Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Jeep's engine turns over again, sputtering, and Buck groans. He drops his head forward onto the steering wheel with a sigh. Cynthia laughs from the passenger seat, and he tilts his face in her direction, pouting.

Buck hadn't planned on picking anyone up when he went out with some of the other LAFD recruits after training, but Cynthia caught his eye from across the bar. Curly brown hair, bright green eyes, plush red lips, Buck had to go over and shoot his shot. It had worked well enough that they were on their way to her place, until the Jeep crapped out on him for the second time this week. The car’s time in storage while Buck was in Peru probably wasn't great for the engine.

“I’m sorry, I swear this never happens,” Buck lies, smiling. Cynthia raises an eyebrow, and Buck crumbles immediately, spilling his guts in frustration. “Okay, it's been happening a lot. I gotta pay rent for a shithole house I share with 5 people in this stupidly expensive city, and my parents are expecting me to pay them back for school even though I dropped out, and I'm still paying off my credit card debt from travelling, and now my fucking Jeep is dying, and everything costs so much. Holy shit, how do people live in LA?”

Cynthia's kind enough to humour him. “Sounds like you're having a real rough go of it,” she says with a hum. “Does the LAFD not pay its recruits enough?”

“Not enough for all my… everything,” Buck says, circling a hand in the air like the gesture could encompass all his problems.

“You know…” Cynthia tilts her head to the side as she looks him over appraisingly. “My friend just got a sugar daddy. He pays her rent and everything, she just meets up with him once or twice a week for dinner.”

Buck snorts. A sugar daddy? “Okay, sure, a guy would want a hot girl as his sugar baby. Me, though?”

“Legs like yours? Mouth like that?” Cynthia reaches out, cupping his chin and pressing down on his bottom lip with her thumb. Instinctually, he sucks her thumb into his mouth, tracing her nail with his tongue. She laughs as she pulls away, patting his cheek. “Yeah, do something like that to a man, and you'll have a sugar daddy in no time.”

It's nice that Cynthia's trying to help him out, but Buck's pretty interested in something else right now. “Wanna see what else my mouth can do?” he asks with a smirk.

Cynthia laughs again, shaking her head. “As tempting as it sounds, you aren't eating me out in the parking lot of a bar.”

Turning to glare at the ignition, Buck turns the keys one last time. The engine turns over and catches this time, and Buck turns to Cynthia with a smug grin. “Who said anything about eating you out in a parking lot?” he purrs, and shifts the Jeep into reverse.

Buck’s barely through the front door the morning after his hookup when Connor shouts out from the kitchen, “Dude, yesterday was the first of the month.” Buck groans.

“Fuck, sorry, I’ll Venmo you.” Buck pulls out his phone and sighs. He’s cutting it close this month. He really needs the Jeep to hold on for a few more weeks.

Flopping down on his lumpy bed, Buck thinks about what Cynthia said the night before. Would getting a sugar daddy actually solve his problems? Buck pulls his laptop out from the mess of sheets on his bed and opens Google.

Sugar babies can make a lot of money, Buck learns in his research. Hundreds of dollars a meeting or thousands a month as an allowance, depending on the arrangement. And it doesn't have to be about sex. Sometimes it's just platonic, for companionship. Also, there are sugar mommies too, so it wouldn't have to be a gay thing.

Not that there's anything wrong with it potentially being a gay thing. Buck’s an ally.

Buck's so much of an ally that when he downloads the app that’s mentioned in almost every thread and article about sugar dating that he reads, he checks that he's interested in men and women. If porn stars can do the whole gay-for-pay thing, he can too. Anyway, casting a wider net is just the smart thing to do. Maybe some nice old guy is looking for a friend, and he won't even really have to do anything gay. It's not like this’ll be forever, just until he can pay off his debts and fix the Jeep and everything.

The account he makes is similar to the ones he has on other dating apps. He only uses his best thirst traps: sitting on a surfboard in the ocean, wetsuit undone, sleeves tied around his waist, backlit by the sun; LAFD recruit shirt soaked, plastered to his skin, with a cocky smile on his face, an artful streak of ash over his nose; a bathroom selfie from one of the rare times the mirror is clean, his dick resting on the countertop, barely covered by the towel slung low on his hips. He does class it up a bit, though, and keeps the word ‘firehose’ out of his profile.

Buck chats with a few people over the next few days. Paul is fine but incredibly sexually forward. Buck is completely understanding, but he isn't sure if he'd be willing to do some of the incredibly specific acts Paul wants, even for his generous monthly allowance. Brenda is a nice older lady, just looking for company and someone to have on her arm at events, but she needs him to be available on weekends, which he can't guarantee with his training schedule. James seems fun and is a good-looking guy, but he wants Buck to travel with him, which again, wouldn't work with his schedule.

And then there's Tommy. Despite being 46, he looks good. Fit, and he fills out a suit really well. Salt and pepper hair, smile lines framing blue eyes, he looks nice.

Buck decides to message him and ask what his workout routine is like. He can't get over how jacked Tommy is. The photo of Tommy in just the Muay Thai shorts and hand wraps is… impressive.

Buck hesitates before responding, feeling himself blush. Flirting with dudes is still new, even through a screen.

Tommy is direct about what he wants: someone to go out with locally once or twice a week. He's got a weird schedule, so travel is hard, which Buck understands is a problem for a lot of sugar babies. Then he throws a wrench in the whole thing.

Buck hesitates. He could always lie and still see other people; it's not like this is a real relationship, so it wouldn't really be cheating. On the other hand, Tommy would be saving his life with this arrangement, cheating to any degree feels skeevy, and there’s always the chance of getting caught. Whatever, Buck can just jerk off for a month or two if it’s for a few thousand dollars.

Buck hums and taps his phone against his hand.

Buck figures kissing a guy couldn't be too different from kissing a woman. By the time Tommy’s expecting more, Buck will break up with him. He’ll be fine.

Buck feels his face get hot. Why did his dick get a little hard with that question? He takes a deep breath. He does have a soft spot for MILF porn; it has to be some sort of mental transference.

Flexing his fingers, Buck debates what Tommy would want to hear. He settles on something close to the truth.

Buck puts his phone down and sighs. He feels a little bad, like he’s gonna string Tommy along. But Tommy knows this is all transactional; none of this is really real. His phone vibrates on his chest.

Buck exhales slowly. He can do this.

Buck can’t do this.

“Dude, you’ve gotta help me. I’m begging. Left or right?”

“Buck, man, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not good at this fashion shit. They’re both ties. Do you even know how to tie one?”

Buck sighs and drops his hands. Connor hasn’t looked up from his phone, even when Buck burst into his room begging for help. And he’s right, Buck has no idea how to tie a tie. “Fuck!”

“I don’t know why you care so much. It’s just some guy,” Connor shrugs as he types something out.

“The average sugar baby makes somewhere between two and five thousand dollars a month as allowance. This is not ‘just some guy’.”

Connor finally looks up from his phone. “Shit, really? What’s the app called again?”

Huffing a sigh, Buck asks, “Dude, honestly, how do I look?” With his limited choices, he’s settled on wearing his navy blue suit, white shirt tucked in, no tie.

Connor tilts his head to the side before walking up to Buck and unbuttoning another shirt button. “I think that's the best you can do.”

“Thanks,” Buck mutters, rolling his eyes.

Buck does breathing exercises on his drive to the restaurant. He’s got a bad track record with first dates, and this feels like the worst parts of a first date and a job interview combined. The drive passes too quickly, and with one last whispered “you got this” to himself, Buck walks into the restaurant.

The hostess — probably actually a maitre d’ in a place this nice — leads Buck to a small table where Tommy is already sitting. Buck’s relieved to see Tommy’s not wearing a tie, either. He does somehow look bigger in person, though, which isn’t fair. He stands as Buck gets to the table, and Buck’s glad to see they’re at least the same height, even if Tommy is broader.

Tommy nods at the maitre d’ to dismiss her, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles at Buck. “Evan, it’s nice to meet you,” he says, and Buck can feel his cheeks get hot. He’s gotten used to people calling him Buck over the last few months; that must be why hearing his name come from Tommy sounds weird. Still, he doesn't want to correct Tommy. He sort of likes the weird feeling.

“You, uh, you, too,” Buck stutters out, and Tommy’s smile deepens as he pulls a chair out for him. Buck whispers a quiet “thanks” as he sits. He gets why girls like the whole pulling-the-chair-out-for-your-date thing now. It does make you feel special.

“This place is really nice,” Buck says, looking around at the dark wood panelling and rich leather seats. Tommy looks like he fits right in, leaning back comfortably in his seat, a soft smile on his face. Meanwhile, Buck feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his chair. He takes a sip from his glass of water in an attempt to calm down.

“Mhm, their lamb was unbelievable last time I was here,” Tommy says. Buck tries to think if he’s ever eaten lamb before. Probably not. Lamb isn’t particularly adventurous, but his family never really branched out from chicken and beef.

Buck looks down at the menu in front of him for the first time. He swallows when he realizes there’s no price listed on the menu. “What's a tasting menu?” he asks, and immediately regrets showing how ignorant he is.

Tommy’s kind enough not to laugh at him, at least. “The chef decides the entire menu, you just eat what comes to your table,” he says kindly. ”Do you drink?”

“Yeah?” Buck just turned twenty-one last week, so doing it legally in the States is new, but drinking in general isn’t after his time bartending in Peru.

“You can pick your drinks if you want, but I’d stick with the recommended pairings.” Tommy shrugs. “They’re the professionals, so they usually make the right decisions there.” The corners of Tommy’s mouth quirk up, and Buck is struck by how his smile lines and grey hairs make him look… dignified.

“What are you staring at, kid?” Tommy asks with a raised eyebrow.

Buck didn’t even realize he was staring. His face feels hot. The ‘kid’ also makes Buck’s stomach flip for some reason, but he shrugs it off. “I’m just hoping I look half as fit as you do when I'm your age.” Instantly, Buck is mortified. He shuts his mouth with a click. That’s not at all what he meant to say.

Tommy’s eyebrows are raised. “A while yet to worry about that.” Buck tugs on his collar as their server comes up to the table. Buck doesn’t hear a single thing he says; the thought that Tommy is more than twice his age is the only thought in his mind as he watches Tommy talk to the waiter. Buck’s stomach flips again.

“Evan?” Tommy has the corners of his mouth quirked up. “You good?”

Buck blinks. “Y-yeah?”

“And what did you want to drink?” the waiter asks with a patient smile. It probably wasn’t the first time he asked, Buck realizes.

“The, uh, recommended pairings would be great.” The waiter nods before walking away.

“You’re a little tense,” Tommy states, an obvious fact.

“Okay, listen, this is — this is my first date with a dude. But I'm not weirded out. I mean, I've always been an ally.” Buck pumps his fist in the air a little. Immediately, he wants to crawl under the table. What was that?

“And now you’re… more than an ally?” Tommy’s pursing his lips like he’s holding back laughter. Buck nods, his face hot, feeling guilty about the lie. “That's good. Then I guess it's just me that makes you nervous.”

Buck’s lips part for an inhale. He’s saved from having to respond by the waiter showing up with their drinks and plates. The thing on his plate is tiny and unrecognizable. He watches Tommy pick the thing on his own plate up and pop it in his mouth, and he follows suit, deciding it would be best to copy what Tommy does throughout the meal.

Whatever it is tastes great, and Buck can’t help the pleased little noise that escapes him. He takes a sip of his wine, also fantastic, and clears his throat. “It uh, feels weird not getting ID’ed,” Buck muses.

Tommy cocks his head a fraction, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, getting carded tends to ruin the dining experience, so they don’t really… do that.”

Right, sure. ‘The dining experience’. Rich people things. Buck asks, “Hey, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a firefighter-pilot.”

“Holy shit, no way!” Buck leans forward, and he can feel his smile stretch over his face. “You didn’t say anything when we were messaging. I did tell you I’m a cadet, right?”

“You did. How’s the academy treating you?” Tommy looks actually interested in the answer, and the weight of his focus feels… heavy.

“Good! Great, actually. It feels like this might be a good career for me. I’ve always been active, and I want to actually do something. Help people.”

Tommy’s smile is so bright, deepening his smile lines. Buck takes another sip of his drink, throat suddenly dry. “Same for me. It’s nice to actually impact people’s lives positively.”

“Is it — uh. Does that make you enough to afford dinners like this often?” Buck cringes. That was probably an inappropriate question.

Tommy tilts his head to the side and squints his eyes. “You worried about if I can take care of you on a public servant's salary?”

Shit. “I — no, it’s —”

“I'm kidding, Evan,” he shrugs casually, taking a sip of his wine. “I inherited some income streams. Flying for the LAFD is just what keeps me busy.” ‘Inherited some income streams’ is just a really unpretentious way for Tommy to say he’s loaded, Buck realizes. Generational-wealth-style loaded, maybe?

“M-my family is pretty solidly middle class, and I grew up in Pennsylvania, so this —” Buck motions around the restaurant “— is all pretty new to me. LA in general is. B-but I did do some travelling before moving here! I worked in Peru for over a year. And I did a year of college before that. But I uh, used my tuition money on a motorcycle, so that didn’t last long.” Buck finally and firmly shuts his mouth. Tommy didn’t ask about any of that. Buck might be the worst date in the history of the world, just going off about himself.

“Motorcycle, huh?” Buck nods, afraid to speak again, and Tommy continues, “I did something similar. Joined the army out of high school instead of going to college, and then I became a firefighter. Pretty sure most kids act out for attention to some degree. Could've been worse than buying a motorcycle and moving to Peru.”

It was worse than a motorcycle and moving to Peru; there were also plenty of scrapes, bruises, and broken bones, but Buck doesn't say that. He just smiles instead.

Buck fiddles with his water glass, and Tommy takes a slow sip from his. “I gotta ask, why aren't you, uh, doing normal dating?” Buck asks to break the sudden silence.

Tommy looks down at his plate and picks up his fork. “I like taking care of people. Some guys can get weird about it, and this is an easy way to start on the same page for that, at least.”

Buck hums, swirls his finger over the rim of his glass. “I haven't had someone to take care of me in a while.” His heart pangs thinking of Maddie. It's been over two years since he last saw his sister, that night she gave him the Jeep and told him to get out of Hershey. That night she said she would leave with him.

Buck clears his throat, looks up at Tommy from under his lashes with what he hopes is a convincing smile. “I think I'd like having you take care of me.” Buck's smile becomes genuine when he sees Tommy’s throat bob. Maybe flirting with a guy isn’t too hard. “What would taking care of me actually look like, by the way? It’s not uh, just guys that are new for me. The whole sugar thing is.”

Tommy’s voice is dry when he says, “I never would have guessed,” but he tempers it with a grin. Buck can’t help but smile back. “It depends on what you need. Rent? Car insurance? New clothes? I’m happy to pay for it.” Tommy shrugs. “How much would you expect every time we meet?”

Shifting in his seat, Buck swallows. If they’re usually meeting twice a week, and Buck was hoping for something like two thousand a month, “Uh, like, t-two hundred or something?” Just… asking for money like this feels weird.

Tommy scoffs, and Buck’s stomach sinks. Of course, he was asking for too much, he always does. Then Tommy says, “Sweetheart, you’re worth more than that.”

What?

“What?” Buck blinks.

Head tilted, Tommy purses his lips and looks Buck over. “Evan, you’re sweet, handsome, and a lot of fun to talk to. You’re worth more than that,” Tommy says emphatically. “Two hundred dollars each time we meet wouldn't even cover your rent for a month. If you decide an arrangement with me isn’t what you want, I hope you keep that in mind the next time you meet —”

“I want you,” Buck interrupts. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and Tommy’s lips are left parted around his next word. “I mean, I want an arrangement with you. I like you, Tommy.” Not in the way Tommy’s probably hoping for, but Buck does like the guy. Tommy's nice, and even without the money, Buck would want to get to know him more.

They’re both quiet. The server comes by, and Tommy thanks them as he settles the bill. Buck was so focused on not embarrassing himself in front of Tommy that he wasn't aware that they had finished dinner, had honestly not even noticed all the times someone came by with their next course.

Watching Tommy sign away who knows how much money without a blink, Buck realizes it's the first time he didn't get handed the bill automatically on a date. Huh. The warm feeling in his stomach makes him think maybe he does like being 'taken care of', as Tommy phrased it. Nice, this whole thing should be easy, then.

As their server walks away, Tommy puts a small envelope on the table. “This is just a thanks for meeting with me. I was thinking seven fifty a meeting moving forward.”

Was the click from Buck swallowing loud enough for Tommy to hear? It had to have been. Buck nods, worried about what might come out if he opens his mouth. Probably something along the lines of “six thousand dollars a month!?” He takes the envelope and slips it into his pocket.

Stepping into the cool night air, Buck shivers. He feels lightheaded the whole walk back to the Jeep. At the door, he turns to Tommy to thank him and —

Tommy kisses him. It’s a soft press of lips, Tommy’s fingers under Buck’s chin to tilt his head in the right direction. Tommy’s leaning back before Buck can process what happened.

“Was that okay?” Tommy asks, just a whisper, close enough to Buck that he could lean in himself and —

“Yes, yeah,” Buck rasps.

Tommy takes a step back and shoots him some finger guns. “I’ll message you, okay?” He reaches out to open the Jeep's door for Buck.

Nodding weakly, Buck climbs into his car. Before Tommy shuts the door for him, he has the awareness to say, “Thank you for dinner. It was amazing.”

Tommy’s smile is blinding. “Of course. Any time, Evan.” He closes the door and waves as Evan pulls out of his parking spot.

Buck does not remember driving back to his house. He parks and listens to the engine tick as it cools. Dropping his head on the steering wheel, Buck presses his fingers to his lips. How are they still tingling even after the long drive home? Kissing another guy sure feels weird.

Does thinking that make him homophobic?