#delete the apps

[emakataken]

This was written for @911postcards and for one of my favorite people @fuselsstuff. Thank you for collecting me when I didn’t know I needed to be found. Your friendship means more than I’ll ever be able to fit into a postcard. I love you dearly. 😘💚🧡💜

The paint in the kitchen is still drying, windows cracked to let the smell out. Sal’s out back with the toolbox, arguing with a stubborn hinge while the radio blasts Linkin Park. The walls are primed white, and Evan’s eyes narrow as he tries to tell the difference between the shades of gray Sal gave him to choose from.

He sits at the folding table they’ve been using for meals, sandwich forgotten on the paper plate beside him. There’s a postcard he had printed, a photo he took of the house the day they closed. It’s nothing fancy: three bedrooms, a mailbox, a backyard just big enough for a swing set, a grill, and a few chairs. But it’s theirs.

He takes the card and uncaps a pen.

Maddie, I finished my probational year last week. They put my name on my helmet. Buckley… feels like I earned it. I don’t know if you ever read the ones I sent before. That’s okay. I used to write you to keep from feeling like I wasn't alone in the world. I guess this is the last one. Eight years is a long time to wait for a reply. I’m still waiting. But I have to let go of that dream so I can make new ones. I just wanted you to know I’m good. Better than I’ve been in a long time. I’ve finally found home. Made home. I don’t know ... I just know I’ve got it. I’ve made it with Sal. He’s kind of an asshole, but he’s patient, steady, and the type of person who fixes things instead of throwing them out. Oh… He’s a Lieutenant for the 122. He’ll be Captain soon. We just put down roots or whatever, bought a little house. Half the rooms need work, but we’ve got time. I traded the Jeep for something that doesn’t break down every other week. We turned the garage into a gym, half workshop. He swears we’ll get a couch that isn’t borrowed from his cousin before winter. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. One last note. Isn’t it amazing how people can feel like home? Evan

He reads it twice before letting out a quiet sigh and setting the pen down.

Outside, Sal calls through the screen door, “Mook, you gonna help or just sit on your fuckin’ ass all day?”

Buck grins, places the postcard on top of the stack of bills by his keys. “Coming,” he calls back, grabbing two beers from the cooler on his way out.

[emakataken]

EMMMMMMM!

Tell me something about...(I bet you'll never guess which one I'm gonna pick)

...Delete the Apps

(My second choice was actually SalBuckGina/Entre Nous Trois)

Delete the Apps is what happens when Buck’s abandonment issues meet Sal Deluca’s control issues and instead of ruining each other, they accidentally create something hot and worth fighting for. I'm just finished plotting the next arc and have started writing the next chapter.

-- SBG -- @thecarrott

Gina watches him do it from the hallway, arms crossed, one shoulder against the wall.

"We're fine," she says.

"I know you're fine."

Sal turns and looks at her. She smiles. He crosses the kitchen and cups her face in both hands and kisses her the way he always does before a shift thorough, unhurried, like he has all the time in the world when both of them know he has about four minutes.

"Twelve hours," she says against his mouth. "You'll be home before breakfast."

"Twelve hours," he agrees as he pulls back and tucks a curl behind her ear. "Don't wait up."

“Don't get up early."

"I won't."

"I'll make breakfast." Sal promised as he steps back.

Buck is in the hallway behind them, fresh out of the shower, tie half-done, squinting at his own reflection in the mirror, struggling with a Windsor knot.

"Here." Sal steps in without being asked, batting Buck's hands away, and does the tie himself in about fifteen seconds. Smooths it flat against Buck's chest. Tugs his collar straight. Steps back and assesses him with the same critical eye he turns on his crew, and he must find him acceptable because he nods.

He leans forward and captures Buck's lips in a quick kiss. "Have fun," Sal instructs as he picks up his keys and walks out the door.

Buck looks between and Sal and Gina with big blue eyes.

Gina watches his face surprise, warmth, something softer underneath both of those and then the careful reassembly of someone who doesn't want to be caught feeling too much.

She crosses the hallway.

Takes the end of his tie.

Leads him toward the door.

"Come on baby boy," she says. "Our reservations are at eight."

Buck follows, because Buck always follows when she has hold of him, which is something she figured out approximately a few hours into knowing him and has not stopped using to her advantage since.

[emakataken]

I am **obsessed** with Delete the Apps! You are the whole reason SalEvan has taken over my brain. That being said--thank you! I'm really looking forward to reading more.

anon, first of all, kisses directly to your forehead.

I’m still genuinely shocked that Delete the Apps took off the way it did. It was only ever supposed to be little bite-sized snippets I tossed into the void. Now I’m playing catch up and trying to figure out the plot… but I might just let these boys do them and see where we end up. 😉

[milfmilkersinc]

I think the best response to AI is to stop using the internet.

If we all leave, live our lives touching grass, all AI will have to work off of is the billions of artwork that has already been posted, and it's self.

AI can't paint on a canvas, AI can't knit a scarf. Community is far more difficult to create, but there's no community if you never talk with real people in real life.

The internet has become a place where creativety dies, where people become scared.

The intetnet was never something we needed. Social media was never something we needed.

Return to monkey.