Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

ACT I: I'VE GOT OPTION THREE FOR YOU

It starts because Buck gets a call from LAFD’s Central Office asking him about his availability to meet with Chief Simpson that day. For the life of him, Buck can't guess what it's about--unless he's finally getting his dressing down for being so rude to Government officials. When he tries to tell the others about it, they're too busy keeping busy in the firehouse to pay attention. The only one who he can catch is Ravi, who simply says that maybe since Hen turned down the Captaincy, Buck's name is next on the list. 

Buck scoffs at that, shaking his eyes at Ravi. 

“Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure Chief Simpson would rather transfer me out of L.A. than make me a Captain.” 

Ravi shrugs and tells him ‘you never know’ before heading for the showers. The last minutes of their shift are winding down, almost all of B-Shift having arrived, so Buck follows. He figures being showered will at least make for a better impression. 

Twenty minutes later he's saying goodbye to everyone and slipping into his truck, plugging in the address for Central Office and trying his best not to feel too nervous. He sees a few texts come into the 118 group chat, and he thinks once more about telling the others where he's been summoned, but a twisting in his gut stops him. He starts the truck and pulls out of the lot. 

L.A. traffic is L.A. traffic, so it's almost an hour before he arrives and another fifteen getting clearance to head into the building and up to the floor the Chief's office is on. When he arrives it seems to be calm, the administrative assistant greets him kindly and asks him to sit and wait for the Chief. 

He doesn't have to wait long, it's a few minutes later when the office's large door opens and the Chief comes into view. He gazes at Buck, unreadable, before calling him in. 

Buck can't help but feel anxious, his shoulders pulling in towards himself as he sits. He picks at a loose thread on his jeans and wishes he was in nicer clothes than the ones he had stashed in his locker. 

“Firefighter Buckley,” the Chief starts, his deep voice smooth and not nearly as harsh as Buck feared it would be. “I hope that you're doing alright, all things considered.” 

Buck nods before realizing he should answer verbally. 

“Y-yes, uh, sir. Thank you for asking. We're all doing as best as we can be.” 

The Chief hums in response, and reaches over to grab a thin stack of papers on the left side of his desk. 

“Good,” he responds, before sighing slightly, “I promise I didn't call you here for small talk. Normally, something like this would have been a conversation between you and your captain. Though you currently have a captain, I felt compelled to speak with you myself.” 

Buck sits up a little straighter at that and tries to get a look at the papers. They don't seem like termination forms, but Buck can't be sure. He swallows thickly. 

“Shortly before his death, Captain Nash put your name forward for a new initiative through a branch of Cal Poly that specializes in Applied Fire Science and Management. They're hoping to provide an accelerated Bachelor's degree program for active firefighters in wildfire prone areas. Following the devastation our state faced this year, they reached out to the LAFD for qualified candidates.” 

The Chief slides the papers forward and turns them to face Buck. His eyes catch on the first line, Dear Evan Buckley, as the Chief continues speaking. 

“You were chosen as part of the inaugural cohort.” 

Buck is quiet for too long, feeling like his head is full of static. The Chief clears his throat and begins detailing more about the program. 

“You would be considered as on a sabbatical of sorts with the LAFD, unpaid but with your benefits intact as long as you remain in the program. The LAFD is providing a $5,000 yearly scholarship, though the remainder of the program's cost would be your responsibility. When you graduate from the program you will be short-listed for any open Lieutenant or below positions within the department. Finally, you will be cross-trained in wildfire crisis management, and for five years following graduation you may be called to serve in an incident command capacity with the U.S. Forestry service.” 

Buck lets the information wash over him, cataloging it distantly, though his eyes have fallen to one line in the letter before him. 

Recommendations provided by LAFD Captains Robert Nash and Joseph Andrews, LAFD Training Academy Instructors Julia Qu and Anthony Varchetto, and LAFD Fire Chief Jonathan Simpson, along with your certification scores and service record, put you well above many candidates considered for this program. 

“All of these...all of these people recommended me? You did, sir?” Buck asked, realizing belatedly that he was likely showing a bit too much vulnerability in front of a man who he was sure hated him an hour ago. 

Surprisingly, when Buck looks up at him, the Chief looks kinder than he had ever seen. 

“Son,” he begins, voice steady, “it didn't take much convincing. Though you have had your ups and downs with the department, it's clear that you care about the work you do. If we are to continue serving this great City, State, and Nation, we must put our best and most dedicated forward to learn things that will help us battle the new landscapes we face year after year.” 

Buck blinks, not sure what to say, but clears his throat and tries anyway. 

“Thank you, sir. Really. This is...an incredible opportunity. Can I-can I think about it? And get back to you in a few days?” 

The Chief nods and re-adjusts his posture, back to business. 

“Of course. I expect a call by this time next week--or I will be calling you. I truly hope you give this serious consideration, firefighter. Not only will this allow you to move upward in your career, but it will allow you to represent the LAFD within the program.” 

Buck nods and hurries to gather up all of the papers, the letter and the ones he hasn't even had the chance to look at yet, and propels himself up out of the chair. He does his best to look capable and put together before addressing the Chief with finality.

“Thank you, sir. I promise to think it through and let you know sooner than a week's time.” 

The Chief stands up and reaches a hand out to shake Buck's. “Good, I look forward to it. Goodbye, Firefighter Buckley.”

Buck lets go of the handshake and turns and leaves the office. He thanks the administrative assistant who wishes him a good afternoon, and he rides the elevator back down to the parking garage. 

Miraculously, he makes it all the way to his car before he's hit with an overwhelming mix of emotion that threatens to knock him down completely. He scrambles into the front seat and slams the door, his ears ringing in the silence. 

“Bobby...” he says to himself, feeling like his lungs won't inflate all the way, “what did you do?” 

He doesn't want to go home, he needs more information. He pulls out his phone and pauses when he sees more texts in the 118 group chat--the most recent are a series of pictures of Eddie and Chris, surrounded by boxes. A message accompanies it. 

Turns out Chris has been missing the L.A. scene too much. We'll be back for good this month! 

Buck feels his eyes burning and he lets out a shaky breath. His phone starts buzzing with incoming congratulations directed toward Eddie's announcement. He gives the message a thumbs up and swipes out of the conversation, pulling up another. He shoots off a quick text and sighs in relief when the response comes less than a minute later. 

He sets the stack of papers down on the passenger seat and gets ready to drive. 

Buck clutches the letter in one hand tightly while the other knocks on Athena's door. Harry is the one that answers, giving Buck a smile and an easy greeting. He directs Buck toward the kitchen, where Athena is parsing through documents on the island and sipping coffee. 

“Uh, hey Athena.” He calls, and she turns to look at him smoothly, tilting her head toward another mug where it's waiting across from her. He walks over and takes it, setting the letter down between them. Athena sees it, the letterhead stark against the white paper. She hums and stands up straight, reaching for it. 

“He was about to tell you, you know,” She says, a small and sad smile on her face, “he just wanted to wait until he found out if Eddie was coming back or not.” 

“He is.” Buck says, flat.

“Yes, he is,” she says, looking him in the eye calmly. “And Bobby knew you. Knew you would give up any progress you made, knew you would do what you had to do to keep your family together.” 

Buck swallows thickly, raising the mug back to his lips and letting his gaze fall from Athena. He doesn't say anything and she sighs. 

“Bobby came up with this,” she says, tapping a finger against the letter, “to try and help you. He really believed in you, Buck.” 

“He was going to tell me to leave the 118?” Buck says, not ready to really think through the compliment it really was. 

Unsurprisingly, Athena sees right through him and rolls her eyes. 

“You know that's not the point,” she says, and then mumbles more so to herself than to him, “Lord, he said this would be a fight, he just didn't say I would be the one fighting it.” 

Buck feels mortified and guilty, and he's quick to apologize. 

“I'm s-sorry, Athena, I'm not trying to be difficult, or, or make this about me, I'm just trying to understand--” 

“Buck, this is about you. Bobby cared so much about you and saw the potential you have. That is why he put your name forward for this program.”

“Oh.” Buck says, “but--” 

“But nothing, Buckley,” Athena stops him with a firm tone and a look, “anyone with eyes or ears knew how much Bobby believed in you. He knew that if you stay at the 118 forever you're never going to get where you should be.” 

“Athena, this program is a serious step toward being and lieutenant or captain some day. Bobby thought I wasn't ready.” 

“Years ago, sure. But he saw you grow, saw you mature,” Athena leans across the counter and places and hand over Buck's, “and so have I. You're not the stupid kid that stole a firetruck anymore. Bobby knew that. He wouldn't have done this if he didn’t.” 

Buck takes a shaky breath in and has to blink a few times to clear his vision. 

“Okay,” Buck says, can't think of anything else to say except, “this is great, but I can't even afford it. I'm about to be homeless, and I can't just not work for a few years.” 

Athena draws her hand back and stands up straight, humming. 

“About that,” she tells him, “wait here for a moment.” 

She leaves the kitchen for a few minutes and Buck takes the moment alone to compose himself. His fingertips edge along the letter and feels a pang of sadness when he thinks about having to turn down something Bobby wanted for him. 

Athena returns with a thick envelope, “BUCK” written in Bobby's blocky handwriting on the front. She sets it down in front of him when she comes to a stop at his side. He looks at her in confusion, but she just nods toward the envelope. 

It's quick work to open it and when he reaches inside there's a stack of papers and smaller envelope that he slides out. 

He starts with the envelope, knowing what it must be before he opens it. He feels emotion slam through him as he reads the handwritten note inside.

Buck, 

   I'm hoping I'll get to convince you of this while I’m alive, but I would be a hypocrite each time I tell you all to have your affairs in order as much as possible if I didn't write this down. If you're reading this and I'm gone, I'm sorry I left you, kid. I wanted to see you become the man and the firefighter I know you'll be someday--but even if I'm not there to see it, you can't stop growing just because I died. I hope this helps you keep moving in that direction. 

In the event that Eddie comes back to L.A., like I strongly suspect he will, and you're suddenly faced with the reality that you'll have to choose between advocating for him or Ravi to stay on A-Shift, I've got option three for you. I submitted you for the Applied Fire Science and Management program at Cal Poly Humboldt in Arcata--they put out a call to L.A.’s captains after this year's wildfires, and I knew immediately that I was going to choose you. Even if Eddie doesn't come back, I think you should give this a try. I know you tried college once and it didn't work for you, but I think you might like this a bit more. 

I know your concerns, and I've already figured them out for you. There are plenty of apartments near the school to rent, and they're going to be a hell of a lot cheaper than your loft was. I called three houses and talked to their Captains, and any of them are happy to hire you part time, just tell them your name. Of course that is if the Forestry Service basecamp there doesn't get to you first. 

And I know college is expensive. Getting into the program comes with a scholarship, but it's not enough to cover the whole thing. Which is why I've transferred the college funds for my kids to you. Please don't feel guilty accepting it--I've let the money sit and collect and felt guilty over it for long enough. Don't worry about May and Harry, Michael and Athena already had funds for them. And don't think that it would be better for Christopher or Jee-Yun or Denny or anyone else. Go, do this, become a Captain, and help them on your own some day. 

You can do this, Buck. I know you can. There is so much out there waiting for you, and you have potential beyond any of us. I know it's going to be hard to leave the 118, but sometimes you have to in order to grow. 

Make me proud. 

I love you kid, 

Bobby 

A tear falls on to the paper and Buck scrambles to dry it as quickly as he can, then shoves his wrist across his eyes to stop any more from escaping. 

He takes a deep breath, knows it's more like a gasp. Athena just gently rests a hand against his back. 

“Bobby told me once about Buck one-point-oh and two-point-oh and so on,” Athena says, more gentle than he probably deserves, “he said that he wished one day you would just see yourself as you are, as you could be. No versions or the need to reinvent yourself. Evan Buckley could be out there waiting for you--you've got to go find him now.”

Buck nods, feels another tear roll down his cheek. He laughs a little and looks at her. 

“All these years, everyone’s told me to stop being so rash. But if I’m not rash right now, I’ll never find him.” 

Athena just smiles softly. 

He swipes a hand across his face and uses the other to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“Okay, I’ve got to make a call. Can you--can you be here for it?” 

Athena nods, and Buck thanks her quietly. She moves back around the island and picks up her coffee once again. Buck hits ‘call’, and when it connects, he speaks confidently. 

“Hello, this is Evan Buckley. Uh, again. Can I speak with Chief Simpson?” 

In the next two weeks, Buck packs. He boxes everything up, calls the moving company, and drops the keys to Eddie’s house off with Pepa. She looks pained when he does it, but she doesn't try to stop him, and she agrees not to say anything. He goes to work, he spends time with Maddie and Jee, he has dinner with the Grants. Every day he has to remind himself that he’s doing the right thing for himself. He tells Athena his plan, and while he can tell she doesn’t like it, she doesn’t try to change his mind, she just asks for a few things in return for her secret keeping. 

The day that Eddie is set to arrive in L.A. ahead of Christopher, Buck goes to work as planned, only Gerrard knowing that it's his last shift. He arrived early and slipped everything from his locker into his duffle. He asks Ravi to come up to the roof when he arrives, and he apologizes. Ravi just nods and tells Buck that he gets it; that he’s happy to see Buck doing something for himself. He doesn’t push for information or ask where Buck is going, and Buck feels then more than ever just how much he took Ravi for granted. 

Buck doesn’t try to think of it as his last day in the 118 but it dogs him the entire day anyway. They help with a five car pile up and Buck tries not to freeze up completely when Chimney tries to get him to join in on a conversation on whether or not Buck has still been emailing the city about the busted stop sign a few streets away from the firehouse. Buck feigns needing to run to the bathroom when Hen asks him if he thinks they should get back to cooking for everyone, soon. When Gerrard is announcing the chore rotation for the next week, he almost falters and leaves Buck off of it. He must see Buck’s worried face, remembers Buck firmly asking that he keep it quiet until the end of the day, and quickly tacks on “...and Buckley, you’re on tool maintenance.” 

They're finally wrapping up the shift when Eddie pulls into the lot, tray of coffees in hand and a smile on his face. Buck takes his coffee, smiles back. He feels like he's shaking out of his body. He takes advantage of everyone's distraction to grab his bag, trying to look like he's just eager to go, trying to play it cool. He creeps toward the garage doors.

Gerrard comes down the steps then and spots Eddie. He checks his watch, and his eyes slip to Buck. Buck nods. 

"Diaz," He calls, walking up to him with hands on his hips, "I heard you're coming back to L.A."

"Yes, sir," Eddie says, tone curt but professional, "My son and I will be back fully within the next two weeks."

"Wonderful. Because I need a firefighter. Your old shift schedule work for you?"

Buck sees Eddie's head tilt, notices Chimney's confused eyebrows, watches Hen's mouth open to correct. Ravi's eyes skitter to Buck's, and Buck can't help but give him a sad smile and a shrug. Buck inches backward. He sees a familiar truck pull up to the doors out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry, sir," Eddie says with a slight chuckle, "I don't understand what you mean. Ravi--are you going back to B-Shift?"

Ravi shakes his head, and Buck feels a little bad about putting him in that position. He should make a break for it now, but he can't let himself leave when Ravi's eyes are as wide as dinner plates. He doesn't blame him when he looks right at Buck again.

Hen and Chim notice this time, but it's Hen that clocks it first. She moves to take a step toward him.

"Buck?" she calls, at the same time that Gerrard speaks.

"No, Firefighter Buckley has requested and accepted a transfer, effective immediately; meaning we’ve got a rescue spot open."

For a moment, Buck can't help but relish the shocked silence. He watches it wash over Chim and sees Eddie spin around to stare at him.

"Buck, what--"

"Hold on, Buck--"

Chim and Eddie's voices overlap, but Buck has already turned, made it to the truck door in a few long strides. There are steps behind him, but before they can get close he's already thrown his bag into the cab and slid into the front seat. He thinks he hears his name again as he slams the door and hits the lock. He doesn't look out the window.

"Let's go," he says, fastening his seat belt. 

Tommy puts the car in drive and does as instructed.

Tommy doesn't stop until he's pulled in to a private airfield on the edge of town. Tommy checks in with the staff and hands over his keys so they can park his truck, then he takes Buck's hand and they walk over to the helicopter that would be taking Buck away from his current life. They climbed in, and as Tommy prepared for take off and communicated with Air Traffic Control, Buck thought back to the things that had gotten them here, together.

About a week after Buck had called Chief Simpson and said, Actually, sir, I don't need to think about it. This is an incredible opportunity and I will be taking it. Please let me know what next steps are to accept admission and move forward with the sabbatical, they ran into the 217 again on a fire call. Even though Tommy wasn't with the ground crew when they and several other houses were connecting hoses across half of the city previously, Buck had a feeling that the universe was successful this time—and he was right.

They hadn't seen each other since the funeral, and Buck hadn't actually prepared a speech, but after the fire was out, Buck waited in-between the trucks and snagged Tommy's turnouts at the "AR" in "KINARD".

Tommy stumbled and Buck set him to rights, then didn't give him a moment to realize what had happened before he spoke.

"Eddie isn't your competition."

"Uh--" Tommy had replied, looking confused in the way Buck had always had to stop himself from grinning at.

"What did you say to me, when you picked me up out of that hallway? The night in the lab."

Tommy's mouth had clicked shut at that and he had looked at Buck with worry evident in his eyes. Buck had just stared straight on.

"I told you I was there, I told you I was sorry."

Buck nodded, and he encouraged Tommy to keep going. "What else?"

"I said, uh, 'you did everything you could'."

Buck's eyes had closed then, a sigh had fallen from his mouth. "Bobby made me leave. He made me leave him to die, and I don't know if I could have gotten off that floor if you didn't come for me.

"Evan--"

"No, please, I need to...I need to say this." I was devastated, and I'm still devastated. And you picked me up, you told me you were there for me. You told me that I did everything I could to save him."

"Of course I did." Tommy had replied then, simply and without exaggeration. "Because you did."

Buck had felt so seen and cared for in that moment, with his call to the Chief having been playing in his head for days, and he had known that he was feeling rash in the same way. The best way.

"I have spent every minute since you put me in an ambulance that night trying to be there for everyone else, like Bobby wanted me to be. I've tried to be okay. And you know what my bes-" Buck's voice had cracked, he had to purse his lips in a moment of frustration and grief, "you know what my best friend said? That I was making Bobby's death all about myself. That everyone felt like they don't know how to 'handle' me."

Tommy had looked gutted and enraged all at once.

"Eddie was never your competition, Tommy. He never will be. Because he's telling me that I didn't do enough to save Bobby, that I make everything into the tragedy of Evan Buckley. But you--you came and got me. Before that, you came when I called. And I have a hell of a lot to apologize for, but Tommy I have never felt anything like what I feel for you before. If you'll let me, I swear to you that every day I will show you how much you mean to me. How much I love you. I will make sure you never think you have competition again."

Tommy had been silent, and Buck's face had heated.

"I'm gonna kick Diaz's ass, I'm going to apologize too," Tommy said, squeezing Buck's hand, "and I'm going to kiss the hell out of you."

A smile broke out across Buck's face.

"Not necessarily in that order." Tommy said, and grabbed Buck by the turnouts, smashing their lips together in a kiss.

"I love you too," Tommy mumbled against his lips, easy as breathing, "of course I do. How could I not?"

The moment had ended all too soon, cut by Gerrard calling for Buck around the side of the engine.

"So," Buck had said, grinning, "what are you doing Saturday?"

Tommy scoffed theatrically.

"That's my line, Buckley."

That was Friday, so Buck had done his best to keep his courage about him and slipped out of the house Saturday afternoon with an excuse of needing to get an oil change, not remotely willing to have an argument with Eddie about seeing Tommy.

They met at the cafe where Tommy had given Buck a second chance, and they talked, and talked, and kept their hands to themselves, and when they had talked about all of their history, Buck knew he needed to tell Tommy about his future.

"I need to tell you something," Buck had said seriously, draining the last of his coffee and picking at the cup's lid, "If we're going to be together, it's going to be a bit of a…long distance relationship, for a while."

Tommy's eyebrows had pulled together then, his mouth twisted in confusion. "What do you mean, Evan?"

"Before Bobby died, he put me forward for the Active Firefighter Accelerated Bachelor's program at Cal Poly Humboldt, up in Arcata. I got in and-and I already told Chief Simpson that I'm going to do it. I've got an apartment and a part-time job at a local house lined up. I start with their summer term on June first, but I'm leaving in just a few weeks to start settling in there. It'll be two years."

Tommy had sat back, shocked. Buck watched him process the information and look Buck over, making sure he was serious.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Tommy." Buck had huffed, feeling more nervous than he had in a long time. Tommy had simply laughed.

"Evan, this is…incredible for you. You deserve to do something like this. Of course I'm going to support you."

Buck had sighed in relief then, but still worried about their relationship.

"So, with us being together…long distance…"

"Mmm, maybe if you're driving." Tommy had said, smirking and taking a drink of his coffee. Buck had grinned.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Tommy had said slowly, drawn out. He reached a hand across the table and grabbed Buck's, looked into Buck's eyes, "I feel like I've waited a lifetime for you, Evan. I almost lost you twice, now. Two years of college at the top of the state isn't going to scare me. I've got a pilot's license and a helicopter I have access to."

Buck's cheeks had felt like they were on fire, blushing and grinning at the same time. He had felt weightless in the moment.

"And," Tommy had continued, "I was about to say pretty much the same thing to you. Usually, I spend a few months every year in Northern California helping to train wildfire pilots and being in the rotation during wildfire season. I didn't go last year because we had just started dating, but with the fires we had this year, it just doesn't feel right to skip it again."

Buck had listened with surprised joy at the information, letting out an awed, "are you serious?" when Tommy had paused.

"Completely." Tommy said and squeezed Buck's hand, "Fate keeps bringing me back to you, it seems. Plus, staying with my hot college student boyfriend in his college student apartment will be way nicer than the barracks they put me up in."

Buck couldn't do anything but grin helplessly, feeling like everything was turning around after a year from Hell. In the next moment, he had thought about one more thing he needed to tell Tommy.

"One last thing," He had said, tone even.

"Anything."

"Athena and her kids, Chief Simpson, and Gerrard are the only ones who know that I'm leaving. I'm not telling the others until I leave."

"Okay." Tommy had said simply, nodding.

"And after I do leave, I'm not telling anyone else where I am."

At that, Tommy's eyes had widened, but he didn't question Buck. He simply put his coffee down and brought his other hand atop of the one that was holding Buck's.

"That means that you can't tell anyone where I am…or I guess, where we are either. Is that okay?"

Tommy contemplated for a moment before shrugging.

"I mean, I'm a little sad I'm just going to have to ignore Eddie rather than kicking his ass, but. I guess that's okay."

Buck's heart had kicked in his chest then, full with the knowledge that he had another person so solidly in his corner.

Buck comes back to himself when Tommy asks him if he's ready to lift off. Buck nods and the blades start up. Tommy slowly lifts them into the air, and when they've reached flying altitude and Tommy starts pushing them north, Buck feels suddenly overwhelmed with the choices he's made, and how much he can't bring himself to regret them.

"Thank you, Tommy." Buck calls into his microphone, knowing Tommy can hear him clearly, "For saving me."

Tommy looks at him like it's the easiest thing in the world, like he isn't saving Buck from months of suffocating grief, sadness, and anger. He shakes his head.

"You're saving yourself, Evan. I'm just the getaway driver."

Chapter Text

ACT II: THIS ISN’T EXACTLY AN AMBER ALERT SITUATION

When Buck and Tommy land at the Arcata-Eureka Airport Buck feels like there's a weight lifting from his chest. He feels light in a way that he hasn't even before Bobby died, he feels like he did in October. When they get out, the air is noticeably cleaner and Buck can't help but breathe in deeply, letting his lungs fill until they can take no more. The sun is beginning to set, but this late in the year they've got a while yet before its gone completely.

While Tommy does post-flight checks and logs the appropriate information, Buck stops by customer service to pick up the keys to his truck that had been dropped off by the moving company last week. When he arrives at the vehicle Buck throws his bag into the back seat, slides in behind the wheel, and takes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He groans at the thought of turning it on again, debates asking Tommy to handle the GPS, but ultimately admits that he's going to have to deal with it eventually.

After it powers up, Buck has to wait for the avalanche of texts, calls, Instagram DMs, and even an email or two (though he sees quickly that they're both from the LAFD office) to finish loading before he can even think about opening Maps. He tries not to look too closely at any of them, but he does blanch at the numbers.

Missed Calls (52)

Hen Wilson - 12 text messages

Chimney Han - 42 text messages

Maddie - 15 text messages

Ravi Panikkar - 1 text message

Athena Grant - 2 text messages

Eddie Diaz - 5 text messages

Christopher Diaz - 2 text messages

Instagram - 17 new notifications

GMail - 2 new emails

Buck sighs, not nearly ready enough to even consider opening most of the messages. He knows that Tommy told him he would need to stop in to arrange proper care of the helicopter, so he's got a few minutes still. He clicks on Athena's messages, because he promised that he would. The messages are simple, but Buck appreciates them all the same.

Athena Grant: Let me know you've made it safely, Buck.

Athena Grant: God knows why you keep getting in those damn things.

He laughs, recalling how tense she was the entire time Tommy had flown her back to safety from the cruise ship. He thinks about how she had hugged Bobby that day, and he feels a stab of pain but for the first time it doesn't drag him down completely. He blinks, chooses not to analyze that too closely, and responds. Her replies come quickly.

Evan Buckley: We touched down, safe and sound. Going to get dinner and find my apartment. I'm sorry if you're getting even a fraction of the calls and messages I'm getting.

Athena Grant: Good. Tell Tommy to buy you a good dinner.

Athena Grant: Don't worry about me, they haven't thought to contact me yet.

Buck knows he could respond further and apologize for what he's sure is to come, but he also knows that Athena had told him at their final dinner together to stop apologizing so much. He lets the conversation end there and smiles when he sees Tommy making his way toward the truck.

Buck finally opens up his Maps, plugs in the address to his new home, and searches for restaurants along the way. Tommy slides in next to him after throwing his own go-bag behind them.

"Uhhhh, Chinese or Diner food?" Buck asks, scrolling through the listings that came up. He hears Tommy hum at the question, moving to buckle his seat belt then reach out to tune Buck's radio to some station that's no doubt a cross between indie-bands Buck has never heard of and oldies Buck doesn't know the words to. Buck watches him with a small smile. "You and your radio, old man."

Tommy scoffs, throwing Buck a look over the top of his aviator sunglasses.

"You'll never learn any new songs if you just listen to the same playlist, Evan."

As he's talking, Buck ends the sentence with him—"if you just listen to the same playlist, Evan." Buck smirks, tongue poking through his teeth at Tommy.

Tommy tries to hold out, but he bursts out laughing after only a few seconds. He reaches over to gently run a hand through Buck's hair, still mussed as it is from the helmet he wore on the flight.

"Yeah okay, brat." Tommy says, still chuckling, "Diner food, of course. Please tell me they've got cake. I need at least two desserts after that daring escape."

Buck grins at him, selecting the diner and moving to put the truck in gear.

"You've got it, babe."

They make it to Buck's new apartment after stopping in at the local diner, Tommy treating himself to a piece of cake and pie while Buck drinks a truly incredible chocolate milkshake. The drive isn't long, but it's getting a bit dark so navigating takes a keen eye. They pull into the driveway of the brick duplex and can see the light on in the other unit.

Tommy tells Buck to go ahead and knock so he can meet his neighbors and grab the key from them while he pulls their bags out of the truck. Buck nods and thanks him, getting a sweet but tired smile in return, then heads up the steps of the worn porch. He only has to knock twice before a short woman who couldn't be older than twenty-four answers the door. She looks him up and down and raises an eyebrow.

"You Evan, then?" She asks, voice layered with an accent he doesn't recognize.

"Y-yeah, I'm Evan. Your new neighbor. Jim said you'd have a key for me?"

"For sure," She says, ducking out of the doorway for a moment, giving a Buck a brief look into a small but warmly decorated living room. A TV plays softly in the background, and Buck tries not to look to closely and invade thier privacy while Tommy comes up behind him, large palm coming to rest against his back. The woman returns, hand outstretched with a set of keys in them. Buck takes them with an easy thanks.

"I'm Alethea, by the way. Jim said you requested two keys." She glances curiously at Tommy.

"Oh!" Buck says, moving to the side to reveal more of Tommy to Alethea, "Yeah, this is Tommy—my boyfriend."

Alethea sighs suddenly, stepping back herself and raising her head up and back.

"Babe!" She calls loudly, "They're gay, thank god!"

"Well, I'm bi," Buck says before he can think about it, then mentally kicks himself for ruining his first impression.

"Oh shit, my bad," Alethea says to him seriously before she calls out, "One is bisexual and one is…" she trails off, looking at Tommy.

"No, I am gay." Tommy says easily.

"—And one is gay!"

"Ey?" Another voice calls from within the apartment, and Buck hears Tommy snort behind him. Buck can do nothing but try not to blush or laugh nervously. Another woman comes up behind Alethea and wraps an arm around her. She's far taller than Alethea, willowy and with fairer skin. "Y'all the new neighbors?"

"Yeah, yes, hi." Buck says, trying to smile as nonthreatening as possible, "I'm Evan, and this is Tommy, my boyfriend. Tommy isn't technically living here with me but he'll be around a lot."

"Hey." Tommy says behind him, amusement evident in his voice.

"Well, welcome to Arcata," the woman says with a smile. "I'm Johnny."

Buck stumbles a bit at the name but grins none-the-less, telling them both that he's happy to meet them. They exchange a few more sentences, Alethea telling them that they've got 45 minutes max of hot water in a shower, the laundry is in the shared basement, and that she's also a student at Cal Poly.

"Maybe we can carpool sometime." Alethea says easily, and Buck nods happily. He thanks them both again, and they retreat back behind their closed door. Buck looks at Tommy and suddenly they're both snickering as quietly as they can.

Buck shakes himself out of it first, stepping across the porch to his door. He looks at the worn door and reaches a hand up to touch the edges of the '99 A' marker on it, metal a tarnished gold. He doesn't linger long, eager to get in and get settled so he and Tommy can sleep off such a dramatic day.

The door opens easily, creaking a little as it gives way to the darkened living room. Before he can get lost looking for it, Tommy easily flips a switch to the right of the door and light floods the space. Buck immediately sees the few boxes of items he had moved here along side his two suitcases of clothes, resting against a faded but comfortable looking couch.

Tommy closes the door and locks it behind them, making a pleased noise when he sees a set of key hooks nailed into the wall. He slips Buck's truck key and the set of apartment keys on a hook each before turning to face Buck. Buck gives him a small smile, hoping that he's exuding happiness and confidence, but he knows he didn't quite get there when Tommy responds with a concerned look and holds his arms open.

Buck takes one big breath and feels it catch in his throat then takes one large step into Tommy's space, bumping their chests together and wrapping his arms too tightly around Tommy's ribs. Tommy takes it in stride, rocking back to counterbalance Buck's momentum and wrap his arms just as tight around Buck's shoulders. Buck lets out hitching sobs, feeling every support beam he had set up within himself for the last few weeks crumble in the face of finally being alone with Tommy, ten hours from everything he thought mattered more than anything to him.

Tommy doesn't shush him, doesn't tell Buck that it's okay. He just holds Buck and doesn't complain when the collar of his shirt becomes damp or Buck can't calm himself down for long enough that he must be feeling the familiar pinch in his lower back he always complains about. He presses kisses into Buck's hair and rubs his hand up and down Buck's arm.

When Buck finally resurfaces from where he had buried himself into Tommy's neck, Tommy pulls away just enough to get his hands on Buck's cheeks, both thumbs coming up to swipe away the final tears that appear there. Gently he guides Buck's forehead to rest against his own.

"You're so strong, Evan," He says with quiet conviction. "Don't ever think you ran away or gave up, because you didn't."

"I-I left them all, Tommy." Buck tells him, knowing he sounds as miserable and overwhelmed as he feels. Tommy just hums easily and pulls back to look Buck in the eyes.

"I think they left you first," He says slowly, "but, that's not a conversation for tonight."

Buck wants to argue, wants to hash out everything he has done until he feels like he's been punished enough by reliving it all, but stops himself when he thinks about Tommy's words. You're so strong, Evan.

"Okay," Buck agrees, pulling away fully and wiping his hands across his eyes. He gives Tommy a smile, more genuine this time, and holds out a hand. "I've never been here before, so I can't give you a tour. But we can figure it out together?"

Tommy smiles back at him and it sets something at ease in Buck's mind. Their hands clasp together and they make their way through the living room, glancing at the half bath they pass on the way to the kitchen.

The kitchen itself is dated but its dome light casts a soft yellow glow on a solid looking dining table tucked into a corner and a spacious oven that more than make up for the loud buzz emanating from the refrigerator. He and Tommy rotate around the room, pulling open doors and sticking their heads into cabinets, checking the lock on the back door, chuckling at the faded 90's style wallpaper border near the ceiling that depicts chickens running across a plaid background.

They leave checking the basement and laundry for the next day and swing back around into the living room to climb the stairs. The full bath is pale blue with black and white tile and a truly ancient light fixture over the sink. Tommy spots the average sized bath that runs along the right wall and lets out a satisfied groan.

"If you think I'm not coming here after a wildfire rotation and stewing myself in this bathtub, you're wrong."

Buck laughs at him and tells him he's welcome to become bathtub stew whenever he wants, even though he wrinkles his eyebrows at the wording.

The only other room on the second floor is the single bedroom in the apartment, and honestly it's the room that Buck is looking forward to the most. He flicks on the light and steps in, but quickly stops short and feels Tommy run right into his back.

"What hap—" Tommy says before he spots what's drawn Buck up short.

There's a basic desk under a window in one corner, a dresser and closet door along the left wall; and a squat nightstand with an arguably ugly lamp sat atop it.

But jutting out from the right wall is the bed—a bed that is decidedly far too small for two men over six feet.

"Uhhh…" Buck sounds out, "is that…a twin bed?"

"I think its a full, actually, but that's not much better." Tommy says, resting his hands on Buck's shoulders. "Good thing you like cuddling."

"Yeah, there's that." Buck says as he waits for regret and anxiety to hit him.

It never comes—the only thing that he feels settle into his bones is giddy joy when Tommy squeezes his shoulders and presses a kiss to Buck's cheek.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's find your sheets—I may have done one night on a bare mattress for you, but that is so not happening again."

"Be right there," Buck tells him, hearing Tommy's retreating footsteps. He rests his head against the door frame and looks at the space that will be his for the next two years. It feels more familiar than the sleek lines of his loft and more like home already than Eddie's house. Buck sighs happily and pushes off from his spot when he hears Tommy calling from downstairs.

Later, after they've fit too big sheets over the too small mattress and showered off the staleness of travel and unpacking, Buck and Tommy squeeze themselves into bed and Buck has to admit that it's actually kind of comfortable. He's got a quarter of one leg hanging off the side and Tommy had to fit their thighs together snugly to make it work, but Buck's got his head resting on Tommy's collarbone and can feel his heartbeat against his cheek.

"I will buy you another bed, if you want." Tommy says, running his fingers through Buck's hair. Buck is fading quickly, warm and unworried for the first time in what feels like forever.

"Mmm, we'll see how this goes first," Buck mumbles and Tommy laughs quietly. He's quiet for only a moment before he speaks softly.

"You introduced yourself as Evan earlier. With Alethea and Johnny."

"Yeah," Buck says before he can get his mind turning too much over it, "I think I want to be Evan here."

"Okay." Tommy agrees easily. There's no undertone or judgment.

"Sorry," Buck tells him, eyes slipping closed.

"What've you got to be sorry for?" Tommy asks, tugging gently on Buck's curls when he takes longer than a beat to answer.

"Don't pull my hair when I'm too tired to suck your dick about it." Buck says, though he's unsure of how understandable it is until Tommy lets out a sharp laugh.

"Evan." He sighs with amusement.

"Sorry you aren't special anymore, for calling me Evan." Buck tells him.

"That's okay, Evan," Tommy whispers, and if Buck wasn't so tired he may have better clocked how choked up Tommy sounded in that moment, "I don't mind."

"Mmm," Buck says, letting a yawn interrupt him before he finishes his final thought for the night, "You're special in other ways though. Love you, Tommy."

He drifts off then, letting himself fall into sleep that comes easier than it has in months— but not before he hears Tommy's reply.

"I love you too, Ev."

It's Hen that comes to Athena first, just like she knew it would play out. While she didn't necessarily agree with Buck's decision to leave the 118 and his sister in the dark, she would respect it. If there is anything in her life she has learned, it's that grief and moving on look different for everyone. 

Hen's got a bottle of wine in her hand at least, and Athena knows this conversation is inevitable, so she lets her in with as warm a look as she can manage. 

Hen has the tact to wait until after they've talked about how Harry and May are, but Athena can see how nervous she is all the same. 

“Just ask, Hen.” 

“You know I wouldn't ask this for anything…anyone else, but I need help finding Buck. We finished up our shift yesterday with Gerrard offering Eddie an open position on A-Shift then telling us that Buck had requested and accepted a transfer.” 

Athena hums in acknowledgment but doesn't speak. She turns to reach for two stemmed glasses out of an upper cabinet and the wine opener from the drawer at her hip. Hen falters a bit at her nonchalance but keeps going.

“And then he got in Tommy's truck and left without looking back. He hasn't been answering his phone for anyone, even Maddie. When Eddie got to the house it was empty except for a note on the door telling him that the keys were with his Aunt; and when Chim went by Tommy's house it looked locked down for an extended time away."

Hen takes a deep breath, counting things off on her hand as she lists them.

"…Gerrard won't tell anyone where he transferred, when I called Central Office they told me that they ‘didn't have an Evan Buckley listed as currently employed with any stations at the LAFD’, and when someone tried calling Tommy's station, they said he was on his annual loan—whatever that means. He's just…gone.” 

Athena listens, nodding and pouring the wine. She still says nothing. Hen stares at her and tries to wait her out, but eventually gives in. 

“Athena, are you hearing me? Buck is--is missing!” Hen says in a rush, looking taken aback at Athena. 

“Hen, what you've just told me is a story of a grown man getting a new job and moving—with his boyfriend I might add. He's not missing. This isn't exactly an Amber Alert situation.”  She knows her eyebrows aren't doing anything subtle or kind.

“Athena!” Hen says, placing both hands on the island in front of her, “this is extremely out of character for Buck. Leaving the 118? He and Tommy aren't even together! We're all worried--” 

“I'm not.” Athena says, lifting her glass to her lips 

Hen splutters, looking at Athena like she doesn't recognize her. 

“You're not worried? How?” 

“Because, I had dinner with him and Tommy last week. They've been back together for a bit now, and seem to be doing fine." She put her hands up, palms out.

Hen splutters again, eyes wide.

"And," Athena says slowly, grabbing her glass and swirling the wine slowly, "I know where he is.” 

That snaps Hen's mouth closed and her head back. Her eyebrows pull together. 

“You what?” She says, voice barely a whisper. 

“I know exactly where Buck is. I know what he's doing. I know that he is okay. The agreement is that he checks in with me every week and I don't tell anyone where he is.” 

“Agreement--” Hen starts, “You're...condoning this?”

Athena feels annoyance flare within her, suddenly understanding a bit more why Buck made a decision that had seemed so drastic. 

“Henrietta, I am not condoning anything because Buck is an adult who knows what he needs. If you want this conversation to continue, I suggest that you also remember that.” 

Athena's sharp tone gets a cowed look from Hen and a deep breath before she tries again. 

“You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just...” Hen says, eyes moving upward and blinking quickly, “I'm so damn worried about him.” 

“I understand that,” Athena allows, softer this time, “I am sorry I can't tell you more. But I promise you, Buck is just fine.” 

“But, ‘Thena, I just don't get it. No warning, no information...why would Buck just leave like that?” 

“Because Bobby told him to.” Athena says evenly, gaze steady. Hen balked, confused. 

“Bobby? What do you mean?” Hen questions, shaking her head slightly. 

“I can't tell you a lot, it would reveal too much. But Buck went somewhere Bobby had found for him, shortly before he died.” 

“This has been in the works that long? But...” 

“No,” Athena says, sighing and taking a drink of her wine before continuing, “Bobby hadn't even told Buck what he was doing. But, Buck received some information recently regarding what Bobby believed he's capable of. I gave him the information and he chose to take it and leave.” 

“You--” Hen starts, looking hurt. 

“I did what my husband would have done, but more than that…I agreed with all of it.” 

“But, why? Why not warn any of us? Why not tell me?” 

“Hen...” Athena says, looking at the ceiling and hesitating in a way that told Hen she wouldn't particularly like what Athena was about to say. “Everyone grieved Bobby dying. Everyone was affected, in their own way because of their own relationship with Bobby; and no one wanted him to die like that.” 

Athena pauses, a haunted look in her eyes for a moment before it retreats. 

“Having to watch my husband die behind a glass door was one of the most painful moments of my life. Just as I know that learning about his death must have been painful for all of you.” 

Athena takes a fortifying drink of her wine, and Hen watches silently. 

“But Buck...” Athena says, eyes darting to the picture Karen had brought her, nestled into a bookcase, “It was Buck that the door closed on. It was Buck who had to call me to come in. It was Buck who was told ‘you'll be okay, they'll need you’...and then, it was Buck who Bobby made leave.”  

Hen sucks a breath in severely, eyes widening. 

“He never--” 

“I know. Can you blame him?” Athena says, voice hollow. “To be burdened with that. Why would he do the same to any of you?” 

Hen's eyes close, her head bows. 

“Oh, Buck.” she whispers. 

“Oh, Buck is right. I have watched that boy shoulder so much in these past weeks, just like Bobby told him he would be able to. But...I have also seen you all treat Buck like a cross between a ticking time bomb and a child you don't know how to explain death to.” 

“We, well, we just...” Hen tries to defend, but she comes up short at a raised eyebrow from Athena. 

“I haven't been with you all as much lately, but at the funeral it was like you looked at him like you didn't know what to do with him. When he came here to tell me his plan and why he was doing it, he didn't say anything that didn't support that.” 

Hen looks emotional, letting out a shaky breath, but doesn't respond.

“I thought about telling him to go about it a different way, but he wasn't even angry with any of you, even Eddie--though lord knows I am.” 

“Eddie?” Hen asks, confused, “he just got back. He only saw Buck for a few minutes.” 

“There was something that happened between the two of them, around the time of the earthquake. It's not my story to tell.” 

Hen looks like she wants to push further but drops it at a stern look from her friend.

"But," Athena tells her, "it was a combination of everything that drove Buck to leave like this. Bobby gave him the tools to do it, but the actions and inactions of his family pushed him out the door."

Athena's statement hangs in the quiet of the kitchen and she watches Hen process it, lets the moment be what it needs to be. Eventually, Hen sets her shoulders back and nods.

“So, where do I go from here?” She asks, resignation in the line of her shoulders. "How do I help him, when all I've done for weeks is make him feel bad enough that he would leave like this?"

Athena takes another drink and contemplates.

“Don't ask him where he is,” Athena says, kind but firm, “don't search for him. Let him come back on his own terms, in his own time. Know that he is an adult and is doing this because it is good for him. Allow him to grieve, finally.” 

Hen's mouth twists but she doesn't argue. She looks at Athena in understanding. 

“How do I let him know that I support him? That I'm still thinking about him? That I'm…that I'm sorry?” 

“Do you? Support him? Will you think about him? Are you sorry?” Athena asks without embellishment.

“Yes. Whatever this is, if he came to you then he needed to do this. So I will support him." Hen says, then takes a deep breath, "I haven't stopped thinking about him, and I know I won't. And I didn't know how much until now, but I am sorry. I can't imagine how he felt." When she finishes, her eyes are shining.

Athena knows she means it. She speaks with finality then.

“Just because he won't respond to your messages doesn't mean he won't read them. Tell him all of this.” 

Hen looks hopeful in that moment, and Athena gives her a small smile. 

It's the next morning that the next attempt is made.

May opens the door to Chimney's knocks, and calls out for Athena. She comes around the corner and can't quite stop the grimace that crosses her face. They may have worked their way out of a collapsed high rise together and buried the Bobby hatchet, but Athena knows what Chimney is here for.

"Chimney," she says, crossing her arms and giving him a cool look. She doesn't welcome him inside. She feels May come to a stop slightly behind her. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to know where Buck is." He says simply, seriously. No pleasantries to pave the way.

"I am not at liberty to share that information."

Frustration is clear on Chimney's face and he sighs.

"You told Hen that he's okay--"

"He is." She raises an eyebrow. May tenses behind her.

"--and that you know where he is. Athena, he's my friend and my family. We're worried about him."

"He is perfectly safe and healthy." Athena isn't moved by this, and she's not giving an inch.

"But he's not here, with us."

"I think that's for a reason, Chimney."

Chimney's jaw ticks, he rubs a hand along the back of his neck. Athena unfolds one arm to grab the edge of the door.

"Please, Athena. Maddie just had a baby and now she's worried about him. This isn't like him, to—to disappear with Tommy, his ex? Not tell any of us where he's going? No plan?"

Athena gives a humorless chuckle at that. Chimney's eyes flash when he looks at her. She huffs before speaking.

"You really think Evan Buckley up and left without a plan? Give him a little credit. And, you all are working with some outdated information. Buck and Tommy are very much together again."

Chimney stops short at that, grasping for something to say.

"Go home and be with your wife and children, Chimney."

"Please, Athena," he says desperately, "just tell me where Buck is--"

Athena thinks she's had enough of listening to this, especially following the tense conversation she had with Hen over the same topic, annoyed at the way the information she shared is now being distributed.

"Or what?" She asks lowly, "you'll punch me?"

"Mom!" May says, and Athena collects herself. Chimney is speechless, looking hurt and shell-shocked.

"Buck is fine, Chimney; and I made a promise to him. You can tell everyone else the same. Goodbye."

Athena shuts the door, doesn't slam it, but shuts it and turns to May, who has her hands on her hips.

"Mom, what the heck was that?"

Athena sighs and walks towards the living room. May follows and they both sit on the new couch.

"It's really not my story to tell, but since you were present for that…years ago, after Jee-Yun was born, Maddie struggled with Post-Partum depression. Now Maddie has fought hard and should be proud of where she is today. However, at the time, she made some drastic decisions and truly disappeared. It took Chimney so long to find her, and when Buck wasn't particularly helpful…Chimney punched him."

May's mouth dropped open, "Chimney punched Buck?"

Athena grimaced but nodded.

"And although Buck has said that he's moved past it, I find I'm having a hard time myself. Not just with Chimney, but others, too."

Athena thinks of the halting way Buck told her about his fight with Eddie. Thinks of how guilty he looked telling her about Bobby slamming him up against a wall.

"I just can't imagine Buck of all people in a fight," May says, shaking her head in wonder. "I mean, I heard he hurt Eddie in a basketball game once but that's it."

"From what I understand, they aren't actually fights," Athena says on a sigh, "more like Buck just…taking it and then forgiving."

"That's…" May says, but trails off.

"I know," Athena tells her, thinking of the next call she has scheduled with Buck, "I know. But…I was wrong, probably, to say that to Chimney. It's not what Buck would have wanted."

"I mean…I know Buck isn't, like, actually your kid. He was more like…Bobby's," she says it carefully, like she's still not sure how to, "but you kind of go a little crazy over me and Harry, Mom. I can't say I'm actually surprised."

Athena scoffs, shaking her head at May.

"May, a thirty-something year old white man is not my son. Don't you go around telling anyone that."

May laughs and shakes her head right back, "Maybe not. But you do care about him. Not just because of what he meant to Bobby."

Athena purses her lips and gives May a calculating look. She huffs.

"Yeah, well," She grumbles, "it's not my fault he's just so damn easy to care about."

No one else tries to ask her about Buck, so the word must have made it around that she wasn't going to be revealing anything anytime soon. Another day passes, and the only thing she hears about it is a single text from Maddie that she sees while climbing into her patrol car.

Maddie Han: He texted me, and I understand why he did what he did. Thank you for helping him, Athena, and for keeping his secret. I won't try to ask you for more information as long as he is okay.

Athena debates what to reply, but she knows one isn't necessary. She simply likes the message and hits the streets.

Three days after flying away from Los Angeles, Buck thinks that he's ready to speak to Maddie. He talks through it with Tommy first, telling him that Buck thinks he owes it to her to at least tell her that he's fine; that he didn't run off without a plan, that he's sorry he's missing so much time with the baby. Tommy is neutral in the conversation, not trying to sway Buck one way or another but instead just listening and asking questions to get Buck to where he needs to be.

The last question Tommy asks is whether or not Buck plans to tell Maddie where they are or what Buck is doing. Buck rolls the idea around in his head; stops himself from blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. He ultimately decides that he won't—feeling guilty—but Tommy just nods and pulls Buck in gently for a kiss. He tells Buck that he'll be in the living room if he needs him. It leaves Buck at the kitchen table, empty breakfast plates and phone open to Maddie's contact in front of him.

He's about to hit the call button but feels anxiety burn in his chest at the thought of hearing her. He's still feeling raw and the same worry that kept him from telling anyone he was leaving rears it's head—he's afraid of how easily his family can change his mind; he's unwilling to fully put trust in himself. In the sessions that Dr. Copeland graciously scheduled with him before he left, she told him that it would get easier with time to resist the pull to change his mind and abandon all of his progress; that when the chafe of the unfamiliar and unknown became a non-issue he wouldn't feel so unsteady.

It would get easier with time, she had said. Three days post-getaway wasn't much time, so Buck chooses what he'll later tell himself was the safer option, ignoring a voice in his head that tells him it's the coward's option. He clicks on messages and types out four different drafts before finally finding the words he needs in order to explain his decision to Maddie the best way he can. After its sent, he sets his phone face down on the table and gathers up the dishes, dropping them into the sink before making his way to the living room.

Tommy is plugging in his TV where it's settled on the yellowed-wood entertainment center that came with the apartment, handing Buck the remote in order to connect it to WiFi. When it's all set up and Buck asks Tommy what he wants to watch, Tommy simply pulls him into a loose embrace and tells him to pull up the first thing in his queue.

They settle in to the afternoon gently, ensconced in the little world of this apartment; this choice that Buck had made and Tommy had supported without hesitation. Buck's phone remains on the table, and he doesn't let himself worry about whatever might be waiting on it.

Buck: Hey, Maddie. I'm sorry I'm not ready to call yet, and I'm sorry I left without telling you, but I'm not sorry that I did leave. I don't want share where I am or what I'm doing yet, but I want you to know I'm alright and this is a good thing. Athena knows more—and she can tell you for sure that I'm okay. I'm sorry I'm missing things with the baby. Please tell Jee that she might not see me for a while but I love her. I know this must seem crazy to you, but I hope you trust me to come back like I trusted you to. I love you.

Maddie: I love you too, Buck. I do trust you. I owe you that. I'm going to call you, and I'm not going to be upset when you don't pick up—I just want you to have the option every day. When you're ready, I'll be here.

Chapter Text

ACT III: IT IS POSSIBLE TO SURVIVE THIS, BUT NOT UNALTERED

Buck's glad that they planned for three weeks of settling in and, frankly, vacation before Buck started in a part-time capacity at one of the local houses and Tommy started spending three days a week assisting with wildfire pilot training. They're only twelves days into it and Buck would argue that they've all been spent wonderfully. Hiking, decorating, cooking, exploring the college campus, and just…talking. The more time they're here, the more Buck realizes how caught up they had been in the newness of their relationship the first time around. This time feels so much deeper and meaningful; and every new thing Buck learns about Tommy makes him love him a little more.

Every morning, Buck convinces Tommy to stay squished into the tiny bed for just a little longer; which means that every afternoon Tommy stretches and swears that he'll be ordering a new bed immediately—but it hasn't happened yet. They're clad in briefs only, Buck's face smooshed into Tommy's shoulder, only the cool flat sheet resting at their hips. The quiet here is different from L.A.—which is never really quiet— so beyond their breathing Buck only hears faint noises coming from Alethea and Johnny's half of the house and a birds calling out in the morning air.

"There is something I have to do today, if you want to come hold my hand for it," Buck says, voice rough from sleep.

Tommy's fingers pull gently through Buck's hair, getting caught on a knotted curl once in a while and tenderly tugging it loose. He makes an interested noise after Buck speaks and yawns before he answers. It's been about an hour since Tommy tumbled back into the bed after padding to and from the bathroom, so Buck figures his stolen time twisted around Tommy in a human knot is almost up.

"Well, you know I love holding your hand, so I'm in."

Buck smiles against Tommy's chest; then delicately bites a nipple just to be ornery.

"Evan!" Tommy yelps, leg and arm jolting up in surprise and sending them both tumbling off of the bed. They're a groaning heap on the floor when Tommy says "You're a menace, Buckley. See if I hold your hand now."

Buck laughs as Tommy shoves himself upward and ends up straddling Buck's hips, arms crossed in an almost convincing posture of annoyance. The bedhead and extended-vacation beard that Buck has been undeniably hot for kind of ruins it.

"I mean, I don't really need you to, I was just saying that you could come and get some quality hand holding in while I'm unable to move or fidget."

Tommy's head tilts in question, "First of all, I love your fidgeting—"

And Buck has to sigh contentedly at that; Tommy has been on a one-man mission to tell Buck how much he loves all of the things other people have disliked about him.

"—and B," he says and Buck snorts, "what are you doing that you can't move or fidget for an extended period of time?"

Buck runs his hands up and down Tommy's thighs, exposed fully by the way his briefs are rucked up to the creases between his legs and pelvis, and grins when Tommy traps his hands in a firm but gentle grip. "Focus, Buckley."

"Two 'Buckley's this morning? I'm getting mixed signals here, babe, you don't want me to bounce on your—"

Tommy rolls his eyes and his body at the same time, popping up much quicker than a man who tried to tell him that Buck had to be on top last night because of his "poor, aching, forty year old back" should be able to. Buck knows he's pouting, but Tommy just puts his hands on his hips and waits patiently. Buck sticks his tongue out briefly and answers him.

"I booked a tattoo appointment. It's not a super complicated one, so it shouldn't take too long. I figure afterward we can find our next favorite lunch spot."

Tommy grins brightly, reaching a hand down to Buck to heave him up off of the floor. Buck uses the momentum to land a kiss on Tommy's cheek and moves to the dresser to grab out clothes for the day.

"You can shower first," He says, popping over to the closet to grab a button down, "I need to shave."

Tommy calls out an okay on his way out of the door, and Buck goes hunting next for the plastic pouch he has tucked into a file folder of important documents. He grabs it, sets it aside, and heads to the bathroom to get ready.

They're out the door not too much later, knowing Buck's appointment isn't for another hour but wanting to scout out where they can grab lunch afterward. The time passes easily as they wind through roads devoid of L.A. traffic and chaos, and for the first time in a long time Buck doesn't once feel the itch to get back to the city.

They park on the street in front of the tattoo shop he had visited and booked with the week prior twenty minutes before Buck's appointment time and Tommy asks him what he's planning on getting and where. Buck pulls up his sleeve to show an unmarked area of his inner arm, indicating with his opposite hand roughly how big he's going for, and then he pulls Bobby's letter out of the plastic pouch.

"I, uh," Buck starts, finding himself quickly choked up. It's his first instinct to swallow it down but he remembers all of the times Tommy has asked him to let himself feel the loss. He lets the feeling settle into him and pushes on. "I wanted to get this last part of the letter Bobby left for me."

Tommy leans over and Buck unfolds it, points to the lines he means. Tommy hums, and gently wraps a hand around the back of Buck's neck. He pulls Buck into his side as much as the cab of the truck will allow and presses a kiss to the larger half of his birthmark.

"I love it." Tommy says simply, and Buck nods. He's still choked up, but it loosens a bit at the statement.

'Okay, uh—we should probably go get checked in." Buck wipes at his eyes, puts the letter back into the pouch and opens the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk.

The tattoo shop is small but inviting, with its windows covered mostly in fantastical drawings of dragons and other creatures he doesn't recognize. Buck had been worried that he would have to go somewhere else for this tattoo, but he was pleased to have found the artist that owned this shop on Instagram shortly after moving in.

The inside was mostly quiet, only soft background noise and the distant buzzing of a tattoo in progress to hear. The bell on the door jingled as they walked in, and Buck smiled at the receptionist.

"Hi, I have an appointment for eleven thirty—Evan Buckley."

She clicks through the computer in front of her and gives him a grin. "There you are. Alright, lets get your paperwork filled out and Monica will get things ready for you in the back."

She hands Buck a clipboard and he takes it and Tommy to the neat row of chairs against the front windows, starting in on the forms as he sits. It's mostly information he already filled out on their online forms, but he can respect wanting several copies. He gets most of the way through it before he realizes that he wasn't thinking before he started the emergency contact portion, "M-A-D-D" on the line.

"Oh, uh—" He says, and Tommy looks down at where he's stopped. Buck just stares at the half-finished name for a second.

"Hey," Tommy says gently, wrapping his arm around Buck's shoulders, "it's okay. Plenty of room to restart."

Buck nods, and scribbles out the letters. He writes "T-O-M-M-Y" and "K-I-N-A-R-D" before stopping again, blinking over at the man. "I…definitely don't know your phone number from memory."

Tommy gasps, mock-offended, "Evan, how could you? I thought I was special."

Buck rolls his eyes, tapping the clipboard against Tommy's leg, "Tommy my most special boyfriend whom I love, can you please write down your phone number?"

Tommy snickers but takes the clipboard and pen, writing in his cellphone number before handing it back. Buck double checks everything and takes the clipboard back up to the receptionist.

"Thanks!" She says, placing his form into a folder and tucking it away in a small filing cabinet, "Monica is almost ready, she said she'll be out in a few."

"Great," Buck says, flashing her a quick smile. He makes his way back to Tommy and grabs at the hand Tommy doesn't have on his phone. He loses himself in tracing the lines across Tommy's palm and the thin scar that runs from the nail of his pinky to the knuckle of his middle finger. "How do you even get a scar like this?" Buck asks, and Tommy glances over to where Buck is pointing at it.

"Cliff diving." Tommy says simply, going back to the article on his phone.

"Cli—what? When did you go cliff diving?" Buck asks, excited, "More importantly when are we going cliff diving?"

Tommy laughs quietly, and Buck watches him flip to his camera roll. He scrolls for a while before landing on several blue-toned photos and selects one. In the photo, Tommy is standing on the edge of a cliff in a bathing suit, grinning ear to ear next to a tall man with blonde hair and a boy that couldn't have been more than twelve.

"I went with my cousin's family a few years ago—"

"Hives cousin?" Buck interjects.

"Accountant cousin, yes. Do me a favor and maybe not call him 'hives cousin' at the next reunion."

Buck laughs quietly at that and nods. Before he can ask a follow up question about where the picture was taken, Monica came up to the reception area.

"Hey Evan," she greeted, "I'm ready for you."

Buck stood and waved, saying hello back. Tommy stood next to him and Buck watched Monica's eyes track the movement.

"Christ, what are they feeding you all in L.A.?" she asks, and Buck can't help but laugh.

Tommy chuckled as well, waved and said, "I'm Tommy. I'm here for hand holding."

Monica grinned at that and looked back at Buck. "Are you nervous?"

"No," Buck said simply, and Tommy shook his head.

"I just really like holding his hand," Tommy told her, smiling widely.

"Fair enough," Monica said, shrugging, "Come with me."

They follow her back to a small room with enough space for the tattoo workstation, the customer's chair, and a cushy stool for Tommy to sit on. Buck slipped his shirt off of the arm he wanted done and settled into his chair. Monica went through the normal spiel before a tattooing, and asked Buck to promise to take care of the tattoo after she was done. He agreed, and she began to prep the area.

"So," She said as she pulled the transfer sheet out. She showed it to Buck and he grabbed the letter out to compare the two. "How's it look?"

"It's perfect." Buck says on an exhale, He placed Bobby's letter back in it's pouch and handed it to Tommy. "Let's do it."

Monica nods and gets to work. Tommy happily reaches out to grab Buck's opposite hand and hold it snugly. As Monica works she asks them questions about how they're settling in and how they're feeling about being outside of L.A.—Buck tells her about them both being firefighters and him coming up for the Fire Science program at Cal Poly. He asks her in return about the good hiking spots and best place to grab a beer in town.

The tattoo doesn't take long, and Buck isn't more than slightly uncomfortable the entire time. Tommy watches in fascination and Buck remembers that Tommy doesn't have any tattoos.

"Maybe you'll be next, babe." Buck says, and Tommy just hums at him. "Could get something good, like a helicopter on your pec."

He gets a snort for that, and Monica tells them that she doesn't think she'd be very good at a helicopter, but she can do a dragon like nobody's business.

"Maybe a buck," Tommy says, looking right at Buck's cheeks and smiling when he undoubtedly sees them go bright red, "Always a big deer fan."

Buck rolls his eyes but stays quiet, Monica chatting with Tommy about the local animal population as she nears the end of the final word. Buck lets himself zone out a little, thinking about Tommy with a buck tattooed across a broad shoulder or a muscular thigh—before he abruptly makes himself think about anything else. The way that Tommy catches his eye and smirks at him tells him that he's been caught in some capacity.

Monica finishes a few moments later, and she makes quick work of sanitizing the area and fitting the Saniderm over it. She goes over aftercare with him and tells him that there are larger bottles of Aquaphor at the pharmacy down the street if he needs more than the small container she's sending him home with.

Buck listens intently even though he's a pro at tattoos by now, and he thanks her again.

"I hope I did Bobby justice," she says carefully, in the way that strangers do when they aren't sure of circumstance but want to acknowledge it anyway.

"Yeah," Buck says, smiling softly. "He'd roll his eyes at me getting yet another tattoo, but he'd be impressed with the quality. Maybe he's looking down right now and doing just that."

"Good," Monica says, before pulling her gloves off and pulling the sleeve of her own shirt aside to show a clearly well-done tattoo of a red and white warning sign on her wrist. "I got this when I lost my dad. He was my biggest supporter, and losing him changed me."

Buck cranes his head to look at it, and he reads the stark block letters slowly.

IT IS POSSIBLE TO SURVIVE THIS, BUT NOT UNALTERED

Buck's eyes sting a bit, and for a moment he feels good to know that he shares this type of grief with someone else, someone outside of and far removed from his own grief.

"Yeah," he says, "that's how I feel. Surviving but…altered."

"I'm still learning that it's not always a bad thing, the survival or the alteration. I hope you do to."

They let her final statement hang in the air for a second or ten, and then she smiles and stands.

"Come back if you experience any issues, but otherwise keep it clean and moisturized. I hope I see you all around town."

Tommy thanks her quietly while Buck gets his shirt sleeve situated, and they step back out into the shop, stopping at the front desk to pay. Buck leaves a more than fair tip and signs the receipt, turning then to Tommy.

"Lunch?"

"Lunch."

The first time Athena sees the 118 on scene after Buck's Big Escape, as May and Harry have taken to calling it, only Hen is brave enough to approach her at first; walking over to chat about both the accident they're handling and how Athena's week is going. It's been about a week since Athena let Hen down gently and Chimney down much less gently, and she knows that Buck has still only contacted Maddie out of the bunch. Chimney gives her a wave and nod before focusing back in on the task at hand.

It's a pile up, nothing too dramatic, the 118 only there to help extricate a family that has ended up pinned in their SUV, but Athena knows that if he gets the chance, the person she's been expecting to hear from the most will find her.

He bides his time, Athena will give him that. He waits until all injuries are either tended to or handed off to ambulance crews, waits until Hen and Chimney are distracted while coordinating with another officer on the far side of the wreck. Beyond his shoulder, Athena can see Ravi standing close; eyes darting between them, well within hearing range. Athena sighs, adjusts her sunglasses, and finally turns.

"Firefighter Diaz, what can I do for you?"

Out of all of the 118, Eddie Diaz is the one that Athena knows the least. Even before Bobby died, they hadn't had many interactions, and of those they were pretty surface level. May knew him better having worked with him, and her vague "he's okay" comments from them didn't help much. With him standing before her, Athena can only read him like she does any other stranger, and the way his eyes are shifting around her tell her that he wants to be having this conversation just as much as she does.

"Uh, hi, Athena," he begins, "I uh. Can I ask about Buck?"

It's not the opening she expected, and she doesn't want yet another knowing look from her daughter for being a little to harsh on the 118, so Athena just swallows a sharp reply and nods.

"Did he leave because of me?"

Athena blinks, and has to really think about that one.

"Well. I can't say for sure. Why would you think that?" She says, realizing that maybe Eddie Diaz would be the one to finally get it.

"After Bobby died he was being ridiculous and no one knew how to handle him, and I had to be the one to tell him that. Then he just goes crazy and runs off like this without telling anyone. It's dramatic and if it's really because of what I said I'll apologize so he gets over it already and comes back.

Well, Athena thinks, Bobby never accused Eddie of being mature or observant.

"Firefighter, I suggest you take a moment and think about what you just said to me."

"Buck-"

"Buck nothing," she says, keeping her tone deliberately calm and edging on annoyed. "I am talking about you. I want you to think about what you just said. I want you to talk to Chimney and ask him how coming at me with the same strategy worked."

Eddie scowled and looked away, his temper clearly being batted back by trying to be respectful.

"It's not like I punched him like Chim did." He says, exasperated. Athena's patience runs thinner.

"No, no you didn't," She tells him with a nod and looks past him. The other officer has broken away from Hen and Chim and is walking towards her. "But I think you and I both know that the threat of it wrapped in all the perfect words to cut someone down with precision can hurt just as badly."

The officer makes it to their side and Athena nods to them, turning to follow. Eddie doesn't speak, but Athena turns once more. He doesn't deserve advice, not really, but these days she thinks she's got Bobby whispering in her ear when it comes to his team.

"You've given me a lot of work, you know," She says and he gives her a confused look. "Convincing Buck that he's actually allowed to feel something regarding my husband's death has certainly been a task. Let me give you some work in return."

She clocks the way that Eddie winces at my husband's and feels it fuel the part of her that she admits relishes to much when those who have hurt those she loves feel that hurt in return.

"Think about everything you know about Buck. Think about what you said to him. Think about why it may have made him leave."

She takes a breath then, seeing Hen and Chimney standing next to Ravi; all three watching them closely.

"And then, Eddie, I want you to remember something. Not everything is about you."

She turns then, not willing to give her any more time. If he says anything in reply it's lost to her as the radio on her shoulder crackles to life and starts spitting out the details for her next call. She doesn't look back when she gets in her cruiser, but as she pulls away only Ravi is framed in her rear view mirror, grinning widely. She can't help but chuckle a little. She's sure that line is going to get back to Buck eventually.

"Athena, don't listen to him. That's the coolest thing I've ever heard!" Tommy's voice calls out, voice cutting through Buck tripping over himself to excuse his friends yet again.

"Okay, objectively it was cool—" Buck says, but is cut off when Tommy comes into the screen of the video call.

"No, sorry, he isn't appreciating it enough. Get out of here, Evan." Tommy says, and a big hand covers the screen before Buck realizes what's happening. There's the sound of a scuffle, Athena chuckling as she witnesses a small rectangle of the chaos from where she sits on her couch with May. It's been almost three weeks since Buck left, and Athena knows that soon Buck and Tommy will be back to working part time, settling in to the routine that will take them into the Fall.

The grappling ends with a victorious crow from Tommy and a whiny "Tommy!" from Buck. Tommy's grinning face fills the screen as he moves in a way that suggests he's getting comfortable for the long haul.

"Light of my life," Tommy calls, looking over his shoulder, "this is now a club meeting and its members only please respect our privacy."

Athena's eyebrows shoot up and she hears Buck huff.

"Club? What club?" Buck says, and Tommy just turns back to the phone and smiles wider.

"The D-F-E-B club," Tommy says like everyone should know what he's talking about, "the Defending and Fighting for Evan Buckley club. Obviously. Athena and I are the founding members."

Behind Tommy's shoulder, Buck leans down to get one last look at Athena. His cheeks are bright red and his eyes are a little glassy.

"Y-yeah, okay," Buck says, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to Tommy's hair, "I'll leave you to your meeting then."

Tommy calls out; "thank you, it's a very full agenda today," and Buck finally exits the frame. Athena watches as Tommy cranes his neck to watch Buck leave, hearing a faint bang before he turns back to her.

"Okay," Athena says, "what's the real reason you sent him away?"

May snorts next to her, and Athena just lightly swats at her daughter's arm.

"Well, first, let me just say: what you said to Eddie was amazing. Ravi has sent Evan three separate text messages that just have exclamation points in them."

Athena hums, nodding, but waits for more.

"And second, I'll talk to him about it later. It's his nature to try and defend people he cares about, even when they've not treated him well. Thank you for saying what you did. I'll help him understand why it was a good thing."

"Thank you, Tommy," Athena tells him genuinely, "I know how Bobby would feel regarding this whole mess, and while I don't exactly have my husband's ability to dole out wisdom sagely and calmly, I do like to think I can get a point across just fine. It's just up to them to figure it out from here."

"It is." Tommy agrees with a nod. Before he can speak again, May's phone dings and she shoots up and off the couch.

"My ride is here for the movie. I'll be back late, don't wait up." May tells her, giving Athena a peck on the cheek before moving toward the door. "Bye Tommy! Let me know when the first real meeting of the DFEB club is, I'll be there."

Tommy laughs warmly, "will do, bye May!" he calls, and May is out the door.

Athena sees the headlights of a car backing out of the driveway and turns her attention back to Tommy. He looks well rested, but there's been a shade of something on him for the entire call.

"So," Athena starts, and her tone makes Tommy's eyes go wide. "Tell me, how are you, Tommy?"

"Me? I'm great. Totally fine."

He's not very convincing, and she doesn't even have to tell him—he seems to hear it himself and winces.

"Okay, maybe I'm a little stressed about us both going back to work and breaking this…weird bubble we're in right now."

Athena hums, nodding, "well, that's understandable."

"Yeah," Tommy says, sighing and running a hand through his hair, "I think things are going well—which is kind of the problem?"

Athena tilts her head, nodding and letting Tommy continue.

"Like, we broke up because I was afraid that we would move in together and completely change my life and then get left in the dust. And now I just flew him up state and basically moved in with him and upended my whole life and it just feels…"

Tommy trails off, looking upward as if searching for an answer of any kind.

"…easy," Tommy finishes, sighing again.

It takes about two seconds for his short rant to catch up with him, and he groans.

"I am…so sorry. I do not know why I just dumped that all on you. You barely even know me, I am so sorry Athena. I just wanted to—"

"Tommy," Athena says, stern but kind, "I asked. You are Buck are quite the pair, aren't you?"

Tommy winces at that and Athena hums again.

"Bobby and I got married very quickly, I'm sure you remember," Athena starts, her tone thoughtful. Tommy snaps to attention and listens intently. "It felt crazy. I had a whole life, even after my divorce, and here I was just jumping into a marriage."

Tommy doesn't say anything, just nods slightly.

"Things don't follow a set pattern. Frankly, I don't think anything in your relationship does."

Tommy looks sheepish at that, grinning and shrugging.

"But," she tells him, "it's yours. I can't tell you that it should be more difficult or feel different. What I can tell you is that it's clear you care for each other. Just because making things more serious by moving in together scared you then doesn't mean you should still feel that way. So much has happened since then, and so many circumstances have changed. It's okay if it works out. Don't go looking for trouble because you think it should be there. Don't waste time when you can never know how much you have left."

When she finishes her speech, Tommy hangs his head and lets out a gusty breath.

"Yeah," he says, picking his head back up and giving her a wobbly smile. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry, you definitely didn't sign up to be a relationship therapist for a guy who should definitely have it figured out."

Athena purses her lips and affixes him with a look.

"No," she tells him loftily, "and I didn't sign up for this Defending and Fighting for Evan Buckley club, but damn if I don't think I must be the co-President at this point."

Tommy laughs brightly at that, "yeah, fair enough. It's a pretty good club though."

"You're right. It is." Athena tells him, smiling softly.

"You know…" Tommy starts, eyes shifting for a second, "I was there. When you and Bobby met. Should have seen it coming."

"When we…" Athena says, eye brows pulling together as she thinks. When it comes to her, she rolls her eyes. "That damn chicken."

Tommy laughs again, heartily this time, "so, first of all, if you ever run into Deluca again—"

"Deluca, now there's a name I haven't heard in a while!"

He nods before recounting that call from his own memory, and Athena shifts to get more comfortable as they talk. It feels good, she thinks, to remember.

Kicked out of his own video call, Buck huffs all the way out the back door. He'd been meaning to get a look at the back steps that lead from the small shared porch into the yard behind the house, and if he does it today he can convince Tommy to go pick up new wood for them with him tomorrow.

He's not actually too upset, if anything he's glad that Tommy and Athena will get to talk. Tommy had been handling everything without a single complaint so far, and while Buck is enjoying the way they've fallen back into each other, he doesn't want his running away to have completely isolated Tommy, too. So maybe talking to Athena one on one can help with that.

He plods down the stairs, careful to jump over the last one which is clearly days from rotting through completely, and crouches to look at it. He'll have to buy a tape measure unless Tommy's got one in his truck, but Buck has pretty much everything else he'll need in his car toolkit.

"Evan!"

Buck hears a voice call out to him, and it only takes him a half second this time to realize that someone is talking to him. He stands from his crouch and looks over to the big tree that shadows the house from where it grows next to the corner of his neighbors' kitchen. Beneath the tree, Alethea and Johnny sit in half-shade, half-sun on mismatched plastic lawn chairs; their feet in a hot pink kiddie pool.

Alethea's got her hair up and wide, round sunglasses on; holding a travel mug and waving at him. Next to her, Johnny is wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat and a long sleeve t-shirt. Buck waves back and calls out a greeting—Alethea's hand shifts to beckoning him over. He goes, and shoots them an easy smile when he stops in front of the kiddie pool. It is a hot day out, dry and sunny, so Buck can respect their ingenuity.

"Welcome to Lake Alethenny," Alethea tells him, gazing up at him from over the lenses of her sunglasses. "That's Alethea and Johnny put together. If you get in we can workshop how to get Evan in there somewhere—but enter at your own risk, no life gaurd on duty."

Buck laughs gently and tilts his head, considering.

"I'm no life guard, but I am a firefighter so I think I'll be okay. Why not." He glances around and sees another, similar yet different plastic lawn chair tucked under the porch. He grabs it and pops it open, placing it at the edge of the pool across from the other two lake goers and sits. In the moments it takes to pull his shoes and socks off and settle his feet into the suprisingly cold water, they pepper him with questions about being a firefighter, alternating so smoothly between his answers that it seems effortless.

"Firefighter huh? In LA?"

"Yeah, seven or so years now."

"How hard a job is that?"

"Uh, it's not easy?"

"Is beefcake boyfriend also a firefighter?"

"Technically. He's a firefighter pilot."

"Are you going to fire fight here?"

"I'm not sure that's the term for it but yeah, part time while I'm in school."

"What's your like, worst story? Wait don't tell me now, Johnny is a bleeding heart."

"I can tell you a medium story where everyone lives in the end."

That gets him to launch into what amounts to a mix of at least three different stories, all with the recurring theme of people being insane. They ask more questions as he talks, and Buck realizes that this is the first time in a long time that he's talked to anyone who is both interested in his work and wasn't there for the stories he chooses.

"—and everyone is yelling, 'Buck, get down!' but like, I'm not going to leave this kid just hanging off the side of the roof, right? It turned out fine and all, but I will never understand people who are family vloggers."

Alethea and Johnny are nodding along, and Buck answers a few more rounds of questions before they fall into an easy quiet.

"So, uh," Buck says, patting his hands against his knees and squinting against the way the sun has moved just enough to be in his eyes. "Alethea I know that you're also going to Cal Poly. What do you do, Johnny?"

Johnny tilts their head, shrugging a bit. "A few different things. Mainly I'm a bit of a mobile mechanic. I can fix any car older than a 2002, most lawn mowers, and I can do a fair amount with computers."

Beside them, Alethea is smiling proudly.

"Johnny's been saving up to buy a shop someday, wherever we end up after I finish school. It helps that one of us knows what they're doing."

Johnny tuts softly at Alethea before shaking thier head, "Don't listen to her—she's gonna be fine. Just because she doesn't have it all figured out doesn't mean she won't ever."

Buck nods thoughtfully before speaking, "What uh, what are you studying?"

"Right now, chemistry," Alethea tells him, slumping down in her chair and kicking her feet up and down in the water. The motion sends little waves across the pool and Buck realizes just how much he's enjoying this moment. "Tomorrow? Who knows. I have one semester left of my bachelors, and then I can stay on at Cal Poly in a masters if I want. I do like chemistry, I'm just not exactly finding a career for said chemistry that I want to do."

An entire degree focused on chemistry sounds impressive to Buck, and he says as much.

"Hey, my first go at college, I totally failed out after one semester. Being this close to finishing a degree is awesome."

Alethea sighs but thanks him, and Johnny sends him a grin.

"What are you studying? Fire science?" Alethea asks and Buck gives an enthusiastic nod.

"Yeah, after all of the wildfires, Cal Poly apparently wants to get more people into the fire science program, see if we can't have more people out there that understand these things."

"See, that's awesome and a real thing to do with science!" Alethea says, throwing a hand up, "maybe I should do that. Are you doing an associates?"

Buck nods again, picking his feet up gently to send his own waves through the water.

"Hmm. You'll have to tell me what your classes are like. Maybe I can sit in on one this semester and see if I like it."

Buck smiles to himself, unable to help it.

"Y-yeah, yeah of course," he says, running a hand through his hair nervously, "I, uh, I'd love to. I can let you know."

"Sweet, thanks man," Alethea says, and Johnny just smiles again.

A few moments of quiet pass again before Alethea is twisting to pull her cellphone out of her back pocket.

"Eh, mom's calling," she announces, pulling her feet out of the water before shoving them into a pair of sandles and popping out of her seat. She answers the phone, speaking in a language Buck doesn't recognize, and walks over to the porch. As she disappears into thier back door, Buck tries to replicate the sound of a word she spoke in his head, hoping to research it later.

"She's Iñupiat." Johnny says, and Buck blinks back at them. "Alaskan Inuit. The native people of that region."

"Oh!" Buck replies, committing the word to memory, "that's so cool."

Johnny hums back at him and nods.

"She'll tell you all about it if you ask. She's very proud of her heritage, as she should be."

"That's really awesome, I will ask."

Johnny seems satisfied with that, and they settle into silence again. Buck fidgets a bit, pulling out his phone and heading to google. Before he gets to far into a page from a University's Native Language center, Johnny speaks softly again.

"I wanted to ask. You said Buck earlier, in one of your stories."

"Oh, uh, I—yeah. Sorry that's a um, a nickname from my job."

"Is it your preferred name? We have no problem calling you Buck instead."

"Oh, uh no," Buck says, setting his phone down on his thigh and squinting up at the slowly swaying leaves above them. "No. Uh, I'm actually trying Evan out, here. Like, it's my legal name and I went by Evan for most of my life, but then I was Buck with the LAFD and now I'm not with the LAFD so, uh."

"That's okay," Johnny says simply, and even with their sincere acceptance Buck feels the need to explain more.

"It's just that, Tommy calls me Evan, you know? And he was the first person to do that, like, consistently in a long time and I didn't hate hearing it. I didn't tell him to call me Buck like everyone else did. I felt like I w-wasn't Buck the firefighter with him. And like, even if I am a firefighter here I'm kind of off the grid from everyone right now and so it just doesn't feel like the actions of Buck to be here, and—"

Buck cuts himself off, wincing, "—and I am so sorry that I am just randomly dumping this on you, yikes. That is, uh. That's not super great of me.S-sorry."

Johnny gives Buck a calculating look, and sits up straighter to look him in the eye.

"Johnny is my legal name. It's short for Jonathan."

Buck just blinks again, not quite sure what to say.

"I tried a few names. Jamie, Sophie, Opal." Johnny says the last one with a self-deprecating tone and Buck chuckles a bit. "By all means, I'm a trans woman. I use female pronouns interchangeably with non-binary ones. Shouldn't I want to change my name? Johnny is very clearly male."

Johnny tilts their head up then, allowing the sun to slip past the brim of their hat and light up their face. Buck stays quiet.

"But every time I changed my name, I felt like I needed to change what I did, too. Jamie wouldn't know how to fix an engine because her dad taught his son how to do it. Sophie wouldn't be able to rewire a tractor from 1964 because her grandfather spent hours showing his grandson the guts of a John Deere. Opal wouldn't…well. Opal wouldn't do a lot of things because let's be real, that is an old-ass lady name."

Buck bursts out laughing at that, not expecting such a light ending to such a meaningful speech.

"Point is," Johnny says, bringing their face back down and looking at Buck. "Maybe one day I will change my name. Maybe I won't. Right now, Johnny feels right, and it's who I have always been in a lot of ways. No, it isn't a 'woman's name'—" they throw their hands up to do exaggerated air quotes , "—but it's my name. Evan is your name. So is Buck. Maybe you're Evan for a while. Maybe you always were and it took changing something else about your life to realize it."

Buck blinks a little, feeling the sting of tears behind his eyelids. He stutters out a thanks, and he feels a little hollowed out in the middle, and a lot like he has some things to think about. When he can speak without wavering, he chuckles a bit.

"Sorry," Buck says, and before Johnny can jump in Buck continues, "You didn't exactly sign up to help some random guy you barely know who is not as well-versed in queer culture as he should be figure out what he wants to be called."

Johnny's head tilts to the side, hat casting a shadow across the water. They both turn a bit when they hear Alethea approaching the door from inside as she finishes her phone call. Johnny looks up briefly before their gaze slides back to Buck and they shrug with a sly grin.

"Alethea didn't need to help the supposed straight white guy figure out that he wanted to be anything but that. You can't let yourself feel guilt for learning from others. Just don't expect everyone to always do the work for you, and know that some day it'll be your turn."

Buck doesn't get a chance to reply, Alethea busts out of the door loudly and clomps down the stairs, sandles clacking away. She talks a mile a minute, launching into a story about her Aunt's Boyfriend's Sister's dog, and Buck just tries to keep up. She brought a big bowl of fruit with her, and in between getting to know the drama of Alethea's small home town, Johnny sends chunks of pineapple and deep red strawberries into his mouth with increasingly complicated trick shots.

Later, when Tommy comes out to find his wayward boyfriend, Lake Evalteonny looks more like a floating fruit salad.