My BuckTommy time travel fix-it series currently has 118 bookmarks on Ao3 and I think that's neat.

Season 1 is complete on Ao3

Season 2 is in the works

it’s far beyond a star (it’s near beyond the moon)

early on sunday morning, buck drives up the coast a-ways to this secluded beach he likes, where he can rent a board and have a coffee afterward and browse a hidden gem of a used bookstore. they’re barely open when he gets there, but lee, the old man who owns the shop knows him, and he’s there shooting the shit with his friend al like always, so it’s no problem for buck to get a board and then into his wetsuit before paddling out.

the sun’s barely up when he hits the beach, and the waves aren’t turbulent—they’re never turbulent here—but they are a bit more moody and grey than usual. it’s november. the earth itself knows it’s november. the ocean knows it’s november, and it seems like she knows how much this month has taken from buck already.

crash that jeep and knock up that pilot !!!!

Blood drips onto the windshield.

Which is weird, until Buck realizes where he is. He'd just finished his hike, something to get out of the house and away from the baking supplies because there's only so many loaves of bread he can fit in his fridge after giving so much away.

The signal is bad in this specific trail too, so he knew he wouldn't be tempted to call Tommy.

Behind the blood on his cracked windshield, Buck can see further down the edge of the mountain he'd been driving on. Someone had been coming up the hill way too fast and he'd swerved and pulled over, but then...he thinks the ground crumbled underneath his back right tire and pulled his Jeep down with it.

Had he rolled? He can't remember. It's a blur. There's a tree blocking him from going further down the side of the mountain, and it's what had busted his windshield. One of the tree limbs is piercing through the passenger seat, and he's suddenly glad that he hadn't brought anyone with him for his mope hike.

He wants to call Tommy.

First, though, he needs to get out of the Jeep and onto solid ground. The ominous creaking that the tree makes only solidifies that thinking. Buck tries the seatbelt, but it's jammed and won't come undone. He keeps a tool in his glove box that should cut through it, but as he tries to reach over and grab it, he's stopped by a piercing pain in his gut.

Buck looks down. "Oh."

okay look listen, the first time buck is riding tommy and they start slow and careful because it's a new position and maybe they haven't done much anal yet. buck is on tommy's lap with his legs sprawled on both sides and tommy's hands are covering his waist and their faces are so close. tommy is guiding him up and down slowly at first, just petting his legs, kissing his face, gently fucking up into him. gradually they speed up, buck getting into it, then faster and faster and faster, and buck gets so overwhelmed with the position and having a cock inside him like this so he starts jumping on tommy's cock. tommy is basically caught between his iron-lock thighs as buck clings to him, starts clawing at his back, clenches around his dick, using those strong legs to glide up and down tommy's length and the mattress is creaking and buck gets soooo mindless and dumb with it all, his movements are all off-beat and out-of-rhythm and amateurish, the sweat is slicking down between their chests and he digs his heels in the bed, and he's just taking taking taking while switching between moaning into tommy's neck and trying to suck on his tongue all messily as tommy tries to calm him down and steady him so they can settle into a better position where buck actually gets his prostate pounded like he wants but buck is so overwhelmed with tommy just taking space inside him and how close they are and how he's got tommy locked in and under him and he's whining in protest at tommy's baby calm down, crying, basically throwing a fit and being brat extraordinaire bc he doesn't want to let go of the cock inside him and there are frustrated tears crowding his eyes and his thighs are burning as he pulls up and sinks back down and he's wetly moaning against tommy's mouth. at last tommy snaps and overpowers him into flipping their positions and then he fucks him as he deserves as they kiss all messily, tear, sweat, drool. happy ending ♡

wait no. because buck acts too eager and insolent to the point of not listening to tommy that day, tommy decides buck needs to learn some self-control. so that night they get hot and heavy as they usually do and tommy says he wants to bottom but just as buck is about to enter him he stops him. and forces him into just. humping. buck's taken aback but he goes along with it but soon he realizes he's only allowed to slide his erection along tommy's crack, tommy halting him everytime buck wants to slip inside, so it's buck's aching erection over tommy's hole. tommy kisses his face and tells him to keep going as buck gets less and less patient with his cock leaking and drooling in pain with the worst friction and nothing else allowed and he's whining and sobbing and apologizing to tommy, promising he'll listen to him from now on, he'll be good, begging against tommy's neck to just let him put it in, just the tip, just a little bit daddy, please. he's crying as tommy just kisses his splotchy red face and caresses his trembling arms holding him above tommy's body and he's all do you need it so bad? how bad do you need it, pup? at last he takes pity on buck and lets him inside and buck is just shaky wails and sobs exploded out of him after the looong wait and there are tears in his eyes cuz it's so tight and warm and tommy is holding him in his arms and buck really really really doesn't wanna cum yet, he doesn't know if he's allowed to make a mess so soon but it's sooooo hard

lots of mpreg fic but not enough of the impregnation. someone send me buck getting knocked up good

MORE BREEDING KINK GOOD BUCKTOMMYS PLEASE!

"Well, that's just undignified," says a familiar voice to the little girl she's been watching run the gamut of making Park Friends for the last three minutes. She runs straight into his legs and raises her arms, and it looks automatic, the way he swings her up and wipes at her face with a wet wipe he just whipped out of a back pocket. "How is anyone gonna recognize you the next time we come to this park?"

(Abby had watched her reach down and streak a solid line of mud down both cheeks a minute and a half ago and just been thankful that she'd missed those years, with Sam's kids.)

He's the same. He's - entirely different.

The smile on his face reaches his eyes in a way she's never seen, and some of the lines around his mouth are deeper. He holds himself differently and she can't pinpoint exactly what it is. He looks settled in his skin.

Of all the parks in all of LA, she thinks to herself, and then she remembers their friend Gertie telling her about the house Tommy had bought that most of them had assumed was a cry for help. A real fixer-upper, she'd said, an ironic lilt to her voice, a wry half smile because she'd gotten Abby in the divorce. As it were.

(Hadn't stopped her from gossiping like a bored housewife about Abby and Buck, eighteen months later, but at least she'd been able to spot Gertie's handiwork when she'd fielded no less than nine concerned texts about her himbo.)

There's no rapid knocking at the door, no angry shouts through the letter box, just one simple ding-dong of his doorbell that doesn't warn him about what's coming. Tommy peels himself off the sofa and kicks the blanket away from his feet before he makes his way down the hall, skin grubby from day three of no shower. Scratching at his neck, he peers through the peephole, finds no one, and opens the door to—

"Happy birthday, you asshole."

Evan shoves a plastic-boxed cake into his arms and shoves past him, all shoulders and grief-tinged rage. Tommy blinks at the empty space in front of him and then down at the cake with it's melting frosting and badly piped Happy Birthday that's threatening to slide off the top. The bottom of the box is warm, the cake presumably out of the oven in the last hour or two, and he shuts the door behind Evan.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is a telling rasp, and he turns only to find that Evan's not there and he's speaking to the air.

Moving back into his house he finds his ex-boyfriend standing in the living room, taking in the scene of Tommy's post-break up depression with an unimpressed look on his face.

"Evan—" he starts only to fall silent when a sharp look is thrown at him, pain etched into the lines of Evan's face.

"I thought it was Buck now," is the snark he gets back.

The snark that lands in the bruised parts of him and blooms fresh pain.

"I—right, yeah." Awkwardly he sets the cake down and shifts his weight. "What're you doing here?"

"It's your birthday so I baked you a cake because you're an idiot who broke my heart and I hate you but I love you more than I hate you and I wanted to tell you that," Evan says in an angry rush. "And I'm so mad at you, so fucking mad, Tommy. This last week—I've hated it. I miss you. It's like you gave me everything I ever wanted and then you just took it away from me and I fucking hate you for doing that."

Tommy swallows, throat dry. "If it helps, I hate myself too."

"No that doesn't help," Evan snaps, eyes tracking over him. "Jesus, have you even showered since last week?"

"Yes," he says, a little annoyance slipping into his tone. "I'm not a child."

Evan snorts and bends down to grab the blanket, shaking it out before folding it in rough sweeps of his hands until it's folded neat and tidy on the couch. It looks like there's more he wants to say and he's not sure what to say first and Tommy should tell him to leave, to keep this break as clean as possible but walking away from Evan was the hardest thing he's ever done, he's not sure he can stomach Evan walking away from him.

And then, without any warning, the anger drains from Evan, just slides right out of him until he's soft and sad and so wide eyed that Tommy can't bear looking at him.

(He can't bear to look away either.)

"Why didn't you tell me it wasn't serious?" Evan asks, voice wobbling and fingers curling in the sleeves of his hoodie that Tommy recognizes as his own. "Why did you let me—? I don't understand what went wrong."

"Evan," he rasps. "Buck."

"Don't," Evan interrupts, angrily swiping at his eyes. "Don't call me Buck. Don't ever call me that again, please. I can't—not from you."

"I'm sorry," Tommy says, uselessly. "I'm so sorry. I just wanted...you scare the shit out of me. You could—Jesus, Evan, the way you could break me without even realizing it...I'm terrified."

"So you thought you'd break me first?" Evan demands, anger wet and burning. "Because you did. Congratulations. I'm fucking miserable because of you. Because you were too afraid to actually have a conversation with me about what you wanted and needed and you just let me rush forward thinking we were both on the same page. And all this time you had one foot out the door."

Tommy shakes his head. "No, that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm not someone's forever!" The words snap out of him, cracking like a whip, and Evan blinks, startled. "I'm the guy that gets you there, alright? I'm the guy that shows you how it should be and then someone else, someone better, gets to be your forever."

Evan's mouth opens and then shuts, a frown pinching between his eyes that are focused on Tommy. "I didn't...how could there be someone better than you?"

"Evan," he sighs. "Please, don't."

"No, tell me, I want to know." Evan's stepping into his personal space, grabbing his hands and pulling him the rest of the way. And he burns at Evan's touch, at his warmth, at realizing that what he thought was the last time they touched wasn't it. "Who's going to love me like you do? Because you love me. I know you do. You haven't said it but I think I get why now but I know it. So tell me, who's going to love me as good as you do?"

"Evan, please."

His plea falls on deaf ears because Evan's right there, pale-skinned and smudges beneath his eyes from restless sleep, and Tommy wants to keep him there forever.

"I can't do it again," he whispers. "I can't let you go again."

"Then don't," Evan tells him. "I don't want you to. I don't want to explore my sexuality or whatever bullshit you think I need to do to be queer enough for a life with you. I just want you. Can't we just, I don't know, figure out the rest of it together?"

"Evan—"

He's weakening and he knows it. Worse, Evan knows it.

"We'll slow down, we'll go so slowly this time," Evan tells him, pressing his case and his body closer so that the warmth of his breath washes over Tommy's stale mouth. "We'll talk, properly. Maybe—maybe we could see a couple's therapist? Because I want you to be my last. I don't want anyone else. Please don't make me look for someone. Please."

"Evan." His body trembles. "I'm scared."

"I know," Evan says, soft like he's gentling a spooked horse. "But you can be scared with me, right? That's what it's about, yeah? Sharing the good things and the bad. I want both of them with you. I want everything with you. Will you please just—?"

Tommy kisses him and Evan immediately relaxes against him, the world righting itself around them, and he knows, right then, that Evan is his last, no matter what.

The voice echoes. He's coming in and out of it, desperate to open his eyes, desperate to make sure he can actually feel all his fingers and toes, but it's hard.

He knows that voice though. He knows he does.

The building hadn't been as stable as they thought it was. Probably in the investigation later on they'll discover building codes not up to standard, faulty evacuation plans. He got the kid out, though. He knows he got the kid out.

Eddie too, he's pretty sure.

".. uck!" The voice yells. It's kind of funny, he thinks to himself, as he can feel the strings of consciousness slipping, how much his name sounds like a curse when you're having a hard time keeping things straight. And then everything fades to black.

---

---

"Buck, please. Just wake up."

He wants to, is the thing. It's not like he's not trying, he wants to tell the voice, wants to be a little petulant about it too. That feels like the right attitude to have, for some reason.

It's hard to breathe. Might be something has him pinned. He'd seen beams falling, he's pretty sure.

"Goddamnit!" the voice yells, and Buck strains to remember. "I can't move this fucking thing unless you're able to get out from under it on your own, so wake the hell up. C'mon. Give me something to work with."

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

i don't know that i'm satisfied with how this ends, but the stills got me thinking more about the idea of Maddie being the one who tells Buck that he needs to call Tommy, and then I was already working on a coffee date recreation, so have this:

-

Maddie looks at the loaves of bread spread out on the counter and then back up at her brother, tilting her head to the side. 

“Evan. I thought you said you were doing okay,” she states, leaning up at against the counter next to her husband. 

“I am,” he insists. 

“So why are there four loaves of bread on the counter,” Chimney asks, confused. “That seems like you’re overloading your schedule to occupy your time.” 

“I’m not,” Evan counters, looking back and forth between them. They both stare back at him skeptically. 

“Dude, come on,” Chimney insists. “I know that sweater you had on the other night was one of Tommy’s. Between that, the lack of shaving, and now the abundance of food-..”

“I’m dealing,” Evan insists. Maddie sighs, looking over at her husband. He raises his hands and picks up his wine glass before glancing between them. 

“I’m gonna go see what’s on the sports channel,” he states before walking out of the room and into the living room. Maddie moves closer to Evan, rounding the counter. 

“I’m fine,” he repeats, but when Maddie looks up at him with that face—the one that tells him she isn’t buying the shit he’s selling—he sighs and shakes is head. “I mean I should be, shouldn’t I? It’s not like we were together that long.” 

“Six months,” Maddie states. 

Evan nods. “Yeah, and? I mean I was with Taylor for longer. She actually moved in here.” 

Maddie stares at him for a moment and then furrows her brow at him. “Wait, what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” Evan insists. “It doesn’t mean anything when Tommy doesn’t think I’d stay with him anyway.” 

“No, no, it clearly means something,” Maddie counters. “I’m not letting you drop it that easily. Talk to me. Tell me what actually happened.” 

Evan huffs, leaning against the counter. 

“We were talking about Abby, and I was telling him how that relationship had been transformative for me, at least until I met him, a-and then I told him that I wanted him to move in with me.” 

“Okay,” Maddie replies, processing his words. “And you told him you love him, right?” 

Evan stares at her as though she’s gone Blue Screen on him and she bobs her head forward, gaping at him slightly. 

“Evan.” She comments. “You told him how you feel, right?” 

“I- I thought- I mean we-..” 

“Okay, I’m sorry, I can’t fake that I’m not paying attention this long,” Chimney states as he crosses back into the kitchen. “You asked Tommy to move in with you without telling him how you feel about him?” 

“I told him I admire him,” Evan argues. 

Maddie inhales a deep breath and shakes her head, trying to remain composed as she returns to Chimney’s side. “What exactly did you say to him?” 

Evan gulps, but then proceeds to explain to both Maddie and Chimney was he said, trying his best not to paraphrase. By the time he’s finished, Maddie and Chimney are looking at each other, both of their jaws slack. 

After a moment, Chimney turns back toward his glass of wine and picks it up and takes a long sip from it. 

“Yeah, I think I might’ve broken up with you too,” Chimney states when he sets the glass back down. 

“What the hell,” Evan counters, waving a hand out at him. 

“Look, Buck, you ran over him like the proverbial steam roller. And I’m sorry, but from the way it sounds, it comes across as being told that you want to live with him because he’s great at being gay and that makes you feel good,” Maddie explains. 

“Not to mention the Brandon of it all,” Chimney mutters, lifting his drink to take another sip. He raises an eyebrow when both Buckley siblings turn toward him. 

“The who?” “Huh?” 

Chimney takes a deep breath, mouthing an ‘oh’ before setting his glass back down. “This is why I’m not allowed to know things,” he mutters. He shakes his head. “Brandon was this kid Tommy dated around the time he was leaving the 118.” 

“I thought he wasn’t out yet,” Evan interjects. 

“He wasn’t,” Chimney answers with a nod. “But Brandon was this kid out of another house, one of the ones Tommy had looked at transferring to, I think. Anyway, you could tell after Gerrard and Sal were gone that he was loosening up and becoming more comfortable with himself, and even though he wasn’t quite there yet, he was getting there.” 

“So?” Evan asks. 

“So, three months into it, he tells me over beers that the guy wants to move in together, make all these plans for the future, is talking about buying a house. The whole nine yards. But Brandon was just coming out of a divorce, with a woman. Sold Tommy the moon, and T went for it. Gave up the place he was in, moved in with this guy into his apartment that he also was sharing with his two kids part-time.” 

Evan gulps, because he can see the writing on the wall. 

“See, Brandon hadn’t been with other men before. And they lasted about three months longer before Tommy found out that he was seeing other people. He alternated between mine and Sal’s couch for a month after that until he got the place he’s in now.” 

“He was in love with him,” Evan surmises in a rasp. 

“He thought he’d found the person he was supposed to be with,” Chimney says with a nod. “And when I tell you it took him years to get over that-..” 

“Fuck,” Evan mutters under his breath, leaning more against the island. 

Maddie waits a moment, glancing back and forth between her brother and her husband before she finally speaks up again. 

“So to be clear, I understand why Tommy panicked and took off, but why would you skip over actually telling him how you feel,” she asks. “I mean you have to get that that’s important. It probably would’ve made a massive difference in the conversation.” 

Evan inhales a deep breath and shakes his head, looking down at the counter. 

“Oh,” Maddie states. “You’re scared too.” 

He looks back up at her, his expression somber. “I mean people leave me. A-and that’s exactly what he did.” 

“Buck,” she coaxes, rounding the counter again. She runs her hand up his back as her other hand curls around the inside of his bicep. “You can’t be mad at him for being scared if you can’t also be honest about how you’re feeling.” 

He glances up at her, and his eyes are so sad that it makes her want to go into her mothering role and order him to call Tommy. 

“What if he won’t listen to me,” he rasps. She leans against his shoulder and gives him a sympathetic look. 

“I mean, I’ve never heard you even mention wanting to marry someone else,” she replies softly. “That’s gotta be worth something, right?” 

Evan stares down at the counter again. 

“You should call him,” Chimney interjects, when they look back up at him, he’s taking another sip of his wine. Maddie just chuckles at him before squeezing Evan’s arm and nodding. She leans up and kisses his cheek. 

“Call him.” 

. . . 

Evan pulls his jacket tighter around his body as he settles into the cafe chair. He’s not entirely sure Tommy will show, even though the other man had texted he would. He can’t help but feel the weight that’s been making it’s home in his chest just a little heavier right now. A week ago, they were celebrating six months from that first kiss, and somehow he’s finding himself sitting at a different café, but still, six months from the day that he’d asked Tommy to be his date to his sister’s wedding. 

So much is different now, though. He didn’t have to guess Tommy’s coffee order because he knows it by heart. There’s a box in his car filled with belongings that he really doesn’t want to give back, but if this discussion doesn’t go in the right direction, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. 

Still, he can’t stop thinking about the guy on the crane from the day before, and how after they’d gotten him off to the hospital, all Evan could think about was how his people had banded around him in the aftermath. His team had kept him alive, and then they’d remained vigilant at his side while he healed. He’d had people show up in his corner every step of the way. It’s not lost on him now that Tommy has faced a life primarily without that same feeling, and that unlike him, Tommy didn’t find a forged family at work. Plus, then there’s the information he learned about the ex-boyfriend, and all of it has him seeing Tommy in an entirely different lens. 

“Hey.” Tommy’s voice is raspier, sadder than the last time he heard it as he comes around the corner of the building. Evan still perks up at the sight of him, although he’s more subdued than the last time they met up like this. 

“Hey,” he replies softly, gesturing toward the chair across from him. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me.” 

Tommy nods, and there’s a rush of pain in Evan’s chest at the lack of of course. 

“I got you a coffee,” he adds, gesturing towards it on the table. Tommy pulls his chair out and sits down. 

“Thanks,” he says, though there’s no mirth in his tone like there was that first time.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” Evan states nervously as Tommy takes a sip of the drink. There’s the slightest twitch around his mouth—one the younger man has come to recognize as Tommy thinking that it tastes right. He’s very particular on his flavor and cream-to-sugar ratio, so knowing he’s still getting right gives Evan a flush of pride. “The last time we met like this, I said there was a lot of that we didn’t know about each other.” 

“Practically everything,” Tommy parrots so softly, it barely has any vocal tone in it. Evan nods. 

“Except, I do know things about you now,” Evan counters. “I know- I know that you don’t like to be awake before seven AM if you’re not on shift. I know that you think the perfect setting for the thermostat is always sixty-six, no matter what time of year it is. I know that you take three creamers and the tiniest dash of cinnamon in your coffee.” 

“Buck-..” 

“Let me finish,” Evan counters, cringing at the way that name sounds coming out of Tommy’s mouth. He takes a deep breath and looks around them before continuing. “I know your mom died when you were six, and your dad blamed you for it. I know you spent the next eleven years trying to do anything you could to keep him appeased and a target off your back, including stuffing down who you are so far down that it took you over a decade to crawl back out of that toxic mindset. And I know that all of that left you with scars, even though you don’t talk about them. I know-…I know that you would rather run because it’s easier to protect yourself than sign up for the possibility of getting hurt again.” Evan pauses and gulps as Tommy stares at him, looking very uncomfortable. 

“So I need to apologize,” he says with a breath. 

Tommy furrows his brow at him, baffled by the statement. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“Yes, Tommy, I do,” Evan counters, this time more insistent than he had been on that first coffee date.“I  threw a lot at you that night. I- I know that I told you I wanted to move in together, and that I was talking about a future without any practicality behind it because I just lept with both feet like I always do.” 

“I didn’t call things off because of your impulsivity,” Tommy counters. “I did it because-..” 

“Because you’ve been down that road before,” Evan finishes for him. “And it ended badly. I know that about you, too. And, the way I sounded that night…it wasn’t what I should’ve said.” 

“Okay?” Tommy acquiesces. 

Evan takes another breath and leans forward in his seat, gesturing at the space between them. “You said that when I asked you to move in with me, that I was still figuring myself out, and that everything was still new and exciting for me. And the thing is, you’re right, and you’re wrong. You’re right that things are new and exciting, but not because they’re with a man; it’s because they’re with you. And six months ago when I told you that I didn’t know what I was ready for, that was true, but now I do. It’s not about being ready for something different, Tommy, it’s about being ready for something different with you. S-so when I say I lept with both feet the other night without thinking, I missed a step in there.” 

Tommy stares at him apprehensively, giving him the space to continue. Evan sits up a little straighter. 

“I got so caught up in the process of commenting on the ways things have changed and all that you’ve done to get yourself to where you are now that I never stopped to consider how it would sound coming out of my mouth. A-and part of that was because I thought if I just convinced you to stay with me, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad if you decided that I was too much.” 

Tommy leans back in his seat, eyes widening slightly at Evan’s words. 

“I um, I know about Brandon,” he states. “And on the subject of exes, I never told you about Taylor, or how Lucy played into of how things ended with her.” He inhales a breath and then proceeds to explain Lucy’s time at the 118, their shared kiss, and how he’d been living with Taylor at the time. “And the thing is, when I moved in with her and told her I loved her, it was from a selfish place, o-of wanting to keep her around because people just kept leaving, and I couldn’t stand to lose anyone else.” 

Tommy lets out a soft sigh and leans forward. “Evan.” 

Evan shakes his head. “No. Don’t- it’s not- I’m not saying all of that because I’m chasing after you to keep you from leaving. I- I mean I am, but not like that. I mean to say that, I trapped Taylor, however unintentionally, with the idea that if she was with me, that I could make it work. Eventually, it got to the point where I couldn’t keep trying to make the pieces fit, and we split up.” 

Tommy nods. 

“But this isn’t that,” Evan continues. “This has never been that. I asked you to move in with me because I want to be with you day and night. B-because I see a future with you, and because nothing has ever felt as right as this has felt. And I understand that maybe- no, it was moving too fast. And that I skipped right over the part where I should’ve told you that I want to be with you not because it feels good or because I think you being gay makes me better at being bisexual, or anything like that. I want to be with you because I’m in love with you.” 

Tommy takes a deep breath at his statement. 

“I don’t expect you to say it back if you’re not there, a-and I don’t expect you to move in with me. That was an impulsive decision. But I’m not in a place where I’m ready to give up on this,” he states. “I love you enough that I’m willing to go at your pace this time.” 

Tommy stares at him for a beat, quiet and contemplative. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Am I sure that I love you?” Evan counters. “That I’m pretty positive on.” 

The response forces a small smile onto Tommy’s face. After a breath, he gives a small nod. 

“Okay.” 

“Yeah?” Evan asks him. 

Tommy gulps and nods. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Because I love you, too.” 

Evan grins at him, at this time, it’s Tommy who reaches across the table and grabs his hand, squeezing it. 

A smutty little bucktommy drabble, because I am determined to live in a world where the end of 8x06 never happened. :)

❖❖❖❖❖❖

A trembling gasp slips free, exhaled against the pillow beneath his head. He’s caught there, barely able to breathe or think or do much of anything at all. 

Only taking what he’s given.

Lips brush over his temple, a gentle contrast to the hands gripping his hips. Pulling him back into every thrust that sets his body alight. He’s flying and falling all at once, as desperate pleas rise in his throat yet only whimpers and moans fall from his lips.

“That’s it,” that familiar voice croons in his ear, teeth tugging at his lobe. “Doing so good for me.”

Those hands grip him tighter, and that mouth latches onto the junction of his neck and shoulder, sucking and nipping and doing all he can to bring a beautiful smear of colors to the surface of his skin.

In a Hurry to Get Things Done

(thanks for this)

Hearing Tommy call him “Buck” is what spurs him into action.

Tommy must not have been expecting him to get up after he's said his piece, because when he does, Tommy doesn’t move. Buck easily wraps his fingers around Tommy’s wrist, and he hears a slight inhale as he does so.

Buck tilts his head, frozen in place except for his fingers clutching Tommy’s wrist. He feels his jaw pop open a touch, his eyebrows raised, before he says, quietly, “‘Buck’?”

Tommy splutters, thrown off by the sudden change in events. “That’s your name, I mean—”

“Tommy,” Buck’s voice is pitched dangerously low. “You’ve never called me Buck before. Don’t start now.” He licks his lips and tracks Tommy's eyes as they follow the movement.

“Evan,” Tommy starts, and they both sigh with the comfort of hearing the name. He makes to say something else, but Buck is on him in a flash.

They each groan into the kiss, teeth clashing and touches bruising. Buck pulls back, looking into Tommy's heavily lidded eyes. “You don't call me Buck and I don't call you Thomas.” Tommy exhales just barely.

“I don't go by Thomas in my daily life, though,” he retorts.

Buck holds his gaze, and there's a lick of fire in his veins that's coming alive. Tommy always played well against his bratty nature, and there's no denying the sass he feels coming up now. “You don't go through life with people calling you ‘Daddy,’ either, do you? But you like when I call you that name just fine, huh?” Tommy's eyes flutter as soon as he says it.

“Ev-Buck. We shouldn't —” He's cut off by Buck's lips once more, who's already palming him through his jeans.

“Shouldn't what, Daddy?” Buck's hand moves to the button, the zipper, and begins to shove Tommy's pants to the floor. “If we're just going to go around making some decisions tonight, why not this one?”

if I'm honest I think that Tommy is okay for a while. I don't think he cries or breaks down when he leaves. I think he goes home and cracks a beer and doesn't think. he wakes up the next morning and goes to work and doesn't think. he sends a text in the harbor gc: plans changed. free this weekend and doesn't think, doesn't even respond to the barrage of ??? He works on his truck, finally power washes his deck, and upgrades the weather stripping in his house and he's fine.

But then he lets his guard down. He catches the Lakers game on TV at the station and he wonders if Evan is there. He spots Evan's aftershave in a CVS and swears he can still smell the way it clung to his skin. He turns the overhead fan on before bed, and it strikes him that he'd picked up the habit when Evan had started sleeping over and just hadn't stopped. And each crack that forms splits him open a little more every time. He copes, but it's harder now. He skips nights out and stops going to Muay Thai. He's tired and he can't help but ache for the nights that Evan would stay with him, arms around him, tight and too hot, but loving and so sweet. He tries to throw himself into work as much as he can but he can't stop thinking about what he lost. What he gave up on.

And then I think he waits. He sits with the hurt for as long as he can, content, in a way, to keep it contained to himself. He tries to control the spread because the last thing he wants is to break Evan like this. And he manages, but he doesn't get over it. How could he? But when he crosses paths with Evan again, a few weeks or months later, he sees the same splinters and he thinks about how those cracks are from him. His responsibility. And the sudden desire to mend them burns hot enough that he can't stop himself from asking how are you? Are you broken like me? Can I fix it? Please let me fix it. I know how. I'm good with my hands, I'll stop any more damage.

And when Evan looks at him, takes his hands, and responds as long as you'll let me fix yours the rush of it hits him. The color comes sweeping back into his world and he cries. How could he not? And he feels Evan's hands on his cheeks, brushing the tears away, and he's okay.

henry was planned. they spent six months choosing the perfect egg donor and then another 2 months finding their perfect surrogate monica. buck planned everything down to the second. his nursery was decorated and furniture was built month four. wardrobe filled with clothes and drawers filled with diapers and other supplies by month six. he was even born on his due date - Christmas Eve.

henry’s younger sister rosie, however, was anything but planned. where henry was born from surrogacy, rosie was a safe haven baby.

buck was busy cleaning the ladder one afternoon late summer when a young girl, barely nineteen came by the firehouse. she looked so fragile and lost and she was holding the smallest baby buck thinks he has ever seen. she places the baby in his arms before dumping a diaper bag next to his feet, pleading with him to take the baby. please I can’t do this, i don’t have anyone to help me. I can’t do this alone. please just make sure she goes to someone good.

and before buck could even think to say anything, he was alone, in the middle of the station, holding this baby girl who has the thickest head of dark hair and the sweetest button nose and he swears she look’s exactly like tommy.

then eddie and chimney come rushing cover to figure out what the hell just happened and buck is just stood there, utterly shell shocked. chimney guides buck to the ambulance so he can check her over and noticed how bucks arms tighten around her just for a moment when he tries to reach to take the baby from him. chimney throws eddie a knowing look leading to eddie to immediately pull out his phone to call tommy bc he knows what’s about to happen.

a few hours go by, after the baby had been given the all clear, buck was sitting on the couch with the small girl resting against his chest - waiting for CPS to come. he watches as she rests so peacefully against him, her face scrunching ever so slightly as she moved her small body before relaxing against him once more.

from the corner of his eye he could see his husband making his way up the stairs, with that look of love and fondness he wears whenever he see’s buck with henry. he kneels down in front of him, pressing his hand on the back of the baby, rubbing small circles on her softly with his thumb and smiles because he knows.

and after applying for an emergency foster license and months of paper work and court hearings, rosie madeline buckley-kinard officially joins their family.

henryverse

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

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Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

hi @rcmclachlan, i'm still thinking about this, so might i add:

The thing is, yes, Evan is a sex monster starting week twenty. Yes, Tommy’s dick is quickly starting to chafe in a way he’s not sure the human body can recover from. Yes, it’s a pain so exquisite that Tommy is starting to understand whatever the fuck Hellraiser is supposed to be about.

It’s also becoming a torture of his own making. He can’t help himself. Their schedules gift them two days in a row together each week, typically the last two days off for Evan and the first two days off for Tommy. They go to sleep together those nights and wake up together those mornings, and Tommy can’t keep his hands to his fucking self. Evan’s finally starting to show and he’s got this sweet little bump that Tommy's convinced grows ever so slightly each time they have twenty-four hours away from each other, and Tommy can’t stop touching it.

It’s like a fork to the thigh to make sure he isn’t dreaming, the feral possessiveness that rips through him whenever he gets his hands on Evan’s stomach and thinks about the part of himself that’s in there, growing. At the start of Buck’s libido taking over his brain, before either of them had known any better, Tommy had woken up from a nap to find Evan meal prepping in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant, God, and Tommy came up behind him and slid his hands around to hold Evan’s bump, fingers touching. He’d meant to tease, said, “You make such a sweet looking housewife, Ev,” and instead of getting a ha-ha very funny and elbow to the gut, Evan had shuddered and groaned fuck before spinning around in Tommy’s arms to drag him into one of the top five filthiest open mouthed kisses of Tommy’s life.

It took less than a minute for Evan to perch himself halfway up the kitchen counter, long legs climbing over Tommy’s shoulders begging to be fucked, nodding down at where Tommy’s hands still held his belly, chanting, “Keep them there, keep them there, hold me just like this.”

This morning, Tommy does know better, but he finds his touch sprawling out through the muted fog of sleep to trace the swell of Evan’s stomach anyway.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Kinard.” Evan blinks one eye open and looks at him, calculated. He knows Tommy’s been trying to keep pace, and with the exception of the first time after every long shift, they’ve been a lot more creative lately just to give Tommy’s dick a break. But there’s something about how whenever Tommy touches him right there, where Evan’s body is becoming a home, he needs to claim part of Tommy back.

Evan shifts over and slides one leg over Tommy so that he’s seated right on top, half-hard dick snug between the curve of his baby bump and Tommy’s own tight abs. He shifts his hips just enough to say hello, and Tommy can feel himself chubbed up in the crease of his ass. Don’t start something you can’t finish, but it’s clearly too late for that. Evan’s always the needy kind of slutty first thing in the morning, and Tommy, neglecting all self-preservation instincts, has just done his best to encourage him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Tommy says, “take what you need. I’ve got you.”

The way Evan beams down on him, milky morning sunlight filtering through his bedhead curls and lighting up every angle of his face, is enough to have him welcoming the inevitable ache. There are worse ways to die.