Buck is a few shots deep (when did he switch to shots?) with his new bar buddy. An attractive older guy who, as it turns out, also used to work at the 118 under Captain Nash.
"You worked with Bobby?" Buck lights up and rambles on before the guy can answer. "That means you must've worked with Hen and Chim, right?"
The guy mumbles a few things that Buck can't hear, and probably doesn't want to, before confirming he worked with Hen and Howie.
"Yeah, right. Howie. You know he married my sister? Gave me the cutest little niece." Buck beams and pulls out his phone to show off the album of Jee Yun photos. And then the other thought strikes again.
They look about the same age. It's possible, he thinks. Well, it's not impossible. Buck goes to pocket his phone again, only he misses his shirt entirely and it clatters on the table.
"Sorry 'bout that, uh, so if you worked with them- did you, uh, work with, uh, T-tommy? Tommy Kinard?"
Why is the name that used to slide off his tongue so easily now trip and stutter like it doesn't belong there?
The guy laughs, not seeming to notice Buck's elocution issues, and takes another shot. “Fuck, I’m getting too old for this shit.”
He spins the empty shot glass like a top. “Kinard? Yep, sure did. One of the best partners I could've asked for. At least he got to leave on his own terms.”
Buck furrows his brow, something familiar scratching at the back of his tequila addled brain. “What, uh, what did you say your name was again?”
“I didn’t,” the guy says matter of factly.
“But, you seem like a nice guy, so I'll tell you," he adds with a wink. "It’s Deluca. Sal Deluca.”
Buck's heard the name, a few stories here and there. Heard he moved to the 122, but doesn't know why.
"You transferred, right?" Buck asks cautiously.
The guy - Sal - shrugs his acknowledgement. "More or less. Anyway, I guess I better amend my introduction then. It's actually Captain Deluca. But Sal is fine. Or just Deluca."
"Buck."
Sal looks at him like he's got three heads. "Is that something new the kids are saying these days or...?"
"No, uh, 's m'name. Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck."
Sal studies him for a second before holding a hand out. "Nice to meet you, kid."
They shake hands and Buck thinks about the way Sal called him 'kid'. It's not like when Tommy said it. More like Bobby or Chim. Familial.
"Sorry to drink and run, but I gotta get home," Sal says, pushing out of his chair. "Wife's gonna kill me if I'm home too late."
"Oh, yeah. Sure. Maybe I'll see you around."
"Yeah, maybe." Then he's throwing some cash on the table and walking away.
~~~~~
As soon as he's out of sight, Sal taps on the camera app. It's probably a little unethical to surreptitiously be taking photos of the kid- Buck- but it's for a good cause.
Once upon a time he might have tried to pick him up, something about the kicked puppy look pulls at his heartstrings. Among other things. But now he's a happily married man with a whole brood to think about. Gina really would kill him, decorated fire captain or not.
He swipes over to messages and fires off a quick text.
Met your boy tonight. Christ Kinard he’s as bad as you. Should really put yourselves out of your collective misery.
It doesn't take long before the bubbles appear.
I did, remember? It's better this way.
Sal attaches the picture this time.
Better for who, exactly?
The bubbles appear and disappear again, until his screen eventually goes dark and no more responses come. Sal sighs and gets in the cab of his truck, contemplating another text, but ultimately decides against it. Tommy will talk when he's ready.
He steals another glance through the giant plate glass window where Buck is still sitting, sullen and lost, albeit with what looks like water this time.
"I hope it works out, kid, and he doesn't wait too long." Sal pushes aside the phantom acrid scent of a dinner forgotten in the oven while they fucked on the kitchen floor, the fear in Tommy's eyes when Sal asked when they could tell people about them. Because it had been months of sneaking around to each other's apartments. Of being more than just work partners- or so he thought. "Maybe he'll get his head out of his ass before it's too late this time."
can nobody hear me? (i've got a lot that's on my mind)
some EddieKaren thoughts that have been rolling around my brain since the end of S7 🫶
“How did you do it?” Eddie asks, staring into the wine glass loosely held in his grasp.
“Do what?” Karen raises a brow at him before taking a sip of her Pinot Noir.
Eddie decides that’s a good idea, too. Something he can do to stall while the full bodied liquid bursts with flavor on his tongue. Earthy, oaky, all the little nuanced notes Eddie’s never been able to discern quite like other people. He knows hops, summer ales and IPAs, but tannins or detecting Napa versus some remote region in France? Not really his forte.
“The empty room,” he finally supplies. “When-"
He doesn’t finish his sentence - can’t finish it - but he doesn’t think he’ll have to.
“Oh.” Karen slowly lowers her glass to the coffee table and folds her hands in her lap.
“The first night-“ She fixes her gaze on a spot by the door, as if she expects to relive the nightmare all over again at any moment. “The first night without Mara was absolute hell. We sat in her room for hours, me and Hen. Like worried parents waiting up for someone we knew wasn’t coming.”
She continues to stare, clicking her thumbnails together. “In the morning it was almost worse. To wake up and remember all over again. To realize nothing had changed except the position of the sun. Our daughter was still gone. Ripped right out from under us.”
He watches as her jaw ticks and she swallows down the bitter memories. She finally looks at him, her face painted with compassion and a watery smile. “But life didn’t stop. No matter how much we wanted it to. We still had Denny. He reminded us that we weren’t the only ones hurting.”
Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his chair, wanting to hide from her subtle insinuation. The way she always sees through him.
“It was him and trying to figure out how to get Mara back. How to get our family back. That's what kept us going. What kept us from giving up on everything else.”
A tangle of emotions sits in his chest, barbed wire slowly ensnaring his heart and lungs. He doesn’t have another kid to keep him afloat, or a villain councilwoman to fight. Only himself. Well, him and his demons. The voices in his head telling him he should have died in Afghanistan. Or on the sunny streets of LA. The insistent whispers that he should have skipped the step where he dared to hope, that he should have conceded Chris to his parents in the beginning. He wishes fixing this was as easy as convenient body cam footage.
“Hey.” Karen lightly touches his shoulder, just enough to remind him she’s still there. “He’ll come back.”
It’s meant to be a comfort, he knows that. Except it feels like a platitude, the way people say ‘remember the good times’ when someone close dies. A part of him wants to throw the wine, to ask how she can say that. Because she doesn’t know. Just like Eddie didn’t know he would ever have to be without Chris again. A different piece of him wants to throw a tantrum. He wants to be the one screaming for once and making demands of the unfeeling universe.
Instead, he gives her a tight nod. “I hope so.”
Beloveds and Moots, I made (another) series. This was originally a multi chapter but that wasn't jiving with me, so I turned each prompt into it's own work. Without further ado...
all this love melting under blue skies | ratings vary
Part 1 - he makes me feel like I'm flying | T | 270
Part 2 - your smile and the sound of your voice | T | 1.2k
Part 3 - there's a bunch of broken pieces inside me | M | 1.2k
Tagged by the oh so lovely and talented @elvensorceress and @bidisasterevankinard for this fine Sunday (go check their words if you haven’t!) 💖
Some more mer!buck. Follows this snippet (one day I’ll write myself out of this section…)
“You ‘nly h’ve two.”
“What?”
“Sorry,” Evan says again, taking his hands away. “I said ‘you only have two’. Like, just two pointy teeth.”
Eddie’s grin widens, showing them off, running his tongue over them. They’re so…. odd and he can’t help wanting to get closer.
His parents are always telling him to stop being so rude and curious, but he can’t seem to stop himself. It’s like there’s a mechanism built into his body, constantly compelling him forward. If he could find the off switch that would make him behave and fit in, he would flip it in an instant.
“Really? Just two? What good is it only having two?” Maybe there’s more further back that Evan can’t see. He uses his arms to push himself up, allowing him to flop his whole body on the sand next to Eddie. Despite their looks the teeth feel almost dull under his fingertips as he gently presses them, making Eddie laugh.
“Oh.” Eddie’s laughter dies, but not in the frightened way it had before.
“Oh?” Triton, what’s he done now?
Ever so slowly a half smile returns, lighting Eddie’s features up with awe and fascination. “You have a tail. Because of course you do.”
thought i planned for everything (just didn’t count on you) | 1.6k | E (BuckTommy)
Earlier today I promised my wife @bidisasterevankinard an incentive for studying in exchange for making her think about too many WIP ideas. Since husband @diazsdimples is also going through it with schooling, this is for both of you 😘 ps: idk anything about what certs and licenses and stuff Tommy would need. Just roll with it and be nice, yeah? Also, this is unbeta’d so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t.
Tommy scrubs at his forehead, blowing out a frustrated breath. He’s looked at the material in front of him for months now, determined to ace his recertifications. And it had been going well. Really well, in fact. He had a study schedule mapped out, accounting for his shifts and time with friends. He even left a small margin for the unexpected. There was just one factor he hadn’t accounted for. Evan.
The past few years of dating haven’t exactly gone anywhere serious. Some casual dates, one that he thought could go the distance but only broke his heart. So the expectation of having that feeling again? Of having someone thoughtful and caring, who gives him butterflies and makes him want things? Pretty much zero.
But then a hurricane happened. Actual and metaphorical. It tore through his life, upending the idea that love – or anything close to it – just wasn’t in the cards for him. And when everything settled, there was Evan. Evan, who asks how his shift was, tells him when he gets back from a call, and turns a pretty shade of pink as he blushes and says ‘I missed you’.
Tommy doesn’t regret any of it, but he does wish the universe’s cosmic timing could’ve held off just a little longer. At least until the state of California tells him what he already knows and says he’s fit to pilot an aircraft.
A knock on the door gets his attention, but he seriously contemplates ignoring it. He didn’t order anything and he doesn’t have plans. Unfortunately, the first responder in him can’t help wondering if one of his elderly neighbors needs something.
Fine. He sets down the pen he’s been chewing on and reminds himself it’s been too long since he stood up and walked around anyway.
“Evan?” Tommy asks, surprised to see him standing there. He instinctively looks him up and down for obvious injuries or signs of distress, but finds nothing. Only his gorgeous boyfriend, smiling coyly. “I didn’t forget about a date, did I?”
“No, uh, nothing like that. Because you are supposed to be studying.” Evan raises one eyebrow like Tommy is in the wrong for answering his own door after somehow manifesting Evan’s presence.
“And yet here you are.”
“Here I am,” Evan says shyly. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of your time lately and wanted to help.”
For the first time, Tommy notices Evan’s got his hands behind his back and wonders what his definition of ‘help’ is. He’s dressed down, soft and adorable in a hoodie and joggers, so it’s unlikely to be a booty call. Though not completely out of the question. And not that Tommy would complain either.
“Did you bring flashcards or something?”
“As a matter of fact…” Evan steps over the threshold, past Tommy, like he owns the place. While shy, demure Evan is a favorite, confident Evan is by no means a turn off. Especially as he whirls around and proudly holds up a set of blue, yellow and pink index cards. “I did.”
“Evan-”
“A few nights, when I couldn’t sleep, I might have taken some notes of my own. And, like I said, thought I could make myself useful for my hot, pilot boyfriend.” He rocks up on his tiptoes, capturing Tommy’s lips for a chaste kiss before he meanders to the kitchen.
Tommy pushes the door closed, following Evan where he lays the cards down on the table, opposite the books and manuals Tommy has scattered. Evan walks to the cabinets and helps himself to a glass, filling it with water before returning. Next he makes himself comfortable in a chair, sitting slightly back with his legs spread apart.
“So, can I help?”
There’s a glimmer of mischief in the way Evan looks at him now that has his heart racing. Like helping is the last thing Evan plans to do.
Tommy gathers himself enough to sit down in his own seat and flashes Evan a confident smirk.
“Do your worst, kid.”
“I’ll start with an easy one. What is the atmospheric gas composition?”
“Twenty-one percent oxygen, seventy-eight percent nitrogen, one percent other,” Tommy rattles off.
“Well done.” Evan flicks the card down then casually leans over to untie one shoe and slip it off.
“What are you-”
Evan clicks his tongue, tutting in fake admonishment. “Can’t tell you all my secrets, baby. Next question. Each one hundred meter climb in elevation causes a temperature drop of what?”
“One degree Celsius.”
Evan simply grins and removes his other shoe, leaving him in socked feet. Tommy would be lying if he said his dick wasn’t taking interest now that he’s caught on to Evan’s game. It is thoroughly unhelpful.
“PAIP should be implemented how many minutes after an aircraft fails to give its position report or is overdue for arrival?”
“Fifteen. Got anything harder for me?”
Evan’s tongue darts out, licking along his lower lip. “Oh, you bet I do.”
Tommy takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure and think about… anything except bending Evan over the table. If only it was that simple.
They repeat the process, volleying questions and answers back and forth until Evan’s stripped down to his boxers, his cock obviously hard and leaking beneath the tented fabric. It’s distracting as hell and Tommy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to concentrate.
“Come on, old man,” Evan teases, palming himself lazily. “Lives are on the line here. You need to be able to think under tense conditions.”
“You’re such a brat.” Tommy’s jeans press uncomfortably on his own straining erection and he doesn’t bother to stop himself from mirroring Evan’s movements.
“Yeah, but I’m your brat.” Evan applies more pressure, letting out an obscene moan as he strokes himself. “Or I could be – ahh – if you get this – mmph – question right.”
“Fuck, Evan.” Tommy undoes his belt and zipper, creating the tiniest bit of relief.
“That’s the idea. Even – oh, fuck – wore the new plug I told you about.”
Christ, Evan’s gonna kill him before they get the chance to see this all play out. And that’s unacceptable.
“Don’t stop,” Tommy orders, stalking off to grab the lube stashed in the couch cushions. When he returns, Evan is still stroking himself exactly like he was instructed. “Good boy, Evan. Doing what I told you.”
Tommy grips his chin and crashes their mouths together in a filthy kiss, delighted as Evan makes the most beautiful whine.
“But, you – ah – didn’t answer me,” Evan protests when they separate.
“Myoglobin.” He leans close to Evan’s ear, nipping at the lobe. “Lesson’s over, kid. Face down over the table. Naked. Now.”
Evan nearly trips over himself, leaping up from his chair and shoving his boxers down. He drapes himself over the piles of papers and index cards, wiggling his ass like he’ll die if he has to go one more second without being fucked.
“Gotta say, I like your methods,” Tommy murmurs, starting to work the plug in and out, tracing his other hand along Evan’s bare skin. “But now I think it’s time for your reward. Don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, yes. Please.”
“So desperate, my Evan,” Tommy coos. “Thought you would be in control, getting me all worked up. And here you are, laid out so gorgeously for me, just begging for it.”
Tommy pulls the plug out completely, discarding it to the floor. Evan keens and clenches around nothing, just waiting to be full again.
“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” Tommy shoves his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. He slicks himself up with the lube and smears a generous amount on his fingers, fucking them in and out of Evan’s hole. Just enough to ease the way.
“Tommy,” Evan pants, practically crying when he pulls out.
He lines himself up, gripping Evan’s hips and pushing in without additional warning. He doesn’t pause for adjustments before he sets a relentless pace. It’s unlikely either of them are going to last, but he’s not going for longevity here.
Evan curls his hands around the edges of the table, leveraging it to fuck himself back against Tommy’s cock. It’s stunning and breathtaking, the rhythm they’re creating. A symphony of moans, squelches and skin against skin.
Soon the familiar heat pools in his belly, bringing him closer to the edge.
“Ohfuuuuck,” Evan moans, purposely tightening around him.
Tommy digs his fingertips into Evan’s sides, the world around him being reduced to static and white noise as he comes, filling Evan up. He thinks he might shout Evan’s name, but he’s not really sure, nor does he really care as he slumps forward, draping himself across Evan’s glistening skin.
“Gimmeasec,” he mumbles. “I’ll take careayou.”
“No need,” Evan murmurs back. “All good.”
Tommy presses a lazy kiss to Evan’s spine, enjoying the resulting small shudder. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He kisses another ridge, and another, before answering. “For taking notes. For caring. Wanting to help out. For being you.”
“It wasn’t too much?” Evan whispers, hesitantly.
“Never,” Tommy assures him, dropping gentle kisses over his neck and shoulders, mindful of the mess forming between them as he maneuvers to properly reach. “Never too much, baby.”
He bites back words that are too early to say, even if he definitely feels them. Has felt them building in his chest, creating a near endless chant. He wonders how long he’ll be able to smother them before they burst forth. Hopefully long enough. Enough for Evan to feel them, too. For Evan to want to stay.
“Clean up and nap?” Tommy asks instead.
“Sounds good. Earned it.”
Tommy huffs an amused sound against Evan’s skin before pressing one last kiss there. God, I hope so, kid.
tagged recently by a few folks, but just have not had anything to share (thankssomuch, Work) Offering some mer!Buck today. It's-been-84-years-dot-gif b/c one section was giving me a hell of a lotta trouble. It still is so I moved on for now. Here's Eddie contemplating a pre-Basic trip to the coast. For no reason, of course, why do you ask?
Not to mention he should be spending what’s left of his freedom with Shannon, his wife and future mother of their child.
He should want to do that anyway, and he does. They’ve spent every second they can together – looking at apartment options, ogling clothes and other baby needs that are insanely out of their price range, choosing potential names. Weirdly, it’s been like a dream come true, even if the timing is anything but perfect. But there’s been a shadow clouding it all, too. The dose of reality when they told their parents. The sharp truth that their minimum wage jobs weren’t going to cut it. The continuous hurt and disappointment emanating from Shannon when he thought he was doing the right thing by signing up for the military.
Of course it’s not ideal, but it’s a means to provide, to take care of her and their future. A little time to toughen up in a space away from his parents while doing something that matters. He wants to become the sort of person his family needs him to be.
In the best case scenario he stays local, does his time, and they’re good to go. A shining spot on his resume that helps them along, no harm, no foul. And in the worst case scenario- well, Shannon and his mother remind him enough about that far too often. He knows what could happen. Maybe that’s why today he has to take the time and space he needs. To be a little selfish and rash.
Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair as a distraction, because it’s not just the friction with Shannon that has him restless. There’s something else, a sensation he can’t seem to ignore, no matter how hard he tries. A persistent pull on an invisible thread wound through his ribs, tugging sharply at him. Beckoning him. He could pretend he doesn’t know where it’s coming from, or where it leads, but that would be a lie, too.
He'd be stupid to pretend the relationship between him and Evan hadn’t shifted last time, something dually palpable and nebulous. Too vague to specifically identify, but maybe that was more because they were too cowardly to say it out loud. Even if they had, Eddie had Shannon. He has Shannon. And, soon, their baby. Not like that was a factor at the time.
tagged by the lovely @diazsdimples @tizniz @daffi-990 @rewritetheending (go check their amazing stuff!) 💖
some words from what I'm informally calling the Buck Bobby con fic
“Hey, Pops!” Buck bursts into Bobby’s office with his usual enthusiasm. Which is to say all the energy of a golden retriever who hasn’t been fully house trained. That’s what Hen and Chim always tell him. Bobby’s face seems to confirm it with the way his eyebrows raise and he tilts his head. Buck swallows, trying not to let it deter him.
“What do you think?” He holds out the lapels of his new suit, twirling in a circle to show off. He’s never had a suit like this one before. It’s a simple charcoal gray color, but the cut and fit are incredible. Nothing like the time he needed something formal for homecoming. His parents had him pick a blazer, shirt, pants and tie off the rack at a local department store. Everything about that ensemble was slightly off, like he was a kid playing dress up.
It’s nice to have something so custom and fine tuned to his body. Something that’s his.
“I told you, don’t call me ‘Pops’, kid.” Bobby sighs, looking back down at the blueprints on his desk. He smooths them out, even though they’re already anchored down with various items from around Bobby’s desk. His finger traces over faint white gridlines. “This isn’t an adoption agency, it’s a- well, you know the gig. I have my business and you have yours.”
“Uh, right. Thanks.” Buck rubs the back of his neck. He feels a bit like a puppy that peed on the rug. He knows Bobby hates getting interrupted. It’s just that Bobby’s always so busy and Buck wants to show him how he’s growing, becoming more mature since he joined the team. It’s only been four months, and Buck can more than get by on the simpler heists, but he’s eager to prove he can be a dependable asset for bigger jobs. That he can keep up with Hen and Chim, and maybe one day run a job on his own.
np tagging (lmk if you want added or removed for this one) @actuallyitsellie @diazheartsbuckley @dangerpronebuddie @saybiwithme @bidisasterevankinard
It’s still Saturday somewhere right??? For the fabulous @daffi-990 who conspired to bring this idea about. And also because I’ve maybe been torturing her hinting I’ve had a surprise for the last several days…
The Players:
Robert “Bobby” Nash - Asset Management (officially). Unofficially, a former banker who got tied up in a bad investment, causing him and dozens of others to lose everything. Bobby more than most. He’s a recovering alcoholic on a mission to steal from the rich and corrupt, and give back to their victims.
Athena Grant - LAPD sergeant who’s had her eye on Bobby for years, unable to catch a break in the case. He may be good at covering his tracks but she’s better. And Sgt Grant always gets her man.
Evan “Buck” Buckley - Associate. A young kid who steals for the thrill, but also to payoff his brother-in-law to ensure Maddie’s safety. Buck eventually winds up in Bobby’s company, sticking to his own agenda. Until the day that Doug’s asking price becomes too high and Buck finds himself needing a much bigger mark. Someone like…
Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz - war vet with a silver star and LA’s most eligible bachelor, who also happens to be pretty as sin. Oh, and has more money than god.
The Gig
Team up with Bobby to get the money Buck needs to save his sister, and hopefully get rid of Doug for good. Also, not allowing aesthetics to distract him from all the zeros in Diaz’s accounts. A target like this guy isn’t going to miss the amount Buck needs. Besides, it’s for a good cause. He’ll be in and out before anyone notices anything’s amiss.
