#i love tommy feeling soft and small with buck

[chimneyz]

And The Sky Cried

for the @bucktommyfluffebruary day thirteen: love declarations rated g | words: 1460 on ao3

Rain poured down from the grey blue sky, the sound of the pitter patter of the rain hitting the cafe windows filled Buck’s ears. The smell of coffee and tea filled his nose, his fingers fiddled with the pull string of his hoodie. A nervous itch radiated through Buck’s skin, he'd been feeling this nervous for days. He thinks Tommy has noticed, he isn’t sure though. Lately, Buck has been struggling to find the words he needs, stammering and fumbling his words. He shouldn’t feel this nervous, yet he was. The last time Buck took the next step in their relationship, Tommy got scared off and ran. Buck still regretted to this day he didn’t chase after him. Buck knows that they are in a good place with Tommy, that they talked things through. Why work on their issues alone when they can do it together? 

There were still things that needed to be fixed, old wounds that needed to heal, but they were still in a good place. 

Buck inched forward in the line, he moved on from fidgeting with his hoodie to picking the skin around his nails. His eyes examined the board above, listing every tea and coffee they had to sell at this small cafe. Buck was with Tommy for six months, a three month break, and now together again for over almost three months. Buck had officially known Tommy for almost one year, and yet, and yet he still could not figure out Tommy’s coffee order. He has tried almost every single coffee order at the cafe, the cafe Tommy introduced to Buck, the cafe Tommy has been going to for years. Buck was insistent that he would figure out Tommy’s order on his own. Buck knew Tommy found it endearing, Tommy’s slight giggle, his crinkly smile as he shook his head, Tommy still drank every drink, every drop. Today was the day Buck was going to get Tommy’s coffee order right.

Buck inched forward to the counter, still unsure what he was going to order.

“What can I get for you today sir?” The barista smiled at Buck, their painted nails tapping on the counter. 

“Um,” Buck’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at the board in front of him, his head tilted. What if he was going about this the wrong way? 

Buck picked at the skin around his nails as he waited for his order, from where he stood he could see Tommy sitting, watching the rain pour against the window. The warm ambiance lighting of the cafe hit Tommy’s grey’s perfectly, making his hair sparkle. Buck was going to make sure as soon as they got home he was going to count every single grey hair on Tommy’s body and kiss him for every single one.

“Sir,” the barista snapped Buck out of his haze “Your order, sir.” 

The barista slid the paper cups towards him, Buck only just noticed the sharpie marker placed in the pocket of the barista’s apron.

“H-Hey, can I borrow that real quick?” Buck sheepishly asked, pointing at the marker. 

His hands grew clammy as he walked towards the small table, Tommy smiled once he saw Buck was finally coming back, his crinkly smile, the smile that made Buck’s heart melt just a little bit every single time. Nervously, Buck slid into his chair sliding the paper cup towards Tommy, he was trying his damndest to keep his cool, not to spiral. 

“Evan, are you ok?” Tommy tilted his head. 

Of course, he saw Buck was on edge, Buck huffed out a smile nodding, maybe nodding a little too much. “Y-Yeah yeah, I’m fine.” 

Tommy’s stormy blue eyes searched Buck’s face, not removing themselves from him, Tommy took a sip of his drink. He didn’t seem to notice the writing on the cup, Buck could feel his heart climbing up his throat. 

“I-I think I got it right this time,” Buck huffed out an awkward laugh, “About time right?” 

As the spiced hot liquid coated Tommy’s tongue, his eyes blinked in surprise pulling his sight away from Buck. A deep hum radiated out of his throat. A soft smitten smile formed on Tommy’s face. 

“Chai latte,” Tommy hummed, “Is there a dash of cinnamon?”

“Y-You always add extra cinnamon to your french toast,” Buck smiled. Buck shifted in his seat, “So. Did I get it right?”

Tommy hummed with a small nod, “Yes Evan, it on-”

Tommy’s eyes went down to the writing on the paper cup, the words ‘I love you’ scribbled on.  Tommy’s eyes went back and forth from the cup to Buck’s eyes, his face stone cold, frozen in place. 

Shit, shit, shit. Buck knew he was taking a big step. He did it again, jumping in head first without even thinking. Fuck, will Tommy run away again? They made it to such a good place, and he fucked it up again. Was he destined to fuck it up? Every single time? It seemed all Buck could do was fuck it up. Why isn’t Tommy saying anything? He knew he should have waited, it was too early. Why was Tommy looking at him like that? Sweat started to seep through his button up, the music was becoming too loud, the smell of the coffee too pungent, the pounding of the rain becoming louder and louder. Buck needed to get out of there.

Buck grabbed his jacket, quickly getting up from his seat, struggling to shove his arm in the sleeve, “I gotta go,” Buck murmured.

"No Evan, wait!”

Before Tommy could get up from his seat Buck was already out the door, the harsh rain beating down on him. His curls and clothing getting soaked from the crying skies above. It almost was fitting, the rain. Mother Nature was giving Buck a warning on what kind of day it was going to be, and of course, he ignored all the signs. His feet pounded on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into his pockets. Buck halted, breathing heavily, tears starting to sting his eyes. 

“Evan!”

Buck didn’t turn around, he could feel Tommy’s presence getting closer and closer. 

“Evan,” Tommy said sweetly, “Will you please look at me?”

Buck slowly turned, his eyes meeting those stormy blues, that cleft, that cupid's bow. Tommy gently cupped Buck’s face guiding him to his lips. A soft moan escaped as Buck kissed Tommy back, he wasn’t sure who it was that moaned. The rain paired down on them, chilling their bodies to the bone, but it didn’t matter, Tommy’s warmth was enough. 

Tommy pulled away with a small fond smile, “I love you too Evan.”

Buck blinked in surprise, “Y-You do?”

Tommy nodded shit gently holding onto Buck’s cheeks. 

“B-but yo-you hesitated…”

“Only because I never expected anyone else to ever say that to me, sweetheart.” 

Buck’s heart clenched tightly in his chest, “Tommy, I-I never loved anyone else like you. My heart aches and burns, it’s almost painful, but that is what love is right? Something that is almost unbearable but you hold on to it tightly because it is the piece you have been missing all your life and you don’t want to lose it, so you hold on to it even if it burns. But it burns brightly for you Tommy.” 

“I must admit I have been in love with you for a long time Evan. Do you remember when we went on that hike, the one at Franklin Canyon? You picked a flower and placed it in that guidebook you bought with you. You said you wanted to keep something from that day, and every day you were with me. When you admitted to collecting momentums for every date we went on. That day. That day Evan was when I knew I was in love with you.” 

Buck blinked at him, slowly processing Tommy’s words, “But… that was almost four months before we broke up.” 

“I know.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“The same reason why it took you this long to say it to me,” Tommy sighed, “I was scared.” 

“We should work on that. Together.”

Tommy hummed in agreement, “We should, but maybe not in the rain. We’ll catch a cold.”

“Right, right,” Buck smiled. “Maybe we should grab our drinks before we head to your truck, you know, to keep us warm.”

“Agreed,” Tommy huffed out a small laugh.

As they walked hand in hand back to the cafe, that is when it hit Buck, “You do realize we just had one of those rom com moments. That moment where the two protagonists confess their love for one another.”

“Yeah,” Tommy grinned, “The rain added a bit to it don't you think?”

Buck giggled, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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@mmso-notlikethat, @buckhastwohands, @romanbridgers, @rosyhoneydew, @here-there-be-fics

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[bucksaiga]

“C’mon.” Buck said randomly, patting his lower back.

“What?”

“I-I wanna give you a piggy back ride.”

Tommy groaned. “Evan. I can walk just fine.”

Buck patted his back again. “Come on. Let’s go.” He said more adamantly, refusing to take no for an answer.

Tommy reluctantly climbed on Buck’s back , wrapping his strong thighs around Buck’s hips, and draped his arms over him.

Buck hoisted Tommy up slightly and grasped his thighs. “Alright, there we go.”

Tommy was awkwardly silent as Buck took him around the park. Buck could feel Tommy’s heart pounding against his back and sensed his unease and tension.

“Nobody’s looking at us, Tommy.” Buck said, causing him to laugh.

“Very cute, Evan. I remember that being my line.”

“Well, now it’s mine.” Buck decided as they walked along a bridge over a pond, spotting some ducks in the water. “I know you’re not used to this—“

"You're right. I'm not." Tommy admitted. "The men I date don't usually offer me piggy back rides."

“There’s a first time for everything.” Buck said with a slight chuckle.

They continued their stroll through the park enjoying the slight breeze and calm ambiance. Buck told Tommy some fun facts about the trees, flowers growing near the pond, why ducks shouldn’t eat bread and even informed Tommy that the inventor of frisbees came up with the idea as a teenager, throwing popcorn tin lids with his girlfriend.

“It’s a really beautiful day, isn’t it?” Buck sighed wistfully, admiring the scenery.

“Mhm.” Tommy hummed as he buried his reddened face in Buck’s shoulder.

This was the safest he’d ever felt in a relationship—perhaps even his whole life.

He felt so secure. So happy. So…small. Which would probably sound silly if said aloud. But, nonetheless. Tommy did feel small, being held so securely with his feet dangling above the ground—yeah. How could he not love this?

“If you hide your face, you’ll miss the sunset.” Buck said softly, prompting Tommy to lift his head.

“Are you sure you’re not tired?”

“I had 2 cups of coffee this morning. I’m pretty wide awake.”

“No.” Tommy snorted. “I meant—are you tired of carrying me?”

“Oh!” Buck laughed. “No. It’s fine.”

A brief silence fell upon them as they watched the fiery red sun setting.

“Did you know the sun starts to lose its color as it sets? As it drops into the horizon, it loses its blue, then green and yellow, then orange wavelength hues. And all that’s left is red.”

“That’s why it looks like a fireball when the sunsets.”

“Yep. It’s probably the only fire we never want to put out.” Buck said with a smirk.

“I would never want to put out our fire either.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you know.”

“Yes I-I do know. And I love you too.”

“So, can I give you a piggy back ride home?”

Buck shook his head. “I’m not putting you down.”

“I could just jump off your back.”

“If you try it, you’ll take me down with you, because I’m not letting you go.”

“Evan…” Tommy warned, pulling Buck down into the grass with him. The two tumbled around for a few moments, then lied in the grass, laughing together until the sky turned dark and everyone around them had already gone home.

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[whollyjoly]

i want the whole SEASON of bucktommy

i want buck being wooed - flowers and being taken out and a little protective hand on the small of his back

i want to hear all the soft ways tommy can say evan and the look on buck's face when he does

i want to see them at tommy's karaoke trivia place because holy shit buck would love it (and didnt oliver say that we're getting buck singing this season cause uhhhhh)

i love that this is such a fling, such a happy thing for buck - he is finally feeling that puzzle piece click into place and it is freeing

and i cant wait to see all the small ways we see that play out!!!

let buck be happy challenge 2k24!!!!

[teenmaximoff]

They get into the car and Buck immediately takes off his tie and tosses it to the back seat. He’s never been much of a suit guy. But it was a funeral, he had to dress up. And make Tommy dress up too. Same as him, Tommy is also not a suit guy. It’s hard to get those beefy arms into a tailored jacket.

Tommy starts the engine and turns to Buck with the most affectionate glint in his eyes. He stares at him for a few moments, just taking in his view. “What?” Buck asks, smirking. “Something on my face?”

Tommy rolls his eyes and starts driving. “You’re cute is all.”

“I am?” His cheeks flush and he ducks his head the way he always does when Tommy compliments him. “Even covered in boils?”

“Of course.” It’s their thing – ‘Of course.’ Before every shift, one texts ‘Be safe’ and the other responds ‘Of course.’ Buck wants to get it tattooed on himself. It’s way too early for permanent commitments, but he can’t shake the idea. “You’re always cute, Baby.”

“This mean you’re going to kiss me now?” He says pursing his lips, even though Tommy’s eyes are on the road.

“Don’t continue this slander, Evan.” He replies, deadpan as ever. The dry charm is so hot, damn. “I did a hell of a lot more than kiss you this morning.” True. Actually, now that Buck is thinking about it – a rim job is just one long, pleasurable kiss.

“On the face, Kinard.” Buck can deal with the itchiness and sore arm. What he can’t handle is going over twenty-four hours without feeling Tommy’s lips on his own. “Don’t you miss kissing my birthmark every other minute?”

Tommy looks over just in time to see Buck pout and shine his best ‘puppy dog’ eyes at him. He laughs and looks back at the road. “Brat.” He knows exactly how to push his boyfriend’s buttons. “I’ll make up all the missed kisses… once you’re better.”

“And not gross?” Yeah okay, so maybe he is a bit of a brat.

“Did I not call you cute five minutes ago?”

Buck crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Not cute enough to kiss apparently.”

***

They eventually get stuck in Traffic. Buck switches from his dress shoes to sneakers, not being able to handle another moment of uncomfortable torture. “Better?” How Tommy is driving with his on, Buck has no idea.

“Much.” There’s a bit of comfortable silence between them, just NPR playing too soft to make out in the background. “I-I want to thank you, babe.” Buck admits shyly, patting Tommy’s (thick) thigh. “For doing this. I know you think I’m dumb for believing in all this curse crap.” He bites the inside of his cheek, feeling a bit small. “I appreciate you going along with it anyway… driving me out to fucking Temecula of all places and indulging my – uh – my weirdness.”

Tommy’s lips flatten and he tsks, shaking his head. “First of all, baby. I don’t think you’re dumb. And you shouldn’t think that either.” He quickly looks over to Buck, making sure he’s taking his words in. And with the way he looks at him, how could Buck not? “This curse means something to you, so of course I was going to help.” Buck feels his chest tighten. This man. “Even spoke to Billy for you.”

“Yeah?” His eyes light up. “What did you say?”

“That’s between me and the dead man.” He places his hand on top of Buck’s on his leg. “He knows not to mess with my boy.”

His cheeks flush and he squirms a little in his seat as a burst of heat travels through him. “Yeah, Daddy – you gonna fight a ghost for me?”

“I’ll fight a thousand ghosts for you, Evan.” Something about the way he says it, in his usual stoic tone, but laced with so much admiration – makes Buck honestly believe him. Not that he’ll literally fight a ghost - although with this Billy situation, who’s to say that couldn’t happen? – but that Tommy will fight for him, for them. He will go to bat for him; time and time again showing up whether Buck needs him or not. He’s all in.

Is this what it feels like to find the one? Buck’s not sure. It didn’t feel like this with Abby or Taylor. He loved them – in different ways. But nothing close to this. Buck can’t imagine a life where Tommy isn’t beside him, indulging him in his antics and looking at him like he’s the sun, moon, and all the stars in between. It’s too early to say it, he knows it is. But, fuck, he really is in love. “Tommy –“ He says, his boyfriend quickly glancing from the road to him. “You matter so much to me.”

“You matter to me too, baby.” Tommy smiles, his eyes crinkling beautifully and so kissable. Maybe they can just pull over for a quickie? “Evan, know this. I will happily put on a suit and drive to Temecula whenever you ask. As long you keep being you.”

Sounds a hell of a lot like Tommy wants to say ‘I love you’ too. Just not now. Not while he’s covered in boils and driving. Because the second he says it, he has to know Buck will say it back and then drown him in kisses. The moment will come soon enough.

***

Buck eventually falls asleep against the window. With all the traffic, it takes them an hour longer than it should have to get back to LA. Tommy shakes him a little to wake him up, leaving a line of drool on the glass. He blinks a few times at the setting sun shining in his eyes, not recognizing the building they’re outside of. Tommy comes around the truck to open Buck’s door for him. Such a gentleman. “Where are we?”

He sighs affectionately. “A dermatologist, Evan.”

[theotherbuckley]

Tommy’s dad dies on a Monday.

He checks his emails on a Wednesday. There’s an email from his aunt. It’s only a few sentences. She was always very succinct and to the point.

His dad is dead.

It was a heart attack.

Bastard didn’t even suffer. 

He stares at his laptop screen until the words start to blur together. For an hour, he just sits there, looking at his computer but not really seeing anything at all. His coffee is long since cold. He never even took a sip. 

His mind feels empty, like there’s this fog that’s settled inside, clouding over his thoughts. He’s stuck. His brain doesn’t know how to process this, and neither does his body.

So he stays frozen. Just staring.

He doesn’t notice the time until he feels large arms wrap around him from behind.

“Tommy?” Evan asks. It doesn’t sound like the first time he’s spoken.

“I—“ The words are stuck in his throat. 

Tommy turns around from his chair, blinking a few times, until he manages to say, “My dad died.”

“Are you okay?”

That’s all it takes for Tommy to break.

He opens his mouth, closes. Shakes his head. 

And he just—

Cries.

Full body-wracking sobs overcome his body as he slumps into Evan’s open arms. He shakes, tears streaming down his cheeks as he burrows his face into his boyfriend’s neck. He’s getting snot and tears all over Evan’s shirt but his boyfriend doesn’t complain, just squeezes him tighter as he continues to be overwhelmed by his emotions.

He doesn’t even know why he’s crying. He just can’t seem to stop. 

He cries and trembles in Evan’s arms until he’s run out of tears left to shed. Evan murmurs sweet nothings into his ear, holding him tight and never letting go. 

“I’ve got you. I'm here,” Evan whispers in his ear. 

He feels like he’s run a marathon by the time he’s calmed down enough to pull back from Evan. His hands shake as he wipes the tears from his eyes, Evan’s own warm hands coming to hold his. 

“I don’t— I don’t even know why I’m cry—crying,” Tommy hiccups. He’s sure he must look a mess, red-faced and covered in tears.

Evan gives me a soft look, a small comforting smile on his face as he presses a kiss to Tommy’s forehead.

“You lost your dad. You’re allowed to cry,” Evan says kindly.

Tommy just shakes his head. “But he wasn’t— he wasn’t good.” He has an awful, vile human who never gave two shits about him. Only cared about him being a man, enlisting, stepping up. He doesn't understand why his chest still aches like his loss matters. It doesn't. It doesn't.

Evan wraps his arms around Tommy. He’s practically sitting on him, but Tommy doesn’t mind. Not when it’s Evan.

“He— He was a big part of your life, Tommy,” Evan says, running his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “And now he’s not. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Tommy just nods, collapsing back into Evan, who rubs gentle circles on his back in comfort, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He lets his boyfriend soothe his pain with his touch. He wishes it didn't hurt in the first place. Still doesn't understand why it does. He hated that piece of shit.

He's glad he's dead.

He hiccups as another tear makes it's way down his cheek. Evan squeezes tighter.

“Is there a funeral?” Evan asks softly.

Tommy almost laughs. “There’s no one who cares enough to give him one. He doesn’t even deserve one.”

“But you do,” Evan says sincerely.

That gets Tommy to look up, eyebrows raised in question.

“You deserve to have the closure,” Evan continues. “It’s a lot better than trying to pretend you’re alright when you're not. Trust me.”

“You lost someone?” Tommy asks. Evan’s never talked about it, but maybe—

“No, no. I just know what it feels like to— to bottle your emotions up when it comes to the people who are supposed to love you.”

“I’ll speak to my aunt about a funeral,” Tommy says. Evan gives him a soft smile and a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling him close again, Tommy wasting no time to burrow into the corner of Buck’s neck, soaking up the comfort of his boyfriend.

“I love you,” he murmurs into his shoulder.

“I love you,” Evan repeats back. 

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

Curls | Bucktommy

In the bathroom, Buck is grimacing in the mirror, swiping his hands back and forth over his freshly cut hair. His eyebrows are furrowed with indecision; was this a good idea? He hears the front door open.

“Evan? Where are you?” Tommy voices rings out.

“Up here,” Buck calls back, he closes the bathroom door most of the way before Tommy gets up there.

“Oh there you are, what are you doing?” Tommy tries to push open the door but Buck stops him.

“I got a haircut from the place Hen suggested. You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?” Buck’s voice is hesitant.

“I promise I won’t laugh, did they botch it?” Tommy replies with total sincerity. This time Tommy can open the door and step into the bathroom. He examines Buck’s hair, very relieved it actually isn’t botched or a buzzcut.

Tommy takes it in and can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips. His boyfriend looks damn fine; curls in full force and not reigned in like how Buck usually styles it. The hairdresser added a fade making his neck look a lot longer.

“What? It’s awful. Your silence is making me nervous,” Buck rambles out.

Reaching a hand up, Tommy carefully pinches a wild curl and is surprised how soft it is, not at all crunchy with gel. His hand slides down to touch the equally soft hair on the back of his head. He absolutely loves it. “It’s definitely not awful. I always love your curls, babe. I like seeing your natural hair be free for once, and it’s so soft too. You look really really hot actually. It’s trendy for sure, but not in a bad way.”

Buck is still frowning at the mirror and rubs his fingers on the side of his face. “She even shaved off my sideburns,” he pouts and Tommy laughs.

“They will grow back in no time.” He wraps his arms around Buck’s waist and rests his chin on Buck's shoulder, watching him still fuss with his hair. “You know, it does make you look undeniably not straight, if that’s what you were going for.”

”Not really my intention, but I mean I’m not, so I guess it works?” Buck huffs drops his hands. “I’m itching for my gel, I feel so naked without it.”

“Don’t you dare. It’s just new, it’ll grow on you.” Tommy smiles, catching Buck's eyes in the mirror.

“Hey, what about your natural curls, huh? I don't see you easing up on the hair products.” Buck turns his head to look at Tommy.

“Shhh we're not talking about me right now,” Tommy replies and slides a hand up to cup Buck's jaw and kiss his lips. “I'm sure there's something in the pilot handbook about hair regulations,” he mumbles against Buck's mouth then promptly leaves him in the bathroom.

When Buck walks into work the next day he’s greeted with a wolf whistle from Hen, “Damn, Buck! I knew my girl would make you look fresh! You’re looking damn fine.” And he can’t help but smile at the praise. He gets compliments and light teasing from the rest of the crew. Maybe he can live with it.

One of their calls is at the famous gay night club, The Abbey, in Santa Monica. One of the cages that the dancers was in fell with the dancer trapped inside of it. Buck and Eddie had to break out the saw to get the dancer out, luckily he walked away with minor injuries.

They attracted a small crowd of the other dancers- all in skimpy speedo like underwear. Most of them had their eyes on Buck, giving him flirty compliments and asking if he’s ever been there. At first Buck was confused why he was getting most of the attention from these objectively hot men, especially when Eddie and his stache was right there.

Oh right, the hair, he thinks. The ‘undeniably not straight’ hair style he is sporting right now. He couldn’t help feeling a small blush creep into his cheeks.

His attention gets pulled back to one of the dancers, “Are you single? I know it’s really forward of me, but I thought I’d shoot my shot.” At least he’s polite about blatantly hitting on him.

“Oh wow I’m really flattered but yeah, I am taken,” Buck says proudly. He takes out his phone and shows the dancer and his friends his phone lock screen - a selfie of him and Tommy from one of their recent dates. Buck is laughing and Tommy is smirking at the camera with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Oh my God! I know that guy! That’s Mr. August from the 2019 LAFD calendar! I’ll never forget that year,” one of the dancers muses.

“Lucky bastard,” another one says to Buck, which makes his smile grow wider.

Tommy’s phone pings with a picture from Chimney, which there is no doubt this was his idea. It’s of Buck in the middle of a row of speedo clad club dancers. He doesn’t have his jacket on, so it’s just the fire T-shirt with red and yellow suspenders and the turn out pants. He’s holding an ax resting on his shoulder with the cockiest look he could muster; a sexy smirk on his lips with his left eyebrow cocked. The dancers around him are all looking at him, hamming it up for the picture acting like he’s the hottest thing on earth. Tommy couldn’t agree more and immediately makes it his phone background.

Yeah, the hair is growing on Buck.

[pedrospatch]

mornings like these

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: There’s a reason you’re always late to morning patrol. That reason’s name is Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, NO AGE SPECIFIED FOR READER. established relationship though it’s lightly implied it’s a fairly new relationship, hints of fluff, hints of smut, morning wood, very brief mentions of oral sex (female receiving) and fingering.

word count: < 1k

a/n: this is quite literally nothing. just a blurb i wrote in 20 ish or so minutes. it could have been a whole thing, but i am in the middle of editing a long wip update. i needed a break from it and this happened. hardly any plot, hardly any porn, what would you even call this? lol

You wake with a gentle start, your eyes fluttering open.

Sunlight filters in through the sheer white curtains.

Soft. Warm. Golden.

A strong arm tightens around you.

“Mm,” he mumbles from beside you. “S’nice.”

His voice is deeper than usual, thick with sleep.

You’re still getting used to it. To mornings like these.

Waking up next to him—with him.

Naked in his bed, wrapped in his sheets, in his arms.

You’re laying on your side, your back against his chest.

You feel him already, hard on curve of your ass.

Suddenly, all you can think about is the night before. 

Every deep, swollen kiss he gave you.

Every sweet, loving word he’d whispered to you. 

Every minute of every hour he’d spent worshiping your body like he was getting to know it for the first time all over again.

“It is nice,” you agree with him, exhaling a small sigh of content. Finding his large hand splayed over your lower belly, you lace your fingers together with his, the same long, thick fingers that stretched the tight walls of your aching cunt all night long. “After three days of pouring rain, this is very nice. It almost makes me look forward to going out on patrol.”

Chuckling softly, Joel nuzzles his nose into your bare shoulder, deeply inhaling the subtle, delicate scent of milk and honey soap. “Don’t mean the weather, sweet girl.”

You raise an eyebrow. “No?”

He gently nips at your flesh with his teeth. “Nope.”

“Then what do you mean?” you press, innocently.

As if you don’t already know.

“This.” There’s a brief pause. “Wakin’ up with you.”

Giggling, you tease, “You’ve gone soft for me, Miller.”

“And so what if I have?” He’s grinning, you can feel it.

Slowly, he begins to lower your intertwined hands and drags them further down your belly.

You know what he’s doing. The man is insatiable.

“Joel,” you utter his name breathlessly.

“What is it, honey?” he coos into the nape of your neck.

Oh yes, you know exactly what he’s doing.

Pulling your hand out of his, you roll onto your back and turn your head, your nose lightly bumping his. “Don’t start,” you warn him in the sternest voice you can possibly muster.

There’s a mischievous glimmer in his dark brown eyes.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, darlin’.”

His cock is rock hard, poking into your hip.

“We have patrol in an hou—”

Joel’s hand slips between your thighs and you’re cut off by the sound of your own loud gasp as he drags a finger languidly along your slick, warm folds.

He skims your jawline with his nose. “Now, what were you sayin’?”

“Oh my fuck,” you curse as he sinks his finger into your cunt, burying it to his knuckle. “Joel, Tommy will kill us if we’re late to our shift again—” You moan as he curls his finger upwards, your hips bucking up off of the bed and into his hand.

That’s where Joel Miller had you.

Right in the palm of his hand.

In every which way possible.

“I can stop,” he murmurs against your cheek, the scruff of his beard tickling your soft skin. “Just say the word, baby, and I’ll stop.”

You don’t tell him to stop.

Of course you don’t want him to stop.

You never, ever want him to stop.

Moments later, Joel’s head is between your thighs and he’s devouring your cunt like he’s having breakfast. His tongue swirls around your clit, his fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy, a mere warm up before you take his throbbing cock.

Hands tangled in his graying, dark brown curls, you forget all about getting to patrol on time.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[livelaughlou]

Rated Highly

This is a little ficlet for Cia @louvemeanyway, based on our 'thirsting over LFJ's ass' posts that we send each other lol. Here, though, it's Buck thirsting over Tommy. Well, actually, it's Buck appreciating Tommy.

bucktommy - words: 640 - rating: EXPLICIT - complete

cw: rimming

"You know," Tommy says casually as he stretches out on his stomach on the bed, chin propped on a pillow. He's dressed down to his boxer briefs like instructed, for...reasons, he supposes? Evan hasn't clued him in yet. "I'd say that this is the weirdest thing we've ever done, but it's really not."

Evan snorts a laugh as he settles himself on the backs of Tommy's thighs. "Why is it weird?"

Tommy turns his head to look at him, which is awkward on his neck, but he really has no idea what Evan's up to, and sometimes looking at him can get him to fold.

"I've just noticed something," Evan says and Tommy can feel a finger start at the nape of his neck and slowly, slowly, move down his spine. Evan doesn't prod at him, no, it's softer than that...it's appreciation.

"You have this amazing arch to your back. Makes your butt and your chest pop out. You look amazing."

Tommy huffs a laugh. "Baby, that's just good posture."

"Mmhmm, mmhmm, posture, sure," Evan teases. "All I know is I wanna worship you. So I'm gonna."

"You want to worship my back?" Tommy asks, just to make sure.

"Sure do," Evan says happily. "Again, why's that weird? I've focused on other parts of your body but I've realized I've been really remiss here."

"You're so strange," Tommy says and he knows his voice is dripping with affection.

Evan nips at a point in his spine and Tommy shivers. "I know. You love me anyway."

"I do love you," Tommy says, settling back onto the pillow which his cheek on his hands. He's so comfortable right now and he's content to let Evan do whatever the hell he wants.

"Hmm," is all Evan says. This feels really, really good. It's not a massage, it's just, like he thought before, appreciation. Evan is touching him all along his spine, along his vertebrae, moving lower, but slowly, in a way that Tommy can appreciate too.

When Evan reaches the waistband of his boxer briefs, he gently taps the small of Tommy's back and he gets the hint and lifts his hips.

"Why did you want me to wear them at all?" Tommy wonders as Evan slowly peels them down his legs.

"I like to take them off you," Evan says, like it should be obvious and Tommy thinks that maybe it should have been.

"That's fair," Tommy says. The truth is that he's not used to being treated the way that Evan treats him...with care like he's worth the effort. He wonders if that's something Evan's also caught onto. Honestly, at this point, it wouldn't surprise him.

Evan continues his journey down his back like he's starting over, before he kisses his way along Tommy's hips, making his way lower and-

He pauses and Tommy feels like his strings have been cut a little. That's not what he was expecting just now.

"Know what?" Evan says, voice soft and...reverent? "I fucking love your body. Like, I love you. But I also really, really love your body. We should go on vacation where I can just keep you naked 24/7."

Tommy laughs a little. "Sure. Would I get to return the favor?"

Evan's back to kissing the cheeks of Tommy's ass, but he pauses long enough to say, "You can do whatever you want."

Tommy rolls his head around the pillow he's resting on. "Evan. Would you-"

But it's like Evan's reading his mind when he gently spreads Tommy's cheeks apart.

"Fuck yes," Tommy breathes and he swears Evan's chuckling against him.

He'll get him back for that later. For now, he's not thinking about too much at all as he lets Evan continue to appreciate him.

[wikiangela]

"I'm going to ask Tommy to marry me." Buck says out of the blue one random evening, sitting in Eddie's living room, spread out in the armchair, sipping a beer, eyes on the TV, where Eddie and Christopher are playing a video game. His tone is even and firm, not even a hint of hesitation, it's not a huge revelation, or even a decision he's made just now. He's been thinking about it for weeks, maybe months. He doesn't know why he says it now, it just slips out - maybe he just needed to talk to his best friend about it.

"Really?" he hears a hint of surprise in Eddie's voice, but when he looks at his best friend, he's still focused on trying to beat his son at the game. He's smiling, sparing a glance at Buck. "That's great, Buck."

"Yeah?" he breathes out, feeling even more settled now. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but still felt kind of like he did when he came out to Eddie. Like he just wanted his best friend to approve, to support him - and he had no doubt he would.

"Of course," Eddie answers easily. "You guys are perfect together, and you love each other, and if you're sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Tommy, yeah, go for it. I'm happy for you," he adds, finally looking at Buck, a soft, genuine smile on his face. Christopher uses this moment to win the game, and Eddie groans at his triumphant yell. "Aw, not fair, Buck distracted me." Both Buck and Chis laugh, while Eddie pouts for a moment, before a smile breaks through anyway.

"Well, I won." Chris shrugs with a grin. "And I think it'd be so cool if you and Tommy get married," he adds, moving his attention to Buck.

"Yeah?" Buck repeats, his smile even wider now. Having two of his favorite people not only really love his partner - Buck's pretty sure Tommy's the first one to spend so much time with all of them together, and it feeling so right - but also approve of Buck wanting to tie him into their family forever.

"Duh, Tommy's the coolest." Chris rolls his eyes. "Better lock him down while you can," he jokes, and Buck gasps in surprise. He's such a teenager.

"Wow, rude. He's not going anywhere." he shakes his head with a laugh. That much he's sure of, for the first time in his life he's not scared of getting left, of his partner getting bored or fed up. He knows Tommy's gonna be right at his side no matter what.

"Not if you put a ring on it." Eddie joins his son's teasing. Laughing, Buck reaches over to the table to pick up a chip from a bowl and throw it at Eddie, who dodges it as it lands somewhere on the couch. "Hey!"

"But seriously, you don't think it's too soon?" Buck asks after a moment, a little bit of nerves seeping into his tone. He's more than sure about wanting to marry Tommy. He's just a little scared that he's gonna freak him out. They have talked about this, about their future, what they want out of this relationship, out of life, but they never really discussed any timelines, and Buck might be a little in his head about this. Hence why he needed to talk to someone about it, probably.

"Buck, you've been together for over a year. Some people get married after less." Eddie raises an eyebrow. "When you know, you know." He shrugs, and Buck releases a breath. Because he does know. He has known for a long time now.

"So you think he'll say yes?" Buck asks, but he knows the answer before Eddie has a chance to roll his eyes with fond exasperation. Tommy loves him. He loves Tommy so much his heart wants to burst out of his chest and live in Tommy's. Tommy is his forever, he's sure of it, and he knows that when he asks, and it's going to be very soon, he'll get a positive answer.

"He'll say yes." Eddie says with a small shake of his head and a wide smile. "Now, two important questions from me: who's gonna be your best man, and do you need help planning and picking out a ring?"

[hotshotsxyz]

7x10 coda. beware the spoilers

Three months pass, and Eddie still isn’t used to it. It’s too quiet at home, and too awful at work, and he still grabs two bowls every morning even though he’s the only one eating.

He thinks about quitting, again. Leaving behind Captain Asshole and following Christopher to Texas. He knows he can’t. He’d promised. Eddie clenches his fists and forces himself to finish buttoning his uniform.

He sends Christopher a text, the same one he sends every morning, then shuts his phone in his locker.

“Line up in five,” Gerrard bellows from the loft. “If you’re late, you’ll be scrubbing the rig with a toothbrush, no exceptions.”

Eddie stands mechanically and walks over to the bay.

Another day, another goddamn reason to bury himself in blankets and hide until the world ends.

Buck invites him over for dinner most nights, or offers to go home with him. Eddie says no more than he says yes, but Buck… Buck’s always known Eddie better than he knows himself. He doesn’t stop asking.

“C’mon Eddie, it’ll be fun—you, me and Tommy, we can come up with ways to drive Gerrard insane.”

Buck looks at him, soft and imploring, an expression Eddie rarely knows how to refuse. But despite everything that’s happened, Buck’s managed to carve out a small sliver of happiness, and Eddie doesn’t want to drag him down.

“You go ahead,” he says. “I’m picking up half a shift at  the 136 tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”

It’s true and it’s not. He is picking up the shift, but he doubts he’ll sleep.

He goes back to therapy, but he never knows what to say. It was all—everything was in his head, last time. It’s not, now. It’s all real, and it all hurts, and no amount of talking about it makes it hurt any less. He says as much to Frank.

“Then why are you here?” Frank asks.

Eddie looks away. “I don’t know,” he says.

That’s not quite true either.

Kim calls him, and Marisol doesn’t. She leaves voicemail after voicemail, apologizing for that night. Eddie can never bring himself to answer the phone. Eventually, he blocks her number.

He texts his own apology to Marisol, but it never goes through. It’s probably for the best—he doubts the message would’ve made either of them feel better.

Eddie needs—he doesn’t know. Before, he would’ve said time. Now though, he’s got all the time in the world, and he’s desperate to get rid of it.

Buck calls. Eddie can’t answer him, either. He lets it ring out, then listens to the voicemail.

“Hey Eds, it’s me. I uh—just wanted to check in. It’s been a couple days. Call me when you can.”

Eddie tells himself he will, but he has no idea when that’ll be.

Christopher doesn’t text him, but he does text Buck.

Eddie never asks what he says, and Buck usually doesn’t offer to tell him.

“Just—he’s okay, right?”

Buck smiles, a little bit sad, and leans into Eddie’s space. “He’s okay,” he says. “He misses you, even if he’s not ready to tell you that.”

Tears streak down Eddie’s face before he even realizes he’s crying. Buck wipes one away and pulls him against his chest.

“What if he never comes home,” Eddie whispers into the soft material of Buck’s sweater.

“He will,” Buck replies. “He will.”

Good morning, Eddie texts on the one hundred and second day since Christopher left. I love you, and I hope you have a good day.

He drops his phone on the table and tries not to hope for a response. A second later, though, it dings. Eddie’s heart leaps into his throat as he scrambles to open the message.

Morning, Dad.

[lcvebuckley]

kiss it better

written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

prompt : day 1 - non-sexual intimacy | word count : 2.3k | rated : G

it's officially fluffebruary month yay! i will be participating in this event for at least (hopefully) half the prompts so please look forward to that! other than fics i will also be doodling 👀

enjoy! ♡

Tommy's shift had been grueling. He was assigned to do ground ops which were never easy, and today was particularly rough—two building fires and two rescues that required crawling through tight, suffocating spaces. The scratches and cuts on his arms and face were simply part of the job, nothing new. He didn't mind though, it's not like he's not used to being hurt on the job. So he didn't really understand why he got scolded right when he arrived home.

Or in which Tommy got hurt on the job and Buck has a solution.

full version below or read on ao3

So he didn't really understand why he got scolded right when he arrived home.

------------------------------------------------------

Tommy's shift had been grueling. He was assigned to do ground ops which were never easy, and today was particularly rough—two building fires and two rescues that required crawling through tight, suffocating spaces. The scratches and cuts on his arms and face were simply part of the job, nothing new. He didn't mind though, it's not like he's not used to being hurt on the job.

It was late when Tommy left after his shift and he thought about getting takeout for dinner, assuming Evan had fallen asleep since he hasn't replied to his recent texts. But the truth was, Tommy didn’t have the energy to eat. All he wanted was to get home, fall into bed, and bury himself in Evan’s arms, where the scent of his boyfriend would lull him into instant comfort.

Home.

Tommy liked calling Evan’s place home, even if they weren’t officially living together yet. For weeks now, he’d been spending most nights at Evan’s loft, only going back to his own place when he needed fresh clothes or necessities.

There was something about Evan’s place that felt… grounding. While Tommy’s house was larger and objectively more practical, it couldn’t compete with the intimacy of the loft. Its smaller size made everything feel closer, warmer. Every surface held a piece of Evan—whether it was a photograph on the shelf, the clipboard he insisted on leaving on the coffee table, or simply the faint, familiar scent of him that lingered in every corner.

Tommy loved that. Loved the way he felt surrounded by Evan, no matter where he stood.

As he stepped into the loft, using the spare key he’d been given weeks ago, he braced himself for the familiar quiet of the space. Normally, Evan would be upstairs napping after his earlier shift ended, and Tommy would sneak in, careful not to wake him. It's different today it seems, since he was greeted by his boyfriend standing in the doorway, wearing an apron and smiling like he’d been waiting all day.

“Hey, babe,” Evan greeted, leaning in for a quick kiss. Tommy didn’t think twice, meeting his lips, grateful for even the smallest touches. When they pulled away, Evan's face fell almost abruptly after seeing what Tommy assumed was his face. The younger cupped Tommy’s face gently and slowly turned his head from side to side, examining the cuts and scratches that’s on his face.

“What happened to you?” Evan asked softly, his voice tight with worry. Tommy just huffed out a small laugh. “Nothing serious. Just some scratches. Part of the job,” he replied, his voice soft and assuring. Well at least he thought it was assuring, because it doesn't seem like Evan was happy with his answer.

“Just some scratches? Babe, there’s cuts covering literally half of your face.” Evan continued moving Tommy’s head around and mumbling something under his breath, as if he was counting every single mark on Tommy’s skin. His precision almost made Tommy laugh again, though he knew better than to interrupt.

Tommy couldn’t help but smirk. The comment was wildly exaggerated, but he decided not to argue. “Okay, there's only like four of them but still—they're not small, Tommy!” Evan huffed and even though he looked mad, Tommy could hear the gentleness and worry in his tone.

“It's fine, I already applied some ointment so it'll heal on its own, don't worry. They don't even hurt.” Tommy smiled, and as if on cue, he winced when the cut on the corner of his lip stung. The timing was so perfect it almost felt like the universe was siding with Evan.

The other was quick to assess the situation, his eyes wide with concern. “Oh god, are you okay?” he asked, his fingers hovering just over the cut as if afraid to make it worse.

Tommy cursed under his breath and let out a nervous laugh, though it only made the sting worse. “Shit, didn’t think it’d still hurt,” he admitted, embarrassed.

Evan seemed disappointed but not surprised by that reaction. It's not the first time Tommy tried downplaying an injury he had. “It’s not funny, Tommy,” Evan muttered, his thumb brushing gently over the corner of his lip. “You're clearly still in pain.”

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt when Evan did that. There was something about the way Evan cared for him that felt almost unreal. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, this kind of love—the kind that saw past his bravado and insisted on taking care of him anyway.

Tommy put his hand over Evan’s and leaned into his touch, his eyes slowly closing as he hummed in content. “And your touch is healing it already, I can feel it,” he mumbled before leaving a kiss on Evan’s palm.

Evan’s breath hitched, his smile softening as butterflies erupted in his stomach. The gesture was so simple, yet it made his chest feel heavy with emotion. It was moments like these, small and unspoken, that reminded him how deeply he loves Tommy.

Though, seeing Tommy kissing his palm suddenly gave him an idea. “Do you want me to kiss it better?” he asked, earning a look from Tommy. “What?”

“Don't you know that kisses can heal physical wounds?” Evan responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly wasn't buying whatever that nonsensical explanation was. “That's not a real thing,” he deadpanned.

The younger seemed surprised by that reply, pulling his hands away and crossing his arms. Oh, he’s not letting this go, is he? “Yes it is,” his tone was serious and maybe a little offended.

“Maddie used to kiss my scrapes all the time when we were kids,” Evan continued, remembering his childhood days when he would constantly get hurt doing reckless activities and while he did get a good scolding from his sister, she also took care of him and kissed his wounds better. “At first I was surprised too, but they do work!”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but there was a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite suppress. Evan was serious—adorably so—and the earnestness in his voice was enough to make Tommy falter. “Look, trust me on this.” With his hands back cradling his boyfriend's face, Evan is determined to show he was right.

Tommy was obviously not going to deny Evan’s kisses because that would be stupid of him, but he took this chance to tease him. “Are you sure you're not just looking for an excuse to kiss me?” He noticed the slight blush creeping up Evan’s cheeks and couldn't hide the mischievous grin on his face.

“Oh shut up, you’re just trying to distract me,” the younger protested, slapping Tommy’s chest playfully. The older chuckled, finally decided to play along. “Okay fine, I’m ready for your magical healing powers.” Evan immediately smiled, his whiny attitude disappearing within seconds.

Tommy couldn’t help but laugh as Evan leaned in, pressing a series of soft, lingering kisses to each of his cuts— his forehead, his jaw, his cheek and finally the corner of his lips.

The warmth in Evan’s touch and the softness of his lips left a trail of something far deeper than comfort. There was something so intimate with the way Evan’s focus was entirely on him, the intensity of his care leaving Tommy feeling a little dazed. Tommy closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the warmth of Evan’s affection. Each kiss felt like a promise, tender and full of unspoken care.

Before Evan could pull back completely, Tommy leaned forward and stole a quick kiss on the lips. The move caught Evan off guard, his cheeks immediately flushing a deep shade of red. “Hey!” he protested, voice pitched high as he buried himself against Tommy’s shoulder in an attempt to hide his flushed face.

Tommy’s laugh rumbled through his chest, low and affectionate, as he brought a hand up to run through Evan’s curls to calm him down. The way Evan melted into his touch was such a simple thing, yet it filled Tommy with a sense of peace he rarely allowed himself to feel.

Slowly, Evan pulled away and Tommy noticed that though slightly faded, the blush on his face remained. He narrowed his eyes, feigning indignation. “Look who’s trying to kiss who now,” he teased back.

Tommy raised his hands in defeat, the laughter still bubbling in his throat. “Not my fault you’re so irresistible,” he admitted, the words carrying a playful tone, though the sincerity in his gaze was impossible to miss.

Evan laughed at the response and wrapped his arms around Tommy’s neck, pulling him closer, while Tommy’s hands instinctively found their place on Evan’s waist. The younger grinned, his eyes alight with fondness. “So,” he asked, his voice soft but teasing, “did it work?”

Tommy tilted his head, pretending to consider the question. His eyes wandered for effect, a mischievous glint forming as he replied, “Well, I’m not sure one kiss did anything…” He trailed off, looking back at Evan with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Evan let out an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes as he stepped back. “You’re so annoying,” he muttered, though the way his lips grew into a smile shows how much he loved this moment as much as the other. With a playful shoulder shove, he added, “Let’s get you dinner first, then you can have all the kisses you want.”

Tommy’s smile softened as Evan reached for his hand, leading him toward the dining table. He was in awe when he saw the food his boyfriend had prepared, ranging from appetizers to desserts. “Is this why you haven't been replying to my texts?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at Evan in disbelief.

The younger nodded with a proud grin on his face. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tommy shook his head in disbelief, his heart squeezing in his chest. He didn’t think he deserved any of this—this effort, this love.

“You shouldn't have made dinner, you just got off your shift too,” he murmured, concern slipping into his tone. The thought of Evan overworking himself for his sake tugged at him.

“I know that,” Evan walked closer to Tommy, sliding his hands up his shoulders and rubbing his thumb in comforting circles on his collarbone. “But I figured that you might have a hard time today and what's the best thing to come home to after a rough shift if not home-cooked dinner, right?” his voice softened, eyes filled with warmth and care.

Tommy felt his defenses crumble. He’d always prided himself on being self-sufficient, the kind of person who didn’t need to rely on anyone. But standing there, wrapped in Evan’s quiet care, he realized how much he’d needed this without even knowing it. Before Evan, bad days felt endless—something to endure until they passed. Now, bad days had an antidote. Now, they ended with Evan.

Being cared for like this is something Tommy never even imagined he could ever experience. He didn't think he deserved any of this but in that moment, surrounded by warmth and love, Tommy couldn’t imagine a place he’d rather be.

“I love you so much,” Tommy whispered, his voice thick with emotion he didn’t bother hiding. He earned a bashful smile from Evan, mirroring the same expression he made the first time Tommy said those words. “I love you too,” Evan replied softly, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against Tommy’s lips, sealing the words between them.

After they were done with dinner, they cleaned up together with Tommy insisting he should do the dishes while Evan cleared the table. Eventually, they got ready for bed, though it took longer than necessary because Evan kept poking at Tommy’s sides and making dumb jokes while they brushed their teeth. Tommy rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

When they finally settled under the covers, Tommy laid with his bare back pressed against Evan’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around Tommy’s torso. Evan’s breath was warm against the back of his neck, steady and soothing. Tommy felt himself slipping toward sleep, lulled by the quiet comfort of their closeness.

But then Evan’s hands started gently roaming over his arms, fingers tracing absent patterns. He suddenly stilled, his touch lingering on a tender spot. “These are new,” Evan muttered, his voice low, adjusting his eyes to the darkness as his fingers ghosted over fresh scrapes Tommy had all but forgotten. The older hummed, “Yeah, it's from today,” he said nonchalantly.

Not even a second later, he felt soft, sweet lips peppered along his arms and he felt his heart skip a beat. He turned his head slightly, seeing Evan leaving kisses on the injured parts of his arm and locked eyes with him. “Why didn't you tell me? I told you I’d kiss all your pain away,” he heard Evan mumble, his lips brushing over his bare skin.

Tommy chuckled softly, turning around to face his boyfriend. He propped himself up on one elbow, his hand cradling the side of Evan’s face. “I didn’t want you to worry again,” he admitted, his thumb gently brushing over Evan’s cheekbone.

Evan furrowed his brows, clearly not satisfied with that answer. With a dramatic sigh, he buried his face against Tommy’s chest, his voice muffled as he muttered, “I can’t believe I missed it the first time.”

Tommy laughed quietly, his fingers threading through Evan’s hair. “But hey, let me tell you this,” Tommy looked down, hooking Evan’s chin and lifting his head up to face him. “Believe it or not, the stinging had miraculously faded,” he added. Evan grinned giddily, leaning further in and nuzzling his nose with the older.

“Told you it works,” he said proudly, and Tommy couldn’t resist closing the distance, capturing Evan’s lips in a kiss that was deeper, more lingering than before—a kiss filled with gratitude, love, and the quiet relief of knowing someone had his heart in the safest hands, the pain on the corner of his lips long gone.

When they finally pulled apart, Tommy rested his forehead against Evan’s, his voice a breathless whisper.

“You really did kiss it better.”

[mmso-notlikethat]

I kept thinking about lou with the small kitten, and i had to write this.. and oops, everything Tommy does here is actually things i have done 🫣

Note: they live together in Tommy’s house 🫡 ao3

Buck carefully carried the small carrier into the house. His heart raced as he glanced at the tiny cat inside, her fur a patchwork of gray and white, her bright green eyes wide with a mixture of fear and suspicion. She had been shaking when Buck found her earlier that day during a call. Tucked beneath a dumpster near the scene of a kitchen fire, she was alone, filthy, and trembling with fear. Buck couldn’t leave her there—not after she’d let him coax her out with a soft voice and some spilled takeout someone had left behind.

The guys at the station had teased him about it all afternoon. Chimney had even called her Buck’s “new soulmate.” But Buck didn’t care. All he could think about was Tommy—how much Tommy loved cats but didn’t have one of his own, how Tommy always made time for every stray they encountered.

Tommy was practically the neighborhood’s unofficial cat dad. Every morning on his runs, he’d stop by a little orange tabby’s favorite spot to leave some kibble. On their evening walks, he’d carry a pouch of treats just in case they ran into the scruffy black-and-white tomcat near the corner store. If Buck wasn’t with him, Tommy would send pictures with captions like, “Ran into Princess today. She judged me harshly but still accepted the snacks.” Or, “Look at this guy. Absolute king behavior. Think he’d let me pet him if I had tuna?”

Once, Buck caught him kneeling in someone’s yard, talking softly to a trio of kittens as if they were his own children. Another time, Tommy disappeared for twenty minutes during their grocery run only to reappear with a grin and a bag of wet food. “The alley cat behind the store needed dinner,” Tommy had explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t just the neighborhood cats that Tommy cared for—he also had a soft spot for a sleek black cat that hung around harbor.

The crew at the 217 had affectionately named her Midnight, though she never let anyone but Tommy get close.

Lucy had sent pictures of Tommy hanging out with Midnight to him, "thought this might interest you," and it did.

Every time before their shift started, Tommy would crouch by harbor's back entrance with a can of food he brought from home. Midnight would appear like clockwork, padding out from the shadows with her tail high and proud, but only after she saw it was him.

“Morning, beautiful,” Tommy would say softly, setting the food down and watching as Midnight dove in. While she ate, he’d sit cross legged nearby, occasionally murmuring to her about his day or the latest drama at work, and of course, about Evan.

One day, Lucy had caught him mid chat. “You know she’s not gonna answer, right?” She teased, leaning against the wall.

Tommy shrugged, unfazed. “Doesn’t mean she’s not listening. Right, Midnight?”

Midnight flicked her tail but didn’t stop eating. Lucy laughed, shaking her head. “You’re a cat whisperer, man. She hisses at everyone else.”

Tommy grinned. “She just has good taste.”

Later, when Tommy sent Buck a picture of Midnight lounging in the sun outside the station, the caption read, “Queen of the 217. She’s graciously accepted my tribute for today.”

Buck loved seeing that side of him—soft, patient, endlessly kind. He’d always wanted to give Tommy a cat of his own, but he wasn’t sure how Tommy would feel about the responsibility. That uncertainty was back now as he set the carrier down in their living room. Wiping his palms on his jeans, he crouched and opened the door. The cat didn’t move, her ears flattened.

"Hey, it's okay," Buck whispered. "You’re gonna love it here. I promise."

The sound of a key turning in the lock made Buck’s stomach flip. He stood as the door opened, and Tommy stepped inside, his duffle slung over one shoulder. His gaze landed on the carrier immediately.

“Evan,” Tommy said slowly, his brows furrowing. “What’s this?”

“It’s, uh, a cat,” Buck blurted. “I found her on a call today. She was under a dumpster, and she was so scared, Tommy. I couldn’t just leave her there. And I know you love cats, and you’re always taking care of the strays, so I thought maybe… you’d want her? I mean, we would both take care of her, of course, but I thought…”

Tommy dropped his bag on the couch and knelt by the carrier, peering inside. His expression softened instantly. “Oh, she’s gorgeous,” he breathed. “Hey, sweetheart.”

To Buck’s astonishment, the cat took one cautious step out, then another. She sniffed the air, her green eyes locking onto Tommy as if he were the only safe thing in the room. When Tommy held out his hand, she walked straight to him, rubbing her cheek against his fingers.

Buck crossed his arms, mock-offended. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes, and she wouldn’t even look at me.”

Tommy looked up, his grin lighting up the room. “What can I say? Cats know who their people are.”

“Wow,” Buck said, rolling his eyes but smiling. “This is the thanks I get.”

Tommy laughed, pulling Buck down beside him and kissing him softly. “Thank you,” he murmured, “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Then, as if a switch flipped, Tommy sat up straighter, his eyes lighting up. "Okay, so we need to get her a proper bed—maybe one of those ones that doubles as a hideaway? And toys, but nothing too loud, and some good quality food. Do you know if she likes wet food or kibble? No? it's fine, we'll figure it out. Do you think she would prefer one of those little climbing towers or something simpler? Also, we'll need to take her to the vet soon, just to make sure she's healthy and up to date on everything. Oh, and I have to clear some space in the corner by the window for her to sit in the sun. She's going to love that. I'll-"

"Tommy," Buck interrupted, grinning despite himself.

Tommy blinked, his cheeks flushing. "What?"

"You're rambling"

"Well, of course I'm rambling, Evan. Look at her! She's perfect, and she's scared, and she needs us."

Buck wrapped his arms around Tommy, relief washing over him. “I had no idea how you’d react,” he admitted. “I was scared you’d think it was too much or something.”

Tommy shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s perfect, Evan. You’re perfect.” He looked down at the cat, now curled up against his leg, her eyes finally closing in peace. “And she’s home now.”

Buck chuckled, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s temple. "Guess I’m gonna have to share you now, huh?"

Tommy smirked. “You’ve always had to share me—with every cat in the neighborhood.”

“Yeah, but now I’ve got competition in my own house,” Buck teased, earning a playful shove from Tommy.

As they sat there, the cat softly purring between them, Buck realized he didn’t mind sharing at all. Not when it made Tommy this happy.

[leashybebes]

bucktommy + 20 for the kiss meme? ty!

20 was on a scar. thanks for playing!

There's no part of Tommy that Buck isn't obsessed with - his arms, his catalog of smiles and the map of lines they send across his face, the cleft in his chin (of course), the tiny white scar hidden away behind his ear, the scattering of moles across the small of his back, and god, his hands, his stupid, enormous hands. His fixation rotates, a new part of Tommy every day to touch and kiss and lavish with attention. 

Today the 118 were called to the scene of an explosion, and they transported a worker with a shrapnel wound, and Buck's unable to stop thinking about the vulnerable span of Tommy's ribs for the rest of the day. Once he's finally off shift he drives home in the late afternoon light, knowing Tommy will likely be sleeping off his 48 hour shift. Sure enough, he finds Tommy sprawled in bed, his chest rising and falling slowly, a pair of shorts pulled low on his hips and the blanket tangled around his legs. 

Without taking his eyes off Tommy, Buck sheds his clothes, drops to his knees at the side of the bed and reaches out with a shaking hand to graze his thumb across the smattering of scar tissue across Tommy's ribs. Shrapnel, he'd said, like it was nothing. Like it didn't matter. Buck replaces the pad of his thumb with a soft press of his lips, then another, another, another. He feels Tommy's breathing shift, but he doesn't stop, can't stop.

"What're y'doin' baby?" Tommy murmurs, his hand coming down to curl through Buck's hair.

"Loving you," Buck says, grateful for the blackout curtains, for the way they hide the threat of tears in his eyes from Tommy. 

He must be able to hear it though, because his hand gentles against Buck's scalp, a brief, soothing touch.

"Honey…"

"Could have lost you before I even found you," Buck whispers and Tommy's hand shifts ever so slightly, guiding Buck back down again so he can press his lips against the spray of faded red, the proof of life.

"'m not going anywhere," Tommy promises, and Buck breathes in the taste of him.

list of kisses is here in case anyone wants to play!

[diazsdimples]

Congratulations on 1K 🥳 ❤️

Hope all goes well with the surgery 🫶

I'm going to request:

Bucktommy small fic: Buck or Tommy (you pick!) finds a ring box hidden in a drawer

Bucktommy text chain: flirty vibes!

MWAH!

Ahhh thank you!! Finally getting around to answering this!! Your text chains will be in a separate post 😊 I hope you enjoy!!

Little black box (Teen, 2.2k | Bucktommy)

Tommy isn't meant to see it.

Not now, at least. Not like this.

He should see it for the first time as Evan slowly gets down on one knee, producing it from his jacket pocket. It should be a surprise that fills his stomach with helium, making him feel light and as though he could float away if it weren’t for the strength of Evan’s presence beside him, keeping him forever grounded.

Instead, he just feels cold, his throat tightening as he looks down at the small, velvet box. It’s so innocent, resting between Evan’s underwear as though it’s been there for months, comfortable in its space. And it might have been, for all he knows. Tommy’s eyes sting as he pushes back the thought that he might never have known, had it not been for the skill and quick thinking of the paramedics.

His hands are shaking, he realises, as he covers the box once again, hiding it with the briefs that had once been shielding it from the world – from Tommy’s knowledge. Admittedly it’s one of the most obvious hiding places ever, easily discoverable should Tommy ever rifle through Evan’s old socks, but he’s never had any need to do that.

Until now.

Swallowing down the rapidly rising lump in his throat, Tommy picks out a couple of pairs of briefs before selecting a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt of his that he knows Evan loves. With a heavy sigh, Tommy drops to the side of their bed and his head hangs. A lone tear escapes from the corner of his eye, making a silent track down the side of his nose before dripping off the end. It falls onto the duvet cover, a small splotch of wet right next to the rose petaled pattern.

Evan’s blood is still under his fingernails, staining the tips of his fingers like rust on steel. He’d scrubbed them in the hospital as his breaths came hard and fast, his heart feeling as though it could explode from his chest. He’d scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until he bled himself. Eddie had come in behind him, taking the soap from his hands and had guided him from the bathroom.

“Go home,” he’d said, peering into Tommy’s weary face. “Get some rest. I’ll call you when he’s awake.”

Maddie had driven him home. She’d offered to stay but he’d declined, saying Evan would need her more, that she should be there when he woke up. After she’d left, he’d clutched Evan’s pillow and cried himself dry until he finally passed out.

Sleep had been fitful as images of the accident flashed behind Tommy’s eyes. He’d woken with a start, gasping for breath as his phone buzzed beside him, the lockscreen of Evan’s smiling face an ever-present reminder of what he’d almost lost.

Tommy lets out a low groan, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if that’ll erase the image of Evan’s hair, usually blond and curled, now russet and matted with blood. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it and pulls the clothes into a neat pile beside him, ready to fold into a bag when he leaves.

He should shower. He can smell the lingering scent of hospital and the metallic twang of blood clinging to his clothes. There's a red blossom at the hem of his shirt from where he'd cradled Evan's head in his lap as they'd waited for the paramedics. With a weary sigh, Tommy pulls off his shirt and kicks off his jeans, throwing them into the hamper. He can sort them when they're home.

He showers quickly and efficiently, scrubbing every inch of his body until he feels raw, but finally free from the tarnish of Evan’s blood. Hair still wet and curling at the tips, Tommy places Evan’s clothes carefully in the backpack, along with a charger, a book, and a collection of snacks.

The drive to the hospital seems to stretch, as though Chronos himself is tugging on the threads of time, stretching out every tortuous minute where Tommy isn’t by Evan’s side. He thinks about the box, about the accident, about the events leading up to it, trying to unpack it all, to find an instance where he could take the blame. Somehow, it would be easier that way.

Maddie’s waiting outside Evan’s room. There are dark circles around her eyes and her nose is red, as though she’s been crying. Eddie and Christopher are gone, though this doesn’t surprise Tommy. They’d had a long day, and the teenager was bound to be tiring out.

“How is he?” Tommy asks. His voice sounds rough, like someone’s taken to his vocal cords with sandpaper.

“Awake. Sore,” Maddie replies. She looks at Tommy softly, her hand coming up to cradle his still-shaking fingers, steadying him. “He’s been asking for you. Go.”

She nudges him gently towards the door and he goes, drawn always to Evan like a moth to a flame.

The door creaks as he opens it and Evan looks up, roused by the noise. Tommy’s heart stutters as he takes in his boyfriend’s appearance. He looks so small in the hospital bed, his chest covered in wires from the EKG leads. His head is bandaged, hiding the wide gash from Tommy’s view. Evans eyes fill with tears and he reaches out, his fingers trembling faintly.

“Tommy,” he croaks, and Tommy’s knees almost give out with relief. Evan is okay, he’s alive and he’s breathing. He isn’t bleeding anymore, his life force safely contained behind a row of stitches, some surgical glue, and a layer of fabric. He looks better than Tommy expected – maybe a little groggy, but there’s life in those eyes. And he wants his boyfriend.

Tommy crosses the room in two quick strides and drops the backpack beside the bed before sinking to his knees. His arms wrap around Evan’s shoulders, drawing him against his chest and he breathes in the coppery tang of the blood still in Evan’s hair.

“Hey, hey sweetheart it’s okay,” Tommy soothes, kissing Evan’s forehead. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Evan takes in a deep, shuddering breath. His firsts curl in Tommy’s jumper, clutching onto him as though he expects Tommy to disappear. Tommy knows the feeling.

“You weren’t here when I woke up.”

Tommy’s heart shatters into a million pieces and he pulls Evan tighter. He’ll never let go, never let Evan out of his sight again.

“I know, I’m sorry baby. I had to go home for a bit, I think Eddie was ready to chloroform me to make me rest.” Tommy chuckles quietly at the memory, and tears prick in his eyes as the pain of having to leave washes over him again. He pulls away, swiping his fist over his cheek.

“A-are you okay?” Evan asks, his hand coming up to cup Tommy’s cheek, as though Tommy’s the one that’s just been through a terrifying, life-threatening accident, not him.

“I should be asking you that, look at you,” Tommy laughs wetly, kissing Evan’s palm. He runs his hand over the rough bandage on his forehead, the fabric catching on small nicks in his skin. Evan’s eyes flutter shut, and he leans into Tommy’s touch. “Hey, I got you some clean clothes, if you wanted to get into something more comfy.”

Evan’s face lights up as Tommy reaches beside him and pulls the backpack up onto the bed.

“God yes, these hospital gowns are awful. Thank you, baby.” Evan grins as he pulls the backpack towards him and begins pawing through its contents. He kisses Tommy sweetly as he pulls out the snacks and the charger, placing the items on the small table beside his bed. The clothes come next – first the hoodie, then the sweatpants, and then finally, his boxers. Evan’s smile falters as he lifts them up, his brow furrowing as he slowly puts two and two together.

He licks his lips before speaking. “Where – uh – where did you get these from.”

Tommy could lie. He could say they they’re his, that he wasn’t thinking when he got them. Evan would laugh, probably say something flirty if he wasn’t so tired, and that would be it. He wouldn’t have to know and Tommy could live with the weight of his discovery on his own.

He can’t do that, though.

“Your underwear drawer,” Tommy eventually answers. His mouth feels dry as he braces himself for Evan’s reaction.

The blood drains from Evan’s face, leaving him waxy and pinched. “Does that mean – did you see…?”

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence, but he doesn’t have to. He never has to, when it comes to Tommy.

“Yeah,” Tommy replies softly. He takes Evan’s hand, running his thumb over his knuckles.

Evan settles back against his pillows, unable to meet Tommy’s eyes. “Oh.”

His face is etched with worry and Tommy can practically see the thoughts swirling through his brain. The brain that Tommy loves so much, that’s made Evan the man he is, so readily able to twist Evan’s thoughts and fears until he crumbles from them.

Tommy won’t allow that.

“Hey,” he says quietly, cupping Evan’s cheek. “It doesn’t change anything, Evan.”

Evan’s eyes meet his, and Tommy can see the panic behind the beautiful blue irises. He hurries to amend his statement, shuffling closer to Evan so he can rest their foreheads together, careful to avoid the bruises beneath the bandage. “Not unless you want it to.”

“W-what do you mean?” Evan asks. His voice is small, and Tommy feels a wetness against his fingertips. He wipes it away, smearing the tear against Evan’s cheek, and brushes the lightest of kisses against his lips.

He hasn’t been sure how he was going to reassure Evan about it, but the words flow easily from him now.

“I don’t mind that I found it. Nothing has been ruined for me, because I know that’s what you’re thinking right now.” The guilty flash of Evan’s eyes confirm his suspicions. “You could have proposed to me while we were 10,000 feet in the air with the helicopter spiralling out of control, and I would have said yes. You could have taken me to watch the whales, and you got down on one knee as their flukes crested a wave, and I would have said yes. You could have asked me while we were crusty and hungover and puking our brains out and I would have said yes.”

Tommy kisses Evan’s cheek, his nose, between his eyebrows, before finally pressing a kiss to his lips. He tastes salty, from blood or tears Tommy doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care. “Baby, you have to know you’re it for me,” he whispers.

Evan shudders against him, his breath hot on Tommy's lips. His hands reach out to grasp Tommy's wrist, his grip firm, stopping Tommy from pulling away. Not that he wants to.

“I know I’ve got a pretty bad concussion, but can we just ignore that for two seconds?” he asks. Tommy’s brow furrows in confusion – it wasn’t at all the response he expected. He moves backwards, giving Evan some space, gauging his expression.

“Okay?”

Evan winces a little as he moves forward, and he takes Tommy’s hands in his, his fingers rubbing at the webbing between Tommy’s thumb and forefinger. He looks beautiful, even with the slowly blackening eye and the small tuft of curls sticking up from beneath his bandage. Tommy finds himself marvelling at how lucky he is, as he does at least once a day.

“I am a little sad you found it,” Evan admits, ducking his head and looking up at Tommy through his lashes. “I’d planned a whole day – we were going to go to the Getty on our anniversary and I was going to take you into the garden and propose to you there, not where there were too many people, but so that we could see the city. Our home.”

“Evan I -”

“Let me finish,” Evan replies, flicking Tommy’s nose with a grin. Tommy does as he’s told, shutting his mouth with a snap.

Evan takes a steadying breath before continuing. “But. After today, the accident, and all those beautiful things you said to me, I think I’ve realised that there’s no point in waiting. It doesn’t matter how I ask, right? As long as it’s you and me together.”

He leans forwards again, his mouth ghosting over Tommy’s in the softest brush of a kiss.

“So, Thomas William Kinard, will you marry me?”

It’s like he’d used up all his words in reassuring Evan, because suddenly his response is stuck in his throat. Tommy looks around them, at the basin in the corner, the small table on which lies Evan’s belongings, the monitor attached to the wall that’s recorded the spike in Evan’s heart rate. He looks at Evan, battered and bruised and looking altogether worse for wear, skin the same colour as the sheets in which he’s wrapped, but alive, breathing, and asking Tommy to marry him. Nothing he could say would ever feel like enough to express his love for this man. In the end, his answer is simple, as though he’s been waiting his whole life to say it. And maybe, in some ways, he has.

“Yes, Evan, I will marry you.”

[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."