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Title: The Shortest Way Home
Fandom: 9-1-1
Characters/Pairings: Buck/Tommy
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with 9-1-1. It's not my toy box and I'm merely playing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After leaving it takes Tommy years to step inside the 118 firehouse again. Chapter 1
A/N: The title is from the James Joyce quote "The Longest Way Round Is the Shortest Way Home."
A/N2: I have this entire thing plotted. I thought it would be an easy 10k. This first chapter covers to the end of S2. Kelsey (and the mentioned Chad) are borrowed from Power Rangers Lightspeed Rescue. Hunter will be borrowed from Queer as Folk (US). Hunter and Tommy are going to get into a relationship in this fic. They'd be about the same age and I think have a similar sense of humor. Hunter is going to die from Covid. I will not go into detail, it'll be mentioned. Tommy's grief will be explored. There is mentioned past sexual harassment (towards Tommy from a past female captain) in this fic. Tommy's great aunt dies in the beginning of the fic.
A/N3: I believe I have all the tags I'm going to want, but I may add more when I post the next chapter.
Chapter One:
Tommy drops into the chair across from Bobby's desk and tries not to get caught up in the memory of how many uncomfortable conversations he's had in this room, most of them with Captain Gerrard, some of them with Captain Wright. Bobby gives him a smile as he turns away from his computer and opens his top desk drawer. Bobby frowns, “Well, I'm running low on stress balls.”
Stress balls? So this conversation is about to go as well as any with Captain Gerrard, but Tommy suspects Bobby will be nicer as he rejects Tommy's request for FMLA. Bobby holds up what looks like an anatomically correct heart. Is that supposed to be a stress ball?
Bobby laughs, but it seems more self-deprecating than mocking. “Right not that one. I'm afraid that means you're stuck with the frog.”
The heart gets dropped back into the drawer and Bobby tosses him a frog. It looks more like a small stuffed toy than a stress ball. The fabric covering it is soft. It's a dark green with a lighter green belly and big black eyes. It collapses a bit in Tommy’s hand as he catches it, but then bounces back when he opens his hand. Tommy stares at it a moment, then tries squeezing it again. It’s oddly satisfying, maybe a little relaxing? Except this is Bobby’s way of letting him down easy and Tommy’s just so tired.
“So your FMLA went through and…” Bobby starts.
“What?” Tommy interrupts. The last time his great aunt got ill Captain Gerrard made it seem like asking for time off to help her was selfish, that there were obviously better people to take care of her than Tommy.
Bobby pauses, waits.
“It was that easy?” Tommy manages.
“You live together,” Bobby points out carefully. “From what I can tell you’re her live-in caregiver. You’ve said you're her POA and you’ve said she’s dying. You got all the paperwork filled out.”
“We made the decision to put her on hospice yesterday,” Tommy informs him. The frog gets squeezed again. He’s really not ready for her to die. He’s really not ready to lose the one person who’s always supported him. He knows he’s not ready to figure out where he’s going to live after she dies. The thought of the extended family showing up to fight over her belongings makes him breathless. He squeezes the frog, trying to take a breath. He’s not going to cry in front of Bobby.
“Do you need to be home?”
“A nurse was with her when I came in and her best friend is staying with us. I’ve arranged caregivers. There’s a facility that specializes in hospice care, but she’d rather die at home.”
Bobby is silent a moment. Tommy tries to ignore that he’s clutching the frog like it’s a life line. Finally Bobby says, “That wasn’t what I meant to ask. Hospice is a great resource and I’m grateful you have help, but if you need to be home with her I can find people to cover your shifts.”
“I can finish my shift,” Tommy insists. “She’s not…if she was actively dying someone would call me.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Tommy agrees, wondering if that’s his dismissal. If he should get up and walk out.
“I wanted to talk to you about therapy,” Bobby broaches.
Tommy stares. He knows Bobby is saying something else but he can’t hear it. The last time he’d asked about therapy he’d been mocked for over a month. He’d been made man behind for the first two weeks after. Tommy feels suddenly nauseous and he hasn’t felt this nauseous at work since before Gerrard left.
“You only did the mandatory after you almost died,” Bobby points out.
“He said I didn’t more, that obviously I was fine,” Tommy hears himself say. His tone sounds flat. Will Bobby notice? Tommy really hopes Bobby doesn’t notice.
Bobby gives him this look that Tommy almost wants to call sympathetic. Then Bobby sighs, “Look I don’t know much about the people you’ve all had before me, but it sounds like some of them were not as supportive as they could’ve been.”
Tommy somehow manages to keep his comments to himself. He almost snorts, almost.
“The thing I’m trying to say is that hospice has great resources, not just for your aunt, but for you so let them talk to you, ask questions, let them do their follow up. I know you’re not there yet, but they might have resources about grief groups in the area. Sometimes it helps to talk to people that are going through the same thing you are,” Bobby tells him before he picks up a paper and holds it out. “I also looked up some of the therapists that are currently taking patients and covered by our insurance.”
Tommy somehow manages to take the paper. His voice sounds small, soft, almost faraway as he says, “I could’ve done that.”
“You’ve got enough on your plate,” Bobby says. He sounds so gentle, there’s so much concern in his tone, that Tommy can’t help but wonder what the catch is. He squeezes the frog again. Bobby continues, “If you need anything my doors open.”
“I just want to get back to work,” Tommy manages.
Bobby nods, says something else that’s kind, but Tommy doesn’t really catch, as he stands and starts to go, then remembers he should give the frog back. Bobby waves him off and tells him it’s his now.
Hen is standing nearby when he closes the door. Tommy slips the frog into his back pocket and glances down at the paper. He folds it carefully and puts it in his other back pocket.
“Everything alright?” Hen asks.
Tommy knows he should fake it, he’s always alright. It’s why everyone puts up with him. It’s why everyone likes him. He just goes with the flow and contributes, he doesn’t weigh anyone else down with his problems or insecurities. Maybe it’s the concern from Bobby or the worry on Hen’s face, but Tommy actually stops. He doesn’t force a smile onto his face or walk past her. Hen’s kind. It’s different from the way Howie is kind, but he doesn’t think either of them will mock him when he inevitably takes time off for his aunt’s funeral.
“My aunt’s dying,” he hears himself tell her.
She swears, then asks, “The one you live with.”
Tommy nods.
“What do you need?” she asks. It’s sincere.
“I should probably take a nap,” he sighs, then shakes his head. “Do you think we have any more ginger ale?”
“Let’s find out.”
And then she walks over with him, not hovering, but just there. Howie is taking a ginger ale out of the fridge when they get there.
“Is that the last one?” Hen asks. “Tommy needs it.”
Howie sets it on the counter, then grabs a glass and fills it with ice, before opening the ginger ale and pouring it out. He pushes the glass towards Tommy.
“You don’t have to,” Tommy manages.
“There are other drinks,” Howie says. “Do you need something for nausea or…”
Tommy shakes his head and takes the glass, thanking Howie. “Bobby seems nice, but going into his office still makes me queasy.”
He can feel the way both Howie and Hen study him, as if they both know it’s not Bobby that’s making him queasy, but the memories of being in that office before they got rid of Gerrard or the few times Captain Wright insisted on a chat. Tommy sits, waits. Howie might push, but he’ll be overly nice about it. Hen will be blunt. Tommy isn’t sure he can take either right now. He frowns as he sits. The frog feels weird to sit on. He pulls it out of his pocket.
“Oh,” Howie says, smiling. “I got a sparkly stress ball, it’s kind of got this gell inside that’s fun to watch, but that one’s awesome too.”
“What’s with the stuffed animal?” Louis asks as he joins them.
Tommy tenses.
“It’s a stress ball,” Hen counters. “Look at Tommy, he’s stressed.”
Louis snorts. “What do you have to be stressed about?”
“My aunt’s dying.”
Louis swears. Tommy thinks he hears Howie swear too. Louis shakes his head, “Aren’t you her POA?”
“Yeah.”
Louis starts to reach out as if he’s going to squeeze Tommy’s hand or try and pat his shoulder. Tommy tries not to flinch, but he still does. He lets himself drop his hands into his lap, trying to keep his shoulders back. Trying to hold still, trying not to hunch. Louis pulls back. “Sorry, forgot for a moment.”
Tommy shrugs. It’s easier to let everyone think he doesn’t like to be touched because if he starts letting people touch him he’s going to want more and he knows better. He knows how tactile he can be, he’s aware of how annoying it is. He also knows not to want too much or to share too much. Howie shifts slowly over, picks up the frog and holds it out to Tommy. Tommy takes it.
“Why are you here?” Hen asks.
Tommy shrugs. “I had a shift.”
“Bobby’d probably let you go home,” Howie points out.
Louis snorts. “Tommy doesn’t need to stay home. Tommy needs to be busy.”
Tommy reaches out and tries to hide the emotions building on his face by taking a sip of the ginger ale. It’s not really calming his nerves. He wants to squeeze the frog, but he also doesn’t want to do that in front of Louis. He’s so tired. He’s just going to finish the ginger ale and then take a nap, except they’ll probably be a call and he won’t get a nap. He wishes Sal was here to lean on. Sal always seems to know when Tommy’s reached his limit better than Tommy does and Tommy had gotten used to Sal pushing him to take better care of himself. Except Sal’s doesn’t work here anymore and some days Tommy still feels like he’s getting used to that.
The day blurs. Hen, Howie, and Bobby are gentle with him in their own ways. Other people keep trying to distract him. He wishes distraction didn’t come with so many slaps on the back and then people apologizing and saying they forgot he doesn’t like to be touched. He keeps having to stop himself from correcting them, that he just doesn’t like being touched at work. Except it fine when Hen squeezes his shoulder. It feels more like she’s reassuring him than herself. And when Howie presses against his side during a quiet moment Tommy finally feels like he can breathe.
“We’re back,” Howie points out. “You’ve showered, changed. Maybe try for that nap you keep talking about?”
Tommy agrees, lets himself finally rest for a moment. The nap is brief, but no calls interrupt it. When he gets up there’s coffee waiting for him from a run Hen made earlier. So he takes his coffee and his frog, pulls out the list Bobby made him, and finds a quiet corner so he can look up reviews and see if he can fit a therapist into his schedule.
He doesn’t feel the need to hide what he’s doing when Howie makes his way over talking on his phone. Howie takes the chair next to him and leans in so the video call is visible to both of them. Tommy stares at Sal. Sal stares back.
“We put her on hospice yesterday,” Tommy says.
“Could’ve called,” Sal comments. It’s not chastising, there’s worry on his face as he takes Tommy in, cataloging.
“By the time I got her settled in at home and her friend Ida moved in to stay with us, it was late,” Tommy explains.
“Are you sleeping on the couch?” Sal asks.
“It’s a pull out,” Tommy defends. He can give up his room for the friend that’s come to help them.
Howie grimaces. “Those aren’t comfortable. Do you need another nap?”
Tommy shrugs.
“You tell Bea yet?” Sal asks.
He and Bea aren’t dating anymore, but they’re still good friends and she’s Sal’s cousin. Tommy shakes his head, then explains, “I had a shift.”
“Need to work?” Sal pushes.
“She’s not actively dying, and Ida is there, and a nurse. She told me to come in. She said she didn’t want me to dwell,” Tommy manages. Howie places a box of tissues in his lap and Tommy takes one, wipes at the tears making paths down his face. Tommy grimaces.
“Gina says tears are a way for our body to release stress,” Sal comments.
“Gina’s smart,” Howie puts in.
“Smarter than me, why do you think I married her?” Sal jokes.
Tommy feels himself smile and he ducks his head.
“Hey,” Sal catches his attention. “Gina is picking me up after I get off work and then we’re going to come get you.”
“You don’t…” Tommy starts.
“She’s already planning a casserole: that chicken, broccoli, alfredo one you like,” Sal informs him.
Tommy nods, then protests, “The kids…”
“Tommy,” Sal interrupts. “My family is going to show up for you. I can call Bea, or Nonna, or half a dozen cousins and tell them you need some help today and they’ll either show up and help too or take the kids off my hands. If your relatives only show up after she dies asking when you’re selling her house and splitting the money you tell them to fuck off and you don’t give them a dime.”
“I don’t want to sell her house,” Tommy chokes, and now he’s crying again. Howie presses close and Tommy takes a slow breath.
“Take another one,” Sal instructs. Tommy does. Sal nods. “So me and Gina will pick you up after work?”
“Thanks,” Tommy agrees.
Sal nods. “If you need to leave earlier, talk to Nash. I don’t think he’d be an ass and make you stay.”
“He already asked me if I needed to go home,” Tommy informs him. “He even put together a list of therapists our insurance takes for me.”
Sal studies him again. “You sleeping?”
Tommy shrugs. “I just had a nap.”
“You know what I mean,” Sal says and maybe it’s the concern on his face, or the sympathy in his tone, but Tommy deflates.
Then he admits, “I keep waking up and having to check she’s still breathing.”
“Yeah,” Sal agrees. “I remember doing that when Aria had scarlet fever. She was so little and we kept having to check her temp.”
“She’s fine now,” Tommy comments, instead of reminding them both how Gerrard didn’t want to give Sal time off to help, even with his youngest being so sick.
“Thank fuck,” Sal comments. Lights start to flash behind him. Sal grimaces, then says over the alarm, “I’ll see you after work.”
“Thanks,” Tommy tells him as they hang up. Tommy hands Howie’s phone back to him, not sure when he’d taken it. “Thanks Howie.”
Howie shrugs. “Sometimes you need your older brother.”
Of course Howie understands that and can understand that even though he and Sal aren’t related they've still found themselves in that dynamic. Tommy knows Howie is thinking about Kevin, about how he’d have wanted to support Kevin if he was dealing with Tommy’s situation. Tommy forces himself to take another slow breath. He doesn’t want to start crying again. He glances at Howie and for a brief moment he wants to confess that he and Kevin were dating when Kevin died, but then the alarm goes off and the moment is lost.
Gina and Sal do pick him up after work. Gina brings the promised casserole and Bea. Sal shrugs, apologetic, “I thought I’d drive your car.”
“I’m not risking either of you falling asleep behind the wheel,” Gina insists.
Bea snorts and pulls him into a hug. “Sal called.”
“I was going to call you after work,” Tommy tells her as he leans into her embrace.
“Emily and I dug my old mattress topper out of storage for you,” Bea informs him.
Grateful Tommy thanks her, hands over his keys, and gets in the passenger side of his car.
When his aunt dies, Howie, Hen, Sal, and Bea come to the wake. When he comes back to work Bobby takes him aside and makes it clear he’s just checking in. He reassures Bobby. He’s got a therapist. He’s even going to grief counseling. He’s still kind of reeling that his great aunt left him nearly everything. It’s weird to own a house and only have to worry about taxes and insurance. They’d made him the executor of her estate, but he didn’t expect her to leave him the house and everything in it. His family is still trying to say they should get to go through her things and decide what they want for themselves, but he doesn’t have to let them. He tells them he’ll ask them if they want anything before he thinks about getting rid of it. He’s not ready to change anything in the house yet, but he starts planning how he wants the garage.
Then the 217 is requesting pilots to help cover a retirement and a maternity leave. Tommy checks in with Bobby, but it's almost unnecessary because Bobby is just supportive. When he goes Kelsey greets him, ready to give him a tour of the station. She is somehow wearing shoes that also let her skate around. Tommy didn’t even know they made those shoes for adults. She's practically bouncing, explains she has a lot of search and rescue experience, but has recently moved to LA for her wife’s job.
They're fast friends. They just fit into each other's lives in a way Tommy’s rarely had. There's Sal, who greeted him in Italian on his first day at the 118, and only stopped when Garrard went on a rant about using English in his firehouse. There'd been Kevin, but they'd only dated for fifty-eight days before Kevin died. There’s Bea, who Sal introduced him to, who’d been looking for a friend to take to family get-togethers because she wasn’t ready to come out yet. Tommy hadn’t been ready either. It’d been ideal for both of them. And now there’s Kelsey.
The shifts he’s covering seem to go quickly. He finds himself looking forward to going to work. He didn’t even realize he could look forward to going to work. Then it’s time to go back to the 118 and the nausea returns. He wants to transfer, except every time he’d tried when Gerrard was captain only left him with an angry captain and getting yelled at about being ungrateful. Tommy doesn’t want to think about the rants Gerrard would get into about who’d they’d try to replace Tommy with.
Tommy tries to take time to think about it. He actually likes some of his coworkers now, except the queasiness he feels when he knows it’s time to go to work isn’t going away. He doesn’t feel like he has to keep everything light and professional anymore, he can learn more about his coworkers now, and he’s starting to not feel like he has to carry himself a certain way or risk getting mocked, but he looks around and remembers how uncomfortable he was. He sometimes finds himself waiting for it to all go back the way it was before, when Gerrard only wanted a certain type of firefighter working for him and you had to mold yourself into what he wanted. Tommy can’t do that again.
Nervous, sure he’s about to get screamed at, Tommy approaches Bobby about transferring.
Bobby nods. “I want to make it clear that you’re more than welcome to stay, but with the way they need pilots I’m surprised we’ve kept you this long.”
So he put in the transfer request and he takes the fresh start. He’s a little surprised that he gets a going away party. He’s never had a going away party with balloons and a cake before.
He expects that to be it, the last time he sees Howie and Hen except for maybe on Facebook or Instagram. Except he and Howie have been going to see a movie every other week and Howie texts his suggestions and asks when he’s free. He gets to hear the story about how his replacement stole a firetruck for a hook-up and almost got fired.
“Is the kid okay?” Tommy asks.
Howie shrugs. “He didn’t lose his job? He maybe learned a valuable lesson?”
Tommy snorts. “It sounds like he needs therapy more than me.”
Howie grimaces, but doesn’t comment so Tommy figures he’s right or Howie doesn’t want to talk about Tommy going to therapy. The movie is predictable, but fun and then Howie suggests they try a rom-com next time since he knows Tommy likes them. They find a diner for dinner and Howie asks about work, then asks how Tommy’s decision that he’s going to try and spend the next year making friends is going.
Tommy laughs. “Easier than I thought it would be. It's been more figuring myself out and meeting people.”
“It’s that easy, huh?” Howie asks, tone teasing, but still light.
For a moment Tommy almost shares that when he’s been cleaning out his aunt’s things he keeps finding half finished knitting projects and so much yarn. He’s got bins full of yarn. He thinks about sharing how his grandma taught him to knit. Would he have to share that he stopped because his mom didn’t approve? He can share that he remembers some of it and the rest was easy to look up on Youtube, or that he took a class anyway, and he’s planning a date with a guy he met there. He’s never really gone beyond one night stands since Kevin and actually dating openly is new. So Tommy shrugs instead, “One of my coworkers, Kelsey, got me to join a hiking group with her and her wife. She’s offered to teach me rock climbing or set me up with a friend of hers.”
Howie tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. “Did you say yes to the friend?”
Tommy isn’t sure if he’s ready to say he’s dating, he's just not dating Chad. Does he describe Chad, who he’s only met through brief video calls, when Kelsey was talking to him? Does he change pronouns so Howie thinks he’s talking about a woman? Tommy sighs. He’s so tired of pretending and he’s been trying not to since he transferred. Tommy wets his lips. “No. He lives all the way out in Turtle Cove and neither of us were interested in trying something that would be long distance.”
“That makes sense,” Howie says without stumbling, though his eyes are slightly wider. “So that time I asked about setting you up with someone was less about you not liking being set up and more about the gender?”
“Yeah,” Tommy admits.
“Your face when I suggested it,” Howie laughs.
Tommy shakes his head, but he can’t help the smile. “I think you mean Sal’s face.”
Howie snorts, then he stills and panic starts to take over his face. “You just told me a secret.”
Tommy stills too. He did. He tries for reassuring, “It's not really a secret, not anymore. You can tell Hen if you want. You could even tell Bobby.”
Howie relaxes back into his seat. “Don't you want to tell them?”
“Hen's sent me one meme since I left and I haven't talked to Bobby.”
Howie considers this. “I tell Hen and she'll convince you to go to Pride.”
Tommy grimaces. “Too many people.”
Howie’s right, of course he is. Hen and Howie invite him for drinks. His replacement is invited too, but doesn't show. Howie complains, “I think he's with his not-girlfriend or maybe his roommates? He and Tommy would get along great. Hen, back me up here.”
“Oh, I could see it,” Hen agrees. “I thought this was more about me convincing both of you that Pride is something you should experience once in your life.”
Tommy grimaces and doesn't hide it behind his beer. Howie groans. “That's months away, besides I have a girlfriend and I'm barely bi.”
“Still counts,” Hen tells him. Tommy blinks. Howie’s bi?
“I'm like a Kinsey one,” Howie snorts. “Maybe a two, maybe.”
“I don't understand what you're saying,” Tommy admits. He lets himself have a moment to be proud of that. Old Tommy would have just sat there smiling, hiding behind his beer, and spent the rest of the conversation desperately hoping for context clues or trying to make a joke.
Instead he gets to listen as Howie explains what the Kinsey scale is and Hen chimes in. “I'm a six.”
“I am too,” Tommy admits.
Hen raises her eyebrows.
“Not even a five?” Howie wheedles.
Tommy shakes his head.
“Were you not dating women? Or pretending to date women?” Howie asks, head tilting slightly, frowning in a way that comes across as concerned rather than angry or upset.
“Chim,” Hen chastises.
“He doesn't have to tell me, but I want to ask,” Howie defends. There's still a look of concern, but also Howie and Hen look one step away from antics meant to distract him.
Tommy isn't sure he's got the energy to be the voice of reason for a night of Hen and Howie antics so he admits, “When I got set up or when Gerrard got really adamant about the ‘where’s your girlfriend’ at me I’d go on one or a few dates.”
“Didn't you go to Sal's sister-in-law's wedding with one of his cousins,” Hen asks.
“Bea and I are still friends,” Tommy nods before he picks at the label of his beer bottle. “I was her ‘guy friend’ to a lot of family functions. She came out about a year ago. She's married now. I still get invited to family functions.”
“So when Sal wouldn't let anyone set you up by saying you were obviously going to marry his cousin…” Hen lets the question trail off as she raises her eyebrows.
“Apparently he hasn't found the right cousin yet,” Tommy shrugs. “Though I'm ‘already family and don't need to marry in’. He knows I'm gay.”
“Is he still making homophobic jokes?” Hen asks. Tommy isn't sure how to quantify the look on her face. Skeptical maybe? Offended maybe?
Tommy shrugs. “Only if he thinks I'd find it funny too.”
The noise Hen makes is definitely critical and definitely skeptical.
“At least it let me know who to avoid when we were going through captains left and right,” Tommy says.
“There is that,” Hen agrees. “And he did defend you from that one captain that was being creepy.”
Tommy grimaces and takes a long drink of his beer. He'd rather not think about Captain Wright.
Howie shudders. “What was with the hugging? Like I don't mind hugging my friends, but she kept insisting on getting hugs from all of us.”
“She never asked me for one,” Hen points out.
“She kept rubbing my arms and calling me ‘her solider’,” Tommy commiserates. “And inviting me out for drinks.”
“Yeah,” Howie agrees. “There was a reason Sal instituted a buddy system for you.”
“I'm just grateful she didn't last long and Bobby seems nice,” Tommy says, hoping he's changing the subject.
“Well, I'm still pissed at her,” Hen grumbles. “I went on vacation and you were comfortable with casual affection, even starting to get comfortable with initiating. I get back and Sal's on a campaign to become our next captain and you're flinching anytime someone gets near you.”
“I'm doing better,” Tommy tries. How does he change the subject? Maybe if he asks about Karen or Denny?
“The 217 treating you right?” Hen asks.
Tommy nods in relief at the subject change. “You should see some of the planes I get to fly. I thought they'd put me on just helicopters since I have the most experience with them, but I get a variety and it's fun.”
“With how they're always looking for pilots we're lucky to have kept you as long as we did,” Howie comments.
He and Howie try to find subjects to keep Hen distracted from convincing them to go to Pride, but Tommy is relatively sure she'll convince both of them. She doesn’t bring up making plans again after Howie ends up with rebar through his head. Tommy manages to visit him in the hospital once and drops off food when Howie makes it home. He even gets invited to Howie’s welcome back to work party. Tommy makes it halfway to the station before the nausea starts. He calls and makes an excuse. If he's coming down with something he doesn't want to expose anyone else. He doesn't clock the nausea as nerves until he feels immediately better as he takes the turn to drive home.
Tommy knows he should bring it up in therapy, but how often is he going to get invited to the 118?
Tommy doesn’t mean to drift away from his friendship with Howie, but their schedules don't seem to line up and they shift to mostly texting. They both have other friends and work keeps them busy. Slowly their texting seems to drift into nothing. Then Howie texts asking if making hot mustard counts as cooking. Tommy asks if they need to look up recipes. Howie calls with a rant about how he can't cook, but the place he and Maddie like to order food from always forgets her hot mustard and so he wants to have some for her.
Tommy listens, then points out, “Okay, two things. I don't know who Maddie is and who made you believe you're not able to cook?”
Howie is quiet for a moment. “That…Gerrard is gone, why am I still believing his shit?”
“You do not want to know how much therapy I've had just to be able to admit my cooking is mine and not some fictional girlfriend's,” Tommy admits. “That man was the worst.”
“The worst!” Howie agrees.
“So who's Maddie?”
He listens as Howie describes Maddie. He can hear the fondness in his friend's tone.
Tommy grins. “You like her.”
Howie hesitates. “I do, but as a friend. She needs friends right now, not a boyfriend.”
Tommy wants to point out that Howie seems more comfortable talking about Maddie than he ever did talking about Tatiana, but he also doesn’t want to seem like he’s pushing Howie towards wanting to date Maddie.
Thankfully Howie changes the subject. “Hey, weren't we supposed to go see a movie when it came out? What was it called?”
Is it weird he immediately knows what movie Howie is talking about?
“I believe I was worried it would make me cry,” Tommy reminds.
“Love Simon!” Howie remembers. “Have you seen it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you cry?”
“Yes?”
Tommy can hear the frown, the confusion in Howie's tone. “It's supposed to have a happy ending?”
“Yeah, I'm not used to that,” Tommy explains. “Not from queer movies.”
“Huh,” Howie sounds like he’s frowning. Then he says, “Maybe we can find a comedy.”
“Good luck with that,” Tommy says. “We don’t have to see a movie that’s gay.”
“There is a movie for everything,” Howie protests.
“There is,” Tommy agrees.
“Have you seen Mambo Italiano?” Howie asks.
“Seen?” Tommy teases. This has to be a movie, but he’s never heard of it. “I’ve heard the song.”
“This is a movie,” Howie protests. Tommy snorts. Howie laughs.
“Okay, what’s it about?”
“It’s gay and Canadian and Italian?” Howie says.
“Hang on,” Tommy tells him, grabbing his laptop and pulling up a description. “This looks funny.”
“Right?” Howie says. “See I’m the connoisseur of movies.”
“Who introduced who to Fight Club?” Tommy protests.
“I think Sal suggested that one,” Howie teases.
“And then didn’t show up!”
Howie laughs. They tease each other a bit more and then agree to get together to watch the movie.
Only their schedules don’t ever seem to line up. Whenever they share an off day Tommy’s already committed to one of the veteran groups his therapist recommended or Howie’s already made plans with Jason. Listening to Howie talk about both Maddie and Jason Tommy isn’t sure which one he’s trying to date. And then Tommy’s phone gets destroyed and not everything seems to transfer over to the new phone. He sends Howie his new number, but doesn’t hear back.
When Howie does call he asks, “Are you still with the 217?”
Howie isn’t at work, but watching his team be without water on the news. Tommy barely has to explain the situation to his captain before they’re following Howie’s advice. Why had no one but Howie thought to alert them?
Afterwards, Bobby gets his number from Howie and wants to invite him to a thank you meal at the station. Tommy makes excuses. He’s not sure that saying just thinking about being at the 118 firehouse makes his stomach upset is a valid excuse, so he finds other reasons to be busy.
“You saved one of my guy’s lives,” Bobby tells him.
Tommy pauses. “Wilson?”
“She’s fine.”
“Louis?”
“Diaz, but he joined after you left. He’s a single father,” Bobby informs him.
“Glad he’s okay,” Tommy says.
“If you hadn’t…”
“It was Howie, he called,” Tommy protests.
“And you listened,” Bobby points out.
“I always listen to Howie,” Tommy reminds. “Besides, it wasn't even me flying the plane. I just knew who to call. Want give you their number?”
“Yeah, okay,” Bobby agrees. “I still owe you dinner at some point.”
“At some point,” Tommy agrees with no intention of following through even though he misses Bobby's chili. He's tried so many different recipes, but hasn't found one as good as Bobby's.
Thankfully Bobby doesn’t push the issue. Tommy does finally watch Mambo Italiano with Howie, because Howie needs to be distracted from the boredom of nearly being stabbed to death. Tommy politely doesn’t point out that Howie might have fucked himself over by saying he never wanted any scars. Does he even have any from the job yet?
Then Howie calls excited about being the intern Captain.
“What happened to Bobby?” Tommy asks with trepidation.
“They just have to clear up a few questions,” Howie reassures. “I won’t be in charge for long, but I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.”
“Better you than me man, better you than me,” Tommy shakes his head. He’s got no desire to be captain, that’s too much paperwork and not enough flying.
And then when he’s getting off a shift Kelsey doesn’t let him in the breakroom. “You can’t see the news. Your friends are coming to pick you up.”
“Who died?” Tommy asks. Is Howie died? Is Hen? Bobby? Didn’t Jones just have a kid? He remembers seeing that on Facebook.
“No one,” Bea reassures as she’s suddenly just there. How did he miss her approaching? Gina’s there too.
“Sal?” Tommy manages.
Bea presses against his side and Tommy leans on her.
“Doesn’t want to leave the TV in the breakroom,” Gina informs him. “At his station. We need your help to get him home.”
“We’ll explain on the way,” Bea promises.
The guy who’s been sending bombs around LA has bombed one of the 118 firetrucks. Tommy feels numb when he sits down beside Sal.
“Jones isn’t there, he’s on paternity leave,” Tommy manages to offer.
“Wilson is,” Sal says. “I saw her before they pulled out to not show faces.”
“Is she…” Tommy trails off. He doesn’t feel like he has the words to ask.
“She’s moving, helping, being Wilson.”
Tommy nods. Should they call, check on Karen?
“Someone new is caught under the truck,” Sal sounds choked when he says it.
Tommy nods. He feels like a coward, but he wants to shut the TV off. Instead he asks, “Have you seen Howie? He’s interim captain right now?”
Sal shakes his head. Sal wets his lips. “You remember that job that got me transferred?”
“Yes.” Tommy isn’t ever going to forget that argument or the fire that led to that argument.
“The bomber is that kid I saved,” Sal’s words are almost a whisper.
The pieces that he knows, the things that didn’t quite fit on the drive over suddenly solidify into clarity. “He’s bombing the people that put his father in jail.”
“I saved his life. How many people has he killed?”
There’s commotion on the news. Tommy grabs the remote and turns it off. Sal protests. Tommy grabs his hand and squeezes. “You can’t think like that. You start going down that route then you won’t be able to do this job anymore.”
Sal makes a choked, hopeless sound.
“It wasn’t Nash’s fault that the father set his business on fire. It’s not your fault that his kid decided to pursue revenge on people that were just doing their job,” Tommy tells him firmly, almost frantically.
“I know that,” Sal manages. “I should know that, but every time they cut to that kid stuck under the truck I…”
Tommy gives Sal a moment to finish his thought, but Sal just shakes his head so Tommy steps in. “This isn’t your fault. Let's get you home.”
Sal groans. “Did I worry Gina? I’m an asshole.”
“You’re not,” Tommy tells him.
“Well, I feel like one,” Sal grumbles.
“You're not,” Gina insists as she joins them. “Thanks Tommy.”
Tommy nods then leaves, joining Bea by Gina’s car. They hug tightly, not really talking, until Gina and Sal are ready to leave. On the drive home Tommy sends Howie a text, just offering support and carefully worded so it doesn’t come across as if he’s digging for information. Howie calls him the next day to vent in a rant. Tommy isn't sure why he feels guilty. He's never even met his replacement, but it sucks that his career is likely over.
“Don't tell Sal,” Tommy advises Howie. He can't have Sal going down the ‘that could've been you’ route. He can't start going down that route either.
“What if he asks?” Howie says. They both know Howie can't lie.
“I'll tell Gina,” Tommy says. “She's got him.”
Fandom: 9-1-1
Characters/Pairings: Buck/Tommy
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with 9-1-1. It's not my toy box and I'm merely playing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After leaving it takes Tommy years to step inside the 118 firehouse again. Chapter 1
A/N: The title is from the James Joyce quote "The Longest Way Round Is the Shortest Way Home."
A/N2: I have this entire thing plotted. I thought it would be an easy 10k. This first chapter covers to the end of S2. Kelsey (and the mentioned Chad) are borrowed from Power Rangers Lightspeed Rescue. Hunter will be borrowed from Queer as Folk (US). Hunter and Tommy are going to get into a relationship in this fic. They'd be about the same age and I think have a similar sense of humor. Hunter is going to die from Covid. I will not go into detail, it'll be mentioned. Tommy's grief will be explored. There is mentioned past sexual harassment (towards Tommy from a past female captain) in this fic. Tommy's great aunt dies in the beginning of the fic.
A/N3: I believe I have all the tags I'm going to want, but I may add more when I post the next chapter.
Chapter One:
Tommy drops into the chair across from Bobby's desk and tries not to get caught up in the memory of how many uncomfortable conversations he's had in this room, most of them with Captain Gerrard, some of them with Captain Wright. Bobby gives him a smile as he turns away from his computer and opens his top desk drawer. Bobby frowns, “Well, I'm running low on stress balls.”
Stress balls? So this conversation is about to go as well as any with Captain Gerrard, but Tommy suspects Bobby will be nicer as he rejects Tommy's request for FMLA. Bobby holds up what looks like an anatomically correct heart. Is that supposed to be a stress ball?
Bobby laughs, but it seems more self-deprecating than mocking. “Right not that one. I'm afraid that means you're stuck with the frog.”
The heart gets dropped back into the drawer and Bobby tosses him a frog. It looks more like a small stuffed toy than a stress ball. The fabric covering it is soft. It's a dark green with a lighter green belly and big black eyes. It collapses a bit in Tommy’s hand as he catches it, but then bounces back when he opens his hand. Tommy stares at it a moment, then tries squeezing it again. It’s oddly satisfying, maybe a little relaxing? Except this is Bobby’s way of letting him down easy and Tommy’s just so tired.
“So your FMLA went through and…” Bobby starts.
“What?” Tommy interrupts. The last time his great aunt got ill Captain Gerrard made it seem like asking for time off to help her was selfish, that there were obviously better people to take care of her than Tommy.
Bobby pauses, waits.
“It was that easy?” Tommy manages.
“You live together,” Bobby points out carefully. “From what I can tell you’re her live-in caregiver. You’ve said you're her POA and you’ve said she’s dying. You got all the paperwork filled out.”
“We made the decision to put her on hospice yesterday,” Tommy informs him. The frog gets squeezed again. He’s really not ready for her to die. He’s really not ready to lose the one person who’s always supported him. He knows he’s not ready to figure out where he’s going to live after she dies. The thought of the extended family showing up to fight over her belongings makes him breathless. He squeezes the frog, trying to take a breath. He’s not going to cry in front of Bobby.
“Do you need to be home?”
“A nurse was with her when I came in and her best friend is staying with us. I’ve arranged caregivers. There’s a facility that specializes in hospice care, but she’d rather die at home.”
Bobby is silent a moment. Tommy tries to ignore that he’s clutching the frog like it’s a life line. Finally Bobby says, “That wasn’t what I meant to ask. Hospice is a great resource and I’m grateful you have help, but if you need to be home with her I can find people to cover your shifts.”
“I can finish my shift,” Tommy insists. “She’s not…if she was actively dying someone would call me.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Tommy agrees, wondering if that’s his dismissal. If he should get up and walk out.
“I wanted to talk to you about therapy,” Bobby broaches.
Tommy stares. He knows Bobby is saying something else but he can’t hear it. The last time he’d asked about therapy he’d been mocked for over a month. He’d been made man behind for the first two weeks after. Tommy feels suddenly nauseous and he hasn’t felt this nauseous at work since before Gerrard left.
“You only did the mandatory after you almost died,” Bobby points out.
“He said I didn’t more, that obviously I was fine,” Tommy hears himself say. His tone sounds flat. Will Bobby notice? Tommy really hopes Bobby doesn’t notice.
Bobby gives him this look that Tommy almost wants to call sympathetic. Then Bobby sighs, “Look I don’t know much about the people you’ve all had before me, but it sounds like some of them were not as supportive as they could’ve been.”
Tommy somehow manages to keep his comments to himself. He almost snorts, almost.
“The thing I’m trying to say is that hospice has great resources, not just for your aunt, but for you so let them talk to you, ask questions, let them do their follow up. I know you’re not there yet, but they might have resources about grief groups in the area. Sometimes it helps to talk to people that are going through the same thing you are,” Bobby tells him before he picks up a paper and holds it out. “I also looked up some of the therapists that are currently taking patients and covered by our insurance.”
Tommy somehow manages to take the paper. His voice sounds small, soft, almost faraway as he says, “I could’ve done that.”
“You’ve got enough on your plate,” Bobby says. He sounds so gentle, there’s so much concern in his tone, that Tommy can’t help but wonder what the catch is. He squeezes the frog again. Bobby continues, “If you need anything my doors open.”
“I just want to get back to work,” Tommy manages.
Bobby nods, says something else that’s kind, but Tommy doesn’t really catch, as he stands and starts to go, then remembers he should give the frog back. Bobby waves him off and tells him it’s his now.
Hen is standing nearby when he closes the door. Tommy slips the frog into his back pocket and glances down at the paper. He folds it carefully and puts it in his other back pocket.
“Everything alright?” Hen asks.
Tommy knows he should fake it, he’s always alright. It’s why everyone puts up with him. It’s why everyone likes him. He just goes with the flow and contributes, he doesn’t weigh anyone else down with his problems or insecurities. Maybe it’s the concern from Bobby or the worry on Hen’s face, but Tommy actually stops. He doesn’t force a smile onto his face or walk past her. Hen’s kind. It’s different from the way Howie is kind, but he doesn’t think either of them will mock him when he inevitably takes time off for his aunt’s funeral.
“My aunt’s dying,” he hears himself tell her.
She swears, then asks, “The one you live with.”
Tommy nods.
“What do you need?” she asks. It’s sincere.
“I should probably take a nap,” he sighs, then shakes his head. “Do you think we have any more ginger ale?”
“Let’s find out.”
And then she walks over with him, not hovering, but just there. Howie is taking a ginger ale out of the fridge when they get there.
“Is that the last one?” Hen asks. “Tommy needs it.”
Howie sets it on the counter, then grabs a glass and fills it with ice, before opening the ginger ale and pouring it out. He pushes the glass towards Tommy.
“You don’t have to,” Tommy manages.
“There are other drinks,” Howie says. “Do you need something for nausea or…”
Tommy shakes his head and takes the glass, thanking Howie. “Bobby seems nice, but going into his office still makes me queasy.”
He can feel the way both Howie and Hen study him, as if they both know it’s not Bobby that’s making him queasy, but the memories of being in that office before they got rid of Gerrard or the few times Captain Wright insisted on a chat. Tommy sits, waits. Howie might push, but he’ll be overly nice about it. Hen will be blunt. Tommy isn’t sure he can take either right now. He frowns as he sits. The frog feels weird to sit on. He pulls it out of his pocket.
“Oh,” Howie says, smiling. “I got a sparkly stress ball, it’s kind of got this gell inside that’s fun to watch, but that one’s awesome too.”
“What’s with the stuffed animal?” Louis asks as he joins them.
Tommy tenses.
“It’s a stress ball,” Hen counters. “Look at Tommy, he’s stressed.”
Louis snorts. “What do you have to be stressed about?”
“My aunt’s dying.”
Louis swears. Tommy thinks he hears Howie swear too. Louis shakes his head, “Aren’t you her POA?”
“Yeah.”
Louis starts to reach out as if he’s going to squeeze Tommy’s hand or try and pat his shoulder. Tommy tries not to flinch, but he still does. He lets himself drop his hands into his lap, trying to keep his shoulders back. Trying to hold still, trying not to hunch. Louis pulls back. “Sorry, forgot for a moment.”
Tommy shrugs. It’s easier to let everyone think he doesn’t like to be touched because if he starts letting people touch him he’s going to want more and he knows better. He knows how tactile he can be, he’s aware of how annoying it is. He also knows not to want too much or to share too much. Howie shifts slowly over, picks up the frog and holds it out to Tommy. Tommy takes it.
“Why are you here?” Hen asks.
Tommy shrugs. “I had a shift.”
“Bobby’d probably let you go home,” Howie points out.
Louis snorts. “Tommy doesn’t need to stay home. Tommy needs to be busy.”
Tommy reaches out and tries to hide the emotions building on his face by taking a sip of the ginger ale. It’s not really calming his nerves. He wants to squeeze the frog, but he also doesn’t want to do that in front of Louis. He’s so tired. He’s just going to finish the ginger ale and then take a nap, except they’ll probably be a call and he won’t get a nap. He wishes Sal was here to lean on. Sal always seems to know when Tommy’s reached his limit better than Tommy does and Tommy had gotten used to Sal pushing him to take better care of himself. Except Sal’s doesn’t work here anymore and some days Tommy still feels like he’s getting used to that.
The day blurs. Hen, Howie, and Bobby are gentle with him in their own ways. Other people keep trying to distract him. He wishes distraction didn’t come with so many slaps on the back and then people apologizing and saying they forgot he doesn’t like to be touched. He keeps having to stop himself from correcting them, that he just doesn’t like being touched at work. Except it fine when Hen squeezes his shoulder. It feels more like she’s reassuring him than herself. And when Howie presses against his side during a quiet moment Tommy finally feels like he can breathe.
“We’re back,” Howie points out. “You’ve showered, changed. Maybe try for that nap you keep talking about?”
Tommy agrees, lets himself finally rest for a moment. The nap is brief, but no calls interrupt it. When he gets up there’s coffee waiting for him from a run Hen made earlier. So he takes his coffee and his frog, pulls out the list Bobby made him, and finds a quiet corner so he can look up reviews and see if he can fit a therapist into his schedule.
He doesn’t feel the need to hide what he’s doing when Howie makes his way over talking on his phone. Howie takes the chair next to him and leans in so the video call is visible to both of them. Tommy stares at Sal. Sal stares back.
“We put her on hospice yesterday,” Tommy says.
“Could’ve called,” Sal comments. It’s not chastising, there’s worry on his face as he takes Tommy in, cataloging.
“By the time I got her settled in at home and her friend Ida moved in to stay with us, it was late,” Tommy explains.
“Are you sleeping on the couch?” Sal asks.
“It’s a pull out,” Tommy defends. He can give up his room for the friend that’s come to help them.
Howie grimaces. “Those aren’t comfortable. Do you need another nap?”
Tommy shrugs.
“You tell Bea yet?” Sal asks.
He and Bea aren’t dating anymore, but they’re still good friends and she’s Sal’s cousin. Tommy shakes his head, then explains, “I had a shift.”
“Need to work?” Sal pushes.
“She’s not actively dying, and Ida is there, and a nurse. She told me to come in. She said she didn’t want me to dwell,” Tommy manages. Howie places a box of tissues in his lap and Tommy takes one, wipes at the tears making paths down his face. Tommy grimaces.
“Gina says tears are a way for our body to release stress,” Sal comments.
“Gina’s smart,” Howie puts in.
“Smarter than me, why do you think I married her?” Sal jokes.
Tommy feels himself smile and he ducks his head.
“Hey,” Sal catches his attention. “Gina is picking me up after I get off work and then we’re going to come get you.”
“You don’t…” Tommy starts.
“She’s already planning a casserole: that chicken, broccoli, alfredo one you like,” Sal informs him.
Tommy nods, then protests, “The kids…”
“Tommy,” Sal interrupts. “My family is going to show up for you. I can call Bea, or Nonna, or half a dozen cousins and tell them you need some help today and they’ll either show up and help too or take the kids off my hands. If your relatives only show up after she dies asking when you’re selling her house and splitting the money you tell them to fuck off and you don’t give them a dime.”
“I don’t want to sell her house,” Tommy chokes, and now he’s crying again. Howie presses close and Tommy takes a slow breath.
“Take another one,” Sal instructs. Tommy does. Sal nods. “So me and Gina will pick you up after work?”
“Thanks,” Tommy agrees.
Sal nods. “If you need to leave earlier, talk to Nash. I don’t think he’d be an ass and make you stay.”
“He already asked me if I needed to go home,” Tommy informs him. “He even put together a list of therapists our insurance takes for me.”
Sal studies him again. “You sleeping?”
Tommy shrugs. “I just had a nap.”
“You know what I mean,” Sal says and maybe it’s the concern on his face, or the sympathy in his tone, but Tommy deflates.
Then he admits, “I keep waking up and having to check she’s still breathing.”
“Yeah,” Sal agrees. “I remember doing that when Aria had scarlet fever. She was so little and we kept having to check her temp.”
“She’s fine now,” Tommy comments, instead of reminding them both how Gerrard didn’t want to give Sal time off to help, even with his youngest being so sick.
“Thank fuck,” Sal comments. Lights start to flash behind him. Sal grimaces, then says over the alarm, “I’ll see you after work.”
“Thanks,” Tommy tells him as they hang up. Tommy hands Howie’s phone back to him, not sure when he’d taken it. “Thanks Howie.”
Howie shrugs. “Sometimes you need your older brother.”
Of course Howie understands that and can understand that even though he and Sal aren’t related they've still found themselves in that dynamic. Tommy knows Howie is thinking about Kevin, about how he’d have wanted to support Kevin if he was dealing with Tommy’s situation. Tommy forces himself to take another slow breath. He doesn’t want to start crying again. He glances at Howie and for a brief moment he wants to confess that he and Kevin were dating when Kevin died, but then the alarm goes off and the moment is lost.
Gina and Sal do pick him up after work. Gina brings the promised casserole and Bea. Sal shrugs, apologetic, “I thought I’d drive your car.”
“I’m not risking either of you falling asleep behind the wheel,” Gina insists.
Bea snorts and pulls him into a hug. “Sal called.”
“I was going to call you after work,” Tommy tells her as he leans into her embrace.
“Emily and I dug my old mattress topper out of storage for you,” Bea informs him.
Grateful Tommy thanks her, hands over his keys, and gets in the passenger side of his car.
When his aunt dies, Howie, Hen, Sal, and Bea come to the wake. When he comes back to work Bobby takes him aside and makes it clear he’s just checking in. He reassures Bobby. He’s got a therapist. He’s even going to grief counseling. He’s still kind of reeling that his great aunt left him nearly everything. It’s weird to own a house and only have to worry about taxes and insurance. They’d made him the executor of her estate, but he didn’t expect her to leave him the house and everything in it. His family is still trying to say they should get to go through her things and decide what they want for themselves, but he doesn’t have to let them. He tells them he’ll ask them if they want anything before he thinks about getting rid of it. He’s not ready to change anything in the house yet, but he starts planning how he wants the garage.
Then the 217 is requesting pilots to help cover a retirement and a maternity leave. Tommy checks in with Bobby, but it's almost unnecessary because Bobby is just supportive. When he goes Kelsey greets him, ready to give him a tour of the station. She is somehow wearing shoes that also let her skate around. Tommy didn’t even know they made those shoes for adults. She's practically bouncing, explains she has a lot of search and rescue experience, but has recently moved to LA for her wife’s job.
They're fast friends. They just fit into each other's lives in a way Tommy’s rarely had. There's Sal, who greeted him in Italian on his first day at the 118, and only stopped when Garrard went on a rant about using English in his firehouse. There'd been Kevin, but they'd only dated for fifty-eight days before Kevin died. There’s Bea, who Sal introduced him to, who’d been looking for a friend to take to family get-togethers because she wasn’t ready to come out yet. Tommy hadn’t been ready either. It’d been ideal for both of them. And now there’s Kelsey.
The shifts he’s covering seem to go quickly. He finds himself looking forward to going to work. He didn’t even realize he could look forward to going to work. Then it’s time to go back to the 118 and the nausea returns. He wants to transfer, except every time he’d tried when Gerrard was captain only left him with an angry captain and getting yelled at about being ungrateful. Tommy doesn’t want to think about the rants Gerrard would get into about who’d they’d try to replace Tommy with.
Tommy tries to take time to think about it. He actually likes some of his coworkers now, except the queasiness he feels when he knows it’s time to go to work isn’t going away. He doesn’t feel like he has to keep everything light and professional anymore, he can learn more about his coworkers now, and he’s starting to not feel like he has to carry himself a certain way or risk getting mocked, but he looks around and remembers how uncomfortable he was. He sometimes finds himself waiting for it to all go back the way it was before, when Gerrard only wanted a certain type of firefighter working for him and you had to mold yourself into what he wanted. Tommy can’t do that again.
Nervous, sure he’s about to get screamed at, Tommy approaches Bobby about transferring.
Bobby nods. “I want to make it clear that you’re more than welcome to stay, but with the way they need pilots I’m surprised we’ve kept you this long.”
So he put in the transfer request and he takes the fresh start. He’s a little surprised that he gets a going away party. He’s never had a going away party with balloons and a cake before.
He expects that to be it, the last time he sees Howie and Hen except for maybe on Facebook or Instagram. Except he and Howie have been going to see a movie every other week and Howie texts his suggestions and asks when he’s free. He gets to hear the story about how his replacement stole a firetruck for a hook-up and almost got fired.
“Is the kid okay?” Tommy asks.
Howie shrugs. “He didn’t lose his job? He maybe learned a valuable lesson?”
Tommy snorts. “It sounds like he needs therapy more than me.”
Howie grimaces, but doesn’t comment so Tommy figures he’s right or Howie doesn’t want to talk about Tommy going to therapy. The movie is predictable, but fun and then Howie suggests they try a rom-com next time since he knows Tommy likes them. They find a diner for dinner and Howie asks about work, then asks how Tommy’s decision that he’s going to try and spend the next year making friends is going.
Tommy laughs. “Easier than I thought it would be. It's been more figuring myself out and meeting people.”
“It’s that easy, huh?” Howie asks, tone teasing, but still light.
For a moment Tommy almost shares that when he’s been cleaning out his aunt’s things he keeps finding half finished knitting projects and so much yarn. He’s got bins full of yarn. He thinks about sharing how his grandma taught him to knit. Would he have to share that he stopped because his mom didn’t approve? He can share that he remembers some of it and the rest was easy to look up on Youtube, or that he took a class anyway, and he’s planning a date with a guy he met there. He’s never really gone beyond one night stands since Kevin and actually dating openly is new. So Tommy shrugs instead, “One of my coworkers, Kelsey, got me to join a hiking group with her and her wife. She’s offered to teach me rock climbing or set me up with a friend of hers.”
Howie tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. “Did you say yes to the friend?”
Tommy isn’t sure if he’s ready to say he’s dating, he's just not dating Chad. Does he describe Chad, who he’s only met through brief video calls, when Kelsey was talking to him? Does he change pronouns so Howie thinks he’s talking about a woman? Tommy sighs. He’s so tired of pretending and he’s been trying not to since he transferred. Tommy wets his lips. “No. He lives all the way out in Turtle Cove and neither of us were interested in trying something that would be long distance.”
“That makes sense,” Howie says without stumbling, though his eyes are slightly wider. “So that time I asked about setting you up with someone was less about you not liking being set up and more about the gender?”
“Yeah,” Tommy admits.
“Your face when I suggested it,” Howie laughs.
Tommy shakes his head, but he can’t help the smile. “I think you mean Sal’s face.”
Howie snorts, then he stills and panic starts to take over his face. “You just told me a secret.”
Tommy stills too. He did. He tries for reassuring, “It's not really a secret, not anymore. You can tell Hen if you want. You could even tell Bobby.”
Howie relaxes back into his seat. “Don't you want to tell them?”
“Hen's sent me one meme since I left and I haven't talked to Bobby.”
Howie considers this. “I tell Hen and she'll convince you to go to Pride.”
Tommy grimaces. “Too many people.”
Howie’s right, of course he is. Hen and Howie invite him for drinks. His replacement is invited too, but doesn't show. Howie complains, “I think he's with his not-girlfriend or maybe his roommates? He and Tommy would get along great. Hen, back me up here.”
“Oh, I could see it,” Hen agrees. “I thought this was more about me convincing both of you that Pride is something you should experience once in your life.”
Tommy grimaces and doesn't hide it behind his beer. Howie groans. “That's months away, besides I have a girlfriend and I'm barely bi.”
“Still counts,” Hen tells him. Tommy blinks. Howie’s bi?
“I'm like a Kinsey one,” Howie snorts. “Maybe a two, maybe.”
“I don't understand what you're saying,” Tommy admits. He lets himself have a moment to be proud of that. Old Tommy would have just sat there smiling, hiding behind his beer, and spent the rest of the conversation desperately hoping for context clues or trying to make a joke.
Instead he gets to listen as Howie explains what the Kinsey scale is and Hen chimes in. “I'm a six.”
“I am too,” Tommy admits.
Hen raises her eyebrows.
“Not even a five?” Howie wheedles.
Tommy shakes his head.
“Were you not dating women? Or pretending to date women?” Howie asks, head tilting slightly, frowning in a way that comes across as concerned rather than angry or upset.
“Chim,” Hen chastises.
“He doesn't have to tell me, but I want to ask,” Howie defends. There's still a look of concern, but also Howie and Hen look one step away from antics meant to distract him.
Tommy isn't sure he's got the energy to be the voice of reason for a night of Hen and Howie antics so he admits, “When I got set up or when Gerrard got really adamant about the ‘where’s your girlfriend’ at me I’d go on one or a few dates.”
“Didn't you go to Sal's sister-in-law's wedding with one of his cousins,” Hen asks.
“Bea and I are still friends,” Tommy nods before he picks at the label of his beer bottle. “I was her ‘guy friend’ to a lot of family functions. She came out about a year ago. She's married now. I still get invited to family functions.”
“So when Sal wouldn't let anyone set you up by saying you were obviously going to marry his cousin…” Hen lets the question trail off as she raises her eyebrows.
“Apparently he hasn't found the right cousin yet,” Tommy shrugs. “Though I'm ‘already family and don't need to marry in’. He knows I'm gay.”
“Is he still making homophobic jokes?” Hen asks. Tommy isn't sure how to quantify the look on her face. Skeptical maybe? Offended maybe?
Tommy shrugs. “Only if he thinks I'd find it funny too.”
The noise Hen makes is definitely critical and definitely skeptical.
“At least it let me know who to avoid when we were going through captains left and right,” Tommy says.
“There is that,” Hen agrees. “And he did defend you from that one captain that was being creepy.”
Tommy grimaces and takes a long drink of his beer. He'd rather not think about Captain Wright.
Howie shudders. “What was with the hugging? Like I don't mind hugging my friends, but she kept insisting on getting hugs from all of us.”
“She never asked me for one,” Hen points out.
“She kept rubbing my arms and calling me ‘her solider’,” Tommy commiserates. “And inviting me out for drinks.”
“Yeah,” Howie agrees. “There was a reason Sal instituted a buddy system for you.”
“I'm just grateful she didn't last long and Bobby seems nice,” Tommy says, hoping he's changing the subject.
“Well, I'm still pissed at her,” Hen grumbles. “I went on vacation and you were comfortable with casual affection, even starting to get comfortable with initiating. I get back and Sal's on a campaign to become our next captain and you're flinching anytime someone gets near you.”
“I'm doing better,” Tommy tries. How does he change the subject? Maybe if he asks about Karen or Denny?
“The 217 treating you right?” Hen asks.
Tommy nods in relief at the subject change. “You should see some of the planes I get to fly. I thought they'd put me on just helicopters since I have the most experience with them, but I get a variety and it's fun.”
“With how they're always looking for pilots we're lucky to have kept you as long as we did,” Howie comments.
He and Howie try to find subjects to keep Hen distracted from convincing them to go to Pride, but Tommy is relatively sure she'll convince both of them. She doesn’t bring up making plans again after Howie ends up with rebar through his head. Tommy manages to visit him in the hospital once and drops off food when Howie makes it home. He even gets invited to Howie’s welcome back to work party. Tommy makes it halfway to the station before the nausea starts. He calls and makes an excuse. If he's coming down with something he doesn't want to expose anyone else. He doesn't clock the nausea as nerves until he feels immediately better as he takes the turn to drive home.
Tommy knows he should bring it up in therapy, but how often is he going to get invited to the 118?
Tommy doesn’t mean to drift away from his friendship with Howie, but their schedules don't seem to line up and they shift to mostly texting. They both have other friends and work keeps them busy. Slowly their texting seems to drift into nothing. Then Howie texts asking if making hot mustard counts as cooking. Tommy asks if they need to look up recipes. Howie calls with a rant about how he can't cook, but the place he and Maddie like to order food from always forgets her hot mustard and so he wants to have some for her.
Tommy listens, then points out, “Okay, two things. I don't know who Maddie is and who made you believe you're not able to cook?”
Howie is quiet for a moment. “That…Gerrard is gone, why am I still believing his shit?”
“You do not want to know how much therapy I've had just to be able to admit my cooking is mine and not some fictional girlfriend's,” Tommy admits. “That man was the worst.”
“The worst!” Howie agrees.
“So who's Maddie?”
He listens as Howie describes Maddie. He can hear the fondness in his friend's tone.
Tommy grins. “You like her.”
Howie hesitates. “I do, but as a friend. She needs friends right now, not a boyfriend.”
Tommy wants to point out that Howie seems more comfortable talking about Maddie than he ever did talking about Tatiana, but he also doesn’t want to seem like he’s pushing Howie towards wanting to date Maddie.
Thankfully Howie changes the subject. “Hey, weren't we supposed to go see a movie when it came out? What was it called?”
Is it weird he immediately knows what movie Howie is talking about?
“I believe I was worried it would make me cry,” Tommy reminds.
“Love Simon!” Howie remembers. “Have you seen it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you cry?”
“Yes?”
Tommy can hear the frown, the confusion in Howie's tone. “It's supposed to have a happy ending?”
“Yeah, I'm not used to that,” Tommy explains. “Not from queer movies.”
“Huh,” Howie sounds like he’s frowning. Then he says, “Maybe we can find a comedy.”
“Good luck with that,” Tommy says. “We don’t have to see a movie that’s gay.”
“There is a movie for everything,” Howie protests.
“There is,” Tommy agrees.
“Have you seen Mambo Italiano?” Howie asks.
“Seen?” Tommy teases. This has to be a movie, but he’s never heard of it. “I’ve heard the song.”
“This is a movie,” Howie protests. Tommy snorts. Howie laughs.
“Okay, what’s it about?”
“It’s gay and Canadian and Italian?” Howie says.
“Hang on,” Tommy tells him, grabbing his laptop and pulling up a description. “This looks funny.”
“Right?” Howie says. “See I’m the connoisseur of movies.”
“Who introduced who to Fight Club?” Tommy protests.
“I think Sal suggested that one,” Howie teases.
“And then didn’t show up!”
Howie laughs. They tease each other a bit more and then agree to get together to watch the movie.
Only their schedules don’t ever seem to line up. Whenever they share an off day Tommy’s already committed to one of the veteran groups his therapist recommended or Howie’s already made plans with Jason. Listening to Howie talk about both Maddie and Jason Tommy isn’t sure which one he’s trying to date. And then Tommy’s phone gets destroyed and not everything seems to transfer over to the new phone. He sends Howie his new number, but doesn’t hear back.
When Howie does call he asks, “Are you still with the 217?”
Howie isn’t at work, but watching his team be without water on the news. Tommy barely has to explain the situation to his captain before they’re following Howie’s advice. Why had no one but Howie thought to alert them?
Afterwards, Bobby gets his number from Howie and wants to invite him to a thank you meal at the station. Tommy makes excuses. He’s not sure that saying just thinking about being at the 118 firehouse makes his stomach upset is a valid excuse, so he finds other reasons to be busy.
“You saved one of my guy’s lives,” Bobby tells him.
Tommy pauses. “Wilson?”
“She’s fine.”
“Louis?”
“Diaz, but he joined after you left. He’s a single father,” Bobby informs him.
“Glad he’s okay,” Tommy says.
“If you hadn’t…”
“It was Howie, he called,” Tommy protests.
“And you listened,” Bobby points out.
“I always listen to Howie,” Tommy reminds. “Besides, it wasn't even me flying the plane. I just knew who to call. Want give you their number?”
“Yeah, okay,” Bobby agrees. “I still owe you dinner at some point.”
“At some point,” Tommy agrees with no intention of following through even though he misses Bobby's chili. He's tried so many different recipes, but hasn't found one as good as Bobby's.
Thankfully Bobby doesn’t push the issue. Tommy does finally watch Mambo Italiano with Howie, because Howie needs to be distracted from the boredom of nearly being stabbed to death. Tommy politely doesn’t point out that Howie might have fucked himself over by saying he never wanted any scars. Does he even have any from the job yet?
Then Howie calls excited about being the intern Captain.
“What happened to Bobby?” Tommy asks with trepidation.
“They just have to clear up a few questions,” Howie reassures. “I won’t be in charge for long, but I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.”
“Better you than me man, better you than me,” Tommy shakes his head. He’s got no desire to be captain, that’s too much paperwork and not enough flying.
And then when he’s getting off a shift Kelsey doesn’t let him in the breakroom. “You can’t see the news. Your friends are coming to pick you up.”
“Who died?” Tommy asks. Is Howie died? Is Hen? Bobby? Didn’t Jones just have a kid? He remembers seeing that on Facebook.
“No one,” Bea reassures as she’s suddenly just there. How did he miss her approaching? Gina’s there too.
“Sal?” Tommy manages.
Bea presses against his side and Tommy leans on her.
“Doesn’t want to leave the TV in the breakroom,” Gina informs him. “At his station. We need your help to get him home.”
“We’ll explain on the way,” Bea promises.
The guy who’s been sending bombs around LA has bombed one of the 118 firetrucks. Tommy feels numb when he sits down beside Sal.
“Jones isn’t there, he’s on paternity leave,” Tommy manages to offer.
“Wilson is,” Sal says. “I saw her before they pulled out to not show faces.”
“Is she…” Tommy trails off. He doesn’t feel like he has the words to ask.
“She’s moving, helping, being Wilson.”
Tommy nods. Should they call, check on Karen?
“Someone new is caught under the truck,” Sal sounds choked when he says it.
Tommy nods. He feels like a coward, but he wants to shut the TV off. Instead he asks, “Have you seen Howie? He’s interim captain right now?”
Sal shakes his head. Sal wets his lips. “You remember that job that got me transferred?”
“Yes.” Tommy isn’t ever going to forget that argument or the fire that led to that argument.
“The bomber is that kid I saved,” Sal’s words are almost a whisper.
The pieces that he knows, the things that didn’t quite fit on the drive over suddenly solidify into clarity. “He’s bombing the people that put his father in jail.”
“I saved his life. How many people has he killed?”
There’s commotion on the news. Tommy grabs the remote and turns it off. Sal protests. Tommy grabs his hand and squeezes. “You can’t think like that. You start going down that route then you won’t be able to do this job anymore.”
Sal makes a choked, hopeless sound.
“It wasn’t Nash’s fault that the father set his business on fire. It’s not your fault that his kid decided to pursue revenge on people that were just doing their job,” Tommy tells him firmly, almost frantically.
“I know that,” Sal manages. “I should know that, but every time they cut to that kid stuck under the truck I…”
Tommy gives Sal a moment to finish his thought, but Sal just shakes his head so Tommy steps in. “This isn’t your fault. Let's get you home.”
Sal groans. “Did I worry Gina? I’m an asshole.”
“You’re not,” Tommy tells him.
“Well, I feel like one,” Sal grumbles.
“You're not,” Gina insists as she joins them. “Thanks Tommy.”
Tommy nods then leaves, joining Bea by Gina’s car. They hug tightly, not really talking, until Gina and Sal are ready to leave. On the drive home Tommy sends Howie a text, just offering support and carefully worded so it doesn’t come across as if he’s digging for information. Howie calls him the next day to vent in a rant. Tommy isn't sure why he feels guilty. He's never even met his replacement, but it sucks that his career is likely over.
“Don't tell Sal,” Tommy advises Howie. He can't have Sal going down the ‘that could've been you’ route. He can't start going down that route either.
“What if he asks?” Howie says. They both know Howie can't lie.
“I'll tell Gina,” Tommy says. “She's got him.”
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