"Hey, you okay?"

Buck looks up from where he's been pushing his food around on his plate. Tommy is staring at him, brow slightly furrowed.

"Yeah," Buck says, forcing a smile "I'm fine." In reality, he hasn't been feeling very good for most of the day. But this is the first really fancy date he and Tommy have been on, the first date period that they've been on in what feels like ages. And Tommy looks really good in that button down... "Why?"

"You've been really quiet all night, and you've barely eaten." His lips press together and he takes a deep breath, then reaches forward across the table to put his hand on Buck's, his eyes earnest. "I know this is a little more formal than we've gotten before—a lot more formal—and if-"

"Tommy!" Buck interrupts, moving his thumb to brush the back of Tommy's. This time, the smile comes more easily. "It's nothing like that, okay? I promise. I'm feeling a little off, that's all. Like, physically, not emotionally, or sexually. Um." He clears his throat and feels his ears go hot as Tommy barely conceals a smirk. "I mean with my sexuality. Being here, with you is-is great. Just, I don't know. I've been nauseous for a few hours, and I'm sort of run down."

Tommy leans back, his stance relaxing a little, though he still looks slightly concerned. "You should've said something, Evan. We could've rescheduled."

Buck hangs his head with a sigh. "I know but we've been looking forward to this for weeks. And I was actually thinking about rescheduling but then you sent me that picture of you in your outfit and I couldn't stop thinking about how much I want to see you out of it..." He looks up and the look in Tommy's eye is enough to make Buck (briefly) forget that he's not feeling well. "Maybe you should order some dessert. And eat it, like, really slow, and maybe I'll feel better by the time you're done?"

Tommy lets out a short laugh. "Well, I'm glad you liked the picture. I will definitely remember that for future reference. But with you not feeling well, and me worrying about you not feeling well, I'm not sure either of us would really get to enjoy ourselves."

Buck is fairly certain that he would still enjoy himself at least a little, but he gets where Tommy is coming from so he resists the urge to whine and lets out a resigned sigh instead. "Ugh, you're right. I don't like it, but you're right." His stomach chooses that moment to churn uncomfortably and nausea rises in his throat. He swallows hard, and Tommy must notice his discomfort because his brow furrows.

"Let's get the check and I'll take you home."

Buck looks morosely at his uneaten dinner, then up at his boyfriend, and nods. "Yeah, okay. I'm sorry about this."

"Hey," Tommy says gently, and one corner of his mouth lifts in a soft half-smile. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Ev. We'll reschedule. Don't worry about it."

Buck is quiet as Tommy calls a waiter over. The nausea, which for most of the evening had existed as merely uncomfortable background noise, has gotten much worse in the past few minutes. He takes slow, deliberate breaths, in through nose and out through the mouth. It doesn't help much. The waiter has just brought Tommy's card back when Buck's stomach decides to revolt entirely, and Buck stands abruptly.

"Sorry," he says, and rushes toward the men's room. He hears Tommy stand too, and say his name, but he doesn't slow. Thankfully there's no one else in the bathroom when he bursts in and rushes into the nearest stall to throw up in the toilet. When he gets done, he wipes a shaky hand across his mouth and looks up at Tommy, who's watching him with a mixture of worry and sympathy.

"You okay?"

"Believe it or not," Buck says, cracking a smile in spite of how awful he feels, "this isn't the most embarrassing thing that's happened to me on a date. At least you didn't have to give me an emergency trach."

Tommy stares at him for a second, and then one corner of his mouth twists up a little and he shakes his head. He extends a hand. "Come on."

Buck takes the proffered hand gratefully and Tommy helps him to his feet. There's a twinge in Buck's back and he grimaces.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Tommy says.

Buck nods. He must have stood a little awkwardly or something, because the pain, in the lower right side of his back, persists. Great. A pulled muscle on top of feeling like crap is just what he needs right now. Tommy is already worried enough, though, so he doesn't mention it.

"I'm okay."

Tommy narrows his eyes a little and presses his hand against Buck's forehead. "Hm. You feel like you could be running a fever."

"It's just a bug or something," Buck says. He starts toward the door and Tommy follows. "It'll clear up in a day or two. I just hope I didn't pass on whatever it is to you."

Tommy snorts a little. "I almost hope you did. Then maybe I could get out of testifying tomorrow."

"Well if you want me to get you sick, I can think of a way to increase the likelihood that happens."

"Evan," Tommy says in a stern voice, but there's no real weight to it, and when Buck glances over at him, there's a shine in his eye.

They drive to Buck's place with the windows down, partially because it's a nice evening but mostly so Buck can get some fresh air and hopefully not get sick in Tommy's car. Neither of them talk much, but the quiet between them is comfortable. It's about the only part of the drive that is. Buck had hoped that maybe puking would make him feel better, but he has not been so fortunate. He makes it back to his apartment without getting sick, though, so at least there's that. Tommy walks him to his door.

"I'll check in tomorrow morning before court."

You don't have to do that, Buck almost says, but he knows what Tommy will say, and the face he'll make when he says it. With his eyebrows scrunched into a tiny frown and his mouth pulled to one side in that expression he gets that means he thinks someone just said something kind of stupid. He'll say, Okay, but I want to.

And honestly, Buck wants him to, too. So instead he smiles. "Thanks, babe."

"Of course. You get some rest, Evan, and feel better." He leans forward and plants a kiss on Buck's hair. Buck smiles.

"I will. I'm sure it's nothing."

xxx

So. It's definitely not nothing. He'd managed to get to sleep around midnight, despite the persistent and worsening ache in his back, but a little before five in the morning it got bad enough to wake him up. He'd ended up stumbling into the bathroom to throw up shortly after that, and has done so two more times since. He's pretty sure, from things he's seen on the job and from stories Maddie has told and from reading several articles, that he has a kidney stone. He's been sipping at a glass of watered-down apple cider vinegar for about an hour now, which is sort of disgusting but is supposed to help.

He's startled when there's a knock at the door, and he frowns. It's eight am. He's wearing basketball shorts and a ratty old tee from a mud run he'd done when he was in Oregon, he hasn't showered, and he's pretty sure he probably looks close to as terrible as he feels. Maybe if he doesn't answer, whoever it was will go away. He waits for a few seconds, sighing when there's another knock. The ache in his back sharpens as he levers himself up from the couch, and he lets out a pained sound.

"Damn it," he mutters as he shuffles toward the door, his right hand pressed against his back. He opens the door and immediately feels just a little better at the sight of Tommy standing there with a cloth grocery bad in one hand. There's a smile on his face that quickly fades as he looks Buck over.

"Babe, what are you doing here?" Buck says before Tommy can ask how he's feeling.

"Well, I said I would check in on you this morning. I thought I'd drop by and do it in person." He lifts the bag. "I brought you some Propel. They didn't have any peach, so I got mango instead. I wanted to make sure you stay hydrated, keep your electrolytes up...You feeling any better?"

"Uh..." Buck considers lying, but Tommy raises an eyebrow at him and he thinks better of it. He reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. "Not really. It was a rough night."

"You're looking pretty flushed..." Tommy reaches up and presses his hand against Buck's forehead. "Well, if you didn't have a fever last night, you've definitely got one now."

There's a sudden, sharp twinge and Buck bites back a groan—or, tries to, with middling success. Tommy's face grows more concerned than it already was.

"What's hurting?" he says.

Buck sighs. "It's my back. I'm pretty sure I've got a kidney stone." Tommy's eyes climb up his forehead and Buck quickly adds, "I took some Aspirin a little bit ago for the fever, I'll be okay."

"Kidney stones can be serious, Ev. And they can hurt. I've heard they can be worse than childbirth."

"Uh, yeah. Not sure you're qualified to say that unless you've actually given birth."

"Evan," he says gently. "I'm serious. If the pain gets really bad, you should go to the ER. It's okay to get help."

"No, I know that." He means it, too. But Buck has had enough emergency room visits in his lifetime to know that he'd rather tough things out at home than in a plastic chair in a waiting room full of other miserable people. "I know, just...I'm not a big fan of the ER, ya know? Like, the place, not the show, the show is-is actually pretty good..."

"Evan." Tommy says it more firmly this time, fixing Buck with a stare.

"Fine," Buck relents. "If it gets really bad, I'll go in. I promise."

"Good," Tommy says. He leans forward and plants a kiss on Buck's forehead. "I won't be able to check my phone while I'm in court, but keep me updated anyway."

Buck nods. "Yeah. I will. Thank you for stopping by, and for the Propel." He reaches for the bag, but Tommy doesn't let go of the handle.

"Oh, it's not free, just so you know. You'll be paying me back for it once you're feeling better."

Buck lifts one corner of his mouth as he feels heat rush to his ears. He really wishes he were feeling better so that he could enjoy this more. "Maybe if it were peach. But mango?"

Tommy glares at him but there's a glint in his eye, and he hands the bag over. "I'll see you later."

"See ya," Buck says. "Have fun in court."

Tommy snorts and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, it'll be a blast. You feel better."

"I'll try."

Buck shuts the door as Tommy leaves and drops the bag of Propel on the floor, stretching first back and then bending forward, putting his hands on his knees as he tries to find a position that will ease the pain in his back. Nothing works though. His stomach churns and he barely makes it to the toilet before the vinegar and water burn their way back up.

"Oh, god," he murmurs, leaning his head on his arm. He's exhausted and he feels like shit. Part of him is tempted to just stay here on the floor, but it's uncomfortable and if he has any chance at getting a bit of sleep, he should really get back in bed. He forces himself to his feet and makes his way back to the kitchen to grab a Propel to take with him. He grabs a bowl, too, so that if he's sick again he won't have to get up from his bed once he's settled.

Though, now that he's looking at the stairs he'd have to climb to get to his bed, he thinks the couch'll be just as good. Well, good enough. He lowers himself onto it with a groan and closes his eyes, shifting around a few times to try and get more comfortable. It doesn't work, just like the stretching earlier hadn't worked, and just like tossing and turning all night hadn't worked. His back still hurts.

Still, probably not as bad as childbirth, he thinks. Though, he doesn't get a baby at the end of this. It's with that thought that he finally manages to drift off into a fitful sleep.

xxx

Buck is pretty sure this has been the longest day of his life. He'd managed to sleep off for about an hour, at which point the pain had gotten bad enough that he could no longer relax enough to fully drift off. He'd ended up squirming uncomfortably for another hour after that, desperately hoping to somehow find a position that would make him feel even a little bit better, but had no such luck. So he's spent the day drinking a lot of water and trying to distract himself however he can.

Mostly it's involved half-watching random movies from his watch-list (the second half of Point Break, followed by Road House and then Ghost, because what better way to spend a sick day than with an impromptu Swayze marathon) and scrolling idly on his phone. He'd tried doing some of his daily puzzles, but that level of concentration proved too much for his current state so it's been Instagram instead, plus the trivia sections on IMDb of the movies he's watching (apparently Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze both wanted to be athletes but became actors after getting knee injuries) (something for Buck to think about if a firetruck ever crushes his leg again).

He's just watched the iconic pottery scene (watched is putting it generously—he's barely been able to pay attention to the screen for the last twenty minutes or so) when he reaches the grim conclusion that he's probably reached his threshold of really bad. Which means it's time to keep his promise to Tommy and go to the emergency room. Unfortunately, he's not sure he'll actually be able to drive himself there. Not safely anyway.

He briefly considers calling an Uber, but he doesn't want to risk getting sick in the backseat, and there's no way he's calling 911 for a kidney stone. Maddie and Chim are at the zoo with the kids today, and Hen has enough on her plate trying to deal with the Councilwoman Ortiz situation. Bobby has a job interview as a consultant or something. Which leaves Eddie. Eddie, who's been in a rough place emotionally the last couple months but who keeps trying to act like everything is fine. Eddie, who definitely doesn't need extra stress right now but Buck doesn't really have any other options.

"Damn it," he murmurs, reaching for his phone.

He's about to dial Eddie's number when the pain just...stops. He lets out a long, tentative breath that ends as a startled chuckle when the pain doesn't immediately come back. He closes out of the phone app. Thank god. He just sits for a minute, enjoying the break from feeling like there's a knife twisting in his back, and then stands and heads for the stairs.

He takes a quick shower, cleaning away the fever-sweat, and throws on some clean clothes. And then he crashes onto his bed. It's so comfortable compared to the couch that he could almost cry. He's exhausted, and now he can finally, finally, get some actual rest.

This time, sleep comes easily.

xxx

He wakes up in agony.

There's confusion, at first. Just confusion and an awful, sickening pain. His stomach lurches and he somehow forces his aching body to turn onto its side before he throws up. He thinks he missed the bed. Mostly. He thought he felt bad before, but this is so much worse. Instead of being localized to the right side of his back, the pain is radiating throughout his entire abdomen and he's shivering which is weird because his sheets are soaked through with sweat. His thoughts feel sluggish, but one manages to work its way to the front.

I don't think this is a kidney stone.

Whatever is happening to him, whatever's wrong, he needs help. He fumbles for his phone, swearing when he sees that the battery is almost empty, the little icon on the corner of his screen red instead of its usual white. He doesn't have a lot of time.

He dials the most recent number.

It only rings once before Tommy's voice greets him. "This is Tommy Kinard. Leave a message after the beep or, you know. Text."

"Damn it," Buck murmurs, hanging up. His fingers are shaking, and he's not sure how much of it is from the fact that he feels like he's dying, and how much is from nerves as the situation grows more urgent. Whatever the reason, his hands are clumsy as he pulls up the dial screen. Three numbers. It's just three numbers. Easy.

He's just about to hit the 1 for the second time when his phone screen goes dark, a large empty battery symbol flashing on the screen before it goes completely black.

"Shit." He stares at his dead phone, as if somehow that could will it back to life. And then there's a sharp, horrible jolt of pain through his gut and he curls in on himself, his phone falling, forgotten, to the floor.

xxx

Tommy pulls his phone out of the small locker where they'd made him keep it while he was in court. The trial had ended up dragging on for what felt like an eternity. It was also immensely boring, way more boring than the courtroom dramas he's seen on tv had led him to believe. By the time he'd been called to the stand, he was almost excited to talk about the arson case just because it finally gave him something to do. The relief he feels upon having his phone in hand is almost embarrassing. He doesn't think of himself as being addicted to technology or anything, but he definitely didn't realize how much he'd come to rely on his phone to get him through life's tedious moments.

He's just gotten out of the courthouse and is headed toward the parking garage when his phone finishes booting up, and the notifications start flooding in a second later: emails, news alerts, a few texts, and, about an hour ago, a missed call from Evan. A missed call, but no message. He checks the texts he'd missed, but none of them are from him. He presses the call back button, frowning a little when it goes straight to voicemail.

"Hey, Evan. I'm just now getting out of court, finally. Did you know that real-life lawyers are actually incredibly boring? Not a single Perry Mason or Harvey Spector among them. I feel cheated. Anyway, just wanted to see how you're doing. Call me back."

He hangs up, then shoots Evan a text for good measure.

How're you feeling? Call me!

There's still no answer by the time he gets to his car. In all likelihood, Evan's just away from his phone, napping or taking a shower, but there's a feeling in Tommy's gut that he just can't shake. Evan's apartment is less than ten minutes from the courthouse; it'll be easy just to stop by and check in on him. There's a brief moment of self-consciousness, where Tommy wonders if two in-person welfare checks in one day is too much for a relationship that still feels new, but honestly he thinks Evan would probably do the same. Following instinct is an important habit in a job like theirs.

Evan still hasn't texted or called back by the time Tommy gets to his apartment; it makes Tommy's stomach turn. He knocks on the door and waits, listening for an answer, or any sign of movement. But there's nothing. Which doesn't necessarily mean something is wrong, but it still makes him nervous. He knocks again, louder this time. When there's still no answer, he tries the handle, a little surprised when it's unlocked.

"Evan?" he calls, opening the door and stepping into the apartment and pulling the door shut behind him. "Hey, babe, you okay?" It doesn't take long to determine that Evan's not downstairs, and Tommy moves toward the stairs "I'm coming up."

His heart pounds as he moves up the staircase. The sick feeling is getting worse, dread settling heavily in his gut. That dread moves up into his chest as he reaches Evan's doorway, making his heard skip a beat. Evan is on his side on the bed, curled into the fetal position. The smell hits a second later, of vomit and sickness. Tommy barely notices as he rushes to Evan's side.

"Oh, god," he breathes. Evan is trembling, and there's sweat beading his forehead. "Evan?" He reaches forward to touch Evan's face, fingers brushing skin that's far too warm. Much warmer than it had been when Tommy came by to check on him this morning.

"Hey, Evan." He's mildly surprised how easy it is for him to fall into the professional, authoritative voice he uses when he's working, given that it's his boyfriend here instead of a stranger. "Come on, Buckley, I need you to talk to me. Open your eyes."

Evan makes a small sound, but doesn't respond otherwise.

"I'm gonna roll you onto your back so I can get a look at you, okay?" Tommy says, even though he's not sure Evan can hear him. He puts one hand on Evan's shoulder and one on his hip. He tries to be gentle as he rolls him, but the movement it still enough that Evan lets out a cry that makes the hair on Tommy's neck stand. He keeps moving though, until Evan is on his back.

"Evan." He gives Evan's face a gentle pat. "Evan, hey, where does it hurt?"

Evan groans a little, lips parting, and then he murmurs, "M' stomach."

"Your stomach," Tommy repeats, mind racing. "Is it just in one spot, or does it hurt everywhere?"

Another groan. "Everywhere." He's panting for breath, his face pinched with pain.

Tommy has never had a kidney stone, but he knows if a bad one goes untreated it can lead to an infection. Maybe that's what's happening here? It seems like a short time for things to get this bad...He takes Evan's hand in his and squeezes.

"Open your eyes for me," he says. Evan's eyes move beneath the lids and then open, fever-glazed gaze finding Tommy's. "Has it been this bad all day?"

"Stopped for a bit," Evan says, the words quiet and slurred. Tommy's stomach drops.

"What?"

"Was gonna...gonna go to the ER. But I felt better. 'n then I felt worse..."

"Your back pain. Was it on the right side?"

Evan nods.

Damn it.

"Have you had your appendix out?" Tommy asks, because he's starting to suspect (fear) that that's what's going on here. Steadily worsening pain as pressure built in the infected organ as it grew more and more inflamed, and then relief once it burst—followed by worse pain as the infection spread through his abdominal cavity.

Evan doesn't answer, blinking heavily, lost again with fever and pain. Tommy squeezes his hand. "Hey, Evan! Come on, I need you to answer the question, hon. Have you had your appendix out?"

"N...no."

"Okay," Tommy says. He's surprised out how steady he sounds, despite how scared shitless he is. "Do you think that if I help you, you can get to my car?"

Evan doesn't answer right away, but slowly bobs his head once.

"Good. We'll take it slow, babe, okay?"

Despite taking it slow, though, Evan has a hard time even getting upright. He's barely sat up before he's curling in on himself, his arms wrapping around his middle as he lets out tiny, barely audible whimpers.

"Evan..." Tommy begins, but Evan grabs his wrist, looking up with red-rimmed eyes.

"I can do it."

Evan's grip on his wrist tightens almost to the point of being painful as Tommy helps him to his feet, and they make it two clumsy steps toward the door before Evan's legs collapse beneath him and he crumples to the floor.

"Evan!" The cry is out of alarm, not anger, but Evan's brow furrows, mouth pulling down at the corners.

"'m sorry," he says, voice cracking a little.

"No, no." Tommy's heart aches as he kneels besides him, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead. "You don't need to apologize. I've got you, babe. I gotcha." He gathers Evan's sweaty, trembling form carefully into his arms and stands, grateful for years of practice that have made lifting a grown man a fairly straightforward task.

"'Sorry," Evan repeats, his voice a barely audible whisper as Tommy goes down the stairs as quickly as he can.

"It's okay," Tommy assures him. Evan is barely conscious by the time Tommy gets down to the living room, his head lolling against Tommy's shoulder.

"New plan," he says, laying Evan carefully down on the couch. He pulls his phone from his back pocket. "I'm gonna call an ambulance." Part of him expects, or hopes maybe, for Evan to argue, but he doesn't, just lays there gasping.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Tommy rattles off the pertinent information and then, once he knows help is on the way, hangs up and turns his attention back to his boyfriend. "Stay with me," he says, gripping Evan's hand tight and running his thumb over the back of his knuckles. Usually it's a way to show his affection; now, it's a quiet and desperate attempt to keep Evan's focus on him, to form a tether that will keep him from drifting away. "Stay with me, Evan, come on."

Evan makes a small sound, but doesn't open his eyes.

By the time the paramedics get there, he's stopped responding altogether.

xxx

Tommy watches as they wheel Evan away to an operating room, staring at the double doors as they swing back shut. It's not the first time someone he cares about has had a medical emergency, and he's keenly aware of the fact that it's not the first time Evan has had one.

Neither of those things makes him feel better.

Things happen on the job. That's just a part of it. Granted, the chances of having a ladder truck land on you or being struck by lightning are pretty slim, but still. You put that uniform on, you have to be comfortable with the fact that you're more likely than most to end up in the back of an ambulance. And if it's not you, it'll be the person in uniform next to you. It's a reality that Tommy and Evan have discussed and are prepared to handle.

But Evan's not wearing his uniform. He could've died, and he wasn't even at work today.

Tommy wasn't prepared for this.

"Sir?"

Tommy startles and turns to the woman who'd spoken. It's obvious that she's waiting for a response to a question that Tommy hadn't even heard.

"I'm sorry, I was just uh." He lets out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face. "Lost in my thoughts there for a minute. Could you repeat that?"

"That's alright. Is there any family we can call?"

It would be a lot easier just to let somebody else break the news to Maddie, to not have to hear her voice when she finds out that her little brother is in the hospital, again. She'd forgive him, and so would Buck. But Tommy isn't sure he could forgive himself. So he shakes his head.

"No, thank you. I'll do it."

He wanders a little, hunting down a spot that's quiet and at least somewhat private. He practices what he's going to say in his mind as he walks. He knows it's going to suck no matter what, but maybe he can soften the blow a little? He takes a deep breath and dials Maddie's number. It rings long enough that he thinks she isn't going to answer, and then

"Hello?"

"Maddie," Tommy says. He starts pacing, his free hand clenching and unclenching.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"It's Tommy. I got your number from that group chat that Evan started?"

"Tommy!" she says brightly. "Wow, hi! This is unexpected. What's up?"

Before Tommy has the chance to respond, a voice comes over the intercom.

"Doctor Green to curtain 3 please, Doctor Green to curtain 3."

Tommy winces. So much for breaking the news gently.

"What was that?" Maddie demands, voice suddenly sharp. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the hospital," Tommy says. "Evan, he, um. It's his appendix."

Maddie sucks in a sharp breath. "How bad?"

Tommy stops pacing. He's never had to do this before. It's always been his captain that makes the calls to family members. This sucks.

"It ruptured," he says, and Maddie makes a small sound.

"Oh, my god." He hears Chimney's voice in the background and Maddie says, slightly muffled, "Buck's appendix ruptured." She addresses Tommy again. "How long ago?"

"I'm not sure. They just took him in for emergency surgery."

"Which hospital?" Maddie asks. "I'm coming."

"We're at Good Sam."

"Okay. Okay, I'll be there in, like, ten minutes."

Tommy hasn't had many opportunities to talk with Maddie, and has never spent time with her one on one. But he knows her well enough, from their few interactions and from Buck, to know that she'll have a lot of questions. And he'd better be ready to answer them.

He's in one of the waiting areas when she arrives, breathless and a little frazzled. She looks around at the occupied chairs, and he's about to get her attention when her eyes land on his and she hurries over. There's orange face paint on the left side of her face, starting near her eyebrow and reaching around her temple and onto her cheekbone, black stripes painted on the orange to mimic a tiger. Tommy swears internally.

"Maddie," he says, standing to greet her. "I'm so sorry. You weren't still at the zoo, were you?"

She blinks a little, startled. "No, we'd just gotten in the door when you called. How did you know about the zoo?"

"Evan told me. And-" He gestures vaguely at his own face. Maddie flushes a little, briefly brushing her fingers against her cheekbone.

"Right. I forgot about that." She grabs both of Tommy's hands and starts lowering herself into a chair. "Sit."

Tommy does, sitting in the seat next to her.

"What happened?"

Tommy tells her everything – how Evan hadn't been feeling well on their date, how he'd had a fever this morning but seemed in good spirits, convinced that it was a kidney stone. The missed call. How Tommy had found him, shaking with fever and pain and barely conscious. Maddie stays quiet the whole time Tommy speaks. Her eyes are welling up by the time he finishes and she sniffs, swiping at a tear that slips down one cheek and smearing orange and black face paint as she does. She looks at the smudges on her hand and lets out a choked sound that's halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"Damn it!" she says. She shakes her head and looks up toward the ceiling, or maybe to some higher power, as she lets out a long sigh. "Of course he would think he could just ride out a kidney stone on his own."

Tommy lets out a startled snort. Maddie continues.

"He's always been like this. Good at listening to his intuition, but really terrible at listening to his body." She looks over at Tommy with a watery smile. "Getting better at listening to his heart, though...Are you okay?" She glances down at Tommy's leg. He hadn't even noticed it start to bounce. He stops moving.

"I'm fine," he says, trying to return the smile. He's not fine, but it's not about him right now. "Sorry."

"Appendectomies usually take about an hour once the patient is put under," Maddie says, "but it might be a little longer since they'll have to do an open one, and clean out the infection." She's switched into professional mode now, her words level and matter-of-fact. "Coming out of the anesthesia won't take too long, but they'll keep him in the PACU until he's fully awake and ready to be moved to his room...It'll be a few hours at least before we can see him."

A few hours isn't that long, but the idea of just waiting around in this room full of anxious and grieving people, in this building with its antiseptic smell and pale, joyless walls, is suddenly overwhelming and he needs to get out. He needs to do...something. Something other than sitting with all of his worry and guilt.

"I'm gonna go in the bathroom and wash this off," Maddie is saying, standing. Tommy stands too, a little too quickly, and Maddie takes a step back, a little confused frown on her face. "Oh."

"I actually need to take off," Tommy says, shame flooding him as he edges toward the hall. This is messed up, leaving her here by herself. He knows it, but he also knows that staying here will drive him crazy. "I'm – I'm really sorry. It was really nice to see you again. I'll be back. Keep me updated!"

He turns quickly so he doesn't have to see the look on Maddie's face, slipping away before she has the chance to respond. He remembers, belatedly, that he hadn't actually driven here. Everything from the time the paramedics showed up to the moment Buck was whisked away to surgery, including the ambulance ride, is a bit of a blur. Fear and adrenaline will do that.

"Shit," he mutters, getting his phone out so he can get an Uber. He's just confirmed the trip when a text comes through.

It's from Maddie.

You ok?

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath as he shakes his head. "Shit."

He's too frayed at the moment to explain himself well, or come up with a good excuse. He cringes as he sends a thumbs-up emoji. That's something mid-20s Tommy would do.

Tommy doesn't have much love for that guy.

The Uber doesn't take long; it's LA, after all. The driver of the green Camry is an older man with a broad smile that seems out of place in front of a hospital.

"You got enough leg room back there?" he asks as Tommy folds himself into the backseat, turning down the grungy music playing through the speakers.

"All good," Tommy says with a short nod.

"You a doctor?" the driver asks after a minute.

"Firefighter."

"Oh, that makes sense. What would a doctor need with all those muscles, right?" He laughs, and Tommy forces a polite chuckle. There's another moment of quiet and then, "So...You got someone in there, then?"

"My boyfriend."

"Huh," the driver says a little too loudly as he glances at Tommy in the rear-view mirror. "Sorry to hear that, man." Surprisingly, he doesn't say anything else, but he does change the music at the next red light. The crunchy guitar and screamy vocals are replaced with bright Euro-pop.

Tommy doesn't have the heart to tell the man, who's obviously trying to be accommodating, that he hates ABBA, and honestly he's sort of grateful for the distraction. It's hard to get too deep into his thoughts with the harmonies of Super Trouper playing in the background.

"Where should I let you out?" the driver says as they near Evan's building where Tommy's truck is still parked.

"This parking lot is fine," Tommy says, and the driver nods, pulling into the lot. Tommy unbuckles and has just gotten out of the car when the driver's voice stops him.

"Hey!" Tommy bends to look at him through the rolled down passenger window. "Just wanted to say, I hope he's okay."

Tommy offers a half-smile and a little wave. "He will be. Thanks."

He takes a deep breath as the man drives off, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders sag as he exhales. It's hard to believe that this morning he was dropping off Propel for Evan. That feels like ages ago. And the day's not over yet. It'll still be awhile before he hears anything about how the surgery went. That time is going to drag on forever if he doesn't fill it.

A quick store run later, and Tommy's back at Evan's apartment, armed with rubber gloves, carpet cleaner, a soft-bristled brush, and the scented dryer sheets he uses that he knows Evan likes. He carries them up to the bedroom, and has to pause at the doorway as his body remembers the horrible feeling of dread that filled him the last time he walked into this room, the same painful weight settling in his middle. He has to remind himself that Evan is in good hands.

He's gonna be okay.

He steps into the room, immediately heading to the door that leads out to the balcony and opening it to let in some fresh air. The bed is the next order of business, so that the sheets can get going in the wash. He pulls the comforter off, then the top sheet. He's moving to grab the pillows when he spots Evan's phone, lying on the rug next to a still slightly damp patch of sick. The screen stays black when he picks it up, setting it on the nightstand. He plugs it in, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as a big red battery appears.

No wonder he didn't answer when Tommy tried to call him back. An image of Evan, curled up and delirious with pain and fever and unable to call for help, flashes through his mind. He pushes the thought firmly down.

Gotta keep busy.

He pulls off the fitted sheet and pillow cases and throws everything into the washing machine. Then it's back upstairs to clean the rug. He's scrubbing it down when his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He shoots to his feet, pulling it out. It's a text from Chimney.

Buck's out of surgery. Went well! Still in PACU but will be in a room soon, will let you know room #

Tommy reads it and the relief is almost dizzying. He sits heavily on the edge of the bed and lets out a short laugh. Of course Evan is fine. The chances of dying from appendicitis, even if it's ruptured, are pretty small. Then again, the odds of getting struck by lightning are minuscule, and Evan had managed to do that. If it were going to happen to anyone...

But it didn't, Tommy reminds himself. It didn't, and Evan is going to be okay.

He feels a little lighter as he finishes cleaning the carpet, but now that the noise of the worry has died down he knows that other feelings are going to be vying for his attention. He's determined not to give it to them.

The washing machine is finished, so Tommy swaps the laundry, making sure to put in one of the dryer sheets he bought. It'll be another forty minutes before the sheets are dry and ready to go back on the bed, so he wanders into the kitchen. Evan keeps it clean, practically immaculate. The counter-top and island are sparkling, there are no dishes in the sink, the stove looks like he never uses it which is crazy since Tommy knows for a fact that he made tomato sauce from scratch just last week. He opens the dishwasher, on the off-chance it needs to be unloaded, and practically cheers at the sight of clean dishes ready to be put away.

The sound of someone at the door dampens the mood instantly. It's obviously not Evan, since he just got out of surgery. He moves quickly to the knife block, pulling one out right as the door opens. He whirls, and immediately lowers the knife.

"Eddie," he breathes. "God, I thought you were someone breaking in."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "It's a good thing I'm not, 'cus I'm not sure what kind of damage you'll do to an intruder with a little steak knife. What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Tommy retorts, putting the knife back and making a mental note to memorize which knife is which.

"Maddie asked me to come by and grab a few things, since Buck is gonna be spending some time in the hospital." He closes the door and walks over, stopping near the table. "Your turn."

"His sheets needed washing," Tommy says.

Eddie's eyes narrow slightly, brow pulling down into a small frown. "Uh huh...So you're unloading the dishwasher?"

"Well the sheets are still in the dryer, and I needed to keep busy."

Eddie's expression shifts to one of sympathy. "Shit. Chim said he'd text you. Did he not? Buck's out of surgery. He's gonna be fine, just needs to be on IV antibiotics for a few days so they can make sure the infection clears up all the way."

"He told me," Tommy says, moving back to the dishwasher and taking out a clean plate to put in the cupboard. "Is Maddie upset? I feel awful about how I left. We don't know each other very well and that's...it's not who I am." He doesn't add, and I don't want her to think that it is.

"Not upset," Eddie answers. He moves forward, grabbing a couple more plates and holding them out. "Confused, for sure. And worried. She said you seemed really anxious."

Tommy takes the plates. "Thanks. Yeah. I definitely got a little overwhelmed. Hospitals...I mean, no one likes hospitals – though with the 188's track record it almost seems like you guys do – " Eddie snorts at that. "– but I normally do okay. But I've also never been good at just waiting. It feels better if I can be doing something. I don't know. I just had to get out and keep moving."

"That makes sense," Eddie says. "I did the same thing when Shannon got pregnant –" He cuts himself off mid-sentence, stiffening, his eyes getting a pained, far-off look. Tommy doesn't know the whole story, just that Eddie's son had decided to live with his grandparents for a bit after some sort of falling out and that Eddie's been taking it pretty hard.

"You okay?" Tommy ventures, and Eddie blinks, one corner of his mouth lifting.

"Yeah! Yeah, sorry. The point is, I get it Tommy. Maddie will, too." He holds up a potato masher. "Where does this go?"

"Uh..."

"We'll just leave it and let Buck put it away when he gets home," Eddie says, putting it back in the dishwasher.

Tommy nods. "Good plan."

They put away the last few dishes, then Tommy follows Eddie up to Evan's room. Eddie pulls a duffel bag out of the closet and tosses it on the bed.

"Buck's got a little zippered – what do you call that? Like, uh..." Eddie snaps, trying to think of the word, then points excitedly. "Toiletry bag! He's got a toiletry bag under the sink for traveling if you wanna grab that and put his toothbrush and stuff in there."

"I can do that," Tommy says. He goes into the bathroom and opens the cabinet under the sink, pulling out the blue toiletry bag. He puts in Evan's toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, retainer, and a stick of deodorant. "Should I pack his razor?"

"Depends," Eddie replies. "How much stubble do you want to be kissing?"

Tommy snorts, then adds Evan's razor and shaving cream to the bag. Not that he won't kiss him if he doesn't shave, but he wants to make sure he at least has the option. He zips the bag shut and walks back out to the bedroom.

"Do you own a razor?" Tommy asks innocently, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you guys. I like the mustache."

Tommy nods with faux seriousness. "Right. Right, I'm sorry."

"You are not. 'kay, I've got a change of clothes for when he's discharged, plus extra sweats if they'll let him wear them, his phone and charger, a couple of books..." Eddie takes the bag out of Tommy's hands and adds it to the duffel. "...toiletries...Am I forgetting anything?"

"Don't think so. And if you are, text me and I'll bring it with me when I come."

"You aren't coming right now? They'll probably start letting people in to see him before too long."

"Sheets are still in the dryer," Tommy says. "Besides, they only let two visitors in at a time. And if I'm there, then everyone is going to insist that I go first and I..." He pauses, trying to find the right words. "I'm new. I'm not family, you know? And his family should be with him. Maddie, and the 118. It'll be easier if I just wait."

Eddie studies him for a long moment, then smiles a little and claps Tommy on the arm. "You're a good guy, Tommy. I get what you're saying, but you do know that you are family, right? You're not 118, but you did save Athena and Cap. That makes you family."

It makes Tommy's chest ache, just a little, that old jealousy flaring. But he just smiles. "A second cousin, at best."

"Nah, man, don't sell yourself short. You're definitely a first cousin."

It comes out of nowhere, the thought he's been trying to push down suddenly flooding his whole mind, and before he can stop himself he blurts, "It feels like my fault."

Eddie frowns. "How?"

"I knew he wasn't feeling well," Tommy says. "Knew he had a fever. He could've died. I should have made him go in this morning."

Eddie lets out a loud bark of laughter and shakes his head. "Oh, Tommy. I sometimes forget that you haven't known Buck for very long. Making him do anything that he doesn't want to do is like...Well, it's pretty much impossible. I think Cap – er, Bobby – is the only person he listens to, and even then..." He shakes his head again. "It's not your fault, man. Seriously. Look, Maddie is probably wondering what's taking me so long. I should head to the hospital." He zips the duffel bag shut and slings it over one shoulder. "See you later."

"Yeah, I'll see you Eddie."

He still can't shake the feeling that it's at least a little bit his fault, but saying it out loud seems to have helped. The urge to keep busy is dying down. He lays down on Buck's bed and waits for the dryer to finish.

xxx

Buck wakes up to the sound of gentle snoring. He opens his eyes, forwning, and it takes a minute to orient himself, the events of the previous day slowly solidifying into solid memories. Right. He's in the hospital, because he had to get an emergency appendectomy after Tommy found him-Tommy. He looks over to find the source of the snoring and breaks into a broad grin.

"Tommy!" He's a little over-eager, says the name a little more loudly than his throat can handle (it's still raw from the breathing tube he'd had during the operation), and it makes him break into a coughing fit. Tommy jerks awake, immediately alert as he gets up from the chair by the wall and moves to Buck's side.

"Hey! You okay?"

Buck nods.

"You need a doctor?"

Buck shakes his head. "No," he manages to get out, and points at the pitcher and cup on the little side table. Tommy is there in an instant, pouring a glass of water and putting it in Buck's handing.

"Here."

Buck takes a drink, savoring the way the liquid soothes his throat, then hands the cup back to Tommy.

"Thanks," he gasps. "You'd think with how many times I've had a breathing tube, I'd know better than to try and yell the next day."

"Yeah, you'd think," Tommy says, smiling despite the worried pinch of his eyebrows. He goes back around to Buck's other side and pulls the chair he'd been sitting in to Buck's bedside, sitting with his arms resting on the bed railing. "How're you feeling?"

"A little bit sore, but not too bad. Definitely better than yesterday. Definitely better now that you're here."

The smile on Tommy's face flickers and fades, and he looks down. "I'm really sorry I didn't come last night. I was going to but by the time everyone else was done seeing you, visiting hours were over."

"Hey," Buck says, turning the hand closest to Tommy palm up. Tommy puts his hand in Buck's. Buck gives it a small squeeze. "You don't need to apologize. One of the nurses said you tried to sweet-talk your way in here, pulled the first responder card and everything! Besides, I should be the one apologizing."

Tommy frowns. "Why would you apologize?"

"Tommy, you found me in my apartment practically septic. You had to call an ambulance, and then you called and told Maddie...I know that's not easy. And all of that was after I promised you I would get help if things got really bad." He has a brief memory of the party at Bobby and Athena's that had ended in him collapsing after coughing up blood and he winces. "I'm not always very good at admitting when I'm not doing well."

"Hey." Tommy's expression has gone all soft, and he rubs his thumb along Buck's wrist. "The important thing is that you're okay. Anyway, it's not like it's gonna happen again." There's something playful in his eyes now and his lips twitch. "You only had the one appendix."

Buck snorts, immediately cringing. "Ow, please don't make me laugh."

"I'm sorry," Tommy says, not sounding overly contrite.

"Sure," Buck says. "You certainly made an impression on Maddie."

Tommy closes his eyes, hanging his head. "Oh, god. Eddie told me she didn't mind but I knew it was too good to be true."

It's Buck's turn to frown. "What are you talking about? She couldn't stop gushing about you. Eddie told her about you cleaning my whole apartment."

Maybe it's the pain meds, but Buck could almost swear that Tommy blushes. "It wasn't your whole apartment. I just wanted to make sure it was comfortable for when you get home. It wasn't a big deal."

"It was to her. And it is to me. You are...incredibly sweet."

Tommy definitely blushes now and Buck grins.

"C'mere," he murmurs, and Tommy leans forward for a kiss that Buck wishes could last forever. He does his best to make that happen, following Tommy's mouth with his own as Tommy pulls away, only he leans a little too far forward and it pulls on the incision. He swears lightly and lets his head fall back against his pillows.

"Careful, Buckley," Tommy warns. "You don't want to bust your stitches."

"It'd be worth it," Buck says. Something dawns on him, then, and he cocks his head to the side. "Why aren't you at work?"

"Used one of my sick days. Plus, and I don't know if you know this, but I earned this medal a few months ago?"

Buck bites back a smile. "Oh, did you?"

Tommy nods. "Mmhm. I'm in Cap's good books. As long as I don't sneak a chopper out again."

"I dunno, leveraging your hero status to take a day off doesn't seem very ethical."

"Hey, he's the one that brought it up when I called in. Besides..." He reaches up and brushes his fingers against Buck's jaw, tracing them across his jawline before taking his chin in hand, tilting Buck's face back a little. "Who said I was a hero?"

Buck blushes now, turning away from Tommy's touch, trying and failing miserably to wipe the stupid smile off of his own face. "Stop, you're gonna bring a nurse in and then we'll both be in trouble."

Tommy looks confused for a split second, and then he glances up at the monitor that has Buck's vitals on display. He smirks. And then he smiles, a gentle, genuine smile.

"I really am glad you're okay, Evan."

Buck smiles, too, holding Tommy's hand a little tighter.

"I'd say I'm more than okay."

xxx end