Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Buck is baking bread.

His fingers move without a moment of hesitation. It’s muscle memory. 

Buck has baked this bread many times. Its scent used to float through the house. It used to lure Tommy out of bed on slow Sunday mornings and into the kitchen, where he pressed his body against Buck’s back, still sleep-soft and warm, his chin resting on Buck’s shoulder, as he breathed in the familiar smell and made a pleased humming noise in the back of his throat.

“Hmmm. My favourite.”

Yeah. Tommy’s favourite.

Buck swallows and pushes back the tears. He doesn’t want them to fall into the dough he’s kneading with his fingers right now. He grunts and frowns when his fingers cramp a little. It’s getting more exhausting every time he does this. But he’s used to it by now. Things he did without breaking a sweat years ago now make him tired. Make his bones ache. Make his old injuries act up.

But life is still mostly okay.

He smiles when he hears the door open. When claws click on the floorboards, as Moomin comes running to greet him, her tail wagging wildly and her tongue lolling. “Hey,” Buck says, smiling down at the dog that lightly bumps her head against his knee and whines. “Did you have a nice walk? No, I can’t pet you right now, silly. My fingers are buried in dough.”

Ravi follows their white labrador, smiling as he puts the leash away. “She found a great stick. But lost it when she chose to chase after a squirrel instead.”

“Well. Sounds like an awesome day,” Buck says.

Ravi nods and gives Buck a kiss on his cheek. “Need some help with the bread?” He asks softly.

“No,” Buck says instantly. He is going to bake this bread all by himself. He always does. It’s … It’s how things are supposed to be on this day. On Tommy's birthday.

“Okay,” Ravi says quietly, his hand resting on Buck’s back for a moment. He goes to read on the couch, then, wearing his cute reading glasses and a blanket wrapped around his slender frame. Moomin joins him, putting her head on Ravi’s leg with a satisfied little huff.

And Buck finishes baking the bread.

He watches it rise in the oven and knows: It’s almost time.

Buck puts the little basket with bread in front of Tommy’s gravestone.

“Your favourite,” he says quietly. “I wish you would still wait for it to be finished. Sometimes, I see you sitting there, on a chair in the kitchen, watching me.”

He smiles sadly. “My memories are haunting me all the time.”

Memories of all the people he has lost by now.

They hurt, and they make him cry. But not all the time. Sometimes, memories make him laugh. Or they remind him what’s really important in life.

Your people. They are what make life worth living.

The ghost of his own voice sends a shiver down Buck’s spine.

“You came to the graveyard for me,” he says quietly. “Long ago, when I tried to lift a curse. You came. Dressed in a suit.” Buck shakes his head, smiling to himself. “Oh. It was silly. We did so many silly things.”

Silly things. Stupid things. Nice things.

A few good years.

A few years of love.

“And I don’t regret a second of it,” Buck says quietly.

He turns his head, looking to where Ravi is waiting with Moomin.

“He misses you too. And I wish you had met Moomin,” Buck says. “You would have loved her. Oh, you would have spoiled her.”

He sighs, feeling a bit tired. Soon, he will need to rest his aging bones. “I’m happy. I got everything I need. Love. Warmth. Good memories to look back to. I wish we had more time to be together. All of us. I miss you complaining about Ravi snoring. I miss Ravi teasing you in the morning, when you didn’t have your coffee yet. I miss you. I will always miss you.”

Buck puts his hand on the gravestone for a moment, closing his eyes. “I love you,” he breathes. And then, he walks to his husband and his dog, taking Ravi’s hand, squeezing it tightly, and wishing for more memories filled with love.

Chapter Text

Tommy knows a lot about helicopters. And planes. And cars.

If someone were to ask him about these things, he would be able to talk about them for hours.

Machines have always been some kind of comfort to him. The science behind how they function or dysfunction, is logical. Comprehensible. Science explains why a helicopter rises and stays in the air or why it crashes. Science explains the effects of weather on a chopper, and it explains what can be done to prevent a disaster from happening. Science is clean, sober, real.

Humans aren’t like that.

Humans are complex, unpredictable, and they like to say one thing while they mean another.

They smile, nod, and make intrigued noises while being bored out of their mind.

Or they tell you everything is fine while actually already planning to leave you on a Sunday morning, when you’re still in bed, suspecting nothing, not knowing that at some point, you talked a little too much or not enough, or you are too scared of holding hands in public yet, or they actually weren’t searching for something long-term anyway.

Tommy sighs and takes another sip of his beer, glancing up at the TV, where a football game is running. He’s probably looking a little pathetic to the other people here. But well. He doesn’t have the energy to socialise right now. Neither does he have the energy to stay at home and listen to the silence that makes his thoughts so much louder.

He listens to the conversations around him instead. And to the TV. And to - 

“Help! Is there someone who can help?! I think he’s choking!”

Tommy is already on his feet, approaching the dramatic scene in front of him that makes the other people in the bar step away and stare.

A panicking woman, who’s on the floor, beside a guy who apparently fell off his chair and now is writhing on the floor, his hands clutching at his throat, his eyes wide with fear. He is indeed choking.

“Call 9-1-1”, Tommy tells someone, calmly, then picks up the guy and performs the Heimlich maneuver. The man is instantly spitting out something that looks like bread. He’s shuddering and heaving in Tommy’s arms. The woman he’s with stares at Tommy with her mouth open. “That was so cool,” she blurts, flushing.

Yeah. Tommy gets to hear that a lot. It’s always you’re so cool. It’s never you’re so interesting. Or lovable. Or -

Oh. Stop it. This is ridiculous, Tommy tells himself, annoyed. You were left by some asshole who only thought about himself and thought he could drag you along wherever he wanted to go like some hot and quiet accessory, so what? Get over it already.

“You okay?” He asks the guy who is now sitting on a chair again, halfway upright.

“You just … I think you just saved my life,” the man croaks, staring up at Tommy with wonder in his brown eyes. He’s handsome. Young. Fit. A few drops of sweat roll down his face, dripping off his chin. Tommy watches it fall on the guy’s hand that’s shaking a little.

“He did,” the woman chimes in. “Wasn’t that so cool, Ravi?”

Well. That’s one way you can describe it, Tommy guesses. “Just did what anyone would have done,” he says, shrugging. “Also, I’m a firefighter. Well, firefighter pilot actually.”

And you had to add that, why exactly?

The guy’s - Ravi’s - eyes widen even more. “No way! I just applied to be a firefighter! Oh.” He grimaces. “That makes this even more embarrassing, I guess. Just … Was a bit distracted.” He glances at the woman, who beams at him, but then adds, “Ate too fast because I wanted to leave.”

Tommy blinks.

The woman’s lips part. “What do you mean, leave?” She asks, sounding a little disappointed. “You didn’t enjoy this? Why didn't you tell me?”

Oh. Awkward. 

“Uh, I think I need fresh air,” Ravi says hoarsely, pulling at his collar, his eyes flickering back to Tommy.

Then, the first responders come in, and Tommy makes room for them, shaking his head.

People. Science would never be able to explain them.

Ravi walks into Harbor Station a little while later, a big grin on his face and his raven hair gloriously tousled.

“Hey, lifesaver,” he says brightly.

Tommy thinks that something like this usually only happens in movies. Or books. Certainly not in the real world, where people leave all the time. Because how is it possible Ravi is a probie at the 118 of all the stations he could have been sent to? And he bets it was Howie who told Ravi that Tommy works at Harbor …

Ravi doesn’t leave, even when Tommy barely recognizes him, just continuing to do maintenance on the chopper.

“Hey,” he eventually says when Tommy stays silent, putting his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilting his head. “I think I owe you a beer. Are you free on Saturday?”

“Aren’t you going to be busy with the woman you were with at the bar?” Tommy asks, raising a brow and glancing at Ravi.

“She’s my sister, actually,” Ravi says, smiling. “Brought me to the bar to lighten me up. Because, she said, I was too mopey after my break-up. Well. I almost died. And then got saved. So, are you free?”

Tommy sighs and gives Ravi a look. “I have to warn you. I went through a break-up, too. And right now, I am not sure if I can do something … something like a relationship, you understand?”

“Oh, I understand,” Ravi says. “I’m okay with that. I just want to get to know you, Tommy.”

“You want to get to know me?” Tommy asks, surprised. Well. That’s something new. No one said that before. Not while flirting. And this is flirting, right? He’s almost 80% sure it is.

“Come on, man,” Ravi says with a little laugh. “You’re a firefighter pilot. And I’ve been having a fear of flying my whole life. Of course I’m interested.”

Oh.

“Well, I can try to help you with that,” Tommy says, finally allowing himself to smile too. “A fear of flying is one of the most irrational fears.”

“Yeah, my therapist says that too,” Ravi chuckles. “So. Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Tommy agrees, his heart doing a little fluttery jump.

Science. It can’t explain people. But he can explain science to people. If they ask.

Chapter Text

It’s morning, and Ravi’s new neighbour is crouching in the grass in front of his house, frantically searching through a bush with both of his hands.

The guy seems to be struggling. And Ravi has no idea what exactly he could be struggling with. But it seems intense.

Ravi watches as his neighbour starts to look into all the garbage bin next, sipping tea from his mug and frowning.

Maybe the big guy lost something? His keys?

Apart from the fact that the guy likes to be called Buck, Ravi doesn’t know much about his neighbour. He just moved here. But what he knows is that the guy is nice. Not the too-polite, too-cheery kind of nice. No. He’s the I made you a welcome cake, and I can help you with your furniture, and hey, no way, are you a firefighter too? kind of nice that made Ravi feel … welcome.

This is what makes Ravi put his mug away, shrug on a jacket, and walk outside to help his neighbour find … Well, whatever it is he lost.

“Hey,” he says, and Buck startles, pulling his head out of a garbage can. He looks at Ravi, wide-eyed and flushed. 

“Oh, hey, uh …”

“I noticed you’re searching for something,” Ravi says. “Need a hand?”

“Wow, uh, that’s very kind of you,” Buck says, running a hand through his curls. “I … I’m not even sure how this happened. I lost my frog.”

Ravi blinks. “Your … frog?”

“I have a pet frog,” Buck nods.

Oh.

“Okay,” Ravi says slowly. “This is not what I expected. But hey. At least it’s not a snake. Unless … You also have a snake?”

He’s okay with frogs. He’s not okay with snakes.

Buck chuckles. “No. Just a frog. Saved him in a burning shop and couldn’t let him go. I love frogs. They’re so cool. Did you know they can swallow with their eyes?”

“No.” Ravi is both a little grossed out and … amused. Even endeared? Buck’s smile is somewhat contagious. “But hey, tell me some more facts while we search for your frog? What’s his name anyway?”

“Froggy.”

Of course.

They find Froggy in a shallow pond in a neighbour’s garden.

“I am about to build him one too,” Buck says, while they walk back, holding Froggy in both his hands. “Till then, he’s taking baths in the sink.”

“Hm,” Ravi makes, not really able to look away from the frog’s bulging eyes and the horizontal slits in them.

He learned a lot about frogs today.

Somehow, he feels like it wasn’t enough. Especially when Buck is about to enter his house, but hesitates at the door and looks back at Ravi with a smile. “Thank you,” he says. “For helping. I appreciate it. Uh, you should let me buy you a beer sometime.”

Froggy ribbits once. Very loudly.

“You’re welcome,” Ravi says, putting his hands into the pockets of his jacket, suddenly feeling a little loopy. And it’s not because Froggy doesn’t stop staring at him. “Your cake was delicious, by the way. The best I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” Buck beams. “I can make you some more. Hey, I can make you some now! Do you want to come inside? I have time. It’s my day off. Are you free?"

Oh.

Ravi swallows. He thinks back to a time when he told his therapist that maybe he’s pushing people away because he’s so used to everyone … pitying him. Pitying him for being sick. Pitying him for spending all his time in the hospital, with doctors and machines. Pitying him for his lost childhood and the chance that he might die. Soon. Too soon.

All the attention he got back then felt too … syrupy.

Too sweet and sticky. Like something that is forced into your throat but will only help for a short amount of time.

And his therapist said, “You can close this chapter of your life and open a new one now. For new people, new memories. Allow yourself to be a little adventurous again, Ravi."

Buck’s open door seems like a new memory waiting.

So Ravi smiles and says, “Yeah, I’m free.”