When Buck pulls into his street he sees there's already a car in his driveway. There's no lights on, not in the car or in the house, and no movement that he can see. Still, with Eddie's recent sort-of-stalker trouble fresh in his mind, he makes sure to pull up Athena's number on his phone before he puts the truck into park and gets out, rounding the side of the parked vehicle to peer into the driver's side tinted window.
There's someone leaning against the glass.
"Please don't be dead," Buck mutters to himself, thumb hovering over the call button, and knocks on the window.
The figure inside jolts awake. There's some fumbling and Buck takes a weary step back, but then the window rolls down and it's--
"Tommy?"
Tommy blinks up at him a little groggy, a little wide-eyed in that way that always reminded Buck of some sort of large, surprised bird. "I missed your auction," he says, voice a little hoarse.
"What are you doing here?"
"I--" Tommy looks around, straightens in his seat. "What time is it?"
Buck watches him check his watch. "A weird time for you to be sitting in my driveway," he says slowly. "What, uh. What brings you here?" He hesitates, can't help but add, "Is everything OK?"
"It's, yeah. Hold on." Tommy frowns, rolls the window back up and for a second Buck finds himself convinced Tommy is just going to drive off. He doesn't, it wouldn't make sense, but it's been a weird day. Instead, Tommy opens the door slowly, careful not to bump into Buck. He unfolds himself from the car and Buck has half a mind to tease him for the old man sounds he makes as he does so.
"Sorry," Tommy says, now standing at an awkward distance. It's a little too close because Buck didn't actually move back when the door opened, but it's not close enough to feel natural between them, either. Tommy leans against the car a little, trying to find some distance, probably. Should Buck step back? He doesn't want to make Tommy feel boxed in, but stepping back feels... offensive, somehow?
"Whose car is that?" Buck asks, hoping to distract them both from their weird not-quite-proximity.
"It could be mine," Tommy says drily.
"It's not, though."
Tommy grins. "Sharp as always, Buckley. It's Lucy's. She drove me."
Buck leans a little to look around him into the otherwise very empty vehicle. "And then... disappeared?"
"She got tired of waiting." The awkwardness is back in the lines of Tommy's body, in the way he shifts his hand on the car door and fiddles with the keys. "A friend picked her up. Apparently he lives close by." He says it with a meaningful raise of his eyebrows, an invitation for gossip that Buck has gotten to know well. Has seen a lot of in his new knitting circle. He doesn't take the bait.
"And you were waiting for...?"
Tommy exhales. "I heard you broke another record."
Buck hums in agreement. His skin itches with the desire to push, to ask more, but it's been a long night, and he's not really sure what to say.
"I'm sorry I missed it. Supposedly your backflip is a sight to behold."
"I believe they call it the Buckflip, actually," Buck says, aware he's got a bitchy little eyebrow thing going and unable to do anything about it but grin when Tommy's eyebrows raise in turn.
"A named move, huh? Must really be impressive."
Buck ducks his head, laughs, gives a little shake. "Not really. I'm old and okay with it. The Buckflip can stay in the past where it belongs." When he looks back up, Tommy's expression has softened. There's just the tiniest little dip between his eyebrows.
"Sounds... introspective?" Tommy guesses, voice a little gentler.
"Yeah," Buck sighs, straightens. "Been a lot of that going on, actually. I almost had a threesome."
The surprises bird face is back. "Oh."
"Yeah," Buck barrels forward, "And I just got back from a five way date, so," he takes a step towards his front door, suddenly unable to take the awkward what-are-we distance any longer, "I'm pretty exhausted."
"Oh," Tommy says again. "Right." He clears his throat. "I should--"
"They, uh, they taught me how to knit," Buck cuts him off. "My dates," he clarifies.
"...oh?" It's kind of impressive how Tommy managed to make every single one of those ohs convey an entirely different emotion. How the confusion is plain to read in his tone and his face, like the curveballs Buck has thrown at him have cracked him open. It's familiar. It makes Buck feel stupidly fond.
"Yeah," he says. "I'm getting pretty decent at it, I think." He jingles his house keys as casually as he can manage. "I could teach you, if you want to come in?"
He turns, feeling a little winded, to walk up the path to his front door.
Behind him he hears a car door slam. Then the footsteps of someone jogging just a little to catch up.
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