StuckInTheMiddle22

[dharmaavocado]

In case you want more title asks:

Stealing your header and suggesting: "It must be Thursday"

My header is a The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy quote, and so this too must be a thhgttg au.

Early on the Thursday morning that the Earth was scheduled to be demolished to make way for a hyperspace bypass, Tommy's ex-boyfriend knocked on his door and said, "You still keep a go bag packed, right?"

Tommy was in his ratty old man bathrobe and his ratty old man boxers and his ratty old man slippers and was not prepared to see Evan Buckley on his doorstep with a hiking backpack slung over his shoulders and a huge tablet with the comforting words Don't Panic scrawled across the back clutched in one hand after seven months of silence.  "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Evan made a frustrated noise and pushed past Tommy to grab the go bag out of the closet. "You still have those ready made protein shakes right?  You're going to lose a lot of calories in the transfer."

Tommy belatedly went after Evan, who was shoving bottles and, inexplicably, canned peaches into his backup.  "Are you having a stroke?  Am I having a stroke?  Evan, what's going on?"

Evan grabbed his hand and dragged him outside.  "We have to go.  I'm sorry there's no time for you to put on real pants."

And then Evan stuck out his thumb and they hitched a ride.

--

After Tommy vomited, had a nervous breakdown, downed one of the shakes, had a second breakdown, ate half a can of the peaches Evan packed, went through the five stages, spent twenty-eight minutes silently staring at the unbroken field of stars outside the spaceship's view port, invented another three stages of grief, and had a third breakdown, he said, "So when you said your family wasn't local you meant they live on..."

"Betelgeuse," Evan said, not making eye contact as he fiddled with his weird space ring.

"And when you said you worked for a travel publishing company and hitchhiked around the world, you actually meant this."  He waved the copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Evan had handed him around the eighth stage of grief.  The entry for Earth just read "mostly harmless."

"I was working for a travel publishing company.  I was hitchhiking."

"Don't pretend you weren't omitting several key fucking details, Evan."

"Don't you pretend I could tell you I was an alien when you broke up with me when I said I wanted to move in together, Tommy!" Evan shot back, shifty eyed guilt replaced by righteous anger.

"You said I helped get gay marriage passed and then said we should get married!"

"No, I said that because of people like you we had the option of getting married if we wanted.  And I gotta say," Evan added with the casual viciousness he was so good at, "I don't remember why I ever wanted to!"

The words hung in space in much the same way that Earth no longer did.

"Got it," he said dully, backing up as Evan's anger was visibly overtaken by horror.  "Out of everyone on Earth, why'd you bother saving me?"

"Why do you think?" Evan said in a small voice.

Outside the view port, a chunk of what used to be the Earth drifted past.  Everyone he knew was dead.  His parents were dead, which on the whole wasn't a terrible loss.  On the other hand, Sal and Gina and their girls were.  He wasn't going to be able to take that vacation to New Orleans or London or Norway to see the fjords now.  The little pizza joint where he and Evan had their second first date was gone.  He was never going to eat pizza again.

When he came out of his fourth breakdown, his head was on Evan's lap and Evan was tenderly stroking his hair.  "I'm sorry," he said.

"You didn't plan the hyperspace bypass and then hide the plans in another system that we don't even have the technology to reach," he said, resisting the urge to press his face into Evan's stomach.  Tommy had missed him so much.

"Wasn't apologizing for that."  Evan gently tugged on his hair in light reprimand.

"I know."  He rolled carefully onto his back.  Even under the harsh lights of an alien spacecraft, Evan was beautiful.  "What now?"

"Well," Evan said with a brave little smile, "how do you feel about hitching a ride to Betelgeuse?"

(And then shenanigans occur where they maybe end up stealing a ship with an improbability drive and meet the Earth dolphins who are quite put out they didn't bring any fish and Tommy learns to fly, which is to say he forgets how to fall.  Also they fall back in love and kiss the end)

[leashybebes]

made up fic title game: haunted by affection

oooh okay! supernatural (genre not show) tinged presumed dead fic!

they're still broken up, but they're in each other's orbit, maybe they reconnect after the funeral, maybe buck learns tommy and chim are still in touch (thank u kenny, love u kenny) and doesn't want chim to have to hide it. either way, they get coffee once in a while, they're semi-sorta-friends who are working really hard to work through the mutual pining.

tommy's away fighting wildfires in...idk, pick somewhere not too close to california, when his chopper goes down and once the dust has settled and search and rescue can actually occur, there's no sign of him and his helicopter is so badly fire damaged (insert handwaving here) that he's declared dead.

buck is devastated, ofc, and thinks he might be going crazy when he starts to feel...things. a touch to the back of his hand that feels so much like the way tommy used to do it to get his attention, two fingers in a very soft touch. a kiss to his temple that no one else he's ever dated has been tall enough to do as casually as tommy could. he wakes up in the morning and could swear he can feel tommy behind him, body molded to the curves and angles of buck's own, just the way he woke up every time they shared a bed. a tug on his earlobe when he's gotten lost in misery and hasn't moved for hours that tommy used to do when buck was too deep in an internet rabbit hole and needs to take a break.

it feels so unfair that now that tommy is gone, buck is haunted by affection (roll credits!!!) that he'll never get to feel again.

except, somewhere in pick-a-state, usa, there's a john doe in a coma (idk he managed to stumble to a river and got carried away? pick your poison, i guess) "dreaming" of the man he loves, trying everything he can to stop him looking so sad.

do i even need to say "and then there's a happy ending"? let's saaaaay buck is determined that there must be something going on and he meets a psychic on a call who says there's no one from the other side trying to contact him but there's something weird and then he's on a mission to find his man. it is successful, happily ever after, when tommy finally wakes up it's to buck at his bedside and he says you looked so sad and buck says you helped.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

First of all: hello.

Second: you brought this on yourself 😁

Can I get more on Phillip and Sal? What’s their relationship like? How does it develop? What do Buck and Tommy think of it? (Buck would be hilarious, I’m sure!)

And one more thing: Phillip’s first thought about Sal is that he’s terrifying. I need more!! Maybe one day Phillip sees Sal in action at work—dealing with someone who hurt a woman, child, or animal—and he just unleashes on the person responsible? And Phillip’s reaction is basically, "Mark my words: I have never been so scared AND horny at the same time."

(WHY Sal is SO GOOD pairing with literally... everyone?! My man got range 🤣)

Okay so I've been writing the fic! It's almost done, I'm just wrapping up the last section. I think it's more that Sal looks intimidating at first because burly guy with a buzzcut. But here's their first meeting:

He turns to go back and get something to drink, and he sees Tommy talking to another man with buzzed hair and stubble. He could look intimidating, maybe even a little terrifying, but he's grinning at Phillip. Or Evan. Or Theo. But it's a good smile.

“You haven't met Sal, right?” Tommy asks as he approaches, and Phillip shakes his head. “He's my best friend. Sal, Phillip. Evan and Maddie's dad.”

“Nice to meet you,” Phillip says, shaking his hand. It's broad, calloused, and warm.

Alright, maybe noticing how a man's hands feel was another sign. He's done it before. Notably only when the guy is particularly good-looking.

“You, too,” Sal says, his grin shifting to something warmer. “Learning to surf?”

“Absolutely not,” Phillip says, and Sal laughs. “No, Evan tried, but it's not happening.”

He realizes he's heard of Uncle Sal. Theo loves him, says he makes the best pizza in the world and owns a fire station. Which probably isn't true, but Phillip imagines he might be a captain or something.

“I really need something to drink, sorry,” he says.

“Same, I just got here off a softball game,” Sal says, gesturing for Phillip to cross first.

Phillip glances at Tommy, who's looking at him like he knows something Phillip doesn't.

They get to the cooler, and Phillip digs around for the black cherry Boylan’s he'd found. He glances over and sees Sal watching him. Checking him out? Maybe.

“Where'd you get that?” Sal asks, bending next to him to go through the cooler. “I’d sell my sister for a birch beer, but that might be the next best thing.”

Phillip laughs and settles back on his heels. “You a New England boy?”

“Pittsburgh—well, Aspinwall,” Sal says.

“Mm, well, I won't hold it against you,” Phillip says, digging out a cherry Sprite and handing the Boylan’s to Sal. “Pretty sure it's the last one.”

Sal pops the lid off the bottle and hands it to Phillip before grabbing the Sprite, popping the tab, and taking a sip of that. He grins at Phillip and shrugs. “I’ll just steal some of yours.”

When he winks, Phillip feels that coil in his belly.

“Grandpa?” Jee-Yun asks, tapping his shoulder.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, turning his head to look at her.

“Do you wanna Go Fish?” she asks. “Theo wants to play, too.”

“Absolutely,” Phillip says, getting up.

“Can I play?” Sal asks. “I'll only cheat a little.”

Another wink, and Jee-Yun leads them over to the big blanket where Theo is sipping a juice box and eating grapes and cheese cubes.

“Alright, how do we play?” Phillip asks seriously, sitting and shuffling the big deck of cards with cartoon fishes all over the back.

“Aces high,” Sal says, and Phillip snorts softly.

He shuffles the cards and hands them to Jee-Yun to deal out. She carefully hands them each seven cards, explaining the rules even though Phillip had been joking. He doesn't stop her, he enjoys the careful way she explains the rules to him.

The game is more fun than Phillip had expected. Jee-Yun gets a little wrinkle between her eyebrows when she's thinking, Theo’s reactions are all a little exaggerated when he’s told to Go Fish, and Sal keeps asking seriously for things like a thirteen of squares or a ninety of diamonds and getting outraged howls from the kids.

They're soundly beaten by his granddaughter. She's mostly gracious about it. Theo had started playing Sal’s way after a while, so he's satisfied with his strange collection of cards.

“Would anyone care to build the dopest sand castle on the beach?” Eddie calls through cupped hands.

“Me!” Theo says, up like a shot, his cousin hot on his heels.

“Abandoned so easily,” Phillip says, sighing and gathering up the cards. He stretches out on the blanket and reaches for the sunscreen. “You have kids? You're great with them.”

“Nah, I'm a better uncle,” Sal says, pulling his shirt over his head. “Bad hours, never found the right person, blah blah blah. Almost asked if you did, which woulda been a stupid question.”

Phillip eyes the lightly freckled, tanned back and then the hairy pecs. He busies himself with pouring sunscreen in his hand and rubbing himself down with it, taking his own shirt off. He has a brief, weird thought about whether Sal still goes to clubs.

“Let me get some of that,” Sal says, grabbing the bottle. He rubs sunscreen into his skin quickly, but then he hands the bottle to Phillip. “Can you get my back?”

Having watched everyone help each other with sunscreen all day, it shouldn't really give him pause. But as soon as his hand settles on Sal’s back, an alarm goes off in his head.

He's definitely into men.

Margaret's going to laugh her ass off when they have lunch later in the month.

Sal has him turn on his stomach so he can get Phillip’s back, too. He lays his head in his arms and clenches his hands. It's not like Sal is massaging him or squeezing, but there's just something about it. Maybe he's just hyper aware of this kind of thing now.

He rolls onto his back when Sal is done and shields his eyes with his hand, smiling. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” Sal says, settling on his stomach and grabbing an LAFD tote bag. He pulls out a book, and it's thicker than most beach reads Phillip’s seen.

“Is that Dune?” he asks.

“Yeah, my nephew's got me reading these,” Sal says. “You ever read ‘em?”

“In high school around when the third one came out,” Phillip says, reaching for his own bag and pulling out his reading glasses and a battered copy of Silence of the Lambs he'd found in a discount bin at a used bookstore.

“You like horror stuff?” Sal asks after grabbing the book and flipping it over to read the cover.

“Not usually, but I'm trying to expand my horizons. I've been called a literature snob,” Phillip admits. “I was an English teacher before I retired.”

“Well, then you've just got taste,” Sal teases. “If you're just some asshole looking down on, I dunno, Stephen King—”

“Depends on the book and how good the coke was when he was writing it,” Phillip says.

“Fair—then I'll call you a snob. But you've got a degree, you paid to have taste,” Sal says, grinning and handing the book back. His eyes flick up to Phillip’s glasses before he opens his book to the slip of paper holding his place.

—

The sun isn't going down yet, but it's still summer and the sun’s going to be out until late. But there are dinners to make, kids to clean up, and shifts to work in the morning for some of the people present.

Phillip’s getting quick hugs, it takes a while for them to all start separating because little conversations pop up. Lucy and May are squeezed together to look at something on a phone and laughing in bursts, Eddie and Karen are talking about something that looks a little serious, Tommy's got a sleeping Nash against his shoulder while he talks to Howie.

“Hopefully I see you again before you leave,” Sal says to Phillip.

Should he ask for his number?

He's old enough to be Sal’s father, so probably not.

“That would be nice,” Phillip says, hitching his bag on his shoulder.

“Dad, can you grab Theo while I get the cooler?” Evan asks.

“Yeah,” he says, giving Sal a smile before he goes to his grandson.

—

—

Buck is cuddled up against Tommy's side, still feeling warm and lazy from their post-beach shower. His dad is making dinner, Theo is helping by snapping the ends off the green beans. Buck is enjoying being in a towel and pressed against Tommy's equally warm, damp body in their bed.

“Today was fun,” he says, and Tommy hums in agreement, selecting photos to send to the group chat. “I think my dad and Sal might have been bonding over books.”

“Yeah, or something,” Tommy says mildly, and Buck’s eyes narrow.

—

[corporatebanana]

do you realize 😢

bucktommy - explicit - 1.5k - dacryphilia, frotting, crying during sex, post-reconciliation.

There's just one problem with Tommy crying: Buck's absolutely getting hard listening to Tommy sniffle quietly. He shifts in his seat awkwardly. It's just… nice knowing Tommy trusts him enough to show his tears.

A movie night brings Tommy to tears and Buck to a boner. Tommy is really, really okay with it, though.

you can read "do you realize" on ao3 here!

[nosecrinklewrites]

thought i was going to finish a fic today, alas i did not :( so have some puppy play sequel instead (first snippet here & second snippet here)

”I have a challenge for you.”

”Oh,” Evan perked up. ”What kind?”

”Endurance.”

”You mean like cardio?”

Tommy smiled. ”Sit.”

”Oh!” Evan looked at the couch behind him, and sat down. The smile dropped off his face the moment Tommy's knees touched the floor. ”I don't like this.”

”Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do.”

Evan pouted.

Tommy rubbed his thighs, then pushed them apart, to make room for himself. Slowly, he lowered his face to Evan's lap.

Evan didn't quite manage to bite back an unhappy little sound. He stuck his hands under his thighs, so he wouldn't use them.

Tommy nuzzled him. Evan wasn't hard; he wasn't even firm. It surprised Tommy a bit. He figured Evan would react to the stimulation, even if he wasn't a fan of it, but there was nothing. It wasn't Tommy's go to, but he enjoyed the occasional cockwarming. He figured if Evan didn't like the act itself, he would appreciate the chance to show how good he was at holding back.

Evan squirmed – and sniffled. Tommy raised his head, only to see Evan red around the eyes. He was still sitting on his hands.

Tommy rubbed firmly up and down Evan's thighs. ”Hey, you're OK.”

”I don't like this.”

They had multiple safety features in place. Evan wasn't using any of them, but Tommy could tell he needed to. He sat back on his heels, putting space between himself and Evan's lap.

”We're stopping. I'm calling it.” Evan's bottom lip jutted out a little bit further. He clearly wanted to keep going, even though it was upsetting him. ”Talk to me.”

”You don't belong there,” he said firmly. ”It's my spot, you don't belong there.”

He pulled Evan's hands out from under his thighs. Evan instantly reached for him, grasping for any part of Tommy he could get a hold of.

Before he could spin out too much himself, Tommy did the only thing he could think of. He lied down on the couch and pulled Evan on top of him. Evan tucked his face into the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. His hands clutched at Tommy's clothes, never settling for too long.

Evan shuffled down his body, until his head was resting on Tommy's stomach, where he finally seemed to settle. Tommy was kind of glad for it. This way, Evan couldn't hear his heart racing. Evan was so easy going, it was harrowing to see him as anything but.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

inspired by your salbucktommy tag in the 'sleeping with da fishes' post: pastry chef buck is facing a lot of evidence that his new job is mayyybe a front for the mob, but on the other hand, it means there's no oversight/restrictions from management on his elaborate and experimental confections - so he's keeping his head down and living his dream. but when sal and tommy start checking in on the place more and more often, he gets a little nervous (turns out they don't care about the margins of the business as much as they both have a sweet tooth, for more than just dessert)

OKAY sorry I took a break from these because I was writing SalPhillip and then this AU about Buck and Tommy meeting in Hershey right before Buck leaves home and them kind of road tripping and falling in love. And then an Eddie/Esteban one that has stalled all the way out. But I'm back!

1. Buck goes through culinary school and resigns himself to rolling out croissants every day in some bakery until he hears from a guy that there's a sudden new opening at this restaurant he can't afford to go to but passes by on his way to his bartending job. He figures it'll be a better start than a fast casual bakery or something, so he shows up and interviews with the bar manager. "Yeah, the owners have some business to take care of," the guy, Chimney, says, snapping his gum. "Show us what you got, kid." And Buck realizes this is a practical interview, and he suddenly forgets every quick but good recipe he's ever learned. Chimney lets him loose in the kitchen, and Buck makes three souffles, because he's not sure what they'll be looking for. He does cheese and leek, chocolate, and lemon. "These are French," Chimney observes, peering at them. "We're an Italian restaurant." "Yeah, well, I'd need more prep time for something more, uh, appropriate," Buck says, scratching his neck. "Also, I'm pretty sure Italian people like souffles, right?" Chimney grins at him and picks up a spoon.

2. So Buck doesn't want to stereotype, but he's pretty sure something weird is going on at his new job. He's met the owners exactly once, they're two guys who wear suits and talk quietly to each other and look around suspiciously before having "business meetings" at the more private corner booth. Chimney and Hen, the head chef, make vague references to the previous pastry chef having been "taken care of" when he left. Buck makes a joke about a customer coming back and killing him because he accidentally put raspberry coulis on their chocolate cake when they'd said on the ticket to not put it anywhere near the dish, and the server comes back and says, "The huge, scary guy at six doesn't like raspberries, dude." When Buck gets a new slice and pointedly skips the coulis the way he should've, he says, "Here, now I won't get shanked in the parking lot." And the server snorts and says, "Yeah, like anyone would fuck with any of the staff here, especially you. Our bosses would have them taken out fast." Everyone laughs at that, and Buck laughs nervously with them.

3. The thing is, the owners seem to be happy with Buck's work. They come in, they ask for whatever his special is. He'd asked Mr. Deluca once if they had a specials menu from Eli, the previous pastry chef, and Mr. Deluca laughs and says, "Probably, but do whatever you want, kid. I trust you. You trust me?" And he winks at Buck, which makes his face get warm. "Sal, stop scaring him," Mr. Kinard says, a hand coming down on Buck's shoulder. "We don't need you chasing off another chef." When Buck looks at him, he's grinning broadly, his eyes crinkling. His face gets even hotter. The two bicker all the way into the office. He gets to make whatever the hell he wants, and he does. The special is different every night, it's always based on what he wants to experiment with or what's in season. He makes baked Alaska once, and his new assistant, Ravi, looks like he wants to cry whenever it comes up on a ticket. When the owners come in after hours and split a slice, Buck thanks them for letting him even try. "You can do whatever you want, kid," Mr. Deluca says, waving his spoon. "You sure about that, Mr. Deluca?" Buck asks with a smile. "We trust you, also stop with that shit. Sal," he says before nodding to Mr. Kinard. "And Tommy."

4. The last piece of the puzzle is when there's a big deal about "the family" coming to visit. The restaurant is being shut down for it, and Buck watches as people file in. Older men in crisp suits wearing pinky rings, imposing younger men wearing the same, women in smart clothes with nice jewelry. It's a fucking mob meeting. When he finds out it's happening a few days before, he quietly asks Sal what the head of the family likes for dessert, and Sal looks pleasantly surprised and says, "Cassata." Buck gets to work, doing it himself while Ravi works on assembling everything else that was already planned. Buck is sweating when the cake gets brought out. Twenty minutes later, a tiny woman who looks like she's old enough to remember the day the first flight was taken comes into the kitchen with an empty plate. She zeroes in on Buck and walks up to him, setting the plate down and taking his hand in one of hers. "La cassata è squisita," she says, and he glances up and sees Sal and Tommy hovering near the doors to the kitchen. "G-grazie mille," Buck stammers. When she responds in Italian, he has to explain he doesn't speak it. "We'll change that," she says, patting his cheek with her other hand. "You cook like that, you will learn. Salvatore will help." She says it with a familiar wink, and Sal pinches the bridge of his nose. When she leaves, Sal and Tommy approach. "Thank you," Tommy says, squeezing his bicep. "Nonna's very important, and she gets homesick. That meant a lot to her." Sal nods. "She had tears in her eyes, I don't know what you did but--" Sal cuts himself off and cups Buck's jaw and neck and kisses his cheeks. "You are getting a fucking raise, kid," he says, drawing back with a grin.

5. There's a guy who hangs around sometimes, and Buck is told under no circumstances to talk to or trust him. He's an affable man named Bobby. He looks like a Fed. When he tries to talk to Buck during his break when he's getting a mocktail from the bar, Buck shuts down. He knows. He knows that he's working for some possibly bad people, but they take care of the employees and the community and their customers. He's lost count how many times he's been quietly asked for something sweet for someone who's having a hard time, how many sheet cakes and pies he's made for shelters and centers and fire stations. They're probably fucking murderers (at least by proxy), but they're good people. "Sorry, I can't help you," Buck says, grabbing his drink and going back into the kitchen. It keeps happening, though. He'll be out back tossing trash, Bobby's there. He'll be out in the dining room, Bobby's there. Finally, he has enough and screws up the courage to say something to his bosses.

6. Buck slips into their office one night after closing, and Sal is sitting behind his desk with Tommy perched on the edge. They look happy, relaxed. There's wine that Buck had watched Tommy walk by with earlier when he'd stopped to snag a couple of slices of torte. There's two empty dessert plates that look like they've been licked clean. "Everything okay, Evan?" Tommy asks, standing. Buck looks between the two of them and says, "O-okay. I know what's going on here, and I know I'm not supposed to know about it--" And Sal and Tommy exchange uneasy looks. "--but I'm okay with it. It's fine, I'm just happy to be here. A-and I won't tell anyone, I swear. But there's this guy that keeps hanging around here, a-and I think he's trying to get me to flip on you guys. I won't. I would never, okay?" He's out of breath and red faced and kind of sweating and nervous, because he's trying to project loyalty and please don't have me killed and dumped in the harbor. "I just want to keep making you guys happy," he adds, in case that wasn't clear. And then Tommy kisses him.

7. Bobby's not a Fed, he's the manager of a restaurant that Sal and Tommy used to work for as front of house and kitchen managers. He'd fired Sal, Sal had decided to start his own place, and Tommy followed. They'd poached their old coworkers from other places after they'd been run off by the guy who'd managed the place before Bobby, and Bobby's been trying to poach Buck. The business meetings? They're looking for a third partner to help with some of the day-to-day stuff so Tommy can focus on the helicopter tour business he's been trying to start up. Sal's family just happens to be a bunch of Sicilians, and they'd picked the restaurant for the grown ups only dinner during their family reunion. They ran off old chefs for being more arrogance than talent and for mistreating the staff, and, yeah, a couple were intimidated by Sal. "What about the old pastry chef? Y-you 'took care of him,'" Buck says from where he's sitting on the small couch in their office. He's been kissed by both of them, then kissed again, then he'd burst out something embarrassing about being a mob wife. "Eli? We gave him some money to start his own bakery in Boston," Tommy says, wiping tears from his eyes. He'd been laughing so hard at one point that he'd started crying. "You thought we were in the mob? Even Gambino's out making wine or some shit these days," Sal says, and Buck buries his face in his hands. "You guys were acting weird," he complains. "Yeah, we had a thing for the new pastry chef, that's kind of a no-no," Sal says. "Also, I'm not telling Nonna you thought she was the head of a crime family, it'll go to her head. And she loves you, by the way." Buck peeks between his fingers at them. "She was really nice," he says. "For a cold-blooded murderer," Tommy says dryly, and Sal smacks his arm.

8. Buck officially turns down Bobby's offer but tells him to talk to Sal and Tommy about coming in as a third partner in the restaurant. "They want more time outside of here," Buck says, pushing a bowl of gelato he'd made across the table. "And it sounds like you've got experience. More than just management experience." "Yeah, well, my last restaurant burned down because I cut corners on important things," Bobby says, accepting the bowl and picking up a spoon. "And I lost my family in it." "I'm sorry," Buck says, his heart clenching in his chest. "Won't happen again," Bobby says, taking a bite and smiling. "This is good, kid." Buck smiles and shrugs. "Thanks. It's an easy one," he says. "I gotta go check my cakes. Stick around, Sal and Tommy will be here soon." And Bobby does, and they have a business meeting. Buck sends out matcha tiramisus. After, when handshakes have been exchanged and lawyers are to be contacted, Sal tells Buck to take a break, and he gets pulled into the office and kissed and thanked. "We're closed tomorrow," Tommy says, nuzzling his neck. "Can we take you out? On a date. Not--" Buck groans. "You're never letting that go, are you?" he asks. "Nah," Sal confirms, unbuttoning Buck's coat. "We ain't letting anything go when it comes to you."

9. As a joke, Sal and Tommy use mobster phrases around Buck way too often. He's at the mall with his sister and has an idea when he passes one of those shirt printing shops. Later, he shows up at Sal and Tommy's and presents them with their shirts. "What the--'I'm sleeping with da fishes'?" Sal reads. "What's yours say?" Tommy silently turns his around with a sigh, and Buck unzips his hoodie. "'We're da fishes,'" Sal reads off their shirts, rolling his eyes. "You're such a fucking nerd, come here." He pulls Buck and Tommy to the couch, and Buck gets shoved down on it. "What about dinner?" he asks, grinning. "Fuck dinner," Tommy says, whipping his shirt off. "Yeah, we want dessert, baby," Sal teases, bending to kiss Buck's neck. "Know a good pastry chef?" Buck wriggles happily and spreads his legs for Tommy. "Y-yeah, but I'm pretty sure he works for the mob," he says with a breathless laugh.

10. Sal may or may not have been lightly involved with a certain family when he first moved to LA, but he got out of that fast and doesn't like talking about it. And he was never officially brought in, he just looked the other way on some stuff when he was working at his first restaurant. So he was never actually in the mob, okay?

[thegingerparty]

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.

[letsdosciencetoit]

Sexy Snippet Sunday

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

[nosecrinklewrites]

something sunday

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.

[rcmclachlan]

fuck it friday: go go! edition

Tagged by @devirnis. Thank you!

Here's a little something from the next bit of even up the score.

+

Because he'd been in a desert getting shot at during what would've been his college years, Tommy never had the opportunity to really let his creativity soar by inventing a stupid drinking game. But since he's on the wrong side of 40, he's both making up for lost time and taking the first steps toward a midlife crisis by coming up with one now.

The game is called Did You Honestly Think You Deserved Anything Different? and the rules are: every time Tommy thinks of Evan spitting out I don't have feelings for everyone I sleep with, he takes a drink. There are three empty glasses lined up in front of him and he's just about done with his fourth. He's not sure if that means he's winning.

Smacking his lips, he's just about to flag down Estefania for another glass of Craftsman small batch IPA when someone slides onto the stool next to him.

"Is this a private pity party or can anyone join?"

It's the nature of the beast looking and presenting the way he does, he supposes with an inward sigh, but it never gets any easier explaining to perfectly nice women that they're barking up the wrong tree.

Tommy turns his head to politely turn this newcomer down, then freezes. He'd recognize those eyes anywhere.

"Or is it invitation-only?" Kimberly Hart asks with an impish grin.

+

Tagging: @screamlet, @dharmaavocado, @beanarie, @geddyqueer, @setmeatopthepyre, @capitalnineteen, @nosecrinklewrites, @leashybebes, @mugsywrites, @wearethecyclones, @ashesandhalefire, @peppermintquartz, @liminalmemories21, and anyone else who wants to share with the class!

[leashybebes]

Made-up fic title = heads or tails (alternate title: head or tail 🤪

everything's a road trip fic to me at the moment apparently. OKAY. SO.

buck and tommy, back together, everything's fine, theo's around maybe, idk, on a long school trip or visiting family i dunno man, he's wherever fic writers (or the show, let's be real) send christopher when the grown ups need some time alone.

they realise, hey, wait, we've never actually taken a vacation before, that's weird! they make the initial decision for a road trip over a destination holiday by tossing a coin. and it's fun and silly and they just...roll with it. beach or mountains? toss a coin. ruby's or norm's? toss a coin. turn left or right at the next intersection? toss a coin. who gets to top tonight? toss a coin. stop in this town for the night or keep going? toss a coin.

they're heading back into california, have a couple of days left before they're due home and buck's driving. tommy's fiddling with the coin they've been using this whole trip, an old silver dollar he's had since he was a kid.

"debating dinner?" buck asks.

"heads we swing by reno and get married tomorrow," tommy says. "tails we wait til we're back home."

"i - wh - you found the ring??" buck yells.

"i found the ring," tommy admits.

"god damn it."

[marlenaofnine]

tommy kinard's age: Or, let Buck bounce on that age gap, kids

So. Let's talk about Tommy Kinard's age. Because every time I see him listed as 40 in a current, modern day fic, I lose my mind a little.

Now, obviously , you can do whatever you what in a fic, and I know WHY people do this - some word of god + LFJ's age, with a side helping of That Other Shipper Fandom Doesn't Get to Call Tommy Old if He's Less Than Ten Years Older Than Buck.

However.

Buck is a grown man who canonically dated and changed his life for a woman who was 42 when he was 26 and does not need to be protected from getting his back blown out and his heart claimed by a hot older man.

So, "Tommy Was Born NO Early than 1980 and Is At least 46 in 2026: A Minor Thesis By Me."

First, we know a couple of things about his age from canon:

We know from "Chimney Begins" that Tommy was not a probie in 2005 when Chim joined. So he'd been there at least a year before that. For the sake of making him as young as possible, we will say that he has ONLY been there a year. We also knew that he "learned to fly" in the army.

So, that means:

He had to have joined the LAFD ~2004.

Had to have completed the necessary requirements for army pilots prior to that. For Army pilots joining prior to October 1, 2020, there was a 6 year service requirement after completing flight school.

To be a pilot, Tommy also had to be either a Commissioned Officer OR a Warrant Officer. Assuming he was not an officer, that means he had to complete all of the following before he could becoming a pilot: Army Basic Training, Warrant Officer Candidate School (WOCS), and Army helicopter flight school.

To make Tommy AS YOUNG AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE IN THIS TIMELINE: We'll also assume he joined the army at 17 with parental permission, which you can do because the USA is stupid and because his father seems like the sort - and also because we are going to make Tommy as YOUNG as he can possibly be in 2026 to prove my point:

Age 17: Graduates High school, Enlists in Army and does Basic Combat Training ~ 2.5 months

Age 17: Warrant Officer Candidate School ~1.5 months

Ages: 17–18 Army helicopter flight school (IERW) ~12 months (Can be up to 18 months, but we are making this the shortest timeline possible)

Ages 18–24: Aviation service obligation 6 years

Age 24: Leaves Army (Here, we give Tommy a LOT of assumptive grace. Getting into the LAFD Academy is hard, but we'll assume his officers wrote nice things or whatever and he got in right away.)

Age 24 :LAFD Academy: 22 weeks

AGe 24: Starts Probie Year

Age 25: "Chimney Begins" - has been with LAFD for at least a year. (in 2005)

SO, if he's 25 in 2005, that would make him born in 1980. In 2026, that that makes him no younger than 46. If he's born in 1980, that means he is 11 years older than Buck's 1991 birth year, which is fun and sexy if you aren't boring (and they are not.)

Notes:

Now, in truth, in a realistic timeline, Tommy would be older still.

He'd spent closer to 18 months in flight school and he probably had to take some time to apply/wait/join the LAFD academy, and maybe his parents weren't dicks and made him wait to 18 before he signed his life away to the military and/or maybe he gradated at the age of 18.

There's also issues with waiting for admission to WOCs and flight school.

And we have no IDEA how long he was in the LAFD before Chim came along

Honestly, 48 is more realistic and he could easily be celebrating his 50th birthday OR BEYOND. IF YOU AREN'T A COWARD.

BUT~ if you want him as young as possible, 46 is the bottom floor of what can be going on here in 2026. He can definitely be older, but he can't be younger and have the timeline make any sense.

In conclusion:

Sources:

(Just sources; don't join the military, kids.)

Army Aviation Special and Incentive Pay Policies to Promote Performance, Manage Talent, and Sustain Retention

LAFD requirements recruitment video

Rotary Wing Aviator Warrant Officer 153A

Army Aviation Careers

[dharmaavocado]

I hope I'm not stepping on your toes, @corporatebanana, but your pointy teeth monster theo has bewitched me body and soul. and also activated my weird magical bullshit trap card. So I wrote a ficlet about it.

--

“I'm sorry to bother you,” Evan said with an earnestness that was going to be his downfall one day, “but I don't know who else to ask.”

“It's fine,” Tommy said, even though a year's worth of unanswered texts and ignored calls meant it wasn’t. But that was on Tommy, not Evan, who lost someone he had furiously and joyously loved. Tommy didn’t love like that. He spent the first half of his life unaware it was even possible to love the way Evan did. “What do you need?”

Evan picked at the cardboard sleeve on the coffee cup. Despite the fact it was hot and only going to get hotter, Evan had eschewed his usual over complicated frozen monstrosity in favor of just regular hot coffee. “I have a foster son,” Evan said only to them immediately laughed. “Holy shit, Tommy, you gotta control your eyebrows or I’m never getting through this.”

This turned out to be the last year and half of Evan's life, an insane recitation of insane events made impossibly even more insane by Evan's rehearsed tone, like this was a funny slice of life story he was sick of telling.

“And now Theo is living with you,” Tommy said, eyebrows wrestled back into submission.

“He, uh, doesn't have anywhere else to go,” Evan said, the picking turned into full on shredding. They were going to have to sweep up the mess before going so they wouldn't get banned; it was the only coffee shop that employed a barista who hated everyone but him particularly, which meant she made the best coffee in the entire city. “Kameron’s family kicked her out and Connor was an only child. His parents and aunt aren't able to take care of Theo.” And then, a little guilty: “He needs a lot of attention.”

The old hurt snapped into anger. “He just lost his parents. Of course he needs attention. Jesus Christ, Evan.”

Evan jerked back a little, blinking rapidly in the face of Tommy's misplaced anger. “Hey, I know that, I do.” Evan said it gently, as if in apology even though Tommy was being an asshole. “I just meant that Connor’s parents were older when they had him, and now they’re not able to care for Theo. That's all.”

“No, I’m sorry. That was my own bullshit. I didn't mean to put that on you.” He scrubbed a hand over his face so he didn't have to look at the complicated face Evan was making. “So what do you need me for? Pretty sure your sister or Diaz can give you better parenting advice than whatever I could come up with.”

“You'd be surprised,” Evan said dryly, and pushed his unlocked phone across the table.

The kid that stared up at him was cute, and now that he was looking for it, undeniably Evan's biological kid: same nose, same beaming smile, same—wait. He zoomed in on Theo's smile, trying not to feel exactly like what his father always claimed he was. “Is that...?”

“He gets it from his mom. That’s why her family kicked her out.” Evan’s brave little smile wobbled. “Theo is, uh, he’s like—”

“Like me.” He couldn’t look away from that pointy smile. “Yeah, I don’t think Diaz is gonna cut it for this one.”

The cardboard sleeve had been reduced to its base components. Tommy passed his sleeve before Evan could start in on his cuticles.

“I know we haven’t—that I haven’t—” Evan broke off, frustration pulling the corners of his mouth tight.

“Just say it,” Tommy said, gentle even as he felt the telltale warmth along his spine. Thank god he’d been smart enough to go with a high collar shirt and a hoodie; the only skin showing was his face and hands, which were normal. Safe.

“There aren’t many people like him. Even the social worker doesn’t have many resources.” Evan set the cardboard sleeve aside. “It’s already so hard to be a kid, but this is going to make it—”

“Even worse for him?” He kept his tone level, but Evan flinched as if he shouted.

Evan shook his head. “Kameron and Connor should be the ones helping him and loving him, but now he’s just got me, and I don’t know what I’m doing.” Evan’s jaw set with that earnest determination. Nothing in the world was as devastating as Evan’s sincerity. “He needs people in his corner, and you’re one of the best people I know.”

Tommy closed both sets of eyelids. There it was, just like how he knew it was coming. Evan wanted what he could do but never just wanted him. He couldn’t even be angry about it; it was his own fault for never bother to fucking learn.

“Tommy?” Evan touched the back if his hand.

His opened his eyes. Right now, hidden under the shirt and hoodie and his sturdy boots, he was all lit up, a warning to predators that, hurt or not, the smart move was not to fuck with him. He slid his hand away.

“Does he have any other traits outside of the teeth?” he asked.

Evan stared forlornly after his hand before giving himself a hard shake. “I thought maybe he had like super smell, but turned out it was only for cookies. So just the teeth right now.”

“He’ll probably develop a couple more as he gets older. Puberty is a real bitch. I had terrible growing pains and I was itchy all the time.” The worse part was the never ending deep burns as he grew new nerves and cells and—well, changing in the locker room got a lot more complicated after that.

Evan perked up a little. “Oh, is that when you got the—”

“Yup.” That came out too short and Eva deflated a little. It was hard to tell from just a picture, but he’d bet there were too many teeth for Theo’s small mouth. “You should get him something to chew on.”

“Like a dog toy?” Evan said in an extremely scathing tone.

“First of all, the kid is what, four? He’s going to want to bite anyway but he is definitely going to want to put those chompers to work. And I’m sure they’re bothering him. Chewing will help.” Theo was too young to be able to tell exactly what kind shit got mixed in with the usual genetic make up, but Tommy had a feeling. “Has he lost any teeth yet?”

Evan squinted suspiciously at him. “You mean his baby teeth? He’s like several years away before his adult teeth come in.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about baby teeth. There’s a good chance he’ll lose and regrow them throughout his life. You’re going to need a good dentist. I’ll ask around.”

“Regrow his teeth?” Evan said, ignoring the bit about the dentist, which was fine. Tommy had that part covered. “Like a shark?”

He smiled. “How does the kid handle bath time?”

Evan made the face of every aggrieved parent. “He loves it when he’s actually in the bath, but he hates getting in or out of it. Transitions are hard for him.”

“They’re hard for everyone.” One last look at the picture before he pushed the phone back across the table. “We’ll have to take him down to the beach and see how he does with the actual ocean.”

“You think he’s really like—but you don’t have the teeth,” Evan said. And then, “Wait, we?”

Tommy gave his best nonchalant shrug. “I know what it’s like growing up with an extra rung in your DNA. Like you said, the kid is gonna need people in his corner.”

Evan swallowed hard, clearly fighting his own Buckley DNA to keep from crying. “Thank you,” he said softly, and this time Tommy let Evan take his hand.

“Of course,” he said just as soft, even as his weird, monstrous DNA lit up in a futile effort to ward off danger.

[kitty-tommykinarddefender]

What if Buck started behaving like a cat?

[kitty-tommykinarddefender]

Just a pass-by visit to Daddy Buck at the station after picking up Theo from school☺️

A quick snack and an eternal memory that Tommy will now cherish forever🥹

Thank you @houseofevanbuckley for the suggestion 🫶🏻

[mausspacearchive]

fuck summer i want it to be dark and misty and frigid and october

[rcmclachlan]

even up the score, part one

+

About four months into their relationship, Evan's lying with his head on Tommy's shoulder one night and reading a passage from The Absolutely Bonkers and Horrifically Sad Tales of Evan Buckley's Misspent Youth—this one involves some snot-nosed turd who dared Evan to jump off the Rockville Bridge into the Susquehanna, and Evan being so desperate for someone's approval that he did it—when he pauses mid-sentence. He lifts his head and looks at Tommy with the face of someone who just got accidentally beaned in the head by a stray softball.

"W-Wait, I just realized—I don't think I've ever asked you where you're from. I kind of assumed… but you don't strike me as an LA native."

Tommy snorts. "Did the lack of lip fillers and ass injections give it away?"

The grin that breaks across Evan's face is downright filthy. "Oh, I've examined every inch of that ass and would testify in a court of law that it's 100% real."

Evan always makes him laugh, but sometimes he's just plain hilarious when he wants to be. He's got a killer wit that would give even Howie a run for his money if he ever really let it loose.

Rolling his eyes, Tommy gently cups Evan's cheek tenderly and then shoves his head back down, which makes Evan crack up. Tommy's never had so much fun in bed with anyone before. The sex is insane and he loves every minute of it, but if someone put a gun to his head, Tommy would admit that this is his favorite part: when they're tangled up in sheets that smell like the two of them, their skin stuck together with dried sweat and come, content to just exist in each other's space and talk about nothing in particular. He likes this ridiculous man so much.

"No, but seriously," Evan whines, tilting his chin to sink his teeth playfully into Tommy's collarbone. "Where'd you grow up?"

Tommy actually has an answer for this. He came up with it during the red phase of his basic training—after he made the mistake of telling some kid (who ended up washing out three weeks later) the truth and had to put up with the idiot's incessant questions about whether or not Tommy had ever seen them in action—and has been practicing it ever since.

He opens his mouth to say, "Porterville, up in Tulare County; I was a solid-B student at Strathmore High where there were 104 people in my graduating class; ask me about the town's smog problem or the Tule River War of 1856," because he's padded out the lie with enough research to make any Porterville native believe he's the real deal, but what slides out is, "Angel Grove."

He regrets it immediately when Evan goes stock-still against him and then fights against the push of Tommy's hand to lift his head again. Howie once made a joke about that Studio Ghibli was going to sue the Buckley siblings for copyright infringement when it came to their sad eyes. Tommy hadn't really understood what he meant by that until now.

"Jesus, you could kill someone with those," he mutters, looking away.

"Tommy," Evan says, quietly devastated. "Y-You were there?"

He stares at the thousands of little mountains jutting out from Evan's popcorn ceiling and wishes he could throw himself off of one, but instead he bites out, "Yup."

"I-I was in the third grade, which means you would've been in high school," Evan says, because while the difference between their ages isn't a big deal he's contractually obligated to bring it up in the worst possible ways. "But my friends and I—we watched the news coverage for weeks. We wanted to see footage of them, you know? Hell, w-we wanted to be them. We pretended to be. Scotty Anderson assigned one to each of us and Jamal Bello's mom made us costumes."

That gets Tommy to look back at him. It's not the first time he's heard of kids claiming their colors and mock fighting at recess, but it's definitely the first time he actually cares to hear more. "Yeah? Which one were you?"

"Blue."

"Good choice," Tommy says.

That ought to be that. The next steps for the night should be for Tommy to kiss Evan, lose a layer of skin peeling his body away, and then go hide in the shower for ten minutes before getting out and Door Dashing something from his favorite Haitian place in WeHo. He's been craving fried plantains for a week.

But Evan's always read from a different script, because he follows that up with, "Yeah, I guess, but that's who Jamie picked for me. I wanted to be gree—"

"No, you didn't."

It explodes between them like the crack of a whip, and Evan startles back from the sheer vehemence of it.

Tommy's a little taken aback, too. He's never let his voice rise above a certain volume unless he's trying to be heard over wind and rotor blades. He's never yelled at a significant other. It drove Abby insane that he wouldn't shout during their fights. She thought it meant he didn't care. He didn't know how to explain that he used to shout so much that he had a constant sore throat for the entirety of his junior year and didn't want to feel that particular pain ever again. 

"I—Christ, I'm sorry." Tommy clears his throat, swollen with a phantom rawness. "Sorry, Evan. I-I didn't mean to yell. I just meant… blue really was a good choice. Suits you, honestly. I always liked that one."

A tentative smile tugs at Evan's mouth and Tommy hates that he's the reason there's even a little uncertainty in Evan's expression, but one of the many things he admires about Evan is his ability to rally. 

"So… you really were there," Evan says again. "That day."

Exhaling through his nose, Tommy thinks fondly of the shower he's not currently taking. "I was."

"D-Do you mind me asking… what it was like? I know it must've been scary, but… it must've been so cool, too. I mean, getting to see them fight. Was it cool?"

He doesn't remember the actual fight, but he does remember how his helmet cut into his cheek because the visor had shattered. He remembers Zach's gasping breaths and the sound of Kimberly sobbing and Billy's frantic mumbling about probabilities and timelines, and how Jason screamed that none of it would have happened if Tommy had just been strong enough to withstand Rita. He remembers wondering why victory felt so much like defeat. He remembers how heavy Trini's body was in his arms as he carried it to the riverbank on the edge of town and how she was swallowed up by the small bed of daisies he laid her on. He remembers the grinding pain of his broken ankle and ribs with every step he took toward home. He remembers the way gold stuck like treacle to every surface in the city center and how it smelled like absence. He remembers the massive burial they held for everyone who died. He remembers sneaking his dad's revolver out of its safe and sitting in the yard with the barrel in his mouth, waiting to see the sun one last time. He remembers how hard his dad's fist hit his healing cheekbone when his dad found him with it. He remembers the name of the recruiter he talked to the next day—Mark Machado. He remembers the pen he used to fill out the forms was a Uni-ball Vision with blue ink; Mark let him keep it after welcoming him to the Army. He remembers trying to salute, but being unable to because of his ribs. He remembers throwing his power coin at Kim when she found him at the bus stop and begged him to stay.

"Yeah," Tommy rasps. "It was cool."

A smug smile splits Evan's face as settles back down, snuggling as close as possible. "I knew it."