#idk what this is. spy stuff and black ops and whatnot.. 👥

[buckevantommy]

yay writing game! 2 + i + 𓆟 for bucktommy? 🫶🫶

“what they said back there. is it true?” + confusion + the war room of a military blacksite

"Tommy, h-hey—" He's putting distance between himself and the base. Buck's long stride has him catching up in no time but Tommy doesn't stop, won't even look at him, just keeps going like he can outpace his past if he walks fast enough. Buck doesn't think that's possible, and he'd know. "Tommy!"

As Tommy pulls up at the foot of an outcrop, Buck hangs back a step.

"What they said back there.." He almost doesn't want to ask. It doesn't make sense. But he needs to know, needs to hear it from Tommy. "Is it true?"

Even by the light of a crescent moon shrouded in cloud, he can see the small shake of Tommy's head. "That's not who I am." He says it to the night vista stretching out before them and to himself more than to Buck.

Buck hears what he's not saying, and it's a gut punch. "Tommy.."

Tommy's shoulders hunch. Buck can hear him trying to calm his harsh breaths in the still night air. "It wasn't my call," he says firmly, but his voice is smaller, retreating into the memory. Buck cautiously steps forward, keeping space between them but needing to see Tommy's face. Tommy stares resolutely ahead. "It was Gerrard's op. We were given direct orders, and we disobeyed. Sal, Eli and me— we tried to stop it." His breath stutters. The clouds part enough to illuminate the telling wetness of Tommy's eyes. "But we were too late. Waited too long." He swallows back the rest. Tears glisten down his cheeks.

Buck's heart clenches painfully. The unease in the pit of his stomach that had opened like a gaping maw back in the compound doesn't disappear entirely, but it shrinks so it doesn't feel like it's about to swallow him whole from the inside. He may not know everything but he knows enough, and the urge to comfort Tommy overcomes everything else.

He moves in near enough to take Tommy's fist between his hands, gently prying his fingers open so he can slot his own between them. Tommy doesn't resist, allowing Buck's touch, his proximity.

Finally, he looks at Buck: quiet devastation, guilt, and remorse written all over his face. It's a familiar sight Buck's seen in the mirror.

He squeezes Tommy's hand. Tommy's breath hitches as he squeezes back on a shaky exhale. Buck eliminates more space between them, tipping forward so their foreheads touch. They stand like that, together under a sky of veiled starlight in the middle of nowhere, breathing each other in.

As the minutes float by like the clouds above them, Tommy leans a little of his weight on Buck; physically, emotionally. Buck gladly takes it, and reaches up to grasp Tommy's neck, holding him close, and presses lingering soft kisses to the salty tear tracks on his cheeks.

Buck's got him. And he knows tommy: whatever crap Gerrard's cronies try to dredge up from the past or throw at them in the present, it won't be enough to stop them from trying. They're in this together, and they can't be beaten so easily.

doing this thing