missmeryl92

Latest Posts by missmeryl92

@geddyqueer this is what I think the Scorpions showed up like at their first game of the tournament. Love no crying in baseball btw!!!

Sequel from my initial “man points” post….i think this might have to be a series for Sal and Tommy!

But BuckTommy though…

Why does this feel like something Sal and Tommy would do??? Not for the “man point” of it all but just for the one-ups-man ship. (For fanfiction writers, especially if you have Sal married and just had kids)

If anyone needs inspiration for a pilot mentor/old Army buddy for Tommy…just gonna drop this here.

Seconded!

We talk about Buck losing his mind the first time he and Tommy got naked but I'm sure Tommy saw the legendary Firehose and million-dollar jackpot sounds were dinging in his brain as he tried to inhale that thang

@alchemistc I know it’s been a minute since you’ve written for your hockey based fan fiction but maybe this can provide some inspiration!

Why hasn’t this happened on 911 yet???

Why is Buck doing this again??? I mean he did it with Abby, why is he doing it with Eddie now???

Which one is Tommy and which one is buck? 🤣🤣🤣

#buckfucks but it’s just disaster after disaster till he finds his way back to Tommy!!!

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DEeVzsispJP/?igsh=bDhiNzlwOXBlcmxi

BuckTommy fan fiction writers, I challenge you!!! Have fun!

https://www.instagram.com/share/_kVlUWzG6

This is TOTALLY Tommy talking about Buck!!!

Looking for someone to collab/beta a fanfiction with/for me. Happy to talk or send you what I have. My initial planning has been kind of moot since the end of 8a and well…I think I’ve either written myself into a corner or might need to start over from a different angle. Feel free to reach out and happy to discuss. If it’s not your thing after hearing my thoughts, no worries and no pressure. Thanks!!!

https://www.instagram.com/share/BALnlWg7vd

This is the energy we needed if 911 was going to do a meta firefighter show within a show!! A brand new show that was actually training with the firefam or the writers stopped by the 118 to do research and get a tour!!!

https://www.instagram.com/share/_-DHZAsdg

Okay but why aren’t there “sports” therapists in fantasy/scifi books/tv shows/movies??? Like imagine being a dungeon diver or an assassin or a space cowboy: facing huge monsters, rival parties, assassin guilds, aliens…but being scared of of the little ball of sunshine who can make your tank cry like a little girl with a well placed thumb or elbow. Just a barbarian saying his safe word while the “therapist” is scolding them about not stretching before going into battle.

Have you ever been writing a fan fic, thought of a new detail and the entire thing has turned itself in its head and now you feel like you need to rewrite the whole thing??? Not in a bad way but just in a “fuck me running” sort of way??? Also, to mitigate the weird google searches, does anyone know about estate/inheritance law? Again, for a fan fiction and it would be easier to ask someone than to read through the internet…

FYI

hey so when ur talking about omegaverse but espesh a/b/o yous need to leave the slashes in a/b/o if u have to use that term. bcos without the slashes, ur just putting a slur against my ppl (racists shorten the Aboriginal in Aboriginal Australians) all over my dash where i have to constantly see it and that fucking sucks, my guys

and i know most of yous didnt know this and thats fine! no need to apologise im not trying to make u feel bad, im just trying to navigate fandom and this website without being constantly exposed to a really awful racist slur

if u have to use that specific term, at least keep the slashes between the letters. it still sucks to see tho ngl. even better! stick to omegaverse or instead use aob (alpha-omega-beta) (imo its also nicer to pronounce; ay-oh-bee. ayo-bee)

anyway, pls spread awareness and (nicely) let ppl know when theyre using a racist slur for a fandom term

Some Basic Inclusive Tips on Writing Sex Workers with Respect and Intent

The other day, I aired some grievances about the harmful portrayal of sex work in smut writing, and @zeddylux asked for advice on avoiding common traps when writing sex workers. This list is my response—a collection of observations, critiques, and suggestions rooted in lived experience, intersectional thought, and activist work.

Here are some terms of engagement before we dive in:

This is by no means a universal or exhaustive list. On the contrary, I’ve narrowed it down to four of my most urgent concerns. Others with different lived experiences may have additional perspectives, and I welcome dialogue from informed individuals. I have more input myself but will save it for possible follow-up parts to avoid cognitive overload. Reblogging and sharing this post is encouraged and appreciated if you want to honor the time, labor, and vulnerability in this piece.

However, if you’re just someone writing smut fanfiction, (mis)using sex work as a trope, and feel the need to explain why you or others rely on certain harmful narratives—whether for escapism, fantasy, or whatever else—please don’t. I already understand why these narratives are perpetuated and reinforced. Your defensiveness won’t add value to the conversation. I've heard it all before, okay?

These are my boundaries, and I expect them to be respected.

#1 Forget the "Selling your Body" narrative.

Sex workers are not selling or "renting out" ownership of their bodies. They provide specific services requiring physical, emotional, and mental labor in exchange for compensation. Consider this like other professions involving the body—such as athletes, ballet dancers, or physiotherapists—to normalize sex work as legitimate labor without perpetuating harmful stigma.

#2 Kill the "Former Client to Love Interest" trope.

This trope is one of the laziest in the smut writer’s toolkit, often used to fast-track intimacy without developing authentic trust, vulnerability, or mutual desire. While it’s not inherently impossible to write well, most writers lack the skill or nuanced understanding of power dynamics to pull it off.

Here is what to consider:

Clients projecting romantic feelings onto sex workers is not romantic—it’s terrifying. I’ve personally experienced this, and it was one of the scariest situations of my life. A client mistook the attention and intimacy I offered as part of my job as "proof" that I was in love with him. When I insisted on maintaining my boundaries and professionalism, his frustration turned into entitlement, hostility, and transgression. While this situation didn’t escalate into physical violence for me, it easily could have. These scenarios are not about devotion—they are about power, projection, and risk. If you aren’t prepared to grapple with the dangers and complexities of this dynamic, it’s better to avoid this trope altogether.

“But What If It’s Mutual?”

Then, it’s likely lazy writing and you oversimplifying a complex relationship dynamic and the delicate power imbalances involved. We call that skill issue. Relationships require work—mutual trust, shared values, and vulnerability. This trope skips over those complexities in favor of a tired "sex leads inevitably to love" narrative. Newsflash: it doesn’t.

Sex workers are professionals. They have a business relationship with their clients that carry inherent power imbalances that need careful navigation. Just like a plumber or personal trainer, they aren't engaging in their work to make personal connections—they’re providing a service. Assume most clients are not the kind of people the character would pursue romantically.

Explore relationships outside the scope of their work—romantic, platonic, or otherwise—that aren’t rooted in the transactional nature of client dynamics. Let them exist in spaces and as persons independent of their job. Like everyone else does. In fact, it is actually super important to have relationships, hobbies, etc., that are separated from professional life.

Consider depicting professional friendships instead of romance. Regular clients can develop camaraderie with sex workers, similar to other professional relationships (etc. a hairstylist who listens to their client's problems, tc.), while still respecting boundaries. Exploring this dynamic thoughtfully could offer depth without veering into harmful and exhausted tropes.

Consider the narrative potential and rich opportunities of a love interest/partner who isn't involved with the sex worker's occupation. For example, the partner can serve as a pillar of support when the sex worker needs to vent about difficult clients or decompress after an intense session. This dynamic lets you explore how the character navigates intimacy and trust in personal relationships while maintaining professionalism at work.

If you’re committed to writing this trope, address it thoughtfully. Address the complexities head-on: the trust-building, boundary-setting, and delicate navigation required to shift from a professional to a personal connection.

By stepping away from or subverting the "former client to love interest" trope, you create richer, more respectful storytelling that challenges tired narratives.

#3 Mind the Gap—Intersectionality matters.

Sex work is not a monolith—it doesn't exist in a vacuum, free of cultural or societal conotations. Sex work itself is an umberalla term and it doesn't have to involve direct sexual contact with clients. Cam work is sex work, writing erotica is sex work, too, and sex education efforts and activism can also fall in the realm of sex work as they involve labor that often challenges societal taboos and provides intimate knowledge. Small digression to introduce some variety of the profession.

However, if we look at sex work that involves direct physical, sensual and sexual intimacy and contact, be aware that experiences of sex workers are shaped by intersections of race, gender identity, sexual orientation, class, disability, and more. A Black woman’s experience in sex work is different from that of a white woman, just as a trans woman’s experience differs from that of a cisgender woman.

Ignoring these intersections flattens your characters and perpetuates stereotypes. Writing with an intersectional lens means recognizing how systems of privilege and oppression interact to shape your character’s reality.

Here is what to consider:

Marginalized sex workers often face greater risks and additional burdens due to systemic biases.

Race: Black, Indigenous, and other sex workers of color are often fetishized, treated as hypersexual, and subjected to greater risks of violence and over-policing.

Gender Identity: Trans and nonbinary sex workers frequently deal with fetishization, discrimination, and heightened risks of physical harm, even in contexts that are ostensibly “safe.”

Disability: Disabled sex workers may face barriers to accessibility, both in the physical and societal sense or have their sexuality erased altogether. Disabilities themselves can be othered, treated as curiosities or 'kinks'.

Class: Socioeconomic background affects whether a character has the privilege to turn down risky clients or demand higher compensation.

Write with sensitivity to these factors. In many cases, multiple factors intersect and affect the experience and reality of the individual - a Black bisexual woman can't be separated from either her Blackness, nor her womanhood, nor her bisexuality. If you’re including marginalized characters, be prepared to research and engage critically with the systems that impact their lives. Listen to individuals who are affected. Should they offer you criticism, don't take it as an attack; it is a valuable contribution to the understanding necessary for more inclusive writing. Consider a sensitivity reader/beta-reader with insight and compensate them for their labor

Be mindful of fetishization as a dehumanizing, painful and traumatizing experience many marginalized people encounter daily, and which is often amplified through the power dynamics inherent in sex work. Clients may view their race, gender, or other aspects of identity as commodities to consume rather than facets of their humanity. Be mindful to not perpetuate it in your writing by implying that a Black woman is inherently more sexually 'hungry' or 'eager' and thus naturally inclined to sex work for personal enjoyment. Marginalized sex workers are far often subjected to exploitation and objectification.

#4 Sex Workers are more than their jobs.

Treat sex worker characters as fully realized individuals—center their humanity in all its complexity, beauty, and messiness. Sex work is a profession, not a personality trait or identity. Reducing a character to their job robs them of depth and diminishes the richness of their story.

This is where I want to highlight my frustration with the reductive “prostitute!reader” label that often crops up in smut writing. It flattens the individual into a caricature and fetishizes both the profession and the person. You are not contributing to sex-positivity and de-stigmatization; you are repackaging them for consumption and clout. Congratulations.

Sex work is not a fetish or kink. When writers treat it as such, they dehumanize sex workers and perpetuate damaging stereotypes. Writing “prostitute!reader” as an excuse to insert explicit content often overlooks the realities of the profession, reducing the character to a titillating aesthetic. While we're at it: Be mindful of your language. 'Prostitute' is an outdated term with a lot of stigma and loaded with baggage.

Some Thoughts on Language Use:

Use "sex worker" as an inclusive, neutral term unless context (e.g., historical setting, character voice) requires otherwise.

If derogatory terms are used in dialogue or by other characters, acknowledge their weight. Show how they affect your sex worker character—whether they brush it off, push back, or simmer internally for the sake of safety.

Don’t romanticize or fetishize stigmatizing language. If you’re writing smut and your title or tone leans on terms like “prostitute!reader,” you’re reducing a humanized profession to a hollow kink. Rethink your approach.

Here is how to do better:

Give your characters lives outside their work. Just like any other profession, sex work is part of a person’s life—it isn’t the sum total of who they are. Let your characters have hobbies, interests, relationships, dreams, and struggles that exist outside of their job.

Does your character love baking, painting, or gaming in their free time?

Are they deeply invested in a community project, a family dynamic, or a personal goal?

Do they find joy or solace in routines, friendships, or hobbies that help them recharge?

Such details make your characters feel real and relatable, showing that their identity isn’t solely tied to their work.

Acknowledge their boundaries and humanity. Sex work involves emotional, mental, and physical labor, but sex workers are not tools for fulfilling fantasies. They have boundaries, vulnerabilities, and unique personalities that inform how they navigate their lives and relationships.

Show how your character protects their emotional well-being and maintains boundaries in their work. Consider giving them a support network, routines and strategies.

Explore their moments of joy, frustration, exhaustion, or triumph in and outside of their work—just as you would with any other character.

Sex workers are under no obligation to love their job. Give the character space for a nuanced and ambiguous relationship with their work. Like anyone else, a sex worker might love some aspects of their job, tolerate others, and absolutely despise certain parts. Allow their feelings to evolve based on their experiences, and resist the urge to force a tidy resolution.

Respecting the humanity, professionalism, and complexity of sex workers leads to better stories and more inclusive narratives. By avoiding harmful tropes and centering your characters’ agency and individuality, you honor their experiences while creating more meaningful, impactful stories.

SOMEONE WRITE THIS IMMEDIATELY!!!!!

Picture it: the ending scene of an episode. Buck finally calls Tommy. It goes to voicemail. Buck unburdens himself to Tommy’s voicemail inbox, kinda like how he wrote Abby a letter in Stuck, and it’s really nice and really sad, and he’s wishing Tommy only good things, it’s playing like an old school episode ending voiceover, and we’re of course suffering because it’s so joever.

But as Buck is winding down, the scene flips to a cracked phone and the sound of alarms start fading in, and the camera pulls out and we see Tommy unconscious and bleeding, held in by his harness, and the camera pulls out again and the helicopter’s like fucking upside down pinned in a narrow ravine. End, everybody screams.

You people who think tommy might be coming back are more delusional than us buddies jfc

So you admit you’re delusional?

Love everything here about Boston, would not be mad at this spin-off. But they should do New Orleans!!! The city is so culturally diverse and would be a character itself!!! We could get interesting fun facts about the city or episodes about events specific to the city (Mardi Gras or their huge Jazz Festival; maybe Big Freedia could guest star). It would also be, to my memory, one of the few non-supernatural shows to take place there. Imagine the engine has to go on a call and the actors are in gore or creature make up. Going over to one person thinking their injured but it’s all latex and red caro syrup or having to ask a guy in demon make up to remove his contacts to check for a concussion. It’s right there!!!!!

In a wide-ranging interview, Raisani also gave an update about the location where the planned third “9-1-1” series will be set. He confirmed that Hawaii — where the network’s new hit “Rescue: HI-Surf” is based — is likely out. So are Seattle and Chicago.

“We wanted to find a city that also wasn’t so well known by other TV franchises. With Seattle, you’re looking at the ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ universe, and with Chicago, you’ve got the Dick Wolf universe,” he explained. “So we did a lot of strategizing about a city that hopefully is exciting in concept, but not so well known by many other TV shows and franchises. I think that the veil will come off of that pretty soon."

(X)

So…when do you think we are going to see this on 911?

911 8a

The good part is that the door remains wide open, with a second episode making clear how unfinished this situation is; the bad part is that the building is on fire, so by the time they think to use said door it might not matter.

Because 8a didn't wrap storylines started in s7, it just trashed them in favor of... what, Brad? It's not that Brad had more (time, story) than Tommy, it's that it could be said he had more than Bobby! Remember Bobby, whom we saw in the tail end of s7 being rather depressed (possibly suicidal), resign, rescue his wife from a fire, and die for a few minutes? we started s8 with an implication that the 118 hadn't talked to him (in months?), and I guess that was a sign of how the next episodes would go.

Now there's Buck spiraling again (making his best impression of a Hallmark movie heroine for some reason), Eddie leaves the 118 because of Chris again, Hen and Karen pretty much disappear until their kids are threatened once more I guess, Maddie will get kidnapped again, and who knows if they'll remember Chim exists.

I think we all expected some repetition from the weewoo show by now, suspension of disbelief too. Some rushing through storylines for sure. But I certainly didn't expect it to be so joyless.

The offer still stands!!! Anyone???

So…here’s me thinking just as I finish the first chapter of my fan fiction on “D-Day”; I think I will never touch it again. Which is kind of true…the story did a complete 180 in my head into a fix it fic which was how I found myself on a slow day at work writing four pages of a possible first chapter. I am looking for a beta or if someone would like to collaborate; I am more than happy to present the general scope of what I was thinking and we can go from there. I am also happy to send what I have before anyone wants to say yay or nay. This is my second fan fiction ever so for all those who are amazingly talented and mine might come off more as “I have purse”; please be gentle with me. TYSM!

😭😭😭

we might be dead by tomorrow | wolfnichols (+1x08)

I didn't need protection, I needed love.

@middyblue since I can’t send you a message, I’ll just have to reblog and say that “tart and tender” is amazing! Can we be…friends?? ***digs toe into dirt…then runs away*** 🫠

wow good morning! thank you everyone for being so kind about the lemon fic! I was really proud of it and excited to share and it means a lot <3

tart and tender with bright lemon flavor

4k, Buck/Tommy, Rated E

It’s been two weeks, now, that Buck’s counted the minutes and hours and days since Tommy left in twenty- to fifty-minute intervals measured out by his egg timer and oven clock.

The egg timer goes off again with its incessant ringing buzz and that’s another half hour he’s survived not texting Tommy; the oven timer does its beeeep beeeep beeeep and that’s another forty-five minutes he’s successfully stood his ground.

He beats eggs by hand, the whisk cramping his wrist, and argues against imaginary Tommys in his head (do you think I’m too naïve to know what I want? Do you think it’s noble to break my heart on purpose? How dare you come into my life and turn me around and leave me here, staggered); he rolls out dough and imagines pressing the stupid urge to sob underneath his rolling pin.

Sifting flour, caring less about the gentle white drifts of it across his kitchen floor than he had a week ago, he hears another bzzzzt and on instinct slaps the egg timer, which skids across the countertop, still ticking.

Bzzzzt.

Buck slowly sets the sifter down and stares at his apartment door, which goes bzzzzt again, and he hastily wipes his floury hands against the top of his apron, leaving him looking like he’s just been felt up by the Pillsbury Doughboy.

He stares (it’s not Maddie and Chimney, who are at a preschool interview; it’s not Bobby and Athena, who are meeting with their contractor; it’s not Eddie, who flew out to Texas last night; it’s not Hen and Karen, who are at Denny’s baseball game with Mara; it’s… not…) and stares (it could be…) and as his shaking fingers finally reach for the intercom button there’s a knock on his door and the familiar timbre of a murmured voice he wasn’t sure he’d ever hear again and the cackle of his neighbor, which at least explains how Tommy got up without Buck buzzing him in.

He takes his finger off the button and listens to the sounds of conversation through the door and decides that he’s annoyed about this. After two weeks of silence, Tommy’s just showing up now? What if Buck hadn’t been home? What if he’d had someone over?

Tommy’s got some fucking nerve assuming that Buck wants to talk to him. The whole reason for him baking mountains of carbs is that he doesn’t talk to him.

Tommy doesn’t get to throw Buck’s bisexual discovery in his face and leave him feeling like mottled lemon peel; he doesn’t get to cry and walk out the door and leave Buck here, discarded.

Tommy doesn’t get to dump him and leave him and then just show up again out of the blue while Buck has muffins baking.

It’s not noble and it’s not cool and fuck Tommy for doing this to him. Fuck him.

Before he can wimp out Buck grabs the door handle and wrenches it open and on the other side, looking forlorn and like he hasn’t slept this entire time, is Tommy, holding his chin like he did the first time Buck opened this door to him.

Tommy opens his mouth and Buck is not doing this in front of his neighbors so he grabs the front of his stupidly attractive Henley and drags him into the apartment, glaring at his stupidly attractive face, hating the pull he feels, the saltwater wave of god I missed you, the thirst for Tommy on his tongue.

Fuck you, Buck thinks furiously, and slams their mouths together.

Read on AO3

Respectfully…goddamn you!

"I'm your first, not your last"

You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.