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Considering his track record lately— a complete inability to stop thinking about Tommy, even after all this time—he really should have seen it coming, but he hadn't, and now he's trapped on the couch in the firehouse, looking at Chimney, Eddie, Hen and Ravi, who are all staring at him with some measure of determination.
"This is an intervention," Chimney declares.
Everyone else groans.
"That is not how were going to do this," Hen scolds, elbowing him in the side.
Chimney throws up his hands. "You guys weren't saying anything!"
"Is someone going to tell me what's going on?" Buck wonders. The others look to Eddie, who rolls his eyes at having been summarily chosen to be the spokesperson.
"In my defense," Eddie begins. "I did tell them you would probably hate this."
"You're such a chicken," Ravi groans. "Buck, you're still moping. Either call Tommy or…"
Buck raises an eyebrow as Ravi trails off. Apparently, even he is reluctant to say what the 'or' is. So it must be really bad.
"Or," Hen picks up, looking hesitant but resolute about it. "We put your name down for a queer speed dating event on Thursday night."
"No thank you," Buck says instantly, because absolutely not. He may not have dated at all since he and Tommy broke up, but it's not like he hasn't been trying. He holds up his phone. "You don't need to worry about me, anyway. I'm on the apps."
"And how many dates have you been on?" Chimney asks, far more knowing about the situation than Buck would like.
Buck sighs. "None. But in my defense, I put I was bi on there and you wouldn't believe the messages I've gotten! No hate on people who like threesomes," he says in frustration, "but like, why is that the first assumption when someone sees I'm bi?"
"The apps are garbage," Hen confirms. "But look, this event is being thrown by a friend of Karen's. They're very open and accepting and I think it could be really good for you, even if you want to make some more queer friends."
"Or you could call Tommy," Eddie offers. "Those are your choices."
He misses Tommy like an ache in his chest, but after Bobby had died, he'd ignored all of Tommy's check-ins. Not intentionally, but…he couldn't face much yet. Once he'd felt better, it had felt like it was too late. Tommy hasn't texted him since and he's too, well, afraid to start it up again.
It's not a terrible idea, he can admits to himself, but just to be contrary, he says, "And what are you going to do if I do neither?"
They all look at each other before Chimney says, "I'll make you man behind for a month."
"What?!" Buck exclaims, standing up. "That's abuse of power!"
Chimney just shrugs, pops his gum. "Take it to the union, I guess."
And, of course, that's when the alarm goes off.
He actually spends the rest of the shift thinking about it, alternating between realizing that it would be good to meet some more queer people, but also looking at his last text with Tommy, sent a week after Bobby died.
Hi. Just checking in. Let me know you're okay.
It's mostly variations of the same text that Tommy sent quite a few times over that period. But now it's three months later, he's feeling better. Not perfect, but better. He could text Tommy, ask to talk, tell him he misses him.
But he still can't forget the look on Tommy's face that morning in the kitchen, the hurt, the resignation. He's both mad at Tommy for not sticking around so Buck could explain himself and mad at himself for having said what he said at all.
And he doesn't know what to do with that.
So he goes to the damn speed dating event.
"Hi," a woman says brightly when he makes his way into the restaurant rented out for the event. There's already a crowd milling, sipping drinks and he tells himself to just relax. He can always leave if he doesn't like it. "Here for our Finding Queer Love Event?"
Buck shoves his hands in his pockets. "Uh, yeah, I am. Evan Buckley?"
"Oh, Evan!" she says, holding out a hand. "I'm Adaline, Karen's friend."
Buck smiles sincerely, shaking her hand. "Hi, Karen told me about you. I'm, uh, I'm a little nervous."
"That's totally fine, most people are," she says reassuringly. "Here are the rules. First, you take this card-" she hands him a card with five blank lines on it. "-this is your match card. Each meeting is two minutes long. For every person you might be interested in, you write their names down on this card and, at the end of the night, you turn the card in. We have everyone split up between 'seated' and 'moving' to keep things simple. You're seated, so people will come to you. With me so far?"
Buck nods, a little dazed, and she continues, "We tally names and send numbers of matches. To start out, we do ask that you state your first name, age and occupation. Sound good?"
Buck's not totally sure about this set up, but when he thinks about it, he supposes it also takes the pressure off of making any decisions right away. "Yeah, yeah that works."
"Excellent," Adaline answers. "It starts in about ten minutes. You'll hear a beginning bell, and you take a seat. Then there will be bells every time your two minutes are up."
"Got it." Buck salutes her with the card and wanders away. Everyone seems to have a drink in their hand, so he wanders over to the bar and orders a simple IPA. He resists the urge to check his phone, instead deciding to make his way to a table to take a seat, choosing to examine his surroundings. It's a nice place, well-lit but warm, with tables scattered around to promote easy movement, two chairs at each table.
He sips his drink and marshals himself. Once everyone who's supposed to has picked a seat, the first starting bell rings and Buck feels as ready for this as he'll ever be.
His first person is a woman with shoulder length brown hair, pretty. "Hi," she says, voice soft, nice. Welcoming. "I'm Isa. 32, beautician."
"Hi," Buck says with what he hopes is an open smile. "I'm Buck, 33. I'm a firefighter."
"Oh that's cool," she says, perking up and Buck thinks that she might be as nervous as he is. "Do you like it?"
"I love it," Buck says. "Been doing it for 8 years, and I couldn't imagine doing anything else."
"That's awesome," she answers sincerely.
"What do you like about your job?" he asks.
She talks quickly about loving her clients and her coworkers, being able to be flexible with her schedule. She's nice, sweet and Buck thinks he should feel something for her, but he just doesn't. He finds himself disappointed about that.
His next person is a guy a little shorter than he is, short blonde hair, nice smile. Buck feels at ease with him as he sits down, but he'd also felt that with Isa, and it hadn't meant much.
"Hi," he starts telling himself to get it together. He's here and should make the most of it. "I'm Buck, 33, firefighter."
"Hi back," his companion says. "I'm Michael, 32, accountant."
For some reason the word 'accountant' makes him feel deflated but he can't explain why. Something feels a little off here.
His instinct is proven right when Michael launches into a spiel about cryptocurrency.
"…really," he's still saying as the bell rings after the two minutes are up. "…this is the best thing you can do for yourself. Think of the future, Buck!"
Buck sighs. This is gonna be a long night.
He has a long row of people come through. One woman, Beverly, is twenty years his senior and gives him the perfect recipe for chocolate pie. He thinks he might put her number down just to get more recipes.
Then comes David, who might be worse than cryptocurrency guy.
It starts out great, really. He's 36 and a museum curator, which sounds fascinating.
"What's your favorite exhibit?" Buck asks excitedly and David talks about the Egyptian exhibit that's visiting from another museum. Buck wants to go so bad, maybe he'll take Chris and Jee…
….and then the guy sneezes loudly into his palm and wipes it down the front of his blue dress shirt, somehow managing to keep talking the whole time.
Buck's never loved the term 'the ick' before but the feeling he gets at that moment can't be described as anything else. He lets the guy talk for the rest of the two minutes, keeps himself leaned away from the table as far as he can without falling out of his chair and sighs in relief when the guy is gone.
He feels like he's had enough and thinks he might duck out a now when someone else sits at his table before he has the chance to move.
He blinks in surprise when he sees the familiar face. The familiar face that still makes him a little weak in the knees, the soft hesitant smile, the slightly unshaven face that shows a little gray along the sides. Buck feels the butterflies in his stomach, his heart beating a mile a minute in his chest.
Oh. Oh, right, that's what this is supposed to feel like.
"I'm a little late," Tommy says, sounding sheepish. "But I got the spiel, so…Hi. I'm Tommy, I'm 40, and I'm a pilot."
Buck just stares, for maybe too long, because Tommy's smile starts to melt off his face.
Buck starts, tell himself to get his shit together and says, "Hi, Tommy. I've Evan, 33. I'm a firefighter with the LAFD."
Tommy's grin is full of relief. "Yeah? I'm a pilot with the LAFD. Firefighter pilot, I guess. Um…" he exhales a long breath. "Evan, I don't know what I'm doing."
Buck huffs a laugh. "I've had enough. Want to get out of here?"
"God yes," Tommy breathes, standing, moving out of the way so Buck can brush by him. Even that small contact makes Buck's entire body tingle.
Yep. That's definitely what it's supposed to feel like.
They pass Adaline standing at the front for any more late arrivals.
"Hi, um, sorry, but I think I'm done. Thank you so much," he says, ready to get some push-back at leaving the event early.
Adaline, though, doesn't look mad that he's breaking the rules he'd been given. Instead, she actually gives him a thumbs up, which makes him suspicious, but soon enough, he and Tommy are outside and he's so grateful that Tommy's here….but then he can't help but wonder…why is he here?
Buck turns to him. "What…what are you doing here?"
Tommy's smile turns into a slight grimace. "So, here's where I need to come clean…I got a text from Eddie."
Buck blinks. He'd certainly not been expecting that. "What?"
Tommy pulls his phone out of his pocket, the screen lighting up. He quickly makes his way to his texts and shows Buck the screen.
The first text is simple: the address of the place of the event.
The second says:
Eddie: Buck's going to be there on Thursday. You should be too.
Tommy: wait, what?
Eddie: You two are being stupid and we're taking matters into our own hands. Please go and talk to him, for the love of all of our sanities.
Buck hands the phone back, thinking about Adaline's approval, the fact that she's Karen's friend…that this whole thing was not his idea.
He explains this to Tommy.
"So-" he says when Buck is finished. "-this was just an elaborate plan to get us back together?"
"Apparently," Buck admits. "I'm sorry, this is probably the last thing you-"
"No!" Tommy interrupts, a little too loudly. They look back at the restaurant, but the event is still on for another hour or so. Regardless of that, Tommy grabs his hand and Buck lets himself be lead to Tommy's familiar white pickup truck.
"No," Tommy says again. "I…when you didn't answer my texts, I gave up…but I don't know, I guess Eddie gave me some hope. I figured if he was trying to get me to you, then maybe you…were still talking about me, I guess."
Buck bites his lip. "I've never stopped thinking about you. At all. The grief was a lot and once things felt better, I was afraid it was too late. This was some sort of attempt to get back out there."
"It's never too late," Tommy says softly. "So…how are you?"
Buck smiles softly. "I'm okay. Healing, though it feels like it's taking forever."
Tommy nods. "I get that. How about I take you to dinner? We can talk? I want to apologize for so much."
"Me too. I'd love to go to dinner," Buck says. "I can tell you all the ways I absolutely still have feelings for you. I baked, Tommy. So much that I'm not allowed to buy sugar in three LA stores for another month."
Tommy's grin is sweet and a little bashful. "Yeah?"
"Oh yeah," Buck confirms, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "But on one condition."
"Of course," Tommy answers readily. "Anything."
Anything. Of course it's anything, Buck thinks. Tommy may run, but he's always here when it really matters.
And this really matters.
"I buy you dinner," Buck says with a grin, bringing up an old, good-natured argument.
Tommy lets out a surprised laugh and Buck finds himself laughing too, leaning into Tommy almost without his consent until they're wrapped around each other in a tight hug.
"I missed you," Buck murmurs, breathing him in, the scent a soft woodsy smell, familiar and…well..loved.
Tommy presses a kiss to the side of his head. "I missed you too. Come on, let's go. We can flip for who pays when we find a place."
"Okay," Buck agrees. He pulls away to cup Tommy's face, plant a sweet kiss on his mouth, thumb in that cleft that Buck's never stopped thinking about.
"Sorry," he says, not really that sorry, not when Tommy's still here. They're going to dinner, they're going to talk. "I couldn't resist."
"Never apologize for that," Tommy says quietly. "Evan, I…"
"…I know," Buck whispers when he doesn't finish his sentence. Buck does know. He's never been more certain of anything. "I know a place near here. Follow me?"
"I will," Tommy promises, but before they can go their separate ways, Buck stops him with a hand on his arm.
"Hey, just real quick, what are your thoughts on cryptocurrency?"
Tommy looks adorably confused and Buck can't help a laugh, telling him he'll explain at dinner. He'll explain everything.
He thinks they're going to be just fine.
They just needed a little push.