Work Text:
Tommy
Tommy hates riding the bus.
He absolutely wouldn’t be on the bus if his truck hadn’t crapped out and the replacement part he needs to make it drivable again wasn’t been on back order.
But it was either the bus or Ubering to and from work every day and when Tommy crunches the numbers he realises that the bus really is the only viable option if he doesn’t want to have to suspend his membership to his gym for as long as it takes for that part to come in. God Ubers got pricey.
So, yeah, bus it is.
And he hates the economical bastard.
There's the lack of control for one thing. Probably something he should unpack with a therapist if Tommy was the therapy sort of guy. If he wasn’t afraid that one whiff of needing mental health support outside of department mandated sessions would ruin his chances at transferring to Harbor and becoming a pilot again.
Then there's the bus’s smell: a bit sweaty, a hint of mildew, random food smells, sometimes even used diaper which is delightful. Tommy’s come across a lot of rancid smells in his days with the LAFD but there are some days when the bus is the absolute worst combination of things he’s ever had the displeasure to inhale to the point where he’s thought about grabbing an old respirator from the station and wearing it home. Except that would stand out too much, wouldn’t it. And if there’s anything Tommy hates, it’s standing out.
There’s also the noise of strangers trying not to notice one another and the fact that a seat isn't always guaranteed which is murder after a twenty-four-hour shift.
But there is one silver lining to riding the bus that Tommy discovered on his first day of being unceremoniously forced to use public transport. Or rather, one six-foot-two, human ray of sunshine.
What catches Tommy’s eye is the way the kid – he’s maybe in his mid-twenties but the spring in his step makes Tommy’s aching thirty-three years feel ancient – helps a man with a cane hold his bags while he digs through his pocket for his bus pass. The kid doesn’t look impatient or put out. His smile spreads across his face like he’s genuinely thrilled to be of help.
And it doesn’t stop there. The kid keeps hold of the other man’s groceries, giving a teenager the stink eye until she slinks out of the priority seat at the front of the bus to make room for the man with the cane to sit.
Tommy covers his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud at how quickly the kid’s smile drops into guard dog mode before quickly snapping back into place once the man with the cane is seated.
They’re standing close enough together on the crowded bus that Tommy overhears the steady stream of chatter the kid exchanges with the man with the cane. There’s nothing self-conscious about the way the kid talks about being new to LA or how he doesn’t usually take the bus, but he can’t afford to get his Jeep fixed right now because he’s saving up for the fire academy. And yeah, looking at the kid with his biceps bulging against the confines of his t-shirt, Tommy can see him as a firefighter.
Tommy has to bite his lip to keep from offering to fix the kid’s car for free. To give him pointers for the Academy. Tell him which houses to avoid if he wants any chance at surviving his probie year.
Because that wouldn’t weird the kid out at all, would it? A complete stranger offering to help him based on an overheard conversation?
So, Tommy keeps his lips pressed tightly closed and tries not to listen in.
“I’m Evan, by the way,” the kid says when the man with the cane requests a stop. Evan returns the man’s bags to him after having his offer to help the man home politely declined.
“Thanks for all your help, Evan. Take care,” the man with the cane departs.
Tommy watches as a brief wave of loneliness passes over Evan’s face. It’s quickly replaced by a forced smile before Evan pops some earbuds in and pulls an Academy study guide out of his bag.
Tommy’s so engrossed in watching Evan’s look of concentration and wondering what part of the study guide he’s up to that Tommy almost misses his stop.
Maybe the bus isn’t so bad after all if there are hot good Samaritans.
Buck
Buck’s still getting used to LA, just like he’s still getting used to being called “Buck” now. He likes the nickname, but it doesn’t quite feel like him yet. Like he hasn’t quite earned it.
Maybe it’d be easier if the Jeep was driveable. Then he could drive around and familiarise himself with the city in those spare hours between the Academy and bartending and catching a few snatches of sleep.
That said, Buck likes riding the bus a lot more than he thought he would. He likes getting to chat with people from all walks of life (okay, maybe not all walks of life. He has a hard time picturing any A list stars willingly taking the bus).
And there’s the guy with the cleft.
Buck’s not sure what it is about him, but whenever they happen to be on the same bus, Buck can’t help but sneak looks.
He’s tall, maybe a little taller than Buck, with dark curls and deep blue eyes. Buck likes the way his nose looks in profile and the cut of his cheek bones and his cleft. Why is Buck so obsessed with some random guy of the bus’s chin?
He’s fit too. Like this dude’s workout routine must be something else because Buck’s trying but he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get his arms and pecs to look like that.
Buck’s midway through his third week at the Academy and his brain feels like it’s about to dribble out his ears. Sure he’s used to hard work – he almost became a Navy SEAL after all – but there’s something different about the fire academy that sets it apart. All he wants to do is go back to the sharehouse, shove some earplugs in and crash, but first, he’s got to get home.
The bus is more crowded than it’s ever been before to the point where Buck wonders if it’s over legal capacity, but he hasn’t exactly read up on LA’s bus ordinances so he can’t say for sure. He has to wade through the press to find an empty pocket of space big enough to squeeze himself into and be able to grab the overhead bar. No chances to help any people with disability today or practice his Spanish with the Abuela he’s gotten to know over the last few weeks who always does her grocery shopping at the same time every day.
He doubts there’ll be any chances to meet new people either given that everyone in the crowd seems to want to just stare at their phones until they can finally get off and out of the press. And Buck can’t blame them. It’s not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world. Or the best smelling.
Except, there is one scent that catches Buck’s attention and not in a bad way. It’s like smoke under a layer of cedar. Like a campfire in the Rocky Mountains
Buck looks up and finds himself face-to-face and nearly nose-to-nose with the source of the smell. It’s the guy with the cleft. If Buck steps forward an inch, their chests will touch. He’s not sure why that’s a thing he desperately wants.
“Hi,” Buck says. Though he has no idea why. Even he knows better than to start chatting with a complete stranger when they’re pressed together like sardines on a too-hot bus. But there’s something about this guy that Buck can’t quite put his finger on. Something that makes Buck want to strike up a conversation even though a crowded LA bus is probably the worst place in the world for that sort of thing.
Well, maybe not the absolute worst, but it’s gotta be up there.
But instead of frowning at Buck or acting like he’s annoyed, the guy’s face crinkles into the softest smile Buck’s ever seen in his life. “Hey,” the guy replies.
Heat rises in Buck’s cheeks. The guy’s got a nice voice. Sure, Buck’s only heard that single syllable but there’s a part of him that thinks he could listen to the guy say “hey” on repeat until the end of time and never get bored of it.
The bus lurches and Buck falls against the guy’s chest. He tries to back up a bit, but there’s no room. “Sorry,” he murmurs. Though now he’s surrounded by the guy’s scent and it’s heavenly.
“It’s fine,” the guy says. “It was really nice what you did for that man the other day, helping him with his bags.”
Buck frowns. It takes him a moment to remember what the guy could be talking about but then it clicks. Afterwards, Buck went home and worried he’d been too pushy. That guy was probably perfectly capable of carrying his own bags on the bus and advocating for himself when it came to teenagers sitting in the priority seats. He was probably annoyed with Buck for butting in.
“You don’t think I was too much of a busy body?” Buck asks.
The guy frowns. “No,” he says. “I think you were kind, and you don’t see a lot of kindness in this city.”
Buck glances down to hide his pleased smile and catches sight of the logo on the guy’s too-tight tee shirt. He was too distracted by the muscles underneath to notice the logo earlier. “No way, you’re LAFD? I’m training at the academy right now.”
The guy smiles. “Now, ain’t that a coincidence.” And then the guy introduces himself and offers to help Buck with his training if he likes. “I’m working on certifying to fly air support.”
“No way,” Buck says. “That’s so cool.”
Tommy laughs.
And maybe Buck wants to make Tommy laugh some more.
The talk until Buck has to get off at his stop and it’s only when Buck finally gets home that he realises that he and Tommy never actually exchanged numbers.
Tommy
Weeks pass where Tommy gets to talk with Evan on the bus after every shift. Then the part for his truck arrives and weeks more pass where he procrastinates fixing it because fixing his truck means he no longer has an excuse to see Evan on the bus.
But eventually, he gets around to replacing the part and Tommy’s truck is fixed and perfectly drivable again, but somehow, he finds himself actually wanting to ride the bus, just on the off-chance that he’ll get to see Evan. That they’ll get to talk again.
Tommy’s being ridiculous.
There have got to be easier ways to arrange a “random” meeting with the kid than riding the bus on the off-chance their schedules line up.
But he thinks that maybe showing up at the academy out of the blue might come across as a bit stalker-y. Never mind that Tommy has a perfectly legitimate reason for being there what with him working on being so close to certifying as an LAFD pilot. But still, he doesn’t want to do anything to make Evan uncomfortable. So, Tommy rides the bus.
They chat, standing side by side, sway closer and closer with the bus’s movement to the point where Tommy has to physically hold himself back from leaning in and kissing Evan in broad daylight on public transportation.
It’s torture and it’s heaven and Tommy wants more but he also doesn’t want anything to change because surely this easy conversation can’t last if Evan learns more about Tommy. If Evan finds out Tommy’s gay and has the biggest crush on him. If Evan learns that Tommy’s no where near as cool and as brave and as badass as Evan seems to think.
If anything, Evan’s the badass, travelling the way he has. Daring to try to build a life for himself in a new city, to carve out space. Evan’s the brave one, the way he throws himself into conversations with random strangers on the bus, always offering to help when he thinks there’s a need.
It makes Tommy want to be a better person, watching Evan with other people.
It also makes Tommy want to horde Evan all to himself.
Which is dangerous.
And new.
Tommy’s never let himself think that way about another man before. Hell, he’s barely started being fine with thinking of himself as gay. Tommy knows he needs to try to get over this crush and that the easiest way would be to stop riding the bus. To stop seeing Evan.
But he can’t.
Every morning when he boards the bus he tells himself that this is the last day. That the next day he’ll take his truck. Every time, Tommy knows he’s lying.
Except now it’s his last shift at the 118 and he can’t take the bus anymore because Harbor Station isn’t on this route and Tommy’s not sure how he’s going to tell Evan goodbye.
That day, the bus is blessedly quiet. There are two seats side-by-side. Tommy claims one, dumping his duffle on the other to reserve it for Evan. He hopes the bus doesn’t fill up too quickly before Evan gets on. Because if it does he’ll definitely have to give up both seats just to avoid the possibility of disappointing Evan with his selfishness.
The bus stays quiet.
Plenty of open seats.
For once, everything goes Tommy’s way.
“Evan!” Tommy calls when the kid boards the bus. “Saved you a seat!” He moves his duffle onto his lap, barely managing to suppress a pleased grin as Evan settles in beside him, their shoulders press together. “How was training today?”
Evan’s grin grows even broader as he launches into a detailed description of the practice burns they ran through today. Smoke tinges Evan’s scent, mixed with his body spray and soap. Tommy tries not to find it intoxicating.
Sure, Tommy’s accepted that he’s gay. Took him long enough. But acceptance doesn’t mean he’s ready for anything and Evan’s just about the straightest guy he’s ever seen. Seriously, he knows far too much about Evan’s sex life considering their only interactions have taken place on a public bus.
Doesn’t change the fact that Tommy’s got a big fat crush on this sunshine kid. Or the fact that he could listen to Evan ramble for hours on end and never get annoyed. Or that warm feeling he gets when he doesn’t have to self-censor his bitchier side because Evan gets him and his sense of humour like no one ever has before.
“Um, so I was wondering,” Evan’s tone takes on a hesitancy that Tommy’s not used to hearing from him. Tommy doesn’t like it. Evan should always be his cocky, confident, impulsive self and Tommy wants to fight whoever it is that made Evan feel like he couldn’t ask for favours.
“What’s up?” Tommy asks, trying to keep his tone light and curious.
“Um, so I’m graduating the Academy soon,” Evan says. “And I was wondering if you wanted to celebrate with me.”
Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. His instinct is to say “yes, of course,” but he’s had decades of practice supressing his instincts and it’s only been a few months since he’s stopped lying to himself about a fundamental fact of his own nature. Hell, he’s still lying by omission to his team. Sure, he hasn’t been talking about any “girlfriends” recently, but he also hasn’t come out to any of them. Not even Hen, who probably clocked him on her very first day. The point is, that old fear rears its ugly head and instead of saying he’d love to celebrate Evan graduating from the academy, he says, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Tommy regrets it immediately when Evan’s face falls and he straightens his spine as though pulling himself together physically. “You’re right,” he says. “I mean what was I thinking? We’re practically strangers. Just two guys who met on the bus.”
“Evan,” Tommy tries to apologise, but the words won’t come and it’s too late anyway because Evan’s grabbed his backpack and requested a stop. He moves to the front of the bus and Tommy doesn’t want to pressure Evan by chasing after him.
It’s nowhere close to where Evan usually gets off.
“Way to go, Kinard,” Tommy thunks his head against the bus window in self-reproach. He didn’t even get a chance to tell Evan that he won’t be able to ride the bus anymore because of his transfer.
Buck
Tommy’s not on the bus next time Buck catches it.
Buck wants to apologise to Tommy for crossing a line, being too much, but he guesses it makes sense that Tommy wouldn’t want to see him. God, why does Buck always do this: come on too strong and scare people away?
He’s such an idiot.
No wonder Maddie didn’t want to leave Hershey with him.
It was stupid of Buck to assume that he and Tommy were actually friends when they never even exchanged phone numbers. They were just a step above strangers, hardly even acquaintances. Buck got ahead of himself because he was excited to meet someone who was doing what he wanted to do. Because Tommy was cool and interesting and seemed interested in Buck. But of course, Buck totally misread the entire situation and assumed Tommy also thought they were friends and now Tommy’s not even on the bus.
Buck can’t even apologise for overstepping.
He tries to shake off his disappointment as he finishes off the last few days of his training. It’s not like he’s never done this before: read too much into a casual relationship or an acquaintanceship. He’s always been selfish that way, wanting connection that’s more than others are willing to give.
Buck’s not sure why he bothers getting his hopes up. Why he assumes that someday things will change, and he’ll find someone who actually wants him.
Hasn’t life proven to him over and over that that’s just not in the cards for him?
Sure, Buck hopes that maybe things will be different once he’s graduated and settled in at his new station. And maybe that’s his problem, that he’s always hoping for something to change only to be disappointed when it inevitably doesn’t.
Still, Tommy’s rejection feels different to when he was on the ranch or SEALs training and the guys there made it clear they didn’t want to be friends.
No, this feels more like when the girl who taught Buck to surf in Virginia Beach told him he was being too clingy and it was only supposed to be casual anyway. It stings in the same way, thinking about Tommy.
Which is weird, right?
Because it’s not like Buck’s been dating Tommy. They’re just two dudes who met on a crowded bus.
And yet, Buck feels that ache in his chest. That yearning. That wondering if things could have been different. If there could have been something there. Something beautiful and intimate.
Sure, Buck loves women, has always loved women, but with Tommy, he’s starting to think that maybe he loves men too. That maybe the fact that he checks out hot guys at the gym means he’s not as straight as he’s always assumed.
That maybe he wants to do more with Tommy than see him every few days on a bus.
Now he’ll never know because he’ll probably never see Tommy again, right?
Tommy
Tommy never thought he’d find himself missing riding the bus, but here he is, stuck in LA traffic on his way home from a shift at Harbor, wishing that he was back on that crowded, load, hot, stinking bus rather than in his air conditioned truck listening to his own music because Evan was there.
Evan with his pale blue eyes and his adorable birthmark and his delightful curls and his earnestness. Evan who’d looked so crestfallen and dejected when Tommy said it was a bad idea to celebrate Evan’s graduation with him.
“Idiot!” It’s been days and Tommy still wants to bash his skull into the wall every time he thinks about it. Would it have been so terrible to say “yes, of course?” What’s the worst that could have happened?
Well, the worst that could’ve happened was Tommy getting his hopes up caught in Evan’s charm only to have them dashed time and time again when confronted with Evan’s heterosexuality.
So, yes, it’s better this way.
Better to cut ties before Tommy can fall completely and make an utter fool of himself while also getting his heart broken.
At least, that’s what Tommy’s been trying to tell himself.
He’s thinking in circles when he spots a city bus ahead of him in the street it’s approaching an intersection but a delivery van on the perpendicular street doesn’t seem like the driver’s noticed. The van’s not slowing down even though the bus has the green light.
Tommy swears and pulls into a parking space as the van slams into the side of the bus. He fishes his phone out and calls in the collision almost before it’s finished happening.
As the screeching of metal twisting fades, Tommy runs up to the scene. The driver of the van is stumbling around with a head wound so Tommy has him sit on a curb under the watchful eye of a bystander. Then Tommy faces the bus.
It’s on its side, wheels spinning so the driver’s likely unconscious, foot on the accelerator. The door is underneath the bus, inaccessible and the backend has spun off the side of the road, emergency door blocked by the cars parked there.
Tommy doesn’t have any tools on him since he hasn’t put his emergency kit back in his truck after it being out of commission for so long, but he has the safety hammer he keeps in his glove compartment.
With all other exits inaccessible and no tools to cut away the front windshield, Tommy climbs up on the hood of the van and scrambles onto the side of the bus that’s facing up. There’s a woman trying to open the window, blood from a cut on her forehead streaming into her eyes.
“Get back!” Tommy shouts. He lifts the safety hammer he grabbed from his glovebox and motions for the woman to get away.
It takes a couple tries, but eventually the message comes across and Tommy breaks the window.
Safety glass shatters, showering down on the empty seats below. “Is anyone hurt?” Tommy calls.
“The driver!” A familiar voice calls.
Evan.
In the chaos, Tommy hadn’t realised this was the bus route Evan took between home and the academy.
That this was Evan’s bus.
That Evan might be hurt.
Tommy’s training flies out of the window on wings of fear. He shimmies into the bus and rushes against the crowd of passengers looking to escape through the hole he made. He finds Evan at the font of the bus, unharmed as far as Tommy call tell except for a cut above his eye that’s already scabbing over. He’s with the driver, holding her neck steady.
“Evan, you okay?” Tommy asks. “Are you hurt?”
Evan’s got a look of concentration that Tommy’s never seen on him before and it’s like getting a glimpse of the firefighter that Evan will someday become. Like this is something he was born to.
“I’m good,” Evan says. “The driver’s unconscious. I’m not sure about injuries.”
“You’re doing good keeping her neck stabilised,” Tommy says. He checks the driver’s pulse and airways and doesn’t find any immediate issues so then he reaches over her and turns off the ignition. “Keeping holding her head and let’s lay her flat.” Tommy says, using his utility knife to cut away the driver’s seat belt.
Carefully, he and Evan work to get the driver stabilised.
“What now?” Evan asks.
“Now we wait for the paramedics,” Tommy says.
Evan nods.
Now that they’re not actively helping anyone, Evan’s not looking at Tommy. His shoulders are hunched, like he’s trying not to take up too much of Tommy’s space and Tommy kicks himself again.
Tommy should apologise for turning Evan down and disappearing. He should explain the transfer, that he’s been wanting to reach out to Evan for weeks, but before he can find the words, the 122 shows up, a familiar face appearing in the broken window. “Kinard, is that you?”
“Over here, Deluca,” Tommy calls, not entirely sure how he feels about seeing his old partner. They haven’t spoken since the transfer. Tommy feels guilty about not reaching out, but now isn’t the time for that. “One victim, female, Hispanic, mid-forties. Unconscious. Laceration to the forehead, possible spinal injury. Airways clear, racing pulse.”
“Got it,” Sal says. “My team’ll take over. Why don’t you two get out of here?”
One of the 122 medics appears and puts a C-collar on the driver while Sal works to open a hole in the bus big enough to bring a backboard through.
Evan leaves.
Tommy follows Evan out of the broken window, trying to think of the best way to get Evan to listen to his apology. “Do you need a ride?” Tommy asks, pointing towards his parked truck.
Evan hesitates. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s no trouble, Evan,” Tommy says. “Really.”
“Okay,” Evan says. He follows Tommy to the truck and inputs his address into the GPS.
Silence.
Tommy finally manages to string together a mental apology and is about to say it out loud when Evan says, “I’m sorry if I came on too strong,” he says. “I, uh, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I would’ve apologised sooner but you weren’t on the bus and I, uh, don’t have your number.”
“You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable,” Tommy says. “You didn’t come on too strong. It was perfectly reasonable for you to invite me to your graduation. And I haven’t been avoiding you, Evan. I just never got the chance to tell you that my transfer went through. That was always going to be my last day on the bus.”
“So, why’d you say it was a bad idea to celebrate my graduation?” Evan asks. There’s something hopefully cautious in his tone now.
“I was worried about making you feel uncomfortable, Evan,” Tommy says.
“Really, why?” Evan asks.
Tommy thinks about coming up with some kind of excuse, maybe telling Evan that he didn’t want to get in the way of Evan celebrating with his real friends, but no, he’s going to be brave. “Because I really like you Evan and I’m not sure I can keep hanging out with you if you don’t like me back.”
Tommy holds his breath.
This is a different kind of silence, heavier, pressing in on Tommy from all sides as he waits for Evan to say something, anything in response.
“I, uh, like you too,” Evan says.
Tommy’s first reaction is relief and then hope and then he wonders if Evan understood what Tommy meant. “I mean that romantically,” he says.
Evan laughs, a little chuckle that instantly relieves all the pressure building in Tommy’s chest. “I like you romantically too,” he says.
Even though he’s driving, Tommy chances a glance over at Evan who’s grinning at Tommy with a look of revelation, like he’s just discovered some sort of fundamental truth of the universe.
Tommy can’t help but grin back.
He never thought he’d be grateful for his truck dying and forcing him to ride the bus, but right now, Tommy would kiss the bus’s filthy floor in thanks for bringing Evan and him together.
“What’re you doing Saturday?” Tommy asks.
“Saturday?” Evan asks, sounding stunned.
“We still need to celebrate you graduating the academy,” Tommy says. “Are you free?”
Evan nods. “I’m free.”
And for the first time, in maybe ever, Tommy feels free too.