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Tommy double checks his messages as he walks into the building. He laughs fondly at the way Howie described this Evan Buckley—goes by 'Buck'—as if he was a victim needing transport and not his brother-in-law who needed a ride home after his colonoscopy and endoscopy.
Tommy spots him right away in the half-filled waiting room. Brown hair (and soft curls Tommy wants to sink his fingers into)? Check. Pink birthmark set over (probably) blue eyes? Check. And he was easily six-two—he was massive even sitting down—but Howie failed to mention the guy was 85% legs.
As he walks toward Buck, Tommy's glad he's not meeting him on a call.
"Buck?"
Buck seems to look everywhere except at him.
"Evan?"
He finally looks at Tommy. Whispers "whoa."
Their eyes meet (blue doesn't do them justice).
"Uh yeah—Evan—that's me."
Evan it is. "I'm Tommy. Howie—Chimney's friend. He asked me to pick you up?"
"Tommy." He says it like they're old lovers who've just reunited. He stands up and smiles at Tommy.
Tommy is trying—and failing—not to notice how the pink of Evan's birthmark matches his plush lips.
Evan sighs and says, "my hero," and before Tommy can so much as blink Evan's lips are on his cheek, just shy of his mouth.
Tommy steps back. "Let's get you home."
"Yeah. Take me home, Tommy." Evan stumbles over his own legs, reminding Tommy of a baby deer.
Tommy chuckles. “Guess those legs are just for show, huh?” Christ—what's gotten in to him? He has half a mind to ask what they're pumping out of their air vents.
Evan doesn't seem to notice—already bounding for the door.
Tommy hurries to catch up.
Tommy stares at his car's dashboard like it's his first time seeing it—like it's some complicated spaceship panel he's been tasked with captaining. He's got ringing in his ears and the only explanation can be that he's suddenly developed tinnitus in the last half hour despite having better hearing than anyone who flies helicopters for a living ought to have. It certainly can't be because of the incredibly attractive man in his passenger seat. Yet here he is, staring at the words 'on' and 'off' and 'accessory' like they're runes he's trying to decipher.
Tommy thinks he finally understands the phrase 'useless gay.'
He glances at Evan—secured in the passenger seat and seemingly oblivious to the fact that there's no room to spare in the footwell. Tommy has to curl his hands over the steering wheel so he doesn't reach between Evan's impossibly long legs to grab the slider and push the seat back himself.
Evan's more alert than he'd been inside the clinic, but still obviously loopy. Tommy nods to the center console. "There's water and mints and a protein bar. And I have a charger if you need it. You'll let me know if you're too hot or cold?" Evan just nods and smiles dopily at him.
And Tommy wants to brain himself on the steering wheel he's clutching so tight the leather now has half-moon indents. He was trying to make Evan feel as comfortable as possible being picked up by a stranger while under the effect of Propofol—not sound like he was hoping for a 5-star rating.
It's like he's forgotten how to be a person all of a sudden. In Tommy's defense, he's not used to having passengers. As he starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot, he tries not to notice how good Evan looks riding shotgun. "You can change the radio station if you want. Or there's CDs under your seat."
Evan pulls out the binder of CDs and flips through them. "Who even owns CDs anymore? You know, there's this thing called Bluetooth."
Tommy stops at the light and looks at Evan—who's looking back with a teasing smile—and, oh…he could be so much trouble if Tommy let him.
"You can pry my CDs from my cold, dead hands." Evan laughs like Tommy's the first person to ever tell a joke and Tommy doesn't even try to hide his pleased smile.
They're halfway to their destination by the time Evan makes a choice. He makes a quiet, interested noise as he pulls the CD from the sleeve and puts it in the player.
Tommy immediately recognizes "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me." He drums the beat on the steering wheel. "Batman Forever is an excellent choice. One of my favorites."
"I've never seen it, I just thought it looked cool."
"More of a Superman fan, then?"
Evan ducks his head and blushes. "Hey, has anyone ever told you you look like him?"
"Superman? No, I don't think anybody ever has."
"Well, they were definitely thinking it."
Tommy smiles. "You say whatever's on your mind, don't you?"
Evan hums his assent, but otherwise stays quiet.
Tommy reaches out and touches his arm. "Hey, it's a good thing."
Evan smiles and his eyes are brighter than they were seconds before. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I promise." Tommy turns down the music. They're almost to Evan's apartment, but Tommy encourages him to keep talking.
They make it into Evan's apartment without incident. Luck was on Tommy's side: he got a parking spot right out front and the elevator was working.
Tommy shuts the door behind them. "Can I get you something to eat or drink?" He asks Evan like it's not his apartment.
"I'm tired." Evan starts up the stairs—which quite frankly look dangerous even for someone who hadn't just been sedated hours earlier—tripping on the second one up.
"Easy, Evan." Tommy rushes to his side.
Evan turns and frowns like his legs have betrayed him. "Stairs are hard."
Tommy chuckles. "Yeah, you've had a big day. Why don't we get you settled on the couch? It looks comfy enough."
Evan nods. "Yeah, okay."
Tommy steadies him—his hand on Evan's waist. "I've got you."
Evan giggles. "You've got me? Who's got you?"
Tommy laughs. He helps Evan down the stairs. "I'm sorry to disappoint you kid, but the only flying I can do is in a helicopter."
Evan's face lights up. "That's so cool." Then he frowns. "I don't think I've ever done anything that cool."
Yeah, sometimes flying does make Tommy feel like he's got superpowers, but it's never felt like this. "I can give you lessons if you want."
"Really?"
"Sure. My fees are competitive."
Evan's grin widens. "You should let me buy you a beer."
"I'd love that. But you shouldn't have alcohol for at least twenty-four hours, so I'll have to take a raincheck."
Evan's smile falters, but he agrees. "I guess I'll accept some water for now."
Tommy shakes his head, but can't fight his smile. He orders Evan to the couch and goes to the kitchen.
Evan thanks him for the water and then asks him to stay. He looks up at Tommy—with eyes a shade of blue he would have sworn only existed in the sky. They keep him in place—like an insect pinned to balsa wood.
He doesn't know why Evan asks.
He knows even less why he says yes.
Evan startles awake, wiping his chin and blushing. He blinks and smiles—a newfound shyness in his expression. "I kind of thought I dreamed you. Not you uh specifically, just uh—sorry I drooled on you."
"It's okay, Evan." It feels like something's shifted Tommy doesn't know where to go from here. "I should go.
"Right. Sorry I kept you all day."
Tommy's only sorry he can't keep him longer, but he bites his tongue and stands before he can do something incredibly stupid by saying so.
Evan follows him to the door. He has the nerve to look at Tommy like he'd follow him anywhere.
"Let me know if you still want the tour. You have my number."
Evan pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and laughs. "I guess I never got your last name? I'm assuming it's not 'he has a cleft'?"
Tommy laughs. "It's Kinard."
And there's that look again. "It's nice meeting you, Tommy Kinard." Evan furrows his brow. "Oh my god, I kissed you. I'm sorry, I've never—"
"Been under general anesthesia?"
"Huh? Oh no, I uh had my leg crushed by a fire engine a few years back and had to have two surgeries."
Tommy's jaw slacks. "That was you?"
"Uh, yeah." Evan rubs the back of his neck. "I meant I've never kissed a dude."
"No? A good-looking dude like yourself?"
Evan laughs. He takes a deep breath and says, "I didn't even know that's something I wanted to do."
"Oh."
"Is that…bad?"
"Of course not, Evan."
"Okay, good."
”Is that something you’d want to do again?”
"With you? Yeah, I think so."
Tommy nods. "What are you doing Saturday?"
"Uh, Saturday?"
"You still owe me that beer."
"That's right. Pick me up at eight?" Evan tilts his head and smiles and Tommy knows that this time the gesture is deliberate.
Even big, strong firefighter pilots have their kryptonite. "Eight is great."
Tommy's staring at Evan's contact on his phone like a lovelorn idiot as he walks down the hall when Howie calls him.
They have a running joke about Tommy's life debt; Howie saved Tommy's life and now Howie gets to call in favors for the rest of his.
In reality, neither of them is actually keeping score. Howie calls Tommy when he needs him and Howie—after all these years—still has faith Tommy will do the same.
Tommy usually doesn't, but Howie always seems to show up in his own way somehow.
"Kinard Taxi Service."
Howie laughs. "You're hilarious man. Hey. we gotta get together soon. No excuses. How's Buck?"
Tommy stops at the elevators, presses the call button, and looks down the hall as he waits. "Evan's fine,” he grounds out.
"Oh, it's 'Evan' is it?"
He thinks of the way Evan had brightened when Tommy said his name—Evan, not Buck. Of observant, sky blue eyes and coltish legs. "Christ, Howie, you could have warned me."
"Warned you about what? That he's talkative, clumsy, an overgrown puppy?"
The elevator dings and the doors open. He steps inside. "That he's exactly my type."
"Huh. Who would have known."
Tommy rolls his eyes and scoffs.
"And are you his?"
Tommy catches his reflection in the mirror and it looks far too hopeful over somebody he just met, but when has his heart ever listened to his head? He still feels the ghost of Evan's lips on his cheek. "God, I hope so."