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Buck had never been afraid of thunderstorms in his life. Actually, he loved them. He loved the way the air crackled with energy as the storm moved in, loved the rush of rain against the window and the smell of it, loved the way the electricity danced across the sky, even loved the big booms of thunder. Lightning storms were relatively rare in Los Angeles. Most of the year was dry without any rain at all, and the winter rainstorms generally had plenty of wind but very little lightning. So it never occurred to him that something might have changed for him until he woke up breathless and shaking as thunder echoed around him. He barely had a chance to understand what was happening before lightning flashed outside his window, painting everything a shocking blue for a split second and splitting the air with another window-rattling boom .
Buck’s heart rate doubled and he felt the unfamiliar signs of panic–the shortness of breath, the cloudiness in his brain, the urge to get the fuck out of there . But there was nowhere to run. Where would he go? Out into the storm? That was stupid and he might be an idiot sometimes, and he might even act like he had a deathwish on occasion, but he wasn’t going to flee the safety of his own apartment. Besides, lightning never lasted long in LA, either. Sometimes the storm rolled in and out again in five minutes. He would just wait it out.
But the storm must have been right on top of him because it wasn’t letting up. Every time his pulse would start to return to normal, another bright flash and loud crack would send it into the stratosphere. He waited for the sound of rain against the window, but either there was no rain, or the beating of his heart in his ears was too loud for him to hear anything else. The air in his loft was cool, the air conditioner set at a comfortable 67 degrees, but he felt hot, his skin flushed and sticky with sweat, chills racing down his spine when the cool air blew down from the duct and across his damp hair.
Buck fumbled for his phone, checking the weather service for any warnings or information about the storm. The alert said to be aware of lightning in the area until 4:45 AM, and it was only a quarter past one. Three and half more hours of this? He could do it. Sure, he’d been through much worse including being actually hit by lightning, this was nothing. He was safe in his bed, he could watch the storm pass by through the window, he was away from any dangerous points, there was no way the lightning could hurt him now. His brain accepted that, but his body was a different story.
The phone lit up with a text. Buck had to blink the sweat out of his eyes before he could read the message from Tommy. Hey you doing ok?
Buck never really talked about the lightning incident, why should he? Tommy was a firefighter, he knew better than anyone that injuries on the job happened all the time, that every call was a dangerous call with the potential to go bad, no real reason to talk about the ones that did, right? But Tommy knew about it anyway because of Christopher and Eddie–apparently they told Tommy all about the time Buck died –even though he had only been dead for about three minutes and he wasn’t dead now, he was fine now. But he couldn’t blame Christopher for talking about it, wasn’t like it was a secret, and that it was a pretty big deal for a kid.
For a moment, he considered sending back a thumb’s up. Tommy was on shift, there was absolutely no reason for him to be worried about Buck because Buck was fine . He couldn’t be more fine. Really. No reason for Tommy to worry about him when he had actual things to worry about. But Tommy didn’t like it when Buck jumped to the answer he thought was the right answer instead of the honest answer, and honestly? Honestly, he was covered in a cold sweat, his heart was pounding, his throat was tight, and he was jumping every single time he saw the flash of lightning from the corner of his eye. If Chim or Hen were there, they’d be calling out the physical symptoms and doing an analysis and concluding that Buck was not, in fact, fine.
A little anxious I’ll be okay .
Tommy’s response was almost instant. What does that mean? What are you feeling?
Tommy wasn’t a paramedic but like all first responders, he’d been through the training. Elevated heart rate cold sweat a bit jumpy just need to wait it out off tomorrow so I can sleep in the morning .
Tommy didn’t respond, so Buck figured he was satisfied with the answer. Or maybe he got a call. The conditions that summer were hot and dry, like always. A lightning storm like this could have set off fires across the region. The hills could go up like a fucking tinder box. This was exactly the sort of conditions that would have Tommy up in the air before dawn. He considered reaching out to Eddie or Maddie, but dismissed the idea. For one thing, he absolutely didn’t need anything, and for another thing, they were probably busy dealing with their actual children.
Buck sank back against the pillows and closed his eyes, thinking about the days when being surrounded by windows and natural light was a major selling point for this place. The sound of the thunder wasn’t great, but it was definitely the lightning that made him jump. Even closing his eyes didn’t help–he still saw the white-blue light behind his eyelids. The crazy thing was, he didn’t remember seeing the bolt that hit him. It all happened so fast he probably didn’t see it at all–in his memory he was staring at the clouds and then he was staring at the hospital ceiling with flashes of the insane coma dream in between. No lightning at all.
Taylor slept with a mask sometimes. Maybe she left one in his apartment? He was still finding the odd reminders of her, little things in the drawers and cupboards and under sinks that didn’t belong to him. Maybe if he searched the bathroom–
A sharp rap on the door pulled him into a seated position. It was after two now. For a moment, he thought he imagined it, or maybe mistook a distant rolling thunder, but the sound came again, louder and unmistakable. Somebody was at his door.
Buck got out of bed, pausing to pull on a pair of sweats before hurrying down the stairs. It really could only be one person, but Buck was still surprised when he opened the door and saw Tommy standing there.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you, Evan.”
“Why? I told you I’m fine.”
Tommy held up his phone, showing Buck the screen with their conversation. “Is this you?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me where in that message you said you were fine ?”
Buck nodded, conceding the point. “But I did say I’d be okay.”
“Come here.”
Tommy wrapped his arms around Buck and stepped into the apartment far enough to close the door behind him. Buck sank into the embrace automatically, leaning against Tommy’s chest, closing his eyes as he rested his head on a thick shoulder. It just felt so good when Tommy held him like that. He kept one arm around Buck while his other hand moved over Buck’s face and down his throat, checking his pulse, feeling the flush on his skin, the clammy sweat that still clung to him.
“Evan, why didn’t you call me?”
“You’re still on shift,” Buck muttered, pressing his face more firmly into the dip where Tomm’y shoulder met his neck. “What are you even doing here?”
“My shift ends at 0500. Jimmy came in early to relieve me.”
“You made somebody come in early?”
“He owed me one.”
“Still, you didn’t have to do that.”
“You want me to go?”
“No!” Buck answered with more force than he intended. No, no, no, he definitely didn’t want Tommy to go and leave him alone again. Lightning flashed at that moment and he stiffened, his body bracing for the shock of pain and darkness that wasn’t coming, and then he jumped at the almost immediate sound of thunder.
“Oh,” Tommy said softly, and then his lips were on Buck’s temple. “You’re shaking.”
Not just shaking. Shivering. Despite the heat of Tommy’s body, he felt cold outside of the safety of his bed, the conditioned air hitting him even harder.
“Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”
Buck nodded, straightening so he could walk up the stairs with the other man but keeping his arms around him. When they reached the foot of Buck’s bed, Tommy broke away and pulled his shirt over his head, then toed off his shoes. Buck watched, stupefied by the sight of Tommy’s naked chest, his eyes widening as Tommy’s hands moved to his belt.
“Um, I don’t think I’m ready for–” Buck started, his tongue freezing when Tommy looked up at him. He was actually more than ready for anything Tommy wanted to do, but he was still shivering, the chills worse now that Tommy wasn’t holding him. They were taking things slow and hadn’t progressed much beyond kissing and snuggling, which was all very, very nice, if not a little maddening.
“I’m not trying to fuck you right now, Evan. When I am, you’ll know it.”
Buck had absolutely no doubt about that.
“Skin-to-skin contact actually has a myriad of benefits, besides the fact that it’s the best way to get you warmed up.”
It was definitely going to get him warmed up. Warmed up and wound up. Being close to Tommy always had that effect on him, made his blood rush south from his head, made him feel giddy and sexy and ready for anything. Another white-blue flash took him by surprise, and he made an undignified sound–something between a yelp and a moan. Tommy moved as quick as the lightning, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and guiding him to the mattress, then crawled under the sheet behind him.
The sensation of Tommy pressed to his back from his neck to his thighs shocked his system, made the entire rest of the world disappear. Suddenly there wasn’t an electric storm dancing outside his many windows, there was only Tommy, and Tommy’s body, and his heat, and his breath, and his arms, and the steady thrumming of his heart where his chest pressed into Buck’s ribs.
“Breathe, Evan. Take a deep breath in, count to four. Now exhale, count to four.”
Right, yeah. Breathing. That was important. He definitely wanted to remember how to do that. He followed Tommy’s low voice, inhaling and exhaling on demand until the tightness around his chest subsided and the tension started to drain from his muscles. He shifted his weight back, wanting to feel more of Tommy, wanting to absorb every bit of warmth, dizzy from the scent of his skin. Nobody had ever spooned Buck like this before and he felt so good . Just so incredibly good.
“Better?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re still so tense.”
Was he? He didn’t feel tense. He felt like he was melting, like he’d been exposed to the flames for too long. Strong fingers pressed into the back of his neck and he whimpered from the pressure.
“Too much?”
“No, no, no, it’s good. It’s good, don’t stop. Please.”
“I won’t stop, Evan.” It sounded like a promise that was much, much bigger than this small moment, and all Buck could do was whimper again. “Have you talked to anybody?”
“About what?”
“Your PTSD.”
“I don’t have–oh. That’s what this is all about?”
“Yeah, Evan.”
“I guess I’ll call Frank in the morning. He’s the counselor everybody sees. They all like him.”
“Good idea.”
Buck shivered, but this time it wasn’t from the chill or shock or PTSD or whatever was going on, it was from the warmth in Tommy’s voice. The pressure from his fingers disappeared, replaced by the soft feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to the nape of Buck’s neck. He was melting again, brain turning to mush, the thought of calling Frank already slipping from his mind. His palm rolled down Buck’s arm, slid over the edge of his hip, and came back up his chest. His touch was firm and soothing, but heat spread from his palm, through Buck’s body, making him ache for more. More contact, more touching, more kissing, more of everything. Tommy’s hand came to a rest just over his heart, a comforting weight.
“Thank you for coming over.”
“I’m happy to. You can call me, you know. Even when I’m on shift.”
“You sure?”
“I’m not really in the habit of saying things I don’t mean.”
That was true. In fact, it was one of the things Buck really, really admired about him. One of the many things Buck admired about him.
The building shook with another ear-piercing boom, and Buck turned to face Tommy, arms locking around his ribs, his leg sliding between Tommy’s thick, muscled thighs. Buck’s sweats and Tommy’s boxers acted as a barrier between them, but he was still painfully aware of how close their groins were, how easy it would be to slide the clothes away and touch each other, really touch each other for the first time. He thought about that a lot, what would it feel like. If it would be like when he touched himself or completely unlike anything he ever felt before. Probably that, since just about everything Tommy did was completely unlike anything Buck had ever felt before.
Like when he cupped Buck’s face between both of his huge hands with so much tenderness it took Buck’s breath away and leaned in to gently kiss between his eyebrows, the birthmark on his eye, the corner of his mouth. His breath smelled like cinnamon and Buck turned to claim his mouth, his tongue seeking more of that cinnamon flavor. Tommy opened to the kiss, following Buck’s lead, lazily licking past Buck’s lips and moaning with soft encouragement as Buck deepened the kiss.
When they first started kissing like this, after their third official date, Buck had been so self-conscious. Not because he was kissing a man for the first time–or the second time technically–but because he’d never done it before. He knew how to kiss a woman, knew how to touch a woman, knew exactly what he needed to do. Learned quickly after his first awkward attempts at the age of twelve and he had plenty of practice since then, but kissing Tommy was completely different. His mouth was a different size and a different shape and the chemistry was difference an his own responses were different, and it was all just completely new to him. Buck never shied away from learning new skills, he loved to try new things, but he didn’t like it when he wasn’t good at something. And he very much wanted to be good for Tommy. But the more they did it, the more comfortable Buck became, and now it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Now it was absurd to wonder if he was good at kissing, might as well ask if he was good at breathing.
The storm continued, but Buck barely noticed it anymore. His shaking subsided, and his pulse was still racing but no longer out of fear. He let himself get carried away, not just by the physical sensation of Tommy’s mouth but also the less well-known feeling of being safe. Buck had never been in any real danger, but Tommy knew the threat felt real enough, and that was what he wanted to protect Buck from. Tommy wanted to protect him and all Buck had to do was hold on.
Buck would hold on. He never wanted to let go.