your salbucktommy pieces have bewitched me, body and soul
I know that this is not a prompt or a request, it is you being kind (and I love you for it) but:
Ma used to warn him that he needed to rein in his emotions and his intentions when he cooked anything, whether it was a potion or a sauce. So Sal treats cooking like a form of meditation, letting his mind stay clear and focused without drifting. It's hard, but he has the practice by the time he's grown and moved out and moved across the country.
Sometimes he slips up, though.
Sometimes Vincent fuckin' Gerrard says something he shouldn't and Sal can't stop thinking about it while he makes coffee, and then he's trying to keep the man from grabbing a cup.
"What, you don't want me to find out you make a weak brew for sissies?" Gerrard snarks, flapping his wrist to the side in a gesture that makes Sal regret not putting more into the coffee. It's a stupid fucking joke, would be even if Sal had his shit view of the world, but Sal wants to snap his fucking wrist so he can't do that anymore. It pisses him off, it makes Tommy shrink in on himself.
"Nah," he says coolly. "Didn't want you to burn yourself, Cap. It's fresh."
Gerrard grunts and walks away, sipping from the mug. He drinks it black and plain as a mark of manhood rather than preference, and Sal can tell because he does this little grimace whenever he takes a drink.
"Do not drink that," he snaps when Chimney's fingers close around the carafe handle.
"Did you spit in it?" Chimney jokes, and Sal grabs it, pouring it down the drain. "Oh shit. Well, good for you, man."
When Gerrard ends up with a massive blister on the back of his hand by the end of the shift, Chimney says it looks like an extreme case of poison oak and he must've caught it when they were on the side of the highway for that car crash.
"You should get that checked out, sir," he says, tossing his gloves in the trash. "That's a problem for a doctor. Don't go poking around it."
Except it itches like hell, and he does. When it opens, his shout can be heard from across the station.
"Dumbass should've listened," Sal says, not looking up from the article he's reading.
"Maybe he'll miss a shift," Tommy says from where he's doing bicep curls.
"We should be so lucky," Sal says dryly, flicking to the next page. He hadn't made it that strong.
--
When Sal invites Tommy over one night, Tommy agrees but with the condition that Sal make this eggplant parm Sal's raved about. He'd planned on ordering in, but he can cook. He just has to be real careful.
The problem is that Tommy's early, so Sal has to finish up with Tommy leaning on the counter and smiling at him and talking work and sports and old video games. He almost burns it on purpose, but he takes a risk and serves up a plate.
"God, I don't think I've ever had that much food and felt better after," Tommy says, stretching from his chair at Sal's table.
Sal keeps an eye on him until he leaves, but the problem is that the spell sort of has a slow release sometimes. Sometimes it's not a spell, just a feeling. Or he really just made Tommy feel better. For all he knows, he just cured a muscle strain or something.
Except the next day, Tommy comes into work all jittery and admits that he proposed to Abby. Sal's shocked, Chimney's shocked, Hen's shocked, they're all shocked. The relationship with Abby's been dangling by a thread for weeks, if not months.
"I don't know what came over me, I just had this feeling like I'd found the person I was meant to be with forever," he says, shrugging.
"Do you still feel like that?" Hen asks carefully, and Tommy's expression shutters.
The alarm goes off, and they're heading out. The whole time, Sal's heart is pounding. It's got nothing to do with the grease fire.
--
He's on a line in the woods with Tommy, even though they're not at the same house anymore. They got sent up the mountain a couple hours apart, because there's a brushfire. Tommy's been in the air all morning, now he's shoulder to shoulder with Sal on the ground. Sal always feels better with Tommy there, but there's no way he's not fucking exhausted.
But Tommy soldiers on, just like with anything else. He cuts lines and listens for drops and even coordinates some from the ground, advising pilots on conditions from where he's at. He's looking up at the sky, and Sal's looking at him. The wind shift catches them both off guard, and there's suddenly a wall of flame to their right, their only clear path back.
"Get out!" Sal shouts, even though he knows they're fucked. They're in a circle of flames. He looks at Tommy, sees his blue eyes through the shield, and he can't watch him burn, not his Tommy.
So Sal tears a glove off and his respirator. He can't block out the elements if he needs to use them.
He's not a spellwork guy, that's his sister's thing, but he can try. For Tommy, he'll try anything. Sal kneels in the charred earth and digs for the living soil underneath, burying his fingers in it. He calls earth, air, water, and fire, begs for their favor, begs that they bend to his will long enough to get them safe passage.
The thrum of power lights through his veins, and he feels every connection of the great cycle of life and death at work around him. It hurts, it burns like the fire's inside his body instead of surrounding him, and then he pushes through it until there's a break in the wall.
Sal stumbles through, dragging a stunned Tommy behind him, and he barely gets to the other side before he collapses.
--
Sal comes to in a medical tent. Tommy's sitting on a folding stool next to his cot, his fingers laced together in front of his mouth as if he might be praying.
"Hey," Sal croaks.
"Hey," Tommy says, blinking back tears. "Fuck, Sal."
"Yeah," Sal agrees, struggling to sit up.
"Smoke inhalation," Tommy warns, pushing him down.
Sal lets out a harsh laugh and shakes his head, but he goes back down. "Nah. It ain't that."
Tommy wipes his nose with the sleeve of his turnouts. "What'd you do?"
"I'll tell you later," Sal says, glancing at the tent's other occupants.
In their own tent, Sal sits with a paper cup of weak tea and tells Tommy about Ma's family, about himself and what he can do.
And Tommy, perceptive and brilliant Tommy, asks him about the eggplant parm the year before.
"Yeah, well, my mind wandered," Sal admits with a wry smile, sipping his tea. "There's a reason I normally kick people out of the kitchen."
Tommy nods and presses his lips together. For a long moment, Sal's worried he might leave or hit him. Instead, he reaches across the scant space between their cots, curls a hand around Sal's neck, and kisses him.
--
Years later, Tommy flies off into a fucking hurricane. He's got a charm in his pocket from Ma, but Sal still paces until Tommy calls him from a phone on the rescue ship.
"You can't act like you're fucking invincible, baby," he says. "You should've called or something, I could've gotten there."
"We barely got here in time as it was. And I'm fine. I'll be fine, I promise. No more flying into hurricanes after this," Tommy says, and Sal can hear the smile in his voice. "You should meet the new 118, it's a trip. I think you'd like them."
Days later, he does meet them. He and Tommy are playing basketball with Tommy's new buddy when Chimney shows up with this long-legged, eager puppy of a guy in tow. He's all big smiles and flushed cheeks when he greets Tommy, and it's a bit adorable. Sal, though, isn't as big an idiot as his wonderful partner.
When he introduces himself, though, he wonders if the kid's just like that, because he reacts the same when he shakes Sal's hand.
Eddie, though, ends up on the ground with his ankle in his hands. Sal and Chimney check him out, and Sal says it's probably a light sprain.
"Light?!" Eddie says incredulously.
"Yes, princess, light," Sal snarks. "Go to urgent care, you'll be alright."
"I'll take him," Tommy offers.
"I'll catch a ride with Chimney," Sal says.
"You will?" Chimney asks.
"Or whatever. Don't worry about it, babe." He gives Tommy a quick, automatic kiss and sends him on his way.
Evan looks like he's about to be sick over the whole thing. Sal claps him on the back and invites him to come grab a cup of coffee or a smoothie or whatever.
"I should probably go home," Evan says, chewing on his lip and looking in the direction Tommy and Eddie went in.
--
Sal and Tommy show up at the loft together, though Sal offers to wait outside.
"Why?" Tommy asks, puzzled.
"Baby, I love you so much, but you're dense as fuck sometimes." He grabs the covered dish and follows Tommy upstairs.
It's about when Evan's looking between them nervously as he explains what his sister had said about Sal doesn't even know what, because Tommy and Sal are exchanging a look. Sal nods, and Tommy leans in and kisses Evan.
When Evan looks at Sal with something approaching panic and hope, Sal curls a hand around his jaw and kisses him, too.
"Eat the cookies," he says before they leave. "You'll feel better."
He'd baked them with lightness, grace, forgiveness, comfort, and acceptance in mind. And a little something extra, because Tommy had snuck a kiss to his neck while Sal was mixing in the chocolate chunks. There's only a few from that batch, the rest are normal, but he put those ones at the top.
--
At Micelli's, Evan admits he'd been nervous that morning.
"I gotta know what your secret is to those cookies, though, I ate one and it just helps," he says, grinning and shaking his head. "I don't know, I feel like I was just doing all this worrying for nothing. Going on a first date is pretty scary in general, but I also have a bad track record with them. Going on a date with two guys is just...going on a date with two guys."
"That's all Sal," Tommy says, nodding toward him. "He's a wizard in the kitchen."
Sal makes a face, because a Tommy knows how he feels about that term. "Not a wizard. But thank you. It's all old family recipe."
When Eddie accidentally crashes their date, Sal can feel Tommy bracing himself next to him.
"You guys are hanging out, that's great!" Eddie says.
Before Sal can stop him, Evan says, "Yeah, we're actually on a date."
Eddie and his date's eyebrows shoot up, and Sal pinches his nose.
Acceptance. Goddammit. This one's going to hit Evan like a ton of bricks when the intention fades.
"Oh, uh, good for you, man!" Eddie says, grinning. "Sorry, we'll get out of your way, then. Have fun!"
Tommy signs for the check, and Evan looks at his beer.
"You okay?" Sal asks softly.
"Yeah," Evan says, smiling. "I think he actually meant it? That went a lot better than I thought it would."
Outside, they wait for an Uber. Evan blinks at them and then back over his shoulder at the restaurant. He looks a little bewildered.
"I just told Eddie I was on a date with two guys," he says slowly.
"You did," Sal confirms.
"And he was kind of okay with it."
"Seemed to be," Tommy agrees.
Evan smiles and his cheeks get flushed. "Okay. I--yeah, okay. I didn't think I'd be able to do that yet."
"Do you think you're ready to do that yet? You can go back and talk to him," Sal offers.
"No! No, I don't need to. I, uh, I don't know." His smile widens, his hands going into his pockets. "I don't mind if he knows. Or anyone else. Why hide it, right? If this works, they'll have to find out sooner or later."
"That's a big step." Tommy rubs between Evan's shoulder blades and smiles at him. "For you, I mean. No rush, okay?"
"O-okay," he says, swallowing and leaning against Tommy's hand a little.
The Uber pulls up, and they pile into the back of the minivan.
--
Tommy calls Sal. "Evan's cursed."
Sal drops the shirt he'd been folding. "On my way."
He gets to the loft, and Evan's covered in boils and looking miserable.
"Oh, baby," Sal says with a sympathetic wince.
"He's having a reaction," Eddie says, tossing his gloves in the trash. "And he needs a doctor."
Sal presses his thumb to his boyfriend's chin and feels something working under his skin. "Yeah, don't worry. I got a guy."
"Then I leave him in your capable hands," Eddie says, clapping him on the shoulder.
When Eddie's left, Sal presses a hand to Buck's clearer cheek and closes his eyes.
"Maybe you shouldn't--"
Sal gently shushes Evan and keeps feeling for the thing burrowing into his skin that's doing this. He feels it wrapped around his shoulder, probably the one he'd dislocated.
"Alright, I need a shitload of chamomile flowers," he decides. "And some lavender, sage, marjoram, maybe even some fucking garlic. Christ alive, kid, what happened? Whatever's cursed you is old and pissed."
Evan blinks at him with wide eyes, and he looks between Sal and Tommy. "Wait, you believe me?"
Tommy throws up his hands and sighs. "I said I did!"
Sal kisses the clearest spot on Evan's forehead. "I'm gonna send Tommy out for some things, and we'll talk."
An hour later, Tommy's back from a plant nursery and the grocery store, and Evan's laying on the couch trying to process while Sal makes tea.
"Yep," Tommy says, crouching next to Evan. "I wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't bent the elements around us to save us from a fire."
"He mentioned that," Evan says faintly. "So you can fix this?"
"I can make it leave you, but it'll find someone else eventually. Whatever's got a hold of you is having a hell of a time settling their business." Sal starts pulling springs of herbs and flowers and peeling garlic. "But that's something we worry about after."
He sits in the middle of Evan's living room with Evan across from him inside a circle of patchouli leaves.
"Smells nice," Evan comments, and Sal smiles as he mashes everything else together in a bowl, pouring in all the healing and protection he can.
He puts a fistful of the muddled herbs in a mug and lets them steep in the hot water and honey. The garlic gets mashed as well with the remnants in the bowl, and Sal touches the sticky paste to Evan's shoulder.
Evan inhales sharply, and Sal clamps his hand to him, holding the paste in place and pulling out the dark things trying to work their way through Evan. When he drops the clump of paste into the bowl and hands Evan the tea, Evan drinks it slowly.
"That doesn't taste good," Evan says with a wince as he sets it down again.
"I know," Sal says fondly, reaching across with his clean hand to touch his cheek with a smile. "But they're going down."
Thirty minutes later, Evan is free of boils and his shoulder barely aches.
"You're really a witch," he says, awed.
"Yep," Sal says, curling up on the couch with a groan.
"A-are you--"
"Healing's hard work, pushing out a curse is harder," he explains, reaching out to tangle their fingers together. "But it's worth it. I just need a nap. Few days with my feet in the dirt will do me some good, too."
"There's a reason our garden is so nice," Tommy adds.
Evan bites his lip and squeezes Sal's fingers. "You didn't have to, though."
"Why not? I'd do it for Tommy."
"Yeah, but you--" He cuts himself off and looks between them. "You love Tommy."
"Yeah, and I love you. Both of you." Sal tugs Evan onto the cushion next to him, and Tommy sits on Evan's other side. "But don't say it back just because you think you have to, okay?"
Evan nods, and Tommy kisses his recently healed shoulder, burying his face in Evan's neck.
"You smell like garlic," Tommy mumbles, and Evan laughs.
--
They're at Micelli's. Tommy's handed over the basketball tickets, Sal's given Evan a charm like the one Tommy has.
"No more curses for you, okay?" he teases.
Evan curls his fingers around it, and he rubs his thumbs over the carefully twined stems and beads. It's a bit like a small wreath.
"Thank you," he says softly.
"You cannot use magic to beat my gifts, that's totally cheating," Tommy complains.
"It didn't beat anything, thank you! I also got him something else that's in the mail."
Evan smiles at them and bumps their feet with his. "I love them."
--
When they go to pick him up for the movie, Evan's nervous. And Sal would be worried if he wasn't sneaking smiles at them.
"I, uh, talked to Josh and Maddie today," Evan admits. "Because I was just thinking about some stuff, and I didn't want to just throw all of it at you two and make you figure it out. Not that I don't know, but it was a little more theoretical before. You know?"
"Sure," Tommy says, like he's got any clue at all.
"I, uh, love you," he says, licking his lips and looking between them. "Both of you."
Sal kisses his cheek and then the corner of his smiling mouth, squeezing him close. "You already know I love you, sweetheart."
"And I have a much harder time with stuff like this," Tommy adds, lacing his fingers with Evan's. "But so do I."
Evan exhales shakily and grins. "Can we, uh, skip the movie?"
"Thought you'd never ask," Sal teases, crushing their lips together. When he lets him go, Evan turns to Tommy and draws him into a kiss, too, as Tommy backs up toward the stairs to the bedroom.
--
"It's about intention," Sal explains, stirring. "And having enough salt. Really important."
"Okay," Evan says, nestled up against Sal's back. "So if you're thinking good thoughts, then when this gets eaten, I'll have good thoughts?"
"Or you might feel better or something good might happen. That's why potions are easier, the ingredients help dictate the end result." He holds the spoon up for Evan so he can taste. "That's why I usually don't let you two bug me in here."
Tommy puts the pasta in the boiling water before slipping an arm around each of them. "Or why I usually cook instead."
Wrapped up in his boys, Sal lets himself drift on the love and contentment as he finishes up the sauce. When Evan nuzzles his neck and makes heat coil in his gut, Sal lets out a soft snort as he turns the heat on low and puts the lid on the sauce.
"That's gonna be a special batch for us that we only eat at home," he decides. "Unless you two wanna act like lovesick idiots at work."
"Already do," Evan teases, nipping at his neck. "Is it gonna be like the Viagra birthday cake?"
The birthday cake for Tommy had been baked by Sal and filled with enough love and arousal that he'd had to order one from a bakery that their friends could eat. In his defense, Evan and Tommy had walked through the kitchen after working out wearing sweaty clothes and pushing at each other, grabbing and groping on their way from the garage to the shower. The resulting cake could've made a pharmaceutical company a mint, because a sliver of it turned all three of them into horny, panting beasts who couldn't stop declaring their love for each other while they fucked like animals.
"Less horny," Sal decides. "But maybe we push breakfast back to brunch with your sister."
"On it!" He jogs off to grab his phone.
Tommy pulls him into a kiss and then another, and they make out until the opening strains of "I Put a Spell on You" plays from the next room.
"Not funny!" Sal calls.
"A little funny," Tommy adds.
"He learned it from you, brat." He pecks his boyfriend on the nose and pushes him away to check the pasta.