#tommy hangar

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, in all seriousness, the discussion about Buck and Buck Buckley and Evan is his name is so stupid in the nickname show. No one is calling Bobby "Robert" or Hen "Henrietta" or Chim "Howard" or Eddie "Edmundo" or Maddie the Madeline they forgot they put in 213 or even Tommy himself the Thomas that was confirmed during the medal ceremony. And Buck is the one character who has weight attached to the choice to go by Buck. Everyone understood that Ana calling Eddie "Edmundo" was odd. No one expects Maddie to call Chim "Howard" or Athena to call Bobby "Robert" since "real names are more intimate". This whole idea that we need to ignore the name that Buck was presented to us with because a mid love interest uses Evan is frankly insane. "Oh it's not like Buck objected to Tommy using it" well, Buck said with all the words before that the people who know him call him Buck. He objected to the name as a whole before, and it's not like he is telling people to call him Evan, he still introduces himself as Buck. He told a mother his name was Buck if they wanted to name her kid after him for heaven's sake. Until he says he likes Evan, I'm gonna continue to work under the assumption that he doesn't. Because it's what the show said.

[mdemn]

yes, i love mde. yes, its my favorite of the mafia trilogy. yes, i can say with 100% conviction that objectively… tommy is not an interesting character. for him to be the protagonist, he sure does have no depth to his character written in the game

[prodge]

3 dads

[moistvonlipwig]

so okay buck is peacocking around the firehouse gym lifting weights (unsafely) and repeatedly glancing over to see if EDDIE is watching while eddie is laughing it up on the phone with tommy who is NOT THERE and therefore cannot see anything buck is doing. and then buck invites EDDIE to go get a hoop. and again. i am supposed to think this is about tommy somehow?

[bookersmm]

The universe would implode if Donovan was bisexual

[alchemistc]

"Do you have some time? I could use some help."

Tommy tips his head back against the side wall of the hangar, stares at the rafters, tracks the flight of a starling through the beams. "Not sure I can steal a third helicopter in a little over a calendar year without some consequences," he murmurs, because the sound of Evan's voice is still ringing in his ears and he's fairly certain he'd accept those consequences without blinking, if it came down to it.

Evan's sharp burst of laughter sounds brittle, stale.

"No, I uh - actually I could use some advice?"

Tommy pushes himself up from the overly casual lean. "I'm all ears."

"You're mostly nose and cheekbones, actually," Evan says, that lilt to his voice teetering on dangerous ground for just a moment before he clears his throat.

In the entirety of the six months they were together Tommy heard about thirty individual stories about the times Evan went to someone for advice. About work, about his personal life, about the barista at his local who might have had a personal vendetta against leggy brunettes.

Tommy'd considered it an ill omen that he never made the roster.

"I just, um. I just got off the phone with Chief Simpson?"

Tommy wishes he was there. Sitting next to him, across the room from him, on the other side of a window just looking at him. He sounds - small.

"He's not disciplining you, is he? Because I know a union rep who -."

Evan cuts him off. "He just offered me the 118."

Tommy swallows. Tommy mulls the words over. Tommy tries to think of a delicate way to ask if the rumor that Hen turned it down is true, then.

"And how are you...feeling about that?"

Tommy will be perpetually in Evan Buckley's corner, he knows. From a distance or up close and personal, Tommy will always, always want the best for him.

He's so fucking young. He's lived so many lives at this point Tommy imagines he must sometimes feel ancient, trapped in a body and a mind that hasn't quite caught up to his soul.

Tommy knows he's thought about it, before. Taking on that role, using the skill set Bobby taught him to make another house into a home. But he'd likely never thought about it in the context of not having Bobby a phone call away. Certainly never thought about replacing Bobby.

"I don't - I don't know. How I'm - how I'm feeling. It's - I just - I want -."

Tommy checks the time. Watches the starling flit across the ceiling towards the nest Donato had threatened to beat them all about when they mentioned trying to find a way to dislodge it. Twenty-seven minutes until the end of his shift. His replacement is already here, fucking around in the weight room, bag already stuffed in his locker and flight suit already laid out on the bench because Goggins has zero respect for anyone else who might need the locker room. Melton won't mind if he takes off early. Might even be pleased to shave two hours and twenty seven minutes of OT off the books when Tommy asks if he can leave, instead of staying late. "Do you want to meet up, somewhere?"

"I... Tommy." He's not sure what his name means, sounding like that, in this particular context.

"Wherever you want. I can be almost anywhere in an hour or less. This just feels like something you might need to wrap your head around for a minute and -." He has to be vulnerable, here. In a way he fucking hates. "And it sounds like you could use a hug. I'd - I'd like to give you a hug."

Evan had never exactly been precious, about how much he craved the casual touches as much as the intimate ones.

He has to wonder who got bumped, to make Evan call him. Why not Howie, Hen, Maddie, Eddie?

"Are - are you serious?"

"As a car crash. Time and place and I'll be there."

Hopefully it won't actually require him to steal another bird to make it happen, but he'd do it, no questions asked.

"Is it out of order to suggest your place?"

Tommy can feel his brows quirking. Is Eddie still in town? Why the hell isn't Evan going to him with this?

"It's incredibly convenient for me, actually."

It's short work to let him know about how long it'll be, that he doesn't need to bring anything ("Evan, I'm serious, just be safe getting there."), to start his search for Melton. He's halfway through a rushed goodbye when Evan blows out a breath.

"Thank you, Tommy."

It's unnecessary, but it hits him right in the sternum. He'd never needed the thanks, actually preferred most of the time to have the things he does for other people go unacknowledged - thanks for that one, dad - but the tenor of Evan's voice, the tremble on his name, makes Tommy want to break the speed barrier to get to him.

Fuck.

He's never shaking loose from this one.

"Hey, you call, I come."

It feels like glass scraping it's way up his throat and out of his mouth. It feels like the type of confession he can't take back.

"I...same. Just so you know."

He hadn't known that. It's...terrifying.

"I'll see you soon, Evan.*

He still sounds small, as he says goodbye.

Tommy would fight the whole damn world to never have to hear his voice sound like that again. Best he can manage now is making his way home as quick as possible.

Maybe it'll be enough.

Maybe.

[bybobbysbeard]

For the kiss ask:

Bucktommy and 10. …desperately.

Dani, my dear. It’s been a literal month. Sorry. Nevertheless, here you go.

The kiss meme: "Desperately." Bucktommy, 2000 words, post reconciliation, mentioned canonical MCD.

There’s forty-seven steps between his truck and Tommy’s. 

Buck’s paced the distance out; ten, twenty, fifty times. A dozen parking spots. Nearly one hundred and thirty feet of cracked and patched asphalt. He tried to park closer, but the lot is a mess. Between Harbor’s staff vehicles, LAPD squad cars, and engines from three different houses, free spaces are few and far between. The 118 isn’t here, but he’s heard from Juarez on B shift, so Buck knows they’re on call if the situation changes. 

His phone is silent in his hand. Buck spins on his heel, starts the next lap back to his truck. 

Athena’s heavy stare makes the back of his neck itch. 

A plume of black smoke, thick and choking, is still rising up from the main hangar. Even from here it smells acrid, chemical and toxic. The police cordon is wide, keeping him from approaching anywhere near the station buildings. He tried to get through, stating he was off-duty LAFD and here to help, but Maddie must have called Athena. She caught up to him at the  barricade, stopping him dead with a firm hand on his elbow and five short words.

It’s not like the lab. 

They’re still echoing around his head as he paces. He’s jittery, arms and legs jerking in a sad pantomime of his usual stride. He’s tired, but can’t stop. Adrenaline drives him onward, keeps him moving so the weight of memories won’t crush him. Some of the cops are looking at him nervously, but he can’t bring himself to give a shit. Athena’s on the other side of the police tape now, standing close to Officer Williams. She’s got a radio up to her mouth, but her eyes never leave Buck. He likes to think he’s matured a lot since they first met, but he’s trying not to lie to himself as much these days. He was definitely just thinking of stealing turnouts from the 122 engine and sneaking in.

Something stops him. Something stronger than Athena’s inescapable disappointment.

Tommy wouldn’t want him to put himself in danger like that. 

Buck was doing laundry when Maddie phoned from Dispatch. An accident at Harbor: a fire, something about a refueling truck. And then, an explosion. Three people seriously injured, one driver and two firefighters, now enroute to Memorial in Harbor’s own ambulances. The 122, 131, and 102 were dispatched. LAPD was setting up a full site lockdown until the scene was secured. 

Maddie’s voice had cracked when she said lockdown. 

It’s not the same. He knows that. There’s no FBI or army. No biological threats, only the complicated chemical components of aircraft fuel and maintenance fluids. The lockdown is to keep everyone safe, not to trap Tommy and his team inside. Buck understood, but it didn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat, couldn’t prevent him dropping the armful of wet towels with a splat he barely heard, and tearing out of the house at full speed. Tommy didn’t pick up when he called him from the truck; Lucy answered on the second ring. She was already headed to the hospital, meeting their captain and some of A shift in the waiting room. She’s the one that confirmed Tommy wasn’t one of the injured. Buck let Maddie know he was heading to Harbor, and she must have told Chim, who told everyone else. Buck muted the group chat twenty minutes ago.

Tommy wasn’t even supposed to be working today. 

There’s more people in the parking lot now. He recognizes the occasional face. Family members of B shift he’s met at Harbor events with Tommy, and a few people from C shift. They’ve all congregated around their cars as they wait for news. He nods when he catches their eyes, tries to look like he isn’t about to shatter apart, like it isn’t absolutely killing him to be stuck out here while his boyfriend is still inside. 

The shiny chrome of his truck’s bumper reflects his filthy sneakers and worn sweatpants. 

Buck breathes out. Forty-seven steps. Breathes in. Pivots, and heads towards Tommy’s truck.

He finishes another three laps before there’s a change. Buck hears the crackle of several radios, relief audible in more than one voice. He stops pacing, midpoint between their two vehicles. Some unseen release of tension runs through the line of officers. Athena finally looks away from him, tipping her head up to the sky and closing her eyes. He’s already headed towards her when she ducks under the tape and clips the radio back to her belt. 

“Fire is out and they’ve neutralized the rest of the spilled fuel. You still can’t go in without gear, but everyone should be coming out soon.” She’s watching his face carefully as she wraps her fingers around the hand still holding his phone. “Lockdown’s over, Buck.”

Her eyes are so gentle. 

Horrifyingly, he feels that tell-tale burning behind his eyes and flashes hot, all-over. God, he’s so selfish. Buck might feel like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin from the overlap, but Athena lost so much more. And here he is, making her keep an eye on him so he doesn’t do something stupid. 

“Athena, thank you. I don’t… I–I’m not sure what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

She scoffs, her lips curving up into a smile. “Of course I’m here. Who else is going to keep the 118 out of trouble?” She squeezes his hands. “You’re family, Buckaroo. No matter what the call is about.”

Buck just nods. He can’t trust his voice right now. 

“Now, you stay right here, and I’m going to go update the Harbor crew. And text your sister please, she’s been blowing up my phone.” With one last squeeze, she lets him go and heads towards the rest of the parking lot. 

It’s another half an hour before figures start exiting the main hangar. Most are fully geared up, heading towards the engines, but there’s the occasional person out of uniform or in coveralls, wearing a respirator and gloves. They head towards the parking lot, ducking under the cordon. They’re soot-stained and there’s more than a few pieces of gauze covering minor injuries. Buck stands at the edge of it all, people streaming around him. He watches reunions happen throughout the parking lot, desperate families ignoring the ash and smell of burnt avgas to welcome their loved ones with hugs and kisses. 

He fumbles his phone back into his pocket, hands shaking. He’s hollowed out, anxiety-carved chunks missing from his heart from the last few hours and leaving him cavernous, ears ringing with his own breathing. 

C shift checks-in with the exiting B team, and Buck hears bits and pieces of the story. From the sounds of it, the main hangar will be out of commission for weeks, and someone at the Chief's Office is already investigating how the malfunctioning fuel bowser passed its last inspection. Thankfully, the fire didn’t spread to the underground storage tanks, but there was still significant damage and at least one bird was totaled. 

The stream of people leaving the hangar slows to a trickle. Buck looks around, but he’s lost sight of Athena. Tommy doesn’t appear.

The empty feeling grows.

At some point, he wrapped his hands around the flimsy black and yellow plastic of the police tape. An anemic breeze coming in off the water makes it sway limply on either side of his grasp. Most of the LAPD officers have walked away, leaving him alone, staring at the half open hangar door and the shadowed interior. 

Finally, there’s movement. Two figures, one in full turnouts, one in a half-undone flight suit in a familiar blue. Buck’s under and away from the tape before he’s consciously decided to move, hurrying across the lot at a fast clip. One of the figures clocks him, and elbows the other. The second one stutters, missing a step. Buck’s heart pounds. The second figure starts moving again, breaking into a jog. Buck speeds up. 

Soon enough, he can see details. The flight suit is ripped and torn, and unzipped to the waist. The revealed grey tee shirt is stained with sweat and ash. There's a red smear on the fabric over the ribs that looks concerningly like blood. A thin pad of gauze is wrapped around a strong forearm, stark-white against the soot. Dark brown curls threaded with grey are messy and falling over a sweaty forehead, eyebrows raised in surprise. Those stormy blue eyes are wide and shocked, but relieved, and oh-so familiar.

Tommy’s got his arms out, reaching for Buck as he sprints closer, and his mouth is open and moving, but Buck can’t hear it. His heartbeat’s pounding through his skull, reverberating and turning everything else to white noise. Buck has the wherewithal to think he should probably slow down, but the thought barely has time to percolate before they’re slamming into each other. Buck feels the breath whoosh out of Tommy instead of hearing it, but those welcoming arms still wrap around him. 

Sound filters back in. First, his own gasping breaths. And then, a voice. 

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m fine, I promise, I’m fine. I’m so sorry, honey. Didn’t know you were here. My phone’s probably in a thousand pieces. Evan, please. You gotta breathe.”

Buck forces a noisy breath in through his nose.

“Good baby, that’s perfect. Just like that.”

His own voice croaks out of his throat, “Are you really okay?”

Tommy hugs him close, one heavy hand on the back of Buck’s head tucking his face against the gritty skin of his neck. “I swear I’m okay. Just a scratch. I had to crawl into the truck to get the driver out.”

Buck swallows roughly, leaning back to look Tommy in the eyes. He’s here, he’s okay. The lockdown’s lifted and no one is trapped. It’s not like the lab. The pit in his chest finally starts to fill in; relief is a cool rush of feeling, leaving him shaky with solace. His hands scrabble at Tommy’s shoulders and he presses their lips together frantically, with zero finesse. 

It is, objectively, probably their worst kiss. Tommy jerks away in surprise, his hands hovering, but presses back in so quickly their teeth clack together. Stubble catches and their noses bump. Buck’s breath is still hiccupping in and out of him, and Tommy is filthy, spreading soot over both their faces. At least they're not in a hospital lobby this time. A second later, that heavy hand is back, guiding Buck’s head to a better angle. Their lips connect again, and this kiss is smoother, warmth and comfort flourishing between them. Another hand lands at the small of his back, bringing their bodies closer. Buck sighs into the kiss, opening his mouth and licking at Tommy’s plush lower lip. 

Heat sparks, catches, like it always does with the two of them. Buck wants to forget the lockdown, forget the parking lot, forget why this day sent him on such a spiral. Tommy moans, low in the back of his throat, and deepens the kiss, sucking Buck’s tongue into his mouth. One of Buck’s hands finds the edge of the flight suit, fingers dipping under to feel the body-warmed cotton of Tommy’s boxers. Buck aches to be closer, needs to crawl inside of his boyfriend so he never has to feel this way again. He settles for running his tongue over the back of Tommy’s teeth, tasting the soot in his mouth and trying to remove every trace.

A throat clearing behind Tommy makes them both jump. 

“Not that this ain’t sweet, but Sergeant Grant is on her way, and I’m pretty sure you were supposed to stay behind the yellow line, Buckley.”

Buck swallows, and carefully disentangles his limbs from Tommy, who pouts adorably. “I mean, she didn’t exactly say that. She mostly said don’t go in the hangar. But, um, thanks, Captain Deluca.” Tommy wraps his unbandaged arm around Buck’s middle, and Sal falls in at his other shoulder. They slowly start making their way towards the trucks.

“Kid, I’ve just seen you play tonsil hockey with my best friend. And you’re off-duty. I think you can call me Sal.” Sal’s voice is wry and Tommy snorts a laugh.

“Best? At this point I’m your only friend.”

“Is that so? Maybe next time I’ll just let the hangar burn down around you.” 

“God, you’re such a bitch when you have to clean your kit.” 

“And you’re such a bitch when you actually have to fight a fire instead of flying around in a chopper all day.”

“A chopper? I’m sorry, did we fall into an eighties action movie sometime in the last five minutes?”

“You would know, you fucking nerd.”

Tommy looks so offended, Buck can’t help it. He laughs. Soon Sal’s chuckling too, and Tommy’s failing to fight off a smile. He’s looking at Buck, his eyes sparkling, when Athena catches up to them. She takes one look at Buck, giggling helplessly, and Tommy, helplessly charmed, and her stern expression just melts away.

[beefcakekinard]

"Evan, I'm going to be late."

To be fair, Tommy isn't not enjoying the way Evan has draped himself, shirtless, along his back. He's one long hot point of contact, and when he slides his hands down Tommy's arms until he can tangle their fingers together, it chases the air conditioned chill from Tommy's skin.

"Mmph. Stop picking up people's shifts and I'll let you go." Tommy gamely doesn't point out the sleepy whine in Evan's voice. Instead, he kisses the back of one of Evan's hands and starts trying to pull his fingers free.

"I told you - c'mon, sweetheart - McAllister had the baby, and we're all pitching in to give her a little more mat leave - Evan, really-"

Evan suctions himself even closer, somehow. "But you're the one I come home to." He sighs. "The one I'll be missing."

Either unaware of or choosing to ignore the way that Tommy's heart has melted into utter goop, Evan burrows his face into the side of Tommy's neck. The soft whuffs of his breath tickle.

"It'll be over before you know it." Tommy frees his fingers, finally, and turns so they're chest-to-chest. He cradles Evan's face in his hands. "Next time you see me we'll have a whole three days together, and trust me, I'm not going to be letting you out of my sight."

Evan grins, loose and dopey with affection. "Okay. Deal," he says, and leans in to press a kiss right in the middle of Tommy's lips. He leaves another at Tommy's cupid's bow, another at the corner of his mouth, one more at the top of the cleft in his chin. "Love you. Keep yourself safe, I happen to like that guy."

"Yeah?" Tommy kisses right under Evan's grin. "Guess I'd better, if that's the case."

"Okay then."

"Okay."

He lets the moment linger, and it's worth the reprimand he gets for jogging up to the hangar ten minutes late. It's worth more than anything.

[iamcxlleigh]

I remember how much effort I put into this, I did EVERYTHING from 0, without Templates or anything. ♡

❛ 🌡️ ⌗ ¡ Lo nuevo en Netflix ! MAFIA : DEFINITIVE EDITION LLEGA A NETFLIX ESTE 25 DE SEPTIEMBRE.

¿Te atreves a conocer la historia de Tommy Angelo y su camino junto a la familia criminal Salieri's en Lost Heaven?

Créeme.. es una oferta que no podrás rechazar...

credits for : @iamcxlleigh

¡ attention ! Todo el contenido presentado fue hecho totalmente por mi, sin el uso de contenido de otros autores, los gifs e imágenes junto con las interfaces de la aplicación netflix fueron hechos por mi, por lo cual está totalmente prohibido que uses este contenido tomándolo como tuyo, respeta el trabajo y esfuerzo de los demás !

Los personajes y nombres del tema principal pertenecen al juego Mafia : definitive edition, publicado y distribuido por las empresas 2K Games y Hangar 13, créditos a ellos por el uso de su contenido para realizar este trabajo.

Lo más importante para mí es que te haya gustado. ♡

‹ 06. Ago. 2022 ›

[rcmclachlan]

I'd love to hear Dana and Nico discussing Tommy's latest bout of insanity with a probie if you're up for it

"... appears the LAFD helicopter is now leading the Army on a chase..."

The very moment KTLA reporter Chris Wolf says 'chase', the entire hangar erupts into pained groans and shouts of disbelief mixed with fury, plus one enthusiastic whoop that is collectively ignored in favor of the massive white board that DeJong and Goodell rolled out of Captain Ribeiro's office about ten seconds after Kinard escaped with the AW139.

The board is a veritable rainbow of imagination, mostly because it's covered in sticky notes of various colors, and standing in front of it is the most unforgiving authority figure most of the crew have seen since grade school.

"All right, assholes, shut up!" Donato shouts, then consults the board. The hangar falls silent, waiting. "Right now Myers is in the lead with 118 shenanigans, government fuckery, and a high-octane chase, but since Nguyen also bet on 118 shenanigans and a chase that would specifically involve MH-6Ms, Myers, you may have to split the pot."

Myers grudgingly nods. Nguyen discreetly pumps her fist.

Meanwhile, their two-week old probie Mona—who was given the nickname "Idol" after Kelley accidentally pronounced her name as 'Mony' and got the song stuck in everyone's head for days, despite not being old enough to know who Billy Idol even is—takes in the tableau with wide eyes. "Is this, uh, legal?"

"In the state of California? Nah." Nico shrugs, then bites into an unpeeled grapefruit like an apple. "But here? It's fine. You stick around long enough and you'll make some serious cash. Goodell made almost five grand with the cruise ship thing."

Mona stares. "And Cap allows this?"

"Allows it? Who do you think made the first bet?" Nico points to where their illustrious captain is perusing the board with annoyance clinging to his shoulders like a cloak, muttering under his breath.

"Anytime Kinard pulls something like this, we wheel out the board," Dana says, coming to stand on Mona's other side, surveying the pandemonium.

"D-Did you place a bet?"

Nico snorts. "Dane's not allowed to bet anymore. She's dead on the money every time."

"Not every time," Dana demures.

"Okay, but no one could've seen the elephant tusk thing coming." At Mona's wild-eyed look, Nico clarifies, "poacher plane over Channel Island. Kinard brought it down."

With the way everyone's clustered around Donato and the board, holding various sticky pads in the air and waving them around, it looks like the stock market is crashing and everyone's about to dump their shares.

"Oh, speaking of." Dana scrapes at something under her thumbnail. "Did you change the sign?"

Nico says through a mouthful of rind, "I think Donato did."

"The sign?" Mona echoes faintly.

With a nail sharper than any of the steak knives in the communal kitchen, Dana points to the professionally made sign hanging next to the weight room door.

__ DAYS SINCE KINARD LAST TAUNTED GOD.

The '32' that had been sitting pretty at the front of it for the last month has been flipped back to '0'.

"T-This happens often enough for a sign?" Mona looks a little dizzy, and Dana wants to tell her that if she can't cope with a co-worker stealing municipal property and pissing off the government from time to time, she's probably not cut out for Los Angeles. But Captain Ribeiro suggested on Dana's last evaluation to keep her often-correct opinions to herself, if only to keep morale high, so she says nothing.

Nico does for her. "Ever since Kinard started seeing Buckley? Yeah."

"Buckley?"

"Human dalmatian and resident heroic dumbass at the 118," Dana explains. "He and Kinard have an on-again-off-again thing going on that threatens the populace on a bi-monthly basis. If they ever do manage to figure out their shit, it'll take out half the city."

Mona squints at the TV, where the AW139 goes into a perfect hammerhead before slipping past the Figueroa at Wilshire with the grace of a shadow, leaving the MH-6M floundering in mid-air, and everyone clustered around the board starts shouting and waving their sticky notes again.

"And this is.... on again?"

"At this point, no one knows or cares. Kinard has always been certifiable; he'd been looking for an excuse to get worse." Dana glances at the TV. The AW139 banks up, executes a textbook barrel roll, and then disappears out of the range of the KTLA's camera.

"Holy BLEEP, did you see that?!" Chris Wolf cries.

"It's a shame I never really got to talk to him much," Mona says, a little forlorn. "I would've loved to learn from him."

Nico turns a confused look on her. "You still can? He's not dead."

"I mean, he's gonna be arrested and fired, right?"

At that, Dana presses the backs of her fingers to her mouth to hide a chuckle. "Oh, Idol, you're sweet. Kinard'll gently bully that out of you when he's back on Tuesday."

[mdemn]

ok tommy “family is forever” angelo— what’s your daughter’s name and when was your son born? 🤨 🎤

[geddyqueer]

wip wednesday wednesday

finally remembered how to write! wahoo! thanks @screamlet for the tag; passing this on to @dharmaavocado @setmeatopthepyre @liminalmemories21 @alchemistc @beanarie @rcmclachlan and anyone else who wants to play. here's some more of my 8x11 fix it wip, no crying in baseball:

"Damn, Kinard," Donato says as he rolls into work the next morning. "You lose a fight?"

After a couple tylenol and a cold shower his face doesn't feel that bad, but he was right—black eye, bruise smearing over the bridge of his nose, and a rough night of sleep because he kept rolling over onto the wrong side. "I'm fine," he says. "I got hit in the face by a softball thrown by a thirteen year old."

She winces. "I thought you were doing better after the breakup, you know? Not—not going out and getting in bar fights, or whatever."

"I didn't get in a bar fight. I got hit in the face by a softball thrown by a thirteen year old," he says, as if that's somehow better.

As if on cue Richardson pokes his head in through the door. "Kinard, there's a woman out here who wants to apologize for her daughter hitting you in the face with a—Jesus! You get in a bar fight?"

Tommy pushes past him and heads out into the main hangar. "Hey," he says, offering the woman standing there awkwardly clutching her bag his hand. "Tommy Kinard."

"Oh my gosh," she says as she takes in his face. "I'm so sorry. Emma has terrible aim."

"But she has a ton of power," he says. "She just needs practice. Anyway, no harm, no foul."

"It actually looks like quite a bit of harm," she says. "I'm Tracy. I'm supposed to be their Scout leader but they've all given up on Scouts and decided they want to do softball instead and while I support everything they want to do, I honestly have no idea how softball works."

"It's like baseball, but the ball is bigger," Tommy says. "And they pitch underhand. And there's usually only seven innings."

"Right," Tracy says. Behind her Tommy can see most of the rest of the Harbor crew inching closer, ears first. "I don't know anything about baseball, either. And we were going to have their math teacher do it, but he had to bow out last minute. Scheduling, you know. It's state testing season. And then, well, another parent was going to give it a try, but she was in a horrible accident at Trader Joe's—"

"Sparkling water lady," Tommy says, nodding. "We transported her, actually. Crazy what those pallets can do when they tip."

"Oh, it's awful," Tracy agrees. "So finally we asked another girl's cousin, she's in college locally, but I guess there were some issues with her social life, and now the girls have no one."

"Right. The girls mentioned that."

Tracy nods, pursing her lips. The rest of A-shift has moved in so close there's no way to plausibly deny they're listening. Tommy braces himself. "Did you really volunteer? Or was my kid lying? Because we would be thrilled to have a firefighter as our coach. Especially one who knows how the game works."

"Not just a firefighter but a firefighter pilot," Richardson cuts in.

"Oh!"

"Yeah, he got a medal for valor and innovative thinking last year," Donato adds.

"Oh, wow," Tracy says. Tommy feels his face heating up.

From behind him Melton comes and puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Ma'am, if you were to ask me which of my crew I would trust most to take charge in an emergency, or to fly a helicopter through hurricane conditions, or to lead a group of high school girls—"

"Middle school," Tracy corrects.

"—middle school girls to a softball tournament, well, I would choose this man for all three."

"Sir," Tommy says, but Melton ignores him and guides Tracy over to his office.

"Now, being a dad, I know a little about the machinations of the community sports world myself, and I know how hard it is to get things scheduled…"

The door shuts behind them, and Donato and Richardson and every other fucking joker in this hangar pounce on him like cats on a sickly tired mouse.

"I told you," he says, pointing at his eye. "Softball thrown by a tween."

"Hey, man, whatever it takes to get you out of this funk," Richardson says. "Glad you've got a hobby."

"I have a million hobbies," Tommy protests. "And I'm not in a funk!"

Everyone fidgets a little.

"…am I in a funk?"

Donato nods. "So it's, you know, really good to see you doing something that'll make you happy," she says.

Tommy presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, yelping when he remembers the giant fucking bruise on his face. Someone pats his back reassuringly.

[xofemeraldstars]

#and Buck hurt himself and Tommy kissed it better #right? — tags by @station18908

I don't remember if he got hurt hurt but he DID trip at some point and tommy came to him to help him up and buck got all giddy-flustered-blushy about it 🫶

in my heart's heart I saw bucktommy again cause I dreamed of them 🤗 🫶🥰

the dream was an au of the basketball scene where buck was falling over himself (even literally at some point lol) to get tommy's attention WHICH HE GOT‼️cause tommy was enamored with him 🫶 and they were very cute 🥰

[whineandcheese24]

thinking about a universe where Buck never went to the basketball game, or at least never body-checked Eddie. Buck still has this weird feeling, but he goes home and he tries not to think about it, and he goes to work and he tries not to think about it, and Eddie tells him about the drinks he and Tommy grabbed after the game and he tries not to think too much about the twist in his gut or the shiver down his spine. but then he gets a call from Tommy asking if he was serious about those flying lessons, and Buck says yes before he even processes the question because all he hears is that he'll get to spend time with Tommy without anyone else there. he doesn't quite understand why but he knows that's what wants. So he and Tommy meet up at the hangar for a lesson, and one lesson turns into two turns into four turns into drinks after shifts and Tommy's karaoke bar trivia. And he and Tommy are friends now but that fluttery feeling in his stomach never quite goes away. One day Tommy offers to show him some muay thai moves and Buck doesn't think anything of it until Tommy is shirtless and sweaty and Buck loses focus long enough for Tommy to end up on top of him and Buck's face is burning up in a way he knows is from more than the workout but he doesn't know why. Buck goes home after that hot and bothered and really confused and maybe he just needs to start dating again. It has been a while since he and Natalia broke up, but he scrolls through a dating app for a half hour, and none of the women that show up are appealing so he goes to sleep unsatisfied, mind drifting to hard muscles and big arms and a crinkly smile that he doesn't remember in the morning. This goes on for a little while, where he hangs out with Tommy, and his stomach flutters in a way he can't explain. Until one day after flying lessons, Tommy comes up to his apartment, and Buck hands him a beer, and the two of them are sitting next to each other at the kitchen island just talking about life and work and flying, and the whole time Buck is hanging on Tommy's every word, looking directly in his eyes, ever so slightly tilting his head, moving his arm closer, scooting forward in his chair, and he doesn't even realize what he's doing except Tommy's voice is low and gravelly, and Buck's face is heating up again, and it's getting hard to keep looking at him so he goes to get another beer, and when he comes back Tommy is standing. And he's just a hair taller than Buck, but it's enough to make his breath catch in his throat. In this universe, when Tommy leans in, his fingers guiding Buck's chin up to his lips, he's slow and deliberate. In this universe, Buck kisses him back harder and hungrier, because even though he still wasn't sure what it was Tommy was making him feel, he can't say he's surprised this is where they ended up. In this universe, Tommy takes weeks to kiss him, but it's longer and hotter and doesn't just stop at a peck.

[buckevantommy]

8x11 Bucktommy fixit coda of sorts: Tommy and Eddie talk. hopeful ending?

It's been almost a week since he walked out of Evan's life, again, when Tommy gets a call from an unfamiliar number. With an El Paso area code.

"Diaz. How's Texas?"

"Texas? Texas is great, Tommy, thanks for asking."

Thanks for telling me, Tommy thinks but doesn't say, because he doesn't want to be snarky and irritated this early into his shift. He takes a breath to try and calm himself and let the negative thoughts release on the slow exhale as Eddie lists off the positive impact his move has made on both Christopher's life and his own.

Everything aside, Tommy's happy for him. For both of them.

"But from what I heard, things in L.A. are kinda fucked."

Then again: Eddie can be a bigger bitch than Tommy when he wants to be so he might as well meet him on the field, knives drawn. "Did Buck tell you that?" It comes out sharp and he lets it hang, wants it to slice.

"Oh, yeah. I had a very interesting and totally insane converstaion with Buck where he said the reason you dumped him was because you thought he'd dump you for me if you didn't."

It's not the whole truth, but it cuts all the same. Good thing Tommy has armor forged in the slow burning coals of a lifetime of being a disappointment. He can take a jab from an old friend he didn't even know that long. In the six months he dated Evan. his time with Eddie dwindled to nothing. They were fast friends who fizzled out, not unlike his relationship with.. Buck. "I wouldn't say it's insane."

He was never going to mention it, is the thing. It wasn't really until they broke up that Tommy began to wonder if the reason Ev- Buck hadn't reached out was because he'd moved on. Eddie certainly didn't look back, ceasing all communication in the fallout. And it hurt, to lose not just Evan - and he was Evan to him then - but someone he thought was becoming a good friend. As much of a friend as Tommy would let into his life, anyway.

"Oh, it's batshit insane, Kinard. Almost as batshit insane as stealing a chopper and flying it headfirst into a hurricane."

That's a blow that lands with a dull ache, a bruise that'll linger. It was the night they met - him and Eddie, him and Evan - and whatever else came after, Tommy holds fast to that memory as one of the highlights of his treacherous and lonely life, despite - or maybe inclusive of - the life-threatening feats of.. insanity.

He's quiet for too long. Doesn't answer because any words that come to mind are scathing in a way he doesn't want to marr that fond memory with.

Eddie sighs heavy through the speaker, the fight seeming to drain out of his voice. "It's not like that, man, you gotta know."

Tommy straightens his posture where he's walked out of the hangar, staring at the chainlink fence separating the tarmac to the weeds and the grass and the distant treeline.

"Me and Buck are close- we're family- but it's not like that. Not like it is between you two."

Was, Tommy doesn't say. He doesn't dare hope but he can't bring himself to say it out loud, nail in the coffin.

"And I resent the fact you think I don't know myself like that, Tommy. I may be figuring some stuff out but I figured that shit out back in high school and every day since. Just 'cause you kissed Buck and it turned his world view on its head doesn't mean every straight guy you meet is just one good smooch away from wanting to put their mouth on your dick."

"Jesus, Eddie." No nonsense. It's one of the things he always liked about the guy. That, and the way he could deliver off-color comments with a straight face, only breaking if and when Tommy couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Look. I'm sorry about not reaching out after everything. I had Buck's back, y'know? Bros before manhoes."

"You calling me a hoe, Diaz?" His face morphs into a smile as they fall back into this old - barely new before it was over - back and forth.

"No. Just an idiot for managing to mess things up twice now."

"Eddie-"

"Don't worry, I know it was Buck's fault, too, okay? I already chewed him out and kicked his ass into gear- he call you yet? He mentioned talking to Maddie, said he wanted to call you."

No call, just a text that read: can we talk? please?? that Tommy hasn't replied to. Doesn't want to invite himself to a third round of heartbreak. "I'm on shift, so. If that's all? I gotta get back."

"No, that is not all- get your head out of your ass, Tommy. Talk to him. And let him spiral a bit until he finds the right words - he'll get there, eventually. It just takes him some time. 'Cause he's not over you and I don't think he ever will be."

He doesn't know me, Tommy thinks. And that's the real crux of the issue, isn't it? It's not about Eddie. And it's not about Evan not knowing what he wants because of his relatively newly discovered queerness.

It's about Tommy knowing he's not good enough to keep Evan in the long run.

Evan might think he won't get over Tommy, but he will. There'll be someone else, someone better, there always is. Maybe not Eddie, but some man or woman will get to keep him for a while longer, maybe a lifetime if they're lucky.

And Tommy.. he'll do what he's always done: find ways to survive, alone.

But.. if this is his last chance to talk to Eddie, and by extension Evan.. "Look, thankyou for clearing the air, but. I can't, okay? He is- was, the one I wanted forever with. I told him this. But I'm not that for him. I can't be." Not because he doesn't want to be - god, does he want to be - but because he's not enough. He's never been enough for anyone to want to keep.

Eddie sighs in his ear. "Y'know, if I wasn't 800 miles away right now I don't know if I'd hug you or try to knock some sense into you."

A hint of a smile tracks across Tommy's lips, fading fast. He misses their sparring sessions but doesn't want to let himself be sad over losing another would-be friend - he's got enough to be sad about and no time or want to wallow in any of it.

"Well." Thing is: even if this thing with Evan is dead and buried, if Eddie is open to it.. "If you're ever in town, my garage is always open. And," he steels himself, takes another breath and shakes it out, "I'm sorry. Sorry for thinking.. you know." The idea doesn't dig into his heart anymore, no marks left behind, just the shadow of a phantom chased away out the corner of his eye.

"Don't sweat it man. Seriously. but, hey- the not feeling good enough, thing? You're not alone in that, man. And the thing about Buck? He loves people for who they are, faults and demons and all."

Tommy knows. He knows how big Buck's.. Evan's, heart is, which is why he knows he deserves better.

"And if you ever wanna talk, consider this line of communication open."

Tommy's smile comes back stronger, lingers. There's a wet sheen threatening to blur his vision. His throat catches as he swallows. His voice comes out a little raspy when he says, "Thanks, man. Same to you."

Eddie makes a sound of agreement, then: "Call Buck."

Someone calls Tommy from the hangar. "I gotta go. Take care, Eddie." He hangs up before Eddie can add anything else to torture him with.

Making his way over to the main hangar, he thumbs over to his text chain with Evan. He types out four little letters, then backspaces and types a different four: okay when? then exits out of the screen and locks and pockets his phone.

It's a bad idea, no matter what Eddie says or what Tommy's realised in the last few minutes. It's still a bad idea. Tommy has to protect his heart.

..Doesn't he? Doesn't he deserve at least that?

The klaxon sounding cuts off further tormentive thoughts as he shifts into work mode and focuses his concentration and efforts on doing his job. Even if he can't salvage his love life he can save a life or two elsewhere.

[apollabarnes]

if i can live through this

cw: major character death, time loops, so many deaths but none are permanent, 8.8k 8x15 fix it (on ao3)

He's on their fourth call of the day when Tommy realizes that… everything is exactly the same as his dream. Not almost, not sort of, exactly. He spends the rest of the call privately freaking out. If the dream was real, then… He reaches out, grabbing Lucy's sleeve and guiding her in front of him right before the woman beside them trips and her coffee goes flying. "Sheesh," Lucy says, looking over her shoulder at him. "That would have been unfortunate. I just got this shirt." Tommy bites back the I know that wants to escape — he'd heard her complain about it the entire time she tried to clean it up in the hospital bathroom and all the way back to the hangar. "Maybe this is why they don't want us to wear civvies under the flight suits," Tommy says instead.