AU where Tommy and Evan are about the same age, and join the Academy at the same time.
Evan clocks the haunted look in Tommy's eyes and sticks to him like a limpet. On day one, he introduces himself as Evan, Evan Buckley. Tommy, who is still on military time, grunts Kinard and wonders, why are you being vulnerable with me right now? He's used to last names, nicknames and call signs. Evan has never met a stray he didn't love, and Tommy is too baffled by the kindness and sunshine to cut him off.
They're about evenly paced, with wildly different personalities.
Tommy and Evan are in similar living situations. Evan is at the frat house, Tommy is at a vet house. Not an official one, but one that's known in certain circles. A guy from his unit hooked him up.
They're an odd pair, which is something that's commented on a lot. Evan is drawn to the younger recruits, Tommy is drawn to the older ones. Evan talks constantly, Tommy doesn't talk at all.
Every weekend Tommy has to remind himself it's a weekend and not leave. He needs to be able to function come Monday, but it's harder than it sounds. Hangovers are far from the worst thing to work around. He pukes between drills, but it's fine, his body is a machine. At least there's no sand here. Anakin Skywalker was onto something. Tommy has always hated the beach.
Toward the end of the Academy, when the captains start hanging around, Evan gets a lot of attention. He's been breaking records left and right, and clearly has what it takes. Skill wise, Tommy is about the same, but he doesn't push himself the way Evan does. Tommy is used to the power structure, and doing things he doesn't want to do. He's the kind of obedient that's sought after.
The 118 are still short-staffed after cleaning the house post Captain Gerrard, so both Evan Overachiever Buckley and Thomas Torment Nexus Kinard go to the 118. Evan on A-shift, Tommy on C-shift.
The friendship would have fizzled out, if Evan was capable of taking a hint. Everyone calls him Buck, but Tommy still calls him Buckley. Evan assures him it's OK, he doesn't have to do that anymore, but Tommy just blinks at him. He calls everyone by their last names, it's efficient. Evan thinks Tommy is the funniest person in the world. Tommy doesn't get that either.
Captain Nash manages to take Evan down several notches. Tommy gets a handle on the alcohol consumption. The probationary period changes both of them, in various different ways. They manage to meet up about once a week. Evan has a new existential crisis every week. He tells Tommy he's a great listener. Tommy isn't so sure about that.
They're each other's emergency contact. The first time Evan lands in the hospital, Tommy is in the visitor seat. Same thing happens when it's Tommy's turn. Tommy hates the frat house. Evan hates the vet house. They make a deal to find a place together, if they make it through their probationary period.
They're there for each other, through the losses and the setbacks.
Tommy never tells Evan not to do something, all Tommy does is stick around. When something inevitably goes wrong, Tommy is there. It doesn't feel like anything, doesn't take any effort. To Evan it's everything.
Tommy thought he had a handle on things, but the longer he's been out, the more feelings come to the surface. He lashes out. Evan never tells him not to. Sometimes he just listens, other times he finds something for them to do; something destructive or something that tires them out. Evan reminds Tommy that he's a person. It doesn't feel like anything, it doesn't take effort at all. Tommy is pretty sure he would have done something drastic, if he didn't have Evan.
They pin each other's shields and find a house together. The place barely has running water, but Evan's credit is shit and Tommy has lived in a tent. It's perfect. Evan has the confidence of a man in his twenties, and Tommy is all too happy to sit back and see what happens.
It will take them the better part of a decade to get the house in order, but neither one of them is in a hurry. Neither one of them are in contact with their families. Evan hooks up on the regular, but he never brings them to the house. Tommy doesn't date or hookup, so there is no one to bring around. The state of the house doesn't matter, as long as the two of them are comfortable.
They sleep in the same bed from the moment they move in. At first, the living room is the only room that's suitable to be in, so they get a mattress to share. With their shift work, they get the bed to themselves often enough. When one of the bedrooms is good enough to sleep in, they move the mattress in there. By the time the second bedroom is good to go, it feels weird to get a second mattress. Evan is the one who's most reluctant to get one.
One night in bed, Tommy tells him he's gay. In the privacy of his own head, he can admit he does it to scare Evan off, and make him get that second mattress. It doesn't work. Evan looks at him softly and asks about it. Tommy has never told another living soul about any of it. He can't remember a time where he didn't know he was into men. Evan, curious as ever, ask what it's like, asks what Tommy's attraction looks like. Tommy gives him a rambling reply, that's halfway poetic, halfway nonsensical.
Evan has a private moment of his own. He recognises it. What Tommy describes, Evan recognises it in himself. But this is Tommy's moment, so he doesn't share it.
The next day, he buys a second mattress.
Tommy is confused about it. And confused about his own confusion. He wanted Evan to have his own bed and now he does. They get through a week of weird tension, that they can't work on because they're not home at the same time. When they finally have twenty-four hours together, Evan admits he slept in Tommy's bed, because he couldn't fall asleep in his own. Tommy did the same, but he struggles to admit it. Instead, he shrugs and tells Evan to come back, if he sleeps better.
That night, Evan spoons him like he's done a million times before, except this time, he wiggles under Tommy's blankets to do it. Tommy goes rigid, like Evan figured he would. Evan tucks his face between Tommy's shoulderblades and goes to sleep.
In the morning, Tommy extricates himself from the tangle of Evan's limbs, to get ready for work. He freezes in the door of the bedroom, when Evan calls after him. ”Come home to me.” Tommy doesn't turn around, doesn't say anything. He gets ready and heads to the station. In his car, it spins around and around in his head. It was a silly thing to say, because the next time they see each other won't be at home, but when A-shift takes over from C-shift.
It's been an easy shift, so when Evan pulls into the lot, Tommy is ready to leave. Tommy stands around, semi awkwardly, duffel over his shoulder. He's freshly showered and everything. The shift was that boring. Evan walks up to him with his own duffel, smiling and nervous as all hell. He's putting on a cocky face, but Tommy has known that face for years, knows it like the back of his hand.
He's had twenty-four hours to come up with a line, but he's got nothing. They stand around for a second, just looking at each other. ”Stay safe,” is what tumbles out of Tommy's mouth. The brave smile on Evan's face falls away. He swallows audibly. ”I will.” They linger for a moment longer, not touching, not saying anything.
Tommy heads home and deep cleans the house instead of sleeping. Evan walks face first into a streetlight on shift and dreads having to explain why he did that.
They're both wild around the eyes – and bruised, in Evan's case – when Evan comes home. Tommy smells like vinegar. Evan smells like sweat.
”What part of stay safe did you not understand?”
Sheepish, Evan gestures wildly and says, ”Apparently I can't do that and think about you at the same time.”
They're standing infront of each other, in the house they're quite literally building together, both thinking, if this blows up in my face, I have nowhere to go.
Evan moves first, because it has to be Evan. They both know it has to be. It doesn't matter how much Tommy wants something, he won't take it. He touches Tommy's face, with a reverence he's never felt before. When Tommy fucked up his wrist, Evan helped him shave, and he was careful, but not like this. No, this is much more dangerous than razors against arteries, because Tommy looks scared. In all the time they've known each other, Evan has never seen him scared. Tommy's hands hover somewhere in the vicinity of Evan's lower back. He can almost feel the heat transfer, from those big, capable hands.
Tommy closes his eyes before Evan kisses him. Evan looks at him and keeps looking at him, as he presses his lips to Tommy's mouth. Tommy's hands are shaking, when Evan feels them on his body. He closes his eyes and presses forward, fingers cradling Tommy's face. He moans, because it feels good. Tommy is warm and solid and right here; still scared out of his mind, but he's here.
Something shifts and suddenly Evan is being held like he's never been held before. Tommy's arms go tight around his ribs, they're pressed together from their heads to their knees, trying not to step on each other's feet. A breathless ”Evan” is exhaled between them and Evan suddenly feels like he's about to cry. He's scared, too, but underneath it all, Tommy has been the only constant in his life, the only person who sees him as he is and has made no efforts to change him. Hasn't sneered or rolled his eyes or laughed or given him the silent treatment. And OK, Tommy has called him stupid, but only when it was warrented and he didn't leave afterwards.
”I like you so much,” Evan says, because he can't not say it. ”You're so important to me.”
Neither one of them are good at talking, so Tommy nods and says, ”Me, too.”
All the walls in their house are different colours, because they can't agree on anything. Neither of the beds have bedframes, which is bad for both them and the mattresses, but they flip them as often as they remember. Evan is getting pretty good at cooking and writes a meal plan every week, and sticks it on the fridge. The backyard looks like a scrap heap and there's suspiciously fat looking cat living in it, that they've been trying to get inside for weeks. Tommy makes sure Evan's Jeep keeps running, and calls anyone who wrongs Evan an asshole, whether it's warrented or not. Evan has been looking into therapy resources for vets, and Tommy loves him more than he's ever loved anything, even if he can't say it.
”I mean it, Tommy, I do.”
”I know,” Tommy says and kisses him again. ”I know you do,” because being heard, being believed is what matters to Evan. Evan doesn't tell him things he doesn't mean, even when they fight. Sometimes the words come out in the wrong order, but Tommy stays until he gets them right, and no one has ever done that before.
They need to talk, really talk. They both want to – and they will – but Tommy pulls on him, and stumbles backwards, toward the bedroom.
”I haven't–” Evan says, as if Tommy doesn't already know.
”We'll figure it out.”
