Chapter Text
1 - The Funeral
There might be nowhere in LA, in California, hell, on the planet, that Tommy wants to be less than Bobby Nash's funeral. But Athena asked him and he can't say no to her; doesn't want to say no to her. ("You were there when we met," she told him, "You should be there at the end." She asks him over the phone, which is his only saving grace because he can't stop the tears from falling).
He's behind Evan at the church, the parade, watches him the whole time, when he should be paying attention to the speeches, the road in front of him. Evan fills his vision, no space for anything, anyone else, just like he always did. Keeps watch at the church, as he checks on Athena, May, fist bumps the younger Nash who Tommy doesn't know. Watches as he keeps an eye on Howie, close enough that Tommy does too, not sure what he's looking for, but if Evan's that worried–
When the fire truck drives away, it's almost anti-climatic. There's usually a grave, and Taps, and the flag folding – comfort in the traditions, the structure of it all. Here, they just stand in the parking lot and watch the truck, carrying the coffin – carrying Bobby – roll out.
Final call.
There’s no real opportunity to say goodbye. To say thank you. Instead, he stands back as the 118 lines up in a row, watching the truck slowly disappear – until one by one, they clasp hands, shoulders, arms, then peel away.
Except Evan, who stays standing there, staring into the distance.
When he's alone, Tommy steps up, clears his throat to announce himself.
Evan startles badly, takes a second to refocus. Then smiles, slightly; it doesn’t quite reach his eyes but it’s real.
Evan breaks the silence first. "How are you?"
He shrugs. "You know." Gestures at the sea of people in black.
Evan nods. "I heard you got called to task for helping us. I’m sorry."
He shrugs, "That's what union reps are for."
Evan looks unconvinced. “Not, uh, planning to sue the department?”
He shakes his head, smiling. “Nobody arrested me. I'll take the win." Nods at the funeral again. "Besides. I should probably take a beat." Takes a moment to push down the need to touch Evan, who – even on today, of all days, saying goodbye to his father – had taken a second to check on him, to make sure his career (like it mattered, in the grand scheme of things) was okay.
Tommy looks around for something else to say, sees Eddie talking to Hen. "Eddie made it up? That's nice."
Evan nods absently. "Yeah, got in this morning. It's weird seeing him out of uniform though." He’s still keeping track of Howie, standing with Maddie and Karen.
"Howie okay?" he asks.
Evan nods, then shakes his head. "He got the dose, Bobby didn't. I –I don't know how you get over that." He points his thumb over at the congregating 118, “I gotta go. Uh, take care, okay?” He’s gone before Tommy can say anything else.
He wouldn’t have asked Evan if he was over it; knows he's not. Couldn't be. He’d watched him break over a shitty live feed, and ached to hold him, because nobody should have to be alone with that kind of pain, the kind of loss that rips you open from the inside out. Instead he’d only been able to clench his hands into fists so tight his fingers ached after, to stop from reaching out, trying to get to him through the screen, so that he’d know he didn’t have to go through it on his own.
He couldn't – hadn't even been able to be there when Evan emerged from the tunnel – scurried away by Army police and the FBI to make a statement. Wishes he'd stood his ground, but knows that being here now is better than on the express train to Leavenworth.
Evan had called him, to help, to save his team and that had to mean something, that maybe he hasn’t burned all his bridges yet, maybe they can have another second chance. Swears to himself, here, in front of God and on Bobby Nash’s head, that if he gets another chance that he'll be better, more honest. Be the man Evan deserves.
Promises himself - Bobby - Evan - that he’ll figure out how to use his words, tell Evan what he’s thinking, what he’s afraid of. His father used to tell him he was in danger of being a sissy faggot whenever he did that. Maybe it’s time to prove him right. Man up and learn how to let someone – Evan – in.
Gets a text from Evan a couple of days after the funeral/ i meant to say thank you, for coming to help / … / i couldn’t remember if id said it before / … / i have to remember that we saved Chim, that Maddie has a husband, Jee a father - and that's. A lot. So thank you. /
Stares at it for way too long trying to decide what to say. Honest, he reminds himself. And texts back / I'll always answer your call, Evan /
2 - The Text Thread
It’s another week before he hears from Evan again – long enough that he wondered if that last text thread had been goodbye, for real this time. While the others are on a call, he cleans up their abandoned dinner, packaging it up. They get back and wave off his offers to reheat to hit the shower and fall into bed. He can hear Gerritson start to snore, even through the wall. Waits a second, and there it is, someone - probably Michals throwing something at Gerritson, Gerritson’s irritable, “fucking what?” and the tired chorus of, “you’re snoring, turn over.” Looks at his phone as he takes his boots off to join them, then stares at the text, bemused. It’s awkward and stilted in a way he’s not used to Evan being. Still, it amounts to – are you eating? Just in a lot more words than that.
Not sure when the text came through, but doesn’t hesitate this time before he texts back / on shift ... Parker made lasagna, not not as good as yours, but definitely passable / And then because conversation is a give and take / have you been eating? /
Gets a picture of a bowl of chili. In the background he recognizes the 118 kitchen. Waits for a picture of the rest of the 118 at family dinner. Doesn't get one. Finishes taking off his boots and softly drops onto his back on the bunk, trying not to squeak the coils.
That seems to be all the opening that Evan needs, because there's a torrent of follow up texts – / have you been sleeping / … / exercising (enough? too much?) / … / have you talked to a therapist, a priest, a – /
Last year, Evan came on like a stampede, ran roughshod over all of Tommy's defenses – he never stood a chance. Nothing’s changed. Doesn’t stand a chance now. He spent months not texting, not calling, trying desperately not to think about Evan.
And for what. He’s right back where he started. Nobody to blame but himself. Evan called and he answered without asking any questions. He needs to figure out what he wants, and how to ask for it – break the cycle. Or this is just going to be Groundhog Day all over again, and that was never one of his favorite Bill Murray movies.
/ are you checking up on me? / He asks.
Gets back / you were one of Bobby’s as much as the rest of us /
That’s nice. He’s not quite sure it’s true. He hadn’t stayed at the 118 long enough to see what Bobby had made of it, except from the outside. But Bobby had been kind to him when he needed it in a way Tommy would never have asked for, and he thinks that part of him will always belong to Bobby.
There's a pause in Evan’s texting. Tommy wonders what happened, if there was a call, but then. / Do you believe in God? / a second and then / how do I not know if you go to church? /
And dear lord, Evan Buckley, that is not a conversation for text messages.
It’s 2am and Lucy will actually kill him if he wakes her up, but he's just gotten the pillows and blankets on the bunkroom bed arranged just right, and he's not going to move.
Texts / in order / … / enough, could always sleep more /
/ some / Reminds him actually that he hasn’t gone to the gym to spar in a while, has a languishing text thread with his usual partner asking when he’s free for a rematch. Makes a mental note to text him back.
And / no / and, then this is the big one / there were a lot of things we didn’t talk about /
After he walked out the door, after he broke his own heart (and possibly Evan’s) he drove past Evan's old place, not once, like he said, but over and over again, returning to the scene of his crime, because he couldn't help it. Could never bring himself to open the truck door, to ring the door, to tell Evan how much he wanted. Could never really manage to work up the courage to tell Evan anything real.
He shouldn’t be surprised that that text gets him a call. Gives up on sleep for the night and gets up to talk to Evan, pushing open the door to the bunkroom with his shoulder.
“Why didn’t we?” Evan asks when he answers.
He doesn’t have a good answer for that, or at least not one he’s admitting to the ex-boyfriend he’s still more than half in love with, even after six months. Which is just pathetic.
“I think we were having too much fun,” he says instead.
Evan makes a dissatisfied noise. “We should have.”
Yes.
“We still could,” Evan says, “couldn’t we?” Then hastily. “Not like that. Just, friends. I liked you before I fell in love with you. Could we try that part again?”
Abby told him she loved him. But it wasn’t the real him she was in love with, she’d never really known him. He said it back, rote, because he was supposed to.
It’s the first time anyone has ever told him they were in love with him— the real him, or as close to it as he’d let Evan see — and he can’t react, on the phone with an ex who just said they could be friends. In a firehouse, where anyone could pop up at any time.
Nobody ever tells you that healing can hurt as much as breaking.
Takes a breath. Heads into the breakroom, starts to make coffee. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Leans a hip on the counter, lets the sound of Evan talking wash over him, along with the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
3 - The Bar
Evan’s already a couple of shots and at least one beer in, judging by the glasses littering the table, when Tommy spots him and Ravi, joining them when Ravi waves him over.
"Was there something else I could have done?" Evan asks, morose, two and a half beers later. He’s slumped on the opposite side of the booth in a baby pink sweater, cardigan thing that Tommy’s never seen before, shredding a napkin. He wants to give Evan a hug but that’s not his place any more; they’re trying to be friends.
Tommy trades a glance with Ravi. "When?"
Evan doesn't look at him, stares at his beer like it holds the answers. "With Bobby. Was there something else I could have done? Or, if someone else had been there, could they have done something?"
Ravi shrugs, “Can’t think about that, man, like you said, you have to push the doubt away.” He turns back to the bowl of bar mix that he’s diligently removing all the pretzels from. “Why did we come back here?” he asks, as he picks through the bowl. “The other place has better snacks.”
Evan glares at him, “Because it’s tradition.” Plows on, “And– I mean, that day. Could someone else have done more? Done something else? I- I keep thinking about it, trying to figure out if there was something else I could have done - if I'd been faster, found her earlier, or–” Tommy’s not sure where this is coming from; Evan hasn’t talked about that night, really at all, since the funeral. “Was there something that we could have done earlier, to, uh, stop Moira before she burned the lab?"
“No.” Ravi says, popping one of his pilfered pretzels in his mouth. “I’m gonna go get another beer.” Looks at Tommy, “You want?” Tommy notices he does not ask Evan, and thinks that’s probably wise.
He nods. Has a feeling he’s going to need it. "It wouldn't have made a difference," he points out, turning back to Evan. "Bobby was infected hours before. There's nothing anyone could have done." He pauses, well, there was– “I mean, her staff? The boss guy? Maybe one of them could have, a while ago. But not once you were there.”
Evan doesn't look satisfied with that answer. “There’s always something.” Evan looks around, gestures vaguely “There’s always — like, a butterfly flaps its wings, right?”
Ravi comes back, hands a beer to Tommy, and a glass of water to Evan. Nudges it in place of the half a pint that Evan has left. "It's a Kobayashi Maru," he announces, adding, "I ordered fries."
Evan looks confused. "It's a what?"
"No win situation.” Ravi waves his hands, “Nothing you can do will stop the Klingons from killing everyone. The point is to learn that sometimes you can't win, that there's nothing you can do, and figure out what you do then."
Evan blinks. "Klingons? Like Star Wars?"
Ravi opens his mouth. Closes it again. Tommy has to laugh; he’s used to this from Evan. Eyes Ravi over his beer, “How do you know that movie?” Counts backward in his head. “Weren’t you, like five?”
“First,” Ravi points his finger at Evan, “that’s blasphemy.” Tommy hides his grin in his hand at Ravi’s offended look. "Star Wars wishes it was that good. And second–" Points at Tommy. "Mom's a Trekkie; also she thinks Pine is the best Chris." Ravi’s mother is not wrong about that. Salts the fries when the harried waitress drops them on the table with a thud without a word. "And third, there's not a lot to do in a hospital when you're eleven and have cancer." Tommy doesn’t know what to do with that, but Evan doesn’t seem surprised, so clearly it’s old news at the 118. Ravi’s still talking though, and he refocuses. “Also, you had to have been, what, two? For the original, so you have no room to talk.” He makes a face at Ravi, who just laughs at him.
That pulls Evan out of his contemplation of his beer to look between them baffled, "I feel like I'm missing something."
Tommy swallows down a laugh, “Probably a lot. I’ll tell you later.”
"Sixty years of great sci fi." Ravi slaps Evan’s hand away when he reaches for a fry. "Get your own fries if you want them, these are mine."
Tommy steals one with a wink at Evan. “Hey!” Evan exclaims. Waves at Ravi, who shrugs.
“He knows good TV,” Ravi nods at him. “He’s exempt.” Then concedes and pushes them towards Evan.
The fry distraction did not work, unfortunately – Evan's back on the Kobayashi Maru. "So the, the– what did you call it?"
"Kobayashi Maru," Ravi and Tommy say in unison.
“Did they just…invent words?” Ravi waggles a hand, and Evan seems to be willing to just roll with that. "Okay, so, yea, that, the Kobay-whatever, is a no-win situation."
Ravi nods, and then signals at the bartender for another round of fries. “Unless you’re Kirk and using it to hate-flirt with Spock and change the conditions of the test to win.”
Evan frowns, visibly decides to ignore half of the sentence and focus on,. "So if you can change something, you can change the outcome?" Tommy can see where this is going, and doesn't know how to stop it. "Could I, we— have done that?"
Ravi cocks his head. "You think you're Kirk?" Considers. "Well, you do have the hair for it." Eats another fry, "And if the stories are true, you've definitely slept with all the alien women."
Tommy objects, "Canonically Picard was actually more of a bad boy than Kirk was."
“Is he the bald one?” Evan asks. And Tommy's grateful it seems to have derailed him from his spiral, but that doesn’t mean he can forgive him this transgression.
Tommy and Ravi turn to him in unison., “Is he the bald one?!?” Ravi says, slowly, like he’s waiting for Evan to take it back.
Evan looks between them. “You know you both look like creepy dolls right now?”
Tommy shakes his head, pats his hand. "I'll add it to the list. You'll like it– men and women being smart to lust after."
"Uhura," Ravi says with feeling.
“Spock, “ Tommy adds. Though maybe later in his more…final phase.
Ravi looks interested, "Nimoy or Quinto?"
"Both," he says promptly. "Both is good." Though honestly, it wasn’t really any of them who did it for him. “Normally I’d say Dr. McCoy, you know, uh, Karl Urban?” Ravi nods; Evan is predictably confused. “But that meme? About when you can tell it’s sci-fi, based on his hair?” Ravi nods again and Evan mouths ‘his hair?’ “‘S true. I didn’t know they could make him unattractive.”
“Such bad hair.” Ravi laughs, miming the unfortunate bowl cut. “I mean, that’s Éomer.”
Tommy nods.
“Are you two done?” Evan asks. Tommy sighs, so much for derailing his train of thought, tries not to let it show on his face. "Eddie said he might have been able to do something different if he'd been here."
Tommy sees red. "Fuck that." Ravi's hand stops halfway to his mouth, fry dangling limply.
Ravi, shoves the rest of the fry in his mouth, talks with his mouth full. “Can we not do this right now?” Evan opens his mouth to argue, and Ravi holds up a hand. "Seriously, Tommy’s right. Fuck that. He left. He wasn't here. He doesn't get to second guess what we did."
Tommy thinks he's never realized how much he likes Ravi until right this second.
In the parking lot, they load Evan into the uber, and Tommy leans in to tell Evan to text him when he gets home. Ravi’s looking at him, head tilted. “He made me swear I wouldn't leave you two alone together. Was I wrong to do that last time?"
He huffs a quiet laugh. “No. Yes. We’re trying something new.”
Ravi raises an eyebrow.
“Friends,” he clarifies.
“Huh,” Ravi says. “Okay.”
He raises his eyebrow back at Ravi, who shrugs. “I’m still new to A-shift. I’m not privy to all the gossip yet. If you say friends, then I’m not going to argue with you.”
4 - Methane Leak
“Hey,” Tommy looks over, Gerritson’s staring intently at his phone, waving his other hand, but no one else is paying him any attention. “Hey,” he calls out, “Turn the TV on.” He makes a shrill whistle and everyone goes quiet. “Turn the TV on, there’s a building collapse.”
They all watch as Taylor Kelly reports live from the scene. She is pretty, but he can’t picture her with Evan at all.
Donato leans forward. “Is that … that is the 118.”
“Of course it is,” Gerritson says. “Who else would be there?”
“You know,” Michaels muses, “I am almost sure that there are other firehouses in LA.”
Gerritson nods. “No, no, there are. I’ve seen the engines.”
“Are you sure they weren’t movie props?” MIchaels asks.
Donato leans over the back of the couch to steal some of his potato chips, poke Tommy in the head while she shoves chips in her mouth, speaks through chewing, “You gonna steal the bird to rescue them?"
And, he’s still grounded, still on paperwork duty. It’s a joke, he knows it. Rolls his eyes at her. They watch another chunk of the building fall. “A helicopter is exactly what that situation needs,” he tells her deadpan.
They keep the TV on – he's the default man-behind while he’s grounded, but on the next call out, someone else is back there with him. The next one, too.
“I don't need you to babysit me, I promise I’m not going to steal another helicopter.”
“I know,” Gerritson says easily, “but all the same. Just to be safe.”
He does maintenance on the birds, finishes some paperwork, makes lunch. Is bored out of his mind, but all things considered this is pretty light punishment, so he’s not complaining.
They watch the first responders on the ground in and out of the building. Taylor Kelly manages to catch the moment that three people zipline from the building to the roof of the parking garage next door. Evan told him she could always sniff out a good story, has good instincts for when something will happen. He squints at the screen, too far away to see who any of the people are, but he would bet good money that one of them is Evan.
Gerritson stands next to him, arms crossed, watching. “That your boy?”
“We’re friends,” he says automatically. Ignores Gerritson’s skeptical grunt. “And I don’t know, but probably.”
He texts Evan / that you on the line? Nice stunt work / He can still see the 118 engine on the scene on the TV, doesn’t expect an answer back anytime soon. Waits a bit and then asks, / you okay? /
Doesn’t get a response, and tries not to worry about that.
It’s shading into evening and he’s almost off shift when he finally gets a text from Evan / I put in for a transfer /
That makes him sit up straight, staring at his phone like if he reads it again it’ll make more sense. Doesn’t even bother to text back, goes straight to calling, and gets bounced to voicemail.
Donato looks up from where she’s sprawled on the couch. “Everything okay?”
He has no idea. Says, “Yes?” distractedly. Tries calling Evan again. Gets voicemail again. Drums his fingers on the desk in front of him.
Texts him / That does not sound like you’re okay /
Feels off balance for the rest of his shift – counting down the minutes, staring at the clock, which doesn't seem to be moving. Isn’t sure what he thinks he’s going to do when the shift ends – drive to Evan’s, check in person to make sure he’s okay? Maybe. Finally hears from Evan when he’s emptying the dishwasher as the last thing he does before he’s officially done for the day.
/ sorry / … / we had another call / … / and then we went out for drinks to celebrate /
He calls again and this time Evan picks up. He sounds, tired? He can’t quite place what it is in Evan’s voice. “You went out to celebrate?”
Evan clears his throat. “Yeah. Chimney’s gonna be the new 118 captain.” Clears his throat again. “And, um, Eddie’s gonna stay, move back to LA. Take Chimney’s place on the team.”
He notices the way Evan doesn’t say our new captain, or place on our team. Says cautiously, “You put in for a transfer?”
Evan’s quiet for a long moment. “Yeah. But, I- I withdrew it.” He pauses again, and Tommy waits for him to figure out what he wants to say. “Chim was right, I’d miss Bobby just as much somewhere else.”
“Are you sure?” He can’t imagine Evan anywhere other than the 118; he is the 118. The heart of it. The one they all orbit around.
“No, I- I’m not sure, it just. Doesn’t feel much like a family, anymore.”
“They say not to make big changes when you’re–”
“Gonna be some, anyway,” Evan breaks in. Tommy wishes he could see Evan’s face. “Eddie’s moving back. Getting the band back together.” He sounds brittle.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course,” Evan says, and it’s maybe the least convincing he’s ever heard him. “Are you? Any damage at your place?
He scowls at his phone at the change in subject but lets him get away with it. “I’m far enough out that I’m on the other water supply. Checked the water for a bunch of my neighbors though, to make sure. Got cookies out of it, so not bad for a night’s work.”
Evan laughs, and Tommy wishes they were doing this in person, so he could see what Evan's really thinking. “I’ve never really had neighbors, not ones I knew anyway.” Pauses. “Well, except for Veronica. Don’t uh, hook up with people who live next door to you. Not that I knew that when I hooked up with her, but yeah. Life lesson for you.”
“Duly noted.” The silence drags out, but Evan doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to hang up, so he lets it spool out comfortably. Finally says, “Howie got Captain, not Hen?”
“Hen didn’t want it. Didn’t take it, anyway. They offered; she turned them down.” That’s objectively slightly insane, but okay.
And Eddie might be his least favorite subject, after his dad and his feelings, but, has to ask, “Is Eddie moving back in with you?”
There’s a pause. Then. “So, funny story.”
As he listens to Buck explain how Eddie’s moving back into his place, Buck was just subletting, now he’s going to find a new one – Tommy doesn’t know what his face is doing, but he’s digging half moons into the palms of his hands with his fingernails. There might actually be steam coming off his head. Something bounces off his back and he whips around to see Donato pointing at the floor.
One of Michaels’ bright pink stress balls, from when he was going through anger management classes. He kept them all over the hangar, for a while it seemed like every drawer or cabinet they opened had one fall out. He’d found one in his bird once, and just why? Michaels’ is ground crew, he doesn’t even fly. He picks it up and squeezes it hard, mouths “thank you” at Lucy.
When they hang up, he doesn’t hear anything else from Evan that night, figures he’s probably asleep, hopes for the sake of Evan’s back that he finally got around to putting his bed frame together. He’s still young, but not that young.
Gets a text from him the next day that has him sitting up and making some kind of noise because Donato looks up from her phone to say, “What? Is it helicopter rescue time now? Gerritson, turn on the TV, the 118 is doing something crazy again.”
He throws a napkin at her. “No helicopters needed. Evan’s sister had the baby.”
That gets Lucy to get up and come over. “I didn’t know she was pregnant. That’s great.” Peers at his phone. “Are there pictures? A name?”
“Hang on,” he says, texting Evan back.
Is rewarded with a picture of Maddie looking exhausted but happy, and Chim looking enraptured. Jee peering over the edge of the bed at the new baby. “Robert Nash Han,” he reads. “Seven pounds, nine ounces.” Lucy winces. “Mom and baby are healthy.” Another picture comes through, the extended 118, with Athena and her kids, Evan’s parents.
“Tell Buck congratulations for me,” Lucy says. “I know how much he loves being an uncle.”
He gives her a thumbs up, even as he’s texting Evan. / everyone at Harbor says congratulations /
Then gets up and calls Evan. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Evan still sounds tired, but better than he had the last time Tommy talked to him.
“Congratulations, again.”
“Thanks.”
“So, Robert Nash Han?” He’d honestly been expecting Kevin’s name to sneak in there somewhere.
“Yeah. Feels right. Bobby saved his life so Chim could be there to see his son born.” Pause. “Athena’s already calling him Bobby.”
He waits. Evan breaks first. “He told me to go, but should I have stayed? He was alone, at the end." And Tommy has to tell him.
Because he promised himself he’d be more honest. Because not saying things is what fucked them up before. And he wants a do over, even if it’s just as friends. (They don’t feel like friends, but friends is what Evan is offering right now, and Tommy’s not sure he’d take anything else if Evan offered now, because he wouldn’t trust that it was real and not just grief and loneliness, and god, he needs it to be real - thinks maybe it could be, if he can remember how to actually take it slow this time).
So, he doesn't want to tell Evan that he saw him, when he should have been the most private - but it feels like a lie to not tell him. He has no idea how Evan will react.
“He wasn’t. Athena was there.” Pauses, gathers himself, takes a deep breath. “But I know you were. Alone. I saw-” his voice breaks, cracks like he’s a prepubescent middle schooler. “They had a screen.”
There’s absolute silence on the other end of the phone, and he really really wishes that he could see Evan’s face. Reach out and touch him. And then, "I need to go," and Tommy’s left with dead air on the other end of the phone.
After Evan goes radio silent. Tommy scrubs his palm over his face, pinches the bridge of his nose. He fucked this up again. He waits, drops into a chair, and still nothing. Looks at his phone – still nothing.
When Evan calls again, it’s the dead of night. Starts in the middle of the conversation like there hadn’t been any kind of hiatus. “I keep thinking about you watching me, wondering what you think of me.”
He's woken Tommy up, and he's more honest than he would be if he was more awake. “Watching you broke my heart. I desperately wanted to hold you. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t go to you, I couldn’t leave, and I wasn’t sure if I had the right, anyway. If you would have– but I wanted to.”
5 - Social Media, take 1
He gets a text from Sal. There had been a time that wasn’t rare, but scrolling back, last time they talked was last summer for a command performance at his kid’s communion. / is your boy serious? /
Tommy doesn’t know who his boy is (he knows exactly who his boy is) but can guess what he’s serious about. Doesn’t want to give Deluca the satisfaction. / Gonna need more context / he texts back.
He answers the phone on the first ring. Opens with, “The fuck you talking about, Deluca?”
“I don’t want to put in for your boy’s transfer if he’s going to leave me hanging.” And huh. Evan apparently hadn’t withdrawn the request afterall.
Tells him the truth, “I honestly don’t know.”
Doesn’t bring it up to Evan – if Evan wants to talk about it, Tommy has to trust that he knows that he can. Until then it’s none of his business. He knows how he responds to pushing; he shuts down, turns away. Figures Evan might do something similar here. Needs talk about this on his own time.
He gets used to late night, early morning texts from Evan – he can’t be on shift for all of them, just sleeping badly. Wonders if Evan’s checked in on himself the same way he’d checked in on Tommy. If he’s eating, exercising. Knows he’s not sleeping.
Sometimes they’re random facts from whatever documentary Evan’s watching. They almost feel like normal, except for the timestamp. Like his phone is a time portal to a year ago when he expected random messages from Evan at all hours.
They meet up for drinks. For lunch. For apartment hunting. Tommy bites his tongue about that, although there’s something tight lurking around the corners of Evan’s mouth that makes him want to push.
He thinks sometimes about how he’s been jealous of Eddie, and wishes he could go back in time and tell himself that he was an idiot – that Eddie isn’t worth being jealous of. There are a lot of things about that (wonderful – horrible) morning that he’d change if he had the chance to do it again.
They go out with Ravi, again – the Three Amigos, the Three Musketeers, "the third wheel," Ravi intones. "But hell, I'm just happy the two of you are talking, texting again." And he looks meaningfully at Evan who looks uncomfortable.
He looks at Evan curiously, and Evan says reluctantly, “You kept bubbling me like you were gonna text and then decided not to.” That is, to be fair, a pretty accurate summation of what he’s been doing. Wanting and too chickenshit to admit it. Evan coughs. “I may have mentioned it once or twice at the station.” Ravi snorts into his beer.
“Sorry,” he says and means it.
Evan shrugs, “‘sokay. We got here now.”
“How was your day?” Evan asks one afternoon when they’re meeting for an after-shift breakfast? lunch? Technically it’s probably too late to call it brunch, but he’s ordering pancakes because it was that kind of a shift, so whatever.
“I’m going to be on youtube,” he tells Evan gloomily.
That gets Evan to look up from the menu. “Really?”
“Really,” he confirms. Nods thank you to the waitress who brings them coffee.
“How?” Evan asks. ”Why?” Pauses to order a Western omelet with homefries - not doing keto this week apparently. He’d never figured out a way to tell Evan that he liked the softness of his slight belly - fat layered over muscle, signs that he was comfortable in his own skin. Happy.
He orders pancakes and eggs and bacon. Fuck it, he’s earned his carbs today.
“Youtube rehabbers,” he mutters. Points his spoon at Evan. “Bought an old Spanish Revival up in the hills, doing one of those week by week series about how they’re restoring it. And it’s supposed to be charming that they don’t know what they’re doing, and they’re learning as they go.”
“Asbestos,” Evan says with feeling, “Lead paint.”
“Exactly,” he agrees. “They decided structural engineers are for suckers and ripped out a load bearing wall to make the living room open plan. Why even buy an old house like that if you just want to make it look like a soulless, modern box? Anway, we found out later they filmed the entire rescue when we turned up to dig them out. Department decided it would be good publicity. Fuck my life.”
Looks up to see Evan grinning at him. “What?”
Evan shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Squints at him. “You don’t agree with me?”
“Of course I do.” Tommy’s maybe a little obsessed with the laugh lines beside his eyes when he cackles like that. “I’m a firefighter, and I used to work construction. Just, you’re cute when you rant.”
It totally derails Tommy's train of thought. Manages, “I'm not cute, Evan." Evan just grins. “I’m not. Your niece is cute. I’m 43 and 6’2”.” He flexes slightly to make his point,and smirks to himself when Evan’s eyes flicker over his arms before quickly refocusing on his face. “I am not cute.”
“Jee is cute,” Evan agrees. “So are you when you get on a roll. Most people don’t even know you have buttons to push.” Props his chin on his hands. “Why do you think I stole your spumoni?”
The look in Evan’s eyes has Tommy’s pants tightening; he knows that look. He knows what comes after that look. He’s saved from having to come up with an answer to that by their food arriving. This feels like flirting. Except they’re friends, or trying to be. Friends tease each other. Apparently. He can roll with this.
He tries to offer what he can — support, an ear, casual conversation that maybe goes a little too flirty sometimes but. He’s putting himself out there and maybe, when Evan figures out what he wants, it will include him.
But, part of honesty is honesty with himself too, and he can’t live in limbo, waiting to see which way Evan will leap. Needs a distraction, so he says yes to the off-shift drink Gerritson offers, goes with Michaels to his pub quiz ("You are way too intense about this," he tells Michaels, "let me introduce you to karaoke quiz.") Parker has a daycare emergency, she's crying in the breakroom but tries to hide it, quickly wiping her cheeks, straightening to stand at attention. "Coffee’s almost ready." He can see the way she wants to add sir to the end of that, she’s only a year out of the Navy. They’ll get her to be insubordinate and cheeky like the rest of them, give them time.
"Are you-"
She interrupts before he even finishes his sentence. "I'm fine." He raises an eyebrow. "Really."
"It's just, you – you didn't sound fine?" He sits down, gestures to the chair across from him. "You can talk to me?" Figures she won't believe him – he's never offered before but. Maybe this is part of that, opening himself up, getting to know his people, maybe build his own kind of family.
She sits down and the whole story comes pouring out, and that's how he ends up watching two six-year-old girls on a Saturday morning. When she gets home, his hair is braided, he's got pink nails, and Lily is sacked out hanging onto his back.
"So you had fun," Parker says, with a smirk.
He had actually.