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It starts in a bar in WeHo. And they"re having a great night, is the thing. They"ve taken to doing this every few weeks, when shift patterns and Hen and Karen"s childcare arrangements allow, and Buck loves it. It makes him feel like part of something bigger than himself.
Tonight"s especially good, because Karen is glowing with the success of a grant application, and Hen is looking at her like she hung the moon and the stars, and Buck had the brief, insane, but undeniable thought that holy shit, that"s how Tommy looks at him.
They"ve somehow gotten on to the subject of celebrity deaths, and Tommy is laying out without shame or embarrassment just how much he cried the Christmas George Michael and Carrie Fisher both passed, when they"re interrupted by an unfamiliar (to Buck, at least) voice.
"Tom?"
And it"s not like it"s a surprise, Tommy knows a lot of people, but there"s something about the way this guy (around Tommy"s age, around Tommy"s height, around Tommy"s build, and hot, a little bit of salt in his thick black hair and his neat black beard) says his name - not to mention the way Tommy"s head turns towards him so fast he probably gives himself whiplash - that makes Buck pay attention.
"Syed? Holy shit!" And Tommy practically vaults over Buck to get out of the booth and get close to the man and then he - pauses. Offers the guy a hand to shake. Buck looks over at Hen and Karen because…weird, right?
It means he misses whoever did whatever that turns a possible handshake into a very definite hug. He does not miss the way Syed"s fists are tight in the back of Tommy"s shirt or that Tommy"s hugging Syed the way he hugs Buck - the way he hugs everyone, Buck tries to remind himself. Tommy"s a hugger. He goes all in - so that their faces are practically pressed together. Buck feels a muscle tick in his jaw, takes a drink of his beer. Be cool, he tells himself, doesn"t meet Hen"s raised eyebrow glance.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Tommy asks.
Syed, apparently, says "You remember Jeff? He"s getting married."
"No way!"
"Second time, actually."
"Shut up!"
"Uh-huh. Ever the optimist," Syed says, with an irritatingly handsome smile and a questioning glance at the table.
"Oh, sorry! Syed, this is my partner Evan and our friends Hen and Karen. Everyone, this is Syed."
"And how do you guys know each other?" Karen asks, and Buck could kiss her because if he"d asked, he would probably have found a way to sound like a total psycho about it, but she just sounds friendly and interested.
"We dated about a million years ago," Tommy says, and Buck hates how fond he sounds. He hates that he hates it too, because he trusts Tommy, down to his bones, he trusts the guy, and he"s allowed to have a past, but -
"Come on, T, why you gotta do me like that? We"re not that old. It was seven years ago."
T, Buck thinks. Tom. Okay. Sure.
"Feels longer," Tommy says, and Buck has no idea what that means.
"Do you guys work with Tom at Harbor?"
"Oh, no," Tommy says, practically tripping over himself to answer. "Evan and Hen actually work at my old house, and Hen"s wife Karen is an actual rocket scientist."
"No kidding! That"s so cool."
Karen shrugs, but she looks pleased. Buck feels like his teeth are being electrocuted.
"Are you still in New York?" Tommy asks.
"Yeah. I made partner a few years back."
"Of course you did," Tommy says, and he sounds - he sounds proud and pleased and - and that"s fine. It"s fine that he"s proud of his probably scumbag lawyer ex. Totally fine.
"I should get back," Syed says, gesturing over his shoulder.
"Of course."
"It was really good to see you, Tom. And to meet you all," he adds, with a glance around their table. His eyes linger on Buck for a second and he looks sincere and pleased in a way that makes Buck want to get in his face like a - like a stupid kid.
"God, you too," Tommy says, and then they"re hugging again, which is totally fine and necessary. Syed says something too quiet for Buck to catch and Tommy laughs, ducks his head, bashful in a way Buck doesn"t get to see him often.
Tommy settles back in the booth next to Buck just like before, puts an arm around him just like before, smiles at him just like before. When Buck smiles back it feels tight and brittle on his face.
"God, what a blast from the past," Tommy says, and Buck can"t think about anything other than how pleased he sounds, how happy he is to have run into the guy. "Where were we?"
Buck tries to follow the conversation, feels like an asshole because Karen"s saddest celebrity death is actually a really interesting one, and he does make a mental note to find a biography of Sally Ride. His smile feels weird on his face though, and Tommy"s arm across his back is making him feel itchy rather than settled.
"I"m gonna get another drink, anyone want?"
Everyone puts in orders and Tommy looks up at him. "You need an extra pair of hands?"
Buck knows exactly the joke he"d usually make, exactly the way Hen would frisbee a beer mat at his head, exactly the way Karen would boo, exactly the way Tommy would look at him.
"Nah, I"ve got it."
At the bar, he breathes carefully, tries to settle himself. He knows what"s happening here. He knows where the overreaction is coming from. Everything"s fine. But in a really shitty twist of fate, his position at the bar gives him a perfect sightline to where Syed is sitting with a group of people, talking animatedly, showing off his perfect jawline and gesturing in a way that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders. Buck can imagine him saying, yeah, I ran into my ex. The one that got away, you know? God, he looks really good, maybe I should -
Nope. He cuts off the train of thought, tosses back the extra shot he ordered for himself before he gathers up everyone"s drinks and heads back to the table.
The extra drink was a bad idea. It doesn"t make him feel any more relaxed, just weirder and more uncomfortable, and what started out as a really great night is suddenly as sour as the vodka curdling in his stomach. Hen and Karen can tell something"s up, he"s sure of it, and he can feel Tommy"s eyes on him, questioning to begin with, but the glances start feeling annoyed before too long because Buck just…cannot snap out of it. He can"t stop seeing that hug, can"t stop hearing the excitement in Tommy"s voice as he said Syed"s name, can"t stop thinking Tom, T, can"t stop wondering what happened and when and why and how long ago.
Buck can feel himself zoning out of the conversation and he tries to drag himself back into it, but he feels like his skin is too small for his body - it"s stupid, it"s so stupid, because it"s not like he thinks Tommy sprang fully formed from his helicopter that crazy night, not like he doesn"t know the guy has a past, but he can"t stop wondering, can"t stop his thoughts from spiraling. Did he call Syed baby the way he does Buck? Did Tommy meet his family, did he meet Tommy"s friends (did they like him better than Buck?), did they live together, plan a future together, want forever together?
They call it a night a little earlier than they usually would, and that feels awful too. No one"s even said anything but Buck feels small and stupid and like he"s ruining everything. The Uber back to Tommy"s is quiet, and Buck is so unused to them not having anything to say to each other that it feels like the worst thing that"s ever happened. He can feel this sense of panic welling up inside him, clawing at his throat and it goes from not knowing what to say to not wanting to say anything, because if he speaks it"s going to be something shitty and desperate and Tommy will realize that he"s pathetic and stupid and petty and jealous.
He knows this feeling, is the thing. He recognizes this tension from other relationships, recognizes it from nights with Taylor where he came face to face with the reality that he was never going to matter the way he wanted to. And he knows it"s unfair to put that on Tommy, but god, it feels exactly the same, feels like they"re barrelling towards an inevitable fight. He wants to hide from it so desperately but he can"t think straight, is only halfway through working out how to ask the Uber driver to take him home when Tommy gets out of the car and he follows on instinct.
Normally he loves Tommy"s house, but he drags his feet following him inside this time because it feels like the house where the fight is going to happen and the fight is going to ruin everything. Buck is going to ruin everything. The sound of Tommy dropping his keys into the bowl near the door is somehow loud enough to make Buck flinch, and he just - he"s not saying anything.
Tommy looks at him for a second, sighs in a way that makes Buck feel a flare of irritation, and looks away again. He starts going through his nighttime routine, setting the alarm, turning on the lamps, and Buck"s just…standing there, barely taken a step away from the door, like he"s a stranger. He feels like a stranger.
"Ask," Tommy says, and his voice lands like a slap in the silence of the room.
"Huh?"
"Come on. Clearly you"re full of thoughts."
"Nope," Buck says, not really knowing why. "No thoughts."
"Evan. You"ve been in a mood all night," Tommy says, crossing the room - putting more space between them - to close the curtains.
It feels patronizing in a way Tommy never is with him and Buck can feel his hackles rising. "I"m not in a mood."
He can hear the snap in his own voice and he wonders if Tommy knows he can see his reflection in the window, can see his eyebrows going up, can see him mouthing oookay in a way that makes Buck feel a little bit crazed.
"But if I was - "
"If you were, sure."
"If I was, could you blame me? I wasn"t exactly expecting to get blindsided by your ex tonight."
"And I was? Evan, you"re acting like I invited him."
Buck doesn"t know what to say to that, because it"s true, but that doesn"t make it any less fucking annoying.
"I don"t think we should talk about this tonight," Tommy says after a beat, turning back to face Buck, his hands in his pockets.
"Why not?" Buck demands, which is stupid, because he doesn"t want to talk about this, doesn"t want to think about it, doesn"t want it to be happening. But it"s like a scab he can"t help picking.
"Because we"re both tired and a little drunk and we"re going to say things we regret."
"And you just get to decide that, huh?"
"I"m trying to - "
"You"re trying to avoid a conversation, how novel," Buck says. He hates the snarky tone in his own voice and it"s not fair. It"s not even true because Tommy might play his cards close to his chest about some things, but he doesn"t shy away from difficult conversations. It"s out there now though, Buck"s said it now.
"Fine," Tommy says around a huff. "Sure. You seem like you"re really in a position to hear that I wanted to marry him and he broke my heart, but that he"s the first person I loved out loud and that"s always going to mean a lot to me."
And they"re not barbs, some part of Buck knows that, but god, they feel like it. Digging under his skin with loved out loud and I wanted to marry him and he broke my heart and always going to mean a lot to me. That guy, that handsome guy, broke Tommy"s heart which means Tommy didn"t want it to end which means - which means - which means nothing he tells himself desperately.
He"s not saying anything, Buck realizes. Neither of them is saying anything, and the silence is awful, weighted and oppressive and leaving room for the thoughts rattling around in his head to crank up in volume and pace. Is this it? It feels like this might be it. It"s been so good, so consistently and easily good with Tommy, and Buck feels like the floor has fallen away from his feet, like he"s a cartoon character who"s about to realize there"s nothing but air underneath him. He takes a ragged breath, and it"s loud in the silence of the room.
Tommy presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Fuck. Fuck. I shouldn"t have said it like - "
"No, it"s - " Buck feels a little cold, a lot stupid. He pulls the sleeves of Tommy"s hoodie down over his hands. "I, um. I pushed. You - should I leave?"
"No. I"m - unless you want to. You can if you want to."
Something in Buck is screaming at him to leave, to just this once be the one who leaves, but Tommy looks impossibly small for a guy his size and he can"t bring himself to do it. "I don"t want to."
"No?"
Buck shakes his head, chews on the inside of his lip. His stomach hurts. "Do - do you want me to stay?"
"Evan. I always want you to stay."
It"s quiet, and it"s the kind of thing Tommy says so casually, so affectionately, that Buck can"t understand why it makes him feel awful, like he"s being hollowed out. Why it sounds like I always want you to stay even though you"re like this. That"s not what Tommy said, he has to remind himself. It"s not. It"s not.
"Do you want some tea?" Tommy asks, and it"s incongruous enough that it stops Buck"s racing thoughts in their tracks for a second. He nods. "Okay. I"ll be right back."
And there go the thoughts again, because Tommy wants space, wants to get away from him, doesn"t want to be around him. Stop it, he begs himself. Just stop it.
He tries to sit on the couch, but the nervous energy thrumming through him drives him back to his feet almost straight away. Tommy"s house isn"t exactly large, and the living room doesn"t make for good pacing, but he tries anyway, wandering the room from bookshelf to couch to TV and back again, trying to convince himself this isn"t going to be the last time he sees any of this.
He didn"t leave, he reminds himself. Tommy didn"t want him to leave. He realizes he"s wringing his hands together, lets them drop to his sides, tries to focus on breathing. Tries to remember conversations he"s had with Dr Copeland about this, about feeling rejected not being the same as being rejected, but none of it feels true, no matter how hard he thinks it.
He can hear Tommy moving around in the kitchen and he wants to run in there and beg for reassurance that they"re okay almost as much as he wants Tommy to stay out of sight, to spend so long making tea that everything will settle on its own. He knows it won"t, though. He thinks about Bobby saying they"re good for each other, about Eddie teasing him over how gone he is for Tommy, about Hen telling him welcome to the club and giving him a huge hug, and the urge to trail Tommy into the kitchen grows stronger. He just…he just wants to cling, and that"s what he always does, holds on tighter and tighter until his hands are bloody and his nails are ragged and he"s managed to turn clinging into shoving away and the other person doesn"t want him anymore. What the hell is he going to do if Tommy doesn"t want him anymore?
I always want you to stay.
He takes a breath. Another. And then he can hear Tommy coming down the hallway. He gulps in another breath.
"I"m sorry," Buck says as soon as Tommy appears in the doorway, a steaming mug of tea in each hand.
"Me too."
Tommy looks at him carefully, and Buck can see the moment he registers just how freaked out Buck is. He feels stupid and childish and surely Tommy"s going to -
Tommy sets the mugs he"s carrying down on the coffee table.
"Hey. C"mere."
Buck lets himself walk into Tommy"s waiting arms, lets himself be held. It feels okay to be touched for the first time since Syed said Tom in that familiar, friendly way that might as well have been designed in a lab to slam down on every insecurity button Buck"s ever had.
"We should talk," Tommy says, and with his hand running up and down Buck"s back, there"s no way he doesn"t feel the tension that scores through him. "Hey." He pulls back enough to look Buck in the eye. "Just talk, okay? With the understanding that we"re not - we"re not mad at each other. Right?"
Buck nods. "I"m not. I"m a little mad at myself, but. I"m not mad that you had a life before me."
"And I"m not mad that seeing that life pop up in a bar on a random Thursday night made you feel some kind of way," Tommy promises.
Tommy"s not mad at him. It"s not everything, but it"s a start and the knot in Buck"s chest starts to loosen.
"Okay."
"Okay." Tommy kisses his cheek and Buck feels his stomach swoop in that familiar way, not unpleasant this time. "So. Let"s talk."
Buck nods and they settle onto the couch. He grabs his mug of tea to have something to occupy his hands, and Tommy does the same.
"I guess we never really talked about exes."
"Not in detail, no," Buck says, because he"s definitely dropped Taylor and Abby"s names into conversation before, and Tommy"s definitely said "my ex" a few times.
"Okay. I guess there are two that matter, for me. Syed, and before him, Zack."
"You - " Buck clears his throat. There"s still a part of him that"s recoiling at the idea of hearing any of this, but it"s not going to magically become easy. They have to push through. What they have is worth pushing through for. "You said you loved Syed out loud. Was Zack when you were still…"
"So, so closeted. Hen and Chim met him once, actually."
"Yeah?"
"They wouldn"t remember." Tommy rubs a hand over his eyes, looking painfully uncomfortable. "You think "hot chicks" was bad, I literally said hey bro and did the - " He makes a muted, somehow sad version of his usual dorky finger guns, and Buck has to swallow a laugh. "Keep in mind I had his dick in my mouth twelve hours earlier."
"Tommy, oh my god."
"You can laugh, it"s fine."
"I"m not laughing," Buck promises, but he can feel the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile, and he can see laughter in the way Tommy"s eyes are sparkling.
"I did better with Syed. I wasn"t out long when we met, but I was out. It was just after I started at Harbor, and I thought it felt like - fate, you know? Like I was finally being honest about who I was, and he was…the reward, or something."
Buck nods.
"It was just - I couldn"t believe how easy it felt, you know? Shift work was a pain in the ass, but it wasn"t like he wasn"t busy too, and we made it work. We got to know each other"s friends pretty quick and you know - you know I"m a sucker for feeling like I"m part of something."
Buck"s heart aches. He nods again, takes a sip of his tea. "How"d you meet?"
"Just in a bar. It"d been a rough week and - honestly I was just looking for a hookup but we ended up spending the whole night talking about work, and…" Tommy shrugs.
"Hot pilot strikes again," Buck jokes, feels something loosen inside him that he can joke about it and mean it.
"Oh. I mean, that didn"t hurt, but mostly we talked about his job. He"s a human rights lawyer."
"That"s hot," Buck says reluctantly, mentally letting go of the weird, vague hope that Syed might have been a scumbag corporate lawyer whose life goal was to fuck over the little guy wherever he could.
Tommy nudges him gently. "I do love a do-gooder."
Buck feels the corner of his mouth tug up into a smile. "So what happened?"
Tommy shrugs. "I fell pretty hard. I think he did too, but we didn"t really talk about it. We were together for a couple of years and I - I"d never been with anyone that long. Zack was a bit over a year, but it felt different being out about it, you know?"
"Yeah." Buck can feel himself unwinding a little, because Tommy sounds…fond, but distantly fond. The racing thoughts have settled enough that he can register that this is how someone talks about their past.
"And you - you proposed?" Buck asks.
"No, thank Christ. Never got the chance. I did buy the ring, though."
"Yeah?"
"Mm-hm. I drove myself crazy over it for months, you know, saving and shopping, and - but we never talked about it," he says again.
And the thing is, he and Tommy talk a lot. They talk about what they"re doing and how they"re feeling and where it"s going. Buck"s never had a relationship like it before, and he feels like maybe this is why. Everyone brings things from past relationships into new ones, and maybe what Tommy"s brought with him is the need to speak plainly, to be honest, to hear and to be heard.
"Looking back, it was so stupid. We didn"t even live together yet, and I went out and bought a ring."
"So, what, uh. What happened?"
"He got a job offer in New York. He said I could go with him if I wanted, but there was no way he could turn it down at that point in his career."
Buck has to smile, because he knows how Tommy feels about the east coast.
"Exactly," Tommy says, clocking the look on his face, and Buck knocks their knees together.
"I"m glad you didn"t. Would have taken me way longer to find you if you were living in New York with your fancy lawyer husband."
Tommy laughs, shakes his head. "Evan."
"What"d you do with the ring?"
"Uh. I may have…gotten pathetically drunk and thrown it in the ocean before i spent the night crying on the beach."
"Oh babe. That can"t be good for the fish."
"I wasn"t thinking about the fish, Evan. I was thinking I"d finally found my happily ever after and ruined it, because of course I had."
"Babe…"
"I was wrong. On both counts. I didn"t ruin it, we were just…at different points in our lives. And he wasn"t my happily ever after."
"Oh." Buck can feel himself flushing, takes another drink of his tea in a futile attempt to cover it.
Tommy drains his own mug and leans forward to place it on the coffee table. "You know what he said to me at the bar?"
Buck shakes his head, remembers that bashful look on Tommy"s face, the glance Syed shot towards him.
"He said, "he"s beautiful. You look so happy, Tom". He was right on both counts."
"Yeah?"
"Mm-hm. I know I thought he was forever, back then, but I"m really glad he wasn"t. Because Evan, I"ve never - I"ve never felt like this before."
Buck swallows against the sudden lump in his throat. "Me too. Thank you for telling me. I"m sorry I…acted like a jealous little freak."
"Evan."
Buck shakes his head, sets his mug next to Tommy"s on the table and leans towards him. "Can I?"
Tommy lifts an arm and Buck tucks himself in close. This is his favorite way to sit with Tommy, a strong arm around his shoulders, the solid thump of Tommy"s heartbeat under his ear, the lines between them blurring.
"Thank you. For - for talking."
Tommy drops a kiss into his hair. "Always."
They just breathe together for a few long moments and Buck chews his lip, taps his thumb on Tommy"s thigh. He can feel the last of the tension still in his fingertips but it has a different flavor now and he feels so much better. It would have been so easy to leave, or to blow up, and the fact that neither of them did either of those things makes Buck feel a little bit like he"s missed a step in the dark.
"You okay?" Tommy asks.
"Uh-huh."
"Sure? Look, it"s fine if there"s not, but given everything I"ve just said about a relationship blowing up because we didn"t talk when we should have, it feels like maybe there"s…something more you wanna say?"
"I have ADHD," Buck blurts, only realizing that"s what he was going to say after he"s already said it.
"Yeah?"
"I know that"s like…the least surprising thing ever."
Where they"re curled together, Buck can feel Tommy shrug.
"I didn"t get a diagnosis as a kid. Didn"t even get tested, but a lot of things clicked into place once I figured it out."
"Okay," Tommy says, and he sounds…interested and accepting, but a little confused why this is coming up now, which is pretty fair, so Buck pushes on.
"Meds help, and I"ve figured out things that make day to day a lot easier to navigate. But it"s not - I think people mostly know about the inattention and the hyperactivity and the - the hyperfocus and stuff, but um." God, Buck"s never actually tried to explain this to someone before, and he doesn"t think he"s doing a great job of it. He takes a breath. "Have you ever heard of RSD?"
"I don"t think so," Tommy says. "What does it mean?"
"So, it stands for rejection sensitive dysphoria. It"s not specifically an ADHD thing, but it is common in people with ADHD."
"What does it mean for you?"
The wording, and the tone, both completely free of judgment, make Buck"s head spin a little.
"Kind of just how it sounds, really. When I get rejected, o-or when I feel rejected, I know you didn"t actually - it"s just - really overwhelming. I lash out, I get in my head. It feels - it feels like the world"s ending."
Tommy"s quiet for a moment, his arm tightening around Buck. "What can I do?"
This isn"t the time to say it but god, god, Buck is so in love with this man.
"Nothing. I mean - just this. Talking like this is good. I promise I"m not gonna start like - begging for reassurance every five seconds. I swear to god, I"m not actually that needy, I just - "
Tommy shifts, enough to look Buck in the eye. "Can I stop you there? Just for a second."
Buck nods, and Tommy takes his hand, his fingers warm.
"If you need reassurance, you can have it." Buck"s not sure what his face does, but it"s clearly something, because Tommy presses on. "Look. Am I gonna find it a little frustrating if you don"t believe me when I say it? Sure, maybe. But if you start to get in your head and you need to hear that I - that I"m all in, that I"m here, that I"m crazy about you, that I want you and I like you and you"re my - my favorite person? You can have that. You can ask for that."
"Okay," Buck says, overwhelmed. He tucks himself back into Tommy again, unable to look at him right now or he"ll say something that shouldn"t be said for the first time in the aftermath of a not-quite-argument. "But you"ll - will you tell me if it gets too much?"
"I will. Will you believe me if I say it isn"t?"
"I"ll try," Buck promises.
"Okay. Thank you for telling me."
"Thank you for listening."
Tommy lets out a slightly shaky breath and kisses Buck"s temple. "I always wanna hear you, Evan."
With a wave of affection, Buck presses himself closer, fighting a yawn.
"I"m so tired," he admits.
"Me too. Bed?"
"Please."
Tomorrow, Buck will make breakfast, and then go for a run while Tommy works on his friend"s car. Buck will hang around in the garage when he gets back, and it won"t take much persuasion for Tommy to join him in the shower. Maybe they"ll drive out to Venice for dinner or maybe they"ll cook together or maybe they"ll eat takeout on the couch because they can"t bring themselves to separate long enough to grill some steaks.
Either way, they will know each other a little better. And soon, very soon, Buck will tell Tommy that he loves him. He"s more certain than he"s ever been that he"ll get to hear the words in return.