#evan buckley's stutter

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Every Part of Me

"Th-that was amazing," Buck murmured, nuzzling into Tommy's shoulder. His voice was soft, still slightly breathless. "Thank you for...for taking such good c-care of me."

Tommy smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Buck's temple. "Always, sweetheart," he replied, his tone warm and affectionate. "And your stutter? Absolutely adorable."

Buck froze for a moment, insecurity seeping into his veins. "O-oh," he said, tensing slightly in Tommy's arms. "Is it that...that noticeable?"

Tommy looked at Buck curiously, observing the shift in his demeanor. "I mean, it's definitely something I notice, but I think it's charming. Are you okay?"

Buck's next words came out slowly and deliberately. Tommy could tell he was doing everything in his power not to stutter. "I'm fine. I just didn't realize it was so pronounced."

Sensing Buck's discomfort, Tommy's voice softened. "Baby, relax and talk to me."

Buck met Tommy's eyes, and his walls came tumbling down. "I-I've never...never really talked about th-this before," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I've had the st-stutter my whole...my whole life. My parents p-put me in speech th-therapy starting at three. I tried, so h-hard to do well. My-my parents hated... hated it, but it never really got b-better."

"Oh Ev-" Tommy began, but Buck continued, his words coming faster now as if a dam had broken.

"I remember my parents getting so...so frustrated with...with me. 'Just sp-spit it out, Evan, we haven't...haven't got all day,'" Buck mimicked, his voice taking on a bitter edge.

Tommy once again felt intense anger towards Buck's parents, fighting the urge to voice exactly what he thought of them. Instead, he listened intently as Buck continued.

"Dr. C-copeland said strong emotions...emotions seem to tr-trigger it," Buck explained, his stutter more pronounced as he delved deeper into his painful past. "And that it w-was probably w-worse around my parents because...because of how they make me feel."

"I was so...so lucky to have M-maddie," Buck said, a hint of warmth entering his voice for the first time since he began his story. "I n-never really...really got p-picked on about it because... because of her."

His lips quirked in a small, fond smile. "A kid c-called me Blabbering...Blabbering Buckley once, and she g-got so angry about...about it that it n-never happened again."

"Just... just recently I've r-realized that strong e-emotions doesn't n-necessarily mean negative...negative ones," Buck said, his eyes meeting Tommy's with a mix of vulnerability and affection.

He took a deep breath before continuing, "I feel...feel strong emotions w-with you all...all the time, Tommy."

"Oh baby, I feel strong emotions with you too," Tommy said, his voice filled with warmth. "I am so glad you shared all of this with me. I never, ever want you to feel bad about your stutter. It's something so endearing and so uniquely Evan. I love it, and..." Tommy paused briefly, his eyes locked on Buck's. "And I love you, Evan."

Buck beamed, hearing those beautiful words for the first time. "I love...love you too, T-Tommy. So...so much."

Tommy pulled him in for a heated kiss, pouring all his emotions into it. When they finally parted, Buck's eyes were shining.

"Thank you for loving all of me," Buck said softly. "Even the parts I don't love about myself."

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Oliver saying Buck has never had to work to get a love interest, oh I want to see Buck so giddy and clumsy and awkward and just completely out of sorts when he finally realizes he has a crush on Eddie. So much so that the rest of the fire fam looks at him like “Boy, are you good???” 😭

[vanmarkus]

9-1-1 • S3E03 ↳ “The Searchers” + bonus

[asraindarkness]

evan buckley’s stutter you are so important to me.

[watchyourbuck]

Eddie: how tall are you?

Buck: mmm about 6’2

Eddie: right

Eddie: and on your knees?

Chimney: *chokes* GUYS PLEASE

[willmiwi]

Okay so silly little thing I want; no NEED: I want buddie to be either fighting or flirting w each other on a call and get told by some of the victims "oh my god GET A ROOM !!!!". I just knowww their hearts would drop out of their ass *evil smirk*

[evanbuckleykinnie]

He really noticed it on a random Friday afternoon, sat around the table as Bobby cooked and Hen and Chim went about their usual routine of prodding and poking at Buck to get a funny response from him.

It wasn't like he'd never noticed it before, the small stutter that presented itself as Buck spoke. Sometimes it came out in frustration, other times during heated discussions where passion was like an all engulfing flame, and then there were the times it came out when they were speaking quietly between themselves and Eddie was staring too intently without realising it. But on that Friday afternoon, it finally clicked in his head that he had noticed it and had always been noticing it.

"Come on, you can't think there's been no one!" Chim had exclaimed over a mouthful of some spaghetti concoction Eddie hadn't really felt like eating that day. "Statistically, there's been more than one woman who's faked it for your ego."

"Oh, definitely more than one." Hen had chimed in, smile small and amused in a way Eddie had grown rather fond of.

"But I've never felt like anyone lied to me." Buck insisted to both of them and, bless the poor guy, Eddie believed Buck believed that with his whole heart. "I've- I've read about guys, you know... Not putting in the effort. I've made sure I put in the effort." Blue eyes scanned the table, falling on him. "Come on, Eds. What about you?"

Eddie had shrugged, caught off guard. He forgot, sometimes, that he wasn't just a spectator in the presence of everyone. Pulling on a small, sympathetic smile, Eddie held up his hands as he reclined back in his seat.

"Can't help you here, man." Buck's responding scoff had brought a small chuckle out of Eddie before he could stop it. "Look, I'm just saying... I haven't really been on the playing field in a while and the last person wasn't really someone who'd spare me the humiliation, y'know?"

"But I put in the work!" The response was bordering on desperate, distressed in the way this ribbing routine was designed to get him. Buck's ears were red, eyes wide, hands flailing wildly. "Look I- I.. I mean.. Sure, maybe not at first but- but.. Surely not as many as you're tryna say, Chim."

The click happened there. Something small, barely perceptible to most, had shifted in the way Buck was speaking and Eddie had clocked it as if a neon sign had suddenly appeared above the man's head. They were getting close to the limit, pushing and nudging Buck to the ledge of actual and genuine distress. Eddie knew the signs, he just hadn't really thought about them before. The more frequent repetition of words, the raising of his shoulders, the way his jaw worked even before he'd said what he wanted to say.

"I don't know what to tell ya, Buckaroo. With your track record? There's been at least five."

An eruption was about to happen. Eddie could see it. Hear it in the breath Buck pulled in, how it hitched in his chest like the rush of words were already tripping over themselves before he'd even formed them. A shadow was forming, ugly and cloudy and full of that self-doubt Buck always seemed to have floating above him.

"Hey, Buck, it's probably less than that. I'm sure you're a capable guy."

The silence that followed was thick. Oppressive. Eddie had spoken before he'd even registered he had something to say. He hadn't thought the words that had left him, he had actually vocalised them and there was no way of physically clawing them back into his mouth so he could chew them into mush and swallow them down.

Four pairs of eyes landed on him, all holding very different emotions. Bobby's were plainly observant, if not slightly amused. Hen's held that same amusement, but there was a warmth in them that had Eddie resisting the urge to squirm in his chair. Chim's were full of an incredulous sort of shock. But Buck's...

The shadow had passed, leaving those pretty blue eyes bright and clear. Doubt visibly changed to something surprised. A gentle, almost apprehensive type of surprise that had Buck's head cocked to the side ever so slightly as he stared at Eddie, or right through him. And then that, whatever that was, turned into a smug satisfaction, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk.

"Thank you." Buck's eyes found Chim, much to Eddie's conflicting feelings of relief and dismay, hand gesturing towards Eddie. "You see?"

Eruption averted, doubt neutralised, but at what cost? Chim had gone back to bickering with a much less distressed Buck, Bobby was back to stirring whatever he had in the pan he was working over, but Hen still had her eyes on him. Eddie's face had burned as he attempted to avoid her eyes without seeming any more off than he already seemed, focusing on grabbing some random piece of bread he had no appetite for just to give himself something to do.

As he chewed, and as Hen finally gave up on trying to meet his eyes again, he had noticed Buck's ears had remained red. Redder than usual. The corner of his mouth remained pulled into a sort of half smile even as he argued about his bedroom abilities and Eddie had been certain, as he sat there, that he was being watched through peripheral vision. He had thought then that maybe, just maybe, knowing Evan Buckley so intimately yet so painfully silently, was worth it for just a little bit more of... That. Whatever that was.

[theotherbuckley]

I need the 118 responding to a call involving a sex incident where both parties are male. Buck in his newly found bi discovery just making an absolute fool out of himself not knowing how to act.

[lookforanewangle]

me writing in buck's stutter every time he's upset or nervous: don't worry baby I heard your stutter with my own two ears, I won't forget

[gayofthefae]

Yes I am constantly reminding myself that this wasn't "special little treat for episode 100". They made a commitment to the direction of his storyline.

i somehow only now just realized that this thursday we might (most likely) see buck kissing tommy again. like buck kissing a man was not a one time thing, y’all. he knows he’s bisexual so he’s gonna be kissing men, or at least one man, semi-regularly now probably.

how am i meant to deal with this? i barely survived one kiss. how am i meant to just be normal through this all?

[megalony]

Evan Buckley (911) Masterlist

This was the 911 masterlist, but now this is dedicated to Evan (Buck) and there is a separate masterlist for Eddie. I hope you all enjoy them.

Main Masterlist

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Dark! Evan Buckley Masterlist

Evan (Buck) Buckley:

I Was Worried

Care to Dance

Buck Jr

We Made It

Professional

Did I Stutter?

See The Difference

Obsessive

Early Arrival

Bathroom Revelations

Family Favouritism

Checked Out

Helpless

His Own Miracle

You Look Beautiful

You Saved Me

Being Threatened

I'm Home

Hostage

A Piece of Me

Old Memories

Call For a Rescue

I Won't Lose Her

Double Trouble

Comatose

Helping Hands and Paws

Sick Day

Falling For Me

Communication Error (Deaf! reader)

Give Me a Reason (Deaf! reader)

Hypo State

Emergency Situation

I'm Taking You Home

Is This Your Husband

Protect His Girls

A Burden On You

It's Yours

You Need To Choose

Let Me Help

Little Bird Part 2

You Didn't Know?

A Bad Night

One In A Million

Wish I Knew

Just In Time

Tiny Little Fighter

I'll Take Him

Meet My Family Part 2

My Little Girl

Matters Of The Heart

Heated Discussion

Keep You From Harm

You've Done Enough

Birthday Wishes

Touchy Situation

Finally Coming True

Resemblance (Series Masterlist)

Too Stimulating (Autistic! Reader)

Another Present (Christmas fic)

Mayday, Mayday

Beautiful Destruction

Exploding Emotions Part 2

It's Bubba Part 2

Can't You Be Mine Part 2 Part 3

She's Not Here Part 2

Have You Slept Part 2

Strike Me Down Part 2

There's My Girl Part 2

My Squad Part 2 Part 3

Series:

Resemblance (Series Masterlist)

She Needs Help (Series Masterlist)

Call Me Dad (Series Masterlist)

Baby-Trapped (Series Masterlist)

It's Complicated (Series Masterlist)

[disaster-j]

A lot of speculation (and some bitchass judgemental commentary) on why Tommy calls Buck Evan and i wanna give my two cents

I believe that Chim did NOT introduce them properly when he showed up. He was just like "hey Tommy bro it's been forever we gotta meet under non someone's life threatening circumstances oh yeah these losers are with me they're at the 118 too say hi losers this guy is gonna steal us a chopper"

And Buck was standing there a little starstruck as Tommy smiled and shook his hand and he definitely did his lil anxious stutter thing where he went "oh um hi im- evan- evan buckley" and before he could manage to get out the "you can call me Buck part" Tommy went "hi Evan, nice to meet you" and the fucking SOFT way Tommy said his name just had Buck's brain melting so he forgot about the Buck thing and then well they were stealing helicopters flying into hurricanes and it just settled as A Thing in his head that Tommy calls him Evan and Buck kinda just Likes It.

Meanwhile Tommy is increasingly confused about the Buck thing the more time they spend together and the more time he spends with the extended 118 fam the more he realises that NO ONE calls Buck Evan except Evan had very specifically introduced himself as "Evan. Evan Buckley" and had never once told Tommy he could call him Buck and now it's been so long Tommy's just afraid to ask what's going on.

This is all now canon in my head also I wanna read fics where Tommy is confused about the name thing now HAS ANYONE WRITTEN THE FICS!?!?

[asraindarkness]

i can’t believe some ppl don’t see buck’s stutter??? like the boy literally has it specially when he is excited or stressed. LIKE WHAT ARE YOU EVEN WATCHING???

[alchemistc]

Tommy doesn't quite startle, when Evan reaches out for his hand, halfway down the block on their way to the little park tucked in behind a row of boutiques, but it takes him a moment to accept the touch, Evan's pinky sliding over the back of Tommy's hand as their shoulders bump together, the both of them a little too giddy to blame the coffee alone.

Evan makes an aborted movement like he's second guessing the attempt, and Tommy twitches his hand back just enough to snag his fingers.

At his side, Evan ducks his head, cheeks pinking, lips rubbing together, smile going wide and bright.

He feels overheated in his hoodie, but now their fingers are interlocking, and Evan is shifting his weight to adjust the angle of their arms, and Tommy can just deal with the warmth, actually.

His sister's wedding. They're both insane, Tommy decides, right then and there, and if this continues - if this continues, Tommy's just going to take his cues from Evan.

(I am all in, Tommy thinks, in Scott Patterson's voice, and then drops that thought like a hot fucking potato. He tables it, at least. For later.)

"I - uh - I told Eddie, about - well I told him." Evan grimaces, but he holds up their intertwined hands for a moment, a clear gesture about what, exactly, he'd told Eddie. Tommy wonders exactly how much he'd said. He wants to climb in behind his eyeballs and pick at his brain, which is so beyond the pale of weird and intense. Evan still thinks he's cool, somehow. That won't last. "I hope that was okay? I know you said you're out, but I guess he didn't know, so -."

Tommy squeezes the hand tucked into his. "That's fine, really. He'd have figured it out on his own, eventually. It's not like I hide it."

(Anymore.)

It's - that's a huge fucking leap from "I'm an ally" actually, less than a week out from shifting his eyes around the room and spouting nervous nonsense about picking up chicks. His sister, his best friend - Christ, he's really going for the speed run on accepting his sexuality.

The wedding, Tommy had discovered, down to the dregs of a truly middling cup of coffee he kept sipping at to try to hide his own nerves, was another three weeks away, but a month of lead time between his first kiss with a man and introducing that man to all of his family and friends as a date - yeah. Tommy wouldn't trust it for a minute if he hadn't spent weeks picking Christopher's brain for hints as to exactly what was up with Evan Buckley, if he hadn't already heard from Eddie exactly how quickly they'd jumped into their friendship.

Tommy's whirlwind thoughts stutter to a halt. "Wait. Did you know?"

Evan blushes, again, ripening the apples of his cheeks. "It's - okay so I didn't know, know, obviously, but - I mean - you were flirting pretty hard."

Tommy laughs. "Evan."

"You were!" He sounds a little incensed, like he's actually offended Tommy thinks he can't clock a flirt, and Tommy can't quite resist the urge to squeeze at his hand, again. "You aren't exactly the first guy who's ever flirted with me, Mr. Kinard." He says it prim and proper, chin raised, lips pursing after the pause, and Tommy is - shit, he's smitten. He also has no fucking clue how Evan never pieced together how hard he was flirting back. God, even Mr. Kinard has his stomach fluttering, a little.

"Just the first one who's ever reached out and slapped you in the face with it."

Evan's grin goes blindingly bright, eyes still a little squinted under the sunlight making the shots of red in his hair a little more obvious. "It was a very gentle slap. You could - you could slap a little harder, next time."

Jesus.

He's not even a hundred percent sure what the implication is there, but he can at least roll with the tamer one. He tugs, a bit, on their intertwined hands, just hard enough to knock their shoulders together again. He's a solid weight against Tommy's side, the bulk of him a little mind numbingly hot, in his bright white shirt and the dark wash jeans Tommy'd taken his time checking out when Evan went to toss their coffee cups. "You still owe me a beer, Buckley," he tells him, and Evan tilts his head up to check the angle of the sun, doesn't even bother to point out that Tommy'd barely let the check sit on the table long enough for Evan to pull out his wallet.

"I mean, it's a little early."

"Raincheck, again?"

Neither one of them has anywhere to be for the rest of the day. They'd both made that clear, when the coffee started to get low but the conversation didn't wind down, and Tommy - Christ, Tommy is more than willing to let himself get swept up in this, for the next few hours, for the day maybe, even. The weather is comfortable, and the company is adorable, and in response to Tommy releasing him from the pressure of being out too soon he'd sped off to his sister and his best friend for - for answers, most likely, for advice on how to turn things around. My sister says... he'd started, before Tommy'd had enough of wondering.

"Let's see where the day takes us," Evan says, another squeeze to Tommy's hand, and Tommy takes the weight when Evan checks his shoulder back.

-----

The day takes them twelve blocks up the road, Tommy pressed to his own kitchen counter, lips swollen and flushed when he finally parts for breath, Evan Buckley's dick pressed against his thigh as he whines at the loss. Tommy's hands are bunched up under the fabric of Evan's shirt, the wide expanse of skin beneath them sun-warm and smooth, and when Evan blinks back at him and digs his nose into Tommy's cheek, Tommy has the wild thought that he could do this forever - just this, rocking together in the shifting late afternoon light coming in from the gauzy white curtains over his kitchen sink.

They'd made the journey here under the pretense of grabbing a few waters, maybe making some late lunch, figuring it out from there, but when Tommy had bent over the low shelf in his fridge Evan had cut the distance between them, caged Tommy in and made good on his threat to show Tommy he could slap back, if he wanted.

They've been lazily making out for - long enough that the water bottles he'd scrambled to set aside are now sweating condensation. He'd lost his concept of time somewhere around the point Evan had grabbed for the back of his thigh and rocked against it for the first time.

"We should figure out something for dinner," Tommy announces, lips still close enough to Evan's still parted ones that he's speaking mostly into his mouth.

"Uh-huh."

"Evan," he intones, just a hint of admonishment, and Evan blinks, and gathers himself. He's - he's still got his thigh wedged between Tommy's, can clearly feel exactly how much they'd both gotten themselves worked up. Tommy's a little obsessed with exactly how unperturbed by this Evan is. Thirty some years without realizing he was attracted to men and now he's spent a good few minutes actually nipping at the cleft of Tommy's chin, purposely shifting his face against Tommy's stubble-roughened cheeks while he sucked at Tommy's earlobe.

"Somewhere with beer," Evan provides, decisive, and Tommy can feel exactly how wide his smile goes.

"I'm actually in the mood for wine, tonight," Tommy shoots back, and the moment shifts, mood slowing as Evan pulls back - just a little, just enough for each of them to take stock of exactly how disheveled they both are.

Evan's mouth is pink pink pink, his own stubble not quite enough to hide the beard-burn that had spread down his neck when Tommy found himself momentarily fascinated by the dip of his collarbone, the rush of his pulse when Tommy mouthed at the tendon of his neck. Besides the awkward bunching at the back, his shirt is all out of whack, one side of his collar flipped up, the neck shifted to one side, and Tommy vaguely remembers sliding his hand in there, at one point, swallowing the heavy groan that had elicited. His cheeks are ruddy, eyes bright and still a little wild. Tommy can't be any better.

"There - there is actually a little wine bar around here I've been meaning to try," Evan says, clearly trying to refocus, shifting his weight around in a familiar way that Tommy finds achingly endearing.

Tommy thumbs at Evan's bottom lip just to watch the way he has to fight not to be drawn back in.

"Let me change," Tommy says, hands shifting to Evan's hips to press him back, and away.

"You - you're fine. Like this."

Tommy's smile is soft, and he reaches out to smooth down Evan's collar. Evan's eyes seem to be stuck on the flash of skin behind the open button of his Henley, the knowledge of which he is absolutely going to use to his advantage.

"This isn't exactly date attire," Tommy impresses upon him, and Evan's brow goes adorably crinkly.

"Tommy, we've been on a date the entire day."

Tommy's mouth does something uncontrollable, the smile breaking containment on one side, then the other, and the hand still tucked next to Evan's collar shifts across his chest. Beneath his ribcage, Tommy's heart does something he absolutely refuses to acknowledge until he's had a moment alone to his thoughts.

"I didn't wear this to impress you," he admits, although he gets the feeling Evan absolutely had dressed to impress. "Sorta thought I was getting a very polite let down, this morning."

"So, this is, what, your sulking attire?"

"Certain I was gonna sulk, hmm?"

"I mean, I'd have been a little insulted if you didn't at least mope, a bit. Maybe a little wallowing."

"You caught me. This is my brooding sweatshirt."

It's absolutely stupid, how much it makes his heart race to see the grin blooming across his face. Tommy needs a moment.

He brushes at Evan's shoulder as he passes him, fighting the urge to press his lips to his cheek.

"I'll be right back. Bathroom's down the hall on the left, if you need it."

In his room, with the door shut behind him, Tommy takes a long, long moment to stare at his bed, silently trying to convince himself not to throw his whole body dramatically across it like some regency era heroine. The bathroom is right next to his room, and Tommy can hear Evan drifting down the hall towards it, at a pace that suggests he's taking the time to take in the artwork and picture frames hung on the walls. It makes something ache, in his chest, in his throat, and Tommy shakes his head on the way to his closet, getting tangled in his sweatshirt when he tries to tug both it and the Henley up over his head at the same time.

He's forgotten how clothes work. Maybe. Probably.

In his walk in, once he's figured out how to get everything off without blinding himself or taking out a light, he takes a moment to stare at himself in the mirror hung by the door. His hair is a fucking disaster. His face is - embarrassingly smiley, Jesus Christ.

There's a mouth shaped bruise forming at the bolt of his jaw, and Tommy should absolutely be embarrassed about that - he's a forty year old man who just spent a good hour necking in his kitchen.

Fingers trace the edges of it and he can't muster up anything less mortifying than smugness.

He manages to get his hair in some semblance of order - doesn't bother with product, for absolutely no reason at all (certainly not to tempt Evan into running his fingers through it some more) - and finds a collared shirt in a light, hazy blue that he knows brings out the slashes of green in his eyes.

He leaves the top three buttons undone and calls it good.

Evan's back in the kitchen by the time he makes it out of his room, snooping in Tommy's fridge, and he doesn't even have the grace to look apologetic about it when Tommy taps his fingers against the doorframe.

The fridge closes on its own, Evan's mouth dropped to an intriguing O shape.

"Uh - oh," Evan says, mouth actually snapping shut as he takes Tommy in, eyes dipping up, down, catching on the skin below his collarbone. He swallows. Fuck. "This - uh. Okay. Color me impressed."

"Yeah?"

"You know you look good," Evan whines.

He's done something to fix his own, hair, too. Tommy leans in the doorway, arms crossed, one foot tucked over the other, and actually takes the time to stare back. Tommy's hands had worn through the product - there's a little bit of a curl, in his hair, that Tommy would give a lot of his earthly possessions to see in its natural state. There's still some color in his cheeks, and it's spreading as Tommy checks him out. He's fixed the neck of his shirt, and against the stark white of it, his tattoos are drawing Tommy's eye. He wonders how many other ones he might uncover, one day. "You too," Tommy finally says, when Evan looks like he might vibrate right out of his skin at the attention. Evan beams, and spins the keys in his hand around on one finger.

"You ready?"

Absolutely fucking not, Tommy thinks to himself, but he nods, and lets Evan lead the way back out his front door.

[talktonytome]

the shape of you

Tommy's always liked working with his hands. He loves learning and figuring things out through touch. He's memorized the feel and curve of the cyclic under his steady hand, when he flies. He knows the exact length of the throttle and the size of every button on the control panel.

He relishes in the labor of taking apart an engine, thumbing over the valves, the spark plug, running his fingers over the flat smooth of the pistons, and feeling over the ridges of the timing chain.

The grease and callouses on his hands are marks left on him by whatever engine or part he works on, signs of hard work, of a job well-done. He's just as methodical and meticulous cleaning the dirt and grease off with a good towel. He wipes across his palms and the backs of his hands, in between the valleys of each finger, gets in the grooves of his knuckles and around his nails beds. What he doesn't get with the towel, he scrubs with a brush before his shower.

But he's gotta say, his favorite puzzle to figure out is one Evan Buckley. He's become a faithful acolyte of his body. He knows that if he runs a finger down his spine, it elicits the sweetest little shiver. On slow mornings, when there's no rush and they get to indulge in bed, Tommy takes his time mapping every little knob of his spine, charts the width and location in his mind.

He lightly runs his finger along the curve of his ribs, feeling the notch and counting every single one. He knows that if he pokes between six and seven, Evan will squirm at the sensation, because his baby is ticklish in certain spots.

He's circled around and climbed the domes of his knees with reverent fingers, paying special attention to his injured leg. On days that it pains him, he rubs ointment on it lovingly.

He thumbs down the arch of each foot, presses a kiss square in the middle every time he sets Evan's leg on his shoulder, so he can fuck deeper into him.

Sometimes, he'll slot his thumb into the dimple of Evan's smile, made deeper when he beams or laughs. He loves feeling the heat of his blush beneath his finger tips. He's learned the shape of his plush lips, and has memorized the different curve of every pout.

He knows the exact depth of the dip in Evan's shoulder, where his deltoid and neck muscles meet, the addicting hollow of his throat he can't help but kiss and suck and bite.

He's committed to memory the velvety feel and weight of Evan's cock in his hands and in his mouth, and inside him. If he presses down on the space between the head and the shaft, it makes his breath hitch and stutter, and he makes these breathy little sounds that have a direct line to Tommy's cock. If he thumbs the slit, he's rewarded with the arch of Evan's back, the spurt of more pre-cum that makes each stroke all the more slippery and hot and wet.

Evan always makes a mess, a beautiful, wonderful mess. One Tommy absolutely loves cleaning up, with his hands, with his mouth and tongue, loves the marks Evan leaves on him, too-- signs of a job well-done.

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 3: Missing Moments

a little something for @bucktommypositivityweek 💜 tommy POV after their first date + buck calling about meeting for coffee

**

Tommy's not moping. He doesn't mope. Especially not over a relationship that wasn't even a relationship yet. It was one date. Arguably less. Half a date with a guy he's hung out with—if he's counting very generously—a grand total of four times.

A blip, as far as relationships go. He has more history with that guy he used to trade semi-frequent blowjobs with who's saved in his phone as Nose Ring.

...Come to think of it, he should delete that guy's number. They haven't spoken in years. He's pretty sure the last text in their message history is—yup. Dick pic. From Nose Ring. They'd gone six months without contact, then he sent a picture of his penis and nothing else. Tommy couldn't find it in himself to be even vaguely interested, and there's been no communication since.

And that's really that's the problem, isn't it. His dating history is riddled with guys like that. Dead-end hookups and bad dates with people he didn't click with no matter how much he tried to force it. And people who just...didn't care enough. Then Evan...

Alright, he's moping a little bit. He's only human.

He's been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Pretty much since he got home. It's not late enough that he's tired, really, but he's also exhausted. In a soul-deep sort of way.

It was nice. He had a nice time, sitting across from Evan, letting him stutter his way through all the usual first date talking points like he was reading them off a list in his head. It was cute, how seriously he took it, how he'd pause and smile and get that soft look in his eye when he was listening to Tommy talk.

It would have been so easy to be greedy and keep spending time basking in that warmth he seems to radiate. Evan was clearly willing to push himself way past his comfort zone, but. Tommy wasn't. Isn't. His stomach twists just thinking about it.

But maybe he's being selfish either way. He wants more than Evan can give him, so he's pulling away completely, retreating before he can get too deep into planning a future Evan isn't ready for.

He sighs, feeling around next to his pillow until his fingers close around his phone.

Maybe Evan will reach out again. Some day. Eventually. Once he's more at ease with himself. Or maybe Tommy already ruined what could have been before it even started. Probably safer to just assume the latter. Restrict himself to hoping they can still be friends after this.

He scrolls aimlessly through his contacts. There's quite a few numbers in there that he should delete. Names he's not sure he recognizes anymore. Ones he wishes he could forget.

For some godforsaken reason he still has Sam Westbrook in here. Just reading the name puts a pit in his stomach. He doesn't remember everything about the three horrible months they spent together, it's mostly just flashes. The taste of too much beer on his tongue, saturated and clumsy in his mouth. A sharp smile and a sharper suit, always pressed and starched and better-than-you.

Tommy was newly out and far too hard on himself about how difficult it was. Guys like Sam seemed to sniff that out, made his personal shame all about them. It didn't always work, but Sam was particularly good at it. He always left Tommy feeling gutted and guilty and far too willing to do whatever it took to make it up to him the next time they saw each other. It's not a relationship he likes to think about.

But it's a reminder that he did the right thing tonight.

And...

Maybe he'll call Evan. Not yet, not right away. Tommy needs time to square away his own messy feelings, but maybe in a couple weeks. Just to let Even know he's. Around. If he needs someone to talk to about all this.

They can be friends. He'll make it work.

He deletes Sam's number, and tosses his phone aside.

Two weeks.

—

It's only two days later when his phone rings, Evan Buckley written across his screen in big white letters. He stares at it through five long buzzes while his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

This...wasn't the plan. And to make matters worse, he's at work. He catches one of his coworkers side-eyeing him curiously, and that pretty much guarantees he'll have at least three people ask him what was up with the phone call before his shift it over.

Well. He should at least give them something to gossip about. A guy called me and I watched it go to voicemail isn't much of a story.

He swipes to answer, before he can make himself any more nervous.

"Hey."

"Tommy! Hey!" Evan's voice crackles a little through the phone with a surprised intake of breath, like he wasn't the one who called in the first place. The corner of Tommy's mouth twitches. "H-how's it going?"

Tommy spent four hours yesterday taking apart his neighbours' lawn mower because he'd convinced the man it was making a weird noise and he could fix it. There was nothing wrong with it, but he checked every inch anyways, and put it back together well-oiled and exactly as pristine as it was before. That morning he'd gone grocery shopping with a paper list and his phone at home so he'd stop obsessively combing through all his files trying to find things to delete.

So, he's having a very normal week, clearly.

"Good," he says instead of explaining any of that. "I'm actually at work right now, so—"

"Oh crap, I forgot you were working today, sorry. I—I can call back later if you're busy."

"No, it's okay. Slow day so far." He pauses. "One might even say qui—"

"Ah, don't jinx it!"

Tommy snickers. Apparently Eddie wasn't exaggerating. He's known a lot of superstitious people, but most of them didn't take it this seriously. Evan sounded less panicked about flying directly into an actual hurricane. "Right, the dreaded Q-Word."

"Did you hear about the power lines that fell on our engine?!"

"Yes." He'd seen the pictures too. Pretty much everyone had, the 133 were sending them around all day after they took that call.

"And then some guy stole it later that same day, y'know. It was a terrible shift."

He'd heard about that too, but not that it was the same station. Damn. "Alright, alright. No tempting fate."

"Well. Good. Too many things can go wrong with helicopters."

Tommy squints up at the rafters, feeling unbearably fond. Like he's full of something warm and syrupy and too big for his chest, like he's spilling sunlight between his ribs.

He should ask why Evan called. Polite check-in after their date ended so abruptly? Another storm he needs Tommy to fly into? Metaphorical or otherwise. Hopefully it won't involve stealing anything else. They got way too lucky the first time for Tommy to trust it working out again, and he kind of likes his job.

He slips his free hand into his pocket. "How are you doing, Evan?"

"Oh." He lets out a soft exhale that comes through as quiet static. "I, uh. Good, actually. B-better, um. Listen, are you free tomorrow?"

Tommy stops breathing, lungs seizing for a long moment before he very carefully reminds himself how to use them. "Yes."

"I wanted to. Talk. To you. Um. In person, preferably."

This really wasn't the plan.

But it's fine. It's more than fine. It's...

He'll just have to deal with wanting to kiss the living daylights out of someone who's off-limits, it's not like he's never had to do that before. If Evan needs something from him he's not about to say no, he just didn't expect it to happen so soon, if it happened at all.

"I, uh, would've just popped by your house unannounced, but I thought this might be more polite," he continues, a teasing lilt in his voice. Tommy purses his lips against the smile threatening to overtake his face. "Also, I don't know where you live."

"You could've asked Eddie."

"Oh, so you're saying I should have ambushed you then?"

"No, that's very rude. Who does that."

Evan's delighted laugh is bright and infectious, and has him grinning at his feet, sunlight spreading down to the tips of his fingers.

"So, coffee? Tomorrow?"

"Alright."

"Cool. Awesome. I'll text you the details?"

"Cool," he echoes, purposefully deadpan. "Awesome."

He can hear the smile in Evan's voice when he pretends to be offended by the mocking. It's there all through their goodbye too, and Tommy finds himself coiled up around his anticipation at the thought of seeing that smile again.

It's going to be a long 18 hours. But it's worth the wait.