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The first time it’s a plan, Tommy is self-aware enough to admit that. He’s been dreading this date for weeks. It’s a classic setup, Sarah works as an x-ray tech at the same hospital as Gina, Sal’s wife. The two of them have been insisting that she’s perfect for Tommy for about three weeks now and he’s finally run out of excuses.
At least, ones that he’s willing to tell them.
Tommy arranges to meet Sarah at the restaurant, it’s for the best if she’s already planning to find her own way home, and calls Sal so the nosy fuck will finally back off. He only feels a little guilty exploiting Sal’s exhaustion—his and Gina’s toddler brought home some sort of hell-bug from daycare—when telling Sal that he’s finally going out with Sarah. It’s really not Tommy’s fault that Sal didn’t realize he’s meeting Sarah two hours before his next shift. Taking LA traffic into account, they’ll be lucky to make it through a full meal.
Tommy isn’t planning to sabotage the date or anything, he’s not that much of an asshole, but he knows…well. He’s not what this girl is looking for and she doesn’t deserve to be stuck with all the baggage Tommy’s bringing to the table. So while he’s not going to try and ruin things, he’s got a contingency for when it all goes to hell.
Which makes the evening a bit anticlimactic when everything seems to be going pretty well. It’s not amazing, Tommy doesn’t feel sparks or get lost in Sarah’s eyes, but after how much Tommy had built up the potential for disaster in his brain it’s almost disappointing how normal it feels.
Sarah is nice, funny, and has great taste in movies. They both nerd out over Inception for a while before naturally segueing into the oeuvre of Christopher Nolan. She thinks The Dark Knight is better than Memento, which is objectively a wrong opinion, but they have fun arguing the merits for a good twenty minutes while waiting for their main course.
It’s…fine.
Movie talk and good-natured complaints about overbearing friends who mean well, but treat being single as a disease they need to cure carry them through most of the meal. Tommy has to admit, he likes her. He just really, really wishes he liked her the way he was supposed to.
If they were just two friends out having dinner this would be one of the best nights out Tommy has had in, god…years. But there’s a weight to the evening, an expectation to each moment and Tommy knows he’s failing.
When the waiter comes back to ask them about getting dessert, Tommy is relieved to see a rueful hesitation in Sarah’s expression. At least he isn’t alone in not feeling a spark tonight.
“Just the check, please” Tommy quirks an eyebrow at Sarah to make sure he’s reading her correctly.
“We could stay,” Sarah offers, but it sounds polite rather than sincere.
“I’ve got a shift,” Tommy says, making sure to sound apologetic.
“Oh, then we’ll just take the check,” Sarah confirms to the waiter with a relieved smile. “Maybe we could do this again, sometime. Or catch a movie.” She turns back to Tommy, still polite.
Tommy gives a half smile, and nods absently, one eye on the waiter’s progress.
“Yeah, that could be good.” It’s an empty promise and they both know it.
They make meaningless small talk until the waiter comes back with Tommy’s credit card and he walks Sarah out to the waiting cab. With luck, she’ll report back to Gina that it was a pleasant evening, but she didn’t see it going anywhere, and he could tell Sal the same.
Tommy climbs into his truck and heads for the station.
—-
It becomes a habit, with Abby. He doesn’t mean to, but it's almost reflexive.
“I’ve got a shift,” he says, always injecting the appropriate amount of regret into the words.
Sometimes he’s telling the truth, he leaves her and heads straight to the station. And sometimes… sometimes he just needs to get away, and avoid the inevitable confrontation for a few more hours. It’s not a lie, he always manages to rationalize, he will have a shift eventually. It’s just a question of how soon that next shift is that’s a bit flexible.
It’s a shit thing to keep doing to someone he loves, and he does love her. Not well and not the way she deserves, but he loves her. She’s his best friend and the only woman he could ever imagine spending his life with and it’s still not enough.
“Tommy!” She’s properly pissed this time, they were supposed to be talking about the wedding today. He’s been putting it off, delaying the conversation again and she’s right to be angry. Christ, they’ve been engaged for two years and haven’t even set a date yet. He can’t keep doing this to her. And yet.
“What do you want me to do, Abs? I’ve-”
“Got a shift,” she parrots with him, voice flat. “Yeah.”
Tommy stops, looking at her, really looking for the first time in far too long. Abby is beautiful, always. But she’s also…tired. There are dark circles under her eyes and a stain on her shirt from lunch that she either missed or can’t find the energy to care about.
Her job is an endless drudge through the worst days of people’s lives, her mom’s health is rapidly deteriorating, and her fiance is always running out the door.
“I’m sorry.” For hurting you, for trapping us both in this cycle, for being too afraid to set us free.
Something softens in her eyes, almost as if she’s understanding what isn’t said and Tommy panics, grabbing his bag. Abby always saw too much.
“I’ll call you,” he says, turning to go.
“Tommy,” Abby calls after him, but he’s already gone. The echoes of raised voices and slammed doors, his father’s rough hands and his mother’s placating tones chasing him out of the apartment.
—-
Tommy is bad at holding on to friends. He’s worse at holding on to family, but that never bothered him as much.
Sal had been more than just a friend during their time together at the 118, he’d been a brother, and really that should have been a clue that they were doomed to drift apart.
They tried to keep in touch at first, after Sal was transferred, as much as either of them were really able to in those days. The occasional text, an infrequent drink at the bar, a double date that was doomed before it began because Sal didn’t know, couldn’t know, the truth.
Tommy’s been working at Harbor for five months when he’s woken by a banging on his front door and the long-ago familiar sound of Sal cursing at his lazy ass to get a fucking move on already.
“For fucks sake, Sal!” Tommy wrenches open the door, causing Sal to stumble inside a few steps. “Are you drunk?”
“Not yet,” Sal says, shoving a six-pack into Tommy’s chest and throwing himself onto the couch. He makes impatient grabby hands at the bottles he just handed away. Tommy rolls his eyes, pulls out two, passing one to Sal, and sits.
“What the fuck are you doing here at,” he cranes his neck to see the faintly glowing numbers on his stove, “three-fifteen in the goddam morning?”
“Gina just got off—“
“Congratulations, you woke me up to tell me you finally located the clitoris?”
“Fuck you and you’re gonna regret that joke in about two minutes,” Sal runs a tired hand across his face.
“She just got off work,” he continues as though Tommy hadn’t said anything. “Apparently the old crew came through her ER, nothing serious.” He rushes to reassure. “Although Nash could stand to get kicked in the balls by a horse.”
Tommy takes a sip of beer and grimaces, it’s some mass-produced pisswater that barely qualifies as a beer. Sal is either trying to punish him or he grabbed whatever swill was in the fridge and rushed over, and patiently waits for him to get to the point.
“Anyway, she and Hen got to chatting, you know those two always got on well enough. General stuff, how’re the kids, all that bull.” At the mention of Hen something in Tommy’s chest tightens.
He’d run into her and Karen at a bar a few weeks ago, it wasn’t his usual kind of place, but his date for the evening was friends with the bartender. A remarkably uncomfortable few minutes were finally broken by Karen’s declaration that she had her wife out on the town and Howie babysitting until morning, so they were going to order shots until everyone stopped acting like scandalized bible salesmen.
Much of the evening is a blur, but he does remember telling them both that he was officially out and it was fine by him if the rest of the old team knew, he wasn’t hiding any more.
Tommy’s mouth is suddenly dry, he braves the pisswater, desperate for something to replace the sinking sensation in his stomach.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Sal asks, softly. Knowing, in that annoying and irreplaceable way that Sal always knew, exactly what Tommy is thinking.
“I got a shift,” Tommy answers, lips numb, heartbeat loud in his ears. “We can pick this up later, yeah?”
“Bull shit, you’ve got a shift.” Sal reaches out, for all his voice is rough, his hand when it lands on Tommy’s arm is gentle. “Tommy, look at me.”
Reluctantly, Tommy does, hands clenching around the now warm bottle.
“Please understand the restraint it’s taking not to make a crack about you knowing what a clit is,” he says quietly, voice serious.
“Fuck off,” Tommy says on a startled laugh, relief making him lightheaded.
Sal lifts his, fucking terrible, beer and clinks it against Tommy’s bottle. “Gina sends her love,” he says, around a half smile.
“Give her mine,” he whispers, voice hoarse with emotion neither of them will address tonight.
—-
Tommy’s eyes stay closed for several heartbeats after he kisses Evan, he’s probably just ruined whatever connection he was starting to build here, not to mention the friendship he was forming with Eddie, and he’d rather not stare disaster in the face until he absolutely has to.
He hears a soft gasp from Evan, something gentle and he doesn’t know why, but it gives him the courage to open his eyes.
“Like that?” He asks, a slight tremble in his voice.
“Yeah, that works.” Evan is, he looks…stunned, is the only word Tommy can think of and he needs to check again.
“So that was okay?”
Evan nods, still slightly dazed. “That was better than fake mouth static.”
And Tommy can’t help but laugh, relief and something that feels far too much like hope building in his chest at the way Evan can’t seem to stop staring at his lips.
“I got a shift.” The excuse leaves his mouth before his brain is done processing the choice he’s already made to run.
Evan’s smile drops, and Tommy’s heart clenches at the disappointment in his face. He should go. He should…he needs to leave.
“Yeah, cross-town traffic, came in a car this time.” What is Tommy saying? “So what are you doing Saturday?”
“S-Saturday?” Evan stutters like he’s unfamiliar with the concept of the day, and Tommy, fuck but Tommy wants this. Wants him.
“You still owe me that beer,” Tommy reminds him. “You free?” He asks, heart pounding against his ribcage.
“Yes, I-I, I am free,” Evan replies, his smile so bright it’s practically blinding.
“Great.” Tommy turns, making his way to the door, false bravado firmly in place. He knows this mask, he wore it every day for most of his life. A little cocky, overly casual, and just charming enough to be an asshole.
He finishes making arrangements for their date, reminds Evan to call Eddie and leaves, closing the door behind him. Tommy makes it halfway down the hall towards the elevators before he has to stop, leaning against the wall, taking in huge, gulping breaths of air until his heart rate slows.
It doesn’t take too long, he actually does have a shift tonight.
—-
When it comes to the fight or flight response, Tommy has never chosen fight in his life. War doesn’t count, that’s just his life on the line. But when it really matters, when his heart is the thing in jeopardy, Tommy runs every time.
He will never regret anything more than running from Evan.
He didn’t even manage to save his heart. All he did was hurt them both.
This time he’s trying to do better, to do it right. When Ravi points him in Evan’s direction at the bar, it’s like every prayer he’s ever made for a second chance is being answered. And when Evan invites him to come back to his place, Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He will be brave.
He doesn’t even let the fact that Evan is now living at Diaz’ house shake his resolve, Tommy stays the night and in the morning he makes breakfast, ready to risk his heart for one more chance at having Evan in his life.
Stupid.
This was always going to happen.
“You know, I don’t have to sleep with everyone I have feelings for, and I don’t have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with.”
That is…very clear.
“Got it.” Tommy nods slightly, he can feel himself shutting down, locking that awful hope away where it can’t hurt anyone.
“Woah-oh, um. Wait hey, w-what’s happening?” Evan asks. He probably didn’t mean to be so harsh, Evan’s never been cruel. But Tommy’s no stranger to saying something in the heat of the moment that you wish you’d taken the time to soften. Just because he didn’t want to crush Tommy, doesn’t make what he said any less true.
“I have a shift later.” He’s never been so grateful for how easily the lie slips from his lips. Tommy keeps his eyes off Evan, focused on rinsing out his coffee cup, erasing his footprints before he goes.
“Tommy—”
“Evan, thank you for last night, it was fun.” Get out, get out, get out, the unrelenting drumbeat of his heart urges. He ignores the crestfallen look on Evan’s face, the plea in his voice, he knows better. He should have known better.
—-
“Buckley, what are you doing here?” Donato’s voice rings out through the hanger and Tommy freezes, halfway inside an engine.
“I need to talk to Tommy,” Evan answers, it sounds like he’s moving fast, past Lucy and straight to Tommy, who has for some reason decided to act like Evan’s sight works on T-Rex rules.
“He’s working on—”
“Yeah, I see him,” Evan interrupts. “I’d know that ass anywhere.”
Tommy isn’t sure if that was meant to be an insult or a compliment and Evan’s tone isn’t giving him any hints. Gingerly, he extracts himself from the inner workings of his chopper, pointlessly wiping at the grease stains on his skin. He hasn’t seen Evan since their ill-advised hookup a couple days ago, and now he’s standing in front of his ex in dirty coveralls with engine grease smeared all over his face like a toddler who hasn’t mastered the napkin.
“Evan,” he starts, but quickly snaps his jaw shut, teeth clacking, as Evan storms up to him.
“I’m not in love with Eddie.”
Tommy’s eyes dart around, the confrontation isn’t drawing a crowd, but his coworkers are conspicuous in their attempts to feign work near enough to hear what’s being said without getting caught in the crossfire.
“I’m on shift—“
“I’m aware.” And is Evan going to let him finish a sentence at all today, or…okay, that glare says Tommy should keep his bitchier comments to himself for the moment.
“I figured it would be harder for you to run away to some mythical shift if we were already here.” Evan’s logic is annoyingly hard to argue with.
“Fine.” Tommy says through gritted teeth. If Evan wants this particular showdown, then that’s what he’ll get. Tommy’s usual retreat is unusable and his helicopter is literally grounded, Evan timed his ambush well.
“I don’t think you’re in love with Eddie,” he says. “I think you’re in love with the idea of being in love with someone like Eddie.”
Evan steps back, and Tommy instantly regrets opening his mouth. There’s a reason he runs first, gets a handle on what he wants to say before it can harm anyone else.
“I think you’re just afraid to let me love you,” Evan snaps back, ignoring Tommy’s point in favor of digging into his soft underbelly.
“I’m never going to be him!” Tommy can talk past valid criticism with the best of them, even if Evan’s solid hit leaves him blinking away inconvenient tears.
“I don’t want him!” Evan cries, finally meeting Tommy on his chosen battlefield.
“No,” Tommy laughs, all jagged edges. “You just want the house and the kid and the lifetime of easy friendship and devotion.”
Evan’s lips part, his tongue darting out to wet them, and Tommy hates how he can’t help but track the movement, even now. “What’s wrong with wanting that?”
“Because, I’m not the guy who gets to have those things,” Tommy rasps, broken.
Shit. They’re both going to leave the field bloody, and Tommy never deluded himself that he’d be the victor, but a self-inflicted wound while proving Evan’s point for him is downright amateur.
“Tommy,” Evan presses forward, anger draining away. “You’ll never get them, if you don’t try.”
And that’s not…Tommy is down, he should be going for the kill, not—
Evan raises a steady hand to Tommy’s cheek, long fingers wrapping around to catch at the soft hairs on his neck, digging in just enough to feel the reassuring pressure of Evan’s grip.
“I didn’t mean it.” He whispers into the still air between them. “Not the way it sounded. I-I was angry, and I wanted to hurt you, but I didn’t mean it like that.”
“How did you mean it?” Tommy is bleeding out and Evan’s grip is the only thing holding him together.
“I love Eddie, but I don’t want to sleep with him, it’s never been romantic. He’s my best friend. And I love him, and he will always be important to me, but as my best friend.”
“And the other part?”
“I spent a lot of time sleeping with anyone who would have me,” Evan shrugs. “I’m not interested in going back to that.”
Tommy can hear the question behind the statement, the implication that Tommy had treated Evan like something disposable. To be used for a good time and then discarded when he was done.
“Evan—” Get out, get out, get out. That old fear is rising again, urging him to run.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he chokes out.
“Do what?” Evan asks, still too soft for everything that Tommy has done to him.
Tommy risks moving closer, placing his own trembling hand across Evan’s where it still lays steady on his cheek.
“Want something enough to fight for it.” Tommy closes his eyes against the truth of his words, as if not seeing them land will protect him from their fallout. “But I want to. I want to fight for you.”
A gentle puff of air, the startled exhale of a breath held, brushes his chin and Tommy’s eyes fly open once more.
Evan is…Evan is beaming. And it’s….
Evan told him once about sunflowers, how they follow the course of the sun during the day, turning their blossoms to face it. Heliotropism, it’s called. There are other flowers that do it too, daisies and some marigolds, but he’d been on a van Gogh kick and that had led to the sunflowers.
Tommy gets it now, the need to constantly turn your face to something so brilliant, and how its absence could cause you to turn inwards, close yourself off, until you see it once again.
“I love you,” Evan says, and Tommy has to blink, to clear his eyes. “I should have told you months ago when I asked you to move in, and I should have told you two days ago, and I want to tell you every day that we have together.”
They startle apart as a crash that sounds like every pot and pan in the station rings out behind them.
“Sorry!” It’s their probie, and he’s about to be gutted going by the scowl on Donoto’s face.
“Shit, I should probably,” Tommy gestures to where Donoto stomped off, “keep her from killing the new guy.”
“Right, yeah,” Evan says, grin dimming.
It’s his out, perfectly timed and no one could blame him for taking it. All he has to do is go.
“Fuck it,” Tommy mutters. He grabs Evan, pulling him close for a biting kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than the gentle caress the moment deserves. “I love you,” he breathes against Evan’s lips.
They hear a brief shriek from the direction of Donoto and the probie, Tommy shrugs, turning back to Evan’s deep and distracting kisses.
“Hey,” Evan says, pulling back, lips swollen and red. “What are you doing Saturday?”