NOW
Dating Evan is the easiest thing he’s ever done, and the most complicated.
It helps that they have similar jobs. He never has to explain a shift that runs over, or why he can’t promise to be somewhere on time after work. They both know the ways it can f*ck you up, mentally and physically.
Evan’s leg aches after long shifts where it’s one call after another and there’s no chance to ever just sit down. He never says anything, but Tommy’s not oblivious, notices when Evan’s usual post-work sprawl is replaced with restlessness, the way he rubs at his thigh like he’s trying to work out a knot. “Did you pull something?” he finally asks.
Evan looks uneasy when he admits. “No, just my leg. From the accident. It hurts sometimes when I’ve done too much.” After you had your leg crushed under a firetruck Tommy amends mentally and gets up to throw a heat pack in the microwave. Evan looks honestly surprised by both the heat pack and the fact that Tommy’s not making a big deal about it. Tries to apologize. “I…umm, Taylor hated it.” Only cared about herself, Tommy corrects in his head. Evan adds after a moment. “Ali left because of it.”
He shrugs. “I’m not them.” Points at the TV. “Pay attention. This is a good bit.”
After a bad call, bad outcome, Evan sits on the couch with him, and doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t tell Tommy that it wasn’t his fault. Doesn’t suggest that maybe he’ll feel better if he takes a shower. Doesn’t offer to try and take his mind off of it. Knows there’s not really anything to say, knows that Tommy did his best. And Tommy does a thing he’s never let himself do in front of someone else before. He cries.
There’s some common ground they build from: they both love podcasts, listening to them has always helped him stay sane in LA’s endless cycle of sh*tty traffic. Evan makes them go through their respective subscriptions one afternoon -- adding ones to his list from Tommy’s, telling Tommy he needs to be listening to 99% Invisible like yesterday. Evan has apparently never seen a movie made before about 2016, but has seen every Suzie Izzard special about seven times, which is great because Tommy’s never had a boyfriend who understood Izzard as shorthand for an entire conversation before.
Evan stops by basketball now more often than he doesn’t -- brings a drink and heckles from the sideline. Eddie grouses that, “Buck never offered to drive me home from a game. What do you have that I don’t Kinard?”
He raises his eyebrows at Eddie, who entertainingly blushes and flaps a hand at him. “Yeah yeah, don’t tell me, I don’t need that kind of visual in my head.”
One of the other guys has a thing for the rules, keeps trying to treat their rec level pick up game like it’s the NBA. Chim likes to argue with him. Evan seems to take sides more based on which one will rile Chimney up more than any kind of interest in the letter of the law. Shouts across the court at Chimney one day, “‘C’mon Chim, this is not a democracy, it’s a cheerocracy.”
It makes Chim stop dead and turn around to stare at Evan. “This? This you know? Never seen Casablanca, or the Princess Bride, but Bring It On you know?”
Evan shrugs. “Hooked up with a cheerleader for the Lakers once. Had to do my research. Plus, Eliza Dushku’s hot.”
Chim throws up his hands in disgust, and Tommy takes advantage of his distraction to dunk on him. Turns and grins at Evan, because he has to.
It’s easy. Easier than any other relationship he’s ever had, or tried to have. Thinks Evan feels the same way, because sometimes he catches Evan watching him with a kind of wide-eyed wonder, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to have this. Admits one night, in the safety of bed, and the honesty that comes with the cover of darkness, “I didn’t think it could be like this. I thought it always had to feel like work.”
But it’s not always easy. It can’t be. They both come with baggage (and god f*cking damn Rent, because he can never think those words without getting the song stuck in his head for three days after). They've both got hidden tripwires that they stumble across; IEDs buried in the sand waiting to explode.
THEN
He loses his virginity to his best friend when he’s 17. He has a plan; he’s going to enlist in a month and he’s heard the stories. He’s watched the movies. He doesn’t want to be in the barracks and not have his own stories to tell.
Dave Matthews Band is on the cd player and she tries. He tries.
It’s terrible.
It’s not his first inkling that maybe this isn’t for him, but it is the biggest. They stay friends, because it was never about that for them; it was something she did for him, and because she was curious, too.
He enlists the day he turns eighteen. It's expected. "There's been a Kinard in the Navy since 1896," his grandfather likes to say.
He enlists in the Army.
He's not actually particularly invested in the Army per se. But, he wants out of that house, and his grades are good, but not full ride scholarship good. Pushes his rebellion as far as he thinks he can and still get to go home to see his little sister.
"You're breaking your mother's heart," his father says when he sees the papers. Tommy thinks his mother stopped caring about anything a while ago, but doesn't argue. Leaves for Basic the day the rest of his class graduates. He doesn’t care much for the pomp and circ*mstance, and certainly won’t miss anyone there.
He puts his head down and he gets through Basic, endures it, comes out with a better understanding of himself, and with men he'd call friends if not family. He doesn't fall in love until they dangle aviation in front of him.
And then he falls hard. Thinks flying might be the love of his life.
"If you want to fly, the Navy has pilots," his sister says, the last time he's home before he ships out to warrant school in Alabama. He knows she's thinking of Top Gun. Tells her his life doesn't actually involve that many topless sweaty volleyball games. Does not tell her he thinks he might enjoy it if it did.
NOW
He builds a pub quiz team with people from the gym. Jerry for business/econ, Brian for music, Gina for movies and pop culture. Henry is a lawyer by day, an MMA fighter by night. He's got their poli sci and history section on lock, but he can also surprise them all, like the time he knew the 23rd word of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song off the top of his head. (the word was just , for the record).
He worried about bringing Evan — the team’s been pretty solid for going on five years now, and he worries that Evan’ll feel out of place. Knows how hard it can be to try and fit yourself into a group that knows each other, has a shared language of in-jokes and references. Turns out he really shouldn’t have worried.
Evan wins his place on the team before the first round’s even over. Throws out the answers for two wildly different topics. Tommy enjoys feeling smug about the look Gina gives him as she writes down the answers.
Feels even smugger when Evan offers up a case precedent that has even Henry looking blank.
In the lull between rounds while they count the points Gina turns to Evan. "Okay, spill. What's your story?"
Evan looks nonplussed. "I'm a firefighter?"
She waves a hand impatiently. "Yeah, I know that. We all know that. Tommy won't shut up about you." Tommy glares at her and steals the last wing in retaliation for throwing him under the bus like that, although Evan looks so delighted at tangible proof that Tommy talks about him to his friends that it's hard to get really annoyed. "No, I want to know why you know the etymology of the name guinea pig. How you knew that precedent before Henry." She tsks mildly in Henry’s direction. He ignores her.
Evan shrugs. “I get insomnia sometimes, end up down internet rabbit holes. It sticks.” He looks contemplative for a moment. “I was never actually good at school, but I like knowing things.”
This doesn’t actually surprise Tommy all that much, he suspects trying to corral Evan’s restless curiosity into something that resembles a curriculum is more than most public school teachers have time for.
They tie the Legal Eagles -- unofficially their nemesis -- and the quiz goes to a tie breaker. The team looks at him expectantly when the question is, “In what year did the Navy first have a goat as their mascot?”
He gives them a look. “I was Army.”
“Go Army, beat Navy,” Evan says absently, and Tommy snorts in appreciation. And then Evan adds, after a moment’s thought. “1890. Although they didn’t start calling them all Bill until like,” he frowns, “1914? 1916? Something like that.”
Gina writes it down without so much as a question and hands it to the announcer. Tommy just stares at Evan. Because he’s familiar with Evan’s focused encyclopedic knowledge on odd topics, but this seems random even for him. “Why do you know that? I don’t know that, and I grew up in a Navy family.”
Gina smacks him. “You said you were Army.”
He flicks a finger at her without looking away from Evan.. “I was Army. For a reason.”
Evan scratches his eyebrow. “Before I joined the Marines, I read up on the history of each branch to help pick.”
Tommy's jaw doesn't hit the ground, but it's a close thing. "You were in the Marines?"
"For a hot second -- I washed out of Basic. They wanted me to turn off my brain, or my empathy.” Both probably, Tommy thinks dryly. “I couldn’t do it, “ he pauses, “Or didn’t want to, I guess.”
And that tracks, but now Tommy wants to see Evan in his Marine PT kit and his go-fasters, and oh, he needs to stop thinking about this RIGHT now. Pulls out his phone and adds Marines to the list he’d started keeping of all the jobs Evan’s mentioned that he’s done. He should share it with Hen and Chim and Eddie, see if there are any he’s missed.
The announcer is presenting their winnings when he hooks his finger in Evan's belt loops, tells Jerry that they'll be back in a minute and drags him into the bathroom. Thank god for California's single occupancy laws. Evan looks startled, and then delighted, lets Tommy crowd him up against the door, tucks his hands into Tommy’s back pockets and rolls his body up into Tommy in a lazy grind. “Why Mr. Kinard, you wouldn’t be suggesting something untoward, would you?”
He slots a thigh between Evan’s legs and pushes up. “I’m suggesting I jerk you off in this bathroom, unless you have any objections.”
Evan laughs at him, and leans in to bite at the corner of Tommy’s jaw. He can feel Evan getting hard against his thigh, and his breath catches, and Tommy doesn’t think he has any objections. He doesn’t take his eyes off Evan, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly -- the jangle of buckle and zip obscenely loud. He swallows Evan’s moan when he slides a hand into his briefs.
THEN
He meets Drew getting their pilot certification. They don’t have any time, they never sleep. They depend on each other to get to class, to get through PT, to not murder the idiots around them.
After their first solo flights, they’re alone in the locker room. There’s energy buzzing under his skin, so much adrenaline he feels like he could take off without the plane. The smile stretched wide across Drew’s face says he feels the same.
He steels his nerve and goes in for a kiss, and Drew just looks at him when he pulls back. He feels like he’s going to throw up, but Drew just shrugs and gestures down, “I mean, if you want, I wouldn’t say no.”
Tommy slides to his knees.
After it’s over, Drew pulls on his clothes with a, “Thanks, man. Any time you want to do that, just let me know,” and smacks him on the ass as he walks out.
Tommy never tries to kiss him again, gets the message that it’s a step too far, loud and clear. It’s not serious. It’s not really anything -- mostly hand jobs, just two guys helping each other out. Sometimes he goes to his knees though, and tries not to think about how much he loves it. Loves the taste, and the heat, and the weight of it on his tongue. The way it stretches his jaw, and he can walk away feeling the ache. He loves the smell, nose pushed in tight against sweaty pubes, thick and musky in the back of his throat. He loves the way Drew’s hand grabs his head and holds him there and makes him take it.
They don’t see each other after training. Tommy gets assigned to Wheeler. Drew gets assigned to Fort Liberty. Drew tells him Tommy better learn how to surf while he’s in Hawaii. Tommy tells him to enjoy the BBQ in North Carolina. There’s a graduation/send off party. They’re never alone long enough for him to say anything, and in the end they leave with a slap on the back and a vague, “See you around sometime.”
He has a week’s leave between the end of flight training and when he’s supposed to show up at his new post. He goes home for a long weekend, and then lies and says he’s due on base on Tuesday instead of next Monday. Flies into San Francisco, because it’s the best stop on the way to Hawaii if anyone asks, and plans for a long layover. There’s an itch under his skin, and this might be the last week he has where nobody is going to ask where he is in a long time. San Francisco feels like a cliche, but he figures cliches exist for a reason, and well, he doesn’t know anyone in SF, and there’s no military base here any more. It feels safely anonymous for what he wants to do.
He tells himself that he’s not looking for anything specific. Knows that’s a lie.
He goes out to a bar in the Castro in his tightest jeans, tightest t-shirt. He knows what he looks like. He dances, and he drinks, and he lets himself get picked up by the first guy who doesn’t actively creep him out. It’s not a high standard, but he’s working on a timeline here.
It’s fine. Confirms what he’d basically already known.
Goes back out the next night. Gets cruised by a pretty boy in makeup and heels and not a whole lot else. It’s not what he’d have thought was his type, but he’s not sure he knows enough yet to have a type, and the pick up line makes him laugh.
Goes home with Theo. Doesn’t know if that’s his real name. Doesn’t care. Doesn’t give his real name, just in case. Readjusts his expectations with a wrench when Theo taps him on the hip and tells him to roll over. It’s the first time he gets f*cked. Theo’s maybe not quite as careful as he could be — although in fairness, Tommy’s pretty sure Theo doesn’t know that this is his first time — and it hurts, but he shoves back and wants more, feels like there’s some essential circuit in his brain that just connected.
Theo returns the favor the next morning, and that’s good too. They spend the next three days together, f*cking and drinking their way through the bars of the Castro. Tommy has no idea what Theo does for a living, and doesn’t volunteer much about himself either. When he leaves, he’s sore, and he has bruises in places he’ll need to hide for a few days, and better understanding of what he’s giving up when he reports to base on Monday morning.
The sky is still worth it.
NOW
Evan is confident in bed in a way that Tommy didn’t expect. He blames himself for equating new with inexperienced, which is on him.
Still, he makes them go slower than he knows Evan wants them to — checks in with Evan before every new thing until Evan finally loses patience. He's not pushy about it, just threads their hands together one night when they're half watching some military procedural on TV, patiently waits while Tommy bitches about what they're getting wrong, and then says, "You know I'm not going to run away screaming, right?"
Tommy pauses the episode. "I think I'm gonna need a little bit more than that."
Evan bites his lip, but he doesn't blush, or fumble his words like he does when he's nervous. "I promise I've done this before." Gestures between them. "Well, not this, precisely. But, I've had sex." Ducks his head. "A lot of sex actually." Looks up to make sure he catches Tommy's eye. "I like sex. I promise I will tell you if you do something I don't like. But, I also promise I'm not gonna run if you cross whatever invisible line you've got in your head."
He realizes with something like embarrassment that he’s been half thinking of Evan as a younger version of himself, and what’s been holding him back is that he doesn’t want Evan to have to go through any of the ways he learned about sex. But Evan’s not him. At all. Tommy spent 20 years pretending and hiding a thing he knew about himself the whole time. Evan genuinely hadn’t known until Tommy kissed him, but beyond that unfortunate first date, he has remarkably few hang ups about being out, about being with a man. He hears a couple of Evan’s stories and wonders how exactly Evan hadn’t known, but everyone’s got their own journey, and Evan’s here now.
Evan’s talks about sex in a way that Tommy wishes he’d ever learned how to do. He’d learned the language of Grindr, brutally direct about what he wants. But, what gets you laid on Grindr doesn’t work if you ever want to show your face around a guy again. Evan’s not casual about sex, but he’s casually honest about it. Tommy sometimes feels like he should be taking notes.
He doesn't like people touching his scars, they're not something he shares. One guy kept pressing on them and it's the only time Tommy actually rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes in the middle of something. He walked out, with the guy's, "but its hot!" ringing in his ears.
With Ethan, Lawrence, he'd been up front -- please just don't, and they'd understood, or at least they'd listened.
Evan has his shirt over his head and his mouth occupied before he can even say anything, and he's distracted, and then Evan's mouth brushes across his shoulder and he skyrockets up in bed, "Don't, don't--"
The others all said they understood. Evan's the first person he thinks actually does.
Evan pays attention to what Tommy likes. And draws conclusions. The right conclusions.
He pins Tommy's wrists to the bed one night, mostly to stop him from trying to pull Evan up for a kiss when Evan is intent on kissing his way down his chest. He notices when Tommy shudders and the way his breath hitches when Evan pushes his hands down into the sheets.
Evan raises his head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully and fits his hands — large, strong -- Tommy could probably break his grip if he had to, but it would take effort (the fact that Evan would let go long before that isn't the point) — more carefully over Tommy's wrists and tightens them experimentally. Tommy couldn't stop the sound he makes if he tried, and his dick jerks in counterpoint. "Hmm," Evan says, "you like that?"
After they’re done —sweaty, and sticky, and sated in all the right ways — Evan gets up and pulls some of his clothes back on, wanders into the kitchen and boils water for tea. Tommy rummages around the floor for his shirt, shorts, and meets him in the kitchen. They sit around his kitchen table and have an actual discussion about what just happened.
Tommy’s literally never done that before.
THEN
Who he likes to sleep with takes a back seat to his career. He likes the Army. He likes the camaraderie, and the order, likes the discipline. While he’s stateside the dipsh*t brass is an inconvenience, and a thing to bitch about on the weekends.
But there’s always the worry, the fear of being found out, of being noticed and questioned and not having the right answers. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell hides in the back of his mind, taunting him. He fakes it when he has to — flirts with girls in bars, tries to be the last one there so no one notices that he doesn't go home with them. Gets himself a reputation for a hard drinker and leans into it. Everyone likes him, but nobody wants to set their girlfriend’s friend up with him.
He takes girls out occasionally, not often, but enough that nobody makes a federal case out of trying to get him laid. Tries not to lead them on, make them think it's going to lead anywhere. Most of them get it. Angela had liked it — a hot, built guy who'd buy her drinks, and take her out to dinner, doesn’t really want to sleep with her. She never asked him why. He never asked her why either. Might be the longest relationship he's ever had.
Then 9/11 happens and suddenly nothing else matters at all — the army in peacetime is a different creature from one at war. Everything revs into high gear. He gets deployed to Afghanistan virtually overnight, doesn’t even get to tell his sister that he’s going until he’s already there.
Afghanistan is a sh*t show. Iraq is worse. The dipsh*t brass stop being an inconvenience and start getting people killed. But that’s when he meets his best friend and co-pilot, call sign Cherry, actual name Tom Reilly. They’re Tom and Tommy - Cherry and Cherub. He’s years away from being able to escape his eighteen year old baby face. Sometimes that’s annoying; sometimes it lets him slide under the radar and he’s grateful.
“You should change it to Cher, for me,” Tom says when they meet.
“I don’t really have the legs for it,” Tommy responds.
They’re eleven months into a six month deployment, one month from going home (for real, this time, his CO swears), when the sh*t hits the fan. It’s a milk run just outside Fallujah, or what passes for one, until they’re under fire. He thinks they got out, turns to look at Cherry once he’s landed when he realizes — no, they didn’t. Cherry’s coughing up blood, and then Tommy’s unclipping his belt, yelling on the radio for backup, telling Cherry that everything’s going to be okay, help’s on the way.
He dies with Tommy’s hands on him and Tommy has the undignified response of passing out next to him.
Blood loss. Turns out he was shot too, adrenaline (what a drug) powered him through.
He wakes up the second time in the hospital in Germany. Doesn’t process what the doctor says other than it could be years until he’s combat flight eligible again. Army gives him two options: honorable discharge or becoming a drone pilot. To fly without flying, to kill like it's a video game.
He takes the discharge. Doesn’t know what he wants to do, but knows it's not that.
He flies home to Maryland and isn’t there a week before one of his dad’s old friends hits him up to get into politics. He tells him, “You have the look, the family, the record” the tragedy, Tommy hears, “even if it is Army.” Informs him that a seat is opening up in the 27th; it had to be redrawn in the last round of court challenges and the incumbent knew he wasn’t getting elected again. Tommy tries to convince him he’s a pilot, not a politician, that he never even went to college, that he’s not their guy.
But really, he knows he'd need a wife, and kids, to show up to church on Sunday — and any stray thought he might ever have had about politics is buried under the knowledge that he could never force himself into that life, would never make anyone else live in that cage with him.
Instead he moves to Los Angeles, a continent away from everything and everyone he knows. He looks at the options, knows that he’d be a good candidate for Air Operations but can’t make himself fill out the application. He’s not sure he’s ready to think about being up in the air yet without Cherry. It feels like another thing the Army took from him.
NOW
Evan learns quickly, and Tommy’s not used to being the center of anyone’s attention like this before. It’s heady, and terrifying. Putting his trust in someone else. Letting himself be seen.
They’re making dinner one night, Tommy acting as Evan’s sous chef. Evan slides the lasagna into the oven and Tommy carries the cutting board to the sink, turns on the tap to start rinsing the dishes. Evan’s hands close over his, turns off the water. Evan’s body is a hard line against his back, solid and warm. He moves Tommy’s hands to the edge of the counter, “Keep these here,” he orders, voice a whisper against Tommy’s ear.
Tommy’s fingers clench tight.
Evan slides Tommy’s jeans down his thighs. It’s clear that Evan has something planned as he strips Tommy of his clothes.
“This seems unsanitary,” he protests, with no real urgency. Evan bites him hard in his ass cheek in response. And, oh, okay, they’re definitely going to have to come back to that later.
But Evan’s on a mission, he pushes Tommy’s feet apart to parade rest, puts a hand on his lower back and tips him just slightly forward — his hands are starting to ache with how hard he’s gripping the counter as a reminder to not move, not touch. He breathes hard through his nose.
He jumps at the first touch of Evan’s tongue, a soft whine escapes. He can feel Evan’s hands as they pull his cheeks apart, hard — he’ll have bruises there tomorrow, he thinks. He wants them.
Evan’s tentative at first and then he’s not — he dives in with gusto and soon Tommy’s knees are weak, he feels loose, sloppy. Open for Evan, for whatever he wants…
Which is apparently to slide his fingers in, without warning — wet, slick, clearly he hid the lube in here earlier. He presses in fast, then holds still — waits.
Tommy’s going to lose his mind — “please, Evan, move.” He does and Tommy’s spine lights up.
He doesn’t need a hand to come all over the cabinets.
Evan slowly pulls his fingers free, Tommy can feel his smirk against his skin as he kisses his shoulder. He reaches around to turn the water back on, washes his hands and then softly uncurls Tommy’s hands from the counter. He hadn’t even realized they were still clenched where Evan had put them.
His brain is still leaking out of his ears when Evan nonchalantly pulls the lasagna out of the oven.
“Do you want —“ Tommy asks, gesturing a bit crudely, when he can string words together again.
“I’m good,” Evan says, “it’ll hold.”
It takes him too long, he thinks, to realize that Evan needs him to talk. That their bed can't be quiet. That he can’t let himself lock away his mind and let his body take what it needs the way he’s been doing for years. Evan needs words.
It takes trial and error, but they figure out that Evan riding him is a feedback loop in the best way — Evan boxes him in, knees tight to his sides, holding his arms down. He can see Tommy’s face, listens as he tells Evan how perfect he is, how good he is making him feel. He holds off until he can’t any more -- Evan’s already come, splattering across chest, but Tommy knows he likes it after, when everything is a little too much.
Tommy comes and Evan collapses on top of him, like his strings have been cut. “ ‘m never movin’ again,” he slurs.
Tommy pets his hair and tells him that’s fine. He likes the weight, the reality of Evan here in his bed. It’s so much more than he ever thought he’d get to have.
THEN
He signs up for the LAFD, passes his certifications first try, joins the 118 and ends up right back in the same closet he thought he escaped when he left the Army and DADT behind.
It’s toxic and terrible, and he lies through his teeth every day, like being back in Basic when he was eighteen, wet behind the ears, terrified of being found out. He’s smothered by the constant fear that there’s always something just around the corner waiting to take everything away that he worked so hard for.
Just like when he was talking sh*t in the barracks, he invents a never-ending chain of women who he never introduces to the crew.
Grindr is a revelation when it appears. Men on call, whenever and wherever he wants; it’s a freedom he never thought he’d find. Starts PrEP as soon as it’s available, prays to a god he no longer believes in that he never has to explain that to Gerrard. He hates Grindr as much as he loves it. The dick pics and the disembodied abs don’t do much to turn him on, but it gets the job done. No fuss, no muss.
He gravitates to men who look like he does — guys who can hold him in place, guys who make him work for it. He likes that part. He hates the assumptions they make about him. He hates the way they tell him he's a dirty slu*t for it when he's on his knees, ask him if he's gagging for it, how bad he wants it.
He wants someone who can hold him down — not someone who thinks he's there by anything except choice.
Eventually though, the string of anonymous men feels just as bad as the nonexistent women. Every time he leaves a strange bed that he’ll never get into again he feels like a little more of himself gets hollowed out. Sex starts to feel like a transaction and he’s not sure it's a cost he’s willing to pay. He does learn what his body wants though. That he’s a sucker for strong hands, fingers — that he doesn’t need anything more if the guy can just hit his fingers in the right spot. That he absolutely flushes hot if there’s a chance someone is going to walk in, overhear.
He powers through his first couple of years at the firehouse on sheer stubbornness and the feeling that he has to make this work. He’s been Army. Now he’s LAFD. He’s not sure he has it in him to start something else. He’s 27; he’s supposed to know what he’s doing with his life by this point.
He sees what Gerrard does to Chimney, and then Hen, sees the way they struggle and chafe under his leadership, and he feels for them, but he’s having a hard enough time holding himself together, keeping all his stories straight to get involved in theirs.
And, if he's being brutally honest with himself, they're useful cover. If Gerrard is focused on complaining about the LAFD foisting diversity hires on him in the shape of Chim and Hen, then he doesn't have a lot of attention left over to look at the ways that Tommy is a stealth diversity hire in sheep's clothing. He doesn't like it, doesn't like himself , but he can’t see a way out.
NOW
Thankfully, none of the rest of their dates start with wildfires and end with hospital weddings.
Sometimes they go out with the 118. Evan’s a regular at quiz night now. He gets a standing invitation to Friday movie nights at Eddie’s — knows it’s a test he’s passed without having to be told. Tries (and fails) not to feel superior when Chris mentions that Taylor had never wanted to come even when she’d been invited. The implication that she didn’t get invited much goes unsaid.
Most nights though, if they’re both off, are quiet. He does Chim a solid and starts sharing his favorite movies with Evan. It becomes their just post-shift thing, and if they fall asleep half way through more often than they don’t, there’s nobody but them there to see.
Evan virtually takes over his kitchen, which okay, Tommy can make a mean roast chickens and grill fish with the best of them, but a chef he is not. The second he feels comfortable enough, Evan makes himself at home, moving things around so Tommy’s inevitably exasperated when Evan’s not there, and he has to spend 20 minutes looking for his can opener or trying to figure out why the teaspoons ended up in the cutlery drawer.
But for all the disarray it puts into his neatly organized life, he gets amazing food. And -- he likes the way Evan has made a space for himself here.
Evan calls him “baby,” one night while they’re making dinner and Tommy shudders, takes an involuntary step back. Evan looks up, examines his face. “So not baby, then. Sweetheart?”
Eh. Tommy waggles his hand back and forth. “I guess? If you have to?”
“My own?”
“If you call me my precious, I’m going to—” Tommy can’t think of an appropriate threat, but figures Evan gets the point.
He does, although he starts to tease him with pet names after that, throws them into the middle of conversations just to see if Tommy will notice.
Offers up, "my boo," one night when they're out with the 118. Hen laughs so hard at the face he makes that she snorts beer.
Slides, "lover," into conversation over dinner with Eddie and Chris. Chris makes a horrified face, and Tommy enjoys the way it makes Evan's face flame when he realizes. "Forgot who you were talking to?" Eddie asks dryly.
Tries, "darlin'" one night, with a more credible accent than Tommy had been expecting. "Spent some time working in Virginia Beach," Evan explains when he raises an eyebrow. And, of course he did. Tommy's not totally convinced there's a job or a state where Evan hasn't worked. He still vetoes it.
Evan props his chin on his hand and bats his eyes at Tommy over beer and pizza. "Sugar? Honey? Pumpkin?"
"Are you trying not to get laid tonight?"
One night when Evan's spooned up behind him, he leans in and whispers in Tommy's ear, "mine," and --
Oh, yeah, that works. That's okay.
THEN
He’s been in LA for five years when his life changes. He just can’t anymore and finds a gym as far away from the firehouse as he can, some place that’s just his. Far enough away that no one will stumble on him, but close enough he’s willing to fight LA traffic to get there a couple of times a week. Practices his Muay Thai, takes it all out on the training bag that can’t hit back. Has a little peace of mind, if only for a few hours.
One day, he’s drenched from ten miles on the treadmill when he sees the owner, Jerry, lean over to kiss the guy he’s been spotting. Despite what Jerry will say later, he definitely does not miss a stride and fall off, banging his head and drawing all the attention he didn’t want.
Jerry breaks away from the man he’d been spotting ( kissing, Tommy’s brain helpfully reminds him) and ignores all of Tommy’s protests that he’s fine. Pulls him into the office and sits him down in one of the chairs and firmly tells him to, “wait right there,” while he gets an ice pack. Sits down across from him in the other guest chair when he comes back, waves Tommy’s attempts to leave aside. “Gotta make sure you don’t have a concussion. Insurance, you know.”
Tommy does not know, but lets it go, keeps sneaking peeks at Jerry from under the edge of the ice pack, trying to be discreet, but apparently failing, because Jerry taps his finger on the desk. “If this is gonna be a problem, I’m happy to refund your membership.”
And that’s not what he wants at all. Shakes his head, and then regrets it when it jars a headache loose, and Jerry might not actually be wrong about worrying about a concussion. “No. No. That’s not… I’m fine. It’s fine. Obviously, it’s fine. That’s not,” takes a breath and swallows down panic, because he’s never said it out loud before. “It’s just… I’m—”
And Jerry’s whole demeanor changes, and Tommy hadn’t realized how tense Jerry was until he wasn’t. Leans in to readjust the ice pack that Tommy’s let slip while he was fumbling his way through a sentence that hadn’t actually gone anywhere. “How long have you been out?”
And Tommy looks up at the ceiling, blows out a breath and then looks him in the eye. “About 30 seconds?”
He lives two lives now, one at the firehouse and one at the gym, at home, with his friends. When his lease is up, he moves closer to the gym to put more space between him and the captain and the rest of the crew.
NOW
Tommy joins the 118 at a bar, nominally to celebrate Chim being released from the hospital, even though he’s technically been home a few weeks. He watches out of the corner of his eye as the hot bartender hits on Evan, recognizes that combination of blushing and then that look back up through his eyelashes. Evan's flirting, or at least he’s not turning the guy down.
He comes back, dropping the pitcher with a splash. Ravi asks, "Did you get his number? If you did, you have to tell us, for the pool." Buck shakes his head, but looks back at the guy.
Later in the car, Tommy grits his teeth and says, "If you did, you know, want to — you should."
Evan looks over, confused. "I'm sorry, uh, what are we talking about?"
"The bartender," Tommy clarifies, "Or you know, anyone. If you wanted to give them your number, go on a date. I know it's... new. For you. I would understand."
Buck stares at him, eyes reflecting the light from the dash, "Tommy," he stops. "I don't. I didn't."
"I know," Tommy giving him an out. "This time, but if you ever. I wouldn't stand in your way."
Evan's silent until they get back to Tommy's house, toes off his shoes and disappears into the bedroom while Tommy loads the dishwasher, turns out all the lights.
He finds Evan, naked, in his bed. "I want this," he says, "I can prove it to you?"
"I know -- I know you do now, I can, uh" he gestures, "see that, but I know —"
"Trust me," Evan says, and goes up on his knees, pulling Tommy down on top of him.
It isn’t resolved. He knows that. He’s not oblivious to the way that Evan studiously does not flirt with anyone when they go out, not even in the low key way he flirts with everyone. It’s like he’s turned part of himself off, and Tommy kind of hates himself a little, but also doesn’t want to take it back. Evan should have the chance to be new and eager and add as many dance partners to his card as he wants (damn Ethan and his love of period romances).
He’s also not oblivious to the way that there’s a slightly frantic edge to the way that Evan touches him now, like he has to convince Tommy of something.
It comes to a head because of Lucy. Tommy thinks, in retrospect, that of course he's not the first firefighter to take a shot with Evan.
"Who has you on a leash?" she asks one night, when it's just them, her, and Eddie at a bar. Eddie suddenly finds something terribly fascinating on the other side of the room, and won’t meet Tommy’s eyes. Evan looks over at Tommy, and then back at Lucy. She definitely clocks it.
Evan says, "What? I don't? What?"
She points at him. "You have not looked at my tit* once, and they are goddamned magnificent today."
Evan obediently looks down, and toasts them, but doesn’t pay them any more attention than that. And, Tommy thinks, not like he has to remind himself not to, the way that guys do when they’re trying not to look, but looking anyway. But, like he’s genuinely not interested.
Evan doesn’t spend the night. He doesn’t usually if he has an early shift, always bitches about how far from the station Tommy’s house is. Which is true, and was the point when he’d found it. It gives him time to think. What he’d said. What Evan had said. What Evan hadn’t said. He’s distracted enough his next shift that Lucy actually corners him to apologize. “I didn’t mean anything by it, you know that right? Like, I was just teasing him.” He nods vaguely. He was never upset about her comment.
Gets off shift and drives over to Eddie’s and bangs on the door. Opens with, “Eddie, I f*cked up,” when he answers.
Eddie sighs, pulling the door wider and gesturing behind him to Evan on the couch. “There seems to be a lot of that going around.” Grabs Tommy’s arm and yanks him inside. “You are going to sit here and work this out, because I do not want to be in the middle of whatever this is.”
Eddie takes Chris out for ice cream to give them privacy, and Chris is smart enough to both pick up on the weird vibes and not to question impromptu ice cream. Eddie leaves with a stern look at Evan. “Do not do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Evan gives him a faint approximation of a smirk. “Overcook the eggs and burn the toast. Got it.”
Eddie rolls his eyes and Chris laughs. And then they’re alone, sitting across from each other at Eddie’s kitchen table.
The silence stretches awkwardly, and Tommy finally bites the bullet. “So, I know why I think I f*cked up. Not sure what you think you did.”
Evan doesn’t say anything, and Tommy grits his teeth, because now is when Evan chooses to be reticent? “Okay, I’m just going to start talking, and you tell me when I get something wrong.” Waits until Evan tilts his head just enough to count as an acknowledgement. “I think I didn’t trust you to know what you want. I tried to tell you what I thought I was supposed to say, and I didn’t listen when you told me what you actually want. How am I doing so far?”
Evan flicks him a look, and then gets up and gets them both beers from Eddie’s fridge, stays leaning back against the counter. “I need you to stop treating me like just because I’ve never dated a guy before means I’ve never dated. I’ve done casual. I’m not looking for casual, with guys or girls. I want something real.” Gives a sour laugh. “Feels like the problem is that nobody ever seems to look at me and see that. Starting to think it's not them, it's me.”
He nods slowly. “I want that, too.”
Evan picks at the label on his beer. “Do you? Because sometimes it feels like you think I just see you like training wheels and once I’ve figured it out I’m going to move on.”
He lays himself as bare as he can, cards on the table. “I don’t want you to. I think I’m trying to protect myself, because I’m falling in love with you and maybe it’ll hurt less if I know now if you don’t feel the same way.”
Evan’s head snaps up, eyes wide and shocked. His, “oh,” is almost soundless.
He takes a swallow of his beer. It's a local IPA, which is not his cup of tea, but Evan's been trying to convince Eddie that the hoppier the better. Tommy’s going to have to work on Eddie -- he’s pretty sure he only keeps them in his fridge for Evan anyway.
He tries not to panic that Evan hasn’t said anything. “So, why do you think you f*cked up?”
Evan sits down again, in the chair next to him instead of across the table, which feels like progress. Maybe. “ I am, historically, not great at reading the room, at knowing when something is over. I get clingy. I know it’s not my most attractive feature.” He fidgets with a school flier on the table, rolling and unrolling the edge. “Eddie says I’m the guy who likes to fix things.” He gives a half laugh. “He’s not wrong. I always try, even when the thing they want to fix is me.”
And Tommy has a flash of pure hatred for Abby, and Taylor, and Natasha, and everyone who’s ever made Evan feel like he’s not enough. Includes himself on that list.
Evan clears his throat uncomfortably. “Maddie says I need higher standards, that I don’t have to just accept less, that I’m worth more.” He rubs a finger over his eyebrow. “I, umm, I’m working on that. It’s just hard to remember sometimes when I’m worried I’m gonna lose someone—” He takes a breath. “Someone I’m falling in love with.”
Later that night, on the edge of sleep, Tommy rolls over so he’s looking Evan in the eyes when he says, “mine,“ in return. Kisses him softly, “Turns out, I can be a little bit clingy too. “
THEN
His commute is hellish, but he has moments when he feels, not free exactly, but less caged. Places where he doesn’t have to act, doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not.
He meets JT at the gym, spars with him for half an hour in the ring, and then follows him into the showers. When they come out, Jerry is glaring at them from the front desk. He figures it’s because this is not that kind of gym, and Jerry’s not thrilled with him taking liberties. Which, fair.
He wasn’t planning on anything more, but somehow he finds himself asking JT if he wants to go grab a smoothie from the place next door. They never really discuss it, but soon they’re going home together after workouts and it’s officially a thing despite Jerry’s vocal disapproval.
Jerry pulls him aside one day to ask him point blank. “Do you actually like him?”
It’s a reasonable question. He’s not sure. He likes knowing someone else’s coffee order, being the little spoon, having someone to make plans with. It feels like an acceptable trade off for sometimes finding JT boring, for not actually having that much in common except working out.
Jerry sighs, and waves a hand. “Okay, I guess. But for the record, you should set your standards higher.”
Turns out Tommy’s not the only guy in JT’s bed. “We never said we were exclusive,” JT points out when Tommy confronts him about it. And that’s… true. He’d been, he realizes, a little blinded by getting something he’d only just grasped was even a possibility. Jerry’s right -- he needs higher standards.
He flies home for his grandfather's funeral in Arlington. Grits his teeth tight while Taps is played to keep from walking away, because all he can see is Cherry grinning at him from inside the co*ckpit of their bird.
At breakfast the next morning, his dad keeps asking about girlfriends, about kids, about when he's going to man up and grow up, carry on the family legacy. He looks at his sister across the table, sandwiched between her two kids, and wonders why she doesn’t count.
Looks at his mom -- he's pretty sure that she's already two drinks in at 9am. Thinks, f*ck it.
"Never, sir," he announces. "I am going to bring a nice girl home exactly never." His father looks like he’s not quite sure what Tommy’s saying, or maybe he’s just hoping Tommy’s saying something else, so he says it outright, no ambiguity to hide behind. “I’m gay.” He pauses, and his dad just keeps looking at him blankly, so he says with force, “A fa*ggot, Dad. A co*cksucker. A fairy.”
His mother surfaces from her bloody mary long enough to frown at his tone of voice. “Tommy, is this really the time for this?”
He rubs his forehead against the headache he’s had since he got off the plane at BWI. “What would be a good time, Mom?
He scrapes his chair back and pushes away from the table. Pauses in the hallway to see if any of them — his sister — will follow him. She doesn’t, and he listens as the conversation in the dining room starts up again, and goes to find his phone and see if he can catch an earlier flight home.
He can’t.
Gets a room at an airport hotel and goes down to the bar to try and see if he can drink enough to forget this entire weekend. Runs into his old high school best friend wheeling a suitcase through the lobby. They’d lost touch after Basic, after Afghanistan. He’d lost touch with a lot of people after that — accidentally and on purpose.
“Tommy Kinard, as I live and breathe,” she says.
He stares at her blankly for a moment. “Beth. f*ck, it’s been forever. How are you?”
She edges onto a bar stool next to him and eyes his drink. “Well better than you from the looks of it. What are you doing back in town? I thought you’d made a blood oath to never return or something.”
He snorts, and signals the bartender to bring her something. “My grandfather died, came back for the funeral.”
Her face pulls in the automatic sympathetic expression that he’d learned to hate after Cherry died. “Tommy, I’m so sor—”
He cuts her off. “Came out to my parents.” Toasts her. “Fun weekend.”
She sits back, startled, and he can see her reevaluating everything she remembers about him. Waits to see which way she’ll leap. She takes a sip of her wine and says, “So, what you’re saying is that it really wasn’t me, it was you.”
He snorts bourbon which burns like a motherf*cker.
She grins at him unrepentant and hands him a napkin, and then a menu. “Clearly we’ve got some catching up to do, and I’m hungry.”
NOW
Evan is wary of believing him when he says he understands that Eddie and Chris are family. But, he gets it. Took him a while, but he knows that family doesn’t always look like it does on TV. Eddie and Chris are family for Evan, like Jerry and Brian are family. Tommy’s godfather to their two kids, he spends holidays at their house. He was there the day they brought Jenny home from hospital. Was on shift when Max was born, and Jenny likes to lord that over her brother.
He thinks Evan doesn’t really believe him right up until the first time he takes Evan with him to one of Jerry and Brian’s block parties; introduces Evan to everyone, but especially to Max and Jenny.
He sees Evan take in the way everyone says hello to him, the way Max and Jenny throw themselves at him like they hadn’t seen him in months and not last weekend. Evan brushes a kiss against his cheek and squeezes his hand before Tommy gets pulled away to help bring out food. “Thank you for letting me see this.”
Jerry finds him near the end of the afternoon, leaning against the side of the house watching Evan sitting cross legged on the ground playing checkers against Max, while Jenny backseat drives.
He watches them all for a few minutes. “You got any idea what you’re doing?”
Shakes his head. “Probably not.”
Jerry snorts a laugh. “Well, for what it’s worth, I like him. Brian might be a harder sell.”
His mouth twists in a smile. “I’ll get Evan to bring lasagna next time, see if that softens him up.”
“That man will do just about anything for a good lasagna,” Jerry agrees.
As they’re leaving Brian reaches to shake Evan’s hand, doesn’t let go. And, if there’s anyone who might win a handshake contest with Evan it might be Brian. Tommy waits to see what happens. “So,” Brian says, “what’d you think?”
Evan nods thoughtfully. “It’s got a very Sunday lunch at the Toretto’s vibe.” He looks at Brian and Jerry earnestly. “Is this when one of you tells me to buy my tuna fish sandwiches somewhere else?”
Jerry swallows his laugh so hard he chokes on it. Brian lets go of Evan’s to slap him on the back, and even Evan staggers a little under the force of it. “Welcome to the family, kid. Don’t break his heart.”
He leans into Evan after Jerry and Brian wander off to embarrass someone else. “I have been to barbeques at Bobby and Athena’s. You do not have room to talk.”
Evan gives him a sly grin. “Yeah, but do you think Chim’ll be impressed that I’ve even seen it?”
He’s the one who calls Lizzie this time. They still don’t do this much — tend to talk over email, or by zoom once a month or so — but she doesn’t sound worried when she picks up.
“Hey. What’s up?”
He goes tongue-tied for a minute, for all that he’d called her, for a second he cannot think of how to say this. Finally blurts it out. “I’ve met someone.” She doesn’t say anything, but it doesn’t feel judgmental, more like she’s waiting for him to finish his thought. “Someone I think is going to be around for a while.” Hopes, anyway. Falling in love with Evan Buckley is entirely too easy, and it’s going to break his heart if this doesn’t end up working. Break his heart like giving up the sky after Afghanistan had broken him.
“Does this mystery man have a name?” she asks finally when the silence has stretched almost too long.
“Evan. Evan Buckley.” Adds awkwardly, “He’s LAFD, too.” He could tell her more if she asked.
“I’m glad for you,” is all she says though. And even if he thinks more might be nice, that’s enough.
THEN
Jerry’s the one who introduces Tommy to Ethan at the Mardi Gras block party he and Brian throw every year. Honestly Jerry and Brian throw a block party for just about every occasion they can think of, Tommy thinks they just like throwing parties. “Gotta celebrate when you can,” Brian tells him when Tommy says that out loud once. “Life’s got enough ways to beat you down, take the joy where you find it.”
Ethan’s a tax lawyer, makes the obligatory jokes about how he promises he’s not as boring as that sounds.
He’s not. He’s got a surprisingly dry sense of humor. Likes big hat Masterpiece Theater historical dramas. Gets Tommy into Downton Abbey, for which he may never forgive him.
Nods like he understands when Tommy tells him about his scars, says, "I was Army, too." He says, when Tommy looks over at him surprised. "JAG. Volunteered for a tour in Afghanistan in '04."
"So you know." Tommy says.
"A little." Ethan agrees, " I would never say I get it."
But, Tommy feels more comfortable, like the playing field is a little more level.
The sex is… fine. It’s not the best he’s ever had, but it’s certainly not the worst either. He knows that’s not a ringing endorsem*nt, but he’s 32 and sex isn’t everything anymore.
He finds there's joy in the quiet moments. When Ethan brings him his coffee in bed, when he sorts the recycling on Thursdays because he knows Tommy hates doing it. They take Ethan's dog on a walk on the weekend and it's—
Domestic.
It's nice, in a way Tommy thinks coming home should feel.
it's everything outside of the house that's screwed up.
He wants to be different but he feels stuck. He and Chimney reach a detente — not quite friends but more than coworkers. It happens when someone saves your life.
He files a complaint against Gerrard. It’s anonymous, and it’s not enough. It is, in fact, the very least he can do. But at least he does it. Talks to a couple of other guys in other stations, drops hints that there have been complaints made about Gerrard and hopes it’s enough to get a foothold on the rumor mill, maybe get some other people to come forward if they feel like they’re not the only ones.
Ethan finally leaves him because he won’t go out, constantly worried that he’s going to run into one of the crew. Tommy won’t hold his hand or so much as kiss his cheek anywhere more public than Jerry and Brian’s backyard.
Ethan says, “I like you. I kind of get it, why you’re scared, but I can’t keep doing this. I need to date you outside of this apartment, and you’re not ready yet.” He brushes a kiss across Tommy’s cheek as he leaves. “Take care of yourself.”
Tommy wishes it were different, that he was different, that he could say, “f*ck it,” and do what Ethan asked, but every time he opens his mouth to say something, it clicks shut.
NOW
The first time he meets Evan he thinks Evan’s hitting on him.
Well no, that's a lie. The first time he meets Evan he's letting himself get talked into stealing a helicopter and flying it into a hurricane. Hovering over the hull of a capsized cruise ship in the middle of the trailing edge of a Cat 3 storm, listening to Howie and Hen and Eddie and Evan bicker he wonders what in hell he was thinking. That's also a lie. He was thinking he owed Howie, and Hen.
The second time he meets Evan, when he comes to tour the airfield, he thinks Evan is flirting with him. He's definitely flirting with Evan.
After their first date, he thinks, maybe now isn’t the time. Tommy likes Evan, thinks they could really be something, but he’s not going back in the closet for anyone. If Evan’s not ready, he won’t push.
Which is too bad.
But then Evan comes back. Says he’s ready. Says he’s willing to prove it. Invites Tommy to his sister’s wedding, which is definitely… something. He’s not quite willing to commit yet to deciding what. But, he shows up, and Evan kisses him in front of God and the entire hospital reception area, tugs him along behind him to introduce him to the wedding party still sporting soot smeared all across his face. It’s certainly one way to come out.
So, a fourth date. Maybe one with less drama this time. But, after a wedding for a third date he feels like he needs to up the ante, or at least meet it. And if there’s part of him that’s testing to see if Evan really means it when it’s not around people who he knows will love him no matter what, that’s his business.
He’s got his usual go to — helicopter ride, and ringside seats for a Vegas boxing match (Henry's the lawyer of choice for fighters turned actors, and now he has a full client list of A-list stars). Had used it on Eddie even if that was actually just a friend thing and not a maybe getting laid thing. But something about the way Evan had said ‘half naked guys pummeling each other’ makes him think Evan won’t be impressed by that.
He double checks his impression with Eddie as casually as he can over beers one night. Eddie gives him a skeptical look that says he’s not buying any of what Tommy’s selling and Tommy caves. “Fine, help a friend out. What’s going to impress him?”
“Not that,” Eddie says promptly. Gets a thoughtful look. “Look is this serious for you? Do you actually like him?”
“As opposed to?”
Eddie shrugs. “He’s pretty. A lot of the time nobody looks for more than that. If that’s all you want you should do him a favor and walk away now.”
He does Eddie — and Evan — the courtesy of actually thinking about it. “And if it’s not?”
He waits through Eddie’s uncomfortable scrutiny. “He likes learning things,” Eddie finally says grudgingly. “He and Chris have the Planetarium memorized, and they know everyone at the zoo by name.”
That is helpful, if not useful.
It’s Gina who comes through for him in the end with tickets to the San Diego Zoo Food Wine & Brew Annual Fundraiser.
She holds the tickets just out of reach. “Is this a boy thing? Don’t you usually go to Henry for that?”
He makes a grab for them. “Not that kind of boy.”
She hmms with interest, still holding the tickets out of reach. “So what kind of boy is he?”
“The kind I like,” he tells her with exasperation, and maybe slightly more honesty than he’d been planning on. “The kind who has the LA Zoo memorized, and likes beer and food. Can I have the tickets now?”
She purses her lips. “Depends. Do you have a picture?”
He sighs and digs out his phone and finds her one from the wedding — from after Maddie had pulled a wet wipe apparently out of thin air and handed it to Evan. Gina raises her eyebrows and wolf whistles. “Well damn, you’re leveling up.” Hands him the tickets.
He doesn’t tell Evan where they’re going, just tells him to wear something nice, but with comfortable shoes. Evan swivels to look at him when he figures out that they’re headed for the heliport at Harbor. “Seriously?” He nods. “Where are we going? No. Don’t tell me. I like the mystery.”
He snorts.
When they get out of the car Evan cages him up against it, kisses him fast but thorough, doesn’t spare a second to look around to see who might be watching. “What was that for?”
“Pre-thank you. And, because I wanted to. I need a reason now?” Takes Tommy’s hand and laces their fingers together, and follows Tommy into the hanger. He takes it again when they land in San Diego and doesn’t let go except to eat, and to pet the anteater And, Tommy supposes, that’s as clear an answer as he can get.
THEN
Bobby arrives and he can almost see over the horizon but he thinks —
No, he knows he has to get out. Start fresh again. And Harbor will give him a chance to fly again.
He makes himself a promise — if he leaves the 118, if he goes to Harbor, if he starts over again, he does it honest this time. Otherwise he's quitting LAFD, starting his own gym, going back to school to learn how to teach math, something, anything, but he needs a life where he doesn't have to lie.
He literally holds his breath the first time he joins a conversation with his new crew, and says as casually as he can manage with his heart thudding in his ears, “Oh yeah, my ex hated that movie — he always,” he can see their eyebrows raise, can see them look at each other and can almost hear them say be cool, don’t react.
He continues his thought, they give him sh*t for his clearly correct Star Wars opinions. Nobody makes a big deal about it.
So that’s how he comes out the third time? He’s losing track.
Settling into Harbor, into his new life takes time. He isn’t always patient with himself, but he’s learning.
He starts dating Lawrence a few months before the lockdowns and he becomes the first person that he’s sleeping with that he ever introduces to Lizzie, even if it's completely by accident.
He doesn’t talk to his sister much anymore. But the pandemic is a weird leveling agent, makes people want to reconnect. LIzzie’d been the one to reach out first, and he’s grateful because he’s not sure he could have done it. By tacit agreement neither one of them talks about their parents. He trusts that she’d tell him if something happened, and that’s about as much as he can find it in him to care. But, she tells him about her husband, and their kids. He’s met his niece and nephew exactly twice, but he likes hearing about them, about her life.
Lawrence doesn’t realize he’s on a video call when he wanders through the living room, towel around his waist, blearily hunting through his bag for his computer. Tommy freezes when he sees Lawrence framed behind him, wonders if he should mention it, or pretend it didn’t happen, pretend that maybe Lizzie didn’t see.
She looks frozen, too, but finally awkwardly gestures at the screen. “So, was that your boyfriend?”
They don’t talk about this. Haven’t since he came out to his parents, and they stopped talking to him. He starts to say no, that Lawrence is just a friend, crashing at his place, and then changes his mind, because what can she possibly say that he hasn’t already heard. And, he promised himself when he moved to Harbor that he was going to stop lying to himself or anyone else. “Yes. His name is Lawrence.”
She nods, and for a moment he thinks she’s going to ask all the normal questions — how long, and how did you meet, and what does he do. But then she changes the subject, tells him about a funny thing his niece had done the other day. He tells himself he’s not disappointed.
He’s about to go on shift two days later when she calls him. She doesn’t call him, not outside of scheduled zoom calls, and he can’t stop the instinctive panic at seeing her name on the screen, because if she’s calling it has to be bad news.
He answers, because news doesn’t get less bad the longer it waits. “Is he good to you?”
He pulls the phone away from his ear to stare at it, double check that it really is his sister calling him. “Who?” he asks cautiously.
“Your boyfriend,” she says impatiently, like this is the continuation of a conversation, and he’s the one not keeping up. “Is he good to you?”
“I… yes. He’s good to me.”
“Good,” she says, and she sounds fierce. And then, “I have to go, school pick up. I just… I wanted to know.”
He stares at his phone for a long minute after they hang up, trying to figure out how he feels about what just happened. He finally settles on good. It’s not perfect. She’s never going to be comfortable with it, not really. And he’s never going to bring a boyfriend home to meet his family, but he likes that she knows.
NOW
Tommy thought the Army had prepared him for most things, good and bad. What he didn't learn there, the Fire Department took care of.
None of it prepared him for the Buckleys.
In hindsight, this brunch was always going to be a disaster, even before he got mad at Evan.
They’re still loudly not fighting when they pull up outside of Maddie and Chim’s house the next morning. He doesn’t think they’ve said more than five words to each other all morning, and three of those were, “Any milk left?”
Evan turns to him suddenly in the car. “Wait, before we go in. I should warn you—”
He looks at the clock. “We’re already late. Let’s just go.”
He should have listened to the warning. Is not actually sure what warning would possibly have been adequate.
Evan’s mom is the first one to see him, and her gasping “Oh! “ is enough to draw his dad into the crowded entry. Tommy’s trying to support Evan while he toes off his shoes — while his mom has her hands on his face, examining the bandage, and catches the way he winces.
“Was it,” her brow scrunches, “an accident? on the job?” Evan nods. “Oh Evan, you should be more careful. You know how much I hate it when you’re in the hospital."
Which is a more or less normal thing for a parent to say, except Evan, Maddie, and Chim all flinch. And there is clearly intel here that he is missing. Wishes he’d taken Evan’s debrief in the car, however angry at him he is right now.
His dad starts like they’re continuing a conversation they’ve had before. “I don’t know why you don’t quit that job, you know how we worry, your mother’s heart — the stress.” Maddie hovers in the archway for a moment before she says with a kind of determined cheer, “Mimosas anyone?”
Tommy notices Chim’s hiding in the kitchen behind Jee.
He sets the bag of Jee’s presents down and goes to take her from Chim, dumps her on Evan’s lap — he lets out a loud oof and a groan. Tommy smiles at him insincerely. “Oh I’m sorry, did that hurt?” He smiles at Jee with more sincerity because she’s adorable, and three, and includes her in the conversation, “We should think of the consequences of our actions, shouldn’t we?” Jee pats at Evan’s bandage solemnly and nods.
He realizes he’s made a mistake when Evan’s mom piles on, “Exactly, Evan, dear you just got out of the hospital and my heart isn’t what it used to be, and after Daniel—“
He can literally see Evan shut down.
Who is Daniel, he mouths at Chim.
Brunch is… stilted. Margaret and Philip fuss over Jee. Manage to imply that Evan doesn’t know his niece very well and question what she’ll do with the zoo membership he got her for her birthday. "I’ll take her," Evan points out with forced calm.
"Our Buck loves the zoo," Chim adds. "Takes Chris all the time. Plus, we get free babysitting. So win win." Maddie looks grateful.
"Well, if you’re sure you’ll have time," Philip says dubiously, "between work and your—,"
There’s an awkward pause, and he really cannot help himself. "Boyfriend," he supplies blandly, and deliberately ignores the way it makes the Buckley parents frown in tandem, like he’s said something impolite. They are your boyfriend's parents, he reminds himself, and tries to squash the traitorous voice that suggests, you only have to be nice to them if Evan likes them, and he clearly. Well, actually he's not really sure what Evan thinks, or Maddie, but he’s not sure like is the word he’d use.
"Yes, Evan mentioned," Margaret says, "although everything was so rushed at the wedding." He doesn't say anything, and eventually she moves to fill the silence. "Evan said you're with the LAFD, too?"
"Yes, ma'am. Air Support."
"How interesting," Philip notes, and doesn't sound interested at all.
Evan leans over to mutter, "Ignore them. It’s me they’re disappointed in."
Maddie and Chim both keep trying to change the conversation — talk about Jee, which seems to be accepted neutral territory, but Evan’s parents don’t seem willing to take the cue. They keep bringing it back to Evan’s cracked ribs, his stitches. They keep talking about Evan like he did it on purpose. To hurt them.
Evan’s mother can’t take her eyes off the bandage on his forehead or the way he moves carefully and babies his ribs. "I do wish you weren’t so careless."
When Philip says something again about Evan being reckless, not taking anyone else into consideration, he loses his cool. “Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re out of line.” He sits up straight and meets his eyes, “Your son saved a kid’s life yesterday.”
It stops the conversation dead. Chim's looking at him from across the table with wide eyes, like he's just stepped on a landmine.
Evan’s mother sniffles, and her husband puts a hand on her back, ignoring Tommy completely. "I just thought you’d be more sensitive. You know how your mother feels, after Daniel." He still doesn’t know who Daniel is.
"It’s what I’m here for though, isn’t it?" Evan's voice is cold and taut. "Couldn’t save Daniel, so I gotta balance the books somehow."
Maddie recoils.
Evan turns to him. "Thought you were mad at me, too."
He has no idea what's going on, but this he's sure about. "Oh I am. I’m plenty mad at you. But, they’re mad at you for the wrong f*cking reasons." Winces, and looks at Maddie, mouths ‘sorry’.
"What," Margaret asks icily, "is the right reason?"
He stares her down. "Look, I have no idea half of what's going on right now. But, you're mad at him for being himself. For trying. For caring. And, for the record, I do not understand that at all, because those are all reasons I love him."
Margaret and Philip look like they've bitten lemons, but Maddie catches his eye, and he swears she gives him an approving nod.
"So why are you mad at me?" Evan finally says into the silence.
And nope, they are not doing this here. He holds a hand out to Evan to help him up, thanks… someone that Evan doesn't even question it, just takes it. He nods at Maddie and Chim, can’t really say it’s been lovely, settles for. “We’ll see you soon.” Nods at Philip and Margaret. “Mr. and Mrs. Buckley.” And then he escorts Evan out the door and into the car, helping settle him before he rounds the hood and gets in himself.
Evan looks tired, and like he's waiting for his punishment. "Come on, get it over with. Tell me why I f*cked up yesterday."
He takes the key out of the ignition and rubs his forehead, and regrets the mimosa he'd had. "Look, our jobs are dangerous. I get that. I’m never going to tell you not to rescue someone."
Evan's head snaps up. "Really? Because I feel like that's pretty much exactly what you said last night."
"No." He glances back towards the house, sees Chim watching them from inside, then vanishing out of the window when he realizes Tommy’s caught him watching. Lovely. "If you are the person best placed to rescue someone, that is your job. I'd rather you didn't get hurt, but I understand that it happens. But, that’s a calculated risk. What you did yesterday wasn't. What you did yesterday was reckless. You act like you think nobody will miss you if you’re not here.”
And that’s… not quite it, but it’s close. He can see it, even as Evan’s denying it. “I know people will miss me. But I don’t have a family. I don’t have someone who depends on me to come home.” Hears like Eddie and Chim, like Hen and Bobby.
He just stares at Evan. “What are you talking about? Do you have any idea how jealous I was of the family you have?” Evan blinks at him, confused. “The 118 was a sh*tshow when I was there. But, you — all of you — you built a family there. You think normal firehouses abscond with helicopters and fly into storms because someone didn’t answer their phone? No. That’s something you do for family.”
He sees Evan’s father opening the door and puts the car in drive. Doesn’t care if it’s rude. Evan glances towards the house and makes a face, but doesn’t suggest they go back in.
It isn’t until they’re home, and Evan’s settled on the couch that he says, “Daniel was my brother.”
THEN/NOW
Turns out that coming out isn’t something you do just once.
Or twice.
It’s something you do over and over again, in big ways and small for years. For decades.
When Evan pulls him into Chim’s hospital room to congratulate the bride and groom, he can see Chim’s jaw hit the ground, sees Hen lean over to whisper to her wife. Maddie just gives him a side eye and a bemused shake of the head.
Bobby looks at him with a small smile and then a nod at the door — this is either going to be an awkward ‘you could have told me’ moment or a shovel talk.
Turns out to be both.
He shakes Bobby’s hand and goes to find Evan. Takes family photos until he cracks a giant yawn in the middle of one that makes Jee laugh.
“Let’s get you home,” Evan says.
He sits in the cab of Evan’s jeep and thinks about how he’d gotten here, where he’s going.
Evan pays the parking fee and exits the garage and then stops. “I need your address.”
He laughs and keys it into Evan’s phone. Leans his head back and closes his eyes. This is a beginning, but it’s also not. Feels like he’s come full circle.
It’s a beginning. And, an ending. And, a middle.
Opens his eyes and puts his hand on Evan’s thigh. Evan looks back at him and smiles. Maybe flying wasn’t the love of his life.
