Chapter Text
November 2020
When Tommy shook his hand, it was never just a handshake. He lingered, and Buck wanted to avert his gaze, to check for watching eyes. There was no point, of course. Eyes were always watching. Thomas Alexander Kinard was the Governor of California, now the Democratic Presidential candidate, so, naturally, there would always be eyes watching. They stood at an appropriate distance, never close enough to raise suspicion. Buck did his job as campaign manager and he did it brilliantly, and the fruits of his labor were evident tonight. They stood in a crowded, buzzing room waiting for the Associated Press to call the General Election results, the tension was prickling, hanging heavy in every corner of the room Buck tried to hide in. In a split second, Tommy caught wind of Buck’s nerves and he did the thing, that vexing thing where he shook his hand, and just then, ever so subtly slid his finger under the hem of Buck’s shirt sleeve, under his cufflink and pressed on his pulsepoint. It said, without needing to utter words: I’m here, I know they’re watching, I’ve got you. Buck pulled his hand away politely as the Governor’s wife approached, leaning in close to her husband before beaming up at Buck, strawberry blonde blaze of hair pinned artfully at the nape of her neck. She was poised, elegant, and everything the future First Lady of The United States should be. She draped a hand over Tommy’s shoulder, wedding ring gleaming, blinding Buck. A rancid reminder that Tommy belonged to her, not to him.
“Buck! I’m so glad to catch you before chaos ensues, I hope you’re proud of yourself, D.C. won’t know what hit them. You were formidable. Now, why isn't there a glass in your hand? We must celebrate!” She raised her own glass to her lips and took a long sip before pressing a gentle kiss to Tommy’s cheek, Tommy who’s gaze had not strayed from Buck’s.
“Abby, let’s not count our chickens before they hatch. The race hasn’t been called.” Tommy quipped before pulling his wife in by the waist.
“Oh, don’t give me that! You have won this election, honey. You’ll be the youngest man ever elected into office; you’re going to make history tonight! And it’s all thanks to you, Buck.”
“I can’t possibly take all the credit Mrs. Kinard, this was a valiant team effort. We’ve all poured everything into this campaign, and I’m proud of the work we’ve done. You two belong in that White House.”
“Oh please, Buck, when are you going to drop the pleasantries, call me Abby, please. We’re family now.” There wasn’t a face Buck couldn’t read, but he faltered when he met Abby’s eyes, her gaze was indiscernible behind her glasses, Buck almost swore he caught a twitch of eyelid. He looked away and feigned a polite chuckle before Tommy spoke again.
“Evan, whatever happens tonight, I want to thank you. Your tenacity, your commitment to this campaign has not gone unnoticed. Abby’s right, if I lose this election, it'll be because of me. But if I win, it’ll be because of you. You really are something, kid.”
Buck's heart did a flip.
“Well, I’ll let you two have a moment. Good luck, Governor.” He then nodded curtly in Abby’s direction. “Abby.” He mumbled softly before darting off, trying to spy the closest empty room he could find. He needed quiet.
***
Minutes felt like hours in that stuffy coat room. The election would be called in less than an hour, any minute now really. Buck thought it would feel like a relief. He did his part, the rest was up to the people now. He really thought it would be a relief, instead he had this nagging feeling, a pit in his stomach. After today his job was over, and he wouldn’t see him anymore. It was for the best.
Buck startled at the sound of the door opening and shutting again quickly. His eyes widened at the sight of Tommy.
“What are you doing here! Everyone will be looking for you.”
Tommy just smiled, that smug smile of his. “Relax, Evan, nobody’s looking for me.”
“Your wife will be looking for you.”
“When has that ever stopped me from finding you.” Tommy smirks, and there’s that look in those blue eyes of his, a look that’s really a challenge, an invitation that made Buck want to charge.
“We shouldn’t, not tonight.” Buck says out loud, mostly to himself.
Tommy just stares, leaning against a coat rack. “Okay, Evan, whatever you say.”
It shouldn't make Buck’s heart flutter, not after the past year, but it does. He folds, rushing to close the space between them, pushing Tommy against the lines of coats, but there’s nothing to cling to, so they fall to the floor, and the loud clattering of the neighboring coat rack should be enough to make them split apart, straighten their clothes and walk out of the room, but they don’t. Instead, Tommy giggles against Buck’s lips, a sound so rare that Buck has no choice but to follow suit. They kiss with fervor, in between quiet laughter, letting their mouths do all the work. They’re careful not to raise hands to hair, careful not to tousle too much, trying not to wrinkle clothing. It’s a devastating dance, but one they know all the steps to. This is how it has to be when eyes are watching, and there’s always eyes watching.
Buck is brought back to reality at the reminder, his thoughts always protecting him. He raises himself over Tommy, propping himself on his hands. The older man only stares up at him, lips flushed.
“Tommy… you know this has to end. After tonight, it has to end.”
“I know.”
“It should have never started.”
“I know, Evan.”
“You’re going to be the President of the United States.”
“Ev-”
“I have something for you.” Buck whispered as he sat up, and waited for Tommy to rise next to him.
Buck reached into his ticket pocket, pulling out the metal lapel pin with a slight tremble of his hand.
Tommy 's eyes narrowed in, noting the sharp edges of the pilots' aviation wings Buck held in his hand. “What’s that?”
“Heard of Chuck Yeager? You know the first guy to break the sound barrier?”
Tommy chuckled. “Yes Evan, I know Chuck Yaegar, I was a decorated pilot in The Army.”
“Well, this belonged to him. I… I bought it on auction when… well, when I realized you were winning this thing.”
“Oh, sweetheart…”
“Just wait, let me do this.” Buck took the pin, it couldn't weigh more than a couple of coins, but it felt heavy with longing between his fingers as he fastened it to Tommy’s lapel.
“After tonight, you’ll be president. I know, because I’m the best. Your team, your wife hired me because I’m the best, and I pruned and fluffed and now, well look at you. You’re… going to make history.”
“Evan, what are you-”
“Let me finish.” Buck cut off, still running a finger against the polished metal fresh on Tommy’s suit as he sighed. “You’ll be grounded. I realized that a while ago, you’ll be president and presidents can’t fly their own aircrafts.” He smirked. “Anyway, just… I know what that means to you, they’ll fly you around, and you’ll hate it. I know you’re giving up the sky. I know what you’re sacrificing. So just, when you’re there, on the ground, in front of a hundred cameras, speaking to the world, missing the sky, just touch the wings, and I’ll be watching and I’ll know… I'll know that what we’ve both sacrificed was worth it.”
“Evan, I don’t want to give you up. I can’t.”
“Tommy…”
“Join me in the White House, be my Chief of Staff.” Tommy looked into Buck’s crystal blue eyes with the earnestness of a Goddamned schoolboy, and Buck felt like screaming.
“You know that can’t happen.”
“Why not, you know you’re made for it. Just say the word and it’s yours. Put that fancy law degree to good use.”
Buck could sense Tommy’s grin from the corner of his eye. “You’re not as funny as you think you are Tommy. You’ll have to work on that, people love a funny president. I’ll have to send your people a memo.”
“Be my Chief of Staff.”
Buck felt the heat rise to his face. “Tommy it’s a fucking pipe dream. Let it go, let me go, please. It’s killing me. I won’t play in that house with you, I’m not your personal Ken Doll. Let it die.”
“I won’t give you up Evan.”
“Yeah, next you’ll tell me you’ll leave her? You’ll leave her and what? We’ll be what Tommy? You’ll be what? The first gay president, and we’ll ride off into the sunset together?”
Tommy tensed. “Don’t do that, you’re mean when you’re angry.”
“Well I have nothing else to be but mean and angry. This is all we have, this is what you turned us into. It should have ended after the first time you kissed me.” Buck’s lip trembled in spite of his ire.
Tommy's face twisted. “I don’t regret it, I’ll never regret you. It’s always going to be you Evan, if you believe anything I say, believe that.”
That’s when they heard the eruption of cheers, loud even through the walls and the first tear fell down Buck’s cheek.
“Congratulations, Mr. President, I suggest you go celebrate with your wife and call your son.”
Buck snuck out of the room in a flash, tears flooded his vision and he ran, leaving Tommy wasn’t new, this was just the latest, and Buck told himself, the last time.
***
July 2023 - Present Day
It was a quiet week on the scandal front. He hated to admit it, but there were only so many senator sex affairs he could diffuse for the media before the stories got old. He had a formula by now. Eddie and Ravi did the dirt digging, Lena would apply pressure, and Buck would swoop in and deliver final strongly worded blows, soon enough the blackmailers, the extortionists would fold. Buck found himself almost… bored. A revolving door of character assassination, he could handle. But this, the boredom. God, the boredom settled in his bones like lead.
But, he had a routine. There was this bench, by Capitol Hill, where every Sunday he met up with the D.C. Fire Chief, Bobby Nash. Years back, Buck had saved his reputation, and by extension the promotion he had on the line when Bobby’s secret, his past, was threatened. Naturally, Buck had come in, cleaned up the situation, and made the problem disappear. Suddenly, the devastating accident that killed 148 people, the fire that Bobby was technically responsible for, had become just that, an accident. A terrible accident that had left Bobby a widower and childless. A firefighter’s story of redemption. Bobby kept his job and reputation. It’s what Buck did best. Spin a story. Make problems go away. Except that was just it, Buck could make news stories dissipate, he could hush the press. But, with matters of the heart, he couldn't make those disappear. Bobby was a lonely man, and so was Buck. So, they’d struck up a strange relationship, almost… almost father-and-son-like. Bobby had this journal, where he kept track of all the people he saved, a life saved for a life taken. Buck could understand that. He had taken a page out of Bobby’s book in a way, and started a tally of his own. An innocent reputation saved for every reputation destroyed.
Buck looked forward to his meetings with Bobby, sometimes an hour a week on that bench felt like the only constant in his life. Bobby’s containers of home cooked meals kept him afloat some weeks. His kind words were gospel, a solace in the city of vipers. So, just like the week before, Buck returned Bobby’s washed containers and took the freshly packed bag of food and made his way back to his apartment.
Even on the sunny D.C. afternoon, his loft felt cold. Like everything else in his life it was sterile, cold, but collected. He’d just neatly stored away the takeout containers when he heard the knocks.
Three quick knocks, followed by two slower ones. It was them.
He rolled his eyes at the sight of Tommy’s secret service detail once he answered the door.
“Hen. Howie.”
“Buck.” They stated in tandem.
“I don’t want to see him.”
“I’m afraid, you still have to come with us.” Replied Hen, flatly.
“Or what, you’ll tie me up and take me to him against my will?”
“We’d much rather you just come willingly, Buck. It’s the same dance every time, you always get in the car.” Muttered Howie, low and grating.
Buck crossed his arms, petulantly.
“I’m not going.”
“That’s not an option this time, The President has requested your presence. We’re here to take you to him.” Said Hen, her tone remained even.
Buck pulled out his phone. Not his regular phone, the other phone. The secure burner with one number saved. He selected it to call. Tommy didn't answer. That was deliberate.
“I haven’t heard from him in a month. I’m sure whatever The President wants to discuss can be settled with a phone call.” Huffed Buck.
“I’ll repeat myself, he has requested your presence, we’re here to take you to him.”
Buck almost laughed. “He’s mad. He’s angry isn't he? He’s kidnapping me out of spite?”
“It’s not kidnapping if you get in the car willingly, Buck, so come with us.” Muttered Howie.
“Or you’ll force me? Ergo, kidnapping?”
“Like I said, you always get in the car.” Reiterated Howie, irritatingly perky as ever.
***
June 2023 - One Month Prior
Buck huffed out in tandem with the loud thwack of his laptop slamming shut. Goddammit. It seemed, to Buck, that nobody in this town had any composure, no decorum. He sighed, and stood to pour himself a glass of wine. He was going to need it. He pulled out his phone and dialed Eddie, who picked up almost immediately.
“What is it now?” Groaned Eddie.
“I need you and Ravi to pull anything you can on Congresswoman Ortiz and her son, the eldest. Tail the son, I need to know where he goes, who he’s seeing, you know, the works.” Buck laid out the details, lazily.
“I thought you said you weren't going to bother us past 9pm anymore Buck.”
“Her son was just photographed in a strip club backroom snorting more cocaine than mommy approves of, we need to find out who’s blackmailing her, and get to them before they leak the photos. Not our first rodeo, should be a quick turn around.”
“I’m not working past 9pm anymore Buck, I already told you. There aren't fair working conditions. No more calling past 9pm or I quit.”
Buck felt like smashing his phone. “Fine, whatever. I want you both, at the office bright and early, we have work to do.”
“What about Lena? She is exempt from showing up to work or what?”
“I have Lena on… another assignment, just let it be for now.”
“You’re obsessed, it’s kind of embarrassing.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Eddie.”
“Pimping Lena out to get in with Donato? You think that’ll get you privy to your president's dirty little secrets? You think we don't talk to each other, Buck? It’s a new low, even for you.”
“He’s not my- Nevermind. If you think the president's Chief of Staff is going to let herself be swayed by Lena Bosko… God, Eddie I’m not even going to entertain this. You don’t know what you’re talking about, so just show up tomorrow. Like I said, we have work to do.”
Buck tried to pretend he didn't hear Eddie’s chuckle on the other end of the line. He tried to pretend it didn't sting. Buck knew what he probably looked like, ridiculous, desperate. But he was spinning out. Lucy was icing him out, and Tommy, well. Tommy was radio silent these days. It wasn’t a surprise. Once the photos came out, there was no use stopping the story.
D.C’s resident PR crisis manager Evan Buckley, spotted getting cozy with White House Press Secretary Taylor Kelly, and the sound of a hundred shattered hearts was heard across the District. Has the longtime eligible bachelor, who’s otherwise been known to cling to his briefcase, finally found his match?
Buck winced as he recalled the news clipping. Taylor… Taylor had just happened. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t deliberate. It just… it just happened. So what if she happened to work at the White House? Buck was in the business of putting out fires, so was she, they could understand each other. She’d caught him sneaking out of the Oval Office, flushed and disheveled and turned a blind eye. They could understand each other and it didn’t hurt anybody if the sex was good. It didn’t hurt that Taylor made him laugh. It didn’t hurt that Taylor had access to the in’s and out’s of the White House’s and The President's schedule. Buck was single, she was single. Buck didn’t belong to anybody. He did. He belonged to Abby, he wasn’t Buck’s to have. Tommy was grieving, his wife was grieving. Tommy wasn’t really Tommy anymore, hadn’t been for months, not since… the incident . Lucy had stopped meeting Buck for coffee, and just like that Buck’s access to White House was severed. All he was left with that God forsaken phone, and Tommy’s sporadic, pathetic, fucking painful phone calls. Maybe Buck couldn't do it anymore, maybe he was forgetting the steps to their dance.
***
July 2023 - Present Day
Buck sat at the back of the landed helicopter. He’d thrown off the noise cancelling headset and safety restraints all in one haphazard go. He didn't have to turn to know it was him opening the door.
“Get out, Evan.”
Buck pursed his lips, trying to stop his arms from crossing but they crossed anyway.
“No. Whatever you have to say, say it here and then you’re sending me back home.”
“Get out of the helicopter, Evan.”
“No, and I don’t appreciate getting kidnapped. You could have just called.”
“Get out the Goddamn chopper, Evan!” This was new, the shouting, they never used to do this, and now this is what they had become, a spectacle. When Tommy raised his voice, it sent goosebumps across Buck’s skin, he wished it didn’t. God he was sick.
The way Tommy crowded his space, not quite in his ear but close, sent a shiver up his spine. Tommy turned to start walking then, in that way where he knew Buck would follow, and fuck he resented that. It made him want to cement himself into the seat of this damn bird, it made Buck want to stay seated until he calcified. But he got up, and followed Tommy up the trail.
“Where are we?” Buck called from behind.
“Not in D.C.” Muttered Tommy as he closed the distance between them, bringing a coat over Buck’s shoulders. “Here, put on a jacket, it's cold.” Tommy’s voice was low, barely above a whisper and he slipped Buck into the jacket, doing up the buttons, one by one and painfully slow. By the time he neared the buttons at the collar, Buck shoved out of Tommy’s reach.
“Why did you bring me here, aren’t you supposed to be on a hunting trip.”
“Hmm, still keeping track of my schedule, Evan?”
“Why did you bring me here?” Buck barked at Tommy.
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“What?”
“Taylor Kelly, are you sleeping with her?” Tommy’s voice wavered, his brows furrowed as he circled Buck like a shark.
Buck’s breath caught. “What’s it to you?”
Tommy chuckled humorlessly. “You managed to get yourself splattered all over the news front page, messy. It’s not like you. I didn’t think you wanted the whole town privy to your love life, and my Press Secretary, really, Evan? You just have to infiltrate everywhere you can, is that your new thing?”
“Your Press Secretary, she belongs to you now? Nice one, Mr. President, it’s nice to know you think you own us all.”
“Don’t do that.” Tommy’s jaw clenched, and he closed in. His hand gripped on the small of Buck’s back. No matter how many times they did this, it still felt strange, Hen and Howie standing a mere feet away and armed, turning their backs to them in a familiar gesture, giving them a false sense of privacy.
Buck's jaw clicked, and his irritation flared. He turned up to Tommy. “How’s your wife?” He snarled.
“You leave her out of this, none of this is her fault. She’s grieving, I’m grieving.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed, the angles of cheeks were sharper, he had circles under his eyes that didn’t used to be as dark and Buck swore the flurry of greys at his temple had widened. He wasn’t well.
Buck twisted out of Tommy’s grip, spitting out as much poison as he could muster, it felt wrong, he didn't care. “The optics aren’t good, I know you see what the news is saying, they’re saying she’s a shell of a person, she doesn’t smile in appearances, and she’s been photographed with a drink in her hand more often than not, you need to get your people on that, you two don’t look united, the press will start to talk, they’ll say your marriage has gone cold.”
“Evan, you don’t work for me anymore. My wife isn't your personal project to fix. The media isn't my concern, I have Taylor for that.”
“I’m trying to help you, that’s the only reason you call me these days right? When you need me to clean up a mess your people made?”
Buck barely registered the thump of tree bark against his back before Tommy’s lips were on his. Buck gasped against Tommy’s mouth, gasped again when Tommy lifted him against his body, Buck worked to hook his leg around Tommy’s hip, pulling him closer, closer as he gripped his hands across Tommy’s broad shoulders. Buck couldn't fight the moan at the feeling of Tommy’s tongue on his neck. Buck realized then what The President was trying to do and he huffed out. “No marks.” No marks, no evidence, no trace that you were ever there.
Tommy groaned in response, and pulled him for another bruising kiss. Buck’s tongue traced a sharp line along the roof of Tommy’s mouth, earning him a sharp gasp from the older man. Shit. They shouldn’t be doing this, they had sworn it would stop. It had to fucking stop.
“Let me go, put me down.” Buck panted as he tried to find his footing. Tommy’s hands left his body and the stark emptiness Buck felt as the loss of his touch felt like whiplash, but he darted off anyway, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.
“Evan, what are you doing?”
Buck had his hands to his temples, eyes shut tightly as he tried to steady the flow of tears that were involuntarily streaming down his eyes.
“Evan, turn around, talk to me.”
“I am not yours. I don’t belong to you! You cannot steal me away to God knows where, you can’t just have me whenever you want. I am not a toy you can summon and play with when you’re sad and lonely. You promised me it was over. We are over. We cannot do this anymore. You need to go home, stand by your wife, fix your marriage, or you’ll have no chance of reelection. You two suffered a tragedy, and I’m… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. But this, us. It’s not…”
“Evan, stay the weekend. Stay here with me, please.”
Buck laughed out loud, tears still streaming. “God, you’re certifiable, I can't believe they trust you with the nuclear codes.”
“I mean it.”
“Tommy, they tried to kill you. What part of that never clicked? You cannot keep taking risks, we are a risk. We are done.”
“You left me.”
“What?” Buck sneered, incredulously.
“They tried to kill me, they took my son from me, Teddy’s gone, and you just left. You left me alone.”
“That is not fair. I have a life outside of you, a business to run, people to help. It was not my place to hold you while you grieve, you’re supposed to be that for your wife. I am not the cure to your ailments, your medicine, your special nurse… I left for the greater good. I left you to your wife!” Buck yelled then, his cup finally overflowing.
“Stop saying that like it means anything, my marriage is over, it’s been over, it was never real, and she’s… she’s catatonic Evan. I’ve... I’ve tried everything. She’ll never recover from this and I don’t expect her to, our marriage isn't real so why are we having this argument again, Ev?”
“Because you’ve made us this… this lie. I can’t live a lie anymore, Thomas. I can’t live for stolen weekends when Abby is away, secret fucks in coat closets, hoping we don’t get caught, it's your kink right? That's why we’re still playing this game?”
“Baby…”
“I can’t even kiss you without G.I. Joe one and two over there knowing all our dirty secrets, they’re practically my best friends by now you know? All the fun little talks we have in the limo when you kidnap me for our little trysts.”
“You’re being petty.”
“I hate what I've become because of you. I hate it. Three years of it. I'm tired. I’m done. We are done. For real this time. Take me home.”
“Not until we talk.”
“We did talk, nice chat Mr. President, thanks for the beautiful mountain views, I’ll leave a review. Take me home.”
“Ever the fucking brat.”
“Take. Me. Home.”
Buck knew how he looked. Foot stomping, eyes red and streaky. He didn’t care. It was worth it, to see grief strike Tommy’s face, watching Tommy grapple with the loss of them. All he was these days was fucking loss.
“I hope she makes you happy, Evan, I hope she makes all your dreams come true, I hope you two have fun when you’re discussing my calendar.”
“Fuck you.”
“Howard, Henrietta, take him home.”