"She was so used to wearing her mind in a corset
that she felt it no more than the silk undergarment
that she took off only at night...."
-Karolina Pavlova, A Double Life
@cecilyv and I are really just writing smut at this point. Eventually I assume it'll acquire a modicum of plot to bind it together?
By the third hookup, he tells the kid his name is Tommy; learns Firehouse is actually Evan, which he feels much more ok about saying out loud.
He also learns the kid had no gag reflex and he’d make a joke about learning to hold his breath in training to be a firefighter but — he’s distracted.
“Holy shit, Evan,” he breathes, slides his hands in the over sculpted hair before cupping the back of his neck.
Evan blinks up at him, slides back, coughs discreetly into his fist before running the tip of his tongue along the head of Tommy’s cock.
Tommy tightens his hand and Evan stares into his eyes as he slides back down.
Reaches a hand up, puts it over Tommy's on the back of his neck and pushes until Tommy takes the hint and holds him in place while he fucks into his mouth.
Comes like it's being punched out of him, and Evan gags on it, coughing when Tommy manages to regain enough coordination to let go of his neck and let Evan pull back. He looks so smug, so satisfied with spit running down his chin that Tommy doesn't even bother to apologize.
Pulls him up off his knees, wiping at Evan's face. "What do you want?"
Kisses him when Evan doesn't say anything immediately, wishes he could taste himself in Evan's mouth, but he's not quite that stupid with a guy he met on grindr.
Bites at Evan's lip, cups his ass and pulls Evan up against him. "What do you want?"
it's late, this is the first time I've looked at tumblr all day, so no idea who's been tagged - but @iboatedhere, @iphyslitterator, @irispurpurea, and @dadvans
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@liminalmemories21 and I are still noodling away at this. Don't look now, but it's just more smut.
One of his neighbors threw parties on the roof — they generally ended at a reasonable time, so no one turned him in. The side benefit was the tables and chairs he left up there so he didn’t have to keep dragging them up the stairs.
Tommy dropped into one heavily when the guy pushed him back.
“We have to make this quick,” he says, as he climbs onto Tommy’s lap, long legs draped over his and his toes actually touch the ground.
“Before your boss finds out you absconded with the truck?”
The guy nods, reaching for the fly of Tommy’s jeans, popping the buttons expertly with one hand. Moments later, his palm is hot against Tommy, has to close his eyes as those long fingers wrap around him.
The hand disappears for a second and Tommy opens is his eyes and what escapes his throat is definitely not a whine. He watches as the guy pulls his cock out, wraps his hand around them both.
Tommy stares.
Truth in advertising.
He’d say he has nobody to blame but himself for being so distracted that he doesn’t hear the roof door open, or the sound of someone walking across the roof. But, sue him, he’s got maybe the hottest guy he’s ever seen in his lap, doing his damndest to make Tommy’s brains leak out his dick.
Freezes when he hears someone clear their throat loudly behind him. And then, “Firefighter Buckley!”
Tagging, erm, whomever wants to play? @geddyqueer @leashybebes @screamlet @alchemistc
Ready for a unique connection? Meet your dream AI girlfriend who understands you, shares your interests, and is always there for intimate conversations. No judgment, just pure companionship!
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Steamy chats and intimate moments, available 24/7
💝
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✨
100% private & secure - what happens here, stays here
Where this started is not... exactly where this went.
But with a prompt like that and the show giving me an OT3 of pretty people who've slept together? I will... bug @liminalmemories21 into helping me write it?
wip. buck/tommy/abby
At first Evan acts like he’s not there, like they’ve never touched, like he doesn’t know exactly what that slight whine in the back of his throat is. Abby’s back is on the bed, Evan tugging her pants off, her shirt open and his mouth on her throat.
She looks beautiful, flushed, black lace bra that she likes to wear when she goes out. She prepared for this.
Watches him and Abby, and thinks Abby's good for him - steadies him, gives him someone to be steady for. He's less sure that Evan is good for Abby. He looks at her like she hung the moon - also looks at her like she's the hottest woman he's ever seen, which has to be flattering.
But Abby needs another thing to be responsible for like she needs a hole in her head.
He fidgets awkwardly at the end of the bed for a minute before he thinks, fuck it. They asked him here, and the broad expanse of Evan’s back is too tempting.
Runs a firm hand up Evan's back. Feels him startle, and then lean into it. Shifts closer, kisses Evan's neck, and Evan turns his head blindly, looking for Tommy's kiss -- and who is he to deny him?
Abby makes an appreciative noise, shifts back up against the pillows to watch them. Evan's kiss is hungry and messy -- more aggressive than the way he'd kissed Abby. Tommy tries not to compare in his head, but focus on the hard press of his lips.
There's a minute, two, then he pulls away slightly, panting. Rest his forehead on Evan's. Watches out of the corner of his eye as Abby slides her leg higher up Evan's thigh - a soft reminder that she's there - and he turns his head away from Tommy, braces himself over Abby, panting.
Fun thing about me - if you throw me a writing prompt there's better than even odds I'll respond.
If you're @cecilyv and you throw me a writing prompt I will absolutely respond, because I will write just about anything she tells me to.
Which brings us to this, apparently inspired by this.
A threesome with his ex-fiance was not on his 2018 bingo card.
Doesn't think there's a bingo card in existence that would have included that after the way he and Abby broke up.
It had gone about like expected. Abby's not a yeller, but she'd yelled. He'd deserved it. He'd left. She'd opened the door again just so she could slam it behind him.
He knows he hurt her. Betrayed her.
Is not expecting the text he gets six months later that says / I met a guy /
Stares at it, no idea what she expects him to say in response to that. Good? I'm glad?
While he's waiting he gets / he's really good in bed /
Okay. Thanks for that. Their sex life had been ... Well maybe the less said about it the better. But, he'd made sure she always came, even if he didn't.
/ I'd like you to meet him /
Which, what the fuck?
Finally texts back / what? /
/ I think you'd like him / .... / he seems like your type /
How would she even know? He barely knows what his type is.
tagging @rcmclachlan, @screamlet, @dadvans, and @hereghostslive
Evan answers the door. They stare at each other, neither moving, and hears Abby call out from the kitchen. He can feel Evan's eyes on him, hot and he puts a hand on the door -- "You gonna let me in, Evan?"
Evan swallows, and Tommy hears the innuendo but doesn't pull it back.
It takes Abby approximately two minutes to clock that they know each other, and another fifteen to figure out how.
She sits back, staring. "Seriously?" Looks at Tommy. "Of all the firefighters in LA, you had to pick this one?"
i do think “tommy was a legal adult when it became legal for gay people to have sex in the privacy of their own homes in all fifty states via supreme court decision which can be over turned at any time” would have been a better benchmark for the josh speech than glee but what do i know i’m just a person who isn’t interested in sucking ryan murphy’s dick
@liminalmemories21 tagged me in this and I just KNOW she knew I was going to (A) fall down like, a zillion rabbit holes, (B) sit there for a while trying to think of a story/author that was one the tip of my tongue but failing, and (C) then get upset again because, y'all, the internet is NOT FOREVER. Of course there are things this makes me happy about, but in this instance.
Okay, this is no way all of them. I am re-reader. I reread. I have been in fandom for over 30 years. I retain the right to post again later with more of these because I want my friends to get the pleasure of reading these for the first time or the thousandth time -- it's all the same.
Also some of these are sad. Some are happy. I've found that I go to all them for comfort, depending on the day.
freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose by synecdochic (SGA, Rodney/John).
"There is a gravestone in Arlington National Cemetery. It sits watch over an empty grave, and there is a vine with small blue flowers, one the gardeners can't identify from any book, twining up its side."
I know I've mentioned it before, but this fic lives rent free in my brain and it's sad, and lovely, and sad, and thought provoking and lovely and just read it.
This is how it works by Lim
A connected rec: Lim, not my lim but another fandom Lim, made this video for/about freedom's just another word. I'm so glad it exists on the internet still. Scroll down in the link and you might have to hit play a few times to get it to load, but it's worth it. This is the vid that made me realize the power of vids AND introduced me to Regina Spektor, so, thank you lim.
Telegraph Avenue by hackthis (the O.C. -- Seth/OMC, Seth/Ryan)
I am, in fact, sending you to the wilds of livejournal because hackthis left fandom (mumbles under her breadth) years ago and none of her stuff exists on ao3 (if it does, please let me know because that would be amazing). Honestly, I rec all her stuff -- the generation kill, the inception, freaking neville longbottom/theodore nott -- read it all, even if it's on livejournal.
Pre-Existing Condition by Helenish (Die Hard, Matt Farrell/John McClane)
Okay, okay, bear with me. I had an incredibly difficult time figuring out which of Helenish's stories to link, but I went with this one because it's a showcase of -- I will follow this author anywhere and love it. I have read this story so many times. In Helenish, I trust and that's going to be a running theme here. Come for this one, stay for the Inception, SGA, Teen Wolf, and hockey rpf, if that's your bag. Apparently, helenish was my very first bookmark on ao3 which totally tracks.
Don't You Shake Alone by Dira Sudis (Generation Kill, Brad/Nate)
Nate looked exactly like Brad always pictured him: exhausted in the full life-in-a-combat-zone sense of the word.
Nate has a baby and Brad shows up. I have read this oh, like, at least a dozen times. It hits every single one of my buttons.
Steinway!verse by toomuchplor (Inception, Arthur/Eames)
Being a freshman piano performance major at a prestigious New England conservatory is difficult enough without landing the school's star baritone as your singer, and inevitably, your hopeless crush.
Written by the Victors by Cesperanza (SGA)
Caroll, Franklin R. Atlantis Revisited. New York and London, Routledge, 2011.
Chapman, Denise. Several Kinds of Genius: The Life of Rodney McKay. NY: Harper Perennial, 2015.
Croft, Rosalind. City of Spires: A Memoir. Toronto: The Mercury Press, 2009.
Dugan, Paul. A Political History of Atlantis. Oxford: OUP, 2012.
This changed fandom and me, and go read it, if you haven't. Also, Lim recced With six you get eggroll which was, uh, maybe why I finally watched Due South.
Behind closed doors: collected oral histories of queer community in New York, 1930-1945. doi 10.1999/journal.amhistqstud.32557038 by wobblyheadeddollcaper (Captain America, Bucky/Steve)
Steve Rogers, supersoldier and inept historian, confronts the absence of evidence.
Those who know me, know why.
Drastically Redefining Protocol by rageprufrock (Merlin, Arthur/Merlin)
Honestly, another author I follow to the ends of the earth. I know Lim recced it to, so hopefully you go read it.
Noblesse Oblige by Alethia (Generation Kill, Brad/Nate)
This was not a normal day. This day existed to prove that hell was real and it came with musical accompaniment by will.i.am. On this day, Steve figured out how to get him out of the office and torment him at the same time by sending him to the godforsaken DNC where it was all 'we shall overcome,' oh-happy-day bullshit.
Which merely justified Brad's hatred of the world and everyone in it.
With a side of Worthy of Trust and Confidence because her Brad voice is just THAT GOOD.
I don't see how there won't be a second set of these at some point.
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Steamy chats and intimate moments, available 24/7
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Okay, following on from @black-quadrant's post yesterday about comfort fandoms - what are your old school comfort fics? The ones from fandoms that haven't been active in yeeeaaars, but you've read so many times you can practically quote them.
With Six You Get Eggroll by @cesperanza (Due South - Fraser/Ray K - post series)
Ray burst out laughing. "Benny! You've developed a sense of humor!"
"Yes, Ray." Fraser lowered the gun and showed him an amused look. "Six immaculate conceptions will do that to you."
Hide of a Life War by @etharei (Teen Wolf - Derek/Stiles)
“We have received confirmation that there is a hostage situation in progress at a warehouse compound two hours out of Los Angeles, following a multiple-vehicle pileup on Highway 101 this morning...”
The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.
If Kirk was a maths genius, and never took Pike up on the dare to do better, but still managed to get to Starfleet? This is what that would look like.
Domestic-verse by @gyzym (Inception - Arthur/Eames)
People you kiss in an airport baggage claim and then don't talk to for thirteen months shouldn't be able to exist, let alone make your chest do the things Arthur's chest is doing. There are rules.
The Age of Aquarius by @cesperanza (West Wing - Josh/Donna)
"You know," Toby said, pulling a cigar out of his inside coat pocket and regarding it thoughtfully, "I never found your relationship with Donna particularly baffling. I just figured you ran on sexual frustration like the rest of us."
Drastically Redefining Protocol by @rageprufrock (Merlin - Merlin/Arthur - AU)
In which Prince Arthur meets Merlin and all hell promptly breaks loose.
Don't You Shake Alone by @dsudis (Generation Kill - Nate/Brad)
Nate looked exactly like Brad always pictured him: exhausted in the full life-in-a-combat-zone sense of the word.
Retrograde by LtLJ (Stargate Atlantis - mostly Gen - eventually McKay/Shepard)
The Atlantis expedition has been lost for three years. SG-1 goes to find them, and arrives just a little too late.
Somewhere I Have Never Traveled by @seperis (Smallville - Clark/Lex)
Clark decides on a change of lifestyle. Lex decides on a change in the status quo. And the world's doomed.
Lust over Pendle-verse by AJ Hall (Harry Potter - Draco/Neville - yes, I know JKR is trash, the fic is still excellent)
Lust Over Pendle is a comedy of manners set in the Golden Age detective thriller genre, and is presumed to take place after the end of the seventh Harry Potter book, and, therefore, after the fall of Voldemort.
open tag, but specifically calling out some people I know have been around fandom for a while @alchemistc, @dadvans, @walkinginland, @freneticfloetry, @cecilyv, @sloganeer, @screamlet, @irispurpurea, @rcmclachlan, and @hereghostslive
This week has been a rough return to the office, because one of our staffers left for an amazing opportunity and we're so happy for her and we're drowning and oh god.
🎧 Last Song:
On purpose? I was listening to a 90s alternative mixtape (ahem, playlist) and apparently the last song was Rage's Killing in the Name.
In the car on the radio? Regulate, Warren G and Nate Dogg (which is, funnily enough, one of the first cassette singles I ever bought. The other? Is, uh, John Michael Montgomery (this juxtaposition is totally how you know I'm from the south without me ever saying I'm from the south).
🖍️ Favorite Color: blue-purples
📚 Last Book:
Read in physical form: I'm working my way through two books: Index, A history of the by Dennis Duncan and Memory Palace by Nate Dimeo. The last book I finished was Saving Yellowstone by Megan Kate Nelson.
🎥 Last Movie: Conclave.
📺 Last TV-Show: Silo.
🍜 Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Spicy.
💕 Relationship Status: Celebrated 21 years since our first date last year, which is just impossible to wrap my mind around.
🌐 Last Thing I Googled: I did a deep dive on Stanley Kubrick because I was listening to a podcast about Eyes Wide Shut.
💓 Current Obsession: I actually am... currently obsession free? But that's mostly because I'm busy at work and with volunteer stuff. And sportsball. Oh, I guess I'm obsessing over the baseball offseason (the dodgers just print money, I guess) and the shit year my basketball team is having.
🔮 Looking Forward To: probably won't be able to do my plans for next weekend, so I'm going to look forward to travelling for sportsball in February.
tagged by @rcmclachlan and belatedly responding (now that I've actually written something - inspired by @screamlet's academic AU drabble from yesterday - @cecilyv are dusting off an old forgotten idea.
The thing is, LA has always felt like home to him. More than the salt-stained shingled house he’d grown up in. More than the sweltering heat of Fort Bliss, or the dusty desert heat of Camp Taji, where he’d theoretically learned how to be a man (at least according to his father and every drill sergeant he’s ever had). Definitely more than the godforsaken utility apartment in Reno he’s lived in for the last seven years. He’d been 27 when he landed in LA the first time, and it had felt like the first place he’d ever chosen for himself. The first place where he found people he trusted enough to really be himself around - the first place he’d ever trusted himself enough to be himself. So even though he’s here for a conference he can barely afford, and with the prospect of a panel he’s hated since he was volentold for it looming on the horizon, when the plane touches down at LAX he thinks, “Hi honey, I’m home.”
not tagging anyone at this point, but if you want to play, please do not let me stop you.
Tommy’s listened to a few of Buck’s podcasts, “they’re not bad, really-“ and he ignores Buck’s sullen, “thanks?” because he has a point, “you could at least footnote your stories?”
He should have expected buck’s indignant, “Tommy it’s an oral tradition!”
“Sure, okay, but you have a fucking webpage? I know Bobby made you make one; you should use it.”
And that’s how Tommy starts writing passive aggressive ( and aggressive aggressive) footnotes based on buck’s abysmal handwritten notes for each episode.
“I do not have time for this,” he says when they talk one night.
“Ok? I didn’t ask you to do it?”
Tommy frowns over his keyboard and goes back to typing.
Listen I know @cecilyv and @liminalmemories21 are slow cooking an absolute masterpiece of a Mummy AU that I am going to eat like a gourmet meal, but I just watched The Mummy again and spent the whole time thinking about this, so here have a completely different take:
"No, Maddie, absolutely not. Do you remember what happened last time? There were boils, Maddie. Boils. On this face? Never again."
Maddie mumbles something that Buck can't quite parse but one word sounds vaguely like a name he's spent seven years trying to forget, and it's only when Chim pops up behind her like the freakiest Jack-in-the-box he's ever seen that things kind of become inevitable. "They took Jee, Buck."
---
It's not that he doesn't love this shit. He does. He loves it despite the fact that it's a hand me down interest from parents he's still struggling to have any sort of relationship with. He loves it despite the literal boils this particular special interest have caused him. He loves it despite the fact that he's pretty sure he met the love of his life on one of Maddie's little expeditions, and then the guy had disappeared into the wind. Not before a mind-blowing celebratory night and the most tender forehead kiss he's ever experienced (and he's including Maddie, here, so that really should say something) with the hazy dawn light filtering into Buck's hotel room.
He'd thought he was getting breakfast in bed. A coffee, at least.
Instead he'd been ghosted.
Which is incredibly ironic, considering.
The point is. The point is coming back home with a bunch of gold and maybe a broken heart hadn't killed his enthusiasm for digging into this stuff, following the research trails until every literal and metaphorical stone was turned. He loves it.
He would absolutely not be here if this were anything but family.
"Oh good, you made it," says a familiar voice from somewhere to his left, and Buck tries to give Maddie the evil eye, but she's too busy grinning at her husband.
Buck twists just enough to get a good look at the cleft before he's stomping his way back towards his suite.
---
Tommy is, of course, flying the fucking plane that's going to get them where they need to go.
Buck will admit he'd done a deep dive into piloting during one of his lamer spirals. He knows all sorts of facts about every helicopter known to man and quite a few of the planes.
"We're going to crash," Buck says, when the engine to his left makes another sputtering noise and then starts blowing smoke behind them.
Tommy frowns. "We're not going to crash," he mutters back, and then tips his chin, calls out loudly over his shoulder. "Maddie, Howie, you two strapped in?"
Buck isn't a fan of the tenor of his voice.
Who is he fucking kidding? He's a huge fan of that voice. He's been hearing it moan his name in his dreams for more than half a decade. Any version of that voice is something Buck wants to latch onto and never let go.
"We're not going to crash," Tommy repeats, and glances over at Buck like he's trying to drink in the sight of him.
---
They manage to salvage a good two-thirds of the water, two of Bucks suitcases ("You don't pack light, do you?" Tommy had asked, getting the bag that was almost entirely books over his shoulder like it weighed next to nothing. "Sorry my baggage is such an inconvenience." hadn't been his wittiest rejoinder of all time but it had made Tommy flush an interesting shade of purple.) and about twelve guns from the wreckage.
"Guns are notoriously not great at stopping ghosts."
Tommy glowers and continues cleaning his gun. In the firelight, his eyes have taken on a shade of blue that Buck absolutely isn't trying to memorize.
"Good thing human men took your niece, then, huh?"
"I wouldn't say that was great, no."
Chim whispers something to Maddie that makes her grin, and Buck scowls at them both.
---
"I'm so goddamn tired of boils, Maddie!"
"It's - you look fine. We just have to send Billy back where he came from and they'll clear right up. Just like last time."
"And if they don't? Your brother's going to die loveless and alone because no one's gonna want to kiss a face full of boils!"
Tommy hums to his left, shuffles, checks his watch, which definitely got broken in the crash. Buck is absolutely not thinking about the full-on make out they'd had in the middle of a graveyard full of fucking murderous ghosts while the boils were still definitely there on his face.
---
Apparently he should have brought a gun to a ghost fight, he thinks, when he glances down and catches sight of the red stain steadily growing on his shirt.
"Evan!"
Maddie's doing her chant thing over by the dias, and Jee's safely tucked in Chim's arms, and -
"Tommy," Buck manages, when Tommy catches him mid-fall and leans him back against the side of a truly hideous mausoleum.
"Hey. Evan, hey. You're - Maddie's just gotta finish up a few more lines and then you'll be good, okay? No more boils. You'll get thousands more kisses from however many people you like, alright?" He sounds a little panicked. Which is fair, considering. Ghost bullets fucking hurt.
"God, you're an idiot," Buck manages between wheezes. Things are - things are looking a little blurry around the edges. Buck lowers himself to a sit and sinks hands into the earth beneath him. "I'm gonna die still in love with the stupidest man who ever lived."
"You're not going to die," Tommy says, and he's eye level now, pressing at the spot where Buck's life is leaking out of him. Blue eyes, cleft chin, that stupid curl that never failed to release itself to settle over his forehead.
"Perfect time to completely miss the point," Buck manages through clenched teeth, and when Tommy's eyes catch his they look - terrified.
He's expecting it, maybe, a little, because he's being a little shit and that had always driven Tommy a little wild. Still. The press of lips against his is nice, and the tongue and teeth are even better, right up until he can't hold in the cough any longer and spits up blood right into Tommy's mouth.
"You're not gonna die," Tommy says, desperate now, as the world starts to tilt on its axis, and Buck curls a hand over Tommy's forearm and smiles.
---
Death isn't great. Kinda boring, actually. He's been here for five minutes or maybe an eternity when things start to go a little wonky. The endless nothing is either shrinking or expanding and Buck can't quite figure out if it's black or white or maybe just nothing and then it's shattering and shaking and gone.
---
"Ow," Buck says, and blinks open his eyes to find blue ones staring back.
They stay like that for a moment.
"So, you're O for two," Buck says, and Tommy immediately starts crying.
---
Tommy shifts a hand over Buck's jawline, calluses catching on a bit of scar tissue the boils left behind this time. Apparently they only clear up completely if you're still alive when the curse is broken.
"So there's a job," Tommy says, grooves on his face deepening, leg shifting restlessly over top of Buck's thigh. It's a trick - he knows it is, but he's still coming down off the high and Tommy's smile could probably make him do anything even if he hadn't just given Buck a Top Ten orgasm.
"No mummies. No ghosts. I swear to god Tommy if it's anything haunted I'm going to get those thousands of kisses somewhere else."
Tommy's grin is a little smug for his liking. "Have you ever heard of a Dybbuk box?"
Against his better judgement, Buck immediately begins spewing every bit of knowledge he's ever retained about them.
To be at home in fragments (911: Lonestar, TK/Carlos)
tumblr ficlets
April
The Knave of Clubs .... swears he'll take her part (911: Lonestar, TK, Carlos, Art Thief!AU, aka Knave IV)
There’s a way that panic can make you feel nauseous, and he has to swallow hard before he can get the words out. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
Trudie gives him an approving smile, like a teacher with a student who’s given the right answer. “You’re going to help me steal a statue.”
(I'm in love) but i do not speak the language (911, Buck/Tommy, aka @cecilyv and I start down a rabbit hole from which we have not yet emerged)
What he does tell Maddie (and Chim) is that he’s never going to push Evan; that whatever this turns out to be, it’s between the two of them.
She laughs in his face and Chim chuckles, and Tommy wonders what he really got himself into.
May
Awful quiet here since love fell asleep (911, Buck/Tommy)
A Buck/Tommy break up/make up fic that back in May @cecilyv thought no one was asking for. And then the show said, hold my beer. Our take was better.
Things don’t always work out, the first time around.
Baggage that goes with mine (911, Buck/Tommy, What Binds the Fabric Together I)
Our take on a Tommy Begins episode.
June
I'll cover you (911, Buck/Tommy, What Binds the Fabric Together II)
Gerrard comes back. The 118 tries to adjust and Buck and Tommy accidently acquire a dog.
Leave the past behind (911, Buck/Tommy, What Binds the Fabric Together III)
A funeral and too many text messages. Tommy’s dad dies and everyone...adjusts.
July
Your love is better than ice cream (911, Buck/Tommy)
An alternative meet-cute, where-in Tommy doesn’t know the 118 and decides Buck is worth it anyway. Buck is confused but figures some things out.
I hear there are great restaurants out west (911, Buck/Tommy, What Binds the Fabric Together IV)
Tommy and Buck and an open road. AKA Roadtrip fic.
August
Atlas (bound) (911, Buck/Tommy)
A behind the scenes look at how you speedrun a relationship, and what happens when the pieces of yourself that you try to hide, embarrassed and afraid, come to the surface.
Tags: The Buckley siblings have bad parents
What's with today, today? (911, Buck/Tommy)
The 118 is a library and Buck is the children’s librarian; Tommy’s the man behind on Stuffie Day at the local fire station. No stuffed animals were harmed in the writing of this fic.
September
Inside, You've Got Heaven and Earth (911, Buck/Tommy)
Tommy and Buck’s world changes in an instant. How do they recover and find their way back home?
We all want to break Tommy (at least a little), right? There is a car accident discussed herein. We’d started this months ago, but came back to it after @alchemistc asked, “What kind of patient is Tommy Kinard?” and we realized we still had a lot to say. Recovery is a personal experience and this is not intended to be medically accurate by any stretch of the imagination. So much hand-waving.
Tumblr mini-fics (911, Buck/Tommy)
what it says on the package
October
Star Baker (911, Buck/Tommy)
Tommy’s down bad for every version of Buck.
Absolutely no baked goods are made in the course of this fic.
Just a bit outside (911, Buck/Tommy)
Who wants to see Tommy in baseball pants?
@cecilyv wrote anything about actual baseball, I contributed bad baseball sex puns. This is the usual division of labor.
Napoleon's Battle Plan (911, Buck/Tommy)
First you show up, then you see what happens. Tommy reevaluates his priorities, one interaction at a time. AKA 5+1 Tommy and the 118 kids(fic).
November
In a Yellow Wood (911, Buck/Tommy)
It’s been three years since the break-up when Tommy saves a family and it upends his life. AKA actual kid!fic
Every song has a you (911, Buck/Tommy)
Buck and Tommy talk but do they listen? A fix-it fic that goes AU after 8.06.
Everyone gets to be angry for a while, and then talk it out.
December
A comet's misfortune (911, Buck/Tommy)
One day, Buck and Maddie’s past shows up at her door. Buck should have realized that if they’d been able to hide a kid, they could jettison an entire family, too.
Note: This took us so long to write, and had about three different versions that existed before we got to this one.
The chain I forged (911, Buck/Tommy)
Tommy gets visited by the Ghost of Christmas (or possibly hallucinates as a result of whatever was in those shots Lucy handed him last night). Either way, he’s too old for this shit.
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Okay, I know I said no more Sal Deluca union man until I finished the fixit fic, but I got thinking about how much funnier 8a would be if every time Gerrard opened his mouth Sal Deluca union man was there with the steel chair.
So have a holiday treat.
--
Sal was holding up two pairs of leggings, one bright green and one aggressively, viciously pink, when his phone rang. “Peapod, gremlin, you weird little Kinard clone, please just pick one,” he begged, digging his phone out of his back pocket as Maria’s lower lip jutted out in a pout so absurd she could have only picked it up from Buck.
“I wanna wear my fairy wings,” she cried, pointing at what were actually sparkly bat wings Buck and Tommy gave her for Halloween that she demanded to wear every day because she wanted to be a fancy fairy.
“You can wear those. No one is saying you can’t wear those. But you also need pants.” The pout increased and Sal accepted the call right before it went to voicemail. “Deluca.”
“Uh, hey, Sal,” Buck said. Maria’s head snapped up.
“Oh good,” he said dryly, “the source of all my problems. What do you want, Buckley?”
“Buck!” Maria shrieked, attempting to scale his leg like a feral cat. “Daddy say no fairy wings!”
“That’s not very nice,” Buck said on the edge of a laugh that seemed more forced than genuine.
“I am absolutely letting her wear the wings. I just need her to pick some pants. Help me out.” He put the call on speaker and said, “Gremlin, tell Buck about the pants.”
She heaved a sigh that was much too big and much too weary for her small body. “Green. Pink.”
“Oh man, that’s a tough choice,” Buck said seriously. “I can see why you’re stumped.”
Maria nodded gravely at the phone, little hands on her hips, so much Gina’s kid.
“If it were me,” Buck continued, “I’d go with the pink. The color will make your fairy wings pop.”
“Pop,” Maria repeated, holding out one imperious hand for the leggings.
Sal handed over the pink ones and tossed the green in the general direction of the dresser. “You need help getting those on?”
Maria turned on him a scathing and deeply judgmental look, like she couldn’t believe she had to deal with the dumbest motherfucker to ever walk the earth, and said, with a tone of perfect bitchy condescension, “No.”
He’d never seen a picture of Tommy as a baby, didn’t know if any existed—one day he was going to hunt down Tommy’s parents and take back everything Tommy was owed—but Sal didn’t need any, not when he had his own mini-Kinard in front of him, struggling with her leggings and refusing to ask for help. He never felt as tender as he did when faced with his daughter’s stubborn scowl.
“I’m going to go talk with Buck,” he said, brushing flyaway curls from her face. “Get dressed and then we’ll have breakfast.”
“Bye, Buck,” Maria said, frowning as she performed the advanced calculus needed to get her foot through one leg.
“Please tell me she made the Tommy face,” Buck said as Sal switched him off speaker. “You know the one, like you just said the dumbest thing she’d ever heard but she’s letting it go because she loves you.”
“That’s the one. I blame Gina for letting him hang around so much while she was pregnant. The gremlin imprinted on him in utero.”
“Yeah, because you hate having him around,” Buck said.
“What do you want, kid?” he asked instead of picking up a losing argument.
“Okay, so hypothetically—”
“We’re getting into hypotheticals?” He pulled open the fridge. Maria wasn’t a particularly fussy eater, but she went through intense periods of wanting certain foods only to have that change with no warning. Yogurt was probably still a safe bet, and kiwis. She liked how fuzzy they were. “Tell me you didn’t steal another helicopter to fly into a sovereign country’s waters.”
“We did that once,” Buck protested. Sal let his silence speak for him. Buck sighed. “No, we didn’t do that, and I promised we’d bring you next time. Happy?”
“I’d prefer it if you never did something that dumb again, but I don’t expect miracles.” He grinned at Buck’s aggrieved sigh. “So this hypothetical.”
“Hypothetically, if someone in a leadership position had been removed due to continued, sustained harassment and creating a hostile workplace, they should not be put back into that same leadership position and definitely not overseeing the people they originally harassed, right? And if they were then would this be a concern to raise with these hypothetical people’s hypothetical union?”
Sal dug out Maria’s favorite bowl, the one with Grover on it. “For the love of Christ, tell me this isn’t going where I think this is going.”
“Yeah, so Gerrard’s back as captain,” Buck said.
He slammed the bowl down and then slammed the cupboard, belatedly casting a guilty glance down the hall. Maria was still in her bedroom. He and Tommy had grown up with angry fathers who drank and screamed and liked to throw cups and plates and fists. When Gina told him she was pregnant, he swore to never make his child carry the burden of his anger.
“Sal?” Buck said.
“I’m here,” he said, and did the breathing exercises Frank taught him. Buck patiently waited until he had carefully dammed up the anger for when he’d need it later. “What happened? I thought Hen was acting captain until Nash was back.”
“Apparently at the award ceremony Bobby told Chief Simpson he wanted to resign,” Buck said darkly. Sal winced; he did not envy the full Buckley pout that was coming for Nash. “Gerrard is his replacement. I didn’t even know he was still with the department.”
“Last I heard they kicked him into some administrative role.” He dropped a generous scoop of strawberry yogurt smack dab in the middle of Grover’s face. The kiwi he sliced and fanned out on top because Maria still preferred her food to be paired; Tommy’s fault for spoiling her as a baby. “The brass kept him on so he could get his pension but they also shoved him into a corner and forgot about him.”
“So why is he back here?” Buck said, an angry edge to the words. Sal had never met anyone who loved anything as much as the kid loved the 118.
“That’s a good question.” He poured juice into Maria’s favorite cup—Big Bird to go with Grover—and set everything on the table. He’d give it another five more minutes before launching a rescue op to save his daughter from her own pants. “Did he say anything not homophobic about why he’s back?”
Buck made a noise, which meant Gerrard definitely said something homophobic and probably racist. “Bobby’s in with him right now.”
Sal switched back to speaker and pulled up the contact info for Patillo, who was almost as much as a hardass as him with the added penchant of sticking her nose into everything. WHY THE FUCK IS GERRARD BACK AT THE 118 he sent. To Buck, he said, “And what are you going to do?”
Buck heaved a sigh to match Maria’s. “I’m going to keep my head down and document any inappropriate comments and file complaints with my union rep.”
“Look at that, you can be taught.”
Buck’s eye roll was nearly audible. “God, you’re such a dick.”
THAT’S A GOOD FUCKING QUESTION, Patillo texted, matching his energy, bless her bottomless rage. I’LL GET BACK TO YOU WHEN I FIND OUT.
“Does Tommy know about Gerrard?” Sal asked.
There was a pause. “No,” Buck finally said. “You were my first call.”
At the medal ceremony, Sal had been too far away to hear what Gerrard said, but he saw the way Gerrard let his wrists go limp and how Tommy’s shoulders had curled in and how Buck reared back, looking like he was about to undo all of Sal’s hard work by getting himself fired for popping the old bastard in the face.
“That’s something at least,” Sal said. “How are Howie and Hen doing?”
“Uh,” Buck said, only for the phone to be wrestled away.
“Well, I’m gonna be honest, Sal,” Howie said dryly, “we are not doing great and kind of hoping our union is going to do something about it. Also I can’t believe you asked about Tommy first. He’s not even at the 118 anymore.”
“But I like him more than you,” Sal said. “Well, I like Tommy and Hen more than you.”
“Ouch,” Howie said, hand probably held dramatically over his heart. “Do you have a plan?”
He had never been afraid of Gerrard, not in the way Gerrard wanted him to be. Gerrard was a bully, and Sal had learned as a kid how to deal with them.
“Yeah, I got something,” he said. There was the patter of tiny feet coming down the hall. “I’ll be there soon. Give the kid his phone back.” He hung up before Howie could argue.
He turned just in time to catch Maria as she careened into the kitchen. Her leggings were on straight, but her arms were twisted and tangled in the elastic straps of the bat wings, and the more she wiggled the worse it got.
“Hey, gremlin, hold still before you dislocate something,” he said, only to have her try to wriggle out of his grip.
“Daddy, I got it,” she said, like her right arm wasn’t sticking straight up behind her heard.
“Sure you do,” he agreed, and gently got her untwisted and set to rights. “Ready for breakfast?”
She nodded and stared down the chair. He scooped her up before she could begin her ascent, gently depositing her into the seat with an apologetic kiss to the top of her head. She was so stubborn and wanted to do everything herself, something she got from both him and Gina—and, he admitted because he was an honest man,Tommy—and soon she wouldn’t need him at all.
“Fuzzy!” she said, immediately shoving her fingers into the yogurt to get to the kiwi. Ever since Buck told her the fuzzy outside was edible, she refused to eat them any other way. He loved his kid, but she was one tiny little weirdo.
“Use your spoon,” he said, and received the world’s smallest eye roll in response. “I know we were going to go to the park today, but I thought we’d make a pit stop first.”
He and Gina agreed they needed to keep Maria on a regular schedule, which meant keeping her in daycare on his days off, but his schedule and union duties meant he didn’t get to spend as much time with her as he wanted, and that was going to be even less when she started school next year. So he took her out a couple times a month, just the two of them, trying to smother the guilt that insisted that Maria was going to grow up with only him as a dad shaped hole in her childhood memories.
“I wanna go on swings,” she said, messily licking the yogurt from the spoon.
“You can still go on the swings, but what if we went to the 118 first?”
That got her attention. “Buck there?” she asked. “Go down hole?”
“Yes, Buck will be there.” And Howie, who was in cold war with Buck over being Maria’s favorite, although Hen had them both beat. “You can down the pole but only with someone helping. Remember the talk we had about being safe?”
She nodded, but then she’d agree to anything if it meant she got to play at the 118.
“But this is a union trip, so I need you on your best behavior,” he continued. “We’re going to remind everyone about California’s protected classes and what to do when your boss creates a hostile work environment.”
“Union,” Maria solemnly said with that fighter’s jut to her jaw that she got from him.
“Yeah, baby,” he said, straightening one of her pigtails, “union.”