Scott Gimple, Angela Kang, & Tim Minear Will Never See Heaven
@mugsywrites
Writing blog of an occasional fanficcer. Used to be into TWD before being betrayed too many times. I spend way more time on my sideblog @gertruderobinsonscat. I occassionally dust this blog to dabble in other fandoms. I am Tumblr Old and feel like a withered ancient when I spend time here. Buy me a coffee if you'd like. https://ko-fi.com/mugsywrites
tommy kinard's age: Or, let Buck bounce on that age gap, kids
So. Let's talk about Tommy Kinard's age. Because every time I see him listed as 40 in a current, modern day fic, I lose my mind a little.
Now, obviously , you can do whatever you what in a fic, and I know WHY people do this - some word of god + LFJ's age, with a side helping of That Other Shipper Fandom Doesn't Get to Call Tommy Old if He's Less Than Ten Years Older Than Buck.
However.
Buck is a grown man who canonically dated and changed his life for a woman who was 42 when he was 26 and does not need to be protected from getting his back blown out and his heart claimed by a hot older man.
So, "Tommy Was Born NO Early than 1980 and Is At least 46 in 2026: A Minor Thesis By Me."
First, we know a couple of things about his age from canon:
We know from "Chimney Begins" that Tommy was not a probie in 2005 when Chim joined. So he'd been there at least a year before that. For the sake of making him as young as possible, we will say that he has ONLY been there a year. We also knew that he "learned to fly" in the army.
So, that means:
He had to have joined the LAFD ~2004.
Had to have completed the necessary requirements for army pilots prior to that. For Army pilots joining prior to October 1, 2020, there was a 6 year service requirement after completing flight school.
To be a pilot, Tommy also had to be either a Commissioned Officer OR a Warrant Officer. Assuming he was not an officer, that means he had to complete all of the following before he could becoming a pilot: Army Basic Training, Warrant Officer Candidate School (WOCS), and Army helicopter flight school.
To make Tommy AS YOUNG AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE IN THIS TIMELINE: We'll also assume he joined the army at 17 with parental permission, which you can do because the USA is stupid and because his father seems like the sort - and also because we are going to make Tommy as YOUNG as he can possibly be in 2026 to prove my point:
Age 17: Graduates High school, Enlists in Army and does Basic Combat Training ~ 2.5 months
Age 17: Warrant Officer Candidate School ~1.5 months
Ages: 17–18 Army helicopter flight school (IERW) ~12 months (Can be up to 18 months, but we are making this the shortest timeline possible)
Ages 18–24: Aviation service obligation 6 years
Age 24: Leaves Army (Here, we give Tommy a LOT of assumptive grace. Getting into the LAFD Academy is hard, but we'll assume his officers wrote nice things or whatever and he got in right away.)
Age 24 :LAFD Academy: 22 weeks
AGe 24: Starts Probie Year
Age 25: "Chimney Begins" - has been with LAFD for at least a year. (in 2005)
SO, if he's 25 in 2005, that would make him born in 1980. In 2026, that that makes him no younger than 46. If he's born in 1980, that means he is 11 years older than Buck's 1991 birth year, which is fun and sexy if you aren't boring (and they are not.)
Notes:
Now, in truth, in a realistic timeline, Tommy would be older still.
He'd spent closer to 18 months in flight school and he probably had to take some time to apply/wait/join the LAFD academy, and maybe his parents weren't dicks and made him wait to 18 before he signed his life away to the military and/or maybe he gradated at the age of 18.
There's also issues with waiting for admission to WOCs and flight school.
And we have no IDEA how long he was in the LAFD before Chim came along
Honestly, 48 is more realistic and he could easily be celebrating his 50th birthday OR BEYOND. IF YOU AREN'T A COWARD.
BUT~ if you want him as young as possible, 46 is the bottom floor of what can be going on here in 2026. He can definitely be older, but he can't be younger and have the timeline make any sense.
In conclusion:
Sources:
(Just sources; don't join the military, kids.)
Army Aviation Special and Incentive Pay Policies to Promote Performance, Manage Talent, and Sustain Retention
WIP Wednesday. Have some from the next chapter of Thought I was Done/Secret Relationship fic.
Buck found his eyes skittering to the guy’s amazing back again as he went to fit his padlock into the latch of the locker door. The guy was fresh from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel, his amazing back freckled with moles and a patch of burn scars—
Buck fumbled and nearly dropped his padlock. There was no point in trying to deny it, he knew that back, knew that pattern of moles and scar tissue, he’d mapped them out dozens of times with his lips and tongue.
“Tommy,” Buck said.
If someone had asked Evan Buckley if he was over Tommy Kinard he would have answered with a confident “yes”. Then, after a minute of reflection, he would clarify that part of him would always carry a bit of a torch for Tommy Kinard, but enough time had passed. Twice as long as they’d been together in total. Yes, he still had text message threads and photos saved on his phone he couldn’t bring himself to delete. Yes, he might have tugged it drunkenly to some of the spicier ones as recently as last month. Yes, he still had Tommy saved in his favorites contact list. But they hadn’t seen each other in person in over a year. (At least as far as Buck knew. He worked a few scenes where air support was called in and he found himself staring at the helicopters, wondering if Tommy was piloting. Wondered if maybe Tommy saw the engine number and was looking back for Buck.
Their last contact had been the previous October.
I got a new place. Do you want to see it?
Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean that how it sounded.
I just wanted to see you.
And I think the house is haunted. Could use someone who isn’t afraid of ghosts or curses.
Tommy bubbled him for what felt like an eternity, for so long Buck thought he wouldn’t reply.
Not a good idea.
Buck barely had time to be disappointed when Tommy delivered the killing blow.
Evan, I’ll always be here if you need me for something like the lab. But I think it’s a good idea if we keep our distance otherwise.
Well. That was that, wasn’t it?
Tommy froze when Buck said his name, half bent inside his locker. His eyes were wide and scared when he turned around. Buck’s own eyes automatically started to do the elevator sweep down his body before he forced himself to focus only on the other man’s face.
“You cut your hair,” Buck said stupidly. He hadn’t noticed from behind. Buck hated it; the curls shorn away made Tommy’s face seem harsher, older. Almost careworn. His cheekbones were sharper, more defined, and the hollows of his eyes darker.
“Evan,” Tommy said, “What are you doing here?”
Buck started to stammer out something, he had no idea what. Maybe about how he had just joined this gym, and yeah he’d known it wasn’t far from Tommy’s place but it never entered his mind for a second they’d actually run into each other. Tommy had a gym, had two gym, actually—a place where he did Muy Thai and a place he liked to go when he felt like being openly queer. Maybe Buck would have said that the universe really liked messing with him. But before he could get the first word out he registered something.
Buck had been fighting with every ounce of willpower to keep his eyes above Tommy’s collar bones, but he couldn’t help himself. His eyes slid down for only a second, long enough to register something that wasn’t all that far beneath Tommy’s collarbones to begin with. A raised, almost perfect circle just beneath his skin, and another thin line of raised skin leading up to his neck.
Buck gave up any pretense of not looking.
Long before tragedy tossed Theo Riley and his sick grandmother into Buck’s life, he’d gone on a deep dive into various cancer treatments. Right after Maddie told him about Daniel he spent hours researching juvenile leukemia, how treatment worked, how painful, how long, what chemical concoctions were used.
Very random but today I saw that the Nintendo Switch has a Thomas the Tank Engine "game" (which I think is mainly just driving around on railroad tracks and hearing a story) and I just imagined Buck, Tommy, and Theo having Thomas Video Game time together in your story 🥹
Thank you for putting that adorable image into my head.
SN: Aside from the Thomas/Tommy connection, the whole Thomas Mini thing is partly inspired by my nephews (I'm taking some artistic liberties because I don't think they still sell them in mystery bags) and how invested in the Lore™ my brother and sister-in-law got (seriously, they were almost as excited to open a new mystery bag as the boys).
Anyway, for the curious, here is Tommy's namesake:
Fuck it Friday. Have a bit from the next chapter of Thought I was Done/Secret Relationship fic.
“I was going to tell everyone when he asked me to marry him,” Buck says, placing each little ball of dough into his pan, “We were going to get a license at the courthouse and do the ceremony here, with everyone.” He gives a low, bitter little laugh, “I was even going to ask Chim if he’d officiate.”
Maddie has been struggling to hold back her tears since she sat down at Buck’s island. A few manage to escape at those words, but she’s able to ask, “What changed your mind?”
Buck laughs again, “You know, when we decided that yes, we definitely wanted to be together, and we were going to work on it, we came up with a…a Five Year Plan. Mostly for…for financial and career stuff. Where would be the best place for Theo to go to school. When we should get married, because we knew that’s where we wanted to get to, eventually. We were thinking of doing it in February. But Tommy didn’t want to wait, and neither did I, really. So he asked me to do it now, and I said yes.”
Maddie must make a face, and it’s her bad luck that Buck finally decides to look at her. Whatever he sees makes him burst out laughing, “Holy shit, Maddie. Maybe you should just go home.”
Maddie opens her mouth, bewildered, “I…what…”
“Say it,” Buck snaps, “Or leave.”
“Say what?” Maddie sputters, “I—”
“Say exactly whatever condescending, bless your heart, silly little Buckaroo, big sis wisdom you’re dying to share.”
Maddie’s mouth moves before she can stop herself, “You can’t just…clipboard your way into a relationship, Evan.”
“Right,” Buck says with a razor wire smile, “First I’m too impulsive and don’t think anything through. But trying to plan and make something deliberately is the wrong thing, too. Tell me, Maddie. Tell me exactly what and how I should have done this.”
“I don’t think you should have done it at all,” Maddie bursts out.
“There it is,” Buck says, “And you have the audacity to be confused as to why I’m fucking pissed off at you. After all, you just think I don’t deserve the same things you do, like a family and a partner of my own. I have to learn to be alone.”
I was tagged by @rcmclachlan for the last line game. Have something from Thought I Was Done/Secret Relationship fic:
“Yeah, that’s right,” Buck says, and his smile is so ugly, so twisted, that Maddie almost doesn't recognize him, “That wasn’t who he was. It was a momentary lapse, and hey, he never did it again, so it doesn’t matter. It was years ago! He said sorry, so of course I c-can’t, I can’t be mad at him. Besides, I’m a big guy, I can take it, and I was asking for it anyway. But I bet he wouldn’t have hit Eddie, no matter what he did. Or Hen. Or B-Bobby. He thinks they're actual people.”
Thing Thursday. Have some from an upcoming chapter of Thought I was Done/Secret Relationship fic.
“Okay,” Buck said, “First off: I still love you. I think I always will. But,”
“But,” Tommy said softly.
“But it’s not just me,” Buck said, “If it was just me then…well, we’d probably be in bed right now, actually.” He tried for a smirk, but he couldn’t hold it.
“That was kind of our problem, wasn’t it?” Tommy said ruefully, “Easy to not talk.”
“I wouldn’t call it a problem,” Buck said. The flirtatious smirk came a little easier, but he still couldn’t maintain it for long. “I want to do this. So much, you don’t have any idea.”
“I think I have some idea,” Tommy said, voice gone back to impossibly soft.
“Maybe,” Buck conceded. He took a deep breath—this was it, “But if we do, then I have some conditions. First one is: Me and Theo are a package deal now. I gotta put him first, before me, before you. I gotta do what’s best for him.”
Some of the tension went out of Tommy’s shoulders, and Buck thought he saw something that looked like hope, “Expected and accepted. What else?”
“Related to that,” Buck said, and wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks, “If you’re in our lives now, then you cannot unilaterally decide how the relationship is going to go and bolt. Not without talking to me first, really talking to me, and listening.”
“That was the second and third stupidest things I’ve ever done,” Tommy said, “It won’t happen again.”
“Well, to ensure that—Theo and I see a family therapist,” Buck said, “She does couples’ counseling too. I want us to do that. You and me, we have trouble talking to each other. And, uh, there’s the practical side of things.”
Buck opened his folder and took out the packet of relevant documents. It wasn’t until he passed it to Tommy and got some eyebrows in return that he realized how insane this was. Asking someone to fill out paperwork before officially dating you. There was no walking it back, however, “All adults who will be spending significant time with the child need to submit to fingerprinting and a background check—”
“Easy enough,” Tommy said, flipping through the paperwork, “I already had to go through that for the LAFD.”
“You have to do a home study too,” Buck added, “If, uh, if you want me and Theo to stay over with you.”
“Very much,” Tommy said, voice going soft again. He flipped through the pages briefly then sat them down on the table. “Is that it? In terms of conditions.”
“Yes,” Buck said, fidgeting with his folder, “You can have conditions too.”
Tommy shook his head once, “I don’t.”
“I want you to have conditions,” Buck insisted, “I’m sure if you think for a minute you can come up with some.”
Tommy just looked at him, soft and so fond, giving that smile of his that was close-mouthed and mostly in his eyes, “I really don’t have any, Evan.”
“Well, then I’ll make you some promises. I won’t take you for granted, this time around. I’m going to get to know you, not the cool pilot, whether you like it or not. Even all those ugly bits you’re afraid to let me see.”
Tommy looked hesitant for the first time since Buck started talking, “Some of those are pretty ugly.”
“And I promise to not let you distract me with that whole self-deprecating routine,” Buck said. He took in another deep breath, “Actually, I have one more condition. It’s kind of a promise, too. If, if…if you’re ever going through something, you’re not going to hide it from me. Especially not out of some…fucked up belief that it’s for my own good. You have to let me take care of you, do you understand me? You’ve shown up for me since we met, you have to give me the chance to show up for you.”
“Saved the hardest one for last,” Tommy huffed, “But yeah, I accept all your conditions.”
Tidbit Tuesday. Have a rough bit of an alternate take on the intervention from the last chapter of Thought I was done. (I went back and forth a few times on whether I wanted the Wilsons and Chimney there, but in the end only Maddie really made sense to me)
“Evan will be sad he missed you guys. What’s the occasion?” Tommy asks.
“Let’s not play this game, Tommy,” Hen sighs, “You know what this is.”
“I want to make you say it, actually,” Tommy says pleasantly. Even though he’s responding to Hen he keeps looking at Maddie. They may as well be the only two people in the room.
“We’re worried about Buck,” Hen says, the voice of reason, “I know it’s hard, but don’t take this personally.”
[MORE BUILD UP]
Tommy selects another cracker, “I’m here because he’s pissed off and doesn’t want to see you before he’s calmed down enough not to say something he’ll regret."
“Whoah, hey,” Howie says, leaping to Maddie's defense automatically, “What has he got to be so mad about? Maddie’s been here for him every step of the way, and he’s now he's not going to talk to her—”
“Oh, I see, you think this has nothing to do with you,” Tommy interrupts.
“Don’t quote fucking Mean Girls at me—” Howie says.
“Devil Wears Prada,” Tommy corrects, “Anyway, he’s pissed at all of you. Well, Diaz is on probation for giving him the heads up about this little meeting. He’s still on thin fucking ice, but they’re doing their bro thing right now.”
“I’m surprised that doesn’t bother you,” Maddie says, “That Buck’s spending time with the ‘competition’.”
[HENREN AND CHIMNEY SEEM CONFUSED]
Tommy blinks at her, before he smiles a big, nose scrunchy smile, “You’re adorable.”
Maddie wants to throw her wine glass in his face, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I spent five years in the army under DADT, then another five under Gerrard’s tender mercy. OG Gerrard, not the doddering grandpa you met. And you think you’re capable of hurting my feelings.” He takes a deliberate sip of wine, “Like I said. Adorable.”
He is such a fucking cunt, Maddie thinks as she tightens her grip on her glass. She remembers back when they were first dating, Buck telling her Tommy was like, so mean. He was laughing as he said it, completely enamored.
Karen, bless her, “Hey, why don’t we take a deep breath? Tommy, this isn’t personal. Everyone’s just worried about Buck. He’s been through a lot lately, and making a change this fast—”
“Do you really want to go there, Karen?” Tommy cuts her off, “Remind me of how long you were with Hen before she threw the whole ‘I’m adopting my ex’s baby’ thing at you.”
“You’re out of line,” Hen says, her calm persona gone.
“I apologize, Karen,” Tommy says, “I’m touched you’re here for Evan now. Both of you! Lucky you didn’t have a trip planned to Napa when this calamitous event befell him.”
More sentences Monday! Have some of an upcoming chapter of Thought I Was Done/Secret Relationship AU.
“I’m surprised that doesn’t bother you,” Maddie says, “That Buck’s spending time with the ‘competition’.”
Tommy blinks at her, before he smiles a big, nose scrunchy smile, “You’re adorable.”
Maddie wants to throw her wine glass in his face, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I spent five years in the army under DADT, then another five under Gerrard’s tender mercy. OG Gerrard, not the doddering grandpa you met. And you think you’re capable of hurting my feelings.” He takes a deliberate sip of wine, “Like I said. Adorable.”
He is such a fucking cunt, Maddie thinks as she tightens her grip on her glass. She remembers back when they were first dating, Buck telling her Tommy was like, so mean. He was laughing as he said it, completely enamored.
Fuck it Friday. More Buck PoV from Thought I Was Done/#secret relationship AU.
Nights Tommy stayed over were the best ones. Even without sex—so far that element of their relationship was strictly scheduled for when Theo was at school or away for Cousin Night.
It wasn’t propriety that stopped them. Theo still had nightmares occasionally that were as unpredictable as they were intense. Nothing could kill the mood quite like the possibility of a heartbroken little boy screaming for someone who could never come. Worse were the times Theo responded to Buck’s attempts at soothing with, I hate you, I hate you, I want to go home!
Buck didn’t wake up screaming from his own nightmares. Even the worst ones, the nightmares that involved people living in his walls searching for lost sons. Before Tommy started staying over Buck couldn’t get back to sleep unless he checked Theo’s closet and the attic.
Buck never dreamed Bonnie in his walls, which was somehow worse. Sometimes it was strangers, but most often it was Connor, Kameron, or both of them. They looked fine and healthy, and would smile and thank Buck for taking such good care of their son, then tell him were a family and Theo belonged with them now. No, he doesn’t, you’re right, I was the donor not the dad, but he doesn’t belong with you now, you can’t have him.
(A few times Buck dreamed it was Margaret Buckley.)
But the absolute worst was the time it was Bobby. A blood-soaked, horror movie version of him, of how he must have looked after the virus ran its course.
(Buck unfortunately had that dream before Tommy started sleeping over. He still answered his phone when Buck called, patiently and gently asking what had happened, did he need something, while Buck sobbed. He didn't have the words to express how guilty and strangely violated he felt by his own brain, that it turned of the man Buck still missed so, so much into a horror. )
For the five facts AU: Bucktommy au where Tommy is a librarian and Buck is the guy that keeps coming in researching some crazy topics and Tommy is always the one having to help him find the right books.
This one is very fun. Also I know nothing about how libraries work; I just use them.
1. The first thing Tommy did when he returned home after his honorable discharge was to move into the small apartment above his grandfather’s house. No, the first thing he did was stand in departures fighting the urge to get right back on the plane and get the hell out of town. The fourth thing he did, after buying a new mattress for the apartment because the old one was too soft after years of sleeping in various barracks and bases, was go to the library.
It hadn’t changed in the years he’d been away: children’s section on the first floor, young adult tucked away in the far corner, fiction on the second level, microfiche and nonfiction in the basement, and Mr. Artie behind the main desk.
“My gracious, is that little Tommy Kinard?” Mr. Artie said, practically sprinting around the desk, arms held out in invitation. Tommy stepped into them. “Oof, not so little anymore. What as the army done to you?”
“Given me PTSD and a new appreciation for good water pressure,” he said.
“Oh, honey,” Mr. Artie said, and rubbed his back in the way Tommy always figured parents who loved the kids did. “I have missed you.”
Mr. Artie hadn’t changed either. He still wore colorful bow ties and listened intently to the small kids who were so excited to use their library cards to check out books and patiently helped older folk use the computer and sign up for email and navigate various government websites. And when he wasn’t doing that, Mr. Artie was handing him books to read like he was still that angry little kid who would have lived in the library full time if it meant he never had to go home again.
Just like then, Tommy hung around so often that Mr. Artie designated him a volunteer and showed him how to check out books for the patrons. He read and he shelved books and he helped a kid find books on dinosaurs and put in a request for the Bunnicula books for another and, once, pulled some queer books for a terrified fourteen year old and reserved them a small study room so they could read in peace and not have the books show up on their account.
“You’re good with them,” Mr. Artie said quietly.
Tommy shrugged and requested a few other books from the library system to be checked out under his account. The kid could read them when they came in. “Being fourteen is hard. No reason to make it harder.”
“Come to dinner tomorrow,” Mr. Artie said. “I know you’re not busy and Steven is grilling.”
2. Tommy forwent buying a bottle of wine because he knew fuckall about wine, but he picked up some flowers and a some pretentious beers from the one pretentious liqour store in town and went to dinner. Everyone knew Mr. Artie was gay, but they were polite enough not call attention to it, probably because the entire population under the age of twenty would riot if they tried to oust him from his position.
Mr. Artie was delighted by the flowers and Tommy nursed a beer and watched as Mr. Artie and Steven moved around each other with the familiarity of long years and pretended that he didn’t ache.
When dinner was eaten and Steven had chased them to the rocking chairs on the back porch so he could clean up, Mr. Artie said, “Have you thought about what you’ll do now that you’re home?”
His grandfather had also been asking that, but it stung less coming from Mr. Artie.
“I have my pilots license,” Tommy said. “There’s some outfits nearby that run tours. I might do that. It’s not bad money.”
“And you like flying,” Mr. Artie said, gently rocking. “You’re good with the kids at the library. You’re even good with the people you don’t like.”
“Now that’s not true,” Tommy said, matching his rocking speed to Mr. Artie’s.
“It is. You’re a kind man, Tommy, and I don’t want you wasting away here.” Mr. Artie reached across the space between them and gently took Tommy’s hand in his. “You more than earned that GI Bill. Consider putting it to use. There’s no rule saying you can’t keep your license and do something else.”
Tommy swallowed around the familiar pain. “Do you think school is for me?”
Mr. Artie squeezed his hand. “It’s for everyone, but I think you would make a wonderful librarian, if that’s where your passion leads you.”
“Okay,” he said quietly, and squeezed back.
3. Tommy took a couple classes at the community college and then took a couple more. His grades were decent and then more than decent when he really buckled down. Mr. Artie helped him apply to school, most of them in Los Angeles, all of them out of town, and wrote a recommendation letter so glowing it felt like it belongs to someone else.
When he received an acceptance letter, Mr. Artie whooped so loudly he disturbed every teenager in the manga section.
“There’s something else,” Tommy said, hands shaking so hard that Mr. Artie took hold to steady him. “I’m gay.” It was the first time he ever admitted it out loud.
“Welcome to the family, honey,” Mr. Artie said, and held him so tightly that Tommy felt it in his ribs.
4. Tommy got his bachelor’s and then his master’s and joined the greater Los Angles Public Library system as a reference librarian who had a reputation for being able to find information on any subject, no matter how obscure or embarrassing. Tommy lost count of how many times he directed a blushing queer kid toward The Joy of Gay Sex and then on to his favorite informative pamphlet on trans sex.
So it didn’t even make his top five strangest requests when a beautiful man with a birthmark stamped above his eye said, “Hey, what are the new frogs?”
“Is this for a school project?” Tommy asked, already pulling up JSTOR.
“Personal research,” the guy said.
A cute kid on crutches, practically hidden by the guy’s, holy shit, long legs, piped up. “My cousin says we discovered all the frogs and there are no new ones, and she’s wrong.”
“But you need citations to support your case,” Tommy said, and the kid nodded vigorously. He refined his search to find something more kid friendly. “Well, it turns out you’re in luck. New species were discovered this year. I’ll get you set up at a computer and you can read some articles. I’ll even show you how to format a bibliography. That should shut up your cousin.”
Tommy led the kid and his dad to a computer and showed him the same search he used and pointed to him where the printers were and ignored how the dad’s gaze kept tracking to him.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Tommy said.
“You’ll be our first call,” the dad said. “I-I mean, if we have more frog questions. Or other questions. Like about, um, space.”
“Space?” the kid said.
“Yeah, like what’s going on up there,” the dad continued with an agonized expression that meant he was actively wishing for death. “Um, thanks for your help.”
“Any time,” Tommy said.
By the time the kid finished with his research, a stack of printed articles stuffed in his backpack, Tommy handed the dad a list of books about the history of space exploration. “Just in case you were curious about what’s going on up there,” he said.
“I know you’re making funny of me,” the dad said, “but joke’s on you. I’m going to read every one of these.”
“That’s why I gave you the list,” Tommy said, and smiled as the kid groaned and dragged his dad to the exit.
5. “Do you got anything on the history of ceiling fans?”
Tommy looked up into the handsome face of the dad from last week.
“Moved on from frogs, huh?” he said, already defining the parameters of the search. “Did your son win the argument?”
The guy blinked. “My—you mean Chris? He’s not my son. He’s the son of my partner. Work partner,” he added quickly. “I’m a firefighter, and so is Eddie. That’s Chris’s dad. I’m Buck. Uh, Evan Buckley. Hi.”
“Hello, Evan Buckley,” Tommy said, and tapped the nameplate on his desk. “That’s me.”
Evan made a show of looking at the plate. “Thanks for the space recs, Tommy. I really liked the one about the cosmonauts.”
“Just don’t go reading that one article about the lost cosmonauts. The scholarship on it is appalling.”
Evan was suspiciously quiet.
“Evan.”
“So are you really not going to ask me why I want to know about the history of ceiling fans?” Evan said.
“That doesn’t even make the list of top twenty weird things I’ve been asked to find references for,” he said. “And I don’t research and tell.”
Evan pouted. “We had a call the other day where a ceiling fan beaned this guy hard on the head, and I got curious about them.”
Of course he did. Tommy printed the list he compiled. “A lot of this is going to be about design, but I think you’ll find some good sources in there.” He tapped the bottom of the list. “I also added some micro histories in case you got bored with the fans. The one on salt is good. So is the butter.”
Evan stared intently at the list. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Tommy leaned in and lowered his voice. “You seem like the type to like fun facts. These are very fun facts.” He leaned back. “Anything else I can help you with?”
Evan jumped and glanced behind him where a sleep deprived student looked to on the verge of tears. “Uh, no, this is great. Thank you.”
“It’s what I do,” Tommy said, and waved the student forward.
6. Evan became a regular after that, stopping at least once a week with a new topic he was interested in: tattoos, African currency swords, clown eggs, a biography on Archduke Ferdinand, bones.
“Bones,” Tommy repeated. “Are you talking about in an anthropological sense? Do you want to read up on hominid fossils? Or are you more interested in it from a medical science angle?”
“Surprise me,” Evan said, and smiled at his sigh. “Hey, what’s your favorite thing someone has asked you to look up?”
Tommy thought about it while he picked out the densest anthropological textbooks to give Evan. “One woman came in asking for more information on sky burials. I never heard of it before, so I liked that I got to learn about it alongside her.”
Evan perked up. “What’s a sky burial?”
“It’s a mainly Tibetan practice. In higher elevations, the ground is too hard to bury the bodies and there isn’t enough wood for cremations. So when a person dies, their bodies are broken down and fed to the vultures.” He chanced a glance at Evan who was listening intently, the same as he did with everything Tommy told him. “I know it sounds macabre, but it’s—”
Tommy turned his attention back to his search. “Yeah, me too.”
When he sent Evan off to find the textbooks and the few resources on sky burials, his coworker June rolled over and said, “It’d be less embarrassing if you just asked to suck his dick.”
“This is why they don’t let you around kids,” Tommy said, and shoved her away.
7. Evan, Tommy learned, liked documentaries and histories and saw maybe two movies a year, and made a noise when Tommy asked if he ever read fiction.
“Sometimes,” Evan said. “I have a hard time finding anything that keeps my attention.”
Tommy started him with some Alexander Dumas (The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Crisco) and then a few old adventure stories (The Scarlet Pimpernel), and then a couple of romances and some fantasy, some of which he liked (Discworld) and some of which he didn’t (Tolkien was a bust), and then some scifi since Evan liked learning about space.
“Try this,” Tommy said handing over a copy of A Matter of Oaths, which he’d set specifically aside. “It’s one of the early queer space operas.”
Evan mentioned some ex-girlfriends and Tommy had carefully let slip that he dated men, and Evan had sweetly proclaimed himself an ally. But this was different. This was the book Mr. Artie had given him one rainy, miserable day that had made little fourteen year old Tommy feel less alone.
Evan smoothed gentle fingers along the spine. “I’m excited to read it.”
6. “While this courtship is very sweet,” Mr. Artie said that evening during their regularly scheduled call, “have you considered asking him out?”
“He’s straight,” Tommy said, pawing through his fridge for something that was edible. “And it would be unprofessional.”
“Honey, you told him about sky burials and had him read A Matter of Oaths. The only thing left at this point is to ask him to dinner.”
“Ask him to marry you!” Steve called out.
“I should have become a grossly overpaid private pilot,” Tommy said.
“You would have been so miserable,” said Mr. Artie, “and you would never have met your Evan.”
Well, Mr. Artie wasn’t wrong.
7. Tommy was late coming back to lunch, which meant he was going to get an earful from June, who hated covering the reference desk. She saw him heading over and, with audible relief, said, “Thank god. Your regular needs some help.”
Evan reluctantly turned around with a small wave. “I thought you were off today.”
“The flu’s been taking everyone out. I’m covering.” He slipped behind the desk. “What are we looking up today? You were on that bee kick last week.”
Evan turned a beseeching look on June, but he would have better luck with some actual bees; she happily abandoned him for her beloved microfiche archive.
“Uh, queer history?” Evan fiddled with the cuffs of his baby pink cardigan. “My coworker, uh, friend Hen, she’s married to a woman and I thought I should look into it more. I mean, I know there’s Stonewall and the AIDs crisis and then gay marriage.”
“Those are the highlights,” he said dryly and instantly regretted it when Evan winced. He made an effort to soften his tone. “There’s a lot more to it than that.”
“There is!” Evan snapped his fingers. “And I figured maybe I should learn more since Pride is coming up.”
“In four months,” he said absently, trying to figure out what to even suggest. Evan liked histories, but did Tommy start him with Stonewall? Did he give Evan a history about queerness during the Harlem Renaissance? There were more contemporary sources, things Evan had been alive for—the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and Obergefell—but that was an US centric approach, and so many countries had their own queer cultures.
“I didn’t think this would stump you,” Evan said with a brave little smile.
“You know I like to make sure I get it right,” Tommy said, and printed out the list. “Start with these photography collections. It’s just queer people living their lives. If you like that, we can move on to specifics.”
“Thank you,” Evan said quietly, and made it two steps before turning back. “Hey, you also have a copy of The Joy of Gay Sex, right? I just want to be thorough.”
Tommy laughed so hard he could barely point Evan in the direction of the stacks.
8. Between his shifts and Evan’s shifts and a baby version of the flu felling him, it was three weeks before he saw Evan again. They’d been short staffed and apparently every high school student in the city waited until the last minute to write their report on Of Mice and Men, and all he wanted was to go home and watch something devoid of any kind of educational value.
Evan, dressed in a nice button up shirt and nervously bouncing on his heels, was waiting outside.
His eyebrows bounced up. “Evan, what are you doing here?”
Evan shoved his hands into his pockets only to immediately take them out again. “I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner. With me, if that wasn’t clear.” His hair was so carefully styled. “Also I watched this program on sky burials the other day and that’s genuinely what I want now.”
Tommy cracked up and reached for Evan’s hand. “Tell me about it at dinner.”
Evan laced this fingers together.
9. Tommy brought Evan home for Mr. Artie’s retirement party.
“Oh, honey, you did good,” Mr. Artie said, immediately pulling Evan into a hug. “Be honest with me, did the sky burials work?”
“That and the history of salt,” Evan said, any nervous shyness vanishing. “I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you.”
“You are the first boy Tommy has ever brought home.” And Mr. Artie hugged Evan so hard he must have felt in his ribs. “Welcome to the family, Evan. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” Tommy said softly, and Evan smiled bright and joyous and free.
