thought i would be able to finish this dom!buck fic today, but it didn't work out that way, so have another preview while i cry in the meantime :)
The drive home was silent. For a hot second, Evan looked at him so intensely, Tommy thought he was about to get jumped, but Evan graciously let him keep his keys.
The steering wheel felt clammy under his hands. He had no idea what was about to happen. The dynamic between them had been fixed from the start. They hadn't talked about it all that much, they didn't need to. They wanted the same thing.
He glanced at Evan in the passenger seat. Or maybe they didn't.
There was no rush in the entryway. They took off their coats and their shoes, like normal.
Evan's inhale was loud in the small space. ”You can say n– ”
”I won't.”
Evan looked at him for a beat, face neutral. ”I wasn't finished.” Torn between sorry and I trust you, Tommy didn't reply fast enough. ”Traffic light,” Evan said. ”Chair in the living room. Wait for me.”
He wasn't going to hesitate twice. Tommy went to the living room and sat down. He hadn't been ordered around in his own house before.
Evan must have slipped by him. He couldn't hear it, Evan was light on his feet when he wanted to be, but he was up to something, moving around in the back of the house.
He forgot to turn on the light, but he was already sitting down. It was probably better to wait. If Evan wanted the light on, he could get it on his way in.
Tommy hadn't seen Evan in work mode that many times. They'd only bumped into each other once, while working a scene. The 118 had treated a hiker, who needed a medevac. He'd spotted Evan through the window, but Hen and Eddie were the ones who made the transfer.
He hadn't seen firefighter Evan off the clock before. When he wasn't on scene, Evan's body language was loose and playful, always ready to join in. This wasn't that. This was firefighter Buckley, moving with purpose and confidence, ready for whatever was about to happen, ready to improvise.
Not for the first time, it struck him that Evan was going to make an incredible captain someday.
Evan stood before him, hands and pockets empty. A nod, tight and efficient, ”Hands on the armrests.”
Tommy's hands found the armrests without input from his brain.
Evan straddled him, and held his face, hands gentle. He tucked a hand up under Tommy's chin, holding the hinge of his jaw from below. ”I won't be asking.” Tommy nodded. ”Verbal.”
Tommy swallowed. ”Understood.”
Evan used both hands to tilt his head back, one on his jaw, one cradling the back of his head. Evan kissed him, slow and unhurried. There was still a hint of the usual eagerness, in the press of his his lips, in the way he couldn't keep his tongue in his own mouth, but it was contained. Controlled.
It was heady, being reminded that everything Evan did was a choice. He wasn't an excited puppy, who didn't know what he was doing and let his own excitement pull him around. It was a choice to be excited, to be physical, to be vocal. Evan didn't cut his own happiness short, the way Tommy often did. He let himself feel things fully, without a care for the consequences.
Tommy moaned. Evan's hand went tight across his throat, no doubt reacting to the vibrations from Tommy's larynx against his palm. Their lips parted with a wet little sound.
Tommy looked up into Evan's eyes. His face was carefully blank, not a hint of emotion anywhere.
Evan's long legs unfolded, as he climbed off. The left one looked stiff, but Tommy didn't comment on it. If it was an issue, Evan would say so.
”You're going to fuck me,” Evan said, ”and I'm going to tell you how.” He walked backwards, out of the living room. Tommy followed.
i'm doing a puppy play sequel from tommy's pov
(first preview of what will likely be many)
Evan was at the foot of the bed, curled around Tommy's feet. It was hard to tell sometimes, if he was asleep or just happy. He could feel Evan's stomach rise and fall against the soles of his feet.
Tommy wasn't the type to nap, unless he was falling down, but Evan loved play that was essentially resting. Lying all over Tommy, or at his feet. He'd attempted to read, but it was hard to focus on anything else when Evan was right there.
Gently, Tommy pointed his feet. ”You awake?”
Evan smiled and stretched with a soft sound, before curling back around Tommy's feet. ”Kind of.” He stuck his hand up under the hem of Tommy's sweatpants.
Tommy was always on the edge of insomnia. Evan was probably doing wonders for his health.
He snapped his fingers. Evan looked up, much more awake. ”Up here.” Evan clambered up, holding himself above Tommy, on all fours, ready for instruction.
”Yes?”
Tommy curled his fingers under Evan's chin, scritching gently. Evan was so responsive, always taking everything he could get. ”How're you feeling?”
”Like I should call in sick and stay here.”
”Mm? And what would you do here?” Tommy asked.
”Whatever you want me to.”
Tommy exhaled, slow and controlled. ”Dangerous thing to tell me.”
”Why?” Evan smiled. ”You gonna hurt me?”
Evan had a lot of assumptions about kink, assumptions Tommy should correct, but didn't. Evan didn't want to be hurt, but he seemed to think it was a part of it, even though Tommy hadn't so much as hinted at it.
”Do you want me to?”
Evan's brows pinched for half a second, before they smoothed out into soft obedience. For some reason he was incapable of saying no, even when he knew he didn't want it. ”Do you?”
Tommy threaded his fingers through the back of Evan's hair, holding on tightly. ”Staying doesn't mean you get what you want,” Tommy said neutrally. ”For all you know, you could be spending the night on the floor.”
Evan sucked his lower lip into his mouth, eyes darting around Tommy's face. ”And what would you be doing?”
”Anything I want. Read a book, watch a movie,” he said. ”Get off.”
Evan's beautiful little pout came out to play. ”So an evil version of floor time?”
”You love floor time.”
”Not if I can't touch you. What would you do if I did it anyway?”
Tommy hummed, pretending to think. ”I could put you out back.”
Evan's eyes went wide. ”You'd put me in the backyard?”
”Hey, now. It's a nice yard.”
Evan's eyes darted back and forth. ”I can't tell if you mean that.”
He could only keep a straight face for so long. He pulled Evan down into a kiss. ”The only way I'd put you in the backyard, was if you asked me to put you there. OK?”
Evan beamed. If he'd had a tail, it would be wagging. ”OK.”
my insomnia is getting worse and this came to me in the night. i can't tell you what it is or where it's going, but it compels me
Tommy would know that sound anywhere. He checked, but Evan didn't react. He probably wasn't attuned to it. Tommy wiped his hands, and moved through the house, out the door, and out to the street. The rumbling purr grew in volume, until he came around the corner and into view.
The bike came to a gentle, rolling stop. Gravel crunched under his boots. Mikey flipped up the visor, grinning. ”Hey, man.”
He looked at Mikey as if he was a stranger, tried to see what Evan would see when he laid eyes on him, but he couldn't. Looking at Mikey was like looking in a mirror. The same nose, the same jaw. Their mother's eyes. Tommy's eyes were a couple of shades lighter, just that little bit off.
Tommy hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the garage. ”I made room for you. It's gonna rain later.”
”Appreciate it.” Mikey tapped the gas, turning the bike into the garage.
No, he couldn't look at Mikey and see a stranger, no matter how long they were apart. He was there when the foundation was created; knew the skeleton that held everything up. They were together when he busted his eyebrow. Tommy was with him when he decided he didn't need stitches; was with him every day, until the skin finally, finally closed and stayed that way.
Evan came out, dish towel in hand. ”Oh, he's here?”
”Just pulled up.”
They watched him together, as Mikey took off his helmet, his gloves, his neck gaiter. Evan's shoulder bumped his. ”He looks like you.”
”Yeah,” Tommy grimaced. ”Mom's genetics are strong.”
Evan turned his head. ”You look like your mom?”
”This the boyfriend?” Mikey's booming voice asked.
Tommy needlessly pointed, ”This is Evan,” as he walked over.
”Hey,” Mikey grinned. ”Michael Kinard. Call me Mikey.”
”Mikey and Tommy,” Evan smiled.
Mikey glanced his way, eyes sparkling. ”Yeah,” he said. ”Mikey and Tommy.”
”You hungry? Food's just about done.”
”Starving.”
Evan laughed, as Mikey walked in like he owned the place. He leaned in close and said, ”You have the same face.”
”I'm aware.”
Evan did a theatrical little leer. ”That's what I have to look forward to in…?”
In response to @thegingerparty: I am dying to know what Tommy was thinking of when they do floor time lol. I know like you said he's trying to be aloof even if he's like dying inside imagining how this scene is going to go but.
Tommy enjoys putting subs in stress positions, until failure or until they cry/beg to stop. Floor time is similar, but without the physical strain on the body. Tommy was nervous about how Buck would react, because if he didn't like it, a lot of his favourite things would not be an option.
Another concern was that puppies/pets are often very active, and it's something Tommy doesn't have a lot of experience with, so again, if Buck reacted badly, couldn't hold still, or simply didn't like it, Tommy would have to make a lot of changes to how he approaches their scenes.
Tommy purposely put himself on the couch, to get out of Buck's line of sight. He got to react and check on Buck from up above, while Buck was busy closing his eyes or looking at the ceiling.
Turning the TV on was part of the theatrics, to make Buck believe he wasn't paying attention to him. He didn't expect Buck to touch his feet or take off his socks. That's why he asked if Buck wanted to come up on the couch with him, because holding still was becoming an issue. Buck was responding so beautifully, Tommy struggled to keep still. He used Buck's excitement to pull attention away from his own.
And of course he's very relieved and excited that they both like this very specific thing. Could they have had an open and honest conversation instead? Yes. Are they going to? No.
Again, I'm happy to talk about it, so thank you for asking!
Hello good....whatever part of the day you may be in !!! I have been spending my morning talking with my friend about how much we love the puppy buck fic and how incredible it is and also how much we are dying to know what Tommy was thinking/feeling at various points in the story. Did you you have in your mind his perspective at all in certain scenes, or did you plan out what his motivations are behind being into puppy play, as a dom? Why he seeks it out?? I'm just such a huge fan of this fic I'm so curious about your thought process behind writing it!!
I can't believe my fic is a topic of conversation ;;
I had Tommy's perspective in mind most, if not all of the time I'd say? I'm a very dom focused writer, even when it's not their POV. Tommy was under the assumption Buck was experienced, so he acted like he was playing with someone with experience, meaning he was trying to impress Buck. He wanted to be a Good Dom for Buck and impress him with how good he is. When Buck tells him Tommy is his first, that doesn't change, because now he has to impress Buck because he's his first and he wants to be a good bench mark, for whoever comes after him. He wants to set Buck's standards high.
Tommy has a very careful facade of being capable and less affected than he is, but he is losing his mind every step of the way. When they're not together, Tommy is thinking about Buck constantly, and tying himself in knots trying to figure out what to do next. When he thinks of a scene, no matter how excited he is, he presents the scene casually, as if he just thought about it and it's not a big deal.
I really struggled with getting the ending right, because I felt Tommy might come across too aloof. I wouldn't say he puts on an act, but he has a carefully curated dom persona. In the fic, we only really see it crack, when Buck reveals he's not a puppy. And also during their first date at the café. Tommy wasn't comfortable at the café, because he doesn't have a clear role there. He's just himself, and he's much more comfortable in situations where he knows his role, whether that's as Buck's Dom or Firefighter Pilot Tommy Kinard.
Which is why he got into kink in the first place. Everyone has a role and those roles come with guidelines and conventions. There's always a rough blueprint to follow. For Tommy, there's safety in that.
In terms of puppy play specifically, it's not actually Tommy's favourite. He likes puppies, but he doesn't seek them out — not until Buck. Tommy has been doing his own fair share of research to do right by Buck. It comes up a couple of times in the fic, that Tommy asks for/does something a little harder than what Buck is comfortable with, because that's what Tommy is used to.
I didn't expect so many people to call the story soft/fluffy, but as a reader, you're not in Tommy's head like I am. His relationship with Buck is a lot softer than anything he's done before, which I imagine is anxiety inducing for him, as well as possibly a bit freeing?
If you wanna know about a specific part/scene of the fic, let me know!
It was a difficult fic to finish, so I hadn't actually considered it, but the comments I've gotten have made me want to do a part 2, told from Tommy's POV. The trouble with that is, due to the way I write, I would inevitably focus more on the emotional torment rather than kink, and the whole point of this fic was to write kink, so it would be a bit of a thematic departure, but if I really put my mind to it, maybe I can manage a 50/50 split between torment and kink. I imagine I'd set the story in the early stages of them being boyfriends, where both of them have to adjust to having/being a boyfriend.
I'm so, so happy you liked it! And thank you for telling me!
Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard — Rated E — 16,568 words
Different first meeting, Puppy Play, BDSM, Fingers in Mouth
The music was too loud to have a meaningful conversation, but they tried. Tommy handed him another drink. Buck was too focused on not getting jostled and spilling the overpriced alcohol all over the both of them, so he missed the context, when Tommy said, ”Puppy?”
A bit of a non sequitur, but Buck didn't think anything of it. He had been called a golden retriever before, so he laughed and said, ”I mean, yeah.”
Tommy's whole face crinkled in a smile. ”Yeah, you are.”
AU where Abby is still engaged to Tommy, when she meets Buck. Sparks fly and Abby forgets she's not supposed to do anything about that. Things with Tommy have been… stale, for a long time. Comfortable, but nothing like what she feels when Buck pays her the smallest amount of attention.
Tommy notices. Abby isn't subtle. She mentions Buck, maybe more than a little. Tommy isn't hurt, doesn't ask any of the questions he's supposed to. He's been wanting to end things for a long time, but he fears if he's the one to end it, it will hurt Abby more, than if she was the one to leave.
The more she talks about Buck, the more things begin to crystalise. If Tommy can push her into Buck's arms, maybe things between them can end well. Abby will have a brand new boyfriend and Tommy can… Tommy can figure out what comes next.
Buck shows up at the apartment, unplanned. Maybe Abby sounded sad when they spoke on the phone. Something makes him want to check on her. But Abby is working late, so he meets Tommy. Tommy invites him in, tries to be subtle, but Buck isn't picking up what he's putting down, so he ends up saying it as it is. If Buck has feelings for Abby, he should pursue her. It doesn't go the way Tommy thought it would.
Buck asks what's going on. Are they in an open relationship? Is it a cuck thing? A unicorn thing? Tommy is annoyed that Buck doesn't say sure, Tommy! I'll seduce your fiance, you don't have to tell me twice! No, Buck is inquisitive and wants to know everything. Abby comes home, before Buck can get his answers.
Abby gets flustered and realises what her relationship with Buck might look like. It's a mess of an evening. Buck stays for dinner. Abby spends the whole night trying to convince all three of them that things are decidedly platonic – also after Buck leaves. Tommy says it's OK, even though Abby is clearly frustrated by that. Tommy could at least pretend to be a little bit jealous!
Buck talks to Hen about it. He figures Bobby is a little too traditional to be helpful with whatever is going on. When Hen realises it's Tommy Kinard, she gives Buck his phone number.
Things only get more complicated when the two of them meet up. Tommy tries again. Buck understands Tommy's plan, but he doesn't understand why Tommy doesn't like Abby. Tommy has to patiently explain that he loves Abby, but not in the way she deserves. Buck is little dense, and Tommy sees no other way out, than coming out.
The concept of not liking women at all throws Buck for a momentary loop, but he gets back on track and makes puppy eyes at Tommy, because that sounds really tough. And sad. For everyone involved. Buck agrees to keep seeing Abby and see where things go. He doesn't know her that well yet, so he can't say for certain, but if Tommy promises it's OK, he'd like to spend more time with Abby.
Being with Buck makes Abby light up in ways Tommy has never seen before. Tommy is happy for her. He himself feels lighter.
Until Buck starts checking up on him. Buck's been wanting to kiss Abby for a while now, but he needs to know it's still OK. If Tommy is still OK with it. If Tommy has talked to Abby about it yet. Tommy was hoping he didn't have to, but Buck insists.
It's a difficult conversation, with no clear conclusion. Abby is free to do whatever she wants to do with Buck, but he doesn't label it. Neither one of them do.
It works out, for a while. Abby is happy with Buck, and Tommy is happy for her – for both of them. Unexpectedly, Abby wakes up to the fact that she can do whatever she wants. All these things she figured she was getting too old for. Hearing about all Buck's travels inspires her. Suddenly, Buck and Tommy are single.
They try to make sense of things together. They've been together in this, in a way. They can't exactly explain the situation to anyone else. Buck loves a project, so he asks Tommy if he needs help with the whole coming out of the closet thing. Tommy says no, at first, but after thinking it over, he wouldn't mind the support. Buck thoroughly researches gay bars and finds what he considers is the best one.
A lot of revelations happen in that gay bar. No one is more surprised than Buck. They have fun, at first, but with every guy that approaches Tommy, Buck gets more wound up. He doesn't know Tommy that well, but he knows Tommy can do better – Tommy deserves better. Buck is too busy guarding Tommy, he doesn't notice the attention he's getting himself.
They've hardly had anything to drink, when Tommy herds them back out the door. Buck is ranting about the state of things, making sweeping generalisations about gay people and LA's nightlife, when Tommy asks if he wants to head back to his place. Buck looks at him, with those eyes of his, and says yes.
They share a beer in the kitchen, the air between them too charged to sit down. Months of knowing each other from a distance culminate in a clumsy and curious kiss. They both know all the reasons why Abby liked each of them, but they don't know each other like that, not yet. Buck can't believe how right it feels to kiss another man. How good it feels to be wrapped in Tommy's arms. Tommy is overwhelmed by how uncomplicated it is. He doesn't have to convince himself he likes it.
Tommy has complicated feelings about having sex in the bed he bought with Abby – a bed he knows Buck has shared with her, too – but his feelings for Buck aren't complicated at all.
what if buck drops into subspace the moment tommy raises his voice or sounds a little stern, and that's the reason why they never talked about anything serious
leather daddy is getting a full length (it was always going to, but the feedback has me squirmy and inspired)
Tommy sat up. Buck missed him instantly. Tommy shook out his hands, rubbed his face, then ran his fingers back through his hair.
”Alright, where's your lube?”
”In the–” Buck was still partially pinned under Tommy, so he flapped his hand at the nightstand. ”Second from the top.”
Tommy crawled over him and pulled the drawer open. The force of it pulled the bottles forward, making them bang against the front. ”You weren't kidding,” Tommy said and looked at him. ”What do you need so many for?”
”Variety.” At Tommy's raised brow, his ears went hot. ”They feel different!”
Tommy laughed and grabbed one. ”So. Straight boy special?”
”Is that a thing?”
”I get you off with my hands and you can say you've been with a man.”
Buck frowned. ”You mean a handjob? Tommy.” Buck grabbed his belt and yanked him forward. Tommy had to catch himself on his hands. ”You're going inside of me.”
Tommy latches on to Buck's chaos on day one. He thought you had to be in the military to encounter this level of crazy - he would know, he was there. Buck is obviously a talented guy, somewhere underneath, but Tommy thrives on it. He's been watching himself so closely under all the captains they've had, but now he has Bobby and Buck. He allows himself to let a little loose.
Since breaking up with Abby, he has been keeping up a string of fake girlfriends. No one has met any of these women, but they know Tommy is a private guy, so they don't press.
But Buck does.
Tommy ☝️ You have presented contradictory information to me. Last week you said this, now you're saying this. Which is it?
No more fake girlfriends for Tommy. Instead of digging himself out, he digs deeper. Comes up with some elaborate lie to explain the contradictions and why he didn't just say they broke up. Something about his pride or some such.
Buck accidentally ragebaits Tommy out of the closet. They're both upset about it, but Buck's an ally and Tommy's too attached to the guy to be angry. And neither one of them used the word gay, so he's got some wiggle room there.
He'd been to gay bars before, both on purpose and accidentally. This one was an accident. It looked perfectly normal from the outside. Maybe there was stuff on the walls to indicate what kind of establishment it was, but the light was too low to see. The other patrons were dressed – maybe an excess of leather jackets, but again, the light was low.
It was his second bar of the night. The first one wasn't a vibe at all. Buck was having a nice time, sitting by himself and people watching. When the lack of women started to sink in, it was already too late.
A very handsome older man approached his table and started talking. Buck liked to talk, so that was fine. But then came another. And another. Soon his table was crowded and he wasn't sure who was talking to who. It got overstimulating very fast.
Right before he started to panic, he felt hands on his shoulders. ”Give the kid some air, yeah?” The whole table erupted, but the guy at his back stood firm. Before he knew what was happening, the guy had him by the armpits and pulled him to his feet.
Buck was led to the bar, by firm hands, and deposited on a barstool. ”Hints are a foreign concept to these guys, you gotta be rude about it,” his rescuer said. ”What were you having?”
Buck turned and looked, but his abandoned glass wasn't visible. The guys didn't seem too torn up about him leaving. ”Uh, beer?”
”I'll get you another one,” he said and patted Buck on the back.
”I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I– ” He got a good look at the guy who just manhandled him. He didn't look dissimilar to the others. Big guy, a little older, broad in every sense of the term.
”Don't worry about it. Once they smell blood in the water, you're out of luck,” he smiled. ”I'm Tommy.”
”I'm– ” Oh, dear god, he couldn't introduce himself as Buck at a gay bar. ”I'm Evan.”
”Hi, Evan. First time here?”
Buck laughed a little and looked around, before sitting properly at the bar. ”First time,” he nodded.
”New to the lifestyle?” Tommy asked, and pushed a glass into his hands. ”You have that look about you.”
He had to bite his tongue, before his mouth had the chance to ask if he looked gay. ”What– What lifestyle is that?”
Tommy's eyes were twinkling. ”You're in a leather bar, kid.” He pointedly gave Buck an up and down look.
Maybe the lightwash jeans had been a bad choice. He squirmed a little. ”I didn't know.”
”Bring a friend next time. I might not be here to save you from the daddies.”
Instead of turning around, Buck looked at the mirror behind the bar. Daddies. The men looked nice enough, but it was a lot, all at once. Flattering, though.
”You're not a daddy?”
Tommy laughed. ”You got me there.”
”Sounds like I'm not safe with you either,” he grinned.
”I guess that depends – do you want to be?”
Buck gulped half of his beer, before even attempting to answer that.
Tommy interpreted his hesitation as something else. ”They're alright. They wouldn't have hurt you. Most of them have partners at home, they just enjoy the chase.”
Buck licked his lips. ”And you?”
Tommy's glass halted halfway to his mouth. ”Me, what?”
”Why are you here?”
”Beats drinking at home,” he smiled, but it fell short of his eyes.
He didn't know what it was, but something about Tommy made him want to be honest. ”I didn't– I didn't know this was a gay bar,” Buck said. ”I was walking by and it looked nice enough. I didn't come here on purpose.”
Tommy looked at him for a beat. His eyes specifically, which was tough to endure. Tommy's smile went a little tighter.
Buck was desperate to return to the ease of just a moment ago. ”Do– Do you have a partner at home?”
The smile went a little softer. ”If I did, I wouldn't be here.”
”Right.” Buck ducked his head. ”That makes sense.”
”Do you?”
”No,” he sighed – a bit too deep, judging by the height of Tommy's eyebrows. ”My friends keep telling me I need to figure out how to be alone,” he explained. ”Which is stupid, because I've been alone my whole life. I know how to do it.”
Tommy's eyeline shifted from Buck's face, to a distant point behind him. ”Nothing wrong with wanting to have someone.”
It was a bit too maudlin to share with a stranger, but Buck found himself saying, ”I want someone to choose me, you know? And keep choosing me.”
”I do,” Tommy said softly.
”I don't think that's a crazy thing to ask – or to want.”
”It's not.”
Buck moved his glass around on the bar top. He didn't really feel like drinking anymore. ”Is the gay dating scene better than the straight one?”
”God, no,” Tommy grimaced. ”No.”
”So jumping ship would be a bad idea?”
”Well,” Tommy thought on it, then shook his head. ”No, I can't in good conscience recommend dating men.”
Buck laughed. ”Maybe it'd be easier. It's not like I haven't thought about it.”
”…About dating men?”
Buck shrugged. Why wouldn't he have thought about that? ”Being the same gender is a big thing to have in common.”
Tommy looked bewildered. ”I thought you said you were straight?”
”I didn't say it, I implied it.”
”Are you?”
Buck looked at him for a second. His face, then his shoulders, his arms, his hands. Tommy shifted and Buck's eyes fell to his thighs. ”If the answer was yes, I probably shouldn't have hesitated, right?”
”My eyes are up here.”
Buck's eyes snapped up. ”I was looking at your thighs, I promise.”
Tommy giggled. ”That's the gayest fucking thing you could've said.”
Buck's face was burning hot, but he was making Tommy laugh, so it wasn't all bad. ”How are thighs a gay thing?”
Tommy shook his head. ”You are surprisingly comfortable flirting with men.”
Buck looked at the table of daddies. ”I think it's just you.”
It was Tommy's turn to blush. ”Evan, are you leading me on?”
”Leading on implies a lack of follow through.” He bit his lip. It was a nervous thing, but Tommy didn't seem to see it that way.
Tommy put his head in his hand. ”Evan. I can't bring a straight boy home. I'm too old for that.”
An hour ago, he hadn't considered having sex with a man. An hour ago, he hadn't met Tommy.
”We could go to my place?”
Tommy looked at him through his fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment and faced straight ahead. Buck wasn't sure what he was doing, but he didn't want to interrupt. He jumped a little when Tommy's hand clamped down on his thigh.
Tommy leaned into his space and asked, ”And do what?”
Buck went a little breathless. The hand was already high up, but he wanted it higher. ”You're the daddy,” he said. ”Means you're in charge, right?” Tommy's fingers dug into his inner thigh.
”I need you to tell me what you're doing.”
There was barely space between them, but Buck leaned in closer. ”You made me curious.” One of Tommy's eyebrows went up. ”Besides,” he told Tommy's mouth. ”It's not like I haven't been pegged before.”
”Willingly?”
”I asked for it. Begged for it, actually. There was this article I read and I couldn't get it out of my head.”
”And?”
”I liked it more than she did.”
Tommy shook his head. ”Enjoying anal and being into men are two separate things.”
”I'm not talking about men, I'm talking about you.” The hand on his thigh was starting to feel like a tourniquet. There was a small furrow between Tommy's eyebrows. Buck couldn't tell why it was there.
”It's mean to lead an old man on.”
Buck put his hand on top of Tommy's. ”You can't be that much older than me.”
”Don't do this to me.”
”What am I doing to you?” Tommy huffed. ”What am I doing to you, Tommy?” Buck asked again, but lower. Buck wasn't insistent. If someone needed him to convince them, they clearly weren't feeling it – but Tommy's hesitation felt different. ”Come home with me.”
”Evan–”
”I don't know what I'm doing, but I'll try so hard, I promise.”
When Tommy leaned in, Buck knew he was trying to scare him, to call his bluff, but Tommy wasn't the aggressor here. Buck met him more than halfway. Tommy's surprised little mm! was almost drowned out by wolf whistles.
Someone yelled, ”Get it, Kinard!” and Tommy pulled back abruptly. He glared at the guy, but he was flushed all the way down his neck.
”Shut your mouth, Dennis!”
Buck got a hand around the back of Tommy's neck, so he could pull him back in. They weren't done kissing.
Tommy closed his eyes and took a measured breath. ”Why?”
”Met this girl over the weekend. We haven't hooked up yet, but she called me daddy over text. I don't know how I feel about it.”
They were working over the weekend. Tommy had no idea how Buckley had managed to find a girl in that time.
”It's happened to me, yeah,” Tommy muttered.
”Did you like it?”
”I did.”
”Makes sense. You look like a daddy.”
Tommy kept his mouth shut. He could tell Buckley was about to press for more, but the tones went off, saving both of them.
Tommy needed to transfer and get the fuck away from these people. Buckley, in particular. If the kid survived his probationary period, he was going to be a real fucking problem. He wasn't a bad guy, per se, everything he did just happened to drive Tommy up the fucking wall.
Like calling their captain pops. Good childhoods didn't give people daddy issues, but at least most of them had the decorum to not wave them around in public.
He'd had a rough start, but the rest of A-shift were starting to come around. Except Tommy. Tommy knew it made him look like an asshole, especially in Hen and Howie's eyes, but he couldn't shove it down far enough. Something about Buckley just rattled him. The kid was too observant for his own good. It wasn't a bad trait to have in their line of work, but Tommy couldn't handle it.
Been wondering how to share this idea, as I haven't written much of it yet, but I'm gonna give it a go. It's the Age Gap AU from my wip post. In its current state, it's almost wholesome, which I don't necessarily want it to be (I very much do not want it to be wholesome).
Buck is forty, Tommy is seventeen. They meet on a call. Tommy's mom fucked off recently and she was the one making sure his dad didn't kill himself. Without her, shit goes off the rails. Tommy refuses to become his mom's replacement and doesn't stop him. The guy is an idiot, an asshole, and a heavy drinker. The 118 respond to calls from the house, over the course of a couple of months. Buck is on track to become captain and is being groomed by Bobby to take his place when he retires. Buck takes point on a lot of the easier calls, to get a feel for the responsibility.
For a while the Kinard house is Buck's thing. Sometimes Tommy is there, sometimes he isn't. When he is, he stays out of the way and only answers questions when it's important. He makes it known that he doesn't care if his father lives or dies, but Buck can tell it isn't true. The first couple of times they meet, Buck thinks Tommy is older. Buck, in all his professionalism, says oh fuck when Tommy mentions high school.
Something awful is clearly going on at the house, but the 118 haven't personally witnessed anything and it's clear neither Tommy nor his father is willing to talk. The 118 do their job and leave.
It's not unusual for certain calls to stay with them. Tommy stays with Buck. They're called to the house every few weeks, and Buck feels powerless every time. As stoic as he's trying to be, it's clear Tommy is suffering. At a loss for what else to do, Buck offers him his phone number. Tommy takes it, but Buck doesn't expect to hear from him.
Tommy doesn't call, he shows up at the firehouse. He shows up at the ass crack of dawn, before Buck is on shift. A couple of people from C-shift try to talk to him, but Tommy is there for Buck, no one else. When Buck shows up for his shift, he manages to convince Tommy to come inside for breakfast. Buck tries to channel Bobby's demeanor; supportive but not demanding or judgemental. Tommy doesn't share anything of substance. The bruise on his jaw says more than his words. When Tommy heads out, Buck doesn't feel like he's done anything worthwhile. Hen disagrees. She asks him what it would've been like if a single adult had regarded him as an equal, when Buck was seventeen.
The calls continue to come. Minor accidents, most of the time. Buck calls Dispatch, to hear if anyone else has been responding, but they haven't. All the calls have gone to them. The first responder superstitions take root at curious times. Buck tries to convince himself that it's simply a coincidence. He does everything he can, to let Tommy know he's a safe person.
The visits to the firehouse also continue. Tommy never asks him about his schedule and occasionally shows up when Buck isn't there. Sometimes he waits, sometimes he doesn't. Things slowly escalate over time. Buck is invested in ways he shouldn't be. Every time they're at the damn house, he's desperately searching for something he can report. Tommy knows, too. He carefully never mentions anything Buck can use.
Tommy's plan is to ride it out, he'll be eighteen eventually. Buck isn't sure he can wait that long.
still don't know where this is going. picks up where this one left off.
(word count is 2k again)
The stormfront hit on his day off. He watched the torrential downpour from the relative comfort of his bed. The pain in his leg wasn't too bad.
Hopefully the rain would help with the wildfires.
As he lay there, trying to convince himself to get up, he picked up his phone. In the throes of his early grief, he'd found a dinky little questionnaire aimed at teenagers. A depression assessment with ten questions. The possible outcomes ranged from you're doing good to you should talk to a trusted adult.
As he filled out his answers, he wondered what the criteria was for being a trusted adult. The familiar frowny smiley greeted him, when he tapped submit.
Trusted was the part he got hung up on. What did it mean to trust someone. He trusted people in limited ways. His colleagues to keep him safe on the job. He trusted Maddie with practical stuff. Watering his plants and a spare key to his house.
Tommy was the only person who had shown up for him, no questions asked.
He opened his contacts and scrolled down to Tommy. The contact photo was unchanged. Tommy asleep, with a sunburn across his nose.
Buck looked out the window, at the rain coming down in sheets. Tommy got migraines sometimes, especially in low-pressure sytems.
He thumbed the button and held the phone to his ear. The line rang a handful of times.
”Kinard.”
”Hi, Tommy.”
”Evan?”
”Yeah, it's me. Migraine?” He probably hadn't looked at the screen.
Tommy sighed. ”Yeah, but it's not the storm. Was assaulted on scene last night.”
Buck winced. It happened all too often. ”Badly?”
”No, it was alright, but it triggered a migraine.”
”What happened?”
”Drunk driver. Guess he was unhappy with my services.”
”You home?”
”In bed, yeah. Doctor's orders. You?”
”Day off, but me, too.”
”Lucky break. How's your leg?”
”It's alright. Not too bad.”
Both of them were quiet for a bit.
”You OK?”
”Yeah, why?”
”Your voice sounds … off.”
Tears welled in his eyes. He muted the phone, rubbed his eyes roughly and sniffed hard to clear his nose. He tapped the mute button again. ”Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired.”
”Insomnia?”
”I guess, yeah. Don't get a lot of deep sleep. I wake up a lot.” He turned it around before Tommy could pry, ”Am I aggravating your migraine?”
”No, you're fine. Had an aura last night, but it's gone now. I'm just being careful. Did you ever see a doctor about it? The sleep issues.”
Buck turned over, putting the window at his back. He'd never been great with doctors, which was only made worse by all the events Tommy didn't know about.
”Uh, no,” the words audibly stuck in his throat. ”Been busy. You know how it is.”
”Evan–”
”I'm OK, I'm just tired.” He took a shaky breath. ”I'm so fucking tired, Tommy.” Buck was pretty good at keeping things at arm's length, when he wanted to, but with Tommy's voice in his ear, his resolve began to crumble. He was tired down to his bones. His leg was alright for now, but if it really started hurting, there was nothing he could do. He'd burned through the pain meds left over from his surgeries. They'd been out of date and he didn't know he still had any, but he'd been desperate. If he was lucky, paracetamol and ibuprofen together might take the edge off. It was part of the reason why he was in bed. If he didn't put weight on it, he couldn't feel it.
The wind changed direction, making the rain pelt the windows. Tommy's silence was making him anxious.
”I saw you at the warehouse fire. The other week.”
”I saw you, too.”
”You did?”
”You're a big boy, you're hard to miss.”
The joke fell flat, but Buck laughed a little. It wasn't true. The LAFD was full of big guys. In full turnouts, they were near indistinguishable. There was a woman with the 122 that was bigger than the both of them.
”The, uhm, the wildfires,” Buck said. ”You've been on wildfire duty?”
Tommy sighed. ”We don't have to do this.”
”Do what?”
”Whatever it is you wanna talk about, you can just say it. We don't have to talk about work.”
He felt scolded. That wasn't what Tommy did, but that was what it felt like. ”I should let you go,” he swallowed. ”It's probably better for your head anyway.”
”Evan–”
Buck hung up the phone. It was hard to breathe. The rain against the window pane sounded deafening.
His phone rang in his hand.
”Yeah?”
”You OK?” Tommy voice was low and steady.
He let the question hang in the air for a moment.
”No.”
”You're at Eddie's place, right?”
”No.” He covered his eyes. ”I moved.”
”Where?”
”'Bout twenty minutes from your place.”
”Send me your address.”
Buck sighed. It was a nice thought. ”You're not supposed to operate heavy machinery on your migraine meds.”
”I haven't taken anything since they dosed me at the hospital. I'm good to drive.”
”Tommy.”
”Evan.”
He pulled the phone from his ear and texted the address. ”You don't have to come.”
”I know.”
*
Tommy looked at the deadbolts on the front door, after closing it. ”Rough neighborhood?” he asked, as if he hadn't driven by blocks and blocks of front yards covered in toys and bicycles.
”You didn't have to come.” Tommy looked at him for a beat. His hair was damp. Buck could tell he was purposely keeping his eyes on his face, instead of doing a visual sweep of Buck's body. ”You shouldn't have come.” Tommy's face was bruised. A starburst of broken vessels from the centre of his face. ”You have two black eyes.”
”It's fine.”
No wonder he had a migraine. ”You should not have been driving.”
”Where's your bedroom?”
Buck felt his face heat up. ”It's, uh, it's through here.”
He stood there, lead weight in his gut, as he watched Tommy take in the hastily abandoned covers, still holding on to his body heat. He jumped when Tommy touched his back.
”Get back in.”
Buck didn't know what else to do, so he did. Tommy followed.
It was incredibly awkward lying there, side by side. Buck didn't know what to do; didn't know what he wanted. If he asked nicely, maybe Tommy would smother him and he didn't have to deal with any of this.
”Is it something specific or more of a general malaise?”
Buck blinked at him. ”Malaise?”
Tommy looked at him pointedly. ”With the way you live, it could literally be anything.”
”There was a hostage situation.”
”OK.”
”I was the hostage.”
”Jesus, Evan.” It happend fast. Tommy touched his face, then sat bolt upright. ”Fuck. Fucking–” The damage was already done, but Buck grabbed Tommy's hand from where it was hovering infront of him, pulling it away from his face and the bruising.
”Don't touch it.”
”I know that!” Tommy held still for a second, then exhaled. He pulled his hand out of Buck's grip. Buck watched him breathe through his mouth. ”If I need to vomit, where's the bathroom?”
”Across the hall. Are you gonna be sick?”
”I can't tell.” Tommy took an extra deep breath. ”Probably not. I usually have to force myself.”
”To vomit?” Buck frowned.
”Migraines. Sometimes you just need to puke and they go away.”
”That … doesn't sound right.”
”You'd have a field day on the Subreddit.”
”Are you concussed? Let me see your eyes.”
”I'm not concussed, they checked.”
”Look at me anyway.” Tommy turned his head. He was squinting, but his pupils looked about the same. For a second, he saw his own face overlayed on top of Tommy's, like a double exposure. ”Want an ice pack?”
”If you've got one, yeah.”
Buck didn't run out of there, but it was close. He shouldn't have made that phone call. He should've told Tommy no.
He dug an ice pack out of the freezer and found a hand towel. For a second, he put the naked ice pack over his eyes and held it there. The cold hurt his forehead.
Back in the bedroom, Tommy was lying down, still breathing through his mouth. He wrapped the ice pack and handed it over. Tommy groaned softly, as he pressed it to his eyes.
”Alright, explain the hostage thing.”
Buck went into the hall and made sure the bathroom door was wide open, before getting back into bed. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it.
He used the wording from the police report, explained it as clinically and detached as possible. When he was done, Tommy raised the ice pack.
”The riffle, did it break anything?” He surveyed Buck's face, as if he could still spot the damage.
”No, it was just a lot of bruising. Why?”
He pointed to his own eye. ”Got a hairline in the orbital, when it happened to me.”
”When were you – oh, right. Army.”
”Army,” Tommy confirmed.
”Anyway,” Buck cleared his throat. ”Speaking of. They gave me oxy, at the hospital.”
The ice pack didn't make it back to his eyes. Tommy's arm went slack, the bundle coming to rest on his chest. ”Why the fuck would they do that?”
”I didn't ask.”
”Fuck, Evan.”
”Been clean for a while now,” he felt the need to say.
Tommy looked devastated. ”Your leg, how do you– Oh, honey. I'm so sorry.”
Buck turned his face toward the window, so he didn't have to see it. The reassurances were fighting each other, trying to get past his lips, but he stubbornly bit them back. Lying to Tommy wasn't going to fix anything.
The sheets suddenly felt sweaty. The smell, the taste of detox sat in the back of his throat.
Tommy's fingers were freezing and stiff, as they found Buck's. Buck squeezed as hard as he could.
”They came here,” he managed to get out. ”All of them. They were here. I've never felt so fucking alone. They were wiping my face and making sure I didn't puke on the floor, or die in my sleep, and I've never felt so fucking alone.”
Tommy's arms came around him and Buck hated the way his body responded to it. Tommy gently urged him around and into his embrace. His body was shaking with it, but he refused to sob infront of him. He cried as quiet as he could, tucked up under Tommy's chin.
”They raided my fucking house. I told them I didn't have anything left and they didn't trust me.”
Tommy's cold hand squeezed the back of his neck. His skin felt burning hot. ”You didn't deserve that,” Tommy said into the top of his head, ”any of it.”
