tagged by @beanarie today and probably others recently 🫣
no pressure tagging @apollabarnes @leashybebes @setmeatopthepyre @trombonechurchill @corporatebanana @frogsinflannel @capitalnineteen @sad-girl-hours23 and anyone else with something to share!
hello 1930s circus au because I saw the stage play of water for elephants
“Main tent’s thatta way,” a stocky man with crossed arms said gruffly.
“We’re looking for your boss, we heard there might be work here.”
He appraised the two of them; Maddie could imagine what he was seeing, the pair she and Evan made with their one suitcase and travel worn clothes. The air tasted like dirt, or maybe it was just that that was all entered Maddie’s mouth all day as they walked through the crowded fairground. They hadn’t spent any of their previous little money on the food or drink on offer. She’d swear Evan had shot up another inch since they’d left Pennsylvania, or maybe he’d just finally worn the cuffs on his pants down to nothing.
“No work,” the man said again. “Tent’s thatta way.”
“Now, listen—” Evan started, before Maddie put a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you for your time,” Maddie said politely. “Evan, let’s go and see the show.”
Evan scowled at the man, but let Maddie lead him away, one hand wrapped around their suitcase handle.
“He wasn’t even the boss, what’s he know?” Evan complained when they were out of earshot.
“No point getting upset, or getting people upset at you,” Maddie said firmly, ignoring the pangs her stomach made as some sort of roasted meat scent floated across the air. “And you’re right, he’s not the boss. Doesn’t mean we can’t ask someone who might be a little… friendlier.”
Evan grumbled but didn’t say anything. She could see his nose twitch at the scent of the roasted meat too.
lain I'm thinking of bucktommy camping where they both went to the wilderness to escape real life and they both were like "ugh 🙄" when they're the only 2 people on one island (strangers? post breakup? both work in different ways imo) and they avoid each other pretty well, considering. until one night buck is jerking off and thinking he so sly and slick and silent and yeah he's absolutely thinking of some big burly..... someone coming into his tent and just taking advantage 🙂↕️ and finally tommy is like "oh my god!!! do you need a hand there, kid?" and it's quiet enough that tommy is sure buck has stopped and went to sleep until a wavering voice calls out in the night "what do you mean, need a hand?" and tommy stumbles over roots the whole way over to buck's tent
Kathy......Kathy Kathy Kathy the joy I felt upon looking at this ask. And it only increased with every word I read !!!
This is. Sooooo so great strangers and post breakup both have their merits but I am in a strangers mood. I think Buck drops his carefully selected firewood in a puddle when he catches Tommy bending over to pound in a tent peg. I think Tommy teases Buck about his set up being too elaborate to be considered "real" camping and then moans when he tastes the cake Buck is able to make using his cast iron cauldron.
And then you know when Tommy does lend a hand it's sweet and gentle and he's being soooo so nice and yeah a little mean but in a nice way and then after Buck sighs and Tommy is like what ?(worried) and Buck is like. Can....can you pretend that I don't know you're here next time?? And Tommy's brain spends at least a full minute rebooting and then Buck is furiously apologizing and Tommy finally squeaks out a "yes" and then they next night :)))))) well :))))) it's a good thing they are the only two on the island that's all ill say.
My battery is dying, and I was tagged by some people recently. Here is some more of the ever increasingly problematic age gap fic.
Tommy beeps the horn on his car lightly to get their attention, and rolls down one of his tinted windows. The girl jumps, startled by the sudden noise, but Evan's whole face lights up when he meets Tommy's eyes.
"You called for a ride?" Tommy calls out across the passenger seat, grin of his own on his face at the sight of how quickly Evan's forgotten about his companion.
"It's nice that your uncle is able to come pick you up," the girl comments, peering past Evan to get a look at Tommy.
Evan must have mentioned his family not being local, because the girl has taken in the greying at Tommy's temples and the crows feet at the corners of his eyes and jumped to the erroneous conclusion that Tommy's relation to Evan is still familial.
"Uh, Vanessa, this is Tommy," Evan provides as introduction, not clarifying the error in her assumption. It's an interesting choice. Evan realizes his mistake, swallowing before he continues. "And Tommy, this is Vanessa, she's in my Communications course."
"Pleasure to meet you." Tommy turns up the charm, leaning over the center consol so he can get a better look at the girl. She's pretty, and if he were twenty years younger and attracted to girls, he might be able to see the appeal. She blushes at the attention, giving a nervous laugh before her eyes are darting over to Evan, both flattered and borderline uncomfortable.
No pressure tagging @chimneyschewinggum @chemistry66 @emakataken @corporatebanana @thecarrott @thegingerparty
tagged by @bidisasterevankinard, mwah! no pressure tagging @thegingerparty, @letsdosciencetoit, @corporatebanana, @queerasbuck and @queermccoy
here's a little more of the current buddietommy obsession. gonna pop this straight under a cut for nsfw reasons
They're so good about making him cum more than once. Tonight, they took turns jerking him off, letting him learn the different feels of their hands, and he came for the first time before they'd even started opening him up. The second time was with three of Evan's fingers in his ass, and Eddie kissing him, messy and slow and deep and just how Tommy likes it.
He's so greedy to want even more. To be lying between them in their marital bed, wide awake and rock hard, desperate. He waits until he knows it's not going away on its own and then he slips out of bed. He picks up a pair of Eddie's boxers and one of Evan's work t-shirts and slides into them. When he looks back before slipping out of the room, they've already filled the gap he left, their arms around each other.
In the bathroom, he shoves his hand into the borrowed boxers and squeezes. His dick feels overheated, sensitive at the head. His balls ache, he can feel his hole clenching and clutching at nothing as he fucks his fist. He's so greedy. Imagines one of them finding him like this. Bending him over the counter, holding him up by the hair to force him to hold eye contact with himself in the mirror while they fuck him fast and ruthless and efficient.
"Fuck me," he begs in a tiny whisper. It still feels too loud, too risky, so he grabs the hem of his borrowed t-shirt and lifts it, shoving it into his mouth and biting down. When he sucks in a breath through the material, the taste is pure Evan. It's so good it makes Tommy lightheaded.
He squeezes his cock, presses his thumb hard against the head just like Eddie always does to him. God, he just wants more of them. He's so fucking greedy. He's such a slut for them. He'd spend every day naked and slicked up in their bed if they wanted him to, just waiting for one of them to come by and fuck him. They could tie him down if they wanted. He'd let them put a collar on him and lead him around on a leash if they'd just fuck him again and again, fill him with their cum until he feels like they're a part of him, like he belongs to them. He remembers Evan teasing Eddie about bringing home strays, and he is, he knows he is, he doesn't care if he's just the mutt they brought home one day, as long as they just let him, let him, let him stay.
WOW, this took way longer than i thought it would. i forgot how to write, and then decided i could no longer write :)
here's PART TWO -- or the aftermath -- of buck and tommy's disastrous first date, this time from tommy's POV.
(PART ONE is here) and here is @sad-girl-hours23's original post that inspired both of these ficlets!
thanks for letting me play in this sandbox, jess <3
*****
To describe the inside of Tommy's new house as 'sparse' would be like describing the Sahara as 'kinda dry' or his savings as 'pretty low'. To describe Tommy's new living situation as uncomfortable would only be accurate if, wandering around his new 2 bed, 1 bath Craftsman, you were unable to look beyond the lack of furniture and decor to see a man taking his first real breath in years.
And as Tommy leans back in his deck chair in front of his 80 inch flat-screen that he can't mount because his living room wall is too unstable he reminds himself that it's all ok, because this is mine and it's not going anywhere. He reaches down into the cooler he's been using as a footrest, right to the bottom where the iciest beers are, and fishes one out. He props his bare feet back up as he pops the cap, uncaring where it lands.
That's a tomorrow problem, just like everything else.
Tonight, it's just him, his snacks, and whatever he can zone out to on TV.
After hopping around, Tommy settles on While You Were Sleeping. It's a film he's seen more than enough times, but never like this. For one thing, it's the wrong time of year — the twinkling lights on Lucy's Christmas tree are a reminder to put himself down to work the holidays again this year, rather than something that sparks anticipation and excitement for his first Christmas in his own home.
Tommy used to think it was sweet — endearing, even — how Lucy tangled herself up in such a crazy lie and, in the end, was rewarded with an unexpected love… but the laughs that used to ring out while he watched her fall deeper and deeper in lies and love have been replaced by a tightness in his chest, and the bitter memory of a lying, beautiful idiot who managed to turn to the best date Tommy had ever been on into one a stand-up comic could turn into a career defining bit.
Why depress himself with a rom-com when he can fall into a pit of despair by watching the news instead?
Tommy flips channels quickly and is greeted with rolling new coverage of yet another explosion. With multiple crews on scene, and a firefighter down, Tommy shoots a welfare check text into the work chat and keeps his phone close by as he watches the scene develop in ultra HD.
Preoccupied with his phone, Tommy missed the part where the reporter mentioned a firefighter trapped under an engine, and he definitely missed the part where she revealed that said firefighter was one the 118's very own. Not long ago Tommy was arranging a water drop to save them. Bobby's a great captain but shit, his house seems to be taking hit after hit.
He sits forward, totally absorbed by the scene unfolding on-screen. Flashing lights and shouting fill the gaps where the reporter runs out of commentary and Tommy finds himself hypnotised and unable to look away.
The camera shifts and zooms.
The screen fills with a shaky close up of a firefighter clinging to consciousness, his face rubbing against the grit beneath him as shards of glass glitter on top of a life-threatening amount of lost blood.
It's a scene Tommy's intimately familiar with; he thinks of his 1st Lieutenant who was laughing at a dirty joke minutes before he never laughed again, his body all twisted up in the wreckage of an Apache blown out of the sky.
Tommy shivers; another fallen brother writhes in front of him. His breath catches when, on a particularly ghoulish close up, the firefighter's face is revealed.
The burst of red above his eye isn't just blood, and Tommy couldn't tear his gaze from his blue eyes if he tried. If he knew the man's name, he'd call it out. If he could somehow break through the screen and into the chaos, he would.
Whatever bond they forged during the few hours they knew each other has strengthened beyond measure: how is it that this guy, who he hasn't been able to stop thinking about, who has ruined every date Tommy's been on since, should be a firefighter at the very house that Tommy left less than three years ago?
Tommy's never put much stock in fate but he's starting to think it might be time to.
The coverage rolls on, endless, continuing after a street full of people lift the fire engine off his long lost date's leg and paramedics bundle him into an ambulance.
Tommy pulls up the message he sent to Howie months ago when he promised to find some time for them to catch up in person and types out a quick hope your boy's ok before switching channels.
He settles on a documentary about Machu Picchu, partly because he doesn't know anything about it but mostly because he'd rather think about Mark's smile and eagerness to tell Tommy all about his adventures in Peru instead of the pain-stricken grimace he's become nauseatingly familiar with.
*
His name is Evan Buckley. Tommy learns that from the news.
Evan Buckley lives in an extremely nice building on Grand Street. Tommy learns that from Howie who probably should have questioned why Tommy was asking for Evan's address in the first place.
Howie calls Evan Buck. Tommy's itching to know why Evan spends his life hiding behind any name that isn't his own.
Standing outside Evan's door, mouthing the words to a script he's nowhere near close to memorising, Tommy wonders who the hell he thinks he is turning up unannounced. He knocks gently — if Evan doesn't hear it then Tommy can take it as a sign that he's making a huge mistake and run a mile.
Rocking back on his heels for long enough to feel like an intruder, Tommy seriously considers walking away. Evan's injury is probably career ending and there's a pretty high chance they'll never cross paths again. He could end it here and spend the rest of his life regretting it.
Finally, when Tommy's thinking about high-tailing it down the hallway, there's a gentle shuffling on the other side of the door.
'Uhh,' comes a muffled voice, 'if you've come here to kick the shit out of me you should know a fire engine already beat you to it.'
'I come in peace.' Tommy waves at the peephole awkwardly. 'Can we talk?'
The lock clicks with noticeable hesitation and then, very cautiously, the door opens. On crutches and with dark circles under his eyes, Evan looks as beautiful as he did the night Tommy met him.
Or some version of him, anyway.
Evan turns away from the door, nimble on his crutches for a guy with a lot of leg to swing, and leaves Tommy to let himself in. He propels himself forward easily and props himself up on a bar stool to rest while Tommy eases the door shut.
Tommy should ask how Evan is, even though it's obvious. Quick as Evan is, he still looks worn out from walking to and from the door. What comes out instead is, 'Should I be worried that Howie calls you Buck? You don't have like, a secret, third identity, do you?'
Evan leans his crutches against the kitchen island. 'Should I be worried that you know Chimney?'
Tommy shrugs honestly. 'I don't know, should you?'
'Probably. He's dating my sister so he's probably got a ton of dirt on me.' Evan sighs. Despite only having met once, the distance between them feels unfamiliar. Tommy has only known Evan in close-up, both in person and on-screen. Now here he is in full view, vulnerable in a way Tommy assumed you saw after years knowing a person. 'How?' Evan prompts.
'We used to work together.' Tommy keeps his approach gentle. He takes a casual step forward and stops. 'At the 118. You probably took the spot I freed up when I moved to Harbour.'
'Oh.' Evan rubs the back of his neck, probably to soothe himself, but Tommy guesses he's been sleeping like shit, too, and is probably full of aches and pains from top to bottom. 'That's really cool. Weird, but cool. T-thank you, I guess. You kinda changed my life by leaving.'
'Kinda changed my own life, too.'
'There were three other Evan's at the academy.'
Tommy narrows his eyes. 'Ok?'
'That's why I go by Buck?'
'Oh!' At least someone's paying attention; Tommy's too preoccupied with the stubble darkening Evan's jaw. 'Got it.' He closes the space between them. He pulls out the bar stool next to Evan, careful not to drag it along Evan’s very nice floor, and perches there. He forces himself to look more relaxed than he feels, because there's a brittleness to Evan that wasn't there before, and Tommy doesn't want to be another person adding to his stress.
'I'm really sorry for lying,' Evan says and Tommy doesn't just know he is — he believes it, too. 'My name isn't Mark, obviously, and I've never even met a gym teacher but everything else I said is true.'
'Even the part about it being your first date with 'a dude'?'
'Especially that part.' Evan drops his head and winces. If he's in pain it isn't coming from his busted leg, but somewhere deep inside that Tommy wants to reach and learn how to soothe.
'Did you like it?'
'O-oh yeah, I mean — it was totally unexpected but I do that sometimes just… jump in, you know?'
'I'm starting to,' Tommy says honestly because he's only recently developed a taste for impulsivity. Buying a house in dire need of love he isn't yet skilled enough to give is just the first in a long line of decisions he'll make that will change the course of his life.
The other decision is fidgeting around next to him and desperately trying to find a more comfortable way to sit.
'Let me help,' Tommy says before he can second-guess himself. He stands and motions for Evan to put his arm around his shoulders so Tommy can help him to his feet. Evan doesn't hesitate to accept — he puts his arm around Tommy and hisses when his cast bumps Tommy's leg.
As they walk towards the couch, Tommy clocks that Evan's bed is a flight of stairs away. It doesn't bother him, the thought of Evan struggling up the stairs at night, but it does pull at something inside of him that reminds him that he'll be going home to an empty house tonight.
Tommy helps Evan down onto his couch which would not look out of place in a show home, and would definitely not feature next to the word 'comfortable' in the dictionary. But he settles Evan the best he can and, to Evan's surprise, does his best to prop his leg up.
'How's that?' Tommy asks, doing his best not to loom over the guy he barely knows but is worrying about like they've been married for 20 years.
'B-better,' Evan stammers. In the harsh, industrial lighting of his loft, Evan's eyes are so blue and soft and sincere. Tommy wants to kiss him — probably will — but he retreats to grab Evan's crutches first so he's not stranded.
Away from Evan, Tommy takes in more of his surroundings. It's a gorgeous property. A little… minimalist, if Tommy's being completely honest, but then who's he to talk? He's still sleeping on a mattress and pulling balled up Henleys out of a suitcase.
'How long have you lived here?' Tommy minds his tone so Evan knows he's genuinely curious and not passing judgement. He grabs the crutches and decides to wait until their next meeting to try them out himself.
'Um, not too long. There was a girl. Then there was a lease. And then' — Evan points to his leg as Tommy sets the crutches down in arm's reach — 'no more girl.'
'Jumped in?'
'Oh yeah,' Evan laughs, 'belly-flopped in the deep end.'
'Ouch.' Tommy laughs, too, and fuck it feels good. 'If it makes you feel better I just bought a house that's falling down. I have no furniture and no idea what I'm doing.'
'Ouch.' Evan's still laughing and wincing. He reaches down to rub the cast that's clamped around his leg as if he might be able to feel his hands rubbing his skin through the plaster. 'Where's your furniture?'
'I was leasing a furnished place. I have a TV.'
'And a two-thousand dollar coffee machine.'
'I — yes,' Tommy says dumbly, remembering how hopeful he was that Evan, or Mark, wasn't only planning to follow him home from the bar for something as innocent as a coffee. Unless that coffee was going to be sipped in bed long after the sun had come up.
'Are you, um, still serious about it? The coffee?'
'Absolutely.' Tommy eases himself down and sits on the floor so he can look Evan in the eyes when he says, 'I didn't come here for an apology. I came here because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.'
'Oh,' Evan says, his mouth forming a perfect O. 'It might just have to be coffee for a while.'
'Of course.' Tommy looks around. Evan has a nice kitchen. 'Maybe I can come over and make us dinner. Save you a car ride.'
'I'd really like that, Tommy.'
There's an accumulation of miscellanea on Evan's side table: a couple of books, a half eaten bag of Sour Patch Kids, a remote control, earphones, and a marker, which Tommy zones in on quickly.
'Tell you what,' Tommy says, grabbing the marker and uncapping it with his teeth. 'When you're ready —' he sets the tip of the marker to Evan's cast and waits for permission. The hitch of Evan's eyebrow is all it takes for Tommy to scrawl his phone number on the inside of Evan's thigh. 'Give me a call, ok? Or text me. Whatever.'
The tips of Evan's ears are bright red. His cheeks, too. Their fingertips graze when Tommy hands the marker back and even from the slightest touch Tommy knows Evan's palms are sweating.
He's completely charmed and in real danger of testing their limits of their combined restraint.
'I should get going,' Tommy says and is that a pout on Evan's lips? 'Do you need anything before I go?'
Evan taps his chin with his index finger. Tommy can tell he's not really thinking about it — he made his decision as soon as Tommy asked the question – but if he's finding some joy in making Tommy wait well, then Tommy will wait.
'How about you kiss me better, huh?'
Not wanting to lose his track record for his excellent bedside manner, Tommy rises up on his knees, leans over and, with only the tiniest moment of hesitation — just enough to feel Evan's nose bump his own — presses their lips together gently.
They kiss and kiss until Evan's fingers tangle in Tommy's hair and Tommy's neck starts to ache from the angle he's being held at. Reluctantly, he breaks away, and there's that pout again, more vibrant now Evan's lips are cherry red and kiss-bitten. His eyes are still closed, and Tommy kisses both of Evan's cheeks, and the underside of his jaw, as an apology and a promise.
'Better?' Tommy asks, breathless and so, so happy he knocked on Evan's door before he could talk himself out of it.
'Not sure,' Evan says, 'we should probably try again just to, you know, make sure the treatment's working.'
Tommy laughs because, despite barely knowing each other, Evan's already an expert at twisting his arm. 'Ok,' he says, still breathless and caught up, and leans in.
Thanks for the prompt! I had some fun with this one. 1,433 words of some 118 bucktommy. nsfw. I told myself I was going to actually be succinct and paint in broad strokes--I succeeded only some of the time.
Tommy is still at the 118 when Buck joins and they're almost immediately at odds with each other. Maybe Buck is intimidated by Tommy being the one who has been at the 118 the longest. Tommy knows he's on his way out, but maybe he's feeling replaced already.
Bobby is surprised by Tommy's reaction to Buck; though he's heard the stories about the 118 before he arrived, Tommy's been nothing but welcoming and helpful to anyone new who's stepped through those bay doors since he's arrived. Granted, none of them have been quite as—impulsive or hot-headed as Buck—but he thought Tommy would be good for Buck and Bobby's not sure if Buck's behavior is the only explanation for Tommy keeping him at arm's length. Bobby maybe has some theories that he is mostly trying to ignore; not because he has a problem with it, but because it feels like overstepping a boundary. All he can do is try to be someone Tommy feels comfortable confiding in, if that may ever be the case.
Bobby thinks that Buck and Tommy are more alike than they realize, though that may actually explain some of the friction. He knows they would make a great team if they could get it through their thick skulls that they are on the same team—working towards the same purpose—but every time it seems they've figured it out, they backslide. Two steps forward, one step back.
So when it comes time for the annual firefighter games, Bobby signs up Buck and Tommy. Maybe something that's lower stakes will allow them to work together towards winning together and they'll see how good a team they can be and not lose that lesson after the adrenaline wears off, like they would in a life or death situation.
Buck and Tommy get to wherever the games are being held (could be fun if it was somewhere Buck lived for awhile during his travels) and they get checked in and Buck calls Bobby and asks why he didn't tell him he was going to be sharing a room with Tommy. Bobby says, "there are two beds, aren't there?" and Buck sighs and says, "well, yeah, but—" and he can practically hear Bobby roll his eyes before he says, "then it'll be just like at the station. Good luck." and he hangs up before Buck can protest further.
The games aren't until the next day and they don't really know how to just be in each other's presence, so they both spend the next few hours in the hotel gym aggressively one-upping each other. Buck tries to get Tommy to spar with him and he won't, as usual. When they get back to their room, Buck calls him on it and Tommy says something cocky about not wanting to hurt Buck and Buck tackles him to the bed and they roll around, wrestling each other, and there's untimely boners and they're both breathing hard and there's a moment where they both still and they're just looking at each other and it seems like they might kiss, but then Tommy pushes Buck off of him and mumbles something about taking a shower. [and then there's basically mutual masturbation but from separate rooms and they don't know each other is doing it]
When it comes to the games, it takes them some time to sync up and really be able to work together well and so they don't start out too hot but they end up finishing strong and they win first place [maybe. probably. is that too cliche? fuck it, we ball]
They're at a bar afterwards celebrating. Buck gets up to go to the restroom and when he gets back, there's a guy hitting on Tommy and asking if he can buy him a drink.
Buck sidles up to the bar and says to the stranger, "A handsome guy like you? He should be buying you a drink." The stranger's smile is blinding when he turns to Buck and behind his back, Tommy's glaring daggers at Buck as he mouths, what are you doing? When the stranger turns back towards Tommy to see what he thinks, Buck grins at Tommy and mouths, winning.
They both learn the guy's name is Roderick and they both buy him drinks and spend the next hour aggressively flirting with him, thinking that they're both competing for his affection, when in reality Roderick thinks (and rightfully so) that Buck and Tommy are a thing and are trying to have a threesome.
Buck is not consciously aware of his attraction as sexual; like of course he knows Roderick is hot, but he wasn't planning on actually doing anything with him (to be clear, he never said that he was either), and of course he can see why Roderick finds Tommy hot—because he is hot—but really, he was only consciously aware of being motivated by some unfathomable need for Roderick to find him hotter.
Roderick says he's going to the use the restroom and then they can go back to Buck and Tommy's hotel room and only then do Buck and Tommy realize what Roderick has been thinking the whole time. Tommy expects Buck to back off—he has no doubt that there is some truth to Buck's flirting, but he has the feeling Buck doesn't realize it. Buck is too stubborn and quite frankly—now too curious to back off.
Buck makes a face at Tommy. "And let you win?"
Tommy sighs. "This isn't a competition. I'm just trying to get laid."
Buck lifts his chin. "Well, so am I."
Tommy snorts. "Suit yourself."
On the way back to their hotel room, both Buck and Tommy keep expecting Buck to freak out and tap out, but he never does.
As soon as the door is shut, Roderick pulls Tommy in by the back of his neck and kisses him. He does the same to Buck. Then he looks between Buck and Tommy and they both move at the same time, lips crashing together, and Buck surprises them all by how loud he moans.
Then it's a flurry of grabbing hands and clothes being shed and they fall onto one of the beds.
Tommy sees Buck's hesitation, so he makes the first move and asks Roderick if he can suck his cock. Buck watches Tommy like his life depends on it and after a few minutes, he pushes Tommy away so he can suck Roderick's cock (like Tommy, but better, he thinks haughtily). Tommy just chuckles and then he's coaching him through it, with a hand in Buck's hair. Before Roderick comes, Tommy says, "let me," and Buck stops sucking his cock and moves up the bed to kiss him instead while he comes in Tommy's mouth.
And then Tommy rides Buck while Roderick sucks Tommy's cock.
After Roderick leaves, Buck and Tommy shower together, trading lazy kisses and hand jobs.
When they're lying in bed cuddling, Buck isn't sure what to do with all of his thoughts and feelings, so he presses a kiss to Tommy's chest and says, "I won."
Tommy rolls his eyes and pulls Buck even closer, murmurs, "you're in my bed, pretty sure I won." And maybe it's a little too tender, a little too close to he marrow. So he adds, "your bed is the one covered in cum."
Buck nips at Tommy's chest. "Mhmm. Maybe that's how I prefer it, did you ever think about that?"
Tommy snorts and turns off the bedside lamp. "Goodnight, Evan."
When they get back to their normal lives, they keep hooking up and not really talking about it, but morale seems to have improved overall and Bobby pats himself on the back for it.
On Tommy's last day, they have a cake for him. Bobby runs into Buck sneaking out of a supply closet. He notices the frosting on his face and raises his eyebrows. "I thought you were in ketosis?" He makes finger quotes.
Buck frowns, then his eyes widen ever so slightly as he wipes at his mouth. "Uh, yeah. Couldn't resist, I guess."
Bobby just nods and says, "uh huh," and continues on to the kitchen. When he walks past the closet a few minutes later and sees Tommy coming out, he just chuckles quietly, squeezes Tommy's shoulder, and says, "congratulations."
Buck and Tommy finally make things official some time after Tommy starts at Harbor.
Bobby feigns disappointment in his team when he finds out A-shift (and even some of B and C shifts) had a betting pool going all along.
one more step to plummet 700 feet (the best time of your life)
This title gives me Tommy comparing falling for Buck to the first time he jumped from a helicopter.
The rise is faster than he expected. It's thrilling, he's somewhere he's never been before. It's incredible up here, the problems of the world are way below him. It's all blue skies and scenery and he could stay here forever.
Then someone's pushing to the edge, Evan's showing him pictures of ex - their ex - and he's saying all these things Tommy can't quite hear over the roaring in his ears.
It was the most transformative relationship of my life...until now.
Check your gear. Eyes on your lines
It makes me admire more.
Step to the edge.
The air is ripping at him, stinging his eyes, almost enough to knock him completely off balance.
I want you to move in with me.
30 seconds
This is absolutely insane. Why is here? Why did he do this to himself?
Why be apart when we can be together?
Go!
He's free falling. The world that was so small just a moment ago is surging up to meet him. He has to move fast
But this isn't military training. There's no rip chord to pull, no parachute to save him.
tagged by @thegingerparty <3 i'm always at least a day late with these things, so i'm doing a short silly goofy one, but at least it's on time!
”I can't find my phone.”
Tommy shifted, pulling his own phone out of his pocket, holding it out. ”Call it.”
Buck scrolled through Tommy's contacts, but couldn't find himself. ”You don't have my number in your phone?”
Tommy looked at him over the back of the couch. His neck was flushed. ”I do, but it's not under Evan.”
”Don't tell me I'm saved as Buckley comma Evan,” he said as he scrolled up.
”It's, uh,” Tommy paused. ”It's under sweet boy.”
Buck blinked at him. ”I'm what?”
”Lower case,” Tommy added.
He scrolled down until he found it. ”Oh.” Huh. He tapped the icon and listened.
”Sounds like the bedroom,” Tommy said.
Buck went to the bedroom, and found it under one of the pillows on the bed. Sweet boy. Tommy called him a lot of things, but he didn't remember sweet boy. Sweet and boy separately, but not together.
He tapped the end call button, and was brought back to the contact listing. Between the blurry nature of the photo, and the backwards cap he was wearing in it, he looked like an inadvisably young boy toy; especially with the words sweet boy right there.
Spent hours on the omegaverse doc. Wrote ~2k words, cut them back out, deleted another ~6k.
Started and stopped and deleted and tried again. Finally after another three plus hours, I had just under 350 words to show for my efforts.
Partially because it required a ton of research, partially because it's well outside my wheelhouse, partially because several plan didn't work out for one reason or another.
Then, to celebrate getting past that really difficult part... I started a new WIP. Basically, Buck and Tommy keep hooking up after the hook up. Tommy knows it's meaningless but can't stop himself. So it's self-loathing and misery, sure that Evan is involved with someone else but comes to him - uses him - when that person isn't available. Hoping that then it's almost retold/expanded on with Buck's POV. And he's barely holding himself together through the power of these stolen moments.
Or that's the intention. Here's a sneak peek of the first 300 words:
Tommy wondered how selfish and masochistic he can be, how much longer he could greedily accept kisses he knows are meaningless. How much longer he could be the one Evan turned to when whoever he really wanted wasn't around, wasn't available, wasn't at Evan's beck and call like he was.
The first time it happened - or second if you count the time at the bar with Ravi, which Tommy doesn't because that time he'd stupidly thought it meant something - had been in a bar about six months after he'd driven Evan home after Bobby's funeral.
Tommy had sat in a quiet little bar, idly wondering if two beers and a basket of fries constituted a social life when he saw Evan come in. Tommy couldn't take his eyes off him.
At the funeral, Evan had been staunchly upright, a pillar Tommy supposed would hold up the 118 in Bobby's absence. Then as Tommy had driven him home afterwards, Evan had slowly collapsed in the passenger seat like an inflatable with a slow bleed. Tommy thought there might have been nothing left of him if Evan had lived any further away. Tommy had helped him out of his truck and unlocked the door for him, held him up as Tommy sought a bedroom to lay him down in.
He'd intended to stay with him. He'd have stood at attention all night in his dress uniform if he'd had to. Instead, once they'd crossed the threshold into the bedroom, Evan had pushed free of his help, squared his shoulders, and told him, “You can go.”
It was a cold dismissal and maybe Tommy should have been a better man but when had he ever been the better man? He'd held Evan's gaze for five seconds and then nodded and did as he'd been told.
every time you post a dag snippet i'm like yay❤️ but then i Remember ☹️
My perfect son who didn't make it to 40 🥰
Sad Dag Hours under the cut.
•
Dag reaches across the middle console and puts his hand on Tommy’s leg. He squeezes, feeling the shift of muscle under his palm as he does.
“If we get stuck in traffic, can I jerk you off?”
“No,” Tommy laughs and adjusts his sunglasses, but he doesn’t make any move to push Dag’s hand away.
“Why not?” Dag asks, sliding his hand a little higher. “You’ve got tinted windows.”
“It has nothing to do with the windows, it’s the distracted driving.” Tommy says.
“C’mon. Traffic here can be completely stopped,” Dag drags his hand a little bit lower instead, until he reaches the hem of Tommy’s shorts, and then he starts trying to wiggle his fingers up the leg hole.
“If it stops completely I’ll consider it,” Tommy does swat at Dag’s hand then.
Dag retaliates by grabbing some leg hair and pulling. Tommy yelps.
“Is this more or less distracting than if I was pulling your dick?”
“That’ll depends on how good of a hand job you give me,” Tommy grabs Dag by the wrist, yanks it away, and holds it against the middle console.
“So I can jerk you off in traffic?” Dag asks sweetly, tapping his fingers against the console.
“Not right now,” Tommy says.
Dag taps his fingers some more. Tommy lets go of his wrist and then squeezes their hands together, before he has to go back to driving. Dag waits a few minutes, and then casually drops his hand back onto Tommy’s thigh.
“Behave,” Tommy says mildly, glancing at Dag in his peripheral, before looking back to the road.
“I’m an angel,” Dag says, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth across Tommy’s leg.
“Mmm, you’re definitely something.” Tommy nods.
The streets of Los Angeles are bright and sunny as they drive. Every time Dag’s here, it strikes him how much it does look like a movie. Palm trees and blue skies, shoes dangling by their laces on power lines.
“Can we go to the Hollywood sign?” Dag asks
Tommy rolls his neck to the side to frown at Dag balefully, before returning his attention to the road.
“If you want,” he says. “I’ve never been, but I know there are hikes.”
“Somewhere to take pictures,” Dag says. “I don’t need to touch it or anything.”
“I don’t know if you even can,” Tommy says, before looking thoughtful as they approach a red light. “I should say, I don’t know if you can legally. If you wanna go trespassing we can, but it’ll make touring difficult if you get arrested.”
“No,” Dag shakes his head firmly. Their first North American tour they’d been pulled over in the van in Texas, and Jan had been driving with his terrible English. It had been awful. “I don’t need to experience American police again.”
Tommy laughs.
“What else do you wanna do while you’re in town?” He ask.
“Besides jerk you off in traffic?” Dag slides his hand down and squeezes just above Tommy’s knee. “I want to go to the Cheesecake Factory.”
“You don’t even like desserts,” Tommy plops his hand on top of Dag’s while they wait at the light, smiling widely.
“We can share a slice of something,” Dag says. “Also I want to go to Olive Garden.”
“Okay, okay,” Tommy nods. “You’ve come all the way to California to eat at our chain restaurants and jerk me off in the truck, good to know.”
“I’ll jerk you off anywhere,” Dag says smugly, because Tommy’s stopped denying that the traffic hand job will happen, which is a good sign. “Also Jan says I should go to the Getty.”
Tommy looks thoughtful.
“We can do that, I haven’t been since I was a teenager. They’ve got a garden you’ll like,” Tommy says, before adding firmly. “You’re not going to jerk me off at the Getty.”
“Not even in the bathroom?”
“I would prefer it to take place on a bed in my room,” Tommy heaves a sigh, and puts his hand back on the gearshift as the light turns green. “Since we’re not on tour and don’t need to hunt around for privacy.”
“Whatever you want,” Dag says magnanimously, now paying a little more attention to how Tommy’s driving. “I’m noticing that this truck is a manual.”
Goddammit. Tommy was right about the distracted driving issue actually. It’s not like he’s just going on and off the breaks.
“It’s amazing that, for how often you stare at my hands, you’re just now noticing.” Tommy teases.
“I didn’t ask you to finger me in traffic,” Dag points out, which he thinks is very reasonable.
“We could actually manage that,” Tommy says dryly. “Since you’d come in about ten seconds—”
“Not ten!” Dag squawks.
“Maybe twenty seconds at most,” Tommy continues. “Your prostate is like a come button, it’s very convenient.”
“You like it,” Dag says, feeling his face get hot and his dick thicken in his shorts.
fuck it friday saturday -> tagged by @corporatebanana & @rcmclachlan <3
i thought i'd posted about this more than once, but i guess i haven't. this is going to be so out of context, i'm sorry. AU where buck and tommy are at the 118 together. this wip is going in all sorts of directions and i guess we're doing gay chicken now?? enjoy!
Tommy was an asshole and a coward, but he had boundaries. Buckley wasn't a fighter; sparring with him was a mess of limbs and teasing, more often than not. They'd gotten along well today, Tommy had no motive, yet when he saw the opening he took it.
He side stepped at just the right time and took the kid down. Buckley exclaimed, but was too winded to enunciate. Tommy went down with him, easily flipping him from his back to his front, and put the entirety of his weight down on Buckley's body.
”Dude, come o–” He went quiet, as Tommy pressed his face to the back of his head. Tommy's nose was tucked into the short hair, right behind his ear. Tommy wasn't an aggressive person, but he found himself pushing his hips forward in a way Buckley couldn't misinterpret. He held the position for a few long seconds, listening to Buckley breathe against the mat.
Tommy exhaled forcefully. Buckley shivered at the feeling. ”Still wondering?” Tommy breathed against his ear. He pushed himself up, climbed off, and headed for the showers. His fingers tingled. Buckley could report him for that, but the more pressing thought was how perfectly his ass felt in the cradle of Tommy's hips.
He didn't look back, but there was no scramble of sneakers, no sound to indicate that Buckley got up.
The rest of the shift was quiet, not in terms of calls, but Buckley. He wasn't talking to Tommy, or anyone else. He caught Tommy's eyes across the room a few times, but didn't say anything.
At the end of the shift, they handed the house over to B-shift and got ready to head home. Tommy was dragging his feet. The night had been uneventful, so he'd fallen into a deeper sleep than normal. He felt groggy and not particularly fit to drive.
He thought he was the last to leave, but when he walked to his truck, Buckley was leaning against it. When he saw him approach, Buckley crossed his arms. ”What if I am?”
”What?” Tommy grunted.
”Wondering.”
It took a moment for Tommy to figure out what the fuck he was saying. ”I shouldn't have done that.”
”I would've wondered either way.” His face was unusually neutral.
”I have places to be. Move.” Buckley stood his ground. It was impressive how little effort it took for the kid to drive Tommy up the wall. Tommy took a step closer and repeated himself, ”Move.”
”Make me.”
Tommy's duffel slipped off his shoulder, hitting the pavement with a thud. He pressed his hand to the middle of Buckley's chest, pinning him to the door. ”You get off on people being mean to you?”
”What if I do?”
Tommy could feel Buckley's heart pound against his ribcage. He was equally aware of the CCTV in the parking lot. No one checked the tapes, unless they had reason to, but it made his neck prickle.
He curled his fingers in Buckley's shirt, yanking him away from the car. As tall as he was, there was barely any bulk to him. Buckley stumbled to the side, giving Tommy the opening to grab his bag and get into the driver's seat.
Buckley huffed and puffed a bit, but didn't grab the door, to keep it from closing. He had a lot to say, but for once he kept his mouth shut.
Tommy hesitated, but ultimately pulled out of the lot and headed home.
What would a fic with the title “the rot and the bloom” be? 💚
hi hj!!
okay hear me out—bucktommy florist au WITH A TWIST!!
(tw death mention, minor character death beneath the cut)
tommy loves his job as a florist. it honestly wasn’t his first choice at careers but after his medical discharge from the military he knew he needed something a little more slower paced, so when he saw the ad for extra help at the little flower shop a few blocks from his place, he figured he might as well throw his hat in.
besides he grew up helping his mom tend to the garden that day outside their home as a kid, he knows the basics of flower care and all their meanings.
(a part of him thinks he only really got the job cause the old woman who runs the shop, miss beatrice—betty, as she reminds tommy oh so often, needed a stronger pair of hands carrying all the supplies around the shop, but he’s not one to complain)
a little while into the job, tommy finds out that one of betty’s main customers is, surprisingly enough to tommy, the local funeral home.
betty explains she supplies the main floral arrangements for them and their funeral services and at first tommy doesn’t have much of a thought about it. he gets it. dead people need their flowers too.
but it becomes something more than that. after a while of betty’s teaching him color theory and giving him a refresher on flower meaning, she starts trusting him to put some bigger arrangements—one of them being a funeral at said funeral home. and tommy starts to get it.
the arrangement is for a man a little older than tommy’s age. his name is roger from what the invoice notes says. his favorite flowers were daisies. his favorite color was blue.
tommy’s is too.
he takes a lot of care in putting everything together. in giving roger a nice arrangement that he would have hopefully appreciated. it takes him longer to get this one right and after a few attempts he finally finishes everything up in time for the procession.
he shows up early as instructed (a job that once again used to be betty’s, but do to her worsening eyesight, they keys to the delivery van are firmly in tommy’s palms). admittedly he does get a little lost trying to find someone who works at the funeral home cause aside from a time, he wasn’t given much detail
thankfully after what seems like a creepy amount of time to be lost at a funeral home, a man about tommy’s height dressed in a suit eventually bumps into him—quite literally as they both round the corner too fast.
they share very hurried apologies and tommy double checks the arrangement he’s holding isn’t damaged, which thankfully to tommy’s relief, it’s isn’t.
“that’s a really beautiful arrangement you have.”
tommy glances over and the blue-eyed stranger, who’s gazes almost awkwardly flickers between tommy and the flowers. it’s honestly a little cute.
“thank you,” tommy murmurs. at first, he wonders if this guy is just here attending one of the services, until tommy spots a name tag—Evan— it reads. “oh great i was trying to find someone who could help me, so you know where roger gray’s service is going to be held? i got a little lost trying to find it.”
the man—evan—beams up at him. “you’re the florist!” he says like the pieces just clicked for him. tommy can’t help but give him a teasing look for it. evan shakes his head laughing to himself. “sorry, obviously you are. bobby just told me to me ‘betty would be stopping by with everything’ and um…”
“i could be betty,” tommy says dryly.
“are you?” evan asks with a smile.”
“take off a few inches and give it a few years, we could be twins.” tommy sticks out his hand. “i’m tommy. i help out betty at the shop.”
evan takes his hand into a firm shake, but tommy can’t also help but notice just how warm and soft the guys hands are. it’s fine. everything’s fine.
“very nice to meet you tommy. here i’ll lead you to where you need to set everything up.”
and he does. tommy’s maybe two seconds into trying to come up with small talk questions in his head before evan suddenly turns to him and asks, “what kind of flowers are those?”
tommy looks over, a little surprised. not cause of the question but cause of the tone hidden in the words. it’s not the first time someone’s asked him that, but there’s something about the way evan asks him. like it’s not just curiosity, but genuine interest.
his lips curl into a smile as tommy gets to explain all his flower choices, what is what and why he paired them together.
and with each answer, evan smiles and asks another question. even at one point going on a little ramble about pollinators (he watched a documentary a few weeks ago and he’s since has had a newfound appreciation for bees)
and oddly enough in this place that should be filled with such dread and grief, tommy can’t help but notice this small warm blooming potential settling in between the two of them
————
send me a fic title and i’ll tell you what fic id write for it!!
for the fic title game: “and time just stops ticking”
Oh, you know I'm doing some weird magical bullshit with this one. Now usually I stick Tommy in the torment nexus (if not meant to go in the torment nexus why torment nexus shaped?), but let's give Buck a go around this time.
There is only so much weight Los Angeles can hold (only so many catastrophes and emergencies and death) and when another one occurs, time fractures and Buck fractures along with it.
He is living in Buck Actually and Buck Begins and Buck Bothered and Bewildered and Mother's Boy and he is pulling people (and bodies) out of the rubble. He's living it for the first time and then again ("I'm not supposed to be here," he tells Bonnie. "He's waiting for me."). He is sitting with Mitchell and Tommy is kissing him in the loft kitchen and he is trying to lift the tank off Saleh and he is writhing on the floor and begging it to stop please stop. And then it's always the same: he goes home, alone.
And then there's hands on him and he's being pulled up and out and he's back where he's supposed to be. "What happened?" Chimney asks as Hen shines a light in his eyes. "You went catatonic."
"I'm fine," Buck says, and he is. All of that already happened. He made it out. He's going home, alone.
It's dawn by the time they're relieved, and then it's even later when he leaves the 118 (arguing that he doesn't need to go to the hospital he's fine), and it's nearly noon when Tommy, exhaustion dogging his heels, walks out of Harbor to see Buck leaning against his truck.
"Do you want to come home with me?" Buck asks. "We can talk."
"I'd like that," Tommy said, and he holds out a hand for Buck to take, and they go home.
Tony had been very upfront about how protective his friends were. Steve had seen it firsthand, even, watching Pepper cut in on a dance where a debutante was getting too pushy, or Colonel Rhodes grabbing a guy by the back of the collar and hauling him away. Hell, he'd watched Happy cold-cock a paparazzo two days ago. He knew they had standards for people who wanted to be in Tony's life, and he was pretty certain he'd met those standards.
So he was mortified when Tony turned from his menu and said, "Can I have onion rings tonight?"
Steve had no idea why he'd ask that of him. He'd never controlled Tony's eating habits, ever, even when he'd been a little concerned about them. Besides, Tony had a healthy appetite when it came to dinner, so eating some fried onions shouldn't have even rated a passing concern. Steve looked from Tony to Pepper, whose brows were furrowing together, then to Happy, who was starting to scowl. He closed his eyes, not even bothering to look at Colonel Rhodes, because he expected he'd find a barrel of a gun instead.
"Why are you asking Steve if you can have onion rings?" Colonel Rhodes asked flatly, which was pretty kind of him, considering Steve also wanted to know why Tony wanted to make him look bad in front of his friends.
Tony sounded bewildered. "I was trying to be nice? Sometimes the smell makes him sick."
Steve whipped his head around to stare at him, mortified. "You noticed?"
Tony swiveled to meet his gaze, still looking very confused. "Steve, you gagged when I ordered a bloomin' onion when we got stranded in Wyoming during our last mission. You did a good job swallowing it down, but you definitely, audibly gagged."
"Probably because it was Outback Steakhouse," Happy allowed.
Steve wished he'd been shot. He was somehow more embarrassed about the onion thing than being considered controlling. The bloomin' onion hadn't even been that bad; he'd just been shocked by the smell of horseradish in the sauce. He thought he'd been so slick. But if Tony had noticed, that meant everyone else on the team had noticed, too, and had just been nice enough not to say anything. It suddenly explained why Natasha had stopped chopping fresh onions when it was her turn to cook and instead got frozen.
"Well," Colonel Rhodes said after a beat. "Get the onion rings. But also stop being nice to Steve in high stress situations, I don't think he'll be able to cope."
Steve was just glad that Tony's friends apparently approved of him, even if he now had to deal with the mortification of his team thinking he was sensitive to the smell of onions.
tagged recently by @corporatebanana, @rcmclachlan and @frogsinflannel. tagging you all back for next time, along with anyone else who has something to share. as with most things outside my usual, idk who to tag or not tag on a post like this so consider this me bigsing my eyes and asking to see what you're working on
well! let me share a story: i claimed a prompt at hj's prompt fest over on ao3 expecting to write something short and filthy featuring reverse age gap. howeverrrrr. i ended up thinking THOUGHTS and now i'm writing something LONG and filthy (and kinda sad) that i'm not sure find the fest vibe but which IS scratching my brain just right.
things you need to know: featuring married buddie in their 50s. fire captain buck, retired eddie, tommy who is 23 and just out of the army due to injury and is a) very unhappy, b) very obsessed with buck and eddie both c) very weird about his own desires
oh and this snippet is nsfw from like, the word go.
"Can I cum on your face?" Eddie asks, so polite about it. Tommy whines around his cock, and Eddie knows exactly what that means, pulls his dick out and gets his hand in Tommy's hair. He's been letting it grow out since the the second time he met Eddie, who remarked on his military posture and told him he didn't need to look like a jarhead anymore. He thinks they like it longer, and not just for the grip it affords them. When Evan realized there was a curl to Tommy's hair he'd tossed the three-in-one cheap shit Tommy had been using and introduced him to the world of a curl routine. It had made Tommy feel weird and young and cared about, but Evan coos about how cute it is, and Eddie likes to pull a curl straight and watch it spring back when they're lazing on the couch.
Right now, Eddie's not playing with his hair, just holding it, a tight grip that makes Tommy's eyes sting just right as he desperately keeps them open right until the last second. He can see Eddie's wedding ring shining as he strokes his cock, wet from Tommy's mouth, and if he really concentrates, he can convince himself he can feel Evan's too, where his hands are on Tommy's hips. Tommy takes Eddie's low, rough groan as his cue to close his eyes and feels Eddie's cum land on his face in several long, hot spurts. He wants to lick at what landed on his mouth but he knows they like the sight of him all messy, so he just blinks open his eyes and watches Eddie smile at him.
"There you are. Hey, beautiful. Do you mind if I show Buck a picture?"
Tommy shakes his head and groans when he feels Evan, who'd slowed down to help him present a nice, steady target for the facial start to fuck him harder, faster. Eddie snaps a picture on his phone, holds it out to Evan who groans and squeezes Tommy's hips harder. God, he hopes it leaves marks, hopes they press on them later when they make him cum.
"Fuck, you made him so pretty, babe," Evan grits out.
"He's always pretty," Eddie says, and holds the phone out to Tommy this time. He lets him look for a second, then lets him watch as Eddie deletes the picture. They're so much more fucking thoughtful than he wants them to be, sometimes.
I was tagged by @corporatebanana! Thank you!
Not tagging anyone because I need to go cook dinner and I'm in a rush.
Sad Dag Hours under the cut.
•
It starts snowing again on the drive to Jan’s studio. Dag sighs. That means he’ll probably have to shovel again this afternoon or tomorrow. Tommy can shovel out the driveway, and will do it without complaint, but he always looks so fucking miserable the entire time, and Dag can’t stand it. No matter how long Tommy’s been in Sweden, he still hasn’t quite acclimated to the weather. Tommy also fucking hates driving in the snow, and Dag watches his hands flex on the steering wheel.
“Do you want to swap?” Dag asks.
“Maybe on the way back, if this keeps up,” Tommy says with a frown, before sighing dramatically. “We need to become snowbirds.”
“Hmmm, what’s that?” Dag reaches out and tugs lightly on one of Tommy’s curls.
“Old people that spend the winter in places with nice weather,” Tommy explains.
“Not old yet. We could go back to LA and drop in on your friend that’s renting,” Dag laughs. “Live in that little house in the back yard.”
“Casita,” Tommy corrects, just like he does every time.
Right now the casita is mostly filled with shit that Phorid likes to have on tour in North America, but that wasn’t worth trying to bring back: extra gear and Henrik’s tiny charcoal grill and probably some merch. It’s cheaper and more convenient than a storage unit.
“Or what about Spain?” Tommy continues, looking wistful.
“When I win the lottery I will take you wintering in Spain,” Dag promises, twisting that lock of Tommy’s hair around and around his finger. “As long as you make sure my back has enough sunblock.”
“I’ll get your shoulders too,” Tommy glances away from the road to grin at him. “And you gotta play to win, we should go back to Vegas.”
tagged by @corporatebanana and I’m tagging @sad-girl-hours23 @exhaustedpirate @quintessenceofdust88 @trombonechurchill @nzchance @leashybebes @kinardnatural + ANYONE WHO WANTS TO SHARE
I started writing this for a response to a prompt in my turn up the heat prompt meme but then I was like “is this dynamic… too overdone” because I specifically (this is buddietommy btw) like Tommy to be long-suffering and Buck and Eddie to be bratty as hell. so I stopped and didn’t finish (plus I had to get back to work after lunch). but then I decided that actually that’s what I like so who the fuck cares lmao
~
Eddie kicked Buck's shin. "Move," he grumbles, scooching away until he was perched at the edge of the mattress, his body curled like a comma.
Buck kicked back. "There's not enough room," he says. He wiggles out from under the thin sheet until there's nothing left covering him. He flops out onto the bed, long limbs encroaching into Eddie's space—and Tommy's, too, on the other side—as he pressed his foot into Eddie's leg. Eddie kicked at him again. "Stop," Buck whines. "'S not my fault."
"You're like a furnace, man," Eddie says. "It's too hot to be touching. Stay off of my side."
"Oh, so you get the whole side—"
"I'm on the edge of the bed!" Eddie says, turning over his shoulder to glare at Buck. He huffs and presses himself back down into his pillow, squirming just that scant distance further away. "You wanted to be in the middle."
"Yeah because I want to cuddle," Buck says sounding pouty about it.
"It's too hot to cuddle," Eddie and Tommy say at the same time.
"Okay, okay," Buck says, defeated. He goes quiet and the fan above them turns with a fast fwip fwip, circulating the air. It's at least some small measure of relief.
But then he shifts again and Eddie, whose maybe letting the heat get to him, growls. "Buck! Can you be still? And quiet? For one minute, please—I'm trying to sleep.
"Hey." Buck props himself up on his elbow and pokes Eddie's shoulder. "You're the one being loud, Eddie, I don't even do anything that time!"
Eddie wants to argue—he's going to argue, actually—when Tommy makes a grumbling, resigned noise from Buck's other side. He grabs Buck around the waist and pulls him in, then flops him over to the other side of the mattress.
