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For once, Buck was the one who knew a guy. Well, Buck had pried an executive administrative assistant from the Getty out of her car last week on an MVA on the 110 North to the 5 North interchange up by Elysian Park. And because they were by Elysian Park, and he’d tried to distract her as Ravi busted out the saws ‘n jaws, Buck had told her about what Tommy had once told him: how the old Chavez Ravine had been home to entire neighborhoods that had been bought out or cheated out of their land when Dodger Stadium went in. The distraction had worked, and once they’d slipped the c-collar on her and gotten her on a backboard to get checked out at Glendale Memorial, she’d yelled out her phone number with the promise of getting him tickets to whatever exhibit he wanted at either the museum or the villa.
And she’d come through, in ways he hadn’t imagined.
As an “I’m sorry I didn’t call or text, because I was too busy wallowing in my own sorrow and finding a new place to live because my ‘best friend’ moved back and kicked me out of his house” present, Buck had offered Tommy a chance to go see the re-opened Sculpted Portraits from Ancient Egypt exhibit. Not only tickets, but an invite to the exclusive cocktail party, featuring a keynote from the Egyptologist who’d actually curated the collection and brought it over from the British Museum. Tommy, in his usual fashion, had said that Buck “didn’t owe him anything,” and that he was “glad we can be friends, because I value your friendship, Evan,” and before they could actually talk about the crushing sorrow that probably weighed on both their souls – or, at least Buck’s – they’d fucked on Tommy’s couch, and then in his shower, and then in his king-sized bed.
Someday, Buck knew they would have to learn to talk to each other, especially since he knew that hook-ups like this weren’t exactly healthy relationships for him. Especially as a former self-diagnosed sex addict. He hated to see himself fall into the same destructive, loathsome habits, but.
But.
Tommy made it so easy to forget with those arms, and that chest, and how he spooned Buck at night after carefully fucking Buck open like he was the most precious thing in the world.
Tommy cared, even if they were both trying to figure out how that whole ‘caring’ thing still worked.
So, they’d dressed up in their black tie best, and rubbed elbows with the elite of LA’s art scene. The hors d'oeuvres had been pretentiously small, so Tommy had promised Buck those little pizza bagel bites when they got back to his place that Buck occasionally indulged in. The wine, at least, had been decent, and it was…nice to live in a moment where he could wander around the Getty Villa at night, holding Tommy’s hand and reciting whatever trivia he could remember from Christopher’s Ancient Egypt phase.
He’d just gotten to the golden mummies of Bahariya Oasis during the Greco-Roman period when Buck heard a familiar laugh. A very familiar laugh. And as the words stopped coming out of his mouth, his eye caught a flip of red hair that he’d have known anywhere. There was no way to avoid it, either, since the flashing green eyes that went with the red hair zeroed in on him in a minute.
“Oh, shit,” Buck muttered, his hand tightening in Tommy’s. He wasn’t sure if he should let Tommy’s hand go, much less what he should actually say, and while he was having his internal moral dilemma, Taylor had completed her beeline over to him.
“Buck,” she said, a glass of red wine carefully cradled in her hand, as if it was something precious. “Fancy meeting you here.” He could feel her eyes x-raying his soul, from top of his product-less curls to the bottom of the black leather oxfords he’d bought for Chim and Maddie’s wedding, and every feeling he’d ever had in between. Her voice didn’t purr, exactly, but he was still surprised by how much meaning she managed to shove into one single word.
“H-hey, Taylor!” The words came out of his mouth almost in a chirp, and he could feel his face flush with mortification. He wasn’t sure if he should hug her, especially after the whole book fiasco, not to mention how ugly their breakup had been. They were in public, though, at a fancy event, and it was hard to forget how much time he and Taylor had spent together. Besides, the brief hype from the book had disappeared once the allegations about Councilwoman Ortiz hit headlines. And Buck wouldn’t have put it past Taylor to have her fingers in that, somehow.
Taylor took the decision out of his hands by leaning up and giving him the lightest of air kisses. Once done, she arched one of those elegant eyebrows at him, since she’d obviously caught what one of his hands was doing, and it wasn’t in his pocket or giving a high five.
“Who’s your friend?” she asked, in that innocent tone that she’d perfected over the years. If he knew anything, though, this wasn’t her malicious tone. Salacious, maybe, but not malicious. At least, not yet. Any interaction with Taylor was 50/50 on which way it would turn.
Not that Buck blamed her. Sometimes.
Buck turned back to Tommy, who also raised one of those eyebrows at him, and gave him a look that clearly said that the ball was in his court. So, Buck took a deep breath, and pulled on his big girl panties.
“Tommy, this is Taylor Kelly, my ex-girlfriend.”
Tommy just blinked, and made the ‘hmm’ sound that meant that Tommy was processing new information. Buck was sure Tommy cycled through the stories he’d heard, most likely from Eddie, about how that whole thing had gone.
So Buck, in a rush, turned back to Taylor. “Tay, this is Tommy Kinard, my, uh, my…” Except he wasn’t sure what to say. They weren’t quite ex-boyfriends at this point, since they still fucked and occasionally hung out and talked, but they weren’t boyfriends because they still hadn’t had that talk, because apparently he and Tommy were both tied for the gold medal in compartmentalizing. Fuck, what had Ravi called it?
“...my situationship,” was what fell out of his mouth, and Buck actually felt a little proud at that.
Until Taylor made an interested noise and smirked at him a little, looking up at them both from under those heavily-mascara-ed lashes. And Tommy just gaped, clearly offended.
“Evan.” As Tommy dropped Buck’s hand, Buck couldn’t help the sound of protest that squeaked out.
Tommy just stared at Buck, arms now crossed over his chest, and gave Buck a look that clearly said, “well, you asked for it.” It was the same look that he’d given Buck when Buck was being particularly bratty, and Tommy, rather than being turned on by it, bitched out in retaliation. Buck wasn’t in trouble – the good or bad kind – yet, but he knew he was in something.
Most likely, deep shit.
Buck shot a quick look at Taylor, who was watching the two of them with a cool, calculating look, sipping at her glass of wine like he and Tommy weren’t the most interesting thing happening in the whole room. Buck, though, knew how to read Taylor, and he knew she was all but salivating to get the story out of them.
“We, uh, we met on a call. Tommy’s a firefighter pilot at Harbor, and he–”
“Helped you save Captain Nash and Sergeant Grant?” Taylor filled in. “I didn’t even fight to cover that story.” She made a face. “I’m not allowed near LAFD for another two years, but that was a story I would’ve killed to cover.”
Then Taylor did something unexpected. Her small hand came up to touch Buck’s bicep, featherlight and gentle. “I heard about Captain Nash. And…” Her green eyes looked up into his eyes directly, no more of those coy glances through her eyelashes that she used so often to get her way. For all the shit that she’d written about the 118, and how fixated they were about each other, and how hard it was to crack their little family, and every other hate-filled word, Buck knew that she got it. That she knew how much Bobby had meant to him, and how complicated anything with fathers could be.
“I’m sorry, Buck.”
He brought his free hand up to cover hers, briefly. They’d never be friends again, but he was glad they could have this, at least. That there was still some understanding between them, because of everything they’d been through together.
His voice was quiet when he found it again, as level and emotionless as hers. “Thanks, Taylor.”
When he looked back at Tommy, there was a slight smile on his ex-boyfriend’s face. The tense lines around Tommy’s eyes had softened a little, as if Tommy got what was going through Buck’s brain. He actually grabbed Buck’s hand again, squeezing it gently. Maybe Tommy didn’t have all the details, even if he’d probably gotten an abbreviated version of the ‘Why we hate Taylor Kelly’ rant from either Chim or Hen or Eddie himself, but he still understood.
Buck knew how bad he was at letting the ones who’d wronged him back into his life. Dr. Copeland, and pretty much everyone else he knew, had reminded him how often he gave people a second and third and fifteenth chance, especially people who probably didn’t deserve them. Eddie, in particular, had never said in so many words that Buck was stupid for basically forgiving Abby, and his parents, and Taylor, and… But it had been heavily implied, over and over again. And Buck was working on it. He was.
The one he had to forgive, though, and had to get forgiveness from, was standing right in front of him. The one whose hand he still held, now tightly, in his.
“So, situationship?” Tommy said, eyebrows raised and lips pursed, his voice low, as if he’d forgotten that Taylor was even there. Or, because he knew Taylor was there, and that having this out in front of people was the only way they’d actually have the conversation.
“That’s w-what Ravi called this thing,” Buck said, not sure what else to say. “It-it kinda made sense, since we’re not back together, but we’re not-not really platonic.”
“Buck fucked me once in the back of my news van,” Taylor offered helpfully. “I’m pretty sure we weren’t even friends at that point, much less anything else.”
“Anyway,” Buck cut in, with a glare at Taylor, “I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“I guess introducing your ex-boyfriend to your ex-girlfriend would be kind of awkward,” Tommy said, giving Buck the side-eye, while holding his free hand out to Taylor. Taylor’s hand looked so small in Tommy’s bear paw, and it gave Buck a jolt to realize that both of those hands had been wrapped around his dick. He must’ve made some sort of noise, because both Taylor and Tommy turned to look at him, midst hand-shake, a smirk on both their faces.
“This one’s actually bitchier than Diaz, Buck. I should’ve known you’d like them that way,” Taylor pronounced, gently removing her hand from Tommy’s to pat Buck’s cheek. “I approve, situationship or not.”
Again, Tommy only snorted in that disbelieving way he had, though this seemed more exasperated than fond.
Buck pointed his finger at Tommy. “This-this proves nothing. And I have no idea what you want me to do to prove it to you.” He stalked in closer, hand coming to rest at the open collar of Tommy’s burgundy button-down. “I do not love Eddie like that. I do not see Eddie like that.” He dropped his voice, so that Taylor hopefully wouldn’t hear. “And I would never let him fuck me with that purple dildo like you did right before we came here. He’d probably die of embarrassment if he even knew I had a purple dildo.”
Except that he forgot how sharp her ears were. Just like her wit. And her teeth. “Is that where I left it?” Taylor asked, but Buck didn’t pay much attention to her.
Instead, he moved closer to Tommy, entering into his ex-boyfriend’s space, until they stood toe-to-toe. “I’ve seen Eddie in his tighty-whiteys and a button-down, like he was trying to be that guy in the dance scene that wasn’t the movie with the airplanes, but he made it look way less sexy.” Buck’s free hand crept up, so that both of his hands tugged at the points of Tommy’s collar, coming up to cup the back of Tommy’s neck. “Dating Eddie would be like dating Hen, or Chim. He’s my family, and right now I kinda wanna kill him, because he’s being an asshole,” Taylor and Tommy snorted in unison at that, “but he is not the one I’m in love with.”
Tommy’s eyes widened, but he didn’t back away from Buck’s grip. “You said you don’t have to want to sleep with everyone you have feelings for, and you didn’t have to have feelings for everyone you sleep with,” was Tommy’s quiet response.
“And everyone’ll tell you that I Buck everything up, and I’m a-an idiot,” Buck said, just as quietly, eyes only on Tommy. He moved in an inch closer, until all he could see was Tommy. “You’re beautiful, and hot, and wonderful, and I don’t know why everyone wouldn’t want to sleep with you. Because I did. And-and I still do.”
Tommy dropped his eyes, so that all Buck could see were Tommy’s thick, dark eyelashes. “It sounded like you didn’t have feelings for me.”
Buck inhaled sharply. That was a punch to the gut. But, honestly, one that he probably deserved. “Tommy. Oh my god, that is not how I meant it. You’re– You’re so out of my league, and you were the one who took Eddie to Vegas and didn’t sleep with him, and I wasn’t sure if I was your second choice, and–”
And then Tommy’s mouth found his, and Buck felt like he was drowning in the sight and taste of his ex-boyfriend all over again. Tommy’s hands grabbed at the belt loops on his fancy suit pants, dragging Buck’s hips flush against Tommy’s, and there was the reaction he’d expected. But before he could chase the hardness that he wanted, Tommy pulled back and rested his forehead against Buck’s.
“It was never about Eddie. It was always about you.” Tommy leaned in, and gently kissed Buck’s mouth again. “And, if I have it my way, it’ll be about you for a long time.” Tommy’s blue eyes stared into Buck’s, as if Tommy was trying to read through Buck’s soul. “If that’s–”
“Yes, I want that, y-yeah, that-that sounds good,” Buck stammered, using his grip on Tommy’s collar to haul him in again for another kiss.
“I hate to break this up,” Taylor’s voice cut in, “since this is way more rom-com than I thought even Evan Buckley could get, but–” She waved her hand at their surroundings, giving them both a pointed look.
And, once again, Buck could feel his face heating up, just as the erection straining against his fly wilted a little. And it occurred to him that he’d just had the most open, honest, heart-wrenching conversation with his ex-boyfriend ever, in front of his ex-girlfriend, who had written a fucking tell-all book about the LAFD that basically starred her and Buck’s relationship. When he actually turned to face Taylor, she was grinning at him, fanning herself with her hand.
“I’m glad to know that you’re still a fucking train-wreck, Buckley,” she said, a fond look on her face. She turned and poked Tommy in the chest. “He’s a good one. He can be emotionally constipated, and hopefully he doesn’t ask you to move in instead of actually talking about his feelings–” When Buck and Tommy both went quiet and refused to look at each other, Taylor just gaped at the two of them. “Oh my god, Buck. What the fuck. Why can’t you just find a free bathroom somewhere, like normal people?”
And though he knew Taylor hadn’t meant it that way, Buck still turned back to his boyfriend and grinned. “We could do that, if you want. F-find a bathroom. Not move in, because we–”
And Tommy kissed him quiet. That dark, smoldery look of Tommy’s raked Buck from head to toe, and back up to Buck’s mouth again. Tommy said in his raspy, sex-on-a-stick voice, “I do have the strangest urge to explore the facilities.”
And Tommy dragged Buck off to the single person toilet just off the coat closet to prove to Buck exactly what they could get up to.
A handjob and a blowjob later, Buck noticed Taylor talking to one of the archeology team from the British Museum, a fresh wine glass in her hand. She made some sort of excuse to the very posh looking woman, and made her way back over to him and Tommy. As she passed by, she smirked at the two of them and raised her wine glass at them, as if in cheers. “Just remember,” she whispered as they passed by her, “I was the one who gave you the purple dildo.”
“We appreciate your service in educating Evan in the art of its use,” Tommy said in a dry, serious tone.
Taylor snorted. “Mention me in the wedding toast, and we’ll call it even.”