I was tagged by @setmeatopthepyre and @trombonechurchill.
No pressure tagging @nobigsecrets!
This is uh. This is an accident. I don't have anymore? Not yet? I shouldn't be coming up with anymore ideas, someone needs to thwack me with a broom.
Anyways! What if Tommy did more than just fly helicopters in the army?
•
Tommy carries concealed.
And yeah, it’s Los Angeles, but it’s not that weird. At least not in Buck’s opinion. Uncommon sure, but not weird. Tommy grew up in a rural area where guns were all over the place, where hunting culture was ingrained in every day life. He was in the army. It makes sense that he’d carry sometimes.
It really is only sometimes. Tommy’s got a mini safe in the truck, and whenever they go places with large NO FIREARMS ALLOWED signs on the front, Tommy dutifully locks it up. Buck has never seen Tommy bring the gun when they go to watch Jee, or hangout with Christopher. When Tommy’s on shift it stays locked up in the truck, and when he’s at home it stays either in the gun safe there, or on the counter.
It’s very much a non-entity. Buck knows about it, is used to it. He knows that Tommy wears an over shirt so that the bulk of his holster isn’t obvious, and that’s why he’s still layered up even when it’s pushing 100 degrees in the summer. Buck’s even shot it a few times, because Tommy goes to the gun range with Sal once or twice a month. It’s always fun, not really for him, but they get dinner afterwards at a Thai place that has drunken noodles to die for.
All in all, Buck doesn’t think about it very much.
Until he does.
•
It’s been six months since they figured their shit out. Since they made the decision to try again, to be purposeful about it. Tommy’s driving, one hand on the wheel and the other on Evan’s thigh. Buck’s busy wiggling further down in his seat to get Tommy’s hand higher, while Tommy laughs at him.
Tommy turns into the cul-de-sac, and his laughter stops on an inhale.
“Tom?” Buck asks curiously, sitting up all the way, “What–”
He follows Tommy’s line of sight, and he can see ‘what’ clear as day. There’s a woman on Tommy’s front porch, standing ramrod straight next to the planter by the front door, hands folded in front of her. She looks a little older than Tommy, with her graying hair pulled back into a tight French braid.
“Who’s that?” Buck asks curiously.
“We were enlisted together,” Tommy says.
“Oh,” Buck says dumbly. It’s weird to think about it, that there are people who knew Tommy before he transitioned. Obviously they must exist, but Buck has never met any of them. He cocks his head to the side and peers at her.
“Baby,” Tommy says quietly, his face going stony and serious in a way that Buck’s only ever seen when he’s stolen a helicopter, “Would you mind staying in the truck for a bit?”
“Sure?” Buck says with a frown, looking from Tommy to the woman on the porch and back to Tommy again. He’s curious, but he also trusts that Tommy will explain everything eventually. Surely there’s no harm in waiting?
Tommy parks in the driveway instead of pulling into the garage. He turns the truck off, and gives Buck’s thigh a firm squeeze before pulling his hand away. And then Tommy does something Buck has never fucking seen him do before. Casually, with the same motion he uses to put his keys in his pocket, Tommy reaches down to his holster and snaps open the button keeping the gun in place.
“Nope!” Buck changes his mind immediately and loudly, “I’m not staying in the fucking truck Tommy. What’s going on?”
“Yeah, figured you wouldn’t,” Tommy sighs.
Tommy’s gaze is still trained on the woman on the porch. She’s watching them, a bland smile on her face. She lifts a hand up and waves, looking mildly bored. Reflexively, Buck returns the gesture. Tommy does not.
“Evan,” Tommy says, finally pulled his eyes away from the woman and looking at Buck, “Just do me a favor then, okay? Let me do the talking.”
“Okay,” Buck says, uneasy.
The woman doesn’t move as they get out of the truck, but her bland smile gets thinner.
“Rutger,” Tommy greets with a flat voice, “Is it still Commander?”
“No,” She says, but doesn’t elaborate, “You look… different. It suits you.”
“Why are you here?” Tommy asks bluntly, ignoring her comment.
They come to a stop a few feet away from the steps onto the porch. Buck resists the urge to reach out and grab Tommy’s hand. It’s hovering up by his hip, by his holster, deceptively casual. Buck knows that both him and this Rutger lady are very aware of it.
“Can’t I just want to say ‘hello’ to an old friend?” She asks primly.
“I wouldn’t say we were ever friends, ma’am,” Tommy snaps.
“Fair enough,” She sniffs, and glances around, “Can we take this inside?”
“No.” Tommy says firmly.
“I’m not sure if this is something Mr. Buckley should hear,” Rutger says, just as firm.
The way she says his name makes a shiver slide down Buck’s spine. On instinct, he reaches out and touches the small of Tommy’s back.
“Have we met?” Buck asks, forgetting Tommy’s request from earlier.
“No,” She says dismissively, before turning her attention back to Tommy, “I guess it won’t matter for long. They’ve been asking about you.”
“Too damn bad,” Tommy says.
“I’m here as a courtesy, Kinard,” Rutger says. She takes a deep breath, “Able Baker.”
Her voice cracks on the last syllable, and she purses her lips tightly. For the first time, she looks something besides bland, besides bored.
She looks scared.
Tommy visibly tenses. Buck’s hand clutches at Tommy’s shirt without any input from his brain.
“…Shit,” Tommy says, and now he’s the one glancing around the neighborhood, “Fucking shit god dammit Marge. Are you serious?”
Buck doesn’t think he’s ever heard Tommy swear like that.
“Yes,” She nods once, sharply, “Can we go inside now?”
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