn how to roll with the punches. Seems like it's finally paying off.
Buck's face heats up with embarrassment. That's not what he'd meant to say, not how he meant to greet his ex-boyfriend after not seeing him for over a year. Buck has never been smooth around Tommy. The very sight of him twists Buck's tongue and makes him stumble over his own feet like a teenager, even now. Even after everything.
Tommy raises an eyebrow, amused. Buck doesn't give him a chance to charge up whatever sarcastic comment he sees forming behind his eyes.
"Sorry, I mean, hey. Uh, hey, your- you have a lot more grey in, uh, in your beard."
It's true, to be fair. Buck can't keep his eyes off the way the silver hairs sparkle in the midmorning sunlight. He can't keep his eyes off of Tommy's face, his shoulders, his neck. There are little shaving nicks by hinge of his jaw that must be from days ago, judging by the length of his stubble. Tommy usually lets it grow while he's off-duty and shaves just before a shift. He said a clean shave was part of the uniform, always rubbed his knuckles over Buck's ever-present stubble in joking admonition. Buck wants him to do it again now, to get those strong hands on him and never let go. Except-
"And you have a toddler."
For the first time since he spotted Tommy at the next stall over, Buck remembers where he is: at the farmer's market in his new neighborhood, with Theo.
"Ah, yeah, that's uh- that's an interesting story, actually-"
"Buck!" Theo calls from his stroller. "Can I eat the bug?"
Buck has a slight moment of panic, redirecting his attention. He'd given Theo a container of ripe cherry tomatoes to snack on while he shopped. Sure enough, a big fly has landed on the tomato grasped in Theo's little fist.
"That's a no, bud. Thank you for asking me first. Good remembering. No, we don't eat bugs."
"Want to," Theo argues.
He's so much like Buck was as a kid that Buck still wants to cry sometimes.
"Hey, I get that, for sure. But sometimes bugs can make you sick, so we say no."
Theo pouts, still looking at the fly. "Okay," he agrees sadly.
The fly takes off before Buck has to decide whether to shoo it away. Immediately, Theo shoves the tomato into his mouth. Buck cringes. He can't win them all. He'd learned that with Chris, then with Jee-Yun, and he's learning it all over again with Theo.
"He's a cute kid," Tommy says, watching this all unfold with a genuine smile. "Are you babysitting?"
"No, I'm fostering, actually. He needed someone and I just- I couldn't walk away from him."
Tommy nods, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hey, that's great. You're good with kids. I always figured you wanted them. Hell, if I didn't know better, I'd think he was your kid. He looks so much like you."
Tommy says it lightly, jokingly, but Buck freezes. Tommy does too. His mouth falls open as he sucks in a surprised breath.
"Evan-"
"No," Buck says firmly. "This, uh, this is not the place for that. Too many ears. And it's a long story."
Buck looks between Theo and Tommy, hoping that Tommy will get the message. Too many ears—two too many small ears. Theo doesn't seem like he's paying attention, too wrapped up squishing tomato seeds between his fingers, but still. Buck isn't ready to tell him, and he definitely doesn't want Theo to find out from overhearing a conversation like this. They're years away from a real discussion. Buck is determined to do it right.
Tommy nods again. He looks down at Theo intently, like he's studying him. Tommy's look of surprise is slowly replaced by determination. He rocks back on his heels and tightens his arms around himself.
"I'd listen," Tommy says. It looks like it physically pains him to say it, to stay still long enough to say something so vulnerable. "If you wanted to tell me that long, interesting story, I'd listen."
Buck blinks. Tommy's beard is almost fully grey. The skin around his jaw is a little looser than it was that morning in the kitchen, that night under Buck's teeth. Tommy is noticeably older than he was a year ago. And he isn't running.
"Yeah?" Buck asks.
"Yeah."
"Even though it's been over a year? And my life has gotten, uh, more complicated?"
Tommy shrugs. He looks down and presses his lips together in a tight smile, like he's trying to clamp down a surge of happiness.
"Evan, I don't think there's a moment I've known you when your life wasn't complicated."
Buck laughs and it causes Tommy's smile to come out in full force, crinkling his eyes in that way that took Buck's breath away the first time he saw it.
"That's fair," Buck says.
"I think that's generous, actually," Tommy teases. "You know, you're the only person I've ever met who made me even come close to believing in curses."
Buck's cheeks hurt from smiling. He can't believe his luck. He can't believe Tommy still wants him. Maybe there's a reason he'd never quite been able to get over Tommy. Right now, standing in front of him again, Buck feels like no time has passed at all. The opportunity to pick back up—even if it's not quite where they left off—is within his grasp. All he has to do is reach out and take it.
"Yeah, okay. Any chance you're free on Saturday?"
"Saturday's great."
"Great." Buck grins. "I'll text you my new address. Theo goes down at eight. Well, I try to put him to bed at seven, but, you know."
"Toddlers," Tommy nods seriously.
"Toddlers," Buck agrees with a sigh. He can't stop smiling.
A moment passes where they just look at each other, take each other in. Buck would stand here in silence with Tommy for another year if that's what it took, but he knows that Theo will start to get cranky soon if they don't keep moving. Buck's life isn't about himself anymore.
"Well, listen," Buck says. "I should get him back home. I'll text you about Saturday."
"Can't wait."
Buck can't either. His life isn't about himself anymore, but he can still steal back moments here and there. He takes a step towards Tommy, and when Tommy doesn't move away, he takes another. He keeps his eyes locked on Tommy's until he's close enough to wrap his arms around him. Tommy's strong arms hold Buck close. Warm, safe, happy, Buck melts into it. Tommy clings like a desperate man.
"I've really missed you," Buck says into Tommy's shoulder. His heart aches as he hears the words come out of his mouth. He hasn't said it out loud in a long time, but he never stopped feeling it.
Tommy squeezes him tighter. "Me too. I've missed you so much, I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry too." Tears sting at the corners of Buck's eyes. He pulls back and gets a hand on Theo's stroller again. "Saturday."
"Saturday." Tommy nods. His eyes are watery too.
He gives a little wave as Buck walks away reluctantly, pushing Theo's stroller. Buck waves back. Theo tells Buck that he's a dinosaur, and he roars while eating the tomatoes. Buck loves it. He loves Theo, he loves that he gets to be part of his life. He needs to tell Tommy that on Saturday. He's not sure how much time he has to date right now. Theo is his number one priority, especially while he's still only fostering. He can't do anything to jeopardize the adoption he hopes is in his future.
He thinks that Tommy will understand. Maybe it'll even make their relationship stronger. They'll have to go slower, spend more time talking instead of fucking. They'll have to lay out their longterm goals and hopes for the future. If Tommy wants to be part of Buck's life, he'll have to be part of Theo's, too. And if he wants that, he'll have to be sure he's sticking around this time. Buck won't let Theo lose another parental figure so young.
But Buck is getting ahead of himself. Right now, he needs to get his kid and his groceries home safe. He needs to make lunch and let Theo run around in the backyard to tire himself out enough for a nap. He needs to do laundry (how do kids generate so much laundry?) and get ahead of the dishes before his next shift.
He'll see Tommy on Saturday. He bursts out in a grin just thinking about it. He'll see Tommy on Saturday.
For the prompt challenge you reblog: "Do we have to leave?" :3 💜
Hiii Ire! Here's a little drabble for you with 'Do we have to leave?'. I hope you enjoy this -ish words of shameless fluff:
- (Set in a canon-divergent after 8x05 au)
In Tommy's humble (and very cynical, he admits that much) opinion, the whole honeymoon concept was a huge money scam. Just a way for some places to charge extra for hotel rooms and cheesy tours that can be sold as 'romantic'.
If he ever got married and decided to have a honeymoon, Tommy would be smart about it. He wouldn't go to one of those very honeymoon-y overpriced places just because they were sold as romantic or whatever.
Like many certainties Tommy had, this one crumbled once Evan Buckley entered his life.
So this is how Thomas Giuseppe Kinard, former hater of honeymoon destinations, finds himself in a honeymoon suite in Paris of all places, the so-called city of love, with a wedding band on his left hand and Evan sleeping soundly on his chest.
They both cashed in what felt like ten years of unused PTO, but it was worth it. It's the second day of their honeymoon and they still have about ten days left, in which they plan to visit some quieter corners of France.
Evan will undoubtedly rattle off fun facts about every little town they pass by on the road, and Tommy will ask follow-up questions about all of them. And then they'll find a lavender field and have champagne that's actually from Champagne.
Damn. Tommy is really turning into a cliché. And happy about it too.
Evan starts to stir in his arms, rubbing his stubble-covered cheek against Tommy's bare chest and slightly scratching it in the nicest way. Tommy smiles before he can stop himself, and presses a gentle kiss to Evan's forehead.
"Morning, Mr. Kinard", Tommy whispers gently.
His husband hums slightly, looking at him with eyes that are still adorably sleepy and a small smile on his face.
"And morning to you, Mr. Kinard", he answers, voice hoarse like it always is when he's still waking up. Tommy loves how it sounds. "Have you been up long?"
"Not really. Maybe a couple minutes. This mattress is doing wonders for my back."
"You're such an old man", Evan teases, and Tommy pokes him in the ribs in retaliation. He huffs and squirms away.
"That's not what you were saying when we were putting this mattress to good use last night", he says, raising an eyebrow, and Evan smirks before settling against Tommy's chest once more.
They stay like that for a while, a comfortable silence settling over them. Tommy supposes the weather is good — there's a reason why they chose May for their honeymoon trip — but he can't be bothered to open the blackout curtains to check it. In fact, he'd be happy to have the world reduced to this: him, and Evan, and this room.
Evan must be thinking along the same lines, because eventually he wraps his arms tighter around Tommy's waist, a dreamy sigh escaping his lips.
"Do we have to leave?", he asks sleepily, and Tommy chuckles.
"Eventually, if we wanna do all the things on your travel plan", he says, and Evan grimaces.
"Fuck the travel plan"
Tommy fake-gasps, running his hand down Evan's smooth back.
"You don't mean that. You have it on a clipboard and everything"
"Hmmm, okay, maybe I don't", Evan concedes, but makes no motion to get up either. "It's just… This is so nice."
"It is", Tommy agrees, not even a hint of sarcasm or teasing now. He means that with his whole heart.
"So… Maybe we stay like this a little longer and change the travel plan a bit"
"I love that plan", he says, and then gently nudges Evan's chin so their eyes meet "And I love you"
Evan smiles like the sun itself has come down to his face, and Tommy's heart feels ridiculously full.
"I love you too"
Yeah. Tommy doesn't mind being scammed if it means he gets to have this.
-
I hope you enjoy it Ire darling <3
(send me a prompt and I'll write a Bucktommy scene)
"...This is a butt dial. Please ignore." for bucktommy please 🙏
🩷🩷🩷🩷
"Ugh. I hate some of these CalFire guys. Absolute douchebags."
"Mhmm," Buck replies, wondering how the hell Tommy is still going after the three shifts he just had up on the front lines of this year's wildfire. "You're way better at everything then they are."
"ExACTLY, thank you, Evan! I swear they've got some twenty-one year old that can't tell a fire line from a pile of dead leaves! His drop time was way off, and the other CalFire dudes just want to act like it's not that big a deal, 'he'll learn'!"
"What, after the fire spreads to three states?"
"Yes! Yes, babe, you get it. Why aren't you here?"
Buck laughs, phone slipping slightly from where Buck had it jammed in-between his shoulder and ear, trying to get his kitchen floor mopped before heading to bed himself.
"Well," Buck drawls, grinning, "I did just get a small little promotion and started a new house a few weeks ago, so it may be a little bit of a bad idea to follow you out of the city for three weeks."
"Oh, you're right, how could I forget? I was just telling Richards--our IC for the pilots--that this wildfire is clearly homophobic if it's stopping me from continually celebrating Leutenient Evan Buckley of the LAFD 122."
Buck barks out a laugh, feeling warmth spread down to his toes.
"And she tried to say that I was homophobic for making her listen to that when she was missing her wife so much! Can you believe that, Evan?"
"Unbelievable, babe." Buck says, bending at the waist to push the mop under the table.
"Yes. So then I countered and said, 'okay but my husband saved a baby from falling out of a window the other day! What did your wife do?"
Buck's breath catches, and the phone slips from his shoulder to the floor. Tommy's exhaustion and indignation means he doesn't notice, so he's still ranting when Buck scrambles to get the phone back to his ear. He drops the mop in exchange, standing up straight and waiting for Tommy to take a breath.
"...and okay yeah your wife is a pediatric surgeon. Sure that's cool and 'extremely valuable to society' but my--"
"Your what?" Buck asks, feeling breathless.
"My IC!" Tommy repeats, and before he can fully fill his lungs to continue his rant, Buck comes in.
"No, who were you telling her about? Your what?"
Tommy's words seem to catch up with him, and a stark silence fills the space.
"...This is a butt dial. Please ignore." Tommy says quickly.
"I called you!" Buck says, laughter bubbling up. He can practically see Tommy's inflamed cheeks and shifty eyes.
"No, no, sorry. Total butt dial. My name isn't even Tommy I just found this phone. Goodbye strange man."
Buck bursts out laughing as the call ends, and immediately flips his phone down to both hands to shoot off a text.
Nothing to do but wait, he keeps mopping, finishing the kitchen and putting everything away in the closet. He sits on the couch to wait.
About 15 minutes have passed when his phone lights up with a call, not Tommy this time.
"--ow, ow OW! LUCY! Stop fuckin-get OFF ME!" Buck can here the sounds of a struggle on the other end of the call, cot springs creaking inbetween bitten off curses.
There's more scuffling sounds before Tommy's winded breathing fills the line.
"--Donato you are damaging government property right now."
"Shut the hell up, Kinard." Lucy's voice floats past, and Buck gears up to bulldoze the conversation.
"Tommy Kinard, listen up. You've got a week left of this deployment. When you come back, you're gonna take a shower, sleep for 18 hours, eat the lasagna I'm gonna make; and when all of that is over and we're sitting here on this couch, I'm gonna give you the ring I bought 6-months ago. I just picked it up today."
There's only silence on the line for a moment, and suddenly Buck is met with a wall of hoots and whistles. He realizes then that Lucy had him on speaker.
"Hell yeah!" Lucy cries, and Buck can only imagine how hard Tommy is trying to hold onto his tough guy demeanor in the middle of a wildfire barracks with his coworker sitting on him.
"...yeah, okay." Tommy says, quiet and close to the phone.
"Shows over, firefighters. You gonna get my man back to me?" Buck says, feeling bold, and there's another round of loud cheering before another scramble the get the phone. The call hangs up, but Buck doesn't mind this time. He's getting up to lock the doors and head to bed when he gets a photo from Lucy--Tommy red faced but smiling, surrounded by Lucy and everyone at the basecamp, cheering.
Tommy "doesnt dress up for anything" Kinnard inviting Buck to Pride and Buck comes over in his new croptop with a bi flag draped around his neck expecting Tommy to, at most, maybe have a gay pride pin on.
Instead he lets himself in and walks in on Tommy pulling on a cutoff leather vest. In fact he's dressed head to toe in clothes Buck has Never seen. He's got thick leather boots underneath long black leather chaps. Peeking out from the chaps are the tightest pair of light wash blue jeans Buck has Ever seen. He's got a hunter green hanky hanging from his left pocket, and the right one has a rip right beneath the asscheek showing just a hint of the strap from a jockstrap.
Tommy turns around and smiles at Buck who is actually not sure he's still alive because this is the hottest thing he's ever seen. Then he notices all Tommy is wearing above the waist is that vest and a leather harness. No shirt. Just long expanses of skin.
Buck's legs go weak.
"See something you like, Boy?" Tommy asks, all confidence as he swaggers over to Buck.
Buck just gulps.
Tommy laughs, he does that same chin tilt to coax Buck into a kiss before pulling back and looking into his eyes. "Hope this isn't too much. Its literally the only time of year I... indulge myself with a bit of dress up."
Buck actually whimpers. "The Only day?" He asks, almost pleading.
Tommy sighs, chuckling to himself. "I mean, its a bit much for any other day right?"
Before he's even finished his sentence Buck is shaking his head vehemently.
"Every day. You can wear this every day. Can you wear this every day? Please?"
Tommy kisses him hard. "Good boy." He pats him on the ass before grabbing his keys. "Let's go."
On the way to the car Tommy stops and looks at Buck up and down. "I suppose I could bring it out more often... but I'd hate feeling like I'm the only one dressing up."
Buck just matches the smirk Tommy is wearing. "I think that can be arranged."
can i say yes now? @kinkley-love - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
