Archive of Our Own

*

The cleaning supplies slid toward the edge of the shelf, jolting rhythmically as the freestanding cabinet bounced against the wall. 

A spray bottle of 409 reached the lip, bounced, bounced again, seemed like it might stay caught there, until suddenly it tipped and went sailing end over end toward the floor.

“Fuck,” Buck bit out, automatically reaching to try and catch it, but since he was bent so far forward, it threw off his balance.

He stumbled, almost going head first right after the 409 before Tommy yanked him back.

His nails dug into Buck’s waist, the momentum of yanking Buck back driving his cock deeper up into him. A strangled sound burst out of Buck’s throat. He grabbed the side of the cabinet, mouth falling open.

“Quiet,” Tommy gritted into his ear.

Nodding, Buck bit his lip, not quite able to swallow back another groan but catching most of it in his throat. You could barely hear it over the slap of Tommy’s hips against his bare ass, but apparently it wasn’t enough. 

“I said quiet,” Tommy said again, more exasperated this time.  

“Uh-huh,” Buck breathed, largely unable to focus on anything but Tommy’s cock spearing him open, “uh-huh, yeah.” He shoved back against it, trying to move so it would nail him right where he wanted, without having to tell Tommy and be annoying about it and risk Tommy not wanting to do this anymore.  

Tommy slapped a hand on his hip, making a cracking sound against his skin. Buck gasped, his whole body shuddering.

“Fucking shut up, Buckley, I’m serious.”

He slid his hand up Buck’s back, gripping the back of his neck tight and bending him further forward, and that angle was perfect, it was so good.

“Yeah, please,” he whispered, not able to not say it, but trying not to pant so loudly as a compromise.

Tommy bent forward, blanketing Buck’s body with his. The heat of him was almost overwhelming, making goosebumps rise under the sweat on Buck’s shoulders and back. 

“Tommy,” he whispered, or tried to, but Tommy put a rough hand over his mouth. He made a surprised sound, but it didn’t go past the warm, rough surface of Tommy’s palm.

“Okay,” Tommy muttered, smug, a little mean, but in a hot way, “so that’s what it takes.”

He started fucking Buck faster, hips pistoning with slightly less rhythm than a minute ago, in a way Buck could tell meant he was close. Tommy crowded Buck against the cabinet, hand still over his mouth, dug his teeth, not gently, into the back of Buck’s neck, and fucked him harder, getting faster, less demanding about Buck keeping quiet when he was this close.

He hissed when he finished, hips bucking hard, humid breath against Buck’s skin, fingernails digging deep into the skin at Buck’s waist. 

Buck closed his eyes against his ringing ears and concentrated on Tommy’s breath against his temple, inhaling through his nose so he could draw his smell into his lungs. 

After a moment, Tommy straightened up and took his hand from Buck’s mouth. He pulled out, making Buck suck in a breath, and kept his other hand at his side just long enough for Buck to get a better grip on the cabinet, hold himself steady. As soon as Tommy was sure he could lean there on his own, he stepped away. 

The air around Buck’s bare back and arms felt suddenly freezing.

“You can get yourself off,” Tommy said at his back, from the sound of it focused on taking the condom off, getting his pants back up, already slightly distracted.

Buck got his hand around himself in a hurry, stroking fast and without finesse so he could come with the thought of Tommy’s eyes still on him, even though he knew Tommy probably wasn’t looking at him anymore. He closed his eyes and pretended anyway, until his balls drew up and Buck gritted his teeth and came, dangling from his one-handed grip on the cabinet, hips humping forward into his own hand, catching most of his come in his palm. Whatever got on the carpet he would have to clean up himself anyway.

When he opened his eyes, to his surprise, Tommy was actually watching him finish. Usually he’d be checking his phone by now, but instead he was studying Buck, eyes unreadable. Buck could never get a read on him. So at least that was the same. 

He stayed there crouched almost in half like a gremlin, one hand braced on his knee, palmful of come in the other, mouth open as he caught his breath and stared back up at Tommy. His brain was wiped clean, empty of any thoughts. 

After a moment Tommy blinked and seemed to come back to himself. His uniform was buttoned back up, hair not even tousled. The only way you’d be able to tell he’d been up to anything at all was the rosiness high on his cheeks. 

He waited, vaguely magnanimous, as Buck finally straightened, hauling his clothes back up and on, buttoning and zipping with shaking fingers. It always took him longer to get put together again, since Tommy liked him mostly naked. By contrast, Tommy usually only pulled his pants and underwear down.

Once Buck was somewhat decent, or at least his bare ass was covered, he straightened all the way up and waited for Tommy to get done checking his phone. This part always felt awkward as hell, at least to Buck; Tommy barely seemed to notice.

He finished tapping out a text and slipped his phone in his pocket and stepped forward. 

Buck went still, not sure what he was expecting or waiting for. 

Tommy gave him a brisk clap on his side, right over his ribs, the kind of casual whomp-whomp you’d give a buddy after working out or finishing up a run. Bros.

“Not too shabby, Buckley.” A corner of his Tommy’s mouth was up, his usual sardonic expression.  He put a hand on the knob of the store room closet door. “Wait at least five minutes,” he said over his shoulder, and then let himself out.

Buck stayed behind for eight minutes, until he wasn’t shaking anymore and the lightheadedness from coming so hard had largely gone away. 

*

Buck had noticed Tommy right away, as soon as he’d joined the 118.

It wasn’t so unusual to notice a beautiful face. Buck loved beautiful faces, and he loved sex with beautiful people with beautiful faces, so moving to LA was a dream. There were hot girls everywhere you looked, and pretty much all of them seemed open to fucking around, if you were friendly and smiled a lot and mentioned you were about to become a firefighter. 

The downside of firefighter training was largely scheduling. He wasn’t able to meet up with the couple of girls whose numbers he’d saved for casual hookups very often, until they stopped answering when he texted. 

By the time he was assigned to a firehouse, he’d gone almost two weeks without picking up. 

Sure, he jerked off plenty, but it wasn’t the same as getting off with someone else.

As he walked in the firehouse, up the stairs to meet the firefighters of the 118, he was already thinking about what bar he was going to head to after his shift. He was definitely going to keep the uniform on. No question it would help his chances of getting laid quick and easy.

His new captain, Captain Gerrard, was kind of a prick. He had a whole speech about how seriously they took their jobs at the 118, how they didn’t put up with any PC soft shit, whatever that meant. Buck was only half-listening, giving thoughtful nods as he followed him up to the kitchen where most of the guys were hanging around, people heating up food in the microwave, someone making something on the cooktop. 

They turned as Buck got to the top of the stairs and he waved a hand, a little awkward. He waited for Gerrard to introduce him, and when he didn’t seem about to, Buck guessed it was up to him. “I’m the new recruit. Evan Buckley.”

“Ooh, pretty boy,” one of the guys hooted, eliciting a few cackles.

So that’s how it was going to be. The smile he’d been wearing began to dim.

“Enough,” Gerrard barked, silencing the room. 

Buck did not smirk, but he felt his shoulders begin to settle. One of the upsides of an old school guy maybe, he wouldn’t put up with this bullshit.

“It’s not his fault he’s got those eyes,” Gerrard drawled. Out of the corner of his eye, Buck could see a small smirk curving Gerrard’s mouth. “Remember, this is a safe space.”

That brought the house down. With the laughter of the others ringing in his ears, Buck looked away, and locked eyes with the guy sitting at the end of the table, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. 

The noise seemed to fade away.

He was the most gorgeous person Buck had ever seen in his entire life. 

He lost track of what the others were laughing about. Something about his eyelashes now? He honestly had no idea. 

The guy raised one eyebrow, unimpressed, at Buck or the guys being dipshits, Buck couldn’t tell. Either way, the guy held Buck’s eye for one long second, then very deliberately turned and started talking to the firefighter on his other side. 

Sure, Buck had noticed guys before. Who hadn’t? It was impossible not to, a guy had a tight ass, walking right by you, were you not supposed to take a look? Forget about it. It was about respect, really. It was almost an insult not to recognize when a guy had obviously been putting in work at the gym.

But there were always girls, and as a firefighter, he was pretty confident there’d be more girls than ever. The uniform seemed like a sure thing.

Except now here was the hottest guy he’d ever seen, and he was going to have to work with him, somehow. 

Buck couldn’t quite tell how old he was. Anyone over twenty-eight seemed impossibly mature to him, and the aloof way this guy held himself suggested somewhere in his thirties. Damn. He probably still had a landline. 

“Buckley.” Gerrard’s sharp voice yanked Buck back to attention. He had the feeling it wasn’t the first time Gerrard had said his name. 

“Sorry sir.” 

“Lewis was going to give you a tour. If you can spare the time.” 

“Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Across the table, one of the guys did a little robotic movement and mouthed, “Sir, yes, sir,” and made the dude next to him laugh.

The hot guy at the end of the table hadn’t looked back at Buck once.

Buck knew himself well enough to know he was reacting to that as a challenge.

Throughout his first shift, throughout Lewis’s lackluster tour and rolling up hoses and other busywork while the main crew went out on calls, Buck reoriented his view of the world.

Okay, maybe he was into guys. Like, into guys. He played back the way the gorgeous guy had eyed him, and felt cautiously optimistic that maybe, this guy was into guys too. It was a numbers game, surely, but it was possible. They were right near West Hollywood, after all.

And maybe, if the numbers worked out, this guy would let Buck take him out. His first thought was how much he wanted to see this guy naked, but there was something about his long, proud nose, the haughty way he’d looked at Buck and then away, his trim waist — he seemed like the kind of guy who would want to be pursued. Wined and dined, maybe. He could always tell when girls were like that, so he hoped it mapped over onto guys pretty evenly. 

Over the next few days, and eventually the first few weeks on the 118, he spent his free time ruminating. 

How did you date guys? When he had a spare minute, in between mopping the floor and reorganizing uniforms (he wasn’t allowed on any calls yet, according to Captain Gerrard, without any indication of when that would change), he pulled out his phone and began making a list about what he needed to look up. 

He kept trying to find a way to start a conversation with the guy, Kinard. Tommy Kinard. But whenever Buck sidled up to say hey, how’s it going, Tommy gave him nothing. If he was lucky, he’d get a single raised eyebrow in response, occasionally a “fine,” most of the time he wandered away before Buck could even get to him.

That just made Buck want to try harder. Plus, it was a good distraction.

His first month as a probie was brutally boring, and kind of lonely, so it was nice to have a little project.

If he got a little carried away with the daydreaming, nobody else had to know.

Tommy didn’t talk much, especially when Gerrard was around, and in general seemed to keep to himself. When he did talk though, he had an incredibly dry sense of humor. A few times Buck had caught himself smirking when Tommy had made fun of one of the other guys and it flew right over their head.

He didn’t make fun of Buck, because he never talked to Buck.

Then again, none of the other guys did either, unless they were bossing him around or making fun of his eyelashes, or his eyes, or his mouth. It was a very weird vibe, but Buck figured he just had to tough it out, and soon enough the rest of the guys would start treating him normally. Probably. Eventually. 

*

The first time they fucked, Buck had honest to God not seen it coming.

He had been putting the mop bucket away, his back turned to the door of the closet as he checked to make sure all the supplies were organized on the shelf. Since it was only him coming in here most days, he might as well make sure he had things how he wanted them.

The sound of the door shutting behind him made him jump. He wheeled around, and there was Tommy, leaning back against the closed door with his arms crossed.

“I’ve seen you staring at me,” Tommy said dryly.

Buck’s entire body clenched. “Uh. I mean.” He thought about denying it, but then he would be calling Tommy a liar, and the last thing he needed was someone to go to Gerrard saying he’d started some shit with one of the longer-serving guys. Buck was starting to have his doubts he would make it out of his probationary period as it was. Gerrard was already riding him hard for every stupid mistake. 

So he stood there, frozen, as Tommy sauntered closer, almost predatory. 

In his ruminating on the possibility of Tommy, he’d thought about numbers, probability, but faced with the actual reality of Tommy in front of him, indicating that maybe he actually… ? Buck had no idea what to do.

Tommy stopped a half foot away, dragging his eyes from Buck’s feet all the up to his face.

Buck was sweating.

“So are you going to do anything about it?” Tommy asked, taking another step, and now they were so close he could feel every time Tommy exhaled, air puffing against his mouth.

His eyes locked on Tommy’s mouth, but Tommy didn’t move to kiss him. Instead, when Buck leaned in, Tommy honest-to-God swerved him, which hadn’t happened to Buck since he was in high school. Or at least, he thought Tommy had, but then he noticed Tommy wasn’t even looking at his face. 

He spun Buck around to face the cabinet. 

Buck had to throw a hand up to grab a shelf to keep from falling into the cleaning supplies. He began undoing Buck’s pants, his underwear, tugging them down with a businesslike efficiency. He spat into his palm and reached around to take Buck’s dick in his hand, already hard, and began stroking him briskly. 

“Oh.” 

The word slipped out of Buck’s mouth, and at his back, Tommy stilled. He leaned away, the heat of his body lifting off of Buck’s back, and  Buck looked over his shoulder. Tommy’s eyebrows had gone up, questioning.

“Uh, no. It’s fine. Yeah, it’s fine.” Buck swallowed, quickly reorienting what was happening. 

Okay. A hook up. That was fine, Buck loved hooking up. They could talk after. If that was what Tommy wanted.

Buck’s thoughts were yanked abruptly to the present as Tommy spread Buck’s ass and rubbed at his hole with a dry fingertip. 

Buck went still, the pieces fully coming together. 

He thought maybe they’d jerk each other off, but Tommy was blowing right past that expectation. 

Buck had done anal with girls, but had never received more than a few fingers up the ass during a few really good blowjobs. It had been nice, but he’d never fully considered the reality of getting fucked up the ass until right now, in this exact moment. 

He decided that if Tommy asked, he’d tell him he hadn’t really done it before. 

Something slippery pressed against his hole, Tommy’s thumb it felt like, slick with something, Buck was too dazed to ask what. 

Tommy paused. “You good?”

Without really knowing if he was or not, Buck nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sure, yeah.”

After another long pause, Tommy pressed his thumb in. Buck arched his back instinctively, making room, and gasped when Tommy tugged on the rim.

Buck kicked a leg back, hearing Tommy laugh. “Easy.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh.”

He fingered him for a while, and Buck was surprised how good it felt. He really liked this. Holy shit, he really liked this. He was squirming back against Tommy, until he had to put his hand on his back, holding him still.

He heard a crinkle, the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper. 

This was happening, Buck thought wildly. He was terrified, and exhilarated, like the first time he went cliff jumping in Guatemala. Something huge and dangerous if you did it wrong, but incredible if you threw yourself into it, embraced it and tumbled through to the other side.

“You ready?” Tommy asked, and when Buck nodded, he began sliding his cock in. 

Afterward, Buck would remember the stretch, the initial burning, the shift inside him as he tilted his hips back, and his body seemed to open up, tight around Tommy’s cock, but not like an intrusion. Like a meeting of something.

He’d remember Tommy starting slow, and Buck being out of breath like he’d run a marathon almost right away, even though he was mostly just lying there.

Tommy really knew what he was doing. 

He moved Buck around like his body was an extension of Tommy’s, adjusting the angle until Buck was sucking in deep, endless breaths, pounding at something in Buck that made him jerk like he’d been electrocuted on every third or fourth thrust. 

“Get yourself off if you want,” Tommy whispered into his ear, the breath on Buck’s skin making him shiver. 

Buck did not need to be told twice.

He made a high-pitched nose as he jerked his cock, trying to match the steady, pounding tempo of Tommy fucking into him, but he got too impatient. He pumped his fist fast, chasing the feeling he could sense just at the end. If he came with Tommy’s cock inside him, he’d be able to squeeze down, clench, he’d feel so full — 

“Oh,” he blurted out, surprised as he came like he was sliding down a hill, picking up speed and then becoming suddenly airborne.

Behind him, Tommy hissed in a breath as Buck rocked back again and again, shoving so Tommy could be as deep as possible as Buck came down. Holy shit.

He went mostly limp as Tommy finished, getting rougher as he got closer before groaning very, very quietly in Buck’s ear. 

Buck’s ass was already a little sore as Tommy pulled out, but his head was racing, exhilarated. Shit, he’d fucked a guy. He’d been fucked by a guy. 

He wanted to take Tommy out and ask him if he’d do it again as soon as possible, maybe a bunch of times. Lock him down in the future. 

As they got dressed, Buck tried to get his head together. He could get all swoony later. For now, he practiced in his head the chillest way to say hey, want to get a beer after our shift? No, drinks, that sounded better, and he didn’t want to offend Tommy like he was just asking out a buddy, not after the sex they’d just had. 

Can I buy you a drink? That was probably good. Smooth, sincere, but not too needy. Way to thread that needle, Buck, he told himself smugly.

As Buck opened his mouth, Tommy clapped him on the back, surprising him so he clamped his mouth shut and choked a little on his own spit.

“See you later, Buckley.”

He went to the door, throwing over his shoulder, “Wait five minutes,” and then he was gone.

*

When Tommy didn’t say a word to him for the rest of their shift, Buck gave himself five minutes to feel disappointed, then purposefully moved on.

He’d been dumb to get his hopes up about it.

He’d had all kinds of one-and-done things with girls before, this was the same. 

It was not a one-and-done thing.

Tommy fucked him again during their next shift together, and the one after that. They went a few shifts after that where there were so many calls they literally didn’t have the time, but eventually they fell into a rhythm. 

Tommy had a sixth sense for finding spare moments to fuck in the firehouse. He was also extremely paranoid about getting caught, and if Buck did anything that veered toward too familiar when they were around the guys, or looked at Tommy too much, or, Buck wasn’t really sure, breathed wrong, Tommy withdrew and wouldn’t give Buck the nod to follow him into a closet or a hallway or out back for at least a week. Then, once he felt Buck had sufficiently learned his lesson, he’d make eye contact and saunter off to the supply closet again on their next shift.

They had a few solid go-to locations by Buck’s fifth week, but the cleaning supply closet was the most frequent option. Barely anyone went in there, except for Buck, since it was his responsibility to do most of the cleaning anyway as the probie. 

Buck had started to get really familiar with the pattern of the flaking paint on the wall where one of the sturdier cabinets stood. It made a little shape, like a star. He usually found himself staring at it as Tommy pounded him from behind. 

Hooking up with Tommy became something for Buck to look forward to, when he was not exactly looking forward to another long shift with Gerrard and the rest of the motley crew at the 118 otherwise.

Still, it wasn’t like Tommy started talking to him around the other guys, or they hung out outside of work, definitely not that.

Buck had tried, once.

He was pulling up his pants after the third or fourth time, doing his zipper and keeping his eyes down, super casual. “Did you want to grab a drink sometime?” 

Tommy looked up from his phone. “What?”

“A drink. Could I, uh. Buy you one?” He winced. Not his smoothest. 

Tommy cocked his head, eyes narrowed slightly, looking at Buck like he’d asked him to cosign a car loan. Like he was trying to untangle why in the world he’d be asking. 

The station alarm started ringing. With one last weird look Buck’s way, Tommy left to go get ready and Buck stayed in the supply closet for the required five minutes, trying and failing not to feel embarrassed. 

*

After six weeks, Gerrard begrudgingly agreed that Buck could start going out on calls. It wasn’t even his idea, but Gonzalez had gotten injured and they were down a man, and Buck was his last resort.

Whatever. Buck was thrilled to get out of the station.

He’d thought going out on calls would help him ease more into this job, and in a way it did. Total adrenaline, from the moment he got in the truck until they pulled back in after the calls were done. Some were stupid, most were at least fast-paced, and on few he genuinely felt like he was helping people. Like he’d found his calling.

But going out on calls also meant spending more time with the crew, and more time gave all the guys plenty more opportunity to get on his ass about every little thing, how he hopped out of the truck, how he wore his helmet, the way he talked to victims at the scene. He liked the actual work, and he wanted to like the guys; when they weren’t ragging on him, they seemed like a tight knit crew. He’d been in LA a while but he still didn’t feel like he knew many people well, and he’d been hoping the FD would be a good way to make friends. 

Well. So much for that. 

Tommy didn’t join in on the hazing at least. Buck liked to think it was because he knew the other guys were being assholes, but usually Tommy didn’t even seem to notice. On most rides he sat up front near the engineer, or if he was in the back he’d usually stare ahead, face blank, thinking unknowable thoughts, or sometimes listening if the guy sitting next to him was in a talkative mood.

Maybe if Tommy didn’t seem to hear it, the razzing from the guys wasn’t that big of a deal and Buck needed to ignore it too. Hazing was just part of being a probie. 

The one time he’d very obliquely mentioned that maybe it might possibly on the outside potentially be impacting his job satisfaction, Gerrard had interrupted and told him to toughen up. And he might be right. 

So Buck put his head down, and focused on becoming a better firefighter.

That, and hooking up with Tommy whenever he gave Buck that look.

He was improving at both.

*

Tommy liked to fuck him with Buck bent over, clutching the supply cabinet or the wall in the back hallway or whatever stable surface was nearby. He liked to grab Buck by the hair sometimes, and he liked when Buck clenched down around him, or arched his back and pushed back when Tommy thrust forward, so he really got Buck deep and he had to fight not to moan.

He liked when Buck got on his knees, he liked tucking Buck tight up between his legs and clutching one hand in his hair, the other around Buck’s jaw so he could feel when he swallowed around Tommy’s cock. He liked when Buck swallowed his come and some of it dripped out of the corner of his mouth and Buck had to wipe it off with the back of his hand. 

He hoarded these details about Tommy away, collecting every little scrap he could find on his own because he wasn’t getting anything from Tommy. It came down to what Buck could discover on his own. 

Buck liked when Tommy told him to get himself off, and he especially liked the times he caught Tommy watching him; it made him get off twice as hard. He liked how Tommy was stronger than him, and a little taller. He was rangier, not too much broader, but it was just enough that when he wrapped an arm around Buck’s waist, pulled him closer when they were fucking, it made Buck feel small. He liked Tommy’s voice, how deep it was, how it made Buck shiver when he would bite out, “Fuck,” low and rough, against the nape of Buck’s neck before he came. 

He had not idea if Tommy was making his own catalog on his end of the things Buck liked. 

If he was, he was keeping it to himself. 

*

Tommy took point on making sure they didn’t get caught with passionate attention. He was like a working dog, always scenting the air, listening for threats, poised and ready to react at the first sign of intruders. 

Buck lacked the ability to maintain hypervigilance, especially when he was about to get laid, so he did his best to follow Tommy’s lead. It wasn’t like he wanted the guys of the 118 to know, if nothing else because it was just more ammo for their mockery, but it didn’t fill him with the same kind of ancient, elemental anxiety it seemed to do in Tommy. 

Gradually, though, possibly because they hadn’t yet gotten walked in on, Tommy grew somewhat more relaxed.

It was past midnight, they’d gotten back from two calls and Buck had taken a quick shower to wash the smell of structure fire off him, ignoring the heckling from the guys. Why would you sit around smelling like ass if you didn’t have to? 

He went up to get a snack, but the kitchen wasn’t empty like he’d been expecting.

Tommy was at the table, reading a book, a plate with toast in front of him.

Buck paused, one foot on the landing, one still back on the stairs. They usually were never one on one like this, unless he was following Tommy to a closet or a dark corner.

“Uh,” he said as Tommy looked up. “How’s, uh. How’s it going? Is that a book?”

Tommy looked at the book, then up at Buck. “Sure is.”

Buck blushed, laughing at himself. “Duh. I meant, I didn’t know you read.”

Tommy’s eyebrows went higher. Buck rubbed at his face. “Sorry. A little out of it. Of course you can read.” He chuckled again, too dazed to be that embarrassed at himself. 

Tommy was regarding him, face even. “Why don’t you come over here and rest, then?”

“What?” 

Tommy pushed back from the table, widening his knees so he was spread wide on the seat. He glanced down at the space between where he was sitting and the table, and put a hand slowly, deliberately over his crotch. “Come here.” 

All the blood left Buck’s body and drained down to his cock, the sudden rush making him lightheaded. He licked his lips, mouth gone dry. “What?”

Tommy didn’t reply, just looked at him, kneading at his dick through the fabric of his uniform pants. Buck could see him getting hard, the bulge growing. If he walked right over and got to his knees, right then, he could get Tommy’s pants unzipped and his cock in Buck’s mouth in under five seconds, he was sure of it. He swallowed again, his once-dry mouth now filling with spit.

When he looked up at Tommy’s face, he was smirking at him. 

It was fucking hot. Still, this wasn’t the storage closet, far from it. “Are you sure?” he found himself asking. 

Tommy’s eyes darted around the empty kitchen, then over the railing down toward the TV and the main couches. They could both hear the low sounds of the guys’ voices, some action movie on the TV. Farther away, Buck could hear pool balls clicking together. Tommy swallowed, apparently deciding.

He spread his knees a little wider, unbuckling his belt, slow and showy. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m sure. Get over here.”

Fuck. Buck barely remembered how he got there; he might have levitated. All he knew was he blinked and he was on his knees, crowded between the table and Tommy’s lap, almost clumsy in his hurry to get that big cock out and his mouth wrapped around it.

He moaned slightly when he sucked at the head, not meaning to, but loving the heaviness on his tongue.

“Shhh,” Tommy hushed, but when Buck glanced quickly upward, he didn’t look annoyed. His eyes were dilated as he hunched over Buck’s head, and when he didn’t add anything else, Buck figured he was in the clear.

So he went back to blowing him, a skill Buck had been pleased to discover he was a natural at. Something about it, the repetitive motion, the challenge of pushing through the strain, was satisfying. Plus, Tommy’s cock was perfect, thick, long but not so much that Buck couldn’t get most of it in. He felt possessive of it, the better he got to know it. Like it was his dick almost as much as Tommy’s. He felt he knew it pretty well at this point. 

For all Tommy was playing at being all relaxed, Buck could feel how tense his thighs were where he’d splayed his hands. He could feel his dick pulse in his mouth when Buck swallowed, and moved closer on his knees, and cupped Tommy’s balls in one hand.

It made him feel powerful for once, being able to get Tommy to shift in his seat, inhale, jerk his hips, like he couldn’t control himself. Like Buck was making him lose some of that self-discipline he valued so much. 

He shot off quickly, maybe six minutes of Buck sucking him down, Tommy’s hands in his hair holding him and fucking up into his mouth. Buck was getting lost in the easy mechanics of bobbing and sucking, when all at once Tommy was shuddering, bending over Buck and holding him there as he emptied down his throat. 

Buck pulled back to cough, covering his mouth so it wouldn’t be too loud. “Sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, “sorry.” He coughed a few more times, working up a racket. 

Tommy’s hand had slid down from his hair to rest on the nape of his neck. It was a hot, heavy weight there, and Buck waited for him to take it away.

When he didn’t, Buck straightened up on his knees, bracing against Tommy’s thighs, who didn’t move them away. 

Tommy’s color was high, his forehead shiny with sweat, breathing heavy. 

Buck licked his lips and Tommy’s eyes darted to follow the movement.

The moment stretched, elongated, until Buck knew it would snap any second, and Tommy would tell him to get up and go back downstairs.

His dick was throbbing in his pants. He pressed his heel against it, needing the pressure, and saw Tommy’s eyes shoot to catch that movement too.

“Can I?” Buck’s voice was hushed.

He watched Tommy’s eyelashes flutter, like he needed to shake himself.

Buck moved his hand, poised at his belt buckle, waiting. 

That seemed to snap Tommy back into action. 

He glanced quickly at the stairs, lifting off his chair a bit to peek over the railing. Distantly, there was the sound of cheering in the entertainment room, on-screen announcers yelling something out.

He looked back down at Buck, nodding. “Yeah. Do it.”

Buck got his dick out, wrapping his hand around it. Stared at Tommy, right in the face, as he got himself off, mouth open, not wanting to blink and miss a second of Tommy’s focus.

When Tommy got up and left a few minutes after Buck was finished, boots clicking on tile as he walked quickly down the stairs and to the entertainment room to join the guys, Buck thought about how Tommy had looked. How his forehead had furrowed when Buck came, watching Buck’s back arching, staring at Buck’s mouth fling open in a silent moan. 

How Tommy hadn’t looked away. Not until the last drop had dribbled out of the tip of Buck’s cock. 

*

Buck was straddling Tommy’s lap in the uniform closet, riding his cock with his head thrown back, panting up at the ceiling.

It had been a relatively quiet shift, two false alarms, three car accidents, and then two long hours of blissful nothingness, no calls coming in. 

Buck had thought he’d been pretty good about rationing glances thrown Tommy’s way too much, until one time he looked at him out of the corner of his eyes and Tommy was watching him right back, eyebrows raised. He gave a subtle eye roll, stood, and walked off, heading in the direction of the utility closets. A few minutes later Buck followed, making a point not to walk too fast, not to be in a hurry. Not that any of the other guys noticed or cared what he did, but he didn’t want Tommy to get pissed at him for being too obvious. 

Tommy was sprawled in a folding chair in the back of the uniform closet, Buck didn’t know if he’d brought it himself or it was already there, but he liked to think Tommy had thought ahead. Had wanted to make it easier for them to do it like this.

Buck had built up a bouncing rhythm, his thighs screaming, sweat sliding down his neck and back, a total mess. He paused the hand he had on his own dick, where he’d been jerking at frantic speed, because he felt the heat building too fast. He rubbed the heel of his palm at the tip of his dick to cool down, mouth falling open in an “O.” He didn’t want to come yet. He just wanted a little more time.

Beneath him, Tommy let out little grunts every time he hitched his hips up, his big cock tugging against Buck’s rim as he slid out, a slight burn as he pushed back in. He was holding Buck up around his chest, helping him lift and fall back down, occasionally rubbing up and down Buck’s thighs, digging in his nails.

Jackets on hangers brushed over their heads and shoulders, creating a little shadowed world with just them. 

Buck was getting tired and had to stop moving for a second, catching his breath. 

He let his head roll back down, blinking at Tommy, whose eyes were half-closed. Buck could see his pulse beating quickly in his neck.

Clocking how Buck had slowed down, Tommy squeezed his side. “You good?”

Buck nodded, throat too dry to speak. 

Tommy leaned forward and sucked his nipple, turning it into a sharp bite at the end. 

Buck scrabbled his free hand in Tommy’s hair, second wind coming in with vengeance and began to fuck himself on Tommy’s cock again, small movements, still tired but his nipples were way too sensitive to sit still while Tommy was sucking on them. 

Usually Tommy was militant about his hair and not messing it up too much when they hooked up, but he seemed too distracted. He didn’t tell Buck to stop, at least.

Instead, he reached around and rubbed at Buck’s rim where his cock was still stuffing him full. It was a rough caress, making Buck jerk and hiss, arching his back to press into it. 

He wondered, wildly, if Tommy would try to stick a finger in there, along with his cock, stretch Buck out even more until he couldn’t take it. 

Buck’s hand was flying on his cock, suddenly needing to come. He let out a guttural sound, echoing in the tiny uniform room.

“Buck,” Tommy whispered, warning.

“Sorry,” Buck muttered back, mindless, so close, he just needed a little more.

“It’s okay,” Tommy told him, surprising Buck, and then pressing his face to Buck’s neck and fucking up into him with seven or eight brutal strokes, rattling Buck’s teeth in his head.

He let out a long sigh as Buck clenched down on him and came in Buck’s ass.

Buck’s core went tight, a hot wave coming up from his toes through his pelvis. He tugged Tommy’s hair and arched, jerking as he shot between them and got come on his chest and stomach, and some on Tommy’s chest too. He spared one brain cell to thank God Tommy had taken off his undershirt this time. 

Chest billowing, pulse pounding in his head, Buck went limp on top of Tommy, grateful that Tommy was big enough to take his weight. He didn’t think he could move. He didn’t want to. He put his face in Tommy’s neck, gasping against his skin, and drifted.

After about two minutes, Tommy shifted beneath him.

“Legs are falling asleep,” he murmured gruffly in Buck’s ear.

Buck nodded, feeling like when his sister tried to wake him up for school when he was little. He just wanted to stay where he was, warm and comfortable. 

“Buckley,” Tommy said again, more insistently, “get up.”

They’d been in here for a while, Buck realized. Tommy probably was feeling antsy and ready to leave. 

Legs shaking, Buck stood up and stepped awkwardly back off of Tommy’s lap. Tommy kept a hand on his arm for a second, then took it away. 

“Sorry,” Buck said, looking down at his feet in their stupid socks. It didn’t make sense to take them off if they had to be ready to get dressed and leave in a hurry, but they still looked dumb.

“No — it’s. You’re just heavy.” Tommy made a breathy laughing sound, and when Buck peered up at him, a corner of his mouth was curved up. He bent and picked up his undershirt. “Here.”

Buck looked at the undershirt, then at Tommy, unsure.

As he watched, Tommy reached out with the shirt and mopped at the come on Buck’s chest and belly. Less carefully, he scrubbed at his own chest hair, then shoved the dirty shirt in the back pocket of his uniform pants, which he’d done back up.

Tommy stepped back, the movement slightly less smooth than usual. “So, yeah. Wait five minutes.” 

“Okay?” Why Tommy thought Buck would forget was beyond him. 

Abruptly, Tommy turned and left the uniform closet.

“Bye,” Buck said into the sudden, empty quiet. 

*

“Want some company?”

Buck jerked, turning his head to look down from the top bunk. He had to squint, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness in the bunk room.

Tommy had his hand on the railing next to Buck’s face, smirking up at him.

“What?”

He dragged one finger along Buck’s wrist, noticing when he shivered, smirk widening into a grin. “You seem awful lonely in here, all by yourself.”

Buck liked sleeping in the bunk beds in the back room. Most of the other guys liked to sleep in one of the two bunk rooms in the front because there were single beds in a row. Everyone complained about climbing up and down the rickety stacked beds. Buck didn’t mind, though. They reminded him of sleepovers as a kid. He liked sleeping up high. 

“What do you think?” Tommy asked, eyebrows raised. He kept rubbing his fingertip up and down against Buck’s wrist, and Buck kept trying to pretend like his heart wasn’t starting to pound, his dick twitching and getting harder the longer Tommy stood there, watching Buck curiously like he was observing an interesting creature at the zoo. 

Buck squirmed, trying to use his head. It wasn’t like he wanted to turn down even the off chance of getting off with Tommy, if it was on offer. But he hesitated anyway. This was usually way more of a risk than Tommy was comfortable with. 

“Buckley?”

Finally, Buck nodded. He blinked his eyes closed, staying prone on his front as Tommy climbed up to the top bunk, making the bed shake and then teeter precariously when he collapsed on top of Buck, who grunted at the sudden weight.

“Sorry,” Tommy murmured, reaching down to cup Buck’s ass. He hummed, squeezing, letting Buck shift up on his knees to press back, until Tommy sat up. He tapped Buck’s hip, who got up enough to yank down his boxers and pull off his undershirt. They worked seamlessly as an experienced team at this point, getting Buck naked together. 

He could feel Tommy’s uniform shirt and pants against his bare skin, but all he could hear was Tommy unzipping his pants, the rustle of his boxer briefs being pushed down.

Despite how exposed they were, he didn’t seem in a hurry, running his hands up and down Buck’s shoulders and sides, squeezing his ass, then going through the circuit again. 

It was different, having Tommy touch him all over like this while Buck was laying down all the way. It made him antsy, for some reason. 

The less of a rush Tommy seemed to be in, the more restless Buck became. His skin felt hypersensitive, like every pass of Tommy’s hands made him feel hotter, almost like he was in pain. He kept shifting, twitching, unable to stay still, even though Tommy was leaning most of his weight on him and he couldn’t go anywhere unless Tommy got up and let him.

He didn’t get Buck to turn over, though. He didn't touch his cock, and didn’t acknowledge how Buck was starting to hump against the mattress underneath him, face hot and sweat starting to gather at the backs of his knees and elbows and ankles. 

By the time he touched Buck’s asshole, it caught him off guard, making him twist away from the pressure, then catching himself and pressing back, biting his lip too hard, wanting to scream, from impatience or anticipation or both. 

Tommy made an mhmm sound, humming behind Buck’s ear, and pressed his dry thumb against Buck’s hole, inhaling when Buck’s muscles fluttered around him.

Please, Buck wanted to beg, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted him to go faster or do it another way, so he kept his bottom lip between his teeth and waited, body strung tight. 

Sitting back as much as he could, ceiling just a few feet above their heads, Tommy cupped Buck’s cheeks, spreading them wide, rough with it. Buck clenched his jaw, staying still, and heard, and then felt, when Tommy spat the first time, then again, the second a bigger glob as it landed and ran down Buck’s crack. 

Buck shifted, trying to bring his leg up to spread himself better, but Tommy straddled his knees, trapping him. He hunched forward, rubbing the spit into Buck’s hole, rough but thorough. Buck tried to stay quiet, gritting his teeth, but he must’ve made a noise.

“Shh,” Tommy murmured. He pressed his teeth into the side of Buck’s neck, not biting, just pressure.

Buck could hear him spitting into his hand again, then the wet sound of him jacking himself for a few moments.

There was the sound of plastic crinkling, and of course Tommy brought a condom. Whether he remembered lube was always hit or miss. 

When he pressed the thick head of his cock against Buck’s hole, Buck did his best not to tense.

Tommy made a shushing sound, even though Buck was completely silent.

He entered Buck slowly, pausing when the head popped in, giving Buck a second to adjust, then easing the rest of his length in, slow, inching little hunches of his hips, pressing in and in, Buck breathing rapidly, wondering if Tommy’s dick had gotten bigger or wider, it felt like there was no way it would fit like this, but Tommy didn’t stop, relentless, until he was fully seated, hips pressed flat against Buck’s ass.

“Fuck,” Tommy breathed out, barely loud enough to hear, not even a whisper.  

He dragged his open mouth down Buck’s back, laughing quietly when Buck made a sound, arching back, then caught himself. “Sorry,” he whispered, knowing he would get too loud if he let himself. 

But Tommy didn’t chastise him, just shuddered above him, and started to fuck into him in a jolting, hard pace. Buck wanted to reach back and grab at Tommy’s hips, his ass, curl an arm up around his shoulder, anything to hold on, brace himself but Tommy was heavy on top of him. He couldn’t go anywhere; he stared sightlessly at the dark wall across from him, Tommy fucking in and out like an ocean, like a wave. 

The door to the bunk room swung open, letting in a bright slant of light from the fluorescents in the hallway.

The door closed again, encasing the room in darkness once again. 

They both froze. 

Someone was shuffling across the floor, kicking off boots, throwing clothes on the ground.

There were three other bunk beds, but whoever it was went straight for the bottom bunk with Tommy buried balls deep in Buck on the top. 

The bunk swayed as the guy sat down. 

Buck’s heart was banging against his ribs, ribs compressed with the weight of Tommy pressing down on top of him.

There was a cough, then a snort. Whoever had gotten into the bottom bunk shifted, making the whole bunk bed sway gently.

After a minute or so, the sound of loud, steady snoring drifted up to the top bunk. 

After another minute of uninterrupted snoring, Tommy started to move again.

He circled his hips, pressing deeper into Buck, the movement incremental but his cock feeling even more enormous in this position. Buck stopped breathing, mouth dropping open, too aware of how close they were to getting caught to make a sound. 

Head turned with his cheek pressed to the sheet, Buck saw Tommy’s hand move, fist pressed into the mattress as he lifted himself up, just slightly.

He rolled his hips, still a small movement, but it made Buck’s entire body slide up on the bed, and the entire bunk swayed.

They both froze.

The snoring below continued, uninterrupted. 

Tommy’s hand slid over the sheet and onto Buck’s neck, the nape, then up and grabbing at the hair on the crown of his head. He pushed Buck’s face down and started fucking him with short, sharp, brutal thrusts, making a nearly inaudible grunt with each one. Buck heard every sound, though, or felt it, with Tommy’s face pressed in between his shoulder blades. 

Trapped between Tommy’s weight and the thin mattress, Buck couldn’t do much to help things along. He didn’t want to do much, his head floating at being restrained with Tommy’s perfect, thick dick in his ass. He might have liked to do more about his own dick, hard and throbbing in time with each aborted thrust, but there was at least some friction against the rough cotton sheets as Tommy rocked on top of him. 

His arms were trapped at his sides, knees parted on either side of Tommy’s legs. His toes curled, his fingers twitching, his mouth opening and closing with silent cries, and it was rising up, like waves getting higher and higher, until he didn’t need to think, need to fight, just wait for them to take him under.

Tommy was getting a little more careless, fucking into Buck a little harder, the bunkbeds swaying slightly faster. The snoring below continued, but Buck doubted he’d be able to stop Tommy if they hadn’t. Tommy barely seemed to notice, getting selfish like he did before he came, singularly focused, chasing after his orgasm.

His fingers clenched against Buck’s nape, giving a brutal fuck into Buck, almost smothering him. “Evan,” he muttered against his back, voice cracking. 

Buck’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body jerking under Tommy’s, a fruitless push up against the restraining weight as he spurted onto the sheets. 

Afterward, when they’d both caught their breath, they carefully, slowly climbed down off the bunk. 

Tommy went first, stepping back to make room for Buck to clamber down too. His legs felt barely able to support him, but he made it.

He felt Tommy grab his upper arm and turned.

Tommy’s eyes looked almost black in the shadows of the room, wide and unblinking as he stared at Buck. His hand flexed on Buck’s arm, digging deep into the flesh, then releasing. 

They both looked at the bottom bunk. Lewis. Buck shook his head, glancing up to give Tommy a wry smile. Of course it was Lewis. Lewis could sleep through anything, he was almost as legendary for that as for being a huge asshole.

Tommy didn’t return his smile; he was watching Buck, eyes still wide. The shadows made his deep eye sockets stand out like he was wearing a skeleton mask, his cheekbones sharp slashes on his face. 

“You look like the sleepy hollow horse,” Buck whispered, not really meaning to, forgetting himself in the quiet space of the bunk room.

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Like from the movie.” 

Tommy still looked confused, and if they were the kind of friends who made fun of each other, or even joked around, Buck would’ve asked how in the hell he had never seen that movie. It had scared the shit out of him and Maddie when they were kids. 

Him and Tommy weren’t those kind of friends, though. Buck wasn’t even sure they were friends. 

He shrugged, giving up. 

“I’ll throw the shirt in the wash,” Tommy whispered. He sounded strange, wooden.

Buck waited for a second, wondering if Tommy would head out first. 

But he seemed to be waiting on Buck.

An hour ago, Buck had been dead on his feet. He probably needed to nap at least a few more hours if he was going to get through the rest of this forty-eight, but he was wired now. Plus there was no way he’d be able to sleep in this room that smelled like Tommy and him fucking. 

He felt kind of bad for Lewis, leaving him to wake up here. But only for a second; Lewis was a prick. 

So with one last look at Tommy, Buck turned and left the bunk room, feeling Tommy’s eyes on him even once he was in the hallway, squinting in the light and shuffling toward the kitchen, trying to ignore the hitch in his step. 

*

Buck’s head throbbed, near the temple where he’d been knocked back against the side of the truck during the last call.

“You should go to the ER,” Tommy muttered as they walked back into the station, as close as he could get to Buck’s elbow without making actual contact.

“It’s fine,” Buck mumbled back. What he really wanted to do was go curl up on one of the top bunks and pass out for at least six hours, but he knew if he did the guys would never let him hear the end of it. 

“I heard a story about someone knocking themselves out against the engine,” Gerrard called out, louder than Buck thought was personally necessary, but he wasn’t captain so what did he know. He bit back his wince.

“The hose got loose,” Tommy said neutrally, setting down his gear near the wall. 

“Got to watch out for those, eh, Buckley?” Parish heckled, shaking Buck by the shoulders and cackling when Buck flinched away. Buck regretted the sharp movement almost immediately; his brain felt like it was sloshing around in a bucket. 

“Go put your shit away,” Tommy told Parish, stepping in Parish’s way like he barely noticed he was there. 

“What’s your problem, Kinard?” Parish asked, face screwed up in confusion.

“My problem is I’m not your mom, get your shit out of my way.”

“Calm down, I’m moving it,” Parish muttered, rolling his eyes.

Gerrard had moseyed over by now, pausing in front of Buck, gesturing with his chin so Buck would tilt his head back, giving him a look at the goose egg.

“That’s the problem with soft hands like yours,” Gerrard declared, shaking his head like he wasn’t mad, just disappointed. “Too easy to lose your grip.”

Parish and Lewis cracked up, Jones hooting from behind them. It wasn’t even that funny, and besides it was Lewis who had dropped the hose. Buck just happened to be standing behind him when it happened, and without the counterweight of someone holding it in front of him, it had whipped back and the metal casing had skimmed him just below the helmet. He’d been lucky his face was turned; if it had hit him square on he’d be in a coma.

He gave Gerrard a weak smile. “You know me, still trying to toughen up.”

Buck couldn’t seem to strike the balance Gerrard was looking for; if Buck stayed silent, he got on him for sulking like a woman; if he pushed back, he freaked out and told Buck not to catch an attitude with a superior officer; if he tried to laugh it off, Gerrard acted like Buck couldn’t take anything seriously. 

Sure enough, as soon as Buck tried to play along, Gerrard’s face went flat. “If you can’t watch your own back out there, how can you be expected to watch out for the rest of your team? You don’t want to be a liability, Buckley.”

Usually hearing that would make Buck want to melt into the floor; he’d be agonizing over it for days, trying to replay how he could’ve reacted in a way that made Gerrard, if not satisfied by him, at least not actively annoyed.

That recrimination was only delayed, but for now, all he could focus on was going somewhere to sit down.

“I’ll work on that, sir.” He was just talking on autopilot, but Gerrard narrowed his eyes.

“You watch yourself,” he warned, voice low enough the others probably didn’t hear, but Buck did, loud and clear.

“Yes, sir.”

Finally, apparently satisfied he’d proven something to both Buck and the rest of the guys, Gerrard left him alone. 

Without the entertainment of Buck getting a dressing down, the others drifted away, until Buck was alone and could let his body go slack like he’d been dying to do since he’d gotten off the engine. He put a hand on the wall and took a deep breath, then walked carefully, slowly, up to the empty kitchen. He wasn’t hungry, but he wanted to be up and away from everybody for a while.

There were dishes in the sink and someone would be on his ass to get those cleaned up soon enough, but for now he let himself settle into one of the chairs, closing his eyes in relief and sighing. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but after a while he felt something cool against his forehead. He blinked his eyes open, reaching up on reflex to hold the ice pack against his aching temple.

When he leaned back to look over his shoulder, Tommy was behind him, looking deeply disapproving. 

“You probably have a concussion.” 

“You think Gerrard’s gonna let me out of here because of that? ‘Wow, Buckley, I had no idea we were in the presence of the original glass man!’” He tilted his head as he put on his Gerrard impression, then gave it up, slumping forward because his head really did hurt. 

“Fuck Gerrard,” Tommy muttered.

He hadn’t been saying that when Gerrard had been right there in front of them, making fun of Buck for sustaining a head injury, but Buck didn’t feel like pointing that out. It wasn’t like he’d really stood up for himself, either, so he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on. 

“I’ll be fine. As long as we don’t get another call out in the next hour or so.”

Tommy sucked his teeth, looking like he wanted to say more, but when Buck just repeated, “I’ll be fine,” he let it go.

Buck readjusted the ice pack against his forehead and slumped further in his seat. He let his eyes drift closed, promising himself he wouldn’t fall all the way asleep. He knew it would be a pain in the ass to try and wake back up if they got another call. He’d just rest his eyes.

He figured Tommy would wander away while Buck dozed and assumed he was alone in the kitchen again.

After a while though, a few minutes or an hour, who knew for sure, he heard the sound of dishes clinking together and opened his eyes.

Tommy was at the sink, methodically rinsing the dishes and silverware and loading them into the dishwasher. It was shocking to see anyone in the 118 voluntarily clean a dish on their own, and something about seeing Tommy’s tall, rangy form finishing up a chore that everyone usually acted like was beneath anyone but Buck was certainly a sight.

“Thanks,” he muttered after Tommy finished with the dishwasher and closed the door.

He kept his back to Buck. “Rest here for now,” he said quietly, without turning around. “I’ll come check on you in a bit.” Finally, he glanced over his shoulder at Buck, raising an eyebrow. “Keep that ice pack on for another ten minutes.”

Buck nodded. “You’re the boss.”

He blinked as Tommy walked by, eyes sliding closed again before he left. He felt a light touch on the top of his head but figured he was imagining it. He couldn’t think of anyone at the 118 who would touch him that carefully.  

*

The opportunity to fuck in the firetruck didn’t present itself as much as porn would have had Buck believe. 

It was too risky considering how busy shifts could get, at least according to Tommy, who always studiously ignored Buck the few times inspiration had struck and he’d tried to casually gesture toward the engine at the back of the garage where it sat empty, in between calls. 

Buck gave up; they had other places to hook up. The truck was just a stupid fantasy.

Besides, their main truck ended up being out of commission for most of April anyway, up on blocks in the back loading bay behind the station. In the interim they were riding a smaller, more outdated model, which all the guys were bitching about like they were getting overtime for the effort.

Buck got assigned to go out and rinse the out-of-commission truck down with a hose, even though it was the middle of the night and their neighbors in the townhouses on either side of the firehouse had complained about unnecessary after-hours noises before. Gerrard had taken that as a challenge, and liked to send Buck out to do loud maintenance chores as soon as the sun went down.

The neighbors on one side had little kids though, and the truck didn’t need to be rinsed off that badly. So he went outside, unwound the utility hose against the wall, and set it down. If someone came out to check on him, he could pick it up in a hurry, although he doubted they would. A fight was on and most of the guys had been crowded around the big screen as he passed by.

He was staring up at the stars, or what he could see of them through the light pollution, when an arm snaked around his waist from behind.

Buck panicked, kicking a leg back. “Shit!” 

Tommy grunted and staggered, letting Buck go. “Jesus, Buckley.”

“Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t — sorry! You surprised me. Sorry.” He tried to touch Tommy’s shoulder, then pulled his hand back, in case he didn’t want that. 

They looked at each other, Buck too aware of his hands and not sure how he usually held them. Did he put them on his hips usually? Let them hang at his sides like a marionette?

While he puzzled that out, Tommy watched him, and eventually raised his eyebrows. 

“You wanna?” He jerked his chin at the truck behind Buck, who took a second to figure out what he was offering.

“What? Are you serious?” Buck knew he sounded way too eager. Tommy was smirking at him, deeply amused. But Buck couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when Tommy was apparently finally agreeing to do what was responsible for maybe ten percent of Buck’s reasoning for becoming a firefighter: fooling around in the fire truck. 

With a careful glance back at the exit door that led back into the firehouse, Tommy put a hand firmly on Tommy’s lower back and led him up the stairs and into the truck.

They got undressed fast, or Buck did, kicking off his boots and uniform and his underwear and undershirt until he was naked and sitting back across a few of the flip-down seats that lined the side of the engine. He made a mental note to scrub them down after as he watched Tommy unzip his pants, pulling his cock out to give it a few tugs, then stepped forward to get in between Buck’s legs, running his hands up Buck’s chest and onto his shoulders.

He latched onto Buck’s neck, giving a sharp suck. Buck made an “Ah!” sound, swallowing and holding Tommy’s head to keep him there. He knew Tommy wouldn’t be so careless to leave a mark, but for a second he fantasized about what that would be like. Having a mark on his neck, knowing it was from Tommy, knowing the guys would see it and have no idea who put it there.

Tommy wasn’t in the mood to linger, not wasting too much time feeling Buck up before he got his hand between his legs and began fingering him, thorough but a little careless, the roughness making Buck’s dick turn so hard he had to grab on, squeeze at the tip, keep himself from coming.

Tommy’s lip curled, teeth showing. “Eager,” he murmured.

“Uh-huh,” Buck agreed, nodding. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be?

As he looked up, Tommy’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating. “Fuck.”

He got his dick in Buck pretty soon after that, Buck opening easily at this point from how often they’d been sneaking away to fuck like this. He drew Buck’s right leg up high, propping it up on his shoulder, curling his arm around Buck’s other thigh and holding him wide open. Having his way with Buck. 

All Buck had to do was let him. 

He let his head loll back, wanting to do exactly that.

He closed his eyes to take in the smack of Tommy’s hips against his, his sharp breathing, Buck’s own deep moans. He was so hard already, he wodered if he came too soon, if Tommy wouldn’t stop, that he’d keep fucking Buck anyway until he finished. He was pretty sure Tommy would. He hoped he would. 

“God,” he heard Tommy breathe out on a shaky exhale, making Buck’s eyes flutter open. He tilted his head so he could look up at him, and caught the way Tommy was running his eyes and hands up and down Buck’s legs like he couldn’t stop. “What are your legs so long for, man?”

Buck tossed his head to the side, feeling ready to come out of his skin. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, “they’re from my mom’s side.”

That startled a chuckle out of Tommy, and when Buck looked up he was smiling down at him, face gleaming with sweat, but more open than Buck was used to seeing. 

Buck smiled back at him, feeling shy at first as he held the eye contact. Tommy dipped his head and pressed his mouth to the side of Buck’s knee, sucking. Buck moaned, arching his back and wrapped his other leg more tightly around Tommy’s back, pulling him in.

“Do me,” he begged, “just fucking pound me, okay?”

Tommy nodded, almost earnest about it, his hair flopping against his forehead. He fucked his hips forward harder, groaning and circling his cock in him for a moment, then pulling out slow and slamming in just as hard again. 

His speed built slowly, hips smacking against Buck with each meaty thrust until the little flip-down seats were rattling and Buck couldn’t stop groaning, the sound breaking and jerking each time Tommy’s hips hit his ass.

They were both being way louder than usual, mostly Buck but Tommy too. It was something about being in the truck, doors closed, outside of the firehouse. Buck couldn’t worry about whether Tommy was going to get irritated at him making too much noise, and Tommy’s eyes were heavy-lidded and locked on where his cock was slipping in and out of Buck’s ass, mouth hanging open like he was mesmerized. He didn’t look capable of policing how loud anyone was being. He kept letting out these shocked-sounding grunts himself, short, percussive, the best thing Buck had ever heard.

Tommy slowed for a second, and when Buck blinked at him, he dragged a hand to rest on Buck’s throat, raising his eyebrows like he was checking. This okay? Buck could only nod, feverish with it. You can do whatever you want with me, he wanted to say, if he could find the breath.

He saw the pulse in Tommy’s neck jump, and his hand twitched, then went still, just resting on Buck’s throat, his palm a counterweight against Buck’s pulse.

Buck’s orgasm snuck up on him, hand loose on his dick until suddenly he had to stroke hard, fast, chasing after the pressure that was building. His head snapped back, eyes open and staring at the ceiling as he shot in ropes up his chest, some hitting his chin. 

His legs went limp, one falling slack from Tommy’s waist. Tommy still had the other up on his shoulder. When Buck opened his eyes, bleary, Tommy was staring at his face.

“Fuck,” he stuttered as he humped gracelessly into Buck, eyes darting back and forth from Buck’s eyes to his mouth and back again, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” He grimaced, falling forward as he busted, burying his face in Buck’s shoulder.

Gingerly, Buck wrapped an arm around Tommy’s back, feeling his hot, damp skin through the thin fabric of his undershirt.

Tommy let him, gasping against his neck until his heartbeat started to slow.

Buck started counting in his head, wondering how long Tommy would stay there, letting Buck hold him like this.

The answer was about ninety seconds. 

Eventually, Tommy stiffened in preparation of hauling himself up to standing. 

He looked down at his undershirt, at where Buck’s come had gotten on him. 

He stripped it off and stuffed it in his back pocket, buttoning his uniform shirt over his bare chest. He kept his head down as he fixed his pants, redid his belt.

Buck watched him, too spent to do anything but lay there observing.

Tommy glanced up at him and froze, eyes dragging slowly up Buck’s naked body, from his legs to his spent cock flopped on his belly, the come starting to dry, Buck’s bare chest, his throat.

Landing on Buck’s face.

“You should get cleaned up,” Tommy said gruffly.

Buck didn’t really trust himself to speak yet, so he nodded and slowly pulled himself up to sitting.

Tommy made an aborted movement toward him, like he was going to lend a hand, then stopped himself. 

Instead he leaned down and grabbed a handful of Buck’s clothes, his uniform pants and undershirt by the looks of it, and tossed them gently in Buck’s direction.

Buck caught them, looking down at the fabric as he mumbled, “Thanks.”

Rather than watch Tommy walk out and leave him there to get dressed on his own, he kept his gaze down down.

He stared at the LAFD insignia on his uniform shirt as he listened to the truck door open, then close, and the sound of uniform boots clattering down the stairs and off into the night.

*

As the 118 pulled back into the firehouse, the mood in the truck was grim. 

Nobody spoke until Rodriguez put the truck in park, the shocks letting out a hiss as the vehicle came to a halt.

Gerrard turned around from the front seat. “Every single one of you should be embarrassed,” he said, voice dripping with contempt. “That was an absolute shit show.”

He didn’t look directly at Tommy, but everyone else in the truck knew that was who he was talking to.

Gerrard hopped out of the truck and stalked off. The rest of the crew moved more slowly after him.

Parish jerked his chin in Tommy’s direction. “I guess all those muscles are just decorative after all, huh, big guy?”

“Ol’ butterfingers,” Lewis intoned. 

They laughed, sharp and heckling, like a couple of hyenas. 

Tommy’s face was flat, no emotion, as he hauled his gear off the truck after Lewis and Parish. Buck brought up the rear, exhausted and irritated. 

It was just a bad call, bad luck all around. Tommy had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

He could tell Tommy was hurrying to get away, trying to avoid the rest of them, but it only seemed to egg Lewis and Parish on. 

“Aww, look at him, he’s getting all emotional,” Lewis called out, still laughing. “Come on, Kinard, fucking relax, learn to take a joke.”

“Yeah, life’s too short, you know?” Parish smirked, holding for a moment, then delivering, “Just ask that lady after you let her fall.”

Tommy didn’t fully wince, but Buck could see his mouth tighten. 

“Hey,” Buck blurted out. “Knock it off.”

“What was that, Buckley?”

“I said, why don’t you just shut up?”

Parish scowled at him. “Who do you think you are, probie, telling me anything?” At the very least, his and Lewis’s focus had been neatly diverted from Tommy.

Unfortunately, it was now on Buck.

“We all did the best we could,” Buck said, knowing in his gut he was telling the truth. They really had. At his most compassionate, he could even argue that was one of the reasons Parish and Lewis were being such dicks, because it had been brutal seeing the lady fall. It still didn’t make it alright they were putting it all on Tommy, when she’d tripped and gone over the edge of the high rise before he could get the harness on her. “All of us.”

“You sure about that, Buckley? You sure you did everything?” Lewis flung a hand in Tommy’s direction, careless. “Because I think if ‘we’ could’ve been a little fucking faster, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen ten stories onto pavement, what do you think, Parish?”

“I think you might have a point there, buddy, I really do.”

“Who does this help?” Buck asked, in sincere bafflement. “Going after each other like this, going after Tommy. How does this make what happened any better?”

“What, are you his mom now?” Lewis was getting in Buck’s face, and Buck had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. His muscles were screaming. The last thing any of them needed was to throw a punch and give Gerrard an actual reason to lose his shit. 

“Shut up,” Tommy said under his breath to Buck, low enough that only Buck heard.

Buck startled, glancing at him. “What?”

Tommy gave him a quick look, expression still so neutral, but Buck could tell he was pissed at him. At him, not Parish or Lewis or any of the other guys who just stood around watching him get hassled half to death. 

Buck closed his mouth. Fine. If Tommy just wanted to stand there while the guys gave them shit, then fine.

Now he was in a bad mood himself, shoving past Parish to go put his gear away, ignoring the grating laughter at his back as Lewis and Parish crowed, satisfied they’d gotten a rise out of him.

A half hour later, he’d calmed down a little bit, but he was still irritated, and even more so when he couldn’t figure out where Tommy had gone. Most of the guys were blowing off steam at the pool table or upstairs heating up food, but after a couple laps, Buck still couldn’t find where Tommy had gone. 

He wasn’t in the bunk room either, nowhere Buck could think of.

Nowhere inside, at least.

When Buck pushed open the door to the back alley, he saw Tommy leaning against the wall before Tommy clocked him.

“There you are.” He shut the door behind him, and that seemed to yank Tommy out of his thoughts.

He flinched, pushing off from where he’d been hunched against the brick. He rolled his eyes when he saw Buck. “What are you doing out here,” he said hotly, “go back inside.” 

The irritation radiated off of him, but Buck found himself wandering closer anyway. “I was just wondering where you were.” Through extreme effort, he kept himself from asking, pathetically, Are you mad at me? Instead, he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. “That was, uh. Kind of heavy, in there.” 

He came to stand in front of Tommy, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from touching him, but seemed unwise, given the look in Tommy’s eye.

“I don’t need you to stand up for me,” Tommy told him. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you even fucking say anything, Buck?” Tommy smacked his palm hard against the wall, the flat sound echoing in the alleyway. Looked like it hurt. “Fuck.”

Buck couldn’t really say what kept drawing him forward. He knew Tommy just wanted him to leave, go back inside. He kept inching forward anyway, until he could lean a shoulder right next to Tommy on the wall.

“Because it wasn’t your fault.”

Somehow, that was apparently the worst thing he could’ve said. 

Moving too quickly for Buck to really track, Tommy took him by the shoulders and shoved him against the wall, not quite a slam, but the impact sending dull shockwaves of pain through his back and neck. “Tommy, shit,” he exclaimed, more out of reflex than anything. 

He clasped Tommy’s forearms to steady himself, but then just left them there. Eyes on Tommy, whose nostrils were flaring, heavy breaths coursing in and out as he glared down at Buck. 

His hands squeezed Buck’s shoulders tight, fingers dug into the fabric of his uniform shirt, holding Buck so tightly he was forced up slightly on the balls of his feet.

“Tommy,” Buck said softly.

“Shut up,” Tommy snapped, shoving him back against the wall again, even though there wasn’t much room. Buck was as close to the wall as he was going to get.

He stared at Tommy, so close he could see the lines around his mouth and eyes. 

The bleak light in his eyes. 

He wanted to say his name again, but he didn’t know what Tommy would allow.

Tentatively, Buck rubbed his thumb on the underside of Tommy’s forearm, through his shirt, a light friction back and forth. Biting his lip, holding back the flow of words, because he still, to this day, didn’t know what Tommy wanted from him, or what he would accept. 

Tommy’s eyes slid down to Buck’s mouth, and caught there, locked in as Buck swallowed, lips parting. 

Buck held his breath. He waited for him to lean forward, to kiss Buck, to finally know what Tommy’s mouth felt like on his.

Tommy released his grip on Buck’s shoulders, shifting back, and reached down for Buck’s pants, his fly, unzipping it with an almost clumsy urgency, staring down at his own hands, no longer looking at Buck’s face. 

Confused, Buck went to open his mouth, but without even looking up at him Tommy said, “Quiet,” commanding, but desperate too, so Buck obeyed. 

If that was what Tommy wanted from him right now, he could give it.

He let his arms drop to his sides and widened his stance, giving him room. He watched through lidded eyes as Tommy got his dick out, wrapped his hand around it and gave it a few quick, impatient jerks until Buck started getting hard. It wasn’t ever very sexy out here, near the dumpsters where Buck could smell the trash, but it never took him long to get into it when it was with Tommy. Right now, with Tommy looming over him, big hands touching Buck’s dick like it belonged to him, stopping to lick his hand and then getting back into it, long firm strokes, rubbing his thumb against the underside of the head, Buck was gasping and squirming in no time. 

He didn’t know what to do with his hands, squeezing them into fists at his sides, then flattening his palms against the brick, until he jerked forward against Tommy, and he flung his hands out, catching himself at the last second so they were floating at Tommy’s shoulders. He couldn’t tell if Tommy wanted to be touched, or if he’d even let Buck.

Tommy wrapped his other hand tightly around Buck’s hip, on the bare skin under his shirt above his pants, pressing Buck back against the wall.

Buck bit his lip, fighting to keep quiet, face hot and sweaty, pulse pounding as he stared at Tommy’s face, the intent expression as he looked down at his hand wrapped around Buck’s dick, wrist working ruthlessly to yank an orgasm out of him. 

He was able to swallow back all his gasps until the end, when it all came rushing up. He let out a loud, moaning sound, falling forward and grasping Tommy’s shoulders mindlessly, burrowing his face into Tommy’s neck as he jerked, coming between them. 

Tommy kept going, kept stroking him, drawing out the last drop until Buck was shuddering, too sensitive.

Finally, Tommy eased up, bringing his hand away. He was breathing hard too as he stared at it, then lifted his head to meet Buck’s eye.

For an insane, dizzying moment, Buck thought Tommy was going to put his hand to Buck’s face, make him lick it off. Buck’s mouth filled with spit, letting his lips part.

Tommy’s eyes flicked down at the movement, and he swallowed.  

But then he wiped it off on the brick next to Buck’s face. 

He was so close his face was out of focus, two noses, eyes blurry, but Buck didn’t look away. Couldn’t. He was poised, ready for whatever Tommy asked for next.

To his surprise, Tommy looked down and began doing up Buck’s pants. Buck tried to help, but Tommy pushed his hands away, so Buck let him.

When he was finished, Tommy ran his clean hand through his hair and looked down, almost rueful, before he met Buck’s eye again. 

He looked ready to say something. The anger from before had drained away, and the way he looked at Buck now was difficult to interpret. He was hard, but he reached down to adjust himself, not going to unzip, even though Buck was dying to drop to his knees, could practically taste Tommy in his mouth already. 

But Tommy stepped back, the sudden loss of his body destabilizing Buck, making him have to grasp at the wall to hold himself up.  

Again, Buck waited for him to say something, because Tommy was clearly thinking it. Whatever it was, it was making his brow furrow, like he was working out a puzzle. 

Instead, he kept walking backward, body rigid. Almost…awkward, which was an unfamiliar look for Tommy.

When he reached the door, he actually raised a hand, like he was going to wave goodbye, then looked horrified at himself and turned and left.

He didn’t even tell Buck to wait five minutes. 

He did anyway, the habit too ingrained. 

That, and he needed the time to himself, to replay what had just happened, and try to figure out exactly what he had missed. 

*

Buck still didn’t know a lot of people in LA. His shifts were so long, and when he got home he was usually exhausted. Normally he’d want to at least make the time go and pick up, but he was getting laid plenty at work, so when he was off, he mostly slept. 

He did get lonely, though.

He had a stretch of four days off, and by the third night was pretty sure he was going nuts. He didn’t think he had another night spent watching Scrubs on his laptop with the busted screen in him before he officially lost it.

In less than twenty-four hours he’d be back at the 118 and the unsteady quicksand of people trying to remain in Gerrard’s good graces. Seeing Tommy, and wondering if this would be a shift when Tommy would jerk his chin at Buck, take him back to a supply closet or out back, or if it would be one of those days he’d be suddenly on edge, aloof and making it impossible for Buck to catch his eye. 

If he’d look like he was about to kiss him again, and then step away.

Restless, he put on a tight shirt and his favorite pair of going-out jeans and left the apartment, a vague idea in his head, calling an uber and putting in the name of a club he’d oh-so-casually taken note of when they’d responded to a gas leak a few weeks ago. 

He didn’t really let himself think about where he was going until his uber driver pulled up at the curb, giving him a friendly but knowing, “Have a good night,” as Buck got out at Revolver. 

It was a fun scene, loud dancey music blaring from the speakers making his ears ring, the dance floor filled with the throb of bodies pressed together. Lots of hot guys. Lots of hot guys, shit. It was freeing, being able to look at all these half-dressed dudes and allowing himself to admit he was looking at their asses, their abs, their jaws, and he wasn’t thinking about what kind of reps they did in the gym (well, not only that — some of these dudes were jacked). 

He could grind with some hot guy, and he was still the same person. This was just something could do now, the same way he could go to a bar and talk to a pretty girl and take her home after, if he wanted to. It didn’t change who he was; it made him more himself. His whole self. 

He felt like he was really having a moment.

He gazed up at the mirrored ceiling, Britney Spears pounding in his ears, some stranger’s thick arm wrapped around his waist and letting him lean back against him as Buck swayed to the beat. He’d spent years feeling like there was a piece of himself missing, and he’d managed to find it and carefully slot it in at some gay bar in WeHo.

After a while the arm around his waist tightened, and Buck shifted, looking behind him at the guy he was dancing with. He had a wry, gentle smile on his face. He was older than Buck or Tommy, in his early fifties at least.

He was hot, though. For an old guy. Super muscled.

He put his mouth to Buck’s ears and shouted, “Can I buy you a drink, handsome?”

“Oh, thanks, but I’m seeing.” He stopped himself, blinking. He was about to say he was with someone. Why would he say that? “I mean.”

The guy tilted his head, questioning, but he didn’t take his arm away. He kept it loose, giving Buck space to pull away if he wanted.

The dude’s other hand was on Buck’s hip, he realized, his thumb pressed against the bare skin under his shirt. He felt it, and thought he could lean into him, and this guy would definitely let Buck kiss him. They could make out, and it wouldn’t matter who saw them here.

Testing things out, he arched back against the guy, who smiled, tugging Buck against him. He was so warm, big and muscley, a little taller than Buck.

Probably Tommy’s height.

He felt chilled, suddenly, something like guilt in his throat. it didn’t make any sense, he knew that. You couldn’t cheat on someone you weren’t actually dating.

The thought left him deeply bummed, so much he found himself pulling away from the nice man with the big arms.

He went home alone, aware that no one was making him. He’d decided that on his own.

On his next shift, he knew he was being quiet, and even though the rest of the guys didn’t really notice, he felt Tommy’s eyes on him once or twice.

He kept thinking about the bar, and how he’d felt so free, but only for a while.

During dinner break, he heated up some ramen and picked at it, brooding, until the rest of the guys finished and left, plates and dishes on the table waiting for the probie to put away. He sighed and started gathering them up. 

Tommy came up to stand next to him while Buck was doing the dishes. He handed Buck a plate, then a glass, keeping a casual distance between them, even though Montez was on his phone and across the room in the kitchen, ignoring them.

Usually, Buck would be racking his brain for something cool and interesting to say, but he couldn’t shake his listlessness. So he quietly finished his chore without speaking, at least appreciating the comfort of another body beside him. 

After a while, Tommy cleared his throat. “How was your time off?” He kept his voice even, almost disinterested, but it still caught Buck off guard. 

He stared down at the water splashing into the sink. “What?”

“Do anything fun?” 

It was so out of the blue, it surprised him into answering. “Oh, uh, nothing too exciting. I tried a new bar?”

Tommy made a polite listening noise, and when he didn’t say anything else, Buck felt compelled to carry it along. “Revolver. You ever heard of it?”

He didn’t know how well-versed Tommy might be in local gay bars, but when Tommy’s brow quirked, he knew he recognized the name.

“You have fun?” His voice was still so even. It usually was, but right now it felt intentionally so. 

Buck shrugged. “Yeah. It was good.”

Tommy didn’t say anything for a minute or so, handing Buck the plates, watching as he put the last of them in the dishwasher and closing the door.

“You go home alone?”

He said it so quietly, Buck barely heard him, but Buck still glanced over his shoulder at Montez, who remained deeply focused on texting his wife.

Buck looked up at Tommy, bewildered. 

Tommy raised his eyebrows, and didn’t say anything else. 

A vague irritation was crawling up Buck’s spine, making him roll his shoulders. “What?”

Tommy just stood there, leaning a hip against the counter, almost imperious as he looked at Buck, like he was entitled to an answer. 

Buck wondered if he would be this annoyed if the answer was actually no, he hadn’t gone home alone. As it was, it was like Tommy could read his mind and knew Buck had gotten in his own way, and was still going to make him admit it.

Well, at least he could refuse to do that much.

“What do you care?”

He felt his spark of defiance melting away as he heard himself and realized that if he didn’t get out of here right now, he might have to listen to Tommy answer that question. 

He turned and quickly left the kitchen, catching a brief look of Tommy before he zoomed by, and at least Tommy looked more confused than outraged, and not like he felt bad for what a loser Buck was. So there was that.

He heard the rest of the crew laughing loudly about something, and for a second he considered heading that way, because at least if he was surrounded by other people Tommy would be guaranteed to leave him alone.

But he knew Parish and Lewis were in there, and while the other guys had mostly lost interest in ragging on Buck themselves, it wasn’t like they intervened if Parish and Lewis were in a combative mood. 

So he veered to the left, off toward the cleaning closet. He’d mopped during his last shift, but the other crew always did a terrible job and there were footprints and mud streaks everywhere. He could be useful, and work out some of his frustrated energy.

But as soon as he was in the supply closet, the door opened again, and when he turned around, Tommy was there, eyes dark.

Buck rattled the mop against its bucket. “Excuse me,” he said, then winced at himself. Jesus, why was he talking like the butler?

Tommy ignored the bucket, the mop, and stalked closer, not stopping until he had Buck backed up against the cabinet.

Against his will, Buck felt his heart start to pound, his dick filling up in his pants. Conditioned to respond with Tommy so close.

He let Tommy undo his pants, stick a hand in. Use his other hand to tilt Buck’s chin up, forcing him to look Tommy in the eye. Like Buck would look anywhere else, when Tommy was right in front of him. 

He cupped Buck’s dick, squeezing just on the edge of painful. “Did he touch you here?”

Buck started panting, pulse racing in his ears. Still, some stubborn part of him refused to shake or nod his head, holding still, which seemed to frustrate Tommy more. 

“Or like this?” He kicked Buck’s feet apart and snaked his hand deeper inside, rubbing his knuckles behind Buck’s balls, a mind-numbing pressure on his taint. 

Buck kicked his head back, hands clenched on the shelving behind him. 

God, he was going to bust soon, just from some rough groping from Tommy. He was so easy for him, for this little pretend display of possessiveness or whatever he was trying to achieve, like it wasn’t enough that Buck would go to his knees whenever Tommy wanted, he needed Buck to beg for it. Like he was some joke. 

Buck straightened, dislodging Tommy’s hand on him. 

If he wanted to fuck, he didn’t have to pretend like he cared about getting Buck off first. 

He pushed Tommy’s hands away, turning so his back was to him and bending over the cabinet, their usual position. He reached behind to shove his pants and his underwear down, ass bare. “Do it,” he said bluntly.

Behind him, Tommy was silent. He didn’t move, and Buck made an aggravated sound. “Come on, man.” He still wanted to get the mopping done before their next call, if he had time.

He waited, and waited, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Tommy was still just standing there, looking almost wrongfooted.

Impatient, Buck stood and turned around, moving toward him. “Fine.” He went for his zipper, starting to undo it as he bent to get down to his knees.

Tommy caught his arm, hauling him up. “Buck,” he muttered, consternation in his furrowed brow. His tone had shifted, from proprietarily demanding, to almost soft.

It made Buck’s cheeks burn, humiliated and not totally sure why.

He made a sound, tugging at Tommy’s hold on his forearm, but not hard at all. He didn’t really want to get away. He wasn’t sure what he wanted.

Tommy hushed him, not in a usual “be quiet” way. He pressed his mouth to Buck’s neck, sucking lightly, not enough for a hickey, always deliberately never enough for that, but enough that it sent a jolt of heat through Buck’s body, back to his dick, which was still hard and insistent, poking through his unzipped pants. His dick was never conflicted, not like his head, or his heart. 

He wasn’t gentle with him, but Buck could feel him taking care not to toss him around like usual. Buck usually loved being reminded that Tommy was big enough to manhandle him, but in its own way, this was just as hot as Tommy maneuvered him around, steady but unyielding. He could move Buck how he wanted him, even if he didn’t put his back into it.

Buck grabbed at Tommy’s back, holding on as Tommy sucked on his neck, until Tommy moved and dragged up Buck’s shirt, running his hands up his belly, his chest, down his sides. He tugged and Buck lifted his arms to get the shirt off, and then dropped his arms back down, pliant as Tommy turned him around again, pulling his pants all the way down, his boxer briefs, and squeezed his ass, mouth against Buck’s shoulders as he arched his back into it. Buck’s mouth fell open as Tommy spread his cheeks, rubbed at it with his thumb.

Buck heard him rustle for something in his own pocket, the click of a bottle, then the cool wetness of lube trickling down his crack. He inhaled, surprised, pushing back into Tommy’s hands. 

Tommy didn’t always have lube, and Buck liked the roughness of the stretch with just spit, but even when he did bring slick, he didn’t take this much time with it.

Now he seemed intent on fucking Buck with his fingers, like he wasn’t even in a hurry.

Buck opened his mouth to tell him he didn’t need to, but Tommy slipped in another finger, stretching the rim, and Buck twitched, falling forward, and forgot what he was going to say. 

He slipped into a dreamy half-daze, shifting and arching and pressing back as Tommy got three fingers into him, pressing in and out, rubbing at his prostate lazily every few strokes, but not with intent. Just playing with Buck, letting him squirm, rubbing his other hand up and down Buck’s back in long, firm strokes.

When Tommy finally pressed inside of him, exhaling against the back of Buck’s neck, Buck let out a groan, quiet, even though he tried to hold it back. Tommy’s hands flexed on his hips in a tight grip and Buck gritted his teeth, fighting to stay quiet. 

He tightened his fist on the cabinet shelf, gritting his teeth, silent as Tommy went in, and in, and finally bottomed out. He breathed heavily, adjusting to the stretch. Tommy always took up so much room for Buck, especially when they fucked. It was like Buck forgot everything, his own name, left with just the feeling of someone bigger than him, stronger than him, taking him apart at their leisure. 

Tommy fucked him with long, hard, demanding thrusts, never letting Buck go lax against the cabinet, making it so Buck had to work for it too, keep engaging his core to hold himself up against the onslaught. 

He used his grip on Buck’s hips to drag him back into each meaty smack of their hips together, louder than any noises Buck was biting back, but Tommy kept smashing his face against Buck’s nape, not noticing or caring about the sound for once. 

Almost like he was lost in it as much as Buck was, but Buck knew that couldn’t be the case.

He was into it, though. That was enough, Buck decided, that Tommy was panting and sweating on him and couldn’t seem to catch his breath. That Buck was making him feel so good he kept reaching to squeeze his ass, pulling his cheeks apart, and Buck thought, or hoped, that he kept leaning back because he wanted to stare down at where he was spearing into his hole, over and over. 

Tommy came first, staying in him as Buck stripped his own cock feverishly, back bowing as he gasped, squeezing around Tommy’s softening dick. Tommy made the smallest sound, a bare intake of breath, but didn’t pull out to take care of the condom until Buck was done and collapsed against the cabinet. 

They were quiet as they got dressed. They usually were, but Buck couldn’t stop glancing at him, and one or two times, Tommy was looking at him too.

When they were both decent again, Tommy didn’t move to leave right away.

Buck glanced under his eyelashes at him. “I didn’t actually go home with anyone. You know that, right?”

Slow, nearly tentative, Tommy reached a hand out and brushed it against Buck’s arm. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.” He let his fingers rest there for a moment, while they both looked down at it.

When he finally took his hand away, he nodded at Buck. “You leave first.”

That was a first. Buck bit his lip. “Okay, wait five minutes.”

He kept the sight of Tommy’s surprised smile in his back pocket for the rest of his shift.

*

Buck didn’t think he was acting differently during his next overnight, but Tommy shot him a look once or twice, and finally even Parish demanded, “Buckley, why do you keep freaking sighing tonight? Jesus, you’re making me depressed.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically. He felt his phone in his pocket like a heavy stone and refused to take it out to look at it. 

He slurped down the last of his cereal and went to put his bowl in the dishwasher. As he passed Tommy at the table in the kitchen, one of the handful of guys grabbing food before their next call, he looked up, catching Buck’s eye.

Buck shrugged and kept it moving. Luckily, the alarm went off, and they were on the truck shortly after that, and the calls kept going for the full twelve hours.

It was a grueling shift. By the end of it, he was officially twenty-two. His back was aching; he felt at least a decade older.

The guys filtered out at shift change, passing the next crew (mostly guys, but two women too, and Buck wondered why the 118 had only men, then remembered: Gerrard existed) as they came on. 

Buck’s crew headed into the locker room, guys in twos and threes chattering tiredly about the Lakers game and the last weird call at the retirement home.

Finally, Buck let himself pull out his phone.

The screen was still empty. No new texts.

“Waiting on an important call?”

Tommy was right at his shoulder, making Buck jump. “Shit, you’re quiet.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten that feedback.” He crossed his arms, nodding at Buck’s phone. “I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t been checking that all night like usual.”

“I’m not on my phone that much,” Buck protested, somewhat weakly. It was the one Gerrard complaint on his character that Buck felt had some merit, and he was trying to limit himself while on shift. He put the phone back in his pocket. 

He hadn’t been planning to say anything else. It didn’t matter anyway, and he knew Tommy wouldn’t really care. 

And yet, he heard himself say, voice glum, “My parents didn’t text.”

When he looked over, Tommy’s eyebrows were raised. “Oh. Were you expecting them to?”

Buck shrugged. “It’s my birthday. Well, it was my birthday, yesterday. Ended a few hours ago.” 

He didn’t know why it was bugging him, they never remembered. 

But Maddie had sent him a happy birthday Buck!!!!! text the morning before, and she’d said something about how she’d talked to them earlier. She’d made it sound like they were going to call him, or at least text. 

It just would’ve been nice. 

He’d kind of figured Tommy would’ve kept moving along while Buck was brooding to himself, and was surprised when Tommy was still at his shoulder as they walked into the main bay. 

He kept pace with Buck a they stepped out into the parking lot, which was empty of all the other cars from guys on their crew. 

To Buck’s absolute surprise, Tommy said, “Let me get you a birthday shot.” 

Buck winced, apparently so pathetic that his reluctant hookup felt compelled to offer him a pity drink. “No, you don’t have to.”

“What, you don’t want to get a drink with me?” He gazed steadily at Buck, not fluttering his eyelashes or anything, but Buck couldn’t help but notice how long they were. They cast shadows on his cheeks in the light from the parking lot lights.

“Well, I mean. You didn’t want to. Before.” Buck stumbled, feeling tongue tied.

A slow, close-mouthed smile spread on Tommy’s face. “I didn’t know that was my only shot.”

Buck shook his head, mouth falling open. “Uh, you didn’t. It wasn’t.”

Tommy’s smile widened.

They took his truck to the bar, a little dive not too far from the station.

“It’s no Revolver,” Tommy said dryly as he held the door open for Buck, “but I’ve come here with some of the guys after a shift once or twice.”

Buck scanned the room. It was pretty empty, actually, but then again it was a Tuesday. Even people in LA had to get up in the morning, he supposed.

He felt on edge, not sure how he was supposed to be acting. Tommy went to such lengths to keep distance between them at work, it was throwing Buck’s head for a loop trying to remember how two coworkers hung out together normally, or at least if they were trying not to broadcast that they fucked during work a lot of the time. 

Tommy seemed to not be struggling with these same existential questions. He led Buck to a booth in the back, waiting until Buck sat down, and offered, “I’ll get the drinks, birthday boy.” He wasn’t even flirting, or didn’t sound like it, but Buck kicked his feet against the back of his chair anyway, cheeks going red, feeling bashful and pleased.

“Tequila soda, please.”

Tommy smirked. “Of course.”

As they sat at the little booth, sipping their drinks, it took all the restraint Buck had not to interrogate Tommy about what he was even doing, taking Buck out, after months of keeping Buck at arm’s length. 

He was so focused on keeping a lid on that urge that he ended up getting tipsier than he meant to. By the time he caught on, he didn’t really fight it. 

Tommy was mostly letting Buck ramble, talking about the trip he took two summers ago to South America, and the two weeks he’d spent at Navy Seals training before he’d dropped out, and came to LA. Following a friend, actually, and sitting across from his male hookup buddy, didn’t that put his impulse to chase after Connor into fresh perspective. 

Occasionally, Tommy asked a question, or made a questioning hum, but seemed mostly content to listen to Buck.

It was nice. Not a lot of people had the patience, when Buck got going. Tommy’s attention made the last of Buck’s tension drip away, that and his fourth tequila soda. 

Soon he was swaying in his seat, chewing on the straw of his drink and humming to the Kesha song on the bar speakers. God, she was so good. “God, she’s so good!” he said loudly to Tommy, who raised an eyebrow.

“Big Kesha fan?”

“Oh, yeah. I love pop music. Well, and rap. And country. Techno, too.”

“Big music fan,” Tommy observed, voice wry.

Buck beamed at him. “Definitely.”

After a while of Buck giving a thorough review of every concert he’d been to in the last three years, he sucked down the last of his current drink and sighed. 

It wasn’t a text from his parents, but as far as birthdays went, he’d had worse.

Like he could read Buck’s mind, Tommy said, quietly, “Happy birthday, Evan.”

Buck blinked at him. His chest was tight suddenly, like he’d been running, or was about to cry.

They were sitting next to each other in the corner of the booth, both of them easing closer as the night wore on, or mostly Buck, posture loose and wobbly in the booth, and Tommy not moving away. 

He stared at Tommy’s wide shoulders, the tendon in his forearms. His jaw was so strong. Buck had sucked on that jaw! He couldn’t see Tommy’s dick because the table was in the way, but he knew what it felt like. He’d had that dick in his mouth !

Without really thinking about anything but how much he wanted to get his hands on him, Buck leaned in, snaking his hands into Tommy’s lap and groping around. 

Tommy lifted Buck’s hands away, depositing them back in Buck’s lap firmly. “Don’t do that here,” he said, voice low and terse. “I told you, some of the guys come here sometimes.”

“They’re not here, though,” Buck pointed out, feeling daring.

Tommy gave him a quelling look, but didn’t argue anymore, and Buck, fueled by tequila sodas, was emboldened. “I bet you none of the guys are in the bathroom, either.” 

He raised his eyebrows up and down, leering. 

Tommy huffed out a reluctant laugh, rolling his eyes. 

“How drunk are you?” he asked, taking Buck’s drink and peering down at the ice cubes knocking around in there. 

“Not too much.” Buck didn’t try to touch Tommy’s dick again, but he swayed closer, staring into Tommy’s eyes. “Come on, it’s my birthday.”

“It was yesterday, apparently.”

Buck gave his best wide, sad gaze.

Tommy, to Buck’s delight, was a sucker for it.

Hooking up in a bar bathroom was not functionally that different from a firehouse supply closet. It was a single, so they could lock the door, so in a way it was an upgrade.

Tommy pushed him against the door as soon as it was closed, licking and biting at his neck.

Buck moaned, testing out how loud he could be with the music from the bar drowning him out. 

Tommy pulled back, giving him a look, mouth pursed, but he looked amused more than anything. 

Buck swallowed, entranced by the looseness of Tommy’s shoulders. He seemed almost relaxed. More importantly, his face was a few inches from Buck’s, his mouth curved up in a small smile.

Without overthinking the urge, Buck put his hand on Tommy’s jaw. 

At the firehouse, he would never have pushed for it, too worried he’d drive Tommy away for being too pushy. But Tommy had invited him here, and they were outside those rules, or at least Buck wanted to believe they were.

When he touched Tommy’s cheek, Tommy stilled.

It’s my birthday, Buck tried to silently beg, leaning in, lips falling open. So close. 

Slowly, painfully slowly, Tommy leaned in. Closer, a little closer.

Buck held his breath, and didn’t let it go until Tommy’s mouth was on his, tongue sweeping into his mouth, kissing him with a possessive air, like Buck’s mouth had belonged to him this whole time.

Buck went a little nuts with it.

He writhed against Tommy’s body, wrapping his arms around his neck, yanking him down.

“Please,” Buck moaned against Tommy’s mouth, “Please, please, please.” Every time Tommy tried to pull back to get at Buck’s pants, or to turn him around, Buck kept getting in his way, twisting so he could kiss him again, sloppy and wet, groaning when Tommy let him, when he sucked on Buck’s tongue or his bottom lip. 

Buck was probably making up how hungry Tommy felt for it, like he was almost as drunk on Buck’s mouth as Buck was on his. But Buck knew that was impossible. 

He didn’t want to let either of them stop though, in case this was the only time he got it.

“Fuck, okay,” Tommy muttered finally, a breathless laugh escaping. “Okay, stop.” He spun Buck around with confident, pushy hands, bending him over the sink and working at undoing his belt and zipper, yanking his pants down.

Buck panted as he stared at his red face in the mirror sink. Behind him, Tommy loomed, spitting down into his hand and rubbing at Buck’s ass.

He caught Buck’s eye in the mirror, holding it as he rubbed a thumb on his hole, pressing it inside.

Buck’s mouth dropped open in his reflection, his pink tongue visible. 

He got to watch the face he made when Tommy grabbed hold of his hips with one hand and fed his cock in with the other.

He got to see Tommy’s face when he pushed in, mouth falling open, looking kind of dumb. It made Buck feel tender toward him, watching his brow furrow as he rolled his hips.

He was able to moan louder than he ever got to at the fire station, letting out a long, breathy sound each time Tommy bottomed out, and he got to see how Tommy was staring at him too, eyes glued to the reflection of Tommy’s face.

How he picked up the pace, watching Buck’s reaction, adjusting the angle of his hips until Buck frowned, then cried out, hitting him right there, and Buck was groaning, “Fuck, fuck,” getting a hand on himself, fucking into his fist as Tommy fucked into him.

He got to see when something shifted in Tommy’s face, his eyes, looking almost crazed, and as he hauled Buck up, grasping him around the chest with one arm and using his other hand to turn Buck’s face to his.

He didn’t get to see anything after that, grunting into Tommy’s mouth as he drove into him, covering Buck’s hand and jerking him off, kissing messily until Buck came, moaning, shivering, sighing, and Tommy held him up.

Kept his eyes closed as Tommy came too. 

*

For a while after that Tommy was spooked.

Buck had to uber in on his day off to pick up his car the day after the bar. Tommy had driven him home, and Buck had woken up with his shoes and pants off, tucked under his comforter, although he didn’t remember getting undressed. He didn’t remember even being that drunk, but he had only vague recollections of directing Tommy to his apartment building, and then being led up the stairs and into his quiet apartment, roommates all already in bed. 

They didn’t hook up for their next few shifts, and when they did, Tommy went back to fucking Buck from behind, or jerking each other off where their faces weren’t near each other.

Definitely no more kissing. 

Buck did his best not to take it personally. They’d never done that before while on shift, he didn’t know why he’d expected Tommy to suddenly become a different person.

Buck couldn’t seem to catch his eye, even when they were pressed up against each other, Tommy breathing heavily in his ear.

Buck wished he knew what he’d done wrong, was all. He’d obviously made an ass of himself that night, but he thought they’d had a nice time. The kissing might’ve been too much, but they’d talked, too. He’d made Tommy laugh. Things had felt different.

Regardless of what he’d done, Buck felt different now, too. And not just about Tommy. 

It was gradual, but he started to notice he was having a harder time letting things slide off his shoulders at the 118. Little things kept sticking, like there was flypaper on his back, until he stopped being able to ignore some stuff.

Stopped wanting to ignore it, really. 

He was midway through a forty-eight, sitting in a corner of the huge leather sectional in the entertainment room texting one of his buddies he backpacked through Argentina with, and only vaguely listening in on what the other guys were bullshitting about.

Tommy was on the other end of the couch, and had sat there even though there was plenty of room on the other side where Buck had been sitting. 

Whatever. Buck refused to think about it, or think too much about it.

haha firefightng sounds so sick bro!!! what’s the crazest thing thats happened sofar?

Buck was trying to think of a good story, but he kept typing them out then realizing he was telling one of the sadder ones. People crying, pets dying, all the depressing ones were vying for space in his head, even though he knew Chad wanted something funny. He was drawing a blank. 

He tried typing out the truth, just to see.

My fire captain thinks I’m an idiot, the guys on my crew are assholes, I’m hooking up with this crazy hot guy and I can’t tell if he hates me or what, oh by the way I’m into both guys and girls now, fun huh?

He snorted, shaking his head, and began backspacing, deleting it all to the last letter.

He caught the end of something Parish was saying, “Bet they would’ve liked that.”

Lewis cackled, Montez groaned. “Dude, give it a rest.”

“I’m just saying! I think they were eyeing you, Kinard. Wouldn’t’ve minded a house call, if you know what I mean.”

Buck looked up, trying to catch up. Eventually he pieced together they were talking about the guys on their very last call, in a high rise in WeHo. 

They’d been older, in their sixties. Clearly a couple, and the one guy was having trouble breathing, an allergic reaction to something he’d eaten. They’d both been really scared. 

“Those fairies’ll be thinking of you later, I’ll bet you a million dollars.”

Tommy laughed. Nothing enormous, just a smirk and a little exhale through his nose, but Patrick, the former probie before Buck started, elbowed Tommy and grinned.

Buck looked at the other guys, trying to see if anyone else thought this was fucked up, but they were already moving on.

It wasn’t even the worst thing he’d ever heard them say, certainly not from Parish.

In the recliner across the room, Gerrard was staring placidly at the Angels recap on the big screen. 

Tommy rolled his eyes at something Patrick said and focused on the TV too. He didn’t look over at Buck, but he hadn’t looked over at Buck all shift. 

Eventually Buck realized he was staring at him anyway and dropped his eyes.

It wasn’t like he expected Tommy to say anything. By now he knew Tommy made it a point to stay on Gerrard’s good side. 

Buck knew he could say something, too. He could tell Parish he sounded like an asshole and a bigot and you couldn’t talk like that, that you never knew who was around you. 

He didn’t, though. 

So it wasn’t like he could be that annoyed at Tommy for staying silent. 

It made him feel gross. 

He rolled his, an unconscious reaction he didn’t even really feel himself doing as he went back to looking at his phone. He didn’t expect anyone to see it, but Parish said, “What, you got something to say there, Buckley?”

He frowned, looking up. “No?”

But Lewis was getting in on the act now too. “Did we hurt your feelings there, little buddy?”

Buck clenched his jaw, and finally said, “It’s just not a funny joke, that’s all.”

“Okay, well, tell us a joke, then.”

He felt his heart rate picking up, like it used to when he tried skydiving, or did dirt biking right after high school. The weightless feeling right before the drop.

He sat up against the cushions, squaring his shoulders to face Parish. He opened his mouth, but Gerrard cut him off, apparently deciding now was the time for him to tune back into what his crew was up to. 

“Buckley, you got a problem, you can bring it up with me.”

The room fell silent. 

Buck looked at him, heart rate picking up further. Gerrard raised an eyebrow, not even challenging. A warning, like he was confident Buck would back down, but just wanted to be clear that if he didn’t, he would regret it.

“Do we have a problem?” Gerrard prodded, when Buck didn’t answer. 

The worst part was, he was right.

Buck looked down at his phone. “No, sir.”

He didn’t look up to see the no doubt triumphant looks on Lewis and Parish’s faces, or any of the other guys. 

Not at Tommy’s, either.

Eventually he got up and left the room, no one saying anything as he walked by. 

As he passed Tommy, he saw out of the corner of his vision Tommy’s head jerk up, a tiny movement, not looking all the way up at Buck, but Buck didn’t look down at him anyway. 

His hands were shaking, so he rubbed them against his pants until it passed.

*

He was staring at the water stains on his ceiling, wondering if it was worth the hassle even bothering his landlord, since the guy never did shit anyway. It should be Tony or Steve or even Dave’s responsibility this time, but his roommates never did anything. One time Buck had come home exhausted after a forty-eight-hour shift to find the sink was leaking and had left two inches of water in the bathroom, and no one had called, just lived around it for two days until Buck came home and put in an emergency maintenance request. 

His phone rang and when he glanced down, expecting a telemarketer, he raised his eyebrows. His sister was calling.

He fumbled the phone a little in his haste to answer. “Maddie? Hey, Maddie! How’s it going?”

“Hey, Buck.” Maddie sounded tired, but she always sounded tired. Even though she was the one who’d called him, he could hear on the other end she was in the middle of some task, pots and pans rattling around. “How are you? How’s work?”

“It’s, uh. It’s okay. Halfway through my probationary period.”

“Are you liking it?”

“I love it,” he said honestly, because he did love the actual work itself. He loved the adrenaline, being the person who got there first to help people, staying calm and being able to fix a small part of the worst day of someone else’s life. 

It was everything else that was making him miserable, but he didn’t want to worry Maddie with that. 

“How’s Doug?” he asked, mostly out of habit. He didn’t really give a shit how Doug was doing, but he asked anyway. 

“He’s working,” Maddie said vaguely, and that was it. She never said much about her husband either. “Have you been taking care of yourself? Sleeping enough, eating okay? I know how tough it can be with those swing shifts, you can’t push yourself too hard.”

Buck smiled up at the ceiling. “Yes, Maddie. I’m taking care of myself.”

“Have you been making friends?” She must be going down some checklist in her head, part of a larger checklist for the day, but it was still nice that she was trying.

“Yeah. Kind of. The guys at work aren’t…but it’s fine. Yeah, I’m making friends.”

He could hear the way Maddie went quiet on the other end. “Are you okay?”

He nodded intensely, even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine! Tell me more about your new baby nurses from last time, how’s that one with the weird bedside manner doing?”

Maddie made a surprised noise. “You remember that? She actually turned out to have kind of a knack for patients.”

Buck made a listening noise and tilted his head back on his couch. “Tell me more.” He let his eyes drift closed, listening to his sister talk for a bit. 

*

Tommy was impatient, the next time they hooked up. He practically shoved Buck into the boiler room closet, yanking at his clothes like he was mad at them, until Buck laughed and pushed his hands away. “Dude, I got you.” He got his clothes off as Tommy pulled a folding chair Buck hadn’t seen before from behind a corner. 

When he raised an eyebrow, Tommy shrugged, face blank, but Buck wasn’t dumb, or not that dumb. Tommy must’ve stashed it there.

Tommy sat down, getting his pants undone as Buck finished getting undressed. It was a little awkward, being watched like that as he got down to just his socks, but Tommy’s eyes were intent, darting over his arms and abs and legs and dick until Buck was naked and coming over to settle in his lap.

Tommy brought the lube this time, voice a little gruff as he used it to finger Buck open. “You’ve got another twenty-four hours on shift,” he muttered when Buck pressed his lips together, slightly smug. 

He used a lot, and was thorough with opening Buck up, until Buck got impatient and reached down for Tommy’s cock, getting him slicked up on his own. Tommy bowed his head against Buck’s shoulder, not interfering, watching. 

Both of their mouths fell open as Buck sat down on his cock, gasping into their shared air. Tommy’s hands were tight on his waist, easing him down as Buck panted, wincing at the stretch, wanting more of it.

When he was fully seated, Buck rocked back and forth, mouth open on a silent moan. He circled his hips, glancing at Tommy, whose face is right there. He expected him to be staring down at where his cock was disappearing into Buck, but he was focused on Buck’s face.

It startled Buck for a moment, made him settle fully onto Tommy’s dick again, considering.

Tommy’s mouth was right there, if Buck just moved the right way their lips would brush, but he stopped himself. They’d kissed before, at the bar, but he didn’t know what the rules were anymore when they were on shift. If he went for it and Tommy turned his head, he’d have to get up and walk right out the front door, fully naked, and directly into the sea.

Tommy’s eyes were darting around his face, from his eyes to Buck’s mouth, back and forth, brow creased like he was in pain.

In the end, Tommy was the one that moved the last inch, capturing Buck’s mouth in a deep, pushy kiss. 

He clasped his hands at the back of Buck’s neck and held him still so he could suck on his lower lip.

Buck made a sound against his mouth, straining forward on instinct, chasing after Tommy’s mouth even though he was the one pressing forward, claiming Buck’s mouth and tongue. Buck wrapped his arms around Tommy’s neck, too tight, he must be choking him, but he didn’t want to let any space between them.

Beneath him, Tommy drove his hips up as he dragged Buck’s ass down to meet him, making Buck groan and whine into his mouth. A tingling pressure was building in Buck’s hips, his thighs, his lower back, his balls drawing up. He didn’t want to stop kissing Tommy, but he started bouncing on his cock, chasing the friction, the way his dick hit Buck’s prostate every few strokes, how Tommy felt like he was chasing after him, tongue bossy and rude in his mouth, hands tight enough to bruise on his hips, shoving his cock into him over and over, swallowing down every sound Buck made, no longer telling him to be quiet. 

It could be because the boiler behind them made enough ambient noise to drown out any other sounds, but Buck didn’t care about the why. He let himself get a little louder, moaning cautiously at first. Tommy inhaled through his nose, a hand flying up to clasp the back of Buck’s head, holding him as Tommy ravaged his mouth.

Buck could barely breathe, but it was a background concern; he got even louder, thighs burning as he bounced in Tommy’s lap, letting out a loud sigh every time he sat down, cock filling him completely.

Tommy was the one who finally broke away, clasping Buck’s head between his hands, breathing heavily, pressing their foreheads together. 

Mouth open as he stared at Buck, eyes flicking between his face and down to where his cock was disappearing inside of Buck, every time he rose and dropped his weight onto Tommy. 

At where Buck’s cock was bobbing between them, leaking head whacking against Tommy’s stomach.

The folding chair made a protesting noise. Tommy licked his palm and took Buck’s cock in hand, rubbing his thumb over the head and making Buck squirm, slowing down his rhythm as he bounced. 

Tommy kept a firm grip on Buck’s dick, calluses rough, taking up the same speed that Buck himself preferred, like he’d been taking notes all those times before when he’d told Buck to get himself off.

Buck didn’t want to come by himself. He wanted Tommy to keep fucking him. He wanted to make Tommy come, and to feel it as he got off.

It was too complicated to explain, though. He put his hand over Tommy’s, stilling him, staring into his eyes. He pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, clumsy, started bouncing on him again. Watched the tendons in Tommy’s neck stand out as he grimaced, hunching up into Buck like he couldn’t help it.

Buck made a pleased hissing sound when Tommy took hold of his hips again, driving the speed as he fucked up, pulled Buck down, and Buck took himself in hand, jacking off in time with Tommy pounding into him. 

He came with Tommy’s tongue down his throat, going limp and probably a dead weight as Tommy humped artlessly up into him and finished a few minutes later.

They sat slumped together, Tommy bearing Buck’s weight without complaint, both of their chests heaving as they tried to come back down. 

“Fuck,” Buck sighed out. The word rang out in the boiler room, not because he’d shouted it, just because it was the first word he'd said since they’d come in there.

It seemed to startle Tommy.

He sat back, causing Buck to wobble in his lap. He held his waist, helping Buck steady himself, then urging him up and off, both of them hissing as his cock slipped out.

Buck wasn’t sure what he expected. He had to reach out to slap a hand to the wall, legs unsteady, as he watched Tommy get up, take a couple tries to tie off the condom. He kept his head down as he pulled up his pants, ran a hand through his hair.

When he finally met Buck’s eye, the wariness radiated off of him like a physical force.

“Tommy,” Buck started.

Tommy was standing there, still as a stone. He looked frozen in place. 

“Tommy?”

Buck took a step forward, then another. He bit his lip, trying to think of what to say, to show he could be cool and chill and Tommy didn’t have to look like a spooked horse all over again.

Tommy collided into him, walking him backward against the cabinet again. Buck made a surprised sound, but then Tommy’s mouth was on him, kissing him deeply, so soundly Buck couldn’t breath. 

He was lightheaded when Tommy stepped back.

His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but no words came out. 

He looked just as shaken up as Buck felt. 

Then all at once he turned and opened the door and let himself out, never looking back at Buck. 

*

Gerrard was ragging on Maltenberg. He was one of the paramedics, generally kept to himself. Buck liked him, mostly because he never joined in on making fun of Buck in the beginning and because Buck had heard him calling Lewis and Parish a pair of schmucks to Montez once.

Gerrard was getting in Maltenberg’s face, spittle flying off his mouth. “This is the third goddamn shift you’ve tried to call off. Do you think this is a volunteer gig?”

Maltenberg was staring stonily at the wall directly past Gerrard’s shoulder. “My wife, it’s been tough balancing her doctor’s appointments.” 

“I don’t give a goddamn about your sob story, Maltenberg. I’m writing you up. You call off another shift this calendar year, you’re dismissed, you hear me?”

That was enough to make Maltenberg look Gerrard in the eye. “Sir. It’s May.” 

Gerrard poked him in the chest. “And you talk back to me one more time, that’s another write up and you’ll be down to part time. See how your wife likes it when your benefits are cut.” He shoved him, making Maltenberg take a step back. “Get back to work.”

He looked around at the rest of the 118, all listening in with various levels of stealth. “That goes for the rest of you jagoffs! Get back to work!”

Buck was still thinking of it later, when Tommy was kissing him against the brick wall in the alley. Now that they’d broken that seal, Tommy was going for it all the time, and usually it revved Buck up faster than anything, but he was distracted.

He couldn’t stop thinking of Maltenberg’s face when Gerrard had threatened his wife’s insurance.

He leaned back, and Tommy dragged his mouth down to kiss at Buck’s neck. “Can he even do that?”

Tommy hummed against his skin, the pleasant vibration making Buck roll his shoulders, but he couldn’t focus on it. 

“When he was talking about taking Maltenberg down to part time, would he really lose his insurance?”

Tommy pulled back, frowning at him. “What? No, I don’t know. He just gets like that when he’s mad, he likes to read guys the riot act to make a point. It’s no big deal.”

It seemed like a big deal to Maltenberg, being yelled at like that in front of the whole 118. It felt like a big deal, when you were the focus of Gerrard’s fury.

“Why does everyone let him talk like that?” Buck asked.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s an asshole. Has anyone ever stood up to him?”

“Not really.”

Buck narrowed his eyes, and asked, somewhat unfairly, but he suddenly really needed to know, “Have you ever stood up to him?”

Tommy snorted. “Uh, no, that’s why I still have my job.” After a slight hesitation, he cupped Buck’s neck. That was new too, and Buck was too irritated to even enjoy it. “It’s not a big deal. You just need to know how to handle these old school guys. Blend in. You don’t want to stand out in jobs like this.”

Buck was starting to realize he didn’t have it in him, what it took to blend in with people like Gerrard, or Lewis, or Parish. He didn’t know what that meant for him, at the 118, or as a firefighter in general. He’d need to think on it some more.

He knew what it meant for him right now, though. 

Buck disentangled his uniform shirt from Tommy’s hands, stepping back. “You know what, I’m gonna head back in.”

“What?”

He’d always thought of Tommy as so much older than him.

Right now he looked young, or Buck thought for the first time that he wasn’t that much older, standing with his arms hanging limply at his sides, eyes dark with confusion.

Buck turned and went back in through the rear door, hearing Tommy come in after him. 

“Buckley.”

Buck kept walking, through the hallway, no specific destination in mind, but not wanting to slow down.

“Buck,” Tommy whisper-yelled, after him. 

He finally stopped when they stepped in between the fire truck and the ambulance, whirling around and surprising Tommy, who nearly walked right into him. 

He glanced around them, then stepped closer. “Buck, what is this about?” He lowered his voice even further. “Did I do something?”

“No, that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

A scowl was working its way across Tommy’s face, heavy brow going low. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s your problem, Buck?”

Buck crossed his arms peevishly. “Sorry, I forgot you only like my mouth when I’m sucking you off.” He knew he was being a brat, and they could probably talk about this like adults, but it was like something was bubbling up in him, and now that he was letting himself speak, he couldn’t bite things back like he could a few months ago.

“Lower your voice,” Tommy muttered tersely, looking wildly over his shoulder at the empty loading bay around them. They were covered by the truck, and everyone else was off catching some sleep or watching TV, but he was still so jumpy, like they were hiding from the cops.

Buck’s mouth twisted. “Oh, okay. Sorry. I just get confused by the rules, you know? When I can be loud, when I have to be quiet, when you’re allowed to look at me, when you pretend like I don’t exist. I’ll try harder.” The derisiveness was undercut by the way his voice cracked on the last word. He cleared his throat, annoyed at himself. 

“Watch yourself,” Tommy said, voice low, almost dangerous. 

Buck rolled his eyes, pretending like he didn’t care that Tommy’s face had gone smooth as stone. He’d never seen Tommy truly angry before, and it made Buck’s palms go slick. “You’re just afraid,” he said, working to keep his voice steady, and not too loud — he didn’t really want someone to overhear them fighting, either. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The infuriating part was, Tommy was right. Buck didn’t know. Buck didn’t know anything about Tommy, which was by Tommy’s own design. He’d never wanted Buck to know him.

“You’re afraid of taking any kind of risk.”

“I was taking a risk with you,” Tommy said, whispering really, barely audible. Still so terrified of getting caught. “I am.”

Buck was starting to deflate. “I don’t get why you even started it. You made the first move.” He frowned, shaking his head. “Why did you do that?”

“Buck.”

Before Tommy could say anything else, the alarm went off. Perfect timing, for once.

Buck pushed past him, ignoring Tommy trying to grab his arm. 

He was the one to walk away for once, leaving Tommy standing behind him.

*

Tommy tried to catch him to talk a few times, but it was easy enough to brush him off when Tommy was so resistant to making a scene. Soon, he stopped, and by the end of shift, he’d seemed to give up entirely.

So this was just the way it was going to be, Buck told himself. Tommy would go back to ignoring him, and Buck could focus on being the best firefighter he could be.

If he could even be that kind of firefighter under Gerrard. 

He spent his three days off trying to research if he was even able to request a transfer to another firehouse during his probationary period. He might have to stick it out for a few more months.

He refused to let Gerrard run him off this job though, as he stubbornly clicked though links for the LA City website and the LAFD sub-pages. That guy was old; Buck could outlast him. He would outlast him. 

Gerrard wasn’t the future of the LAFD. Buck was going to make sure of it.

He was stewing in that righteous, nonspecific fury when there was a knock on the apartment door, and he sat up, surprised.

That surprise grew to startled shock when he opened it and Tommy was standing there. 

He hadn’t even heard the front buzzer. 

Tommy apparently saw Buck’s confusion. “Someone was coming in, so I walked in with them.” He shrugged. “Sorry. Probably should’ve buzzed up.”

Seeing Tommy in street clothes was disorienting, like seeing your hot history teacher in the grocery store wearing sweats and holding up two tomatoes to compare side by side (Buck hoped Mr. Johnson was doing well, wherever he was). 

Even his street clothes didn’t look all that comfortable, like even off-duty Tommy needed to feel put together and in control. He had on a pair of dark jeans that made his ass look incredible but also seemed too tight to lounge in, which was how Buck chose his own pants on his days off. Tommy’s henley pulled tight across his shoulders, the fabric so crisp it almost looked like it had been ironed. 

The image of Tommy carefully ironing a cotton-blend t-shirt before slipping it on to come over here was so nerdy it made a frisson of tenderness unfurl in his chest against his will. 

Which was irritating, because the last thing he needed was to forget how hurt he had felt the other day, and stumble into forgiving Tommy when he hadn’t even apologized, or said anything yet. 

Buck raised his eyebrows when all Tommy seemed to have planned for was coming over here and knocking on the door. He still had a good poker face, but at least by now Buck could read the slight discomfort at the corner of Tommy’s mouth. 

“Hey?” he said, crossing his arms. 

Tommy cleared his throat. “Hey, Buckley.” He coughed again. “Evan. How are you?”

Despite himself, Buck felt vaguely fascinated at the novelty of a visibly unnerved Tommy.

“I’m good?” Tommy just nodded, so Buck added, “Are you…good?”

“I’m fine, yeah.” 

“You want to…come in?”

Tommy did want to come in. He wandered in behind Buck, glancing around as he went to stand by the window like he was taking in every detail. “I didn’t get that good of a look the other day.”

The last thing Buck wanted to think about was his birthday drinks at the bar. It was just another reminder of how Buck had only been seeing what he wanted to see.

They stood in silence for a while, and Buck was about to ask what he was even doing here, when Tommy said, out of nowhere, “Gerrard’s retiring.”

It Buck was completely knocked off his mental track. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah. Heard it from someone I trust. No official announcement yet.”

“Wow. That’s…wow. How?”

“He was, I’m told, strongly encouraged to retire, if he still wanted his pension.” Buck frowned, feeling like it was too good to be true. He honestly thought Gerrard would’ve died in that firehouse, if given the option. 

Tommy looked at him, then away. Very casually, he added, “Also someone made an official complaint.”

“A complaint? Who made the complaint?”

Tommy kept his eyes out the window, while Buck came over to lean against the windowsill, studying Tommy’s profile.

“Wait, you did?”

Tommy was quick to shake his head. “Not just me, a few of the guys had been talking. Maltenberg, Montez. I should’ve done it last year when Gerrard — anyway, it doesn’t matter.” Buck wondered what had happened last year, before he’d joined the 118, but Tommy was moving on. “There’s no way to know if it even made a difference, a couple of emails.”

But it didn’t hurt, Buck was certain. 

He wanted to say more, but Tommy looked uncomfortable enough, so Buck let him be.

“Good riddance,” he said with feeling, instead.

“Tell me about it.”

They stood in silence for a bit, Buck trying to figure out what this meant for the 118. Maybe they’d even get a woman or two on their crew now. Things might be turning around.

They stared out the window at the LA lights, sky dark but beginning to lighten up around the edges. Someone was laying on their car horn out front.

“Did you know I used to be a pilot?” 

Buck shook his head. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Yeah, in the army.” 

He’d known Tommy was in the army, but just from context, from listening in on the other guys talking between calls. Tommy had certainly never mentioned being a pilot (they had pilots in the army?). He’d never volunteered anything about himself to Buck, really. 

Buck had assumed it was because he didn’t care enough about Buck to tell him anything. He was starting to think Tommy was just afraid of a lot of things.

He was still looking away, out the window. “I miss flying.”

He looked down at the windowsill, at where Tommy was picking at the chipping paint, fingers twitching and restless. Buck put his hand on the sill next to his, and watched Tommy’s hands still.

“I almost took flying lessons in Belize once.”

Tommy glanced at him. “You’ve been to Belize?”

“Summer after high school.” Maybe Tommy didn’t know too much about him either. Had Buck been holding himself back, too?

He wondered if Tommy wanted to know Buck. If he would give Buck the chance.

Buck thought he might be willing to give Tommy the chance, if he’d let him now. For real. 

Like he could track his thoughts, Tommy murmured, “Buck,” with feeling. There was a note of yearning, barely there, unless you knew what to listen for. He kept looking out the window like it was a lifeline. “I was such an asshole.”

Buck sighed. “Yeah.”

Tommy shifted on his feet, the slight movement bringing their shoulders in contact, a brush that could’ve been an accident. Buck inhaled and didn’t let it out, gone perfectly still. Beside him, he could feel how Tommy was holding himself stiffly too, but that was also his normal posture. He stood like someone who didn’t know how to relax.

After a long moment though, he felt Tommy let out a deep breath. His shoulders softened incrementally, and he leaned, deliberately, into Buck. 

A smile began working itself across Buck’s face, and he couldn’t seem to fight it off.

He stopped trying. Beside him, he saw Tommy glance at him, and when Buck looked over, Tommy cleared his throat, another sign of nerves. 

Buck kept his gaze and leaned, returned the pressure against Tommy’s shoulder with his.

Hesitantly, Tommy pressed his lips together into his own, more cautious smile.  

Buck nudged him again, and then they both turned back to the window.

They leaned against each other, looking out as the sun rose over LA.

Distantly, Buck heard a fire truck siren blaring. 

*