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The aviation fair was in full swing, a sprawling event spread across the tarmac of a local airfield. Buck wandered a step behind Tommy, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, as Tommy led them through rows of gleaming aircraft. His boyfriend’s enthusiasm was palpable, a magnetic force pulling Buck along as Tommy pointed out various models with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning.
“Look at that!” Tommy exclaimed, practically bouncing on his heels as he gestured to a sleek jet. “That’s a Learjet 25! Absolute classic for its time—top speed of 545 miles per hour. Beautiful design, too.”
Buck grinned, though his aviation knowledge was limited to what he’d picked up from listening to Tommy’s occasional rants about helicopters and airplanes. “Looks .. fast?” he offered, which earned him a fond look from his boyfriend.
“It is fast,” Tommy said, already moving on to the next exhibit.
They passed rows of vintage planes, their polished exteriors gleaming under the midday sun. Tommy paused to point out a bright red biplane.
“That’s a Stearman Model 75,” he said, his voice full of reverence. “Used as a trainer during World War II. Pilots called it ‘The Yellow Peril’ because it was tricky to handle if you didn’t know what you were doing.”
Buck squinted at the plane. “Looks kind of like something out of an old movie.”
“Because it is,” Tommy replied with a grin. “You’ve probably seen it in a dozen films. Hollywood loves using them.”
They moved on to a military section, where Tommy practically lit up at the sight of a towering bomber. “That’s a B-17 Flying Fortress,” he said, gesturing to its massive wingspan. “They were nicknamed ‘Flying Fortresses’ because of their durability. These things could take a beating and still make it back home. Look at the ball turret underneath—that was for a gunner. Can you imagine being crammed in there mid-flight, shooting at enemy planes?”
Buck grimaced. “Sounds claustrophobic.”
“It was,” Tommy admitted, his tone turning serious. “And dangerous. The ball turret gunners had one of the deadliest jobs.”
As they moved to the experimental section, Buck’s eyes widened at the sight of a sleek, angular aircraft with almost no visible seams.
“That one looks like a spaceship,” he said, pointing to a black jet with a sharp nose and swept-back wings.
“Close,” Tommy said, his voice tinged with excitement. “That’s an SR-71 Blackbird, one of the fastest jets ever made. Could reach speeds of over 2,000 miles per hour and fly so high it was practically in the stratosphere. It was used for reconnaissance during the Cold War—flying so fast and so high that no enemy could catch it.”
Buck let out a low whistle. “Okay, that’s impressive.”
They rounded a corner and came face-to-face with a futuristic aircraft that seemed straight out of a sci-fi novel. Its smooth, triangular design shimmered faintly in the sunlight.
“Now this,” The pilot said, practically vibrating with excitement, “is an experimental stealth drone. Fully autonomous, designed to be undetectable by radar. It’s not officially in use yet—at least not that they’ve admitted—but prototypes like this show what the future of aviation might look like.”
Buck tilted his head, studying the sleek craft. “You’re saying this thing flies itself?”
“Exactly,” Tommy replied. “No pilot, no crew. Just advanced AI and sensors controlling everything.”
“Terrifying,” Buck muttered, and Tommy laughed.
“It’s the cutting edge of technology,” Tommy said. “Aviation is always evolving, and this? This is the future.”
Buck nodded along, occasionally throwing in a supportive, “Wow, really?” or “That’s wild,” while Tommy rattled off more specifications, clearly in his element. Though Buck didn’t grasp half of what his boyfriend was saying, he couldn’t help but admire the sheer passion his boyfriend had for the subject. It was infectious, even if Buck’s knowledge barely scratched the surface.
But when they turned a corner and Tommy suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, Buck knew they’d hit the jackpot.
“Is that...?” Tommy’s voice trailed off, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief.
Buck followed his gaze to a squat, unassuming helicopter painted in a muted shade of olive green. Compared to some of the sleeker aircraft around, it didn’t look like much. But the way Tommy was staring at it, Buck might as well have been standing next to the Mona Lisa.
“It’s a Westland WS-51 Dragonfly!” Tommy breathed, his eyes lighting up as he took a hesitant step forward. “Or what the Brits call a Sycamore. First British-designed helicopter to go into production. This thing is a legend.”
Buck blinked, tilting his head as he regarded the oddly shaped chopper. “It’s... neat?”
Tommy turned to him, his face split by a grin. “Neat? Evan, this helicopter paved the way for modern aviation. It was used in search-and-rescue missions, troop transport, medevacs—you name it. This thing is history.”
Buck chuckled, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets as he trailed after Tommy, who was practically skipping toward the helicopter. Once they reached it, Tommy began circling the aircraft with the reverence of a museum curator inspecting a rare artifact.
“This is incredible,” he muttered, half to himself. “Look at the rotor design. And the bubble canopy—classic 1950s aesthetic. God, I’d kill to sit in that cockpit.”
Watching Tommy nerd out was one of Buck’s favorite pastimes, it didn't happen that often. Even if he didn’t understand half of what his boyfriend was saying, the sheer joy radiating off of him was infectious.
“I don’t know what any of that means,” Buck admitted, smiling as Tommy crouched to examine the helicopter’s undercarriage. “But I love seeing you this excited.”
Tommy looked up, his grin softening into something warmer. “This is like meeting a childhood hero,” he said, patting the side of the helicopter gently.
Buck nodded, pretending to understand the depth of the moment. As Tommy continued his inspection, Buck noticed a man standing nearby, wearing a lanyard that marked him as part of the event staff. Inspiration struck.
“Wait here,” Buck said, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Tommy asked distracticly, but Buck was already walking away.
He approached the man, who introduced himself as the owner of the Sycamore. After a quick, enthusiastic conversation (and Buck’s signature charm), the man agreed to let Tommy sit in the cockpit—and, if he felt comfortable, even take the chopper for a short flight under supervision.
When Buck returned, Tommy was still marveling at the helicopter’s tail rotor.
“Hey,” Buck said casually. “Got you a little surprise.”
Tommy frowned, his curiosity piqued. “What kind of surprise?”
“Follow me.”
The pilot followed his boyfriend to the man, who introduced himself as Roger and explained the opportunity. Tommy’s jaw dropped.
“You’re serious?” he asked, turning to Buck.
Buck shrugged, though his grin gave him away. “You seemed pretty into it. Figured I’d ask if it's possible.”
Tommy stared at him, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t find the words. Finally, he grabbed Buck’s face and kissed him hard, right there on the tarmac.
“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” Tommy said breathlessly.
“I try,” the younger man replied, a little dazed but pleased with himself.
Minutes later, Tommy was seated in the Sycamore’s cockpit, his hands on the controls as Roger gave him a brief rundown. Buck stood nearby, recording the moment with his phone and watching with a mix of pride and amusement as his boyfriend soaked in every second of the experience.
“This is unbelievable,” Tommy said, his voice crackling through the radio headset. “I can’t believe I’m actually sitting here.”
“You ready to take her up?” Roger asked.
Tommy nodded, his expression transforming into one of pure concentration. With Roger’s guidance, the Sycamore’s rotor blades began to spin, and soon the helicopter was lifting off the ground.
Buck shielded his eyes from the wind still holding his phone, watching as Tommy piloted the helicopter with a steady hand. His heart swelled at the sight of his boyfriend so utterly in his element, grinning ear to ear as the Sycamore soared above the airfield.
When they landed a short while later, Tommy practically leaped out of the cockpit, his face flushed with exhilaration.
“That was amazing,” he said, running over to Buck and wrapping him in a tight hug. “You have no idea how much this means to me, Evan.”
Buck chuckled, hugging him back. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
As they walked back through the fair hand in hand, Tommy couldn’t stop talking about the flight, his excitement bubbling over into every word. Buck listened attentively, content to let his boyfriend geek out as much as he wanted.
The day had started as just another outing, but by the time they left, it had turned into one of those rare, unforgettable moments—the kind that Buck knew they’d be reminiscing about for years to come.