Work Text:
It’s safe to say that Buck doesn’t even fucking move for God knows how long.
There’s a part of him that wants to chase after Tommy, though he knows he’s long gone by now. He needs to ask, soft, and hopefully not at all as pathetically as it feels right now: do it again, please, please . He needs to know if all of that was real because holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
Something buzzes underneath Buck’s skin. His lips are still tingling. The kiss was…
Well, it was different. It was. God, it was everything, wasn’t it? And he remembers.
“Saturday.”
He thinks it’s the first thing that’s come out of his mouth since Tommy left his loft, like he wanted to preserve the feeling of Tommy’s lips forever. And, well, doesn’t he? Still, the spoken memory almost feels like a prayer of some sort. A manifestation, maybe.
“Saturday .”
He needs to tell someone—hell, he needs to tell everyone. He needs—
Oh.
Fuck, he needs to call Eddie.
“I figured just calling would be a pretty dick move, but I’ve already been a really huge dick and I hope I’m not embarrassing you, I just really want to apologize and say—” he blurts as Eddie’s front door starts to open. And really, he should have thought this through more because he just laid Eddie up with a foot injury, of course he’s not going to answer the goddamn door. Shit, he just made things worse by swearing at his pretty pissed-off-looking son. “Hey, Chris.”
“Hey, Buck,” the kid says, not really sounding too mad, but Buck knows this kid.
He clears his throat. “Um, hey, so… can I come in?”
Chris rolls his eyes. “I guess.”
Right. Because he’s an actual teenager now. Who gets very upset and is very impressionable and is also —
So Chris steps aside and Buck carefully enters the house, making himself as silent as possible, although he knows there’s really no point. He slips off his shoes and finds Eddie lying on the couch with his leg elevated.
“I would rather finish this as soon as possible, Buck, I’m tired.”
“Sorry,” Buck mumbles, slowly prying himself out of the hallway’s framing. Fuck, he should’ve thought more about what he was going to say on the ride over. He was definitely going to, but— Tommy Tommy Tommy Tommy…
Not talking about what happened with Tommy is a good starting point.
“Tommy…” he starts, without meaning to. Jeez, this has gotten way too far.
Buck clears his throat and tries again, trying to dig himself out of the hole he’s already dug down to hell: “Tommy, um, said you weren’t upset with me, but I don’t think that’s true.” He takes a deep breath. The words in his head are scrambling. “And I am, I really, really, really , am so so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you. Truly, Eddie, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and I know that’s not an excuse, so I get that you’re mad at me. I deserve it.”
Okay, basics out of the way. He doesn’t think he royally screwed that up, but the silence between them stretches awkwardly and he’s trying to think of what else he can say without stumbling through what he actually means.
“You’re fucking lucky I’m tired and on pain meds.”
“Um.” Buck doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but it shocks him enough to actually look Eddie in the eyes.
Eddie sighs. “I forgive you, man.”
Buck tries to breathe again. This a good thing. This is a really good thing. So why doesn’t it feel good?
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed about my foot being sprained and getting shoved to the ground by my tank-ass best friend, but I know it was an accident,” Eddie says. “And don’t worry about Christopher, he’s mostly just upset that you hadn’t apologized or helped me at all, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to win him back over.”
“Are we…”
I don’t think I can do this without you , Buck’s thinking. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just say that out loud. I think I really like him, Eds, tell me what to do.
“Yeah, Buck, we’re good. But next time, please just talk to me if you’re feeling upset, or for God’s sake talk to your therapist.”
Buck grimaces. “Yeah, I will, Eddie. Promise.”
“Good,” he says. Then, “Sorry you were feeling left out, or that you were being replaced, or whatever. You’re also literally in my will as my son’s legal guardian, so. I don’t know, perspective or something.”
Jesus Christ, he was being so stupid, oh my God. “Right. Yeah, it all feels a lot sillier looking back.”
Eddie actually chuckles a little bit at that. “Yeah.” He starts to sit himself up. “Now help me up to my bed.”
Eddie puts his good foot onto the floor, and Buck leans over to bear his weight as he stands. “Yeah. Yeah, I got you, Eds.”
“I know you do, Buck. You always do.” Buck opens the bedroom door and eases Eddie onto it. “You know, after injuring me, the least you could do is pull your weight around here as I’m hobbling around for a few days.”
Buck nods quickly. “Of course, Eddie. Whatever you need.”
Eddie smiles before settling himself under his sheets. “Good night, Buck.”
“‘Night, Eddie,” he calls back before exiting the room.
Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.
Actually, in the strangest turn of events, although Buck spends all the time he can manage at the Diaz house, somehow, Tommy’s name never gets mentioned! Everything just gets so busy that there really isn’t any time to sit Eddie down and tell him about it. What a shame.
“Hey, Dad, do you think Tommy could take me flying with you guys sometime?”
Buck definitely doesn’t almost drop the pan of eggs he’s flipping! And oh, look how interesting this batch of scrambled eggs is! He needs to be very careful not to mess these up! There’s a million things that could go wrong! For example, they could b—
“Oh, I’m sure he will, mijo.”
Eddie’s foot has healed up quickly, and he should be heading back to work on Monday. Three days from now. Just yesterday, Marisol had dropped by for lunch to check on Eddie and Chris. Tomorrow, Buck has the date with Tommy.
Oh God, he’s not ready.
“Buck?”
He turns, almost hitting Eddie with the hot pan in his hands.
“Hm?” he asks as he’s pushing the thankfully cooked eggs onto a plate.
“What are you doing this weekend?”
Tommy and I are going on a date this weekend. On Saturday. He kissed me. I want to kiss him again. We’re going on a date on Saturday. He kissed me. At my loft. His lips were soft as hell. He—
“I…” he sets the pan down and grabs the plate of eggs to set down on the table in front of Christopher. “I… actually have some errands I need to run. Why?”
“I don’t know, I was thinking we could hang out, just the two of us, maybe on Saturday?”
Buck almost trips.
“Saturday?”
Eddie looks at him like he’s fucking crazy. Like he’s grown heads out of his ass and his fingers have stretched abnormally large. Like he’s spewing rainbows out of his mouth and with every step he takes. Eddie doesn’t get it.
“Uh, yeah, but I take it you’re… busy?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Somehow Buck manages to place the plate down safely. “I, um, yeah, errands. Important. I—yeah.”
“Okay.” Eddie sits down next to Christopher. “Rain check, then. No worries.”
I gotta take a rain check…
You still owe me a beer.
“Yeah.”
Tommy knocks on his door at 7:58. Buck knows that because he’s been spending the last fifteen minutes sitting on his bed and staring at his phone. He needs to call someone—Bobby, maybe. He did help him out on his first real date, though he really does not like thinking about that night. Or anything from that time in his life. Maddie, most definitely. She could help. She would help. She… has a shift at the moment. Hen , would also be a winning choice.
But Tommy knocks on his door at 7:58 and Buck scrambles to open it for him.
Tommy smiles, eyes crinkling and Buck’s heart melting and aching. “Hey, Evan.”
Buck smiles back, thinking about nothing else but the kiss. Kiss me again, please. Please. I think I really like you.
“Hi, Tommy.”
It’s not a bar, no, but Tommy takes them to a nice Italian place. They order a Margherita pizza to split, and Tommy does in fact order a beer. It seems to be more for the joke though.
Tommy asks him if he wants to try his beer.
Buck nods yes like a dumbass, unable to tear his eyes from Tommy’s as he sips from the man’s glass. The beer is good, he thinks. Honestly, he’s so nervous that his taste buds have stopped sending signals to his brain.
Tommy, apparently, recognizes this, because of course he does, and halfway through their meal asks if he’s feeling okay, saying, “You’re a little… tense.”
Buck chuckles nervously. It’s bad to be nervous, isn’t it? But then again, he’s always nervous when he goes out with girls.
He wipes his hands on his jeans. “This is, uh, my first date with a dude!” He smiles. Then remembers, blanching, “But I’m not weirded out or anything.”
And it’s true! He’s not at all weirded out about—well, everything. Tommy is great! Tommy is fucking awesome. There’s just a lot on his mind.
Tommy even reaches over the table for his hand. Buck lets him take it because his face looks so soft. “Evan—”
“Tommy!”
Buck would recognize that voice anywhere. He stiffens immediately, eyes darting to Tommy’s, then their hands. Shit .
Tommy is the one who lets go of their hands first. He greets Eddie with a grin. At that point, Buck has no other choice but to face him as well. He plasters on what he hopes is a convincing enough half-smile, only to drop it as he spots Marisol behind him. They’re holding hands.
“Buck! You guys are here together!”
Jeez, does he really have to say that so loud?
Okay, well, Buck is sure that Marisol is a decent enough person if Eddie is pretty serious about dating her. He trusts Marisol enough to watch Christopher, but Buck does not know her very well.
Her eyes narrow, a smile playing on her lips.
Oh, fuck. She knows.
Buck decides that choking and almost dying was better than whatever the fuck is happening now.
“So I take it Eddie doesn’t know?”
They’re sitting in Tommy’s truck, still in the parking lot of the restaurant. Eddie was right—it’s a very nice car. He learns it was Tommy’s father’s and that he’s been keeping her well furbished. Still, he can tell the from the inside that she’s been well loved. It’s very sweet.
And Buck just fucked up their date.
“Tommy, I—”
Tommy takes his hand again. The other carefully tilts his chin up, just like that night in his loft. Buck’s eyes flutter shut on instinct.
“It’s okay.”
Tommy’s lips press onto his lightly, like the brush of a feather. Buck brings his own hand up to cup the back of Tommy’s head. He presses, desperate into Tommy’s mouth, scrambling to reach across the center console to touch . Buck’s hand traces up Tommy’s arm until he’s framing his face with it. There’s a hand drifting near the inside of of Buck’s thigh that he swears is fucking scorching him.
Tommy chases his lips when they pull away.
Buck decides to be brave. It might also be that he’s still half-hard.
“Do you want to come in? I have…” don’t say something weird, for the love of God, please don’t say something weird , “...stuff.”
Tommy grins again. Buck swears his knees buckle every time. Especially when Tommy leans in close enough that Buck can feel his breath on his lips. He can’t stop himself from swaying closer too. “How about a beer?”
A soft peck. That’s it.
Buck’s tripping over himself to reach the door without tearing his eyes away from Tommy’s lips.
“Okay.”
“I kissed Tommy,” he starts, as he walks up to Hen in the locker room. It’s Sunday. Eddie won’t be back until tomorrow, so it’s now or never. She drops her shoe on the floor and turns to him, eyes wide and blinking, mouth hanging open slightly. “I mean—he kissed me and then, I kissed him back, and we, uh, sort of went on a date? And there was, um, lots of, you know, kissing.”
“Hold up, hold up,” she says, swinging around to properly face him. “You went on a date with Tommy… Kinard?”
Buck swallows. “Yes?”
“Okay, see, now why are you answering that with a question?”
“Uh, yeah. Tommy and I went on a date. On Saturday.”
“Okay,” Hen says. “How did it go?”
“Um,” Buck feels himself flushing hot as he remembers making out in Tommy’s truck. He remembers Eddie and the restaurant. He thinks about the bottles of beer he still hasn’t brought down to the recycle.
Hen frowns a little. “Not so good?”
“No!”
“Oh—”
“No! No, I meant—” Buck huffs through his lips. “Fuck, I meant—”
“ Breathe , Buck.”
“It was really good,” he manages weakly.
Tell me about yourself, Evan. You said you wanted to get to know me, but I don’t really know a whole lot about you. Well, except everything that’s been on the news.
Hen places a hand on his wrist, even rubs her thumb over his skin. He really loves her a lot. “I’m glad, Buck. You deserve it.”
“Thanks, Hen.” He shuffles his feet. “I just don’t—all of this just feels normal. If anything, I feel better than I ever have, you know? I— why does none of this feel strange ? It should, right? I mean how—”
“How could you not have known this whole time?”
Buck nods. Hen takes his other hand and leads him down to sit beside her on the bench.
“I don’t know what I am. Is that okay? If I don’t know? If I’m just happy how things are now?”
“Buck, hon, you don’t have to come out, you know that, right?”
Buck frowns. “But wouldn’t that be, like, lying? I don’t—I don’t want to make Tommy go back in the closet or anything. That’s not fair.”
“Yeah, but you know, you don’t have to go shouting from the rooftops about it if you don’t want to. The thing is Buck, most people do the work for you. They find out you’re gay and that kind of thing spreads like wildfire,” Hen explains. “You don’t have to be the one to bring it up. If relationships come up again, you should bring up Tommy. You can be out without formally coming out. That’s just a thing to make straight people feel better about themselves. Does that make sense?”
Buck breathes. “I think it does.”
Hen grins. “Good. Now tell me everything.”
So he does. And it feels really good. They move up to the couch on the loft and he’s smiling and blushing so much that it hurts. He tells her about the wackass music Tommy had played on the drive to the station. He asks her how she knew and she tells him about the girl with wavy, red hair in the seventh grade. He tells her about the smile that makes him dizzy, and his eyes, and she mutters something about white boys. Buck can only roll his eyes. He tells her he loves her. She says it back. He’s glad he didn’t die from that first date seven years ago.
Buck texts Tommy as soon as he gets home.
Do you want to go to my sister’s wedding with me?