Brie, but not the cheese

“He asked to talk, I was a mess over Bobby. I was talking Chim down from his survivors guilt, trying not to be beaten up by Eddie for not doing enough to save Bobby.” Buck tries to explain. “I meant to get back to him, I just. I was barely surviving Lucy, but if I knew.”

“He didn’t tell you he was going before the disciplinary board?” Lucy asks, her tone softening. “Fucking martyr.” She mumbles under her breath and shakes her head. “I am sorry about Bobby, about what you went through after he died. I know how much it hurt me, I can’t imagine what if felt like for you. But I am still going to hold some resentment for losing my work partner. He risked his life and his job more than once. It’s lucky he wasn’t arrested and sent to prison, yet none of your team even checked on him after the funeral. Or even after you broke up. That’s kinda shitty behaviour from friends, isn’t it?” Lucy asks looking as if she doesn’t need an answer from Buck. The softness having turned harder once again.

Buck takes what she says and just nods. “Yeah I get it. We messed up. I messed up. I should have jumped at the chance to talk to him, I should have checked on him.” Buck might just kick himself until the day he dies that he didn’t respond.

“No. Ok maybe. I don’t know. But Tommy also should have said he needed help. You can’t be expected to know what he wanted to talk to you about. It’s a mess. You’re both messes. Neither of you are very good at communicating with each other. With everyone else you both manage. But when it’s between the two of you. You both suck.” Lucy stated tiredly, giving Buck the impression she knew all about the ups and downs he and Tommy have had.

“I hate that I couldn’t or didn’t help him. I need to make it up to him. I need to see him, to talk to him. To fix. To fix this if I can. I lo-, I miss him Lucy. Please. Please tell me where he is.” Buck is ready to get on his knees and beg if it helps his case.

Lucy sighs deeply and pulls out her phone. “I shouldn’t tell you anything about him. I should let you all suffer the consequences of your indifference towards him. But I’m not heartless. I don’t know where he is living exactly but I’ve sent you an address that will help you find - oomph.”

Buck wraps her into a hug before she’s fully stopped talking, holding onto her with all the hope he has of making things right with Tommy. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He murmurs against her head.

“I need to breathe Buck.” She says pushing Buck off her playfully. “When you find him, tell him something for me? Tell him I’m gonna kick his ass for lying about asking all of you for help. And….. that I miss working with him.”

“Of course. Anything else?” Buck asks feeling lighter than he has in months.

“Yeah. If he doesn’t want to see you, let him go Buck. It won’t do either of you any good to drag this out any longer.” Lucy adds somewhat mournfully. Breaking Buck’s heart in the process. He never once’s stopped to think that Tommy wouldn’t want to see him. That Tommy might be resentful for losing his job, while Buck and the rest of the 118 got to do what they loved.

“Is he. Does he hate me?” Buck’s voice sounds scared and childlike even to his own ears, he doesn’t really want an answer to that but he needs it.

“No. I think he loves you, which makes it harder every time you give him hope that you’re going to stick around.” Lucy turns to leave, shouting a good luck over her shoulder.

“He’s the one who keeps leaving me though.” Buck mutters, running a hand down his face. He may have a lead on finding Tommy but will Buck be welcomed when he finally tracks him down?

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4

he'd been planning on going back to his house to batch cook before he'd seen meg's kitchen, and maybe this is why people put up with zero walls here — the kitchen is huge and gorgeous and he could make an entire five course meal without running out of counter space. not that he would — who would he cook for, anyway? (the reason that sal's not house sitting is because his daughter is on school break and gina's just finished a case and they're going up the coast for the weekend. tommy knows exactly what happened. sal agreed to help meg out before she told him the dates, and then he had to burn a valuable tommy favour to get him out of trouble.)

he's juggling five bags of groceries and he can't really reach the button for the elevator when another man walks up beside him. he's clearly coming back from the gym or a run, and he jabs the button for both of them. the elevator arrives right away. "thanks," tommy says, shuffling into the elevator. the other guy shrugs and eyes the bags curiously. "you go shopping when you were hungry or something?"

tommy barks a laugh and tries to ignore the way the guy's hair is curling with sweat at the back of his neck. "i work a lot, i'm trying to plan ahead." the guy laughs. "i know what that feels like. oh — what floor?"

tommy has to think about it. "uh — six." the guy nods and bumps his fist against four and six. "you know, you really want to be five or lower if you're going to live in an apartment building," he says. "easier to get out in an emergency."

"the whole state is an emergency," tommy jokes, just before they hit four. the guy laughs and tommy thinks about the prepper on the fourth floor with a beautiful laugh for the next seventy two hours. he stops on hour seventy three because they get called out to a high rise medical incident.

if sal was around, he'd definitely be making fun of tommy for that

when he get home from his shift he walks into the elevator and sees prepper from four standing on one side and a brunette woman standing on the other. they're glaring daggers at each other. tommy debates waiting for the next one but he's exhausted and he can put up with whatever is going on for the next four floors.

prepper stays on the elevator when the brunette gets off, and once the doors are closed and they're moving again he looks over at tommy and says "veronica and i went on one date and then she dated my roommate and she does not like me at all" and tommy blinks at him and absorbs all of that information and comes up with "—how do you have a roommate here?" right when the doors open on six.

"it was during the lockdowns, so…" prepper shrugs and gets off with tommy, looking him up and down. tommy flushes. "you look like you've been awake since the last time i saw you."

"just the last twenty four hours." tommy disagrees, even though that doesn't sound much better. prepper snorts and opens the door to the stairs. "what, are you a doctor or something? get some sleep, man."

"or something," tommy calls after him. he's got the right idea, though. tommy heats up one of the meals he made earlier in the week and shoves it into his face before falling asleep on the couch. he wakes up a few hours later and makes it up to the bedroom.

they run into each other again the next morning, tommy's work duffle over his shoulder. prepper has a similar one. "not looking quite so dead on your feet," prepper says, grinning brightly at him. tommy grins back. "if you were this charming with veronica i'm shocked it didn't last." prepper gapes at him and then laughs, startled. "okay, man, i'm just glad that you got some rest."

"yeah, the soundproofing here is better than a lot of buildings i've been in," tommy agrees. "you need to worry about soundproofing?" prepper asks, amused. his grin does something downright dangerous. tommy flushes again and shrugs the shoulder his duffle isn't on. "not if you're doing it right." he darts out of the elevator when the doors open and to his truck, eager to get away before he says anything more daring.

he's distracted for the first few hours of his shift whenever they aren't in the air, and lucy asks him what happened last night because obviously something did. tommy has no way to explain prepper, so he shrugs and says that nothing happened. because nothing did.

"you gotta explain that, man," prepper says, and tommy's been on shift for forty eight hours. prepper looks as tired as he feels. "explain what?" tommy asks, rubbing a hand over his face. "the thing about the soundproofing." right. he'd almost forgotten about that. "oh. well, when you're having good sex, you're generally too busy to spend much time yelling about it."

prepper snickers the rest of the way to his floor, bumping into tommy's shoulder companionably when he gets off. "i'll have to keep that in mind next time," he muses, running a hand through his hair. tommy swallows the urge to offer to demonstrate. all he knows about the guy is that he dated veronica one time. just because he's charmed tommy with conversations that last less than a minute means absolutely nothing. tommy also swallows the joke that that would mean he was thinking about tommy while he was having sex and just waves him off, smiling tiredly. "get some sleep, walking dead."

the next few days they're on opposing schedules; tommy's walking into the building when prepper is leaving or the other way around. tommy checks the calendar and sees that he's only got two days before meg is back. he wants to do something insane like give prepper his number and ask if he wants to get a coffee sometime. that is friendly or date behaviour, depending on how prepper wants to take it.

the day before he leaves, tommy is in the elevator when it opens on the fourth floor and prepper steps in wearing an lafd shirt. tommy stares at him. "you're a firefighter?"

"hey, don't be mean just because you're a doctor, we're equally cool," prepper grins at him.

"i said something like that when you asked if i was a doctor. i'm a pilot with the lafd," tommy clarifies, blinking at him.

"no way! oh man, that must mean you're out of harbor, right? that's where the airfield is. hey, do you know—"

"i don't actually live here," tommy blurts out. "i'm house sitting. they're coming back tomorrow."

"oh." prepper's smile falls. tommy guesses he can't call him prepper anymore — that was just basic fire safety about the fifth floor. "well, uh. i mean. i hope the building was nice to you."

the doors ding open and tommy bites back a swear and hits the close door button. "do you want to do something that means we can have a conversation that lasts longer than thirty seconds?"

"like — uh, like what?"

"there's always coffee?" tommy asks, something delicate and hopeful blooming behind his ribs.

"i'm gonna give you my number," prepper says, smiling brightly when the doors ping open again. "sorry, mrs. dawson! you know how they get here." he crowds tommy out with him, stopping by the doors and pulling his phone out. "okay, give me yours and i'll send you a text."

"will you really, or will veronica and i have something in common?" tommy jokes. he gets to see prepper blush and watch his eyes go dark, his eyes flicking briefly towards tommy's mouth. "i mean, you could have the first part of the night in common, yeah," prepper says. "i'm hoping it ends better."

"my name's tommy."

"i'm evan. buckley. it's nice to officially meet you," evan says, watching tommy type his number into his phone. evan takes it back and types for a second, and tommy feels his phone vibrate in pocket. "text me back when you get to your station."

evan waits until tommy is opening his truck door to speak again. "maybe we can even test out your soundproofing theory. see which one of is right!"

"Bobby, you don't understand. He did the fake mouth static. The same one he did when we were flying out to the cruise ship, and he — okay, I know there's an accent, but Tommy told me he has this friend who does stage plays and every time she needs to learn an accent she drags him into practicing with him—"

"Buck, radios fail all the time when there's engine trouble." Bobby wiped his hands clean, staring at Buck. "I'll reach out to Harbor, okay? Find out if he's on shift."

"Thank you," Buck sighed.

"I really think you need to stop listening to that," Bobby nodded towards the phone and the air traffic app that Buck had running. "Some people would say that you're fixating."

"It's not fixating. I checked."

"Checked with who?"

"—Can you please call Harbor now?" Buck asked, leaning across the island. "Please. I'll finish dinner."

Bobby opened his mouth and then paused, looking Buck up and down. "…Don't let it burn. And don't start calling around just yet."

"I'm sorry, you want me to what?" Tommy repeated, looking between them in disbelief.

"We've done it before with the Spruce Goose," Parker assured him.

"Well," Eliot cut in. "Technically, the Goose never actually took off—"

"Eliot, stop scaring the man. Everything is possible — and safe — because of these fun little robots Breanna and I rigged up. I call 'em Parker Three and Four—"

"I voted for Hardison Two and Eliot One."

"They are called Bosley and Q! Hardison, you can't just go renaming robots that I built, there's got to be a law against that. A sibling bro code."

"I never signed any code," Alec protested.

Breanna bared her teeth at him. "I will delete your WoW save files."

"Bosley and Q, men in the chair, big fan."

"It's simple, Tommy. Parker will dose the mark before he gets into the helicopter, and when he starts to nod off, you start faking an emergency. You'll land in this clearing, and then Eliot and Breanna will dress the scene to make it look like a crash happened."

"And I'm doing this because…" Tommy shook his head. "Wait. Back up. You crashed the Spruce Goose? Howard Hughes' plane? You know that's a piece of aviation history. If we're talking fixed wing it goes Wright, Hughes, the Avro Arrow…"

"Relax. We only pretended to crash it," Eliot slapped Tommy on the back, grinning widely. "That means you're in, right?"

"Okay, but no one has told me why we're faking a helicopter crash in the first place."

"Ah," Harry grinned. "First we crash the helicopter, and then—"

"This is Thomson, tail number N536FG — we've hit turbulence and are experiencing some engine trouble. We flew over the east side of Topanga about five minutes ago—" Tommy cut himself off and bzzted into the radio, dragging it out for a minute before muting the radio.

"I should never have let you take one of Sophie's acting classes," Eliot sighed, pushing his sunglasses lower down on his nose.

"Pork rind, Spence?" Tommy offered, holding the bag out. He patted a hand against the cooler he was sitting on. "I brought enough for everyone."

"Hey!" Breanna yelled, waving her hands. "We could use a little help over here!"

"Sorry!" Tommy called back. "I gotta be here to make the call!"

"I have to watch him and make sure he doesn't embellish!"

"You were the one who was supposed to be doing this in the first place, Eliot! Tommy, being out of breath from carrying something heavy would help sell it," Alec added, bracing his hands against his knees.

Eliot and Tommy exchanged a glance. "Nah, we're good."

"Good god, there's two of them," Alec muttered.

"We can always swap jobs and you can be the one to get punched in the face," Eliot offered.

"…You know, you're right, lugging helicopter parts is more my speed. Parker!"

"What?!" Parker demanded, appearing at his elbow.

"Woman, don't sneak up on me like that, you know I have a weak—"

"—Thomson, do you copy?"

"Radio's going in and out," Tommy drawled, his breath hitching. "I think I see fire down by the tail. I'm going to have to set her down."

"What are your coordinates?"

"Instruments are on the fritz. Last known are," Tommy checked his notes and rattled the coordinates off, quirking an eyebrow at Eliot. Eliot crossed his arms.

"Tower, do you— I can't hear anyone— oh god. That was the fuel tank."

"Thomson? Do you copy? Evacuate to a safe distance. Thomson? Are you still there?"

Tommy clicked off the receiver.

"Hurry up!" Eliot hollered across the field. "We're on the clock. Need to be on the road in ten!"

"Eliot, Mister Wilson and Parker are already with our poor injured executive. Hardison and Breanna and I will go back with Mister Kinard." Sophie dropped a set of keys in Eliot's hand. "I know this comes with its own siren, but please try not to speed too much."

"Aw, Soph. It's not like I'm Parker." Eliot grinned and saluted Sophie as she shuddered, turning to the field. "Hurry up slowpokes, or she'll leave you here!"

"Hurry up, he says, after not helping at all," Alec huffed, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder. "Breanna!"

"Hold your horses, geez, I was just giving it a little artistic flair," Breanna called back, pushing her way out of the bushes. "Let's blow this popstand. Hey, Tommy, have you ever played Spirit's Ruse before?"

"Thomas, would you be a dear and carry that cooler back to the truck?"

"Sure thing, Miz Devereaux." Tommy winked at her, hefting the cooler up and walking besides Breanna. "I played Pokémon, but I'm pretty sure that's not the same thing."

"Yes and no. Okay, so the cool thing about Spirit's Ruse is that you can—"

"Nu-uh, come on, we haven't had time to do a raid together in ages! The Horde comes first."

"I've got another week of vacation, I think we can find time to do both," Tommy promised, laughing. "We're not letting Sophie drive us back, are we?"

"You learn how to drive from a cabbie one time and people never let you live it down!" Sophie complained, ducking into the back. "Ooh, Eliot made sandwiches. One for Tommy, one for Breanna, one for me… and a note saying that Hardison can have the rest of Tommy's snacks. Oh dear."

"That was ten years ago," Alec groaned, sliding into the driver's seat. "Man can hold a grudge like nobody's business."

"You have met him, right?" Tommy settled into the passenger seat, checking the sandwich bag Sophie passed to him. "I'll split with you if you let me and Breanna try the card game before we do a raid."

"Hey, Nash. No one out on a call right now. Nope, not even in the air," Melton's voice crackled over the line. "Shit, and they said VOiP was supposed to make everything sound crisper. What a crock."

"And what about anyone not on shift today?"

"Not on— Nash. Did Buckley put you up to checking in on Kinard?"

"He heard something on the radio that concerned him," Bobby said slowly, gently spinning his chair away from the door. "I just… wanted to make sure."

"Talk about a mess," Melton sighed. "He's on vacation. Portland. No — hang on, where's that paperwork — New Orleans. Whoever Buckley heard on the radio wasn't any of my guys."

"Thanks, Melton. I appreciate it."

"Now you owe me one. And I'm gonna come calling for something big. Like you cooking for one of my family reunions."

Bobby laughed. "We'll see what we can do about that."

"Yeah, well. If Kinard tells me Buckley tracked him down in Louisiana, the price goes up. Gotta go before we get a call. Stay sharp out there."

Bobby hung up the phone when Melton disconnected and stared at the wall. Okay. So that was… that was good, that it wasn't Tommy. But Buck obviously was fixating, at least a little bit. And that part wasn't so good.

"Hey, hon," he said to Athena's voicemail. "I'm going to bring Buck over after our shift; I think he could use a little time out of his place. I'll stop for groceries on the way, we'll make some food together and… I dunno. Kid's hurting. He should have a safe place to hunker down if he needs it. Okay. Love you. Home safe."

He tucked his phone away and checked to make sure he didn't have any urgent emails before heading back out to the kitchen. "…Buck, I'm pretty sure those potatoes were chunks before I went to the office."

"Yeah, uh — roasts go great with mashed potatoes, though, right?"

Bobby huffed softly, shaking his head. "You kept listening to the radio, didn't you?"

"Just before the radio cut out, the gas tank caught fire," Buck told him, bracing his hands against the counter. Bobby watched as they shook. "They're sending out the 147."

"Tommy's in New Orleans right now."

"Wh-what?"

"He took vacation time. He's been gone for a few days," Bobby reassured him. "Whoever you heard on the radio wasn't Tommy."

"Uh… dispatch? This is Officer Williams. We found the crash site."

"And?"

"Well. There's a helicopter but uh… it's parked. No sign of a pilot or passengers anywhere. No sign of any damage. It's just… sitting here."

"Better start calling around to all the air fields and find out who's missing a bird, Officer Williams."

"See?" Bobby flipped the radio off. "Nothing to worry about. Pranksters."

"Sure," Buck frowned, reaching out to turn the radio back on before he caught the look Bobby was giving him, turning the movement into shoving his hands in his pockets.

"We've still got to make the salad," Bobby reminded him, purposefully ignoring the look on his face. "You can cut up the toppings."

"You got it, Cap."

They'd talk about the definitely not fixating once they were done their shift. That was a conversation best left for when they were off the clock.

"Hey!" Tommy glanced over his shoulder as Breanna took her turn, narrowing his eyes at Alec. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to mess with other people's stuff? You don't even have my passcode."

"Aw," Breanna cooed, resting her chin on her hands. "Hardison, he's adorable. He thinks you need to know his passcode."

"I know. He says that every time," Alec grinned. "It's cute."

"There's two of you." Tommy sighed. "What are you doing to my phone?"

"Upgrading security, deleting your biometrics from the corporate servers but keeping them enabled locally — for security — oooh, teaching you how to make private photo albums, because this is not meant for public consumption, what even is this—"

"Ooh, ooh, I wanna see." Breanna winced theatrically the second Alec turned the phone towards her. "Tommy, my man, you can pull off a lot but not paisley. Hide that photo and shred that shirt." She paused. "Actually, a photo of you in that shirt after it's shredded would do spectacularly online."

"I'm not doing online dating," Tommy sighed. "Do you know how many catfish are out there?"

"I can retask one of my bots to de-catfish your account," Breanna offered. "By the way, you just died."

Tommy glanced down at the card mat. "I think you're not explaining the rules properly."

"Hello, thief. Of course I cheated."

"You're a terrible influence on your sister, Alec."

"Hey, she got in trouble with the Feds before she ever started working for us."

"For? For?! You mean with!"

"Now you've done it," Sophie murmured, slipping into the chair beside Tommy. She slid him a beer, shaking her head as Alec and Breanna kept arguing. "They'll be at that all day."

"Parker and Eliot?"

"Eliot is menacing while Parker and Harry are playing fixer. They should be wrapped up by the end of the day."

"Hmm. It was fun while it lasted. Til the next caper," Tommy clinked his beer against her glass of whiskey.

"Oh, you have to stay for dinner. Eliot loves to cook when his friends are visiting." Sophie patted his arm, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Besides, it's been a while since we've had a moment to sit and talk. I don't think I've had a chance to tell you about Astrid."

"Okay. I can stay for one more day."

"The number you have dialed is out of service."

Buck blinked at his phone before hanging up. He tapped Tommy's contact again.

"The number you have dialed is out of service."

Buck scowled, turning away from the stove and digging through the drawer under his coffee maker. He pulled out the scrap of paper he was looking for with a triumphant cry, eyeing Hen's handwriting as he carefully entered the phone number one digit at a time.

"The number you have dialed is out of service."

"Bullshit," Buck hissed, his phone clattering against the counter. "You're not out of service!"

Something was going on, and Buck was going to figure it out. And no, Bobby, he definitely wasn't fixating. That was ridiculous. Not even Athena's story about some big shot coming in and screaming that he needed protection because he was about to be murdered by his business partner had been enough to distract him.

He couldn't blame Bobby for not quite believing that it had been Tommy on the radio; he hadn't been the one who'd spent two weeks listening as Tommy practiced lines with his friend. But Buck knew that terrible Southern accent. The mysterious helicopter in a field wasn't just a couple pranksters. He just couldn't figure out what Tommy had to do with it.

Buck scrolled idly through his phone book as he thought about what he was going to do next. He could — oh, he could try Tommy's landline.

"The number you have dialed is out of service."

"It's a landline," he said to himself in disbelief. Buck grimaced, scrolling higher. He was really hoping that he wouldn't have to —

"Yello. What can I do for ya?"

"Hey, Lucy."

"…Nope." The call disconnected.

"I should have expected that," Buck sighed, dialling again.

"You have ten seconds to hang up before I drive over there and shove your phone where the sun don't shine."

"Wait, I just — I have a bad feeling. Have you talked to Tommy? Since after lunch?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

"I think he's in trouble?" Buck winced, dropping his head into his hand. That probably wasn't going to get Lucy to cave and tell him anything.

"He's having what looks like incredible Cajun food and I'm mad I'm not there with him, so… if that was all, I'm hanging up now. Call me back again at your own risk."

"Thank you, Lucy."

"Later, jackass."

He should feel better about that. If Tommy had told Melton he was going to New Orleans, and he'd sent Lucy a photo of Cajun food, then he had to be in Louisiana. But — but the pit in his stomach wasn't going away.

If Tommy really had been in an accident, even if he'd been using a fake name for whatever reason, someone would know that he was in trouble, and he would have heard about it through the grapevine. Yeah. Everything was fine.

…Fuck.

"No, what you need to do is — here, if you do that combo, then — never mind, I'm just gonna take this away from you."

Tommy snorted when Eliot grabbed the controller out of his hands, rolling his eyes. He shifted to the middle of the couch as Eliot jumped over the back, landing beside him. "I thought you were against WoW on a… philosophical basis? Isn't that what you called it?"

Eliot elbowed him in the ribs on the way to smacking Alec in the back of the head. "So I like being able to piledrive a guy to death, sue me. Hardison, eyes up, didn't you see that guy behind you? I'm not gonna save your ass every time."

"No one invited you to play," Alec muttered, throwing a pillow at him.

"And you're regretting it now, aren't you?"

"This is just another one of those 'I'm never going to learn Klingon' moments, isn't it Spence?" Tommy asked

"Hey, Hardison bet me I couldn't do it because he thinks I'm bad at languages, so. I had to take his money."

"He bought into that down home bullshit?" Tommy looked over at Alec, pursing his lips. "And you call yourself a con man, Alec."

"Like you wouldn't have believed his aw shucks routine," Alec volleyed back, swearing when his character got surrounded.

"I was in his unit," Tommy protested.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You were more like the unit's mascot with that baby face of yours, but okay," Eliot smirked as the character he was fighting collapsed on screen. "Need a hand there, buddy?"

"It means that I knew Spence knew at least six languages fluently by the time I was back stateside at twenty one, so you should know that after knowing him for so long," Tommy continued, dodging Alec's elbow.

"The government just keeps giving people PTSD at younger and younger ages, doesn't it? That's depressing."

"Don't join the army, Breanna," Tommy and Eliot said at the same time.

"Only for a con, never for a career," Breanna agreed. Tommy shot her a look. "What? Talk to Tara about that one."

"Hey," Parker popped up in the space between Alec and Tommy, poking his shoulder. "Come with me if you want to live."

"You two are up to Terminator, huh?" Tommy asked, waiting for a break in the action to worm his way off the couch. Spence and Alec didn't even blink. "What are we doing?"

"Dessert," Parker hummed, turning on her heel and heading for the front door.

"No chocolate!"

Tommy looked sideways at her, raising an eyebrow. "I won't tell if you don't."

"Deal. You're driving." Parker slugged him in the shoulder.

"And paying, I assume?"

She laughed. "You catch on quick. No wonder Eliot keeps you around."

No way. No way. Buck sped up, dodging through people on the street to catch up to Tommy.

Tommy, who shouldn't even be in the city, let alone the state. He'd pressed Bobby to look at Tommy's vacation request. Bobby had given him a look but he'd done it anyway, and Tommy was supposed to be gone for another five days. But here he was, in the flesh, in the middle of Los Angeles.

This explained the gnawing feeling in his stomach that hadn't gone away after everyone assured him that Tommy hadn't had anything to do with the helicopter in the field, that it had been some sort of a prank and he was fine. Well. He was obviously fine, he was walking down the street beside a guy with long hair and with a frozen yogurt in his hand.

"Tommy!"

Tommy and his — boyfriend? — weren't the only ones who paused. There was a trio walking in front of them who also slowed down and turned to look, and… oh, geez, he was with a group. Buck took a deep breath and steeled himself. They were going to have this out and Buck didn't care if it made him look crazy in front of Tommy's friends. Buck already looked crazy to everyone else he knew — might as well go for a perfect score.

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh," Tommy's eyebrows drew together the way they always did before he was about to say something cutting and bitchy that would make Buck laugh, "Eating frozen yogurt?"

He wasn't going to laugh. He wasn't.

"You're not hurt?"

"Why would I be hurt?"

"Uh, gee, let me think. This is Thomson, tail number N536FG and some tragically terrible mouth static?" Buck demanded, gesturing wildly.

The youngest woman with Tommy rescued his frozen yogurt just before Buck's hand made contact with it, and Buck caught her muffling a snort into her hand.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Tommy said slowly.

"And a really terrible Southern accent, I mean, I heard you practicing that with your friend Sophie last year—"

"…oh, this is him," the blonde murmured to the man she was standing with.

Buck bristled. "If you didn't want to get caught, maybe you shouldn't practice on an open emergency line!"

"Wait. Were you listening to the air traffic control channel?" Tommy asked, blinking.

"And another thing!" Buck steamrolled over the question, because the answer wasn't flattering to him and he still (maybe, sort of) had the upper hand in this encounter. "Does this look like New Orleans to you?"

"I mean…" Frozen Yogurt trailed off when they all looked over at her. "Depends which television shows film around here?"

"What the hell, Tommy! I thought you were dead! I tried to call you and it said your number was no longer in service."

Tommy shot a venomous look at his not-boyfriend. "You were just messing around with my phone, huh?"

"This is why you never let Hardison near your tech," Long Hair whistled under his breath, holding up his hands when Tommy turned his glare on him. "I think we'll let the two of you sort this out and we'll see you at dinner."

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is why we don't hang out more, Spence."

Spence laughed. "No, we don't hang out more because it's always classified." He clapped Buck on the shoulder. "Don't get too mad at the guy. When the Army calls, you have to answer. That's kind of the gig."

Buck waited until the other four had left before saying anything else. "Spence might be in the Army but—"

"—Eliot. Spence is a nickname," Tommy interjected.

"—but the other three definitely aren't," Buck finished, giving Tommy the stink eye at the interruption.

"Okay. Why do you think that?" The corner of Tommy's mouth ticked up in a brief smile and he nodded his head, conceding the point to Buck.

"I went through SEAL training. Army guys are… very distinctive."

Tommy snorted, his smile widening. "Sorry. Normally it's Spence saying that."

Buck shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at Tommy, trying to memorize the faint wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. They only showed up when he smiled. Buck had almost forgotten what they looked like.

Tommy seemed content to wait him out, looking back at him. Buck twitched when someone brushed past them, startling out the staring contest they'd accidentally found themselves in.

"Sorry your friend ran off with your frozen yogurt. Can I buy you a new one?"

"…Depends," Tommy said mock hesitantly. Buck would have been worried that Tommy was going to say no, but he was still smiling. "How many times are you going to tell me you thought I was dead?"

"At least five more times." Buck paused, poking Tommy in the middle of his chest. "I thought I was losing it."

Tommy took a step closer to Buck, their shoulders brushing when he turned back the way they'd come. "Sure. I'd love a new yogurt, but you're not allowed to make fun of the flavour."

"Why, what flavour is it?"