Archive of Our Own ^beta

1. Natalia & Louis

In the aftermath of getting Gerrard out of the 118, Buck felt like he was in desperate need of a holiday. He tried to remember the last time he'd had one of those, but only came up empty. The closest he'd ever come, he thought, had probably been back when he'd roamed the country, looking for something he he'd never known in the first place – a home, a family, a place where he belonged.

And the 118 was that, all of it, all at once, all the time, but he was beginning to realise that, maybe, it would be nice to also get away from it from time to time. Not so he could leave, but so he could come back.

Tommy had been so good throughout all of it – first Chim, then Bobby, then Eddie – one crisis after the other, but he'd remained solid. When Buck needed a shoulder to cry on because he was worried about his best friend and missed Chris, Tommy was there with open arms, when Buck needed to rant and rage about Gerrard being a piece of shit, Tommy was there with boxing gloves and a punching bag, and Buck -

Buck loved him.

It wasn't a big revelation, no fireworks or orchestral soundtrack, just the stillness of a quiet morning, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops of LA, and Tommy soundly asleep next to him, his hand still clutching onto Buck's.

And Buck loved him.

That's when he decided it was time to put in for some PTO and book them both a nice little Airbnb over in Santa Barbara. They deserved it.

It was a nice place, too, a little off the beaten path with it's own beach access, a rooftop jacuzzi, and the biggest bed Buck had ever seen in his life. They had their fun making ample use of all three on the first day. And the second. It wasn't until the third, and last, day that they actually ventured into town properly.

They walked hand in hand along the pier and Buck told Tommy about the tsunami, they walked past the college campus and Tommy told him about his dream to be an astronaut as a kid, they took photos in front of a massive fig tree and felt like the silly tourists they so often complained about at home.

It was perfect.

The cafe had been Buck's idea. Some new-agey place with beaded curtains and wind-chimes, the air reeking of too much incense. It was kooky. That's what had caught his eye about it anyway, that it wasn't one of those snobby hipster places where people got too pretentious about coffee beans as if they actually knew anything about them. He knew Tommy didn't like those kind of places, only ever drank coffee in the morning or on particularly rough shifts, and when he did, it wasn't because he liked it, it was because he had to. Tommy, Buck had learned after their second first date, was a tea drinker. And this place looked like it could manage a decent cup of tea.

Buck thought he could be forgiven when he didn't immediately recognise her. They hadn't dated for long, after all, never even made it past heated make-outs and the occasional adventurous hands over clothing. Besides, there was something to be said about seeing people out of context.

He hadn't expected to see her, was the thing, because of course he hadn't, and he also hadn't particularly wanted to see her.

And yet here she was -

“Buck?”

And Buck could feel his brain misfiring, desperately searching for a name he knew was there but repeatedly coming up empty.

“Hey,” he managed to croak out nevertheless, blindly reaching for Tommy's hand for some support. He'd need it.

“It is you! Wow!” She looked surprised to see him, not at all prepared, and Buck could relate. He was feeling a little stumped himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Vacation,” Tommy supplied, steady and reliable in that way Buck had come to love.

“You're not Eddie,” came the observation, dark eyes travelling up and down Tommy's toned torso, appreciative in a way that made Buck's skin itch. He wanted to bare his teeth, snarl, snap at her a little bit, wanted to bite down on the crook of Tommy's neck and raise his leg to piss all over him, really mark his territory.

“I am not,” Tommy confirmed, clearly amused. If he at all noticed her hungry stare, he didn't let it on.

“You know,” said Buck, because he might be blanking on her name right now, but he sure as hell remembered everything else, “We're not actually attached at the hip.” Because that had been a frequent almost-argument between them, how much time Buck had spent with Eddie, with Chris.

“Could have fooled me.” She laughed, like it was all long since water under the bridge, before offering her hand to Tommy. “Natalia -” Buck mentally slapped himself for not remembering. “- Buck and I used to date.”

Tommy took the hand, sparing a quick glance at Buck now that he knew this was that kind of encounter, like he wanted to make sure it was still okay to be friendly. Buck shrugged. Then he nodded.

“Tommy. Evan and I are currently dating.” He always made it sound so easy, so factual, so casual. Buck was still trying to get to that place, somewhere where he didn't feel awkward about this new revelation, like he immediately needed to explain the why and how and when and what of it all. Like he needed to justify himself.

“Nice to meet you,” said Natalia. She did not at all seem phased by their relationship status which was fair, probably.

They really hadn't dated for long.

“What – uh – what are you doing here?” Buck asked, finally finding his voice again for more than one word at a time.

It send Natalia on a whole journey, explaining how the cousin of a friend of a brother of a friend had hired her for a ceremony – “I'm a death doula,” she explained to Tommy who gave her a shallow nod and a blank stare – how that cousin was actually married to her long lost childhood best friend – “Jenny? I'm not sure if I ever talked about her,” she said to Buck who silently wished they'd picked literally any other cafe – how that best friend was pregnant with twins which kind of freaked her out a little – “I'm good with death, and dying, you know, but giving birth? Can you imagine?” - and none of it answered Buck's question in the end.

“But what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I'm here for a card reading. Mary? The owner? She's a witch.”

And, yeah, that tracked. Natalia was into witches and magic and Buck had been thankful that he'd never had to work too hard to keep her and Eddie apart.

“That sounds fascinating,” said Tommy, a little flat but not necessarily insincere. He just talked like that sometimes. “Evan and I were just going to grab a drink and a snack, if you don't mind?”

Natalia's cheeks darkened a little, like she was embarrassed. “Of course,” of course. “Sorry.”

Her eyes still lingered on Tommy – his chest, his biceps, his hands. Buck stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Tommy's waist and Tommy invited him in without question, without hesitation.

“It was nice seeing you again,” he said. He wasn't sure if he actually meant it.

“You too,” Natalia said, smiling a little awkwardly. He wasn't sure if she meant it either. “I'm happy for you.”

I'm happy for me too, Buck thought but didn't say, because that would be rude.

He was glad, though, when Natalia left them be to go into a backroom, presumably for her card reading, and Tommy gently steered him to a table in the back, nice and private.

“You okay?” he asked, a crease of worry prominent on his forehead.

Buck looked up at him, surprised, “Am I okay? You're the one who just had to meet my ex.”

“Exactly,” Tommy agreed nonsensically, “Your ex. And you're not answering the question. Are you okay?”

Sometimes he forgot that Tommy was, at his core, a wholly unflappable person. He kept his cool. He stayed rational and logical and pragmatic, even in the worst moments, safely and securely operating a helicopter in a hurricane without even breaking a sweat.

“I'm okay,” Buck answered, because he was. “We didn't date for long, honestly. She – uh – she was a little weird about the whole me dying thing.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, silently waiting for more details, which Buck happily provided.

“She was a little too into it.”

“Yes. I can see how that would be weird for you.”

Buck shrugged, not really all that bothered anymore. “Once I told her I didn't want to keep talking about it, she kind of lost interest, I think.”

“Well, I can't say I feel sorry about that,” said Tommy, that sly glint I'm his eyes he always got when he was flirting.

Buck rolled his eyes at him, but he also reached out to lace their fingers together on the table, smiling indulgently.

I love you, he thought, the words heavy on his mind. It was too soon, too much, too fast.

Instead, he leaned in for a chaste kiss and Tommy met him halfway.

Evan had asked, somewhat timidly, to go to a gay bar, because he'd never been – “I didn't feel like I was allowed to go without being, you know, gay” – and while Tommy firmly held that, being on the wrong side of 40, he was too old for places like that, he also couldn't, for the life of him, say no to Evan's damned puppy-dog eyes, which led them here.

It was one of the smaller bars, pretty tame compared to what else was out there. They had quiz nights every Monday and alcohol free game nights every Tuesday.

They went on a Thursday, both he and Evan on a blessedly shared 48 off, and Tommy was a little ashamed to admit that he was nervous. He hadn't been back here since Louis had, quite literally, left him standing in the rain to become a travel influencer in Australia. In Tommy's defence, when they'd first met, Louis had seemed like fairly down-to-earth social media coordinator with a penchant for photography and adrenaline-filled hobbies. Their first date had been a bungee jumping stint from a bridge.

When they went into the bar, Tommy took a moment to look around, one hand lazily resting in Evan's back pocket. It was busy but not overly so, a group of twenty-somethings loudly talking over each other in a corner booth, two bulldykes canoodling next to them, someone looking like they may be around Tommy's age standing by the bar, which was reassuring to see.

Evan smiled at him, face flushed and so very adorable, excitedly dragging him to the bar for drinks.

“On me,” he said with a wink, and as much as Tommy genuinely enjoyed spoiling his boyfriend, he was a weak, weak man.

“If you insist.”

“You can pay me back later.”

“I'm sure I'll find a way to express my gratitude.”

They found a table by the door next to a guy and a girl discussing each other's heart breaks by the sounds of it, clinked their glasses.

It was a perfectly nice night. Tommy didn't feel nearly as out of place as he'd expected, and Evan wouldn't stop grinning.

They didn't talk about work, their one rule for date night's. They could moan and complain and try to one-up each other one some of the stranger calls outs they'd had all they wanted when they were in private, but on nights like this, those things were off limits. Instead, Evan told him about Maddie, how she'd raised him more than their parents ever had, how mad he'd been when she'd left him, how relieved when she'd come back. Instead Tommy told him about his father, how desperate he'd been for his attention, how he'd only recently accepted that he could have never gotten it, not because of anything he'd done but simply because of who he was.

Evan got a second round, his treat, and Tommy made a mental note to be extra grateful when they got home later.

They talked about the movie they'd seen together recently, about that new recipe Evan was thinking of trying out, about Tommy's Muay Thai sessions with Eddie.

The bar around them was alive, Tommy knew, people coming and going and talking and laughing, but it was far, far away, barely even registering in Tommy's mind. The only thing that mattered was Evan's voice and Evan's smile and Evan's hands wildly gesticulating while he was trying to make a point.

Good god he loved him.

It was a new thought and it still sent little shivers down Tommy's spine. He didn't think he'd ever been in love before. Not really. Just with the idea of it.

He knew he'd been holding back in the beginning, keeping Evan at arm's length in some attempt to keep his own heart safe, had seen the way Evan and Eddie circled each other like twin stars caught in each other's orbit – round and round and round they went. It hadn't been until after a very honest, very emotional conversation with Evan that Tommy had truly allowed himself to feel all that there was to feel.

And he loved him.

The thought was there, the words sitting on the tip of his tongue, ready to slip out, when a heavy hand came down on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Tommy?” a voice Tommy didn't think he'd ever hear again said, and he turned around.

Louis looked different, his hair no longer dark but bleach blonde, reaching almost down to his shoulders, he'd shaved off his beard, and his face and arms were tanned and sun-kissed.

“Louis. I thought you'd be in Australia.”

Louis shrugged. “Didn't work out,” he said, like it was nothing, like it was no big deal, like he hadn't completely blown up his entire life on a whim.

Tommy found it didn't really hurt anymore. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Louis was clearly as surprised by Tommy's easy acceptance as Tommy himself, like didn't quite know what to do with it, like he'd expected hurt. There was a chip in his smile, and uncertainty in his eyes.

“Uh. Thanks,” he said, now looking back and forth between Tommy and Evan as if he'd only now realised that there was someone else at the table. “Who's – who's your friend?”

The thing about Evan was that he really did have a bit of a jealous streak, could get a little possessive sometimes, a little territorial. He'd seen it when they first met, the way Evan had lashed out because he'd felt excluded, had heard about it from Eddie too from when he'd first joined the 118, the way Evan had postured in the face of the new guy. He got to see it again now, the way Evan gave a tight-lipped smile that was all scorn and no mirth, his chest puffed up, his head held high in challenge.

“Boyfriend, actually,” he said, voice caustic and sharp. “Evan Buckley. Everyone calls me Buck.”

And Louis had to be feeling the hostility too, because he took a step back, his hand finally, blessedly, removed from Tommy's shoulder. Tommy resisted the urge to rub the spot to get rid of the phantom sensation of touch.

“Right,” he said, looking incredibly awkward now. “Well, sorry for interrupting you date. Tommy, I'd say give me a call if you ever want meet up, but I have a feeling you won't.”

“I won't,” Tommy confirmed, because even if he was single, he wouldn't want to make the same mistake twice.

Louis didn't look too broken up about it, anyway, giving him amicable nod. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You too,” said Tommy, and he found he meant it. Louis wasn't a bad person, he and Tommy just hadn't worked out. It happened.

And then Louis left, walking over to the bar and immediately trying to chat up the bartender who didn't seem interested in the attention.

Tommy turned back to Evan who had since deflated, all the previous bite and spite nowhere to be seen. He wouldn't meet Tommy's gaze.

“I'm sorry.”

Tommy frowned, reaching out to Evan's hand on his. “What are you sorry for?”

“Acting like that – I know I don't need to be jealous.”

“You're allowed to have feelings, Evan,” Tommy said, slowly, wishing Evan would look at him.

He didn't, though, simply shook his head. “But I shouldn't be taking them out on other people.”

Tommy shrugged. “You barely did. No one sprained their ankle.”

That, at least, got a chuckle out of Evan, and he peevishly looked up, cheeks flushed. “Will you ever let that go?”

“Never.”

Bit by bit, Evan relaxed, taking a sip from his drink. It would probably be the last one for the night because Tommy was ready to go home and have a different kind of fun.

“He was your ex, right?” Evan asked, then, suddenly alarmed. “I didn't just snap a friend or something?”

Tommy chuckled. “He was an ex, yeah. Broke up with me out of nowhere to move to Australia.”

“His loss.”

“His loss, indeed. Are you ready to leave? I do still need to pay you back for those drinks.”

They left the bar and Tommy spared one last look at Louis, still flirting up a storm. Then, he wrapped his arm around Evan’s shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss that was just a little too close to indecent for the public. Not that Evan seemed to mind all that much. They only parted when their Uber pulled up, deciding to keep their hands to themselves of the sake of the driver.

I love you, Tommy thought, but didn’t say. Soon, though.

2. Taylor & Wayne

Honestly, the whole day had been a bit of a shit show from the start. First, there'd been no hot water in the apartment this morning, forcing Buck to take a cold shower, then he'd been stuck in traffic for almost an hour, meaning he'd had to forego dropping by the nice coffee shop for his and Eddie's usual order of iced coffee and almond croissants, and then, almost late to the shift, they'd hurried from one call to another – a women going into labour in a swimming pool and almost drowning in her panic, a set of bleachers at a high school collapsing during a school assembly, three overdoses at a homeless shelter because the heroine had been laced with rat poison, a kid getting stuck in an indoor soft play centre.

And now they were here.

Three stations had been called out to the fire, a hotel, no less than two people had apparently tried to escape through the windows and found a swift but gruesome end on the pavement, the hotel manager was missing and no one had a complete list of guests, there was already talk of severe damage to the structural integrity and not risking their lives to safe people that might not even be there. A group of ten to fifteen was trapped on the roof. Air support was already on the way.

And all of it really sucked, because when Buck heard Tommy's voice over the radio, reporting for duty and updating them on the situation, he couldn't even enjoy it. There were people dying in that building. He'd nearly stepped into bits of brain earlier from one of the fall victims.

Also, the press was there, because of course it was.

But Buck was a professional and if he caught a glimpse of red hair between the cameras and microphones and voyeuristic onlookers, he could ignore it. He was here to do his job and do it well.

“Roof cleared, captain,” came Tommy's voice through the radio, a helicopter slowly retreating overhead.

“Any sign of the manager?” asked Bobby.

“Negative.”

“Alright. Good job, Tommy.”

Sometimes, Buck forgot that Tommy used to work under Bobby. Before him. Sometimes he wondered what could have been if Tommy had never left the 118.

“Cap, there are people dying in there, we can't just not go in,” Buck started to argue before Bobby even had a chance to dish out orders.

Then, a section of the hotel collapsed, and they were in a whole new world of trouble.

When they finally got things under control, they were well into overtime, nobody saying a word on the drive back to the station. Buck thought he may or may not have been silently crying, just a little bit, maybe from the exhaustion finally setting in, maybe from grief for people he'd never met and never would meet because he couldn't save them.

The thought of having to get into his car now and driving himself home kind of made him want cry all over again.

They climbed out of truck, him and Eddie all but holding each other up, and Buck knew Eddie wasn't doing all that much better than him, seeing that very particular tension to his shoulders he only ever got when the exhaustion was bone deep and he was close to his breaking point.

“Buckley,” one of the guys on B shift called out for him. Brady or Brad or Brendan. Something starting with a B, anyway. “You got a visitor.”

Brady or Brad or Brendan vaguely pointed upstairs, and Buck's eyes followed the gesture, falling onto Tommy, casually leaning over the banister. Buck's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

He let go of Eddie, all but skipping up the stairs and falling into Tommy's arms. The thing was, Tommy gave excellent hugs, with his bulk and his muscles and his strength.

“What are you doing here?” he muttered into the crook of Tommy's neck.

There was a strong and calloused hand at the back of his head, fingers carding through his hair, and the rumble of Tommy's chest when he answered, “I know that was a bad one. I figured I'd drive you home. Eddie too, if he wants.”

And the thing was also, Buck had never dated anyone like Tommy before, anyone as considerate and sweet and ready to take on some of the load he was carrying around.

The kiss was gratefulness and passion and an unspoken I love you. Someone nearby let out a wolf whistle, but Buck ignored them. They were probably just jealous, anyway.

And it was so easy to get lost in this, the feeling of Tommy's arms around him, keeping him anchored, the feeling of Tommy's lips against his, devouring him, the feeling of their hearts beating in sync.

Then, someone cleared their throat nearby, a pointed and impatient sound, and Buck reluctantly pulled back. He was expecting to see Bobby standing in front of them, or perhaps Hen or Chim, expected the usual exasperation and teasing he was all too used to by now.

Instead, it was none of them.

Instead, it was Taylor Kelly staring at them with something like disbelief painted all over her face. Buck didn't think he'd ever seen her speechless before, and yet here she was. Seemingly lost for words.

And Buck wasn't much better. “Taylor! What – why – what -”

Tommy looked between them, back and forth and back and forth, like he was trying to assess the situation.

With a somewhat pinched twist to her lips that may or may not have been supposed to be a smile, Taylor said, “I was hoping to speak to Captain Nash about the hotel fire.”

Buck knew he made a sound, somewhere between pained and confused. Tommy's hands were still on him, wrapped comfortingly around his hips, and Buck was grateful for the support, worried his legs might give out without it.

Thankfully, Bobby had come up the stairs as well, as had the rest of the team.

“There will be an investigation and a press release,” Bobby informed Taylor, a lot sterner than Buck had ever seen him. “That is all I have to say to you.” And then, as if Taylor wasn't even there, he turned to the others, “I know this was a rough call, everyone, but you all did a good job. Go home. Rest. I will be checking in with you tomorrow to make sure everyone's doing okay.” And then he turned and walked off to his office, presumably to get started on the paperwork a big fire like that always brought about.

Eddie, Ravi, Hen, and Chim waved their goodbyes, making their way back downstairs to hit the showers and get changed.

Taylor did not look happy with the dismissal.

Buck wasn't sure what to do, wanting desperately to go home, but not wanting to leave Tommy alone with her either.

In the end, Tommy made the decision for him -

“Why don't you get out of the turnouts and I'll get us home?” he suggested, kindly but firmly.

Buck nodded, glancing at Taylor again, who waved him off.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything to your boyfriend. Although, I have to say, I'm surprised you have one of those. I didn't know you swung that way.” There was a bite to her voice, but it wasn't any sharper than what Buck was used to from her. Taylor, at her core, was not a kind person. Competent and ambitious and passionate about the things she cared about, but not particularly kind.

And the thing was, Buck still wasn’t all that sure how to deal with things like that, how to say I didn’t know without feeling embarrassed about it, as if I didn’t know was somehow an admission of fault, of failure. Tommy had been helping him with that, had told him all about coming out in his thirties, just like Buck was doing now, and how it was never too late.

Maybe this would be a good place to start.

“I didn’t know.”

At that, Taylor’s mouth opened in a silent O, understanding dawning on her face, before she shut it down, offering him a smile. “Well, now you do.”

“Yeah.” Buck huffed out a laugh. He really hoped his blush wasn’t too visible under all the soot covering his face. “Yeah, now I do.”

There was an awkward moment of silence where neither Buck, nor Taylor, seemed to fully know what to say. They’d parted on not-terrible terms. They’d probably both hoped to never see each other again. Buck knew he hadn’t been the only one at fault for things going sideways, and yet, he would always, always, always regret the way he’d treated her, the way he’d disrespected her, the way he’d broken her trust.

He should probably tell Tommy about the cheating.

And, again, it was Tommy who broke the tension -

“You really should get changed,” he said, his voice pitched low. “It’s not gonna get any easier, and you’re exhausted.”

And he was. The adrenaline had officially left his system, leaving his drained and ready to fall asleep on his feet. Even the thought of getting changed almost felt like too much, but there was no getting around that.

“Alright.”

He pressed a fleeting peck to the corner of Tommy’s mouth and painstakingly made his way downstairs to the changing rooms. He could shower at Tommy’s. Ravi, Hen, and Chim were already gone, by the looks of it, but Eddie was still there, sitting on the bench, like he’d been waiting for Buck.

“You okay?” he immediately asked when Buck entered. “She’s not making any trouble, is she?”

Buck waved him off. “It’s fine. I know you don’t like her, but our breakup wasn’t bad. Just long-overdue.”

Eddie nodded his head, still not moving, instead watching Buck get changed which should have been weird, but wasn’t because it was Eddie.

“Hey,” said Buck, still shirtless, “Tommy offered to give us both a lift, if you want.”

“What about my car?”

“You can get it in the morning,” said Buck with a shrug. “I’m sure he won’t mind driving you back here.”

Still, Eddie didn’t look convinced. “You sure I won’t be in the way?”

“In the way of what? The ten hours of sleep I’m hoping to get, the second I fall into bed?”

“Good point.”

Decision apparently made, Buck haphazardly threw a hoodie on over his bare chest and zipped it up, grabbing his bag, before signalling for Eddie that he was ready to go.

Tommy was waiting for them at his car. He was talking to Taylor.

Buck was still too far away to hear, but the conversation looked civil enough. Tommy wasn’t smiling, exactly, but he wasn’t not smiling either.

“And that’s my cue,” he told Taylor when he spotted Buck and Eddie, one hand already on the doorhandle.

Taylor turned to look at them, looked back at Tommy, and said, “Take care of him. He’s a good man.”

At that, Tommy did smile. “I intend to.”

Taylor left.

Buck hoped he never had to see her again.

“Now,” said Tommy,” Let’s get you two home and tucked in. I’ll even read you a bedtime story, if I need to.”

They climbed into the car, Tommy and Buck in the front, Eddie in the back.

“Buck.” Eddie’s voice was thick and heavy with sleep, and even without looking, Buck knew he had his head resting against the window, ready to close his eyes. “Tell your boyfriend I love him.” The words were followed by a rumbling snore, and Buck smiled.

I love him, too.

The invitation had come as a surprise.

He'd taken Evan out to a nice steakhouse for their six month anniversary the night before, followed by a moonlit stroll through the park, and a couple spectacular orgasms in Tommy's bed.

The next morning, they'd had breakfast and considered what to do with the rest of their day, when Tommy had heard the telltale clatter of his mailbox. He'd ignored it, reckoning that, whatever bills wanted to paid now could wait a couple hours. Instead, he'd popped another piece of bacon into his mouth, and smiled as Evan had rambled on about an art exhibit he'd maybe wanted to go to, not because he had been particularly interested in art, but because Christopher had been getting into painting recently.

And maybe it should have been off-putting, having his boyfriend care so much for someone else's kid as if it was his – they'd cancelled date plans more than once because Eddie had been hard-up for a babysitter, because Chris missed his Buck, because Buck missed his Chris. It should have been off-putting, but it wasn't. It was sweet and heart-warming and only made Tommy fall a little bit more in love every time he saw it.

That's why he'd asked – “Do you want to go to the exhibit?”

And Evan had hemmed and hawed and wrung his hands and said, “We don't have to.”

And Tommy had smiled and said, “We don't, but do you want to?”

Because there was very little he wouldn't do to make Evan happy.

They'd been on their way to leave the house and Tommy had decided to just have a quick look at the mail, and that's when he'd seen the invitation. And it had come as a surprise.

Wayne and Pat, the invite said, are cordially inviting you to the celebration of their wedding.

Tommy knew he was frozen in place, knew he was simply staring at the card, knew he should say something because Evan was watching him now and he was getting worried.

“Tommy?”

Tommy cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Who – who are Wayne and Pat?”

Tommy cleared his throat a second time, still staring at the invite. “Uh – Wayne's an ex.”

There was a beat and even in his silence, Tommy could hear Evan's confusion. “Your ex is inviting you to his wedding?”

“Well. They're already married.” Had already been married, even then. It was complicated.

“Huh.”

Tommy finally looked up, meeting Evan's gaze. He looked like he wasn't sure what to think.

“Do you – do you want to go?”

Did he want to go? He and Wayne had parted on good terms, once Tommy had licked his wounds and treated his broken heart with copious amounts of chocolate and ice cream, anyway. They were friendly, send each other happy birthday and Merry Christmas text every year.

“I don't know,” he said slowly. “But I'm gonna call Wayne later, if that's okay?”

Evan blinked at him. “Of course that's okay.”

They left it at that, going to the art exhibit and getting lunch and not talking about Wayne or the wedding. That didn't mean Tommy didn't think about it, though, and he did call Wayne, that night, making plans to meet up soon and catch up.

They settled on lunch. Evan was going to come with him. And Tommy was not nervous. He wasn’t. There was no reason to be.

The diner was small but nice, a college-aged kid with a whole bunch of piercings greeting them with a smile, telling them to sit wherever, assuring them they’d be right there to take their orders. Tommy barely paid attention, his eyes scanning the room until they fell upon a familiar face.

Wayne hadn’t changed much in the last five years – more grey in his beard, more meat in his midsection, more crows feet around his eyes. He’d be in his 60s now, Tommy thought, and, if anything, he’d only gotten hotter.

He grinned widely when he spotted them.

“Tommy Kinard, as I live and breathe!” There was a rasp to his voice, the cigarettes finally catching up to him, no doubt, and he spread his arms wide to invite Tommy in for a bear-hug. “You look good, kid.”

Five years was a long time, but apparently not long enough to stop the blush now spreading up Tommy’s neck. He very decisively did not look at Evan for his reaction. “So do you.”

Wayne, of course, had no such reservations, his eyes roaming over Evan like he was a particularly juicy piece of meat. “And who’s your boy-toy?”

“Boyfriend,” Evan immediately cut in, that familiar sharpness to his voice that told Tommy he wasn’t exactly happy with the situation. “Evan Buckley. People call me Buck.”

Thankfully, Wayne had never much minded a bit of lip from a pretty face, and that clearly hadn’t changed. He laughed. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Evan Buckley People Call Me Buck,” he said, drawing Evan in for his own hug who looked too shocked and stumped to reject it. “You can wipe that green off your face, I’m not interested in moving in on your man. Been there, done that, or whatever you young folks say these days. Besides, I’m a happily married man.” He waved his hand around, showing off the simple, gold wedding band around his ring finger; the very same he’d worn back when he and Tommy had dated.

“How is Pat?” asked Tommy.

Wayne’s whole face practically melted and gestured towards the table – him on one side, Tommy and Evan on the other. “He’s real good. Retired now. We both are. That’s why we thought we’d do a second wedding. Really commit to it, you know?”

Evan seemed a little more relaxed now, as if talking about Wayne’s husband was soothing some of the bitter jealousy, but he also looked a little puzzled. “So. Wait,” he said, looking back and forth between Tommy and Wayne, “Were you already married when -” He trailed off, letting his hands do the talking by pointing at them.

Tommy’s face felt impossibly hot.

Wayne chuckled. “Separated. We’d been going through a rough patch. Then we gave it another shot.”

The college-aged kid came by with a menu and a notepad to take their orders.

It went smoothly after that. They ate, they drank coffee, they talked about Pat and about Wayne’s retirement, and about Tommy’s and Evan’s jobs. Evan, for his part, seemed to be enjoying himself, actually, laughing at Wayne’s terrible jokes and preening when Wayne called him a pretty boy.

The thing was, Wayne would perhaps always hold a special place in Tommy’s heart because he’d been the first guy he’d properly dated after coming out, both of them trying to find themselves, giving each other comfort and company. It hadn’t lasted and, as Tommy understood more and more now, it hadn’t meant to last. Lasting had never been the point. They’d been there for each other and helped each other when no one else had. And maybe that was special all in its own right.

And they talked about Wayne and Tommy, too, and at first Tommy was worried that hearing about the reality of it, of them as a couple, would be hard for him, but Evan only listened intently and seemed perfectly at ease. Knowing him, he was probably taking mental notes as if there was an exam at the end.

“You take it from someone who’s been doing this for a while now,” Wayne said, more to Evan than Tommy, “Love isn’t something you find. It’s something you build. And it ain’t easy, but you make it worth it.”

And Evan nodded. “You know, you’re actually not the first person to tell me that.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s true! Now, it took me almost losing Pat for good to realise it, but I’m damn glad I did.”

Perhaps it should have stung to hear Wayne talk about him like that, like he was just a footnote in his and Pat’s grand love story, except how could it? Wayne was happy, glowing with it; how could Tommy feel anything but happiness himself? He was a romantic at heart, he knew, in love with love, and even back then – when Wayne had broken up with him to give it another shot with his husband, he’d been sad, sure, but he’d also been hopeful. Because if Wayne could build a love like that, maybe so could he. One day.

He thought, maybe, he’d like to try with Evan now. Thought, maybe, he’d already started.

They finished eating and drank more coffee, and Evan regaled the story of how Tommy and him had met, how they’d started dating -

“I was so jealous, and I didn't even know why.”

“Happens to the best of us, kid. The important thing is that you figured it out.”

- how happy he was now that he’d discovered this part of himself. And the whole time, Tommy was too afraid to speak, lest his heart jump out of his throat from where it was thud-thud-thudding steadily.

Happiness, he thought, could be a violent thing. Overwhelming. And he was still getting used to the feeling.

He excused himself to the bathroom, then, needing just a moment to get himself back under control. The man in the mirror was flushed and Tommy barely recognised him. He was glowing.

He didn't stay in the bathroom for long. Just long enough.

When he returned to the table, Wayne and Evan were deep in conversation, not even noticing him approach. And Tommy didn't mean to overhear, honestly, he didn't.

But they weren't exactly whispering.

But Tommy was right there.

“You seem like a good kid,” Wayne was saying to Evan, a little more serious than before. “I can see how much you care about him. But so do I. Now, I know it might not look it for you, considering, but Tommy means a lot to me. So I'm asking you to keep caring. I think the two of you could build something real special together.”

“I do,” Evan was saying to Wayne, a little more choked up than before, “I will. I'm not going anywhere.”

And whatever Wayne may or may not have said in response, they'd never know, because Tommy was right there, and he couldn't keep listening to them, so he made sure to let his footsteps fall a little heavier than usual when he approached, and he kept his face carefully neutral when he sat back down.

Evan smiled at him, happy and pleased and joyful. Tommy pressed a kiss to his cheek, couldn't help himself.

And when he met Wayne's eyes across the table, he saw pride there.

He'd come a long way from when Wayne had first met him. They both had. They were different people now.

Eventually, they said their goodbyes.

“I'll tell Pat to put you down with a plus one for the wedding,” said Wayne, so certain and confident that, of course Tommy was going to come, Tommy didn't have the heart to tell him he hadn't really decided yet.

“Thank you,” he said instead, and this time it was him spreading his arms for a hug, pulling Wayne in and holding him close. Just for a moment. “Thank you,” he said again, “For everything.”

Wayne shook his head, pulled back a little to look Tommy in the eye. “No. Thank you.”

Evan was keeping a respectable distance, like he truly wanted to give them some privacy, no trace of jealousy in sight that the air had been cleared. Wayne followed his gaze.

Take care of your boy toy, he added teasingly. “I think I like him.”

And Tommy blushed, feeling caught. “I like him too.”

3. Ali & Casey

Tommy's neighbours were remodelling their house and it was, apparently, quite the point of contention in the neighborhood.

“You remember Mrs. Lowe?”

“The old lady who makes you come over to her house to fix stuff every other week so she can ogle you? Yeah, I remember.”

“I'm telling you, Evan, she breaks those things on purpose, and one of these days I will prove it. But yeah, that's her.”

“What'd she do this time?”

“Well, she called me over yesterday to change the batteries in her smoke detectors, even though I could have sworn I only did that six months ago, and she asked me if I had any friends in the police to do something about the new window boxes.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told her that having bad taste isn't a crime but calling emergency services for non-emergencies very much is.”

“So is sexual harassment, you know.”

“Evan -”

“I'm just saying! She keeps inviting you over under falls pretence, to objectify you!”

“I'm aware. But I'm not going to call the cops on her because of it.”

It was a whole thing, this war between Mrs. Lowe and the Dawsons, everyone in the neighborhood was getting tired of it, though not everyone could agree on the reason why, and Buck thought he'd never been quite so entertained in his life. Tommy, of course, didn't find it nearly as funny, but that was because he had to deal with the fallout of every attack and inevitable retaliation, because Buck, he had to occasionally remind himself, didn't actually live there. But that was another conversation for another day.

Like with every war, sometimes there were casualties. There were the silly garden gnomes, kidnapped and held for ransom by Mrs. Lowe, under the conditions the Dawsons put up curtains in their living room window to hide the new, hot-pink colour of the wall – and if Buck was honest, he'd have had to say that he personally liked how vibrant it was, how alive. In retribution, the Dawsons set up a bird feeder right on Mrs. Lowe's front lawn, much to the birds' delight and Mrs Lowe's despair. There was the rather unfortunate hedge incident, and the thing with the bins, and more passive aggressive parking techniques than Buck cared to count. Most recently, however, the focus of Mrs. Lowe's plan of attack had shifted slightly, away from the Dawsons and towards their contractors. One had already quit in tears, as far as Buck knew, and that was why, when it happened, he really shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was a Monday. Buck had just come off a 24 hour shift, and Tommy was on-call, which was the best they could do at the moment if they wanted to spend any time together. Sometimes life was very unfair. They were making do, though, and Buck had stopped by the fancy bakery on the way over for those nice cinnamon rolls and pain au chocolats they’d both become a little obsessed with recently. He was just pulling into Tommy’s driveway, already fantasising about breakfast and a nap with his boyfriend, when he saw it – there was Mrs. Lowe, standing on the side-walk, furiously waving her arms at someone.

Buck rolled his eyes.

The thing about Mrs. Lowe was, she was loud. Her voice carried and Buck got a very clear picture about what exactly she thought of the Dawson’s idea of wild flower beds on their front lawn.

“I have given them a list of acceptable flowers which may be grown in plain sight of the road -”

“Ma’am -”

“- this nonsense is bringing shame over my neighbourhood -”

“- just the interior decorator -”

“- force my hand -”

Buck sighed, deeply and heavily, doing his best to ignore the rather one-sided argument with whatever poor soul had had the misfortune of encountering Mrs. Lowe on her warpath today, and pulled out his key to Tommy’s house. Before he even got as far as putting it in, though, the door already opened and Tommy gave him a lopsided smile.

“I was waiting for you to get here,” he explained, hands reaching out to pull Buck all the way inside.

“Oh?” Buck asked, leaning in close, but not quite close enough, enjoying the growing tension as they both hovered on the precipice of what was promising to be a satisfying kiss-hello. “Did you miss me?”

Tommy grinned, his eyes crinkling in the corners in that way they did that always got Buck a little weak in the knees. He moved in, breath ghosting over Buck’s lips. “No,” he whispered, and then the bag of pastries was ripped from Buck’s hand. “But I was hungry.”

“Hey!” Buck tried and failed to sound truly offended, his hands reaching out to reel Tommy back in.

He went willingly, because of course he did, and then the pastries were all forgotten when they finally did kiss.

And Buck loved the way Tommy kissed him, the way it made him feel like flying and falling all at once, the way he was being devoured.

Unfortunately, however, they also needed to breathe, and eventually parted.

“How was your shift?” asked Tommy, still staying close.

“Did you know,” said Buck, “That former president Andrew Jackson had a pet parrot that allegedly started cursing at his funeral?”

Tommy blinked, pulling back a little further. “I did not know that,” he answered, clearly amused. “But you can tell me all about it over breakfast. I really am hungry.”

Buck nodded, stealing one last kiss before pulling Tommy along with him towards the kitchen. He was also starting to feel a little hungry, truth be told.

That's when they heard the scream.

Buck wasn't sure who moved first, him or Tommy, both acting purely on instinct as they flung open the front door to rush outside.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” a second voice, panicked and close by, called out. It sounded vaguely familiar, Buck thought, but he couldn't really focus on that right now.

It was Tommy who spotted them, grabbing Buck's hand and together they jogged down the driveway and to the Dawson's house next door where Mrs. Lower was currently lying on her side, groaning in pain.

“Don't sit up yet,” Buck quickly called out, rushing to her side.

There was no blood, as far as he could see, and she was conscious, which was always a good sign.

“Where does it hurt?” asked Tommy, kneeling on her other side. He was all business and rapid attention, which Buck was trying not to think about too much right now because it made him feel things wildly inappropriate for the situation at hand.

“My – my hip,” she answered, “And my leg. Oh, goodness, this is embarrassing, isn't it?”

“Not at all,” Buck assured her, letting Tommy do the examination of her hip while he took her pulse. It was steady but fast. Not unexpected, considering the circumstances.

“You may have broken something,” Tommy stated carefully, his fingers gingerly prodding Mrs. Lowe while his eyes scanned back and forth between her abdomen and her face, no doubt looking for a reaction to find out where it hurt the most.

“I'm calling 911,” the other woman announced, and why did she sound so familiar?

Buck looked up, did a double-take, did a tripple-take, but there was no doubt.

That was Ali.

“Ali?”

“H – hey Buck,” she said awkwardly, her smile tight, her phone pressed to her ear. Then the call must have connected because she quickly turned her back and started giving the dispatcher the address and details of the emergency.

“I think you're gonna be just fine,” he heard Tommy say. “The ambulance will be here soon, and they'll take great care of you.”

“Is there anyone you need us to call?” Buck asked. “Any family or – or friends?”

Mrs. Lower shook her head and Buck didn't like her, really he didn't, but his heart seized at the thought of being that alone, of not having anyone to call of something happened to him, having no one there to visit him in the hospital.

“I'll make sure to water the plants for you,” Tommy immediately offered, like he didn't even need to think about it.

“Oh, that's too kind. Thank you.”

“Don't mention, Mrs. Lowe. You just focus on getting better now, okay?”

The ambulance was close. Buck could hear them, the tell-tale blaring of sirens closing in. Then, he spotted the flashing lights, and stood up to wave them down.

It didn't take long, in the end, for the paramedics to load Mrs. Lowe into the back of the ambulance. Buck thought he recognised them from a more recent call, but they didn't stay to chat, and Buck wasn't about to keep them from doing their job.

When they'd left, though, he kind of wished he had. Because now it was just him and Tommy and Ali, all standing on the front lawn of the Dawson's house.

Ali was looking at him. She'd gotten a little older, these last few years, her hair longer and back to blonde, a pair of glasses sitting on her nose, a wedding ring on her finger.

“Hey,” she said again, a little more steady now that the emergency was over.

“Hey,” Buck responded, a little less steady now that the emergency was over.

“I didn't know you'd moved to this area.”

“I didn't.”

Tommy, Buck was painfully aware, was watching both of them, back and forth and back forth his eyes went while the cogs in his brain churned. It wouldn't take him long to come to the right conclusion, Buck knew.

And then there it was. “Oh,” he said, “Another ex?”

“Excuse me?” Ali asked, clearly taken aback.

Tommy chuckled. It was unclear if it was at her reaction, at Buck's awkwardness, or himself. “It's becoming quite the common occurrence,” he said to Ali, before looking at Buck. “You have that face again.”

“Face? What face? I don't have a face!”

“You do! I personal like to call it the oh shit, I am deeply uncomfortable with what is happening and I would like it to stop face. You get the same one when your parents call.”

And Buck would have liked to say, I love you. I love that you know so well. I love that you can read me like this. I love that you get in a way so few people do.

But what he ended up saying was, “That's a very long name for something that doesn't exist.”

Tommy smile indulgently at the protest, which hadn't quite been the intended effect, but he was handsome when he smiled, and Buck was only human, so it wasn't like he could really complain.

And then Tommy turned back to Ali, and offered her his hand. “Tommy. I live next door.”

Hesitantly, Ali accepted the handshake. “Ali,” she said, “I'm the interior decorator for the Dawsons.”

Tommy hummed. “I'd say I've heard a lot about you, but I haven't,” he said, casually and like it wasn't rude. “What happened here?” He waved his hand at the ground where Mrs. Lowe had laid.

If his words stung at all, Ali didn't show it, instead she looked almost amused by him, before her face became serious again. “I – I'm not sure what happened, to be honest. We were just talking and she threatened to call the police, I think? But she must have tripped and then she fell.”

“It happens,” said Tommy. “She's gonna be okay.”

“I'm just glad you two were here to help.” She looked at Buck again, then, her eyes searching, lingering on his leg. “Are you still -” She trailed off, but Buck heard the unasked question anyway.

“Still a firefighter,” he announced with pride and a kind of petty satisfaction that she'd been wrong to think he'd needed to find something else. “Leg's fully healed. I did almost die from a blot clot afterwards. Then I actually died from a lightning strike, but I got better.”

Perhaps he shouldn't be so blasé about it. He knew both Eddie and Maddie routinely told him to take his own health more seriously, and Tommy wasn't all that fond of these kind of jokes either, but Buck couldn't help himself. Besides, he was fine now.

And, as expected, Tommy gave him a little frown, having heard all about the various hospital trips over the years. He didn't say anything, though, which Buck appreciated.

Ali, on the other hand, looked sick. Her face had turned ashen and pale, her eyes wide. Buck had never been so glad that a relationship hadn't worked out, because she would have been miserable with him.

“I – I -” she stammered, running a hand through her hair, the wedding ring glinting in the sun. “I'm glad you're okay, Buck. Really.”

Buck gave her a smile, nodding at her hand. “Who's the lucky guy?”

Ali chuckled, looking at her own wedding ring. “His name's Phillip. He's a make-up artist.”

“No risk of getting crushed by municipal equipment, then,” Buck joked, and it made her laugh.

“Not so much. No.”

“Good. That's good.” Because Buck had never wanted her to be miserable. Because it hadn't been anybody's fault that they just weren't compatible.

He glanced at Tommy, then, who understood the job because he was in it, who understood the need to be out there because he had it too, who understood doing something even when it was dangerous because it was the right thing to do. And Tommy was already looking back at him, watching him, cataloguing his every word, his moves, his reactions, like he was studying him. Like he was looking for something.

Buck raised his eyebrows in silent question – What?

Tommy smiled, soft and fond, shaking his head in and equally silent answer – Later.

Then, Tommy turned back to Ali, and asked, “Do you want to come inside for a coffee? We were just about to have breakfast but I'm sure there's enough for three.”

Buck choked on nothing at all, because that was not what he'd expected, and Ali looked just as stumped, blinking rapidly at Tommy.

“I – I couldn't,” she answered, looking back and forth between Buck and Tommy.

Tommy shrugged. “Sure you could.” As if he was purposefully refusing to hear the implied answer of I don't want to. He probably was.

Ali opened her mouth, closed it again, looked at Buck, looked back at Tommy. Then, she decisively shook her head. “Thank you,” she said, “But I'm okay.”

Tommy took it in stride. “Fair enough,” he said.

“Thank you, again, for being here and for helping. I wouldn't have known what to do.”

“It is our job,” Buck joked. “And you did fine. You called 911.”

Ali chuckled at him. “I really am glad you got better and that you didn't lose your job in the end. I know how much it means to you.”

There was a hand on the small of his back, large and calloused and strong, offering silent comfort, and Buck was so grateful. He was so grateful for Tommy, because Tommy got it, Tommy got him, Tommy got that being a firefighter wasn't just a job but so much more. It was his life. He stepped closer into the touch, allowing Tommy's hand to fully wrap around his waist without even thinking about it. Ali, he noticed, tracked the movement with her eyes, but said nothing. She just smiled.

“I won't keep you any longer,” she said. “It was nice seeing you again, Buck.”

“You too,” said Buck, not even all that surprised to find that he meant it. He and Ali hadn't been meant to be, and their break up had been unfortunate but inevitable. He was happy for her, that she'd found someone she could love without being afraid.

They said their goodbyes, then, and Tommy gently steered Buck back to the house, his hand never once leaving his waist.

The front door still stood wide open, the bag of pastries haphazardly thrown on the kitchen counter.

Before Buck could reach for the bag, however, Tommy pulled him back in for a sweet, chaste kiss.

“That was the most relaxed I've seen you around one of your exes so far,” he observed, one hand coming up to run through Buck's hair.

Buck shrugged. “We weren't together that long, and it was a while ago. Besides, we wouldn't have lasted anyway.”

“What happened?”

“She couldn't handle the job,” Buck answered. “I got hurt and I think it got a little too real for her.”

Tommy hummed in understanding. “It's not for everyone.”

“Lucky for me that I won't have to worry about that with you.”

“Lucky for you?” Tommy asked, hand still carding Buck's hair. “Lucky for me.”

Buck smiled. “Lucky for both of us, maybe,” he muttered, leaning in for another kiss.

Then, his stomach rumbled. Loudly.

Both Buck and Tommy laughed, foreheads pressing together.

“Breakfast and a nap?” Tommy suggested.

“Breakfast and a nap,” Buck agreed.

So that’s what they did. They had breakfast, and then they had a nap, and later, when Buck woke up with his head resting on Tommy’s chest and Tommy’s arms safely wrapped around him, Buck couldn’t help but think that he really was the luckiest person on Earth.

It was always a bad sign when there was more than one station at the call, and even worse sign when air support got called in.

This was one of them.

Mount Lee was on fire and a school bus of 25 sixth graders was missing somewhere in the blaze down below.

Flying over the mountain and the woods, Tommy had briefly spotted the 118 truck, parked haphazardly next to the 115, and had had the absolutely insane urge to pull out his phone and call Evan. Make sure he was doing okay. Make sure Eddie was doing okay, too. He knew the two of them always took it a little harder when there was children involved.

He hadn't called, of course. He couldn't. He had a job to to.

Over the radio, disembodied voices gave status updates on the fire – southside under control and we need assistance on the east flank and we found two hikers with moderate smoke inhalation, ambulance requested – while Tommy remained calm and cool and collected, because he had to, his own updates echoing only one thing over and over and over again – no updates, yet. Sometimes, it was Evan's voice he heard, and Tommy held on to the sound of it every time, because if Evan was talking, Evan was okay.

He'd never really considered before how nerve-wracking it would be to be so close and yet so far away from Evan, to be there but not be there while Evan risked his life, to listen and watch, like a bystander, with no way of helping. Because there was fuck-all Tommy could do from up here. And, not for the first time, he found himself envious of everyone in the 118, of how they could be there, right by his side, right in the thick of it.

But he had a job to do.

Then – “We found one of the kids. I repeat, we found one of the kids. She's alive.”

And then – “This is Diaz and Buckley, we're on our way back now, escorting ten additional children. Have paramedics on standby when we get there.”

And then – “Kinard here, I'm detecting movement down there. I think I found the last kid.”

Things went faster after that. All 25 children were brought to the hospital with no major injuries, and when Evan and Eddie reported they were clear of the woods, Tommy let out a breath of relief.

One hour later, he received a text from Evan, inviting him to some celebratory drinks at one of the badge and ladder bars, for a job well done. Tommy accepted readily, eager to see for himself that Evan was still in one piece. Besides, he liked spending time with the 118.

The bar was busy when he got there, filled with familiar faces, but Tommy didn't stop to say hello to any of them, eyes scanning the room for Evan. He found him sitting at the far end, surrounded by his team, his smile lighting up everything around him. Somehow, impossibly so, it grew even bigger when he spotted him.

“Tommy!” Buck’s face was adorably flushed, his eyes already a little glassy, the hands reaching out for him more uncoordinated than usually.

Tommy laughed, stepping close and enjoying Evan’s joyful attention for a moment, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Looks like you’re already having a good time,” he teased.

Evan nodded. “We saved them. All of them.”

“You sure did.”

“No,” said Evan, shaking his head. He was swaying back and forth on his feet, and Tommy quickly steadied him, “We did.”

Tommy opened his mouth, perhaps to point put that he really hadn’t done all that much, perhaps to tell Evan how he’d worried about him, when a hand landed on his shoulder and he came face to face with Bobby, smiling at him with pride.

“You did good, Kinard,” he said. “What are you drinking?”

“Just a coke,” said Tommy, “I think I’ll be the driver for the night.” Then, he glanced at Evan, the way he was draining the last of his beer, the two other empty glasses already sitting in front of him, and added, “And maybe some water as well.”

“You got it.”

Now that he had Evan in his arms, sound and safe and secure, all limbs still attached and not a hair out of place, Tommy directed his attention to the rest of the table. Eddie was sitting to Evan's other side, Hen and Howie across from them. Tommy wasn't sure where everyone else was, if they'd come out or if they'd gotten lost in the crowd around them.

The bar was loud, music and chatter and laughter all around them, but Tommy ignored all of it in favour of listening to Evan recount the story of how he'd found one of the missing kids hiding in a creek. He looked so happy, so elated, the way he moved his hands to make a point, the way his smile never wavered, the way he pressed himself into Tommy's side.

He looked beautiful.

But here was something else. A slight pickle in the back of his neck, like he was being watched.

Reluctantly, Tommy tore his eyes away from his boyfriend to scan the room once more – there was Sergeant Grant, talking to a young man Tommy didn't recognise, there was Bobby, making his way back to the table with Tommy's coke and Evan's water, and there, behind Bobby, sitting at the bar, was Casey.

Tommy stilled.

The thing was, he'd been aware that Casey was still around, had heard his name through the grapevine more than once over the years, but Harbor had always kept itself to itself and it was easy to not really interact with the rest of the LAFD, which was exactly why Tommy had picked it for his transfer all those years ago. He'd needed the distance to sort himself out.

And the thing was also, he hadn't once spoke about Casey until a few weeks ago when Evan had told him about Lucy.

“I cheated on Taylor,” he'd said, shame and embarrassed and something like fear in his voice. “I kissed someone else and then I panicked and asked Taylor to move in with me.”

And Tommy had hummed and nodded and hugged Evan closely and said, “I cheated on my last girlfriend. He was a firefighter in the 115. We met at a bar after a call. I never told her.”

They'd met in this bar. And despite the guilt and the knowledge that it had been wrong, Tommy had never quite been able to regret it because Casey had been the one to open his eyes about so many things he'd been trying to hide and ignore.

And now there he was – sitting right where he'd say so long ago, staring at Tommy the same he had back then.

And Tommy was staring back.

Slowly, hesitantly, Casey raised his drink in a silent cheers.

Tommy stood. He didn't even realise he was doing it until Evan tugged on his sleeve and sent him a questions look.

“I'll be right back,” said Tommy, not sure if Evan could even hear him over the noise, but he didn't wait to check.

Instead, he weaved his way through the crowd, until he stood in front of Casey.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“It's been a while,” said Tommy, feeling incredibly dumb and wrong-footed. He wasn't even sure why he'd walked over here, except that he maybe wanted to thank Casey, maybe wanted to apologise to him.

“It has,” said Casey with a laugh. “Do you want a drink?”

“I'm okay. I just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello.”

“How are you?”

“I'm good,” said Casey, an easy smile on his face.

And Tommy was glad. Their relationship had been brief and messy and intense and Tommy knew he'd hurt him, knew he'd been unfair to him, knew he'd made him a little bit unhappy. It wasn't always easy to love someone who hated themselves.

Casey's eyes wandered, then, away from Tommy and towards what Tommy assumed was the 118 table, towards Evan.

“What's his name?” he asked.

“Evan Buckley.”

“You look happy together.”

“We are.”

And when Casey met his eyes again, there was no trace of that hurt left, only joy and something like pride.

“Good. You deserve to be happy.”

“So do you,” Tommy found himself saying. “Casey, I -”

“Tommy!” Evan's voice was loud in his ear, immediately followed by two strong arms around his midsection and a chin tucked over his shoulder. “You left!”

Tommy craned his neck a little to see Evan pout at him. “Sorry. I'll be back in a second, okay? I just wanted to say hello to Casey here.”

“Hello Casey!” Evan beamed, waving at him.

“Hello Evan,” said Casey politely, chuckling a little at Evan's drunken antics.

“Buck. Everyone calls me Buck.”

One of these days Tommy would ask why he was allowed to call him Evan when so few people had that right. But tonight wouldn't be it.

“Hello Buck,” Casey corrected himself.

“Hello Casey,” Evan said again, like he'd forgotten he'd already said it. Then, he made a valiant attempt at pointing a finger at Casey, but missing his target a little bit. “You're the guy Tommy cheated with!”

Tommy winced at the reminder and the volume of Evan's voice, and Casey laughed awkwardly, looking at Tommy again.

“Yeah,” he said, “I guess I am.”

It had probably been the biggest point of conflict between them, the fact that Tommy was cheating, the fact that Tommy was keeping Casey secret, the fact that Tommy had been ashamed of him.

If Casey hadn't ended things the way he had, Tommy wasn't sure he'd have ever made the transfer request, wasn't sure he'd ever have broken up with Abby, wasn't sure he'd ever have come out. His life could have been so very differently.

“I wanted to thank you,” he finally said, “And I wanted to apologise.”

Casey tried to wave him off. “Water under the bridge.”

“Maybe,” Tommy conceded. “But I think I owe you my life, in a way. You made me realise that I couldn't keep going the way I was. I wouldn't be here without you.” Perhaps quite literally, even. “So thank you. And I'm sorry for the way I treated you. You didn't deserve that.”

“It's okay, Tommy. It all worked out in the end.”

It did, Tommy thought, taking comfort in the weight and feel and warmth of Evan's chest pressed against his back and the way Evan's stubble scratched the skin along his neck, it really did.

“You should join us,” Evan offered, then, and maybe this was payback for when Tommy offered the interior decorator ex coffee and breakfast.

Thankfully, though, Casey declined. “I'm okay. Have a good night. Both of you.”

“You too,” said Tommy.

They returned to their table, then, and Tommy bullied Evan into drinking two glasses of water before he was allowed any more alcohol. Evan did the same to Eddie. Eddie complained loudly about being an adult who could make his own decisions.

It wasn't until later, when Tommy was driving them home and Evan was all but falling asleep in the passenger seat, that he brought Casey up again.

“I did meet another one of your exes, right?” Evan asked, considerably more sober now. “I didn't imagine that?”

Tommy chuckled. “You didn't imagine it, no.”

“Tell me about him.”

Tommy glanced at Evan, taking in the near liquid state of his limbs, the way he'd wrapped himself in Tommy's jacket even though it really wasn't cold, the way he looked content and happy.

“Are you sure?”

Evan hummed. “He was your first, right?”

“He was.”

“Then that means he was special. I want to hear about him.”

He sounded sure, and Tommy trusted Evan, so he told him – he told him about meeting Casey in that very bar, about going home with him, about seeing him again and again and again, told him about the double life he'd led for too many months, the fear and shame and self-loathing, told him about having dinner with his girlfriend and then giving a blowjob to Casey not an hour later, about cancelling on his girlfriend to meet up with Casey and then apologising with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers, about kissing his girlfriend while Casey's spit was still drying on his lips, he told him about the fights he and Casey had had.

And he told him about the breakup.

“You hate yourself so much,” Casey had said, not even angry anymore, but resigned. Exhausted. “I can't be part of that anymore.”

“The next day,” he told Evan, “I broke up with my girlfriend and gave Bobby my transfer request.”

There was a long moment of silence and if it weren't for the way Evan was watching him, Tommy might have assumed he'd fallen asleep against the passenger door.

They'd arrived at Tommy's house quite a while ago, car parked in the driveway, but neither had made any move to get out yet, too wrapped up in Tommy's story.

Then, his voice nothing more than a whisper, Evan asked, “Would it be weird if I said I'm glad? I don't mean -” He quickly tagged on, a little more alert now, trying to explain himself, even though Tommy didn't think he needed to. “- You were in pain, and I don't like that, but I just mean -”

“I know what you mean,” Tommy assured him, because he did. Because he was glad too. “I'm glad too. In a way. Who knows where I'd have ended up if it wasn't for Casey. If I hadn't met him when I did. I probably wouldn't be here with you.”

“That's not a chance I’d want to take.”

“Me neither.”

And then Evan yawned. Loudly. He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “I am so sorry,” he said, muffled but audible.

Tommy laughed, his heart melting in his chest. “I think it's well past your bedtime, kid,” he teased.

Evan sent him a half-hearted glare, but didn't further protest when Tommy gently headed him out of the car and into the house.

They stood side by side in the bathroom to brush their teeth, stood side by side in the bedroom to change their clothes, climbed side by side into bed to go to sleep.

“Tommy?” asked Evan into the peace and quiet that had settled over them. “Thank you for the water.”

“Any time, Evan.”

1. Abby

Buck had always had a conflicted relationship with surprises. If he knew there was a surprise coming. He liked the anticipation, of course he did, but he didn't like the way his brain would go into overdrive, trying to figure out what it was before it was revealed, didn't like, also, the way he needed to prepare himself in case he didn't like the surprise, the way he needed to act like he did.

When Tommy had told him he had a surprise for him, Buck had panicked. Just a little.

“Why do you look like I just announced a natural disaster is about hit?” Tommy had asked, then, because he knew Buck.

“I don't always like surprises,” Buck had replied and felt so incredibly silly for it.

And Tommy had hummed and smiled and kissed him and asked, “Would it help you to know that the surprise involves a fancy restaurant?”

“You're taking me out to dinner?”

“Fancy dinner.”

“I can do fancy dinner.”

And so that's what they did.

The restaurant really was fancy – the kind of place that didn't even put the prices on the menu which, in Buck's experience, was always a bad sign, but he wasn't the one paying, so he decided not to worry about it too much. Besides. Tommy looked incredible in a suit.

“I don't think I've ever been in a place like this before.”

The room was tall and spacious, each table decorated with candles, the walls hung with copies of famous art pieces. From somewhere in the front, a pianist was playing classical music.

“If you like it, we can always come back.”

Buck liked that, the sound of always.

Eddie had recently been urging him to buck up, as he put, and put his feelings into words because you guys are going at a snails pace, man, glaciers move faster than you. And he wasn't wrong, of course. Buck had rushed into relationships so many times now, he may or may not have over-corrected just a little bit this time around, which meant he and Tommy were almost a year into dating and neither had said the l-word yet. It was there. Buck knew it was there. Buck knew he was feeling it, every second of every day, knew also, with a certainty that still surprised him sometimes, that Tommy was feeling it too, because Tommy didn't ever bother hiding his feelings, even when he didn't always say them out loud. It was there, though, in the way he looked at Buck, the way he smiled at Buck, the way he kissed Buck.

Tommy loved him.

And he loved Tommy.

It should have been easy.

And yet, whenever he was about to say the words, something happened. A month ago, they'd been at the loft, sharing a beer after a, if Buck could say so himself, excellent home-cooked meal, winding down for the evening with a chance of sexy time, and Buck had had it all planned out, the way he was going to say it, the words, those words, but then Chim had called in a panic because Buck's and Maddie's mum's birthday was coming up and Chim wanted to impress her but had no idea what to get. A week ago, they'd been on a video chat in work towards the tail-end of a 48 hour shift, and the words had been right there, sitting on the tip of Buck's tongue, only waiting to tumble out, but then the alarm had gone off and the car pile up they'd been called out to had pushed them into overtime. A day ago, they'd laid in bed, enjoying a slow morning, trading lazy kisses and giggles, and the words had echoes through his mind, louder and louder and louder, and so impossible to ignore, but then Chris had called and asked him to chaperone a school trip to the planetarium.

Right now, they were eating fancy dinner at a fancy restaurant, and Buck thought, this is it, because this may have been Tommy's surprise, but that didn't mean Buck couldn't use a good opportunity when it presented it to him.

He was going to say it.

“Tommy, I -”

“Buck?”

So, Tommy hadn't been lying, per se, when he'd told Evan that his surprise involved a fancy restaurant. They rarely ever got up to anything this special because while being a firefighter and giving the occasional flying lesson might have paid the bills just fine, Tommy wouldn't have exactly considered himself rich. It was just that the restaurant wasn't the whole surprise, perhaps. There was a key to his house currently burning a whole into his pocket.

He was fairly certain that Evan would accept the key, would perhaps even be open to the possibility of moving in sooner rather than later, but that didn't mean that Tommy wasn't at least a little bit nervous. He'd never had a boyfriend like Evan before, never met anyone quite as passionate, quite as loyal, quite as dedicated as Evan. He knew this was it. For him, Evan was it.

Evan, for his part, was oblivious to the turmoil Tommy was experiencing, happily chatting away about the school trip to the planetarium he was going to be chaperoning soon, a school trip which he, frankly, seemed more excited about than Christopher.

And Tommy had never loved anyone the way he loved Evan.

He was going to ask, wasn't even going to wait until after dinner, because he couldn't wait.

And then Evan said, “Tommy, I -”

And then there was a voice was eerily familiar and much too close. “Buck?”

Tommy whipped his head around, his knee jerking up and making the whole table rattle. He couldn't even be embarrassed about it, though, because there stood the ghost of a woman he thought he'd never see again.

“Abby?”

Abby's eyes were wide and filled with something like shock, jumping back and forth between him and Evan, her mouth moving but no words coming out.

“You two know each other?” Evan asked, sounding just as surprised and wrong-footed as Tommy felt.

“We do,” Tommy answered slowly, “She – uh – she's the girlfriend I mentioned.”

Evan blinked. “The one you -”

“Yes,” Tommy cut in sharply before Evan could finish the sentence because Abby didn't know, because Tommy hadn't told her the real reason when he'd broken up with her, had simply said I'm sorry and I need to go.

He couldn't look at Abby, not when Evan was so pale and so stumped. He wished he could reach out to take his hand, to offer comfort, but for the first time in a long time the thought of doing it filled him with dread because Abby didn't know.

“Tommy,” Evan whispered, his eyes now distant, like he was deep in thought. Then, he looked up at Abby. “Tommy! He was your Tommy.”

Tommy frowned, but said nothing because it clearly hadn't been meant for him.

“He was,” Abby answered.

“You never told me he was a firefighter, too.”

“It – uh – it never came up. Buck, there's a lot I didn't tell you about my past relationships, because we never really talked about those.”

That's when it clicked that this was one of those encounters, that Abby wasn't just his ex, but that she was also Evan's.

“Yeah, no, I know,” Evan conceded. “I guess I just – wasn't expecting this.”

The words, though not directed at him, startled a laugh out of Tommy, a little hysterical, a little unhinged. Evan shot him a look, clearly concerned, and Tommy couldn't even blame him because he was concerned too. Briefly, he wondered if he could make a run for the door, maybe excuse himself to the bathroom and climb out the window.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” he heard Evan ask, “I thought you and – and Sam lived in Phoenix?” There was an edge to his voice, but it was different, not out of jealousy but protectiveness. Stepping out to be his shield without hesitation or question.

And somewhere far off in the distance, he could hear Abby's answer – something about Abby's husband in Phoenix and Abby's husband's daughter in LA – but Tommy wasn't really listening because Abby didn't know, was never supposed to know, was going to figure it out now anyway, and he needed to tell her.

Underneath the table, Evan's foot gently pressed against his ankle, and Tommy allowed himself to breathe.

“Anyway,” said Abby, and when Tommy looked at her, her smile looked thin and awkward, I didn't mean to interrupt. “I – I really just wanted to say hello. Sam is waiting for me.”

She was going to leave. Tommy knew she was going to leave, and that should have been a relief, but now that he'd thought I need to tell her, he couldn't stop thinking it.

“Why don't you join us,” he blurted out, startling himself, Evan, and Abby. But he doubled down, “You and Sam. Why don't you join us?”

Evan frowned at him, a silent question – are you sure – and Tommy gave him a minute nod. Then, he turned back to Abby.

She looked stumped, searching his face, but eventually shrugged. “Sure,” she said, “Why not?”

Tommy could think of several reasons why not but didn't offer any of them.

They relocated to bigger table, Evan and Tommy sitting on one side, Abby and Sam on the other, and Tommy already regretted all his life choices that that led him to this very moment.

Buck hadn't spared much thought to Abby after their final conversation. He'd gotten his closure, or as close to it as he would probably every get. Tommy, though, clearly hadn't. That's why Buck went along with this.

He clasped Tommy's hand tightly underneath the table, offering silent comfort and support.

“Buck,” Sam said, “I never got to thank you properly after the train. You saved my life.”

“I was just doing my job,” Buck tried to wave him off, very pointedly not thinking about the reality of that night – the easiest option would have been choosing one of them. But then again, Buck had never been one to chose the easy way out.

Sam knew it, too. “I think it was a little more than that. Thank you.”

Looking at Abby didn't hurt anymore. He'd made peace with it, with her. And, in a way, he was grateful, because if she hadn't left, he wouldn't be here now.

There was something Dr. Copeland had said to him once – “Just because a person has left your life, doesn't mean their presence in it was meaningless.”

Abby had left, but that didn't mean she hadn't been important, didn't mean she hadn't meant something, didn't mean the memories he had of her, of them, stopped existing.

Sometimes, people left, and it hurt, but maybe it was worth it just to have those people around for a moment, to share some time with them, to have them be a part of life, however fleeting.

That being said, Buck still had nightmares sometimes about his friends and his family waking up one day and deciding that he wasn't worth it. He was working on it.

Tommy, though. Tommy had been the one to leave, the one to cheat, the one to lie, and he'd clearly never quite gotten over the guilt of that. Buck knew a thing or two about guilt. They'd talked about it, was the thing, the Casey of it all. Tommy had told him about the affair, about being so scared of what it meant, about hating himself for being the way he was. And Buck knew a think or two about hating himself, as well.

They both better now, different people than they’d used to be, but the memory of it stayed, and Buck understood that meeting Abby again like this was hard.

“Evan is very familiar with big, high-stakes rescues,” Tommy offered, “Last year he and his team flew out into a hurricane to look for a sinking cruise ship off the coast of Mexico.”

That got a big wave of ohs and ahs from Abby and Sam, while Buck ignored the heat rising up his cheeks. “You should probably mention that you were the one flying us. Tommy’s a pilot with the LAFD Air Support,” he explained, feeling pretty satisfied when Sam in particular gave Tommy an impressed look.

Talking about the job was easy, then. Between him and Tommy, they had hours worth of stories about rescues that ranged from ridiculous to horrifying, and Buck was honestly glad that he they weren't sitting in awkward silence. Tommy seemed to share the sentiment, his thigh pressed to Buck's since both his hands were occupied with the cutlery, but he seemed a lot more relaxed now, his smiling looking almost natural, if a little dim.

And Abby and Sam were good listeners. Abby was already familiar with the particular brand of crazy that came with being a first responder, and not much could shock her, but she did raise a couple eyebrows when Buck recounted being struck by lightning or being at the Bachelor Mansion.

The food was good, too. Buck tried hard not to feel bitter that it wasn't just him and Tommy, that his plans to finally tell Tommy how he felt had been derailed yet again, but, he supposed, he could always say it afterwards.

“And – uh – what about you? Abby said your daughter is in UCLA?” he asked when their plates were almost empty.

Sam, proud father that he was, immediately launched into a story of his two girls, how smart they were, how capable and strong and amazing.

“Do you two have children?” Sam asked, then, and just like that, the mood shifted. The air at the table grew thick with tension, Abby winced slightly, her eyes jumping to Tommy who looked at Buck who almost choked on his own tongue.

“No,” he managed to say, because he wasn't going to explain that he was kind of, maybe, technically co-parenting a kid with his best friend and that his boyfriend occasionally got to play cool uncle Tommy. Because that was none of their business.

Sam, to his credit, seemed to have realised his own misstep and lowered his gaze to the table, shoulders drawn up to his head. Hastily, he reached for his glass of water.

And missed.

“Oh goodness!” Sam cried out when his shirt got drenched, his face now bright red.

Abby immediately reached for the napkins on the table and one of the waiters hurried over to see what was happening.

“I am so sorry,” Sam apologised, whether to the waiter or to Abby or to them was unclear. Then, he addressed the waiter, “Would you mind showing me to the restroom, please?”

“Right this way, sir.”

Sam followed the waiter, Abby still patting the wet tablecloth with a napkin, and Buck started giggling. It was quiet at first, a mere shake in his shoulders as he tried to keep the sounds inside, but then Tommy looked at him and his eyes were crinkled in the corners and he was smiling, and Buck couldn't help himself any longer. And once Buck had started laughing, so was Tommy, so Abby across the table.

And that felt good. Nice. This whole situation was ridiculous and it helped now to acknowledge it.

And then Tommy took a deep breath and said, “Abby, I owe you an apology.”

“Abby, I owe you an apology,” said Tommy, and he was proud of the way his voice sounded steady and confident, even with the way his heart beat rapidly in his chest. His knuckles were white around the cutlery and he gently put it down, hiding his hands beneath the table to hide the trembling.

Abby's laugh faded, her eyes fixed on him now. She shook her head. “It's okay, Tommy, you don't have to explain,” she said, looking back and forth between him and Evan, as if Tommy was going to apologise for Evan.

“I cheated on you,” he said bluntly, before he could lose his nerves.

“Oh.” Abby had gone completely still, may have even stopped breathing. Tommy had no idea how to read her face anymore, if she was angry, if she was sad, if she felt anything at all.

Under the table, he blindly reached for Evan's hand and squeezed. Evan squeezed back. He'd also gone still and he wasn't saying anything, which was always mildly concerning, because Evan was a talker, and Tommy like that about him.

Right now, he kind of, almost, appreciated the silence, the chance to talk himself.

“I'm sorry, Abby.”

Abby nodded, her eyes turned distant. “I -” she began, interrupting herself, then tried again, “Sometimes I wondered,” she said, “If there was someone else.” She let out a sad chuckle. “You were so distant, Tommy. Towards the end. I – I think some part of me knew that there was something you weren't telling me.

There'd been many things he hadn't told Abby, many parts of himself he'd buried so deep in hopes of forgetting they even existed.

“Who was he?” Abby asked gently.

Evan gave his hand another squeeze and Tommy found comfort in it, strength to take another breath and say, “Another firefighter. We saw each other for a few months. Then he broke it off and I -” He faltered, the words getting stuck somewhere in his throat.

Abby understood, though. “You broke up with me,” she said, not even phrasing it as a question.

Tommy nodded. “I broke up with you. I gave Bobby my transfer request. I stopped talking to pretty much everyone I knew, moved to a different part of town, I – I needed a fresh start.”

“I understand,” said Abby, her gaze now flickering to Evan, a sad smile curling around her lips. “Sometimes you have to get away from everything you know to find yourself again.”

“Yeah.”

Evan had told him a little bit about how Abby had gotten away from him, how she'd boarded a plane and then never came back. And as much as Tommy wanted to be angry with her for it, for hurting Evan, for abandoning him, but how could he when he'd done the same? How could he when it had brought Evan to him?

He didn't like that Evan had gotten hurt, but he was glad that things had turned out the way they had.

“Did you find it? Yourself?”

Tommy nodded before he could even fully process the question, remembering the relief he’d felt the first time he’d said those words out loud – I’m gay – like a weight had been removed from his chest, remembering the years since, the life he lived now. He glanced at Evan, remembering the key in his pocket.

“I did.”

That's when he saw Sam returning to the table. His crisp, white shirt looked mostly dry now, though he'd lost the tie. He was smiling, pressing a kiss to the top of Abby's head when he passed her to sit back down. Abby smiled back at him and there were stars in her eyes.

Tommy knew that look. It was the same one he got when he looked at Evan.

Then, Abby turned her smile to him and Evan. “I'm glad to see you two are happy. You deserve it.”

“I think we all do.”

And they did. They all deserved to be happy.

Especially Evan.

It was that thought that Tommy held on to as they finished their drinks and decided against dessert.

“I already feel bad about crashing your date,” Abby joked.

Tommy waved her off, insisting it was fine, offering to cover the bill.

“I technically invited you, he said.”

And maybe it wasn't quite the romantic dinner he'd planned to have, but, as he and Evan left the restaurant hand in hand, he couldn't help but feel that lightness again, like a weight he hadn't even fully realised he'd been carrying had disappeared. It felt like closure.

Outside on the street, Tommy breathed.

“What's that smile for?” Evan asked slyly, stepping in front of him, both hands holding onto Tommy's.

Tommy shrugged, not bothering to school his expression. “You make me happy.”

There was a blush on Evan's cheeks, adorable and beautiful, just like everything else about him. He didn't look away, though, instead stepped even closer until their chests were pressed together.

“You make me happy too,” he whispered, and it sounded like something else, like something more.

“Evan -”

“I love you,” Evan said, quick but certain. “You make me happy too, and I love you.”

Tommy breathed, his heart swelling inside his chest, far too big for his body, and for a moment he felt like floating away, only Evan's hold on his hands keeping him grounded.

“The fancy dinner wasn't the only surprise I had planned for tonight,” he found himself saying, the words coming easy now. Reluctantly, he let go of one of Evan's hands and reached into his pocket, retrieving the key. “I also wanted to give you this.” He offered the key to Evan, taking in his disbelieving smile.

With a slight tremble in his fingers, Evan took the key. “Are – are you asking me to move in?”

“I'm asking you to be part of my life, in whatever way you want,” Tommy answered, “Because I love you, too.”

Evan's smile was blinding, and when he kissed him, it felt like the future.