Chapter Text
“Max is alive.” Buck’s voice was soft , like saying the words too loudly might shatter the fragile reality they had fought so hard to hold onto. His blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, unfocused.
Tommy stood at the edge of the bed, watching him. He felt the same—like if he let himself believe it too much, it would somehow slip away. But they’d done it - again . They’d brought Max home from the hospital, settled him in, and now, finally, they had space to breathe.
“Max is alive,” Tommy repeated, his voice warmer, surer. Crawling across the mattress toward Buck, he let a small, tired smile tug at his lips. He didn’t stop until he was hovering over Buck, his palms planted on either side of Buck’s bare shoulders.
The sight of him—shirtless, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm—grounded Tommy in a way nothing else had all day.
"You saved him" Tommy murmured against his neck, the 118 had arrived in time - thanks to Maddie and Axel.
Buck shook his head, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “ We saved him, I couldn't look after him without you.”
Tommy leaned down, close enough that their foreheads touched. “You’re always so goddamn selfless.”
“Comes with the territory,” Buck murmured, his voice lighter now, teasing but still raw around the edges. His hands found Tommy’s waist, fingers pressing into the warm skin where his T-shirt had ridden up. “What about you? I saw you, Tommy—you’re a force to be reckoned with.”
Tommy chuckled, low and soft, as he let himself relax into the touch. “Takes one to know one, babe.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, but not in a way that suffocated—it was the weight of everything unspoken. Gratitude. Fear. Love.
Tommy shifted, settling his body against Buck’s, his weight grounding both of them. He traced a light finger over the scar on Buck’s shoulder, a familiar gesture that made Buck shiver under his touch.
Buck said, his hands sliding up Tommy’s back, his touch firm, reassuring.
Tommy’s lips twitched into a small smile, but it didn’t last long. Instead, he dipped his head, brushing his lips against Buck’s—a soft, slow kiss that carried the weight of everything they couldn’t say.
Tommy's clothed body rubbed against Buck's bare skin, as Buck responded immediately, pulling Tommy closer, deepening the kiss as if the only way to feel truly alive was through the connection between them. His hands roamed, slipping under Tommy’s shirt to press against his bare skin.
Tommy let out a low hum of approval, sliding a leg between Buck’s, his movements deliberate but unhurried. They had time now. Time to let the tension melt away, to anchor themselves in each other.
Buck’s head fell back against the pillow as Tommy’s lips moved to his jaw, his neck, leaving a trail of kisses that were equal parts reverent and hungry. “God,” Buck murmured, his voice rough, “you’re relentless.”
Tommy grinned against Buck’s skin, his breath hot against his pulse. “You love it.”
Buck’s laughter rumbled low in his chest, his hands tangling in Tommy’s hair, pulling him back up to meet his lips again. This time, the kiss wasn’t soft—it was desperate, consuming, and utterly necessary, Tommy's jean's rubbing against Buck's straining erection.
Buck's hands roamed Tommy's back, mapping the curves of muscle and bone, pulling him even closer until there was no space left between them.
A low moan escaped Buck's throat as Tommy's mouth found his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before soothing it with his tongue. "Tommy," Buck pled, his voice a husky whisper, "you're going to make me crazy." He felt Buck's fingers tighten in his hair.
Tommy only chuckled, the vibrations making Buck's pulse race. He kissed a path down Buck's chest, pausing to swirl his tongue around a nipple before moving lower. Buck's hands fisted in the sheets, his hips bucking up involuntarily as Tommy's lips wrapped around his cock.
Buck's head thrashed on the pillow, his breath coming in harsh pants. "Fuck, Tommy," he gasped, "you're—"
Tommy caused Buck to loose the ability to form words as he took Buck deep, his hand working in time with his mouth to bring Buck closer and closer to the edge. Stroking Buck as his tongue tease Buck’s cock-head.
Buck's grip on the sheets tightened to the point of tearing as he teetered on the brink, his thighs clenching around Tommy's head. "Tommy, I—" he tried to warn, but it was too late.
With a hoarse cry, Buck came, his orgasm ripping through him with the force of a tsunami. Tommy swallowed every drop, his own arousal aching and throbbing against his jeans as he milked Buck dry.
As Buck's spasms subsided, Tommy slowly released him, licking his lips with a satisfied smile. He sat back on his heels, his chest heaving with exertion, and looked at Buck with eyes dark with desire.
"You okay, Evan?" he asked, his voice rough with need.
Buck's gaze was hazy, his expression dazed but content. "Mmm, more than okay," he murmured, reaching for Tommy with a trembling hand.
Tommy didn't hesitate, letting Buck pull him down into another searing kiss. This time, there was no holding back, no restraint. They kissed with a ferocity that bordered on desperation, their bodies grinding together, the thin fabric of Tommy's clothes against Buck's exposed skin.
With a heroic effort, Buck broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Remember those condoms in the nightstand?" he panted, his eyes blazing with want.
Max stared at his reflection in the mirror, fingers tracing the fain t, jagged scar that cut across his lower chest—a souvenir from nearly dying. Again .
He tilted his head, squinting at it like a new accessory. At least it looks cool, right? Tough. Rugged. The kind of thing people might notice and wonder about, though he wasn’t sure he wanted the questions.
Twisting slightly, Max struck a pose, eyeing his arms and imagining the future—older, twenty-five, mysterious. A tattoo sleeve winding down his arm, scars and stubble to match. He could see it: himself on a motorbike, leaning over the bar with a drink in hand, a pool cue slung casually over his shoulder. Moving from town to town, saving the day, getting the guy.
He paused, blinking at his reflection.
Okay, maybe I watch too much Reacher
Still, it would be nice to be the hero and not the damsel - to be like Buck and Tommy - tough, effortlessly cool and in control.
A sharp bang on the bathroom door shattered the moment.
“Max, let’s go! You’re gonna be late for school,” came the familiar voice, muffled but impatient.
Max dropped his hand, tugged his shirt down over the scar, and exhaled. First day back. No big deal.
Except
The doctor stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, delivering the blow with all the casual finality of someone who didn’t just ruin Max’s life.
“No basketball for the next six months.”
Six. Months.
Max blinked, the words landing like a punch to the chest—right where the metal pipe had already done its damage. From the corner of his eye, he could see Buck and Tommy hovering nearby, their expressions pinched with worry and guilt, like they were waiting for him to explode.
Six months. No court. No games. No shooting hoops in the driveway to clear his head.
“That’s—” Max started, but his voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look as devastated as he felt. Instead, he dropped his head back against the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Great. Guess I’ll just rot.
Lucy clapped her hands as the ping-pong ball landed cleanly in the last cup. “Another point for me!” she crowed, victorious, before turning her attention back to Tommy, seated across the lunchroom table at Harbor Station.
“What happened to sensible Tommy Kinard?” she teased, as Henderson took a shot and missed. “You know, by-the-book, rule-following Pilot Kinard?”
“Very funny, Donato,” Tommy replied dryly, though a corner of his mouth twitched.
“I’m serious!” Lucy grinned, leaning forward with mock incredulity. “One minute you’re all respectable, responsible and boooring, then you meet one dumbass called Buck , and the next you’re stealing helicopters, flying into hurricanes, and kidnapping a teenager off the street. A teenager, mind you, who's spent more time in the hospital than most of the 118—and that’s saying something.”
Tommy leaned back with a huff, folding his arms. “For the record, I flew the 118 into a rescue before I met Buck.”
Lucy’s smirk widened as she lined up her next shot. “Oh, so it’s the 118 crew that brings out the recklessness in you.” She flicked her wrist, and the ball sailed into another cup. “Boom! Take that, Henderson.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, unimpressed but unable to argue. Lucy, annoyingly, had a point.
“The 118 does seem to spend an abnormal amount of time in hospitals,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Right?” Lucy hummed in agreement, resting her chin in her hand. “And now look at you. You’ve got the whole collection: Danger Magnet…” She paused for effect, grinning. “And Mini Danger Magnet.”
Tommy shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “Remind me why I bother talking to you again?”
“Because you secretly love it,” Lucy shot back
Max shoved his belongings into his locker, sparing a glance across the hall at Axel, who had been ignoring him all day—pointedly. It was the kind of silent treatment you could feel in your bones.
The last time Max had seen Axel in person was when Axel was pushing his hoody against the hole in chest trying to stop the bleeding.
“Everything okay with Axel?”
Max flinched. Chris had somehow snuck up beside him, which, technically, shouldn’t be possible given the rhythmic thud of crutches on tile. But the noise of the hallway—and the noise in Max’s head—had drowned everything else out.
“Yeah, of course,” Max replied automatically, grabbing the books he thought he needed and slinging them under his arm.
Chris didn’t look convinced, but Max was already turning away, heading for class.
He dropped into his seat just as the bell rang, flipping the book open in front of him—only to freeze.
Wrong book.
Max stared at the page in horror, heart sinking as the teacher’s voice droned on at the front of the room. He risked a glance back toward the door, wondering if he could slip out unnoticed, but there was no chance now.
Perfect. As if today wasn’t already going great.
The 118 was used to weird calls — really weird calls—but this one definitely made the highlight reel.
“Uh… Cap?” Buck squinted upward, clearly trying to process what he was seeing. “Is that man…?”
“Yes, Buck,” Bobby replied with the patience of a saint. “That man is hanging off the side of a high-rise. Naked. The wife came home early, and apparently, the husband tried to hide his… boyfriend out the window.”
“Wow,” Buck said, blinking. “Just… wow.”
Beside him, Eddie gave a low whistle. “That’s a great idea.”
Buck turned to Eddie with a sly grin. “Hey, at least you didn’t end up on national news.”
Eddie shot him a sharp glare, jaw tightening. First of all, he was supposed to be the one making smartass comments like that. Second, the “Kim incident” was still a little too fresh. And third —
“Careful, Buck,” Eddie said smoothly. “I’m the one planning your stag do. Do you really want to end up tied to a power pole in nothing but your boxers?”
Buck’s grin faltered. “Tommy wouldn’t let you do that.”
Eddie smirked. “Tommy would laugh, take a photo, and leave you there.”
“Baby, please!” the husband begged, trailing after his furious wife as the 118 wheeled the boyfriend —shaken and bandaged—toward the ambulance. “I swear, just forgive me—”
“ Forgive you? ” the wife shot back, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “You want me to forgive your cheating ass ?”
“What about me, Duncan?” the boyfriend yelled from the stretcher, his voice cracking. “You almost got me killed! ”
Hen and Chimney exchanged a glance, both clearly trying not to get dragged into the mess unfolding in front of them.
“That’s your karma, ” the wife snapped, jabbing a finger at the boyfriend. “Serves you right for trying to take my man.”
The boyfriend sat up as much as the straps would allow, face flushing red. “Bitch, maybe if you put a little more effort into—”
“Hey, hey, hey! ” Bobby’s voice cut through the chaos, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Enough. All of you. Stop.”
For a moment, there was blessed silence.
Then Buck, apparently incapable of leaving well enough alone, cleared his throat and offered, “You know, uh… open relationships and throuples are a thing these days…”
Three sets of furious eyes turned on him in unison.
Buck immediately stepped back, hands raised in surrender. “Or not. Totally not, you know, therapy could...”
“Buck, stop talking” Hen suggested quietly in his ear.
Back at school, Max didn’t exactly corner Axel —it was more like he happened to follow him into the restroom and then casually leaned against the door. Totally normal. Totally not desperate.
Not stalkerish at all - despite what Chris said. What would Chris know anyway.
It was pure coincidence that they were in the same place at the same time. If Max also happened to want to talk to Axel, well, lucky him.
Someone tried the door handle, rattling it impatiently before giving up and stomping off to find another bathroom.
When Axel finally reappeared, his black permanent maker in one hand and a vape in the other, he stopped short, eyes narrowing into an immediate glare.
“You’re blocking the door.”
Max straightened up, scowling. “Really? That’s all you have to say to me?” He threw his hands up in frustration. “Axel—”
“What do you want, Max?” Axel’s voice was flat, but his eyes burned with something sharper.
Max faltered for a beat, but the words tumbled out anyway. “I don’t get it. Why are you ignoring me? What did I do?”
Axel’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, quietly, almost like it hurt to admit:
“You almost died. Right in front of me. My Twenty One Pilots hoodie is still soaked in your blood, Max. I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head hard, like he could erase the memory. “Just—forget it.”
Before Max could reply, Axel grabbed him by the arm, moved him out of the way like he weighed nothing, and stormed out the door.
Max stood frozen for a second, staring at the empty doorway.
Later, Sam slid onto the bench next to Max at lunch , dropping his tray with a clatter. “So you and Axel have broken up?”
Max froze mid-poke at his sandwich, huffing. “Why do you say that?”
Dean appeared on Max’s other side, nudging his shoulder with a smirk. “Maybe because Axel’s got his tongue down that jock’s throat.”
Max dropped his sandwich.
Fantastic.
That evening, Tommy stepped through the front door and sighed at the sight of a familiar scene —a mopey teenager sprawled dramatically across the couch, completely swaddled in the so-called couch blanket. The one that mysteriously kept migrating back to Tommy’s meticulously tidy living room.
“What’s wrong, buddy?”
Max heaved an exaggerated sigh, flopping onto his side like he’d lost the will to live. “Everything is fine. ”
Yeah. Sure. Tommy mentally filed that under ‘Lies Teenagers Tell.’ Someone definitely wasn’t getting an Oscar anytime soon.
Tommy had a boat load of paperwork to go over, numerous messages from Lucy to reply to and wanted an early night, plus Buck was on a twenty four shift.
“Okay,” Tommy said, settling onto the armrest and offering a truce. “How about I make some popcorn, and we watch a movie?”
Max didn’t budge for a moment, not even a blink. Then—shuffling. Blanket still wrapped tightly around him, Max peeked out with all the dramatic tension of a ghost in a haunted house.
“What kind of movie?”
Tommy paused, considering his options. He was a sucker for a good rom-com. Love, Actually was always solid, or maybe Twilight —nostalgic, cheesy, and just the right amount of ridiculous.
“I want to watch a horror movie,” Max announced suddenly, sitting up with a look of grim determination. “One where the popular kids die. One by one. In the most gruesome ways possible.”
Tommy blinked. That was… oddly specific.
“Right. Horror it is.” He stood, playing it cool, even as his brain quietly wondered what exactly he’d just signed up for. He was a grown man. A firefighter. He’d faced worse than fake blood and bad CGI.
Trying to keep his tough guy image in tact, Tommy tried to hide the wince as the popular jock just got his eyes gouged out in a way that made Tommy’s stomach lurch.
He tried—really tried—not to wince, but Max noticed. “Too much for you?”
“Nope,” Tommy lied, eyes on the screen. “Totally fine.”
“Good.”
The room settled into silence again, the flicker of the TV the only light. Then, so quietly Tommy almost didn’t catch it:
“Axel dumped me.”
Tommy’s head turned sharply, his heart sinking. “I’m sorry Maxwell…”
“It’s fine, I don’t even care.” Max replied curtly
Buck got home just after breakfast, the scent of coffee still lingering in the air. He barely had time for a quick kiss before Tommy grabbed his keys and headed for the door.
“Are you okay?” Buck asked, frowning as he took in Tommy’s face. “You look like you didn’t sleep at all last night.”
“Ah, yeah.” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Buck’s sharp gaze. “Late night. Maxwell had his second heartbreak yesterday.”
“Axel?”
“Gone. Like the wind.”
Buck tilted his head, watching Tommy carefully. “And that kept you up?”
Tommy hesitated a beat too long, his cheeks turning a telltale shade of pink. “Mostly…”
Buck raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “Mostly?”
Tommy cleared his throat, reaching for the doorknob as though escaping would save him. “Okay, maybe I was up because of some… intense horror movie moments. Maybe. ”
Buck grinned, full of amusement. “ You got scared?”
“I did not get scared,” Tommy shot back defensively, already halfway out the door. “I just prefer movies with happy endings.”
“Happy endings are my favourite too.” Buck said with a wink as the door closed.
Later that night, Buck adjusted the last few details of his outfit, giving himself a once-over in the mirror before throwing a glance Tommy’s way. “You know, I could stay. Help play babysitter for Mister Doom-and-Gloom out there.”
Tommy didn’t bother looking up from his phone, his reply dry. “Don’t worry, Evan. I’ll feed it ice cream, make sure it does its homework, and tuck it in.”
Buck’s grin widened as he strolled over, dropping a soft kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “You’re such a good daddy…”
Tommy’s eyebrow lifted, his tone a warning shot. “Careful. You still planning to sit on those wooden bar stools tonight, or are you aiming to lose the privilege?”
Buck’s smirk deepened, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Oh, I’m just seeing how close to the edge I can dance…”
Buck stepped into the bar and immediately spotted them —Eddie, Hen, Chim, and Ravi clustered around a high table near the back. It wasn’t hard to find them; Hen’s loud laugh carried across the room, and Chim was waving a neon-pink lei in the air like a beacon.
“Look who finally made it!” Chim called out as Buck approached, grinning from ear to ear. “The man of the hour!”
“Come take a seat.” Eddie encouraged, as Buck shook his head, the last thing he wanted to do right now was sit.
Maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so mouthy.
The first round of drinks arrived, then the second round, third round and fourth etc.
“GUYS, DO YOU WANT TO SHARE AN UBER WITH ME AND KAREN?” Hen hollered over the blaring music, glitter clinging to her hair and a drink in each hand.
Buck locked eyes with her, every ounce of his remaining brainpower focused on delivering the line with complete gravitas: “The party doesn’t stop, Heeeeennrietta.”
The next morning hit like a freight train.
Buck groaned as he sat up, his skull pounding like someone had rented it out for a drumline practice. His shirt was torn, one sleeve barely hanging on, and a pair of oversized novelty sunglasses sat crooked on his face.
“Eddie?” he croaked, his voice scratchy as sandpaper.
“Don’t,” Eddie groaned from somewhere on the floor, an arm draped dramatically over his eyes. He was shirtless, still wearing the neon-pink lei from the night before, and half-pinned under a toppled chair.
Blinking blearily, Buck surveyed the room. It looked like a tornado had thrown a frat party. A single shoe spun lazily in the ceiling fan above them, while the bathroom mirror bore the artistic addition of a questionable mustache drawn in smudged lipstick.
Buck staggered toward the window, swiping at the grimy glass to clear his view. What he saw made him freeze. He blinked once. Then again. And then a third time, just to be sure.
“Uh, Eddie…” he started cautiously, his voice trailing off.
“Ugh,” Eddie replied eloquently, rolling onto his side and clamping a hand over his mouth, either to stop himself from throwing up or to muffle whatever snark was brewing.
“Eddie,” Buck repeated, turning around with a face full of confusion and mild panic. “Why can I see a cable car outside?”
Eddie groaned louder
“Tommy’s going to kill me.”
Good morning San Francisco
Eddie stumbled up next to Buck staring at the window, "Get in line, I have a feeling Tommy's going to kill both of us."