kitweewoos

[kitweewoos]

As usual my idle thoughts have turned into another fic.

Saturday

"What are you doing Saturday?" he asks, even though Evan has been not-quite-yelling at him while Tommy tries to fly a fucking helicopter. He's been going for almost four minutes straight. Tommy's pretty certain he's listing off the things he never told Tommy he was pissed off about in reverse sequential order from "Thanks, it was fun." back. He's barely past "Basketball tickets, Tommy? Basketball? In six months, I played basketball badly with you once and then spent every Lakers game we watched elbow deep in a subreddit about moths or something!"

Evan pauses. Blinks at the question. It's the first moment Tommy's been able to hear the rotors working in at least nine and a half minutes, back before he started to argue back.

"I'm free," he says, and Tommy thinks of the first time he'd ever asked, nerves propelling him out the door with finger guns, the tapping foot all the way down the elevator while he ran the words back and forth in his head over and over again, the way he kept randomly smiling the entire drive home to grab his work bag. So you're free, he'd asked, and he hadn't understood the significance of Evan's response until days later, until he'd done his first of many runners, how I am free, meant so much more than available for dinner and a movie on Saturday at 8.

Tommy nods. Chances a look at Evan to see him glaring at Tommy while he sucks in his lips to try to hide the way the corners of his lips are upturned. "Pick you up at 8," he says, and thinks of bullet point number... thirteen in Evan's rant where he implied Tommy never actually told him how he was feeling at any point in time during the entirety of their relationship. Maybe he can explain how excruciatingly vulnerable he felt he was being with making it so fucking obvious he'd chewed over the conversation they'd had after their first kiss so long and so obsessively that he'd memorized it.

"Great," Evan says

"Fine," Tommy replies.

"Awesome."

"Copacetic."

This earns him an eye roll and a glance he'd call fond if it weren't for the anger still stirring behind Evans eyes.

He only thinks to regret the question days later when Saturday is taken up by a funeral procession.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, with Evan plastered to his side, working himself up to a snore.

He pats at some of the loose curls he's been obsessively rolling through his fingers, entranced by the way the moonlight bounces off of them, entranced by the wet heat of Evan's breath against his skin.

"More of exactly this," Evan says, and Tommy snorts.

"If I fiddle with your hair any more it might start falling out."

He's a loose-limbed weight against Tommy's side, and Tommy would like to roll himself into the space between his muscle and skin and just nestle there for the rest of time. "Y'like my hair to-," he swallows a yawn, "too much for that."

That's true, at least. He had a point in asking, but he's struggling to remember what it was.

"Waz haturday?" he gets, in a mumble around another yawn.

Tommy twirls another lock of hair between his fingers. "There's a new exhibit at the Getty. Thought you might wanna go."

"Museum, and this," Evan manages into Tommy's ribcage.

"It's a date," Tommy murmurs, and waits for the telltale snuffle of Evan passing the fuck out.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, tongue between his teeth as he backs his way towards the chopper. He has to yell, even though Evan is five feet away, and Evan grins back, eyeing Tommy's hair being kicked around by the vortex of the blades.

"Handbook!" Hen chirps over the noise, her shorthand for stop flirting in my general vicinity I'll kill you both.

Evan shoots her a challenging grin. Glances around long enough to notice a few eavesdropping firefighters from other stations lingering near enough to hear. Sighs, and mouths a silent "You" that's visible from space. Tommy's gonna get so much shit from Harbor when this makes it's rounds, but Evan was extra hot today and Tommy's pretty sure his brain chemistry has been irrevocably altered by getting to sleep in his bed multiple nights a week.

"Pick me up at 8," Tommy yells over the noise, and, mortifyingly, throws the fingers guns back into play a moment before he turns to leave. Why had Evan ever thought he was cool?

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Evans asks, while Tommy balances his phone on a bin of protein powder before going back to digging in his junk drawer. "Also do you own a bandsaw."

Tommy glances up from the drawer. Takes in the sight of Evan, lounging on his pillows, looking indecent while he plays at innocence. Tommy wishes he was there, but he has way too much shit to do tomorrow to justify the drive, tonight.

"What the hell do you need a bandsaw for?"

Evan blinks. "You can find out Saturday if you bring it over."

"Evan, if you've been watching DIY videos to fall asleep again..."

"I get plenty of sleep, Tommy!"

Tommy begs to differ. If he's not around to point out Evan meant to be asleep an hour earlier, he's positive Evan loses at least three hours to YouTube and Twitter most nights.

Tommy sighs. "It's heavy as hell, Evan, and I'd have to jerry rig a pulley system to get it past the Impala while the engine's still out. Is this something we can do here?"

Evan contemplates. Nods.

"I'm assuming you need the truck, too."

"I can fit everything in the Jeep."

Tommy shoots him a look that does nothing to quell the shit-eating grin coming through the phone right now.

He bites back this particular sigh. "I'll pick you up."

"At 8."

Tommy shoots him a raised brow. Apparently Evan wants to piss off the neighbors.

"AM."

"Evan."

"I'll stop by that donut place early and get you that horrible pink drink you like."

Tommy's said 'no' to this man less times than he has drill sergeants. "You realize you're signing yourself up for the grumpiest boyfriend of all time?"

"I love grumpy Tommy," Evan says, and sounds like he means it.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Maddie asks, and Evan's gaze gets a little foggy for a moment.

His sister raises a brow at Tommy.

"Just a little inside joke," Tommy assures her, and can't hide his grin when Evan squeezes his knee under the table.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, and listens to Sal try to make excuses for a full minute and a half.

"...why do you ask," Sal finally asks after he runs dry.

"I'm moving. Thought I might bribe you with pizza and beer for some muscle."

Sal is quiet for longer than Tommy thinks he's ever managed. He ruins it by whistling his disbelief for at least fifteen seconds.

"Well, if it's that serious, Buckley better fucking be there so I can finally meet the kid who made you fucking crazy." He pauses. "Crazier," he amends. "What the fuck are you gonna do with the lift?"

"So I'll see you at my place at ten?"

"You're not freaking out. Why are you not freaking out?"

Tommy has a list of those reasons tucked behind a book Evan deemed 'the most boring thing I've ever let my eyes see' because he's still a little self conscious about the half-assed attempt at journaling he's been doing. He doesn't think Sal deserves a single one of those reasons.

"Bring extra packing tape," he shoots back, and hangs up before Sal can respond.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Eddie asks, and Tommy, irrationally, sort of wants to shoot him with lasers. Karen would probably let him borrow some.

He's not actually sure what Karen does in that lab of hers, but there has to be lasers, right?

Evan glances up from his perusal of the back of his beer label. "Um?" He darts his gaze to Tommy.

They haven't told anyone, and Tommy is pretending to be normal and chill and cool about that. He can keep a secret for another few days.

"If this is a sex thing you can keep it to yourself. I don't need another refresher on Tommy and Buck's sex life."

Tommy flickers between smug pleasure and exasperated annoyance. He settles somewhere in the middle, and spends the thirty seconds of eye contact and communicative facial expressions between Evan and Eddie thinking about what the weekend has in store for him.

"I mean, there's gonna be sex, but that's not, like, the point of the weekend."

Tommy raises a brow. "I never promised sex."

"It's a prerequisite for the other parts of the weekend."

"Oh look, I need a refill," Eddie says, already standing, holding up his mostly full bottle.

Evan kicks him under the table the moment Eddie's out of hearing range. "Stop freaking out. He's not the one who's getting a ring at the end of this trip."

Planning out their proposals together hadn't been something he ever thought he'd do, but once Evan had thrown it out there he'd gotten so lost in the sauce he'd forgoten it was weird. It's taken months to line this up and schedule it. They've talked it through so many times Tommy's pretty sure he could recite their itinerary from memory.

He's never gonna live down admitting he saw Eddie as competition. If it's not in Evan's proposal it might be in his vows.

"You didn't think I'd ditch you in a romantic cabin in the woods with a Jacuzzi tub that fits us both just because Eddie wanted to do something on Saturday, did you?"

No. But also yes. It's just his caveman brain shouting from behind the door Tommy locked it in when he finally understood exactly what he meant to Evan.

He's working on it.

"Just didn't want to spoil the surprise," he intones, and Evan narrows his eyes.

"Tommy."

Tommy slaps a hand on the table for Evan to grasp. "He's not the one getting a ring, Evan."

"Damn right. His hands are way too small. You ever notice he's got dainty fingers? That thing would fall off his thumb."

Tommy's dimples twitch, and Evan's grin is triumphant.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, and from halfway across the station he can hear a faint "Handbook!" in Hen's voice.

Evan rolls his eyes.

"I have to put on a tux and marry this dude," Evan says. "Why, you got something else in mind?"

Tommy shifts half an inch closer. "What a coincidence. I have to marry some dude this Saturday, too."

"Buck has work today, Thomas! And this is technically against the rules, you're not supposed to see each other!" Howie, this time, much closer to the bay doors than Hen was.

Tommy taps his knuckles against the hood of his truck. Leans into Evans space and steals a quick kiss. "See you Saturday?"

"See you tomorrow," Evan says, and ignores the peanut gallery to steal a lingering kiss of his own.

[kitweewoos]

What are you saying?

[kitweewoos]

Now I'm not saying that JD Vance killed the Pope, per se. I just think his actions raise some questions, like for example: Did JD Vance kill the Pope?

[kitweewoos]

🌅 🚁

[kitweewoos]

Imagine it's your last day alive and you're having to spend it with JD Vance 😭

[kitweewoos]

Anyway if nothing else matters then I hope people remember that Pope Francis used his last public address to call for a ceasefire in Gaza and call Israel a terrorist state:

"I continue to receive very serious and painful news from Gaza. Unarmed civilians are subjected to bombings and shootings. It is terrorism."

[kitweewoos]

[kitweewoos]

[kitweewoos]

sitting through a meeting with jd couch on easter killed the fucking pope

[kitweewoos]

maybe this is just me idk

[kitweewoos]

8x15 coda

"I should - maybe I should go," Tommy says, because Eddie has been a silent presence at Evan's side since he pulled up in his Uber and Tommy feels ... superfluous. They've been leaning against various kitchen counters for the better part of an hour now - Evan the only one to break the silence with choked laughter and a "Remember when -?" or "This was before you, Eddie - after you, Tommy, but -."

They've dwindled off into silence now, though. The ache in Tommy's chest is growing, has been since the moment Bobby Nash sealed that door shut behind him before Evan could do anything to stop him. He'd felt a little helpless, in that moment - had seen it with just enough time before Evan to reach for a comm that wasn't there, to try to warn Evan, or ask Bobby what the hell he was doing. Not that it would have mattered, either way.

That's the worst of it. That for Bobby, it had been inevitable. That while Tommy was flipping off the Chief Pilot and stealing another bird, while he and Evan took the military on a wild goose chase, while Athena suited up to save Chimney... Bobby was already dead. How long had he known? Evan's tried to explain it but not enough for Tommy to put it all together.

"No." Tommy's attention snaps to Evan. To the firm set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. Tommy can feel Eddie's gaze darting between them, but he'd be hard pressed to actually see it, considering Evan's expression has him caught up like a tractor beam. "Crazy concept, here, Tommy, but - but how about you just stay, this time?"

Tommy flinches.

Evan deflates.

Eddie scrambles out of the kitchen, and Tommy can vaguely hear keys rattling in the next room, the door opening. Shutting.

"That's not what I meant."

Tommy bites his lip. Squares his shoulders, and actually physically shakes out his arms so he doesn't fold them over his chest, even though it feels like leaving a target over his heart. "Yes, it is what you meant."

Evan swallows. When he rolls his jaw his nose flares, eyes going watery.

"I want you to stay."

Yeah, that one hits it's mark. Fucking bullseye.

"Evan, I don't - you're going through a hell of a time, right now, and it would -." He clears his throat. Forces himself to hold Evan's gaze. "Grief and loss are a horrible reason to -."

"Oh that's bullshit, Tommy."

He has a particular tone to his voice when he's actually calling someone out in a non-flirty way. Tommy hates it. Feels like he's under a fucking microscope. For all he'd done to hide away the soft underbelly, Evan's had a hand on it for months, now.

Evan takes a single, measured step closer.

Tommy tries to imagine there's super glue on the bottom of his shoes.

"Bobby's dead, and we're just - we're just gonna sit on this until I'm done grieving? That's never gonna happen, Tommy! I will sit in this for the rest of my life. I will feel him like a missing organ. But Bobby - Bobby would want me to live, okay? So this is me, living. Asking you to - to tell me if you wanna try that with me."

He has lungs, he's pretty sure. A working diaphragm. The innate sense to suck in air and blow out CO².

"He liked you, you know?" Evan continues, like he hasn't just hit Tommy with the force of a tank gun. "I never said, because I was stupid, and - and afraid that what I was feeling was gonna be too much for you. He told me you were good people. That you were good for me." Evan swipes angrily at his waterline. "We never even - but he - he knew, okay? He knew that you made me feel - and he knew that we were -."

Tommy hasn't had the heart to tell him that he'd stood in that silent tent and watched Bobby say goodbye. Hasn't had the heart to admit that he couldn't tear his eyes away long enough to turn off that monitor while Bobby made his peace. He doesn't feel like he deserves to know any of it. Even if he'd broken half a dozen laws for them, he's not a part. Never really has been. Never let them pull him in.

"I can - I can do this without you, Tommy."

It sounds like it hurts to say. Hurts to hear it, so that tracks.

"I can hold it together, and I can try my damndest to keep the people Bobby loved above water. I can do that, Tommy, and I can do it alone." A single step closer. A bridge Tommy could step onto, as well, if he were inclined to. "I don't want to. I want - the people I care about with me. I want Maddie and Chim and Eddie and Hen at my back. And I want you right there next to me. Like you were when we met. Like you were that night, when I needed you and you didn't even question it. That's the life I want, Tommy. It's the life I promised Bobby I'd have. What do you want?"

And that's the $64,000 question, isn't it?

Tommy isn't actually sure he's ever had a panic attack, but whatever his body is doing right now is a little concerning. His tongue is dry and yet somehow heavy. His face is hot. His arms feel heavy, solid, an immovable weight against his sides. When he blows out a breath, it comes out in staccato rhythm.

"I want to be the reason you don't have to do this shit alone," he admits, and with that sentiment in mind he doesn't blink away the tears, doesn't shift away. Just holds Evan's gaze and tries to convince his brain it doesn't need to actively think about breathing. The effort it takes to unstick a single heel from the floor is astronomical, but he does that, too, and then the other one. "I do want to stay."

Evan blinks. When Tommy steps closer, his throat works through a painful looking swallow. "We have to talk about our shit," he says. "And you can't just go running off every time -."

"Evan," Tommy interrupts, and watches his eyes flare with annoyance. "That was a really good speech, and I really want to kiss you about it."

It forces a laugh out of him, choked and bleary-eyed. "I'm so snotty," he whines, as Tommy winds a hand around his wrist, tugs him closer. "Eddie might come back."

"That might actually be helpful, for me," Tommy reminds him, just to watch him scowl. "You think a little runny nose is gonna turn me off? You once jacked me off while reciting an article about snail mucus."

"You're the freak in that scenario, Tommy, you came so fast I didn't even get to finish."

"I want to hear a thousand more irrelevant facts while you've got your fingers in my ass, Evan."

"My speech was way less horny," Evan complains, before he leans in to capture Tommy's lip between his teeth.

[kitweewoos]

just finished reading this coda of 8x15 by screamlet & i’m—cooking.

i’ve had the thought, since the episode, about tommy seeing everything happening on the monitors, but it truly hit me just now: not only was he the only witness to evan’s grief, but he is the only person out of all of them, except athena, bobby’s wife, to witness his death.

thinking back to bobby begins again, which I rewatched last night… If I remember correctly, chim and hen both had left the yard where maurice was by the time athena came in and bobby handed maurice over. It was just sal, tommy, and bobby left. he witnessed their meeting, and their parting.

tommy rescued them from otherwise certain death last year. bought them another year together. witnessed their reunion. and then: evan. he went over to evan’s to apologize, even though it wasn’t his fault, and admitted that he was jealous of what the 118 has going on, how it’s like a family now. evan includes him in that. “you threw in with us, no hesitation.”

six months later, six months into life with evan, tommy clearly still feels on the periphery, like he’s orbiting around the 118, at the hospital waiting to hear about denny. he feels comfortable enough to be there for evan. he feels comfortable enough to talk to and joke with howie and eddie while they wait. but he’s there as evan’s plus-one. he doesn’t feel like he’s there for himself. he’s still on the outside of a team that shows up even when things go wrong, especially when things go wrong—probably because he still doesn’t feel like he can have that. like he deserves it. like he’s earned it. like people want him to be part of that.

eventually, even evan will feel the same.

(right?)

(right??)

ravi knows who tommy is now; he wingmans their hookup, which is more than he’d hoped for, until it’s not.

he doesn’t hear anything from evan, for weeks, until—this. them getting fired is the best-case scenario. he wouldn’t be surprised if some extra-judicial measures came into play and they all ended up in a hole somewhere that makes a black site look like club med.

once again, the 118 pulls off a miraculous recovery—

until they don’t.

and it’s bobby. tommy knows what and how much bobby means to evan. hell, bobby means a lot to tommy, in a distant sort of way. bobby shepherded tommy’s transfer to harbor. bobby was the catalyst for tommy finally being honest with himself.

everyone else is occupied, even athena and evan, his partners in crime. tommy’s in the command tent watching the monitors so they can keep an eye on him, because he’s otherwise useless without ppe.

and so: does he feel the invisible string tighten, around his wrists and his throat and his tongue, as he witnesses the soul of bobby nash depart this mortal coil? as he witnesses athena lose her husband, as he once witnessed their poultry-powered meet-ugly? as he witnesses evan grieve, alone, in a reinforced underground tunnel, knowing what bobby means to him?

tommy broke up with evan so that evan couldn’t break his heart, because he knew that he was getting in too deep.

tommy knows now that ship had sailed. that even if he spent the rest of his life with evan, if evan let him, there would never be enough time.

and all he can do now is watch, digging his fingers into his own biceps, squeezing his own arms to ground himself in this monkey’s paw version of reality.

[kitweewoos]

Buck wakes up confused and congested. He feels like he’s been hit with the worst cold of his life. His whole body hurts, but his head is the worst—pounding, aching, heavy like a stone. He can’t breathe out of his nose. His mouth is dry like he’s been snoring for twelve hours, and maybe he has been. 

He’s in his own bed and his pillow is warm. So warm. And big. And solid, and moving rhythmically under his head. It’s soothing, rather than adding to his feeling of disorientation, and it takes him longer than it should to realize that’s because it’s not a pillow at all. It’s Tommy. Tommy’s here, in Buck’s bed, cuddled up with him, arm wrapped around him securely even in sleep, and Buck’s confusion gives way to a momentary flash of joy before the memory of why Tommy went home with him last night crashes reality back in. 

Bobby is dead. 

Not dying, not in critical condition, not in the hospital, not hurt, not missing. Dead. For real this time. Body bag and all. 

It rolls over him like a boulder and he’s crying before he can take another breath. He clings to Tommy’s body and soaks his shirt and loses himself in his grief. 

There are lips on his forehead and a soothing hand running across his back, so Buck must have woken Tommy up with his wailing and convulsing but he can’t bring himself to feel bad about that, too. Not when the world is grey and dark and wrong, so wrong, so empty without Bobby. 

Bobby gave Buck’s life meaning. Bobby gave Buck a purpose, a reason to grow up and commit, a clear path forward and a steady hand to help him walk it. Buck feels like he’s freefalling now and it’s unbearable. 

How can he live without Bobby? How can he know what the right way to live is without Bobby to guide him? How will he know if he’s making good decisions without Bobby’s comforting hand on his shoulder and Bobby’s voice in his ear saying, I’m proud of you, kid? 

He’s never going to hear that again. He’s not going to have Bobby calm him down at his wedding, when he’s nervous and excited and terrified of messing things up and so full of bouncing energy that he needs Bobby to hold him in place and tell him it’s all going to be okay, happy tears shining in his eyes, and that he’s proud of Buck. What, is Buck’s own dad going to step in and do that? Buck almost laughs at the prospect. Phillip Buckley is not a comforting man. 

Bobby is never going to hold Buck’s child. He’s never going to retire and offer to babysit all the time and send the kid home with too many cupcakes or cookies; sugar-high and gleeful. He’s never going to buy them a firefighter onesie or cry the first time they call him Grandpa Bobby. 

Buck is never going to watch Bobby grow old and tease him about his hair going full grey or remind him to take his pills while Buck takes over cooking for the station full time. Buck has to do that now, he realizes. No more baby stepping. He’s the chef now. Bobby taught him so much, but Buck still had so much more to learn from him. He wasn’t done. He wasn’t ready. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. He wasn’t ready for this. He wanted more time. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. He wasn’t ready. It’s not-

“I know, sweetheart,” Tommy says. He holds Buck close, holds him together, and he runs a hand through Buck’s hair. “I know, I’m so sorry.” 

Buck doesn’t know what else he’s said out loud. He’s so sore all over. He doesn’t know how his body hurts so badly when none of this can be real. It’s a coma, a nightmare, a hallucination, an unreality. The world stopped when Bobby’s heart did. There’s no other possibility. So why does it all still hurt so bad? 

“I need to text him,” Buck gasps. His voice is scratchy and thick. “I need to make sure he’s okay.” 

He tries to sit up, tries to feel around for his phone, but his whole body is so heavy. 

Tommy makes a little sympathetic noise. “Evan.” 

He squirms in Tommy’s hold. “No, you don’t understand. Tommy, it can’t be real. Last time he died it’s because I- I was in a coma, and none of it was real. It was the lightning. This is just the lightning again. I’m in another coma. I just need to text him.” 

Buck knows how he sounds. He can feel it around the edges—the desperation, the delusion, the denial—but he’s hot behind the eyes with the force of this solution. 

“Evan,” Tommy repeats, simple and clear, grounded, and Buck crumbles. 

Tommy holds him through it. Tommy lets him cry and yell and shake and bargain, deny, rage. He lets Buck squeeze him tight and soak his shirt and he doesn’t complain, doesn’t flinch. 

Tommy is solid. He’d picked Buck up off the ground last night, held him while he shook, stayed by his side while he made sure everyone knew, everyone was okay, everyone was taken care of. Then he’d taken Buck home (Buck doesn’t remember the journey), washed Buck clean (Buck doesn’t remember the shower), dressed Buck in soft clothes (Buck does remember coming back to himself and watching Tommy root through his closet, his drawers, and telling Tommy to grab something for himself too), and tried to get Buck into bed alone (Buck had grabbed his arm and said, “Please,” and Tommy had nodded and crawled in after him). 

Tommy had taken care of Buck after Buck had taken care of everyone else. They’re not together and the last thing Buck had said to Tommy before yesterday had been so mean, and still Tommy is here. Still Tommy showed up for him—for Chim, for the 118, but for him.  

Tommy’s good people, Bobby had said. He’s good for you. 

Bobby was right. Bobby was always right. 

“He liked you,” Buck sobs into Tommy’s chest. “I think you were the first one he liked and I- I fucked it up. The first- the first good partner and I- I fucked- I can’t do anything- I’m gonna be alone and he- I won’t even- even have him-“ 

Tommy shushes him gently. “You’re not alone, Evan. Even without him, you’re not alone. You have so many people.” 

“I don’t have you.” 

“Right. I’m in your bed right now, covered in your snot, because you don’t have me.” Flat, sarcastic. 

Buck makes a wounded, confused noise and Tommy presses an apologetic kiss to his forehead. 

“Sorry, sorry. I can’t turn it off sometimes. Let me try that again.” Tommy clears his throat, rubs Buck’s back. Buck can hear Tommy’s heart pounding under the ear he has pressed to his chest. “You have me, Evan. I’ll always come when you call. Whatever you need. And this isn’t the time for this, but… but you didn’t fuck anything up. We both said some things we shouldn’t have, but it’s not unsalvageable. When it is time, when you’re feeling better, however far in the future that is, we’ll talk. For real. If that’s still what you want. But even if it isn’t, I’m here for you. Let’s leave it as simple as that for now. I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.” 

“Don’t go.” Buck tightens his grip, suddenly terrified. “Please.” 

“I won’t, I won’t.” A quick squeeze, another forehead kiss. “I’m here. Whatever you need, for as long as you need me.” 

“Thank you,” Buck manages before he starts crying again. He wants to say so much more. He wants to tell Tommy that he loves him and he never wants him to leave, that he’ll need Tommy for the rest of his life. But Tommy is right, this isn’t the time. Tommy won’t believe him if he says that right now, and he probably shouldn’t. If Buck hadn’t felt this way for the better part of a year, he wouldn’t trust it either. 

So he just clings tighter to Tommy and cries, cries, cries, and Tommy lets him. Tommy holds him and rocks him and soothes him as best he can, as best as anyone could. He keeps Buck tethered to the earth and helps him slowly make sense of this new reality. He lets Buck crash apart and helps put him back together. 

Later, after Buck has cried himself out for the time being, Tommy calls Eddie and promises to keep him in the loop. Tommy calls Maddie and Karen to check on Chim and Hen. Tommy puts each call on speaker so that Buck can hear, so that Buck can lay safely on Tommy’s chest and feel like he’s part of the conversations, so that he can hear for himself that everyone else is okay, that everyone will be there to lay Bobby to rest. That everyone will be there for him, too. 

Tommy convinces him to shower and eat. Tommy washes him head to toe and cooks for him. Buck can’t stand to not be touching Tommy, needs to touch Tommy to feel real, so Tommy lets Buck sag against him while he washes him and cooks for him, and Buck feels just a tiny bit better by the end of it. His world has still been ripped apart at the seams, but at least he has someone solid to lean against. At least he doesn’t have to hold himself up. At least he isn’t alone. 

Buck isn’t okay, but his body feels a little better and he’s a little more certain that the world will still be here tomorrow than he was this morning. Buck isn’t okay, but he isn’t alone, either. He doesn’t have Bobby, but he has someone who will keep him steady. It’s not the same, it’s not even equivalent, but it’s not nothing, either. It’s something real. It’s something to keep him going and to give him hope for the future. 

Buck isn’t okay, but he watches Tommy put the leftovers away in the fridge and he thinks that someday he will be. Tommy brings him a new box of tissues and when he smiles gratefully, nose clogged and eyes swollen, he thinks that someday he might even be happy again.

[kitweewoos]

@liminalmemories21 and I wrote a little 8.15 - Lab Rats coda, buck/tommy.

Tommy hears Evan say, "Dad?" and just for a second he thinks that somehow, against all odds, it's Bobby standing there. He stands up so fast the chair tips over as he goes for the door. 

The bubble of hope pops abruptly when Evan says, "What are you doing here?"

"Your sister called,” a voice he doesn't recognize says.

And well, fuck. There's just no way this ends well. 

He rights the chair, squeezing the top slat, letting the wood bite into his hands. Evan was barely holding it together as it was, only really doing so by the skin of his teeth, by being the force of nature that he can be – focusing on his team, his family -- not on himself, or on. Or on Bobby. He asked me to, Evan told him through a sob, after, even as Tommy could see him try to push down the loss, to keep it off his face. Bobby did know his boy – worked best when given a direct plan of action. 

Tommy scrunches his nose against the tears that threaten to fall again, to clog his throat. Wipes away the one that escapes and squares his shoulders to face whatever the fuck is happening in the doorway. 

Wonders what on god's green earth Maddie had been thinking. Although, to be fair, he's going to go out on a limb and assume she didn't think their parents would get on a plane and fly to California to land just in time for the funeral. 

Texts Chim / 🚨Phillip and Margaret are here🚨/

Gets a string of texts in response judging by the way his phone is buzzing in his back pocket, and he can't look at any of them because Evan and his parents have come around the corner and Even is saying awkwardly, "Mom, Dad, you remember Tommy." And then when neither one of them says anything, even more awkwardly, "You met him at Maddie's wedding."

Philip shakes his hand reluctantly, good WASP manners too ingrained to be actively rude enough not to.

Margaret looks at Evan. "I didn't realize you had company. Your sister didn't say."

Evan shrugs, doesn't answer. Doesn't explain.

Which, actually, Tommy wouldn't have minded a little bit of explanation, just so that he knows where he stands. Because he'd taken Evan home after the lab, after Bobby died. Nobody had questioned it. He hasn't left since. Evan hasn't asked him to, and he hasn't offered. Eddie's flight is due to land in an hour. He's not sure what happens after that. Although if Phillip and Margaret are here – for what? – having Eddie as back up might be for the best. That’s a devil he knows. 

Tommy blinks and Evan is making coffee, and handing his mother a slice of coffee cake on a plate with a napkin - because given an awkward social situation, Evan, he learned the last time they tried this, will default to the polite rules of society to get through it. He doesn’t wonder where the coffee cake came from, because he'd discovered when he snooped around for breakfast ingredients that ill-fated morning that the only thing in Evan’s freezer is baked goods. 

He takes the moment to check his texts, discovers that if Maddie had known their parents might show up that she hadn't told Chim. His / 😱 ‼️ / makes Tommy snort.

He checks to see if anyone needs him for anything, and then texts Eddie. As far as he knows Eddie's still pissed at him for breaking up with Evan, doesn't know if Evan told him about the hook up the other week, or the way that he'd said he was jealous of Eddie, can't imagine that's improved Eddie's opinion of him if he did. But – man deserves to be warned about the clusterfuck he's about to walk into.

/ Phillip and Margaret are here /

gets / 👀/ from Eddie, and then / why? / and then / like this day could get any fucking worse / 

He’d only met them the once, in passing, nearly a year ago now, but he’s heard about them plenty - from Chim, from Eddie, and haltingly from Evan.  He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the full story of whatever it is, but he knows enough to know that adding them to the mix is not going to help Evan get through this day.  He’d never really worried about it before, because he’d met Athena, Bobby – the important people.

He comes back into the kitchen to hear Evan saying, “You should go to Maddie’s, I’m sure she needs the help.”

And Evan’s mother waves a hand, saying, “We talked to her yesterday, she’s fine.” And then leaning in to put a hand on Evan’s arm, and he can see from across the room how surprised Evan is by that, and how much he doesn’t know what to do with it. Adds another mental note to the list of things he knows about the Buckley parents.

Thinks Margaret kind of missed Evan’s point.  Maddie may be fine, but Chim’s not.  Might be nice if her mother volunteered to give Maddie some extra space to support her husband, since she flew all the way here.  He’s still not sure why the Buckley parents are here.

They don’t really have time to dig into it; they have a funeral to get to. 

****************  

The funeral is awful.  Everyone in their dress uniforms. The pomp. The circumstance. The weight of the loss literally on their shoulders. Staring at the back of Chim’s head, having to put one foot in front of the other, maintaining composure when all he wants is to hold Evan and shield him from everyone and everything. Instead, on a city street -- a funeral march. Step. Step. Step. 

The only time he and Evan have been in sync since they split six months ago and it’s to bear the burden of the first man to ever really give them a shot. To believe in them.  

The brass gives a speech. Athena had asked Evan if he wanted to speak, and he’d shaken his head. “I can’t.”

He agrees.  Has a fierce need to let Evan keep his grief private, not for public consumption.

After the funeral he hears Evan say, "We're going to Bobby and Athena's," and his heart fucking breaks at the way Evan's voice cracks halfway through Bobby's name. But then he's continuing, "for the wake." He hesitates. "Do you want me to call you an uber, or something?"

"Oh," Margaret says, and she sounds clearly surprised. "We thought we'd go with you."

It startles Evan into honesty. "Why?"

"To pay our respects. He was your captain. I know he meant a lot to you." Which is nice, until she adds, "That's what people do, Evan."

The way she says his name grates on Tommy's last nerve. He wants to say, 'no, people don't fly across the country to crash a funeral.  People write a nice card.  People know when to stay in their lane'.  Almost says it, when Evan looks at him.  But, whatever is going on between them, shutting Evan’s parents down probably isn’t his place. Is tempted to look around for Eddie, who might be able to get away with it.

Margaret looks torn, and Maddie – bless her – says, "I'm sure Jee’d like a last bit of one-on-one time with her grandma before the new baby comes."

"I thought Mrs. Lee was watching Jee this afternoon," Margaret says, proving that she is in fact totally incapable of reading a room. Even Phillip looks a little abashed.

He loses track of Philip and Margaret for a while at the wake.  More people than he expected come up to offer him their condolences, like he has a right to grieve Bobby as much as Eddie, and Hen, and Chim, and Evan.

Finds them again when he hears Margaret asking Evan if he’s ready to leave.  Like she expects her claim on his time to supercede anything else.  LIke Bobby’s fucking funeral.

Turns in time to catch Evan’s absolutely blank look.  “I’m staying.”

Margaret looks taken aback.  “Oh, well, should we meet you for dinner somewhere?”

Evan shakes his head, looks impatient for the first time.  “No.”  For a second Tommy thinks he’s going to leave it at that, and wants to applaud, but Evan seems to realize how blunt that is, or maybe the look of disapproval on Philip’s face clues him in.  Either way he says, “I’m going to stay, help clean up after everyone leaves.”

Margaret’s face tightens, and he wants to shake her, ask what she thought was going to happen here.  They’d flown out for the funeral, so on some level they understand how important Bobby had been to Evan.  Just not apparently on any kind of level that lets them empathize with his grief.  

He doesn’t know where they go, but he does see Margaret and Phillip leave, stopping to talk to Athena before they do.  Has no idea what they say to her, but she looks faintly surprised by it.

Margaret and Phillip are at Evan’s new house, Eddie’s old house, when they finally all get home.  They’ve made dinner.  Like any of them have an appetite, like they hadn’t just put away a semi-truck load of leftovers from the wake -- everyone tries to feed grief, like if you fill up on food, the sadness won’t have anywhere to go. 

Reins it in.  They made dinner.  That was kind of them.  One less thing for Evan and Eddie to have to think about.  He eyes the casserole that Margeret puts on the table.  It’s bland, but inoffensive.  Suspects that Evan could make it better.  Catches Eddie’s eye and has to stifle a snort when it is very clear that Eddie is thinking the same thing.  Whatever grievances Eddie has with him – and Tommy’s prepared to admit they’re mostly merited – they’re on hold for however long Evan’s parents are here.

Dinner conversation starts with polite anodyne conversation about the funeral, how big the turnout was, how nice everyone was at the wake.

It moves on to Phillip saying, “The house is – different.  We didn’t know you’d moved.”

Evan picks at his food and just says, “It wasn’t that long ago.”

Eddie takes the fall.  “I moved back to Texas.  Evan took over my lease.”

Philip nods.  “Maddie hadn’t mentioned that.”  

That brings Evan’s head up a little, “Oh, um, yeah.”  Then he frowns a little.  “Why would she?”

Margaret gives a brittle laugh.  “Well, it’s not as if you tell us anything.  If we didn’t talk to Maddie we wouldn’t know anything at all about your life.”

Tommy bites back the urge to suggest that maybe there’s something they could infer from that.

Margaret looks at where Evan’s plate is still more than half full.  “You’re not eating.” Evan looks at his plate.  “Sorry.  I’m not very hungry.”

Margaret’s lips purse, and he silently dares her to say something.  She doesn’t.  Looks around the living room instead.  “I like this.  It’s much more grown up than your old apartment.”

Tommy winces and concentrates on his food.

Evan’s eyes flick around.  “Yeah.  I guess.”

Her lips purse again.  “Evan, we’re trying.”

Evan looks blank.  Eddie sends Tommy an alarmed look and mouths ‘oh shit’ at him.

Philip clears his throat.  “We came all this way. Your mother made you dinner.  I know you don’t call.  But, is it too much to ask that you talk to us when we’re here?”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” Evan mutters.  And Tommy would bet a lot that he doesn’t realize he’d said that out loud, knows from experience that when you back Evan into a corner he lashes out. Wonders how on earth Evan’s parents don’t seem to know this.

Margaret’s face is a perfect picture of frozen devastation, and he’d feel sorry for her if she wasn’t making Evan’s loss all about her.  Wasn’t making a bad day exponentially worse.

There’s a knock on the door, and they all look around — doesn’t know who it could be, they’re all here. 

Evan gets up to answer it, Tommy sips his wine to have something to do with his hands. Eddie twirls his fork mindlessly in the mess of noodles on this plate. 

“May?” He hears and then, “are you okay? Is Athena— I can grab my coat—“ 

“No, no, we’re—“ something garbled, and then “not fine but –” A pause and then “I talked to Mom and we wanted you to have this.”  There’s the sound of Evan taking a stumbling step back into the wall.

“I can’t, May, that’s for family, that’s for Athena — for you, for—“ and Tommy can’t bear to hear his voice breaking, cracking, gets up and leans into the hallway to see Evan clutching a flag. 

Bobby’s flag. 

“It is for family,” May’s voice is steady, despite the tears running down her face. “Mom said she had their house. His medals. She had what she needed and she wanted you—“ May gulps. “He would have wanted his son to have this.” 

Behind him, Tommy hears two chairs being pushed back and whips around.  

“You need to go,” he hears himself saying before he even realizes he’s going to. He hadn’t said anything earlier, wasn’t sure if it was his place, but he wants to try and preempt whatever they’re going to say now.  

“Evan,” Margaret says, warning and entreaty, looking over Tommy’s shoulder. He feels Evan behind him, turns slightly and can see May standing awkwardly, shifting her feet like she’s not sure she should be seeing this. He understands; isn’t sure he wants to witness this either.

Evan just shakes his head. “Tommy’s right.”

Phillip stands up, arm around his wife’s waist, staring at Tommy.  “He’s here.  He’s not family.  Maddie said you broke up.”  Pauses and then digs the knife in. “She said he broke up with you. That you were devastated.”

And Evan looks at him like it's the first time he's really registered that Tommy's still there, that he hasn't left. And Tommy holds his breath, waiting to see what Evan will say, if he'll finally ask him to leave. 

Instead he says, "He's here because he always shows up when I need him, and because he's willing to keep trying even when we both fuck it up." 

The ‘unlike you’ goes unsaid. But, Tommy's pretty sure people from three counties over heard it loud and clear.

Evan’s on a roll now, all the things he’s been holding back all day coming out now that the dam’s been broken.  “He tried to save Bobby twice, risked his life for Bobby.  Risked jail for him.  And you?  You didn’t even — “ he chokes up.

“Funerals are for everyone else. Wakes are for family,” May says unexpectedly.  “Evan was Bobby’s son.  He gets to decide whoever else he wants to have here.”   She holds Evan’s gaze when he looks at her, and after a moment he nods.  Reaches out for Tommy’s hand, holding it hard.

“I buried my-, my father today. I’d like you to leave.”  Margaret and Phillip are frozen by the dining room table.  Evan unbends enough to say. “I’ll call you before you fly home.”

May looks cooly at Margaret and Phillip, every inch Athena’s daughter. “I have an uber outside, we can drop you wherever.” 

Later, in bed, he’s curled around Evan. “He was supposed to be here,” barely aloud, just a whisper of a breath. “He was going to stand up for me, tie my tie and—“ Evan’s voice breaks and he lets out a single, wracking sob, his back shaking.

“He taught you,” he says to Evan, to himself. “He taught you what you need to know. To do. To be who you are.”

“I never told him,” Evan chokes out, “that I loved him, that he was my—“

“He knew,” Tommy whispers into his shoulder blades. “He knew.”

“He told me he didn’t have to worry.” Evan rolls over and pins him with a stare, the light of the moon just reflecting off the white of his eyes. “That you were good people.  Don’t make him a liar.” Tommy swallows hard, holds his gaze as much as he wants to look down, away, anywhere but at Evan, tear-stained cheeks shimmering in the blue light. “He was a lot of things, but never a liar.”

“I won’t.” It breaks out of him, cracks open his chest and crawls out, like the baby in Alien, leaves him bleeding and open - would give everything to make the lie true.

“You did,” and there it is, Tommy wishes he could take it back, could live up to Bobby’s estimation of him.  He wants to be that man.  For Bobby.  For Evan.

He can’t lie again, “I did.” Looks between them.  “I won’t again.”  Evan’s lashes shadow his cheeks, like he doesn’t want to look to see if Tommy is lying.  He brushes tear off of Evan’s cheek, admits, “I’m really bad at it. Leaving you. I can’t — I can’t stay away. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t,” Evan says finally.  “I never did.”

“Okay.  Then I won’t.”  It’s a promise to Evan.  To Bobby.  To himself.  

[kitweewoos]

[kitweewoos]

You look sad, what happened?

I got mood poisoning.

[kitweewoos]

oh jesus, please tell me you aren’t naked on my couch with my sister.