Trill, Dr.T. I write and do art about the things I enjoy. Occasional salt and sarcasm, mostly I just try to enjoy things. I favor a philosophy of do no harm but take no shit.
Here's a snippet from Words Yet Left to Say (another snippet here) which is about Buck and Tommy reconnecting via letters after Buck has a chance encounter with Tommy's father.
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"Fuck me, they're not even trying anymore," Chimney mutters as he looks out the window of the front seat of the engine at the traffic they're trying to navigate.
Buck can't see much of what's up ahead from where he's sitting in the back of the cab. Instead he's getting treated to the view of a group of young women pulled over to the side as best they can in not much space in the heavy traffic, now leaning out their windows to wave with enthusiastic and flirtatious energy at him and Ravi.
Buck leans inwards over the probie stuck jump seat to try and see between the front seats to what Jen their engineer is laying on the horn over, but there's not much he can see, so he sits back with a huff.
"Oop," Ravi burbles abruptly, blinking hard as he snaps his gaze away from the window, and Buck snorts.
"She flash you?" Buck asks, laughing.
"Mhm," Ravi says, face scrunching up over an incredulous and slightly mortified smile.
"Come on!" Chim yells up ahead, head leaning out the window, waving an arm around. "Move your ass over!"
The probie next to Buck leans forward to look out the side with brows up, and Buck plants a hand over his face and pushes him back down.
"Ah-ah-ah," he says, tsking his teeth in chiding. "Behave."
And then he looks out the window for himself.
"Hey! Why do you get to look?" the other probie - he really should learn their names at some point, but he's in a mood about it still.
Chim made his big speech clipping Buck's wings on the transfer and demanding things stay the way they are at the core, and then promptly two thirds of the crew got reshuffled. It's not Chim's fault, exactly. There are all sorts of reasons in play, but… it does rankle a little, so he's maybe entitled to being a tiny bit petty.
Buck winks at the girl who flashes him - the tits are very nice - and then waves goodbye at the group of them as Chim groans, "Thank you, fuck," and the rig jostles a little as Jen impatiently gets them back into gear and moving along now that whoever has been failing to yield has finally gotten their shit together.
He turns his head back to Thing Two and puts on his primmest face. "Because I know better than to get any dumb ideas about it, and how to be polite and appreciate their efforts without making it weird."
"The fuck does that even mean?" Thing Two mutters, squinting around the mismatched group of them.
Foster - the guy they've currently got on loan from the 112 because of some complicated certification minimums and team re-balancing whatever blah blah plan that central command has been pushing - leans forward and takes it upon himself to say, "Buckley's gay."
He says it like he's imparting some significant wisdom to the two young men beside and across from him, letting them in on some important secret firefighter knowledge. It's so weird on so many levels Buck doesn't know where to begin.
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Send me a word and I'll post a snippet of a WIP with that word, or write you 3 new sentences if it's not in there :3
Hi Trill! For the WIP word guessing game: heat or hot
(the temps are steadily rising here and I hate it, so I've gotta wring some kind of enjoyment from the word)
Noooo RC the melting, it's the worst. I am already so over it too and it's only just begun. At least it's now the season for fresh ingredients for some pimms cups though🍹
Here's a snippet from One Man Operation that definitely meets the brief of trying to make something fun out of summer heat!
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"Now you're getting sunburnt," Evan says, a bratty little twist to his mouth as he puts the glass of water in his hand. "Didn't your mother ever tell you to put on sunscreen?"
"No," Tommy says and drains half the glass in one go. He considers the cold kindness of it in the overwhelming heat and adds, "She would have had to care that I was alive to do something like that, but she didn't give two shits about me."
Evan bursts into delighted laughter. "Fuck. Same here."
His eyes are tracing over Tommy's face like he's fascinating, like he's something worth looking at. Or. Maybe just like he's the whore he'd hired. That could be it too. That's probably pretty interesting on its own.
Tommy drinks a little more water and then tips the rest of it over his head, lets himself pretend for a moment that maybe he's some kind of sex god who'll manage a Cindy Crawford level of sensual water drippage and a mysterious smile that suggests he know what the fuck he's doing.
He rakes his fingers through his wet hair to chase the cool down the back of his neck where the heat is the driest and opens his eyes again and -
And call him Cindy, maybe, because Evan's staring at him with his lips parted and his eyes darkened. Evan swallows hard, his eyes tracing the path of a drop of water down his neck like he wants to lick it.
"Besides. A certain someone still has my sunscreen."
His brows furrow in confusion, and then he blanches in horror and goes, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"
Tommy shrugs it off. "I forgot to grab it."
"I - I'll get it," Evan blurts, spinning on his heel - stumbling badly a moment as his prosthetic catches in the grass, but quickly hopping up into the security of his other leg and setting a stiff pace to go in search of the lotion, like it's urgent.
Tommy sighs and sets about unhooking himself from the trimmer so he can save Evan the return trip, but he apparently didn't have far to go, because he's already letting himself back out the back door by the time Tommy's gotten the tools put down. He hasn't even gotten his gloves off.
"Here, let me get your back," Evan says, dumping a big palmful of lotion out as he strides over.
"Sure," Tommy says, turning the named body part to him in offering. Even just as a friendly favor it's nice enough he'll gladly accept.
It flips in an instant, though - the time it takes for Evan's palm to cross the breadth of his shoulders in one long stroke. He feels it in his own body but also in the tremble of Evan's fingertips, the hesitation before he slides his hand back the other direction… slowly.
---
Send me a word and I'll post a snippet of a WIP with that word, or write you 3 new sentences if it's not in there :3
Turns out I use the word "thrill" almost exclusively in the porniest scenes lmao but I finally found one that wasn't just outright smut.
Here's a bit from the sequel to Coloring Outside the Lines. This section follows on pretty immediately after this snippet too
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"It's… new," Tommy says. New enough that he's not even sure it's reasonable to consider there to be any expectation of exclusivity or a relationship in any traditional sense. Tommy's well aware that in all likelihood Evan's in it for the thrill of dating an older man, that he's enjoying the moment but as soon as the novelty wears off he'll be moving on from this particular adventure.
But there's a chance, however slight, that this isn't going to be a flash in the pan but maybe a true romantic fling, something that will last long enough to earn a worthy footnote in Evan's life story - and it turns out he's not willing to risk losing that before he's had a chance to find out.
"Okay you have got to give us more than that," Lopez groans.
"I don't," he replies evenly.
Donato though cocks a sculpted eyebrow at him and says, "Nah I'm with Ramon. Give us the deets. You haven't mentioned dating anyone the whole time you've been here."
"We were starting to think you'd decided to only fly solo," Watford says with a crude gesture that has Myers cackling.
Well. He had, actually, more or less, though he doesn't feel the need to mention that.
"Which would be okay - asexuality is a thing," Lopez hurries to say benevolently, and Donato snorts rudely and mutters, "Trust me, that's not applicable here."
He glares at her because some things need to stay where they left them at the worst gay club in west hollywood with too much tequila and the manic need to prove they were alive after a really fucking dumb near miss with death courtesy of their erstwhile Captain at the 147 fifteen years ago.
Donato just shrugs at him, unrepentant and expectant.
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Send me a word and I'll post a snippet of a WIP with that word, or write you 3 new sentences if it's not in there :3
Hah, you've found a word that actually only has one chapter it shows up in! Apparently nobody clarifies shit in my writing 99% of the time 🤣
This is also from The Calling, my weird Merfolk Tommy and Buck the body/sex creaturefolk service worker fic
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Buck pouts out his lip and says, "Really? I can't believe I didn't even see you get off - guess I was too busy getting my world rocked to notice, so I can't complain, but -"
Tommy's face does something complicated and like Buck is definitely getting something else wrong now but he's not going to protest, which really is not how this whole client - employee thing is supposed to work.
"What? What am I getting wrong?" Buck presses. "Tell me so I can be better for you."
"Nothing's wrong, everything you're doing is perfect."
"Tommy."
"I mean it, that was great. I did get what I wanted, I'm perfectly satisfied by getting to give you an orgasm."
"But?"
Tommy tips his head back, most of his face dipping just under the surface of the water as he exhales, leaving a little trail of bubbles as they drift along.
"This isn't a complaint," he says finally. "But in the interest of not misleading you, I should maybe just clarify that I didn't have an orgasm. That's all. But that's not important."
Buck instinctually shifts to put his feet down, to get to something he can stand on to devote more of his brain to the situation - though they've floated out into the deeper waters so only his toes reach the sediment.
"Wait. What do you mean, though? You didn't get off and you don't… want to get off? Or you don't think I can get you off?" Buck jerks his hand back from Tommy's body. "Do you not want me to touch you?"
Tommy tilts his head heavily in denial, grip tightening on his waist and refusing his attempt to back off. "No, not at all. I would love to have you touch me, in whatever way you want, whenever you feel like it - especially if we're in the water. But us having sex won't work for me the way that it does for you. Outside of clutching in particular we don't… we're not built for it like that, not really."
"So wait - you can't get off unless you're mating?" Buck asks, horrified. "You - fuck, you only get to come twice a year?"
Tommy's face creases, somewhere between amusement and disagreement. "Not the way you mean it, but I wouldn't say that's exactly true, either."
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Send me a word and I'll post a snippet of a WIP with that word, or write you 3 new sentences if it's not in there :3
This is also from Merry Go Round in which Buck makes queer friends, starts going on dates again, but somehow all roads lead back to Tommy
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"Well, I'd better..." Tommy tilts his head in the direction of wherever he had been going. The way the other people dressed all business casual like him had gone.
"Right," Buck says.
"Right," Tommy says, smiling at them. "Well, good to see you as always."
"Yeah. You too."
There's an awkward beat, and then they slip by each other, a little dance of distant politeness. Buck tucks his hands in his pockets and walks on briskly, Josh following him to the end of the hall that's apparently full of rooms with meteorology lectures. Thankfully the door is where he remembered, an exit only fire door that leads right to a sidewalk between the parking lot and the path around the building to the street.
Buck gestures towards the street - the restaurant is walking distance - but the moment the door clacks shut behind them, Josh breaks the stretching silence.
"Sure you still want to go to a romantic dinner with some guy who's just your sister's coworker?" he says, his voice as arch as his eyebrow as he follows the gesture anyway and starts walking.
"Fuck," Buck blurts, swiping a hand over his face. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean-"
"Like I get the context so I'm not actually mad, but let me just say… wow," Josh says, shaking his head. "Way to make a girl feel special."
"I'm so sorry. I just-" He's opened his mouth to try and explain further, but even he can see that he'd only be digging the hole deeper no matter what he says.
He closes his mouth and scrunches up his nose for the rest of the block, and Josh lets him, just patting his shoulder with something like pity.
"This is a terrible date, isn't it?" he says finally when they get to a crosswalk and stop at the light. It's a busy street for cars but there aren't many pedestrians around, so the conversation is private enough he doesn't mind cracking open that can of worms.
"Oh, god, honey, I have had much, much worse," Josh says with a laugh.
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Send me a word and I'll post a snippet of a WIP with that word, or write you 3 new sentences if it's not in there :3
Kathyy the sheer fucking number of mentions of the word "egg" that I had to sift through in order to pick a section out 🤣
This is from The Calling, my weird Merfolk Tommy and Buck the body/sex creaturefolk service worker fic
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"So, hey, if this is a question you have the answer to, how long are we going to be, uh, knotted?"
Tommy inhales a little deeply like maybe he'd been dozing, and he hums and shifts, testing the knot himself a little and then settling again against him.
"A good while yet, and unfortunately not something I have any control over. There's a whole biochemical feedback process that happens on its own timeline - not exactly something you can set an egg timer for," Tommy says, huffing a faint little laugh. "Take a nap if you'd like. We'll be here another hour, maybe two, most likely."
"Hours? Jeez. That seems… I mean, I don't fucking know anything so ignore me, but that seems unnecessary."
"Mm," Tommy says, sounding distinctly amused. "The received wisdom is that it's good for bonding emotionally with your mate - which I think sounds pretty idiotic given certain significant elements of our history, but in modern times it's a nice enough idea. Practically speaking, the issue is that if I could pull out sooner, things might not stay where they're meant to. The oviposition itself is relatively quick but it takes a while for the eggs to really settle down to where they're going to implant."
"Eggs?" he half mumbles incredulously - desperately swallows the word back before it gives him away, but it's probably too late given the way he's already tensed up. He's still wrapped around Tommy's… whatever. Whatever the organ is. Is it still called a dick if it puts eggs inside people? Whatever it's called, there's no way he doesn't feel Buck's asshole attempting to pucker in panic.
Because Tommy had definitely said eggs - and implant and fertilize and -
"Evan?" Tommy shifts a little behind him, brushing his lips against his shoulder and leaning up to see his face as he says a soft, "Are you okay?"
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Send me a word and I'll post a snippet of a WIP with that word, or write you 3 new sentences if it's not in there :3
Here's a bit from the sequel to Coloring Outside the Lines
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This one is something of a generic amber-gold shade that doesn't give him too many clues about what it might be just from the visual.
"Whoa," Evan says, blinking at the glass and then taking another sip.
"You like it?"
"I think so?" Evan says, sounding heavily doubtful about that statement, but intrigued nonetheless.
When Evan puts the glass down between them, Tommy pulls it over to take a sip and immediately understands.
"Oh. Interesting."
"What?"
He eyes Evan a moment then nods slowly and says, "Makes sense though."
"What?" Evan says again, looking back at him with flushed cheeks and bright eyes that are a little shy but eager for his assessment. His attention.
"Sours aren't for everyone, that's for sure. They're unconventional. Bold. Complex," he says, trailing his eyes over Evan's features.
He likes the way it looks on him, and he sets a light knuckle under his chin - all he needs to draw him over for a kiss, he goes so easily with it. He keeps it tasteful enough for the bar, but chases the flavor of the beer around Evan's mouth with a little sweep of tongue before he pulls back and adds, "Suits you."
"Yeah?"
He looks through his eyelashes at Tommy, then drinks some more of the beer in question and hums. Says, "I think it's growing on me."
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Send me a word and I'll post a snippet of a WIP with that word, or write you 3 new sentences if it's not in there :3
This is from Merry Go Round in which Buck makes queer friends, starts going on blind dates again, but somehow all roads lead back to Tommy
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"Hey, you were the one who said you wanted to get back on the horse. Prove to yourself and everyone else that you're not just gay for your ex because he was the first guy to rock your socks off-"
He scrunches his face.
"- even though you definitely don't owe anyone that shit."
He scrunches harder.
"But like, I totally get it at the same time. So, great. Go kiss some boys and suck some dicks. Get some unassailable proof that you are one hundred percent queer and nobody can ever make you doubt yourself about it again."
He huffs a sigh that ends up sounding way more longing and pathetic than he'd intended. She's not at all wrong, is the thing. He hates the feeling of not being able to point to anything concrete, of being treated like Tommy's some kind of exception that proves the rule, rather than just the guy who was so incredible he broke through an entire society's worth of pressure to be "normal" just by existing in Buck's life.
"Look. Just go on one date, meet this very cool guy, try a rebound for a second to get a little distance. Gotta start somewhere or you'll never shake off the rust… it'll be fun. You can't tell me you don't need some fun in your life right now."
He hesitates, and Lucy grins, already knowing she's got him.
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Send me a word and I'll post a snippet of a WIP with that word, or write you 3 new sentences if it's not in there :3
Oh, for the 5 facts prompts, Buck and Tommy meet through Ravi at frisbee golf!
I want you to know I had to look up what frisbee golf was and then I went and made up a bunch of things about it anyway. Also it got away from me and went in a more, hm, poetical direction.
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1. Covid had shrunk his life down to the essentials: work, grocery store, socially distance runs, home, video calls. Even with the vaccine roll out, Buck was being cautious.; the last thing he wanted to do was catch Covid and put Maddie and his soon to be born niece at risk. He was lonely and restless—Albert was great company when he was there, but he was grabbing as many deliveries as possible as he needed the money—which was why he didn’t laugh when Ravi said, “I have a weekly frisbee golf game with friends. You doing anything on Sunday?”
“Uh, not to sound ungrateful,” Buck said, resisting the urge to look behind him to see who Ravi was actually talking to, “but why are you inviting me? You pretend not to know us outside of work.”
With the mask covering his face, Ravi’s eyebrows were putting in overtime in the judgmental department. “It’s called having a work-life balance and actual boundaries. You should try it.”
“You’re still a probie,” Buck reminded him.
Ravi had a trick of conveying an eye roll without actually rolling his eyes. It was as impressive as it was deeply irritating. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“But why me?” Buck asked, refusing to take that bait. “I didn’t think you liked me.”
“I’m going to be honest,” Ravi said like he wasn’t that all of the time. “It seems like the pandemic has maybe sent you spiraling into madness.” He held up a hand when Buck went to protest. “You chased me with a saw last week.”
“Uh, I was trying to find you so I could demonstrate how to properly use and store the saw.”
“And the best way to do that was by pretending to be Michael Myers?” Ravi pulled out his phone. “I’m sending you the time and place. “Be there.”
His phone vibrated. “I appreciate this, but I don’t want to be your weird coworker who got a pity invite.” And, Buck added silently, he didn’t want to be the weird older guy pretending to be the same age as a bunch of twenty-somethings.
“You are my weird coworker,” Ravi said without a shred of pity, “but I’m inviting another weird coworker so you’ll have someone to be weird with.”
“Thanks?” Buck said. “Wait, what other coworker? Is it Eddie? Did you invite Eddie? Ravi!”
2. Ravi did not invite Eddie. Buck showed up to the park, compressor sleeve on his bad leg, and saw a tiny woman struggling to pull a giant cooler out of the back of her Subaru. Buck ran to help at the same time as another man hurried over, and they both managed to catch the cooler before it slipped and crushed the poor woman. The guy was masked, but his eyes were so blue and, judging by the way the corners creased, he must have had a hell of a smile.
“Nice catch,” the guy said as they navigated the cooler to safety. His voice was higher pitched than Buck was expecting for a guy that size, but it was, and there was no other word for it, melodious.
“You must be the Ravi’s weird coworkers,” she said. “Grab that and follow me.”
The guy’s eyebrows raised, but he obligingly picked up one end of the cooler and Buck took the other, and they followed the woman, who was named Skye and the co-founder of her college’s frisbee gold club. That was how she knew Ravi; they were old friends.
“Ravi, I found your weird work friends,” she called as they joined Ravi and the rest of the group at the course they were setting up.
“Most people are impressed by us being firefighters,” the guy said mildly.
Skye snorted. “Tell you what, kid, save a cat from a tree and I will personally throw you a parade.”
“It’s been a long time since I was called kid,” the guy mused, and Buck was treated to those laugh lines again. They were so deep; this guy must smile a lot. “I’m Tommy.”
“Buck. Buckley. I mean, Evan,” Buck said because apparently he lost control of his mouth. God, he wished he could see that smile. “Evan Buckley.”
“Good to meet you, Evan,” Tommy said.
“Glad you made it,” Ravi said. “We’re about to break into teams. Full warning, Skye gets physical.”
“Yeah, I do,” said Skye, and high fived another woman.
“I didn’t think this was a contact sport,” Buck said, who had spent last night reading the frisbee golf Wikipedia article and watching a couple of video of people trying to toss little discs into various baskets.
“Not the way we play it,” said Skye with a wolfish smile. “Are you ready?”
3. Buck was not, in fact, ready. The third time Skye laid him out, Buck just stayed and contemplated his mortality.
“Still alive down there?” Tommy asked, hands braced on his knees as he leaned over Buck.
“Unfortunately,” Buck said. “Do you think if I play dead they’ll forget I’m here?”
Tommy glanced at where a scrimmage was taking place further down the course. “I think it’s wrapping up. I heard a rumor that cooler we carried was full of snacks. Come on.”
Tommy offered a hand, and Buck was effortlessly pulled to his feet. “Oh,” he said, breathless. “I’m, uh, not used to people being able to lift me.”
“Benefits of being a big, strong firefighter,” Tommy said with those gorgeous laugh lines.
“Yeah, strong,” Buck agreed over the mad scramble happening at the last basket. It was either luck or skill that kept anyone from losing a mask. “This is not regulation play.”
“Yeah, it’s very Calvinball.” Tommy slid him a sly look. “I bet we can raid the cooler while they’re distracted.”
Buck was too old to get caught in the violent tangle of limbs that was happening. “Let’s do it.”
4. An incomplete list of things Buck learned about Tommy as they waited for the frisbee golf game to end:
Tommy was not just a firefighter but a firefighter pilot, which was one of the coolest jobs it was possible to have. (“That’s gotta be like having a super power,” he said way too earnest to be cool, but Tommy just smiled so wide that his nose scrunched and said, “A little bit, yeah.)
Tommy was Harbor’s sacrificial goat who got sent to the academy as a guest instructor (“I lost the final round of rock, paper, scissors,” he said in that dry tone that Buck suspected he used when he wanted to hide the truth as a joke.)
Tommy used to be at the 118 and had the best stories from Chim and Hen’s probie years (Tommy called him Howie, which was weirdly endearing)
Tommy learned to fly in the army (“The PTSD was almost worth it.”)
Tommy knew Muay Thai but had not joined an underground fight club because he was only slightly more well adjusted than Eddie
Tommy had the most beautiful smile Buck had ever seen
“So this is adorable,” Skye said, gesturing between them, “but if you don’t stop bogarting the snacks, I will take you both down.”
Tommy stepped aside and made a dorky little half-bow so Skye could get into the cooler. Apparently everyone contributed to the snack fund but Skye was the one who actually went out and bought everything because she had black market hook ups for the good chips and dip.
Once everyone had raided the cooler and they had all spaced out six feet so they could take off their masks to eat and drink, Ravi raised his can of flavored seltzer and said, “And now it’s time for the traditional poetry reading. Kay has chosen this week’s selection.
Kay, who had an undercut and a septum piercing, said, “You know I had to go with my girl Mary Oliver. You know it, you love it, it’s Wild Geese!”
Everyone cheered, and Buck found himself exchanging a bewildered look with Tommy and Tommy’s politely baffled eyebrows.
From their back pocket, Kay pulled out a phone and began to read. It was a short poem, but it filled him with a sweet ache, like the relief he felt when a wound had been sutured closed. Tommy’s face had softened with each line, and by the end he looked just like how Buck felt, like pain had given way to ease. And then it was over, and Buck wished he’d though to fix his mask back into place so he could have stood shoulder to shoulder with Tommy as they experienced the poem together.
“So,” Ravi said once they were once again masked up and reformed into a loose circle, “what did you think?”
“I wasn’t expecting to be tackled so much,” Tommy said dryly, smile once more hidden away, “but it was fun.”
“Yeah, fun,” Buck said. “Hey, what’s up with the poetry?”
What was up with the poetry was that Ravi’s college roommate was an extremely shy kid named Joshua who Ravi managed to, in the words of Skye, cajole into joining their frisbee golf club using sweet words and a muffin. Joshua hated frisbee golf, but he liked poetry and old books, and so would sit on the sidelines reading to them between plays. And soon everyone had their favorite poets and poems and started bringing them to share with Joshua until it became a tradition after every game for one member to read a new poem they found.
“He had to move back home when his dad got sick,” said Chad, who looked exactly like one of Buck’s roommates from back in the day who would howl without fail at three am every day but was in fact pursuing a masters in gender studies. “But we kept up the tradition, and we either facetime with him or send him the poem.”
“Oh, that’s really cool,” Buck said, who never had the kinds of friends who would do that. He didn’t even keep in touch with Connor, who he’d followed to LA like a lost puppy.
“It is,” said Beth, who was only slightly less violent than Skye, which was good since she was close to him and Tommy in height, “until Skye breaks up with her girlfriend of two years and does nothing but read Richard Siken poems for two straight months.”
Tommy winced, and Sky pointed an accusing finger at him and said, “I knew it! I knew you were one of us!”
Tommy’s eyebrows rose in a way that Buck could only describe as bitchy. “Kid, I was in the army under Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. You’re one of me.”
“Wait, what does Don’t Ask Don’t Tell have to do with poetry?” Buck said two seconds before his brain caught up. “Oh, you’re—”
“Gay,” Tommy said, and now those bitchy eyebrows were trained fully on him.
“That’s cool! I mean, I’m an ally.” From outside his body, Buck watched as his raised his fist in the air in encouragement and wanted to die. But instead of death, he opened his mouth and said, “I put up a rainbow on my Instagram profile every June.”
Into the terrible silence that followed, Skye said, “So do you have a reminder about a flag programmed into your phone?”
“No,” he said quickly.
“Oh, he definitely does,” Chad said. “That’s adorable. Ravi, thank you for inviting him. He’s going into my thesis.”
Tommy leaned in close and said, “I think that means he likes you,” which almost made the mortification worth it.
Thank god a bunch of moms chased them to clean up and clear out so that their kids could kick around a soccer ball. He and Tommy carried the cooler back to Skye’s Subaru.
“You need to contribute to the snack fund,” Sky said, holding out a hand. “I only accept cash.”
Who carried cash anymore? Tommy apparently, and he handed over two crisp twenties. “You can get it next time,” he said, and gently knocked his knuckles into Buck’s shoulder.
“I’m adding you to the group chat,” Ravi said, and Buck was officially part of frisbee golf.
6. By the third meet up, Buck had given up on understanding the ever shifting rules and instead spent most of his time on the fringes talking to Tommy. They had started getting take out after the game and eating on Tommy’s back patio and then, because they were both fully vaccinated and careful, moving inside to watch the movies Tommy insisted he had to see.
“Do you miss going out to the movies?” Buck asked one day, perusing the two bookcases dedicated to DVDs and CDs.
“I don’t miss strangers breathing on me in the dark for two hours,” Tommy said dryly, “but, yeah, I miss it.”
“We should go when it’s safe.” Buck brushed his knuckles along Tommy’s shoulder. “I’ll buy you Twizzlers.”
The first time Tommy came to the loft, Buck was mortifingly aware of how empty it was, especially compared to Tommy’s carefully curated house. He didn’t have a single shelf of movies or even books. The only personal touch was the bike hanging on the wall, and it had been years since he’d been cycling. Thank god Albert never cleaned up against himself; his mess was the only sign of life in the entire place.
“I get the appeal now,” Tommy said, gesturing to the two balconies. “That’s almost gotta be worth what you’re getting gouged on rent.”
“Spent a lot of nights out here when I can’t sleep,” he said, and they ate lunch out on the balcony and listened to the city.
But mostly they snuck away when Buck’s leg and Tommy’s knee started acting up after too many tackles. They were deep in a discussion of which weird 80s fantasy movie to see next—Tommy was adamant that Buck needed to experience Tim Curry as the shirtless devil, and Buck wanted to see Labrinyth since he had remembered seeing that with Maddie and loving all the pupped—when Skye said, “This is why we don’t let you be on the same team.” She had evidently clawed her way free from a pile up that, as first responders, he and Tommy should really break up. “At least we’re both equally down a player.”
Tommy pointed to Buck’s leg and then his own knee. “There’s no way our old man joints would survive that.”
“Aren’t you firefighters?” she asked.
“I’ve seen the elbows you throw in there,” Tommy said. “Our job is less dangerous.”
“Ha!” Skye said, and then immediately proved Tommy’s point by trying to take down Ravi.
Chad gestured between them. “Whatever is happening between you two is adorable, and I want an invite to the wedding.”
Where Buck had been expecting Tommy’s to do their bitchy thing, Tommy’s expression instead smoothed out so quickly and completely that it felt like a flinch, like Chad had inadvertently pressed on a tender bruise.
“I don’t think he was trying to be an asshole,” Buck said once Chad had been dragged back into the pile.
“It’s fine,” Tommy said in a tone that meant it was absolutely not fine. “I forget sometimes that’s an option for me. It wasn’t for a long time.”
Buck thought of Abby and Ali and the dating apps he hadn’t opened in months, and said, “Yeah, I get that.” He touched the back of Tommy’s hand. “Want to raid the cooler while they’re distracted?”
They had snacks and made an effort to talk to people who weren’t each other, and then it was time for the ceremonial poetry reading.
Tommy stepped forward and carefully pulled out a piece of paper that had gone soft along the creases, like Tommy had folded it and unfolded it many times. Tommy cleared his throat and, a little shy, said, “This is called the undone cowboy writes to his sweetheart.”
And Tommy began to read.
7. These were the poems Buck had heard since joining the group: an ee cummings poem he remembered reading in high school; Frank O’Hara writing about New York; Sky choosing a poem about Jesus in a gay bar that had made him and Tommy tear up; a poem about the women in Stop & Shop.
He had liked all of them, but none of them had been read in Tommy’s soft, careful voice, and none of them had felt like they were spreading his ribs apart to let in the sun. God, he thought as Tommy read the last line, god just take my heart in your palm.
“I knew you were one of us,” Skye said, and tapped friendly knuckles to his shoulder.
8. The shift had been quiet enough that Buck was able to sneak away and grab the good bunk in the corner with the mattress that didn’t sag and replayed the poem in his head: could you lasso my legs, darling, and press me tender to hay bale?
Buck had spent the better part of a year working on a ranch. Hay was a lot less romantic and a lot more irritating than people thought. It pricked and itched, even through a carefully laid blanket, and Buck had no desire to have it anywhere near his dick and balls again.
And yet he placed his palm against his sternum and thought of leaning against a bale. The hay would try to scratch through his clothes but he wouldn’t notice it, not with how close Tommy would be standing. They were the same height and near the same size, although Tommy had more breadth across the shoulders and carried more muscle. Tommy was immovable when he wanted to be, and Buck had felt the heat of him when they collided on the field.
He pressed down on his own breastbone. It wouldn’t be hard for Tommy to move him. It’d be so easy; Buck would go without a fight. God, he would have to spread his legs so wide to let Tommy get in close, and Tommy would kiss as sweetly as he read the poem.
“Oh,” Buck said, ribs cracked open and his sternum filled with sunlight, “I’m one of them.”
8. Buck was a firefighter and there was a time for evaluation and there was a time for action, and so he showed up to Tommy’s house and said, “Are you the undone cowboy? Can I be your sweetheart? I, uh, also brought lunch. Hi.”
“Hi,” Tommy said, and he was laughing but not at Buck. “You want to come in, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, I really do,” Buck said.
9. Tommy kissed sweeter than the poem.
Buck sliced him an apple.
10. “I’ve got a poem,” Buck said, fumbling his phone out of his pocket. It wasn’t his frisbee gold reading, but this one was important. He wanted to get it right. “It’s from our girl Mary Oliver.”
“Yo Mary Oliver!” Kay shouted.
"It's I Did Think, Let's Go About This Slowly." He cleared his throat and began to read, and on the line, the important one, he met Tommy’s eyes and said, unafraid and full of joy, “‘But, bless us, we didn't.”
Tommy’s smile was still the most beautiful think Buck had ever seen.
11. They invited the entire frisbee golf club to the wedding.
i wrote a thing: clouds are rolling, i need shelter from the storm (on ao3)
or: what i was yapping about earlier
rating: teen & up (catfud-typical profanity), no archive warnings apply (tho please read the tags!!)
word count: 5k
summary: maddie has an unexpected encounter in the baking aisle at the grocery store, then formulates a plan.
why you may want to read it: you're in the mood for a s8a fix-it!!!, you like song fics, you like orville peck, you like awkward encounters in grocery stores, you like meddling that also has an attempt at boundaries, you neeeeeeed bucktommy back together PRONTISSIMO
featuring: pop culture references, chimtommy bestieism, chivalry, get-along shirt mentions, puns, no character bashing, two-part harmonies in awkward three-part arrangement
little yellow sticker with a smiley face that says read me on ao3
boy who cried wolf but it's someone posting constantly about their 60 different wip's so when one is finally done it doesn't make a dent or matter anymore
Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard — Rated E — 16,568 words
Different first meeting, Puppy Play, BDSM, Fingers in Mouth
The music was too loud to have a meaningful conversation, but they tried. Tommy handed him another drink. Buck was too focused on not getting jostled and spilling the overpriced alcohol all over the both of them, so he missed the context, when Tommy said, ”Puppy?”
A bit of a non sequitur, but Buck didn't think anything of it. He had been called a golden retriever before, so he laughed and said, ”I mean, yeah.”
Tommy's whole face crinkled in a smile. ”Yeah, you are.”
