Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To Evan Buckley, every day was the same when his sister Maddie wasn’t home. She and her husband Doug moved to Boston a year ago and Evan still felt like he was moving through molasses; cotton balls stuffed in his throat and lungs, a white sheet over his head like he was both a ghost and the only living thing in their empty, boarded up house. His parents avoided him and his life trickled on. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to blame them for all of the avoidance. After all, Evan tried to spend as much time as possible outside of the house now that he barely scraped by enough to graduate high school. He was biding his time. One day he would track Maddie down and the two of them would escape the east coast together, without their parents and without Doug. Maybe they would go somewhere warmer. 

Until then, the sun rose obnoxiously bright and early and the leaves started to fall. The birds even sounded the same. Evan still did everything possible to avoid his dad’s cold back and his mom’s mournful gaze. This summer, he took to climbing out of his bedroom window and hopping down onto the grass from the small attached garage just so he wouldn’t have to tell his parents where he was going when he was going out.

It was this kind of behavior that almost landed him in juvie. About six months ago, he was exploring local abandoned buildings when he must have been caught on camera — it didn’t help that he liked lighting trashcans or whatever detritus he could find on fire. In his defense, he usually made sure the fires were out before he left. 

He was only unlucky once. The building was empty, thankfully, but still apparently cost precious taxpayer dollars. The cops showed up at his parents house one February morning and his dad nearly popped the bulging blood vessel that seemed to pulse on his forehead whenever Evan was concerned. 

A lot of “this is the last time we bail you out” and “we surely didn’t raise this big of an idiot” were thrown about the house that evening. Evan was used it, especially now that Maddie wasn’t around to defend him. 

At least his dad didn’t trash his bike, but Evan knew that his dad wanted him out the house almost more than Evan did. They were waiting for him to slip up one more time before they sent him to basic training or something. Evan knew he was on thin ice, which is why he rode his motorcycle as fast and as hard as he possibly could the moment he was out of the driveway. It was the only time he felt like he could be something other than what he was — a disappointment. 

The early summer road was all there was. Birds called to each other on either side of the pavement, strollers babbled on the sidewalk and dresses curled in the wind as he and his bike screamed past all of the perfectly happy, normal people in his town. He wished he was anywhere else in the world other than here. 

Maybe Evan wasn’t paying attention to the road as much as he should have been, because suddenly there were police sirens behind him. 

He checked his mirrors. One cop? Evan could lose them easy. Unfortunately for him, one cop car soon became two then three. His bike could have used that fix-up he was planning and saving for after the last time he crashed her, but it was too late for that now. 

He was only starting to escape the piercing sound of the siren and shitty sedans pushing their engines and coolant systems when the train came barreling across the tracks. He sped up as the red light blinked and the crossing gate rattled into place parallel to the ground. It was when he glanced in his mirrors again, seeing the cops brake heavily that he lost his momentum and almost crashed into the jut of a pothole only 20 feet from the tracks. 

Evan swiveled, saving his life (he would not have made it across the tracks before the train came, even he knew that) but costing him his bike, which he promptly fell off of as it slid another 15 feet in the gravel. 

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Evan’s parents were friends with almost everyone in town. Instead of a ticket or jail time, Evan found himself strong armed into his own house while the cops had a terse conversation with his dad. His mom was already crying, of course, blubbering into a tissue about “the shame she felt” and “last chances” and “no other options.” He rolled his eyes, settling himself into a long wait on the living room couch. 

It was another twenty minutes by the time the last of the police officers left his house, cajoled by offers of cigars and brandy next week on his father’s dime. It was always the same conversation, Evan barely had to listen anymore. At this point, he almost wished he would get in some sort of serious trouble, go somewhere where his dad’s shiny smile and checkbook couldn’t save him. He knew he was ungrateful and he didn’t really want to do anything bad enough to warrant that anyway. 

“Do you want to die on the back of that thing?” Evan’s dad asked as soon as they were alone again. Evan’s mom stifled a loud cry into her hands. 

Evan sat with his feet planted flat on the paisley carpet, ready to spring and escape his father’s towering stance and avoidant eyes. He already felt a headache coming on from his mother’s weeping and whining. It didn’t feel like it was really about him. 

Evan said nothing. His father sighed. 

“We didn’t want it to come to this, but here we are. You haven’t left us much of a choice.” Mr. Buckley turned to Mrs. Buckley and put his hand on her shaking shoulder. “We tried, honey, we really tried. Call him.” 

Evan’s mom let out a shaky exhale and could no longer even glance in Evan’s direction. She stood up from the chair, walking toward the landline in the kitchen. 

“Go pack your things, Evan.” His father said, his voice low. This finally caught his attention.

“Wait, what? You can’t just kick me out! Who is she calling?” He stood, trying to gain back some ground with his father, maybe convince him out of throwing Evan out or whatever he was trying to do. Though he wanted more than anything to be out of this house, he didn’t have enough saved yet to leave and survive on his own. 

His dad didn’t move a muscle in the face of his panicked confrontation. 

“Pack. Your. Things. And get out of my house.” 

It was the complete lack of emotion in his eyes that finally got Evan moving, afraid of what his father might do if he tried to argue again. It was the first time he had really looked at his son in what must have been a year. Evan knew that they blamed him for Maddie leaving, too. 

He gathered up everything that he cared about — mostly just birthday cards from Maddie, his letterman jacket from when he was still on the team, all of the cash he kept hidden in his boot in his closet, and a few odds and ends of clothes. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t bet on coming back. He took one last look at his bedroom, shouldering his duffle bag and slamming the window closed behind him as he slid onto the roof. 

It was too bad his bike was probably in pieces at a junkyard or still on some backroad at least ten miles away. He would just have to walk to a train station or hitch a ride. 

He had only just wiggled himself down onto the grass beside the garage and hefted his bag back into his shoulder when he was met with his father and another man standing in front of the house. The man was nearly as broad as he was tall, sporting sunglasses and an army regulation buzzcut. 

They spoke a few more words to one another and Evan’s dad took one last look at his son, shaking his head before turning his back and walking straight back into the house, not looking back once and closing the door securely behind him. 

“Hey, fuckwad. You’re coming with me.” The Hulk spit at Evan, grabbing his shoulder hard enough to bruise before Evan could escape his grasp. Sputtering and trying to pull away like an angry chihuahua, Evan was thrown into the back of what was basically a cop car, the gate separating his seat in the back from the driver and the windows and doors locked from the inside. He desperately tried rattling the door open but soon the car was dipping with the other man’s weight in the driver’s seat and the car was moving. 

“Where are you taking me?” Evan asked, his voice sounding weak even as he felt adrenaline pumping through every part of his body. 

“Los Angeles.” The man huffed out around a lit cigarette, the smoke wafting through the back of the car and only enhancing Evan’s headache. 

“L.A.? What the fuck? Why?” 

“Hey. Don’t curse at me, kid. Based on what your parents have been putting up with, this seems like a pretty good deal to me.” He cracked the window, puffing the smoke out ineffectually. “But seriously, if you use that tone with me again, I will beat the shit out of you. You get one warning with me, that’s it. We have a long day ahead of us, so it’s best you learn to shut your mouth now. Just do what I tell you to and we’ll get along just fine.” His smile glinted at Evan in the rearview mirror. 

Evan clutched his bag tight to his chest and tried to pray for the first time in his life. 

Chapter Text

They got to the airport after what felt like four hours. Evan wasn’t counting, but he was restless in his seat. The man glared at him in the rearview mirror no less than five separate times. He eventually decided to play games on his phone (at full volume, it was the least he could do to irritate his driver). 

Evan was pulled from the backseat by the strap of his bag almost as soon as the car rolled to a stop. He hadn’t even considered whether he should alarm someone at the airport; it seemed silly to miss out on a free plane ride to L.A. and he figured he could just get rid of the guy as soon as they got there. Whatever his parents wanted him in L.A. for, he wasn’t doing it. He wanted to make a new life for himself out of the surveillance of his apathetic parents and better yet, somewhere warm. L.A. wasn’t the worst place to start. 

The guy even had Evan’s passport in his pocket. They got through security quickly enough and found their gate. They had an hour or so and Evan was thirsty. 

“Hey, so, can I go piss without your head over my shoulder?” He turned to the man lazily, trying to communicate his lack of urgency to lose him in the crowd. 

The man hummed and ran his slightly liver-spotted hand over his buzzed scalp. He shrugged. 

“Yeah, sure, kid. If you run though, I’ll find you.” He winked and pointed a finger at Evan’s face, pulling his own bag over his shoulder and heading toward a seat close to the boarding doors. 

Evan blinked. He swiveled his heel toward the bathroom and after, stopped at a coffee shop a few hundred feet from the gate. He was craving a treat, nothing too caffeinated to make him squirm on the plane, and nothing too bland to make it feel like he was punishing himself. 

The sound of an angelic choir bursted in song around Evan’s head as his eyes caught on the menu: a matcha latte. Perfect. It was honestly better to stock up now — he could do some initial wholesale selling to scope out the market as soon as he got there. This is just like when he bought packs of Sillybandz and sold each separate band for a dollar each on the playground. He expected that the matcha market in L.A would be more difficult to gage. 

The barista didn’t even flinch when Evan ordered 30 iced oat milk matchas and paid in cash. 

“Is that going to take a bit?” Evan asked, leaning on the counter while the barista counted his change. 

“No. We have a machine now.” They barely looked at Evan as they handed him a few dollars and pennies. He dropped them into the tip jar and stepped out of the order line. 

True to their word, 30 large matchas were placed on the pick-up table within two minutes. Evan was now grateful for the half-filled bag, pouring all 30 “for here" mugs into the loose contents of his nylon lined duffle. He didn’t have the hands to carry all of them otherwise, and it seemed too messy to bring them on the plane without lids. 

He pulled his now heavier bag back over his shoulder made his way to his gate. If the guy made some annoying comment about how Evan hadn’t run off, he swore he would alert someone to the fact that he was basically getting kidnapped as an adult. 

Fortunately, the man was silent, only appraising Evan and his slightly sloshing bag with half-opened eyes. He closed them again when Evan sat down two seats away, settling in to wait for boarding. If he took out a straw and unzipped his bag a little, who could really blame him — he had to test the product. 

The flight was short and the guy was asleep for the entire time. Evan was lucky he didn’t drink too much matcha or he would be vibrating in his seat until they landed. Even though it was meant to be a controlling move, he was grateful to have the window seat. He napped, only peaking an eye open every so often to look at the bright fluff of slow moving clouds. 

Chapter Text

The man groaned and pulled himself into a seated position when the landing announcement was made. He eyed Evan, who pretended he was still asleep against the open, very sunny window. 

He needed more time to think. He didn’t know how to get away or when he should make his move. He didn’t even know where they were going once they landed. The guy shifted a little in his seat and cracked open what had to be the loudest bag of airplane pretzels any airline had ever conceived. He crunched into each bite, making it sound like someone was ripping up an ancient tome right next to Evan’s ear. 

He sighed, opening his eyes and giving up the ghost. 

“Want a pretzel?” Evan’s travel partner asked at full volume, holding one out. He begrudgingly grabbed it, crunching down on it and turning back to stare out the window. He accepted three more pretzels by the time they landed and entered the rental car. The guy never left his side the entire time. 

Evan figured he would have another opportunity before they got to wherever they were going. If they arrived at a cult or a back-door organ donor facility, he figured he had no hope anyway. He was along for the ride for now. At least the guy let him sit in the passenger seat of the car this time. 

He did hope that wherever they were going, they had a fridge. The matcha-filled bag would only stay cold with ice for so long in the L.A. heat.

They drove for over an hour before anyone spoke, Evan was still fantasizing about his escape from the evil clutches of his parents. The guy cleared his throat and turned his head toward Evan but kept his eyes on the road.  

“Listen… I used to be like you. I mean, the military really shaped me up but I was the same type of mess. Didn’t know what I wanted from the world. Didn’t know what the world wanted from me.” He paused, glancing at Evan, who was silent. He sighed. 

“Look, your parents hired me to get you from Point A to Point B. L.A.’s not the worst place you could be. I’m not-I’m not your enemy. And I have nothing against you. I’m not saying we need to be friends, but I’ll still be in the area keeping an eye on you for a little while.” 

Evan huffed and looked at the guy, his shoulders sagging pitifully. The asshole laughed a little. 

“The name’s Lin Manuel Miranda, but you can call me Lin. I’d say it’s nice to make your acquaintance, but I’m not sure you’d agree.” He pulled his hand away from the steering wheel, presenting it loosely to Evan over the center console. 

Evan narrowed his eyes but put his hand out anyway, shaking it and saying nothing. The man (Lin) knew his name anyway. 

They were quiet for another minute until Lin stuck his hand in his pocket to retrieve a chocolate bar. 

“You want some Dubai chocolate? I got it duty free.”

For the first time that day, Evan found himself smiling. 

Chapter Text

Evan was still licking chocolate off of his fingers when Lin starting swiveling his head around looking for parking. Well, if Evan was going to be in L.A., he wasn’t going to walk around looking like a complete loser. He opened his bag by his feet, careful not to spill any matcha, and dug around for his other shoes while he slipped off his beat up Nike Slides. 

“Fuck,” Evan whispered to himself, pulling out his (previously) white Fila Disruptor 2 Wedges. They were basically dyed green. 

“Oh man, that’s too bad. You got another pair in there?” Lin asked, turning his head back to the road. 

Evan sighed. All he had was his Maison Margiela Tabi Country Mary Janes. They didn’t exactly give him the height that he needed, nor did they match his outfit, but he knew he had custom-made insoles somewhere in his bag and he was already wearing his tabi socks. He would find a way to bleach the Disruptors later — he never loved being 5’8” and a half. 

After another two hours of searching, Lin pulled the car into a parking lot right across from a local fire station. 

“Well, we’re here.” Lin clapped and rubbed his hands together, looking at Evan eagerly. He unbuckled his seat and started reaching for some paperwork in his bag. 

“Here, where? The firehouse?” Evan gazed outside his window with his bright cerulean orbs. 

“Yeah, kid. Your parents, uh, they want you to do some good. They are looking for someone to cook and clean here at station 118. Posted something in the paper, I guess. Your dad heard about it from a buddy at the police station. That’s all I know.” 

“Cooking? Cleaning? How much are they paying me for this?” The words were leaving his mouth but the whole thing was feeling more real than it had all day. Cooking? Evan? He wasn’t exactly Julia Child (she was 6’2”). 

“Yeah, about that. You aren’t exactly getting paid from what I understand… They’ll house you, feed you, clothe you. Any extras go straight to your dad to, uh, pay off ‘the headache of raising you.’ Sorry. I’m just the messenger on that one.” 

Evan let out a shaky sigh. He would find his way out this. It’s not like they would chain him to the railing like a dog, right? At least Lin was starting to look a little sympathetic. 

Lin spared him a glance before he exited the car, giving Evan another moment to collect himself.

He ran his hands down his face and blinked hard. He made sure his loudly sloshing, slightly dripping bag was zipped up tight before he pulled it up with him. He slammed his door shut and started walking alongside Lin when he saw him. There was a guy selling keychains from a table on their side of the street and he was shouting out to people passing. (Evan thought he heard Justin Timberlake’s hit single “SexyBack” play for a moment.)

“La-bu-bu! Come and get ‘yer La-bu-bu!” 

Evan jerked his head toward Lin and pulled him to a stop before they reached the man’s table. 

“Lin. I need to get a Labubu.”

“Evan, kid, we are already late-“

“No, Lin, you don’t get it. They won’t respect me if I don’t have a Labubu. This is Los Angeles, Lin. People are serious about their Labubus.”

Maybe it was the desperate look in his eyes, or maybe it was the extra height coming from his tabis, but Lin lifted his hands and dropped them back to his sides, shaking his head slightly. 

“Fine. Like I said, we’re already late. I guess one stop won’t hurt us.”

Relief coursing through him, Evan approached the street vendor. 

“Hey, man, I heard you’re selling Labubus?” 

It’s like Evan could feel the moment the guy decided to overcharge him. 

“Yeah. What’s it to you?” He was eyeing Evan wearily, his gaze snaking down Evan’s torso and legs until they landed on the tabis. Evan saw what he hoped was begrudging respect cross the man’s chocolate orbs. 

“I, uh, want to buy one,” He looked across the table and spotted a fluffy, red, kind of ugly little thing. “That one, please.” He pointed. The guy tilted his head at him and looked down at the ‘Bus on the table. 

“He’s meant to represent love. Or bring love, I guess. This is the one you want?” The man was already reaching for his Squarespace Reader. 

“Um, yeah. I guess.” Evan glanced at Lin, who was laughing at something on his phone. 

“‘Kay. That’s gonna be thirty-fi—“ He examined Evan for another moment. “Fifty bucks.” Evan pretended he didn’t hear the slip-up. He was new to town after all. He nodded in agreement. 

“Just press your card to the top here and then it’s going to ask you a few questions-“

“Um. Do you take cash?”

The man sighed and held his hand out. Evan gingerly placed his fifty dollar bill into it, their fingertips brushing each other’s warm palms. They both froze in place, their eyes locked on one another. A long moment passed. 

“Are you fucking ‘Blue Steel’-ing me right now, man?” Evan huffed, his brow furrowed, pulling back his hand and looking back down at the Labubu tableau.

The guy seemed to choke on his spit. He dropped his head and jerked his hand back into his pocket and roughly grabbed the ugly red Labubu from the table, this time handing it to Evan without touching him at all. 

“Thanks for your business.” He said, gruffly, packing up his goods and table as Evan and Lin slowly walked away, crossing the street. Evan glanced back once, but it was only because the man was so strange. 

Lin lunged for the door handle, pulling it open for Evan and giving him a huge grin, like he was trying to brace both of them for whatever was waiting for them inside. Evan clutched his fucked up Labubu in his hand, sweating a little. It would have been sooo embarrassing if he walked into his new job (job?) and didn’t at least have a Labubu. 

A tall, older man approached them with confident steps, crossing his arms as he stopped in front of them. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but his eyes were bright. 

“Hi, I’m Captain Nash, how can I help you?” 

Lin coughed a little into his fist, holding his other hand out to shake. 

“Nice to meet you, Captain Nash, I’m Lin. We spoke on the phone earlier.” 

“Right. So you must be-“ Nash’s eyes slid over him. “Evan.” 

He didn’t exactly look happy to see them, his eyes weighing Evan up and surely finding his petite frame wanting. Evan knew he wouldn’t stack up to their expectations, even if he was only cooking and cleaning. He avoided the Captain’s eye contact, staring instead at his feet (sensible black Maison Margiela Tabi Chelsea Boots, what was Evan thinking? Every moment here already felt like humiliation). 

Captain Nash sighed heavily, crossing his arms again. 

“Look, this isn’t a charity case, kid, you’re here to work. And we won’t tolerate any of the shit you pulled at home in Hershey, alright?”

Evan felt himself nod. His grip on his Labubu got tighter. Captain Nash sighed again. 

“Okay, Lin, will we be seeing you around? Do you want to stick around while Evan here get’s settled?”

“No, he’ll be good. Won’t you, Evan?” Evan didn’t look up. A seam may have popped on the idiot Labubu in his soggy grip. “I’ll come back in a few days. A week, max, to check up on things.” 

And just like that, after handing off some paperwork, another handshake with Captain Nash, and a pat on Evan’s shoulder, Lin was gone and Evan was more alone than he had felt all day. It’s not like he even liked Lin, but he didn’t want him to leave. 

“Evan? You with me, kid?” Captain Nash leaned down a little, snapping Evan out of the trance he was in (staring at Captain Nash’s tasteful, self-assured boots). Evan nodded again. Captain Nash sighed again. This seemed to be all they could do. 

“Come on. I’ll show you around and then you can get settled in. Your first shift starts at 06:00 tomorrow.”

Evan wouldn’t cry in front of these people. His Fila Disruptor 2 Wedges were green, his Labubu was clearly of poor quality and actively falling apart at the seams, and his parents had sold him to a fire station to cook and clean. 

He wouldn’t cry. And he decided he would get out of here no matter what it cost him. 

Chapter Text

Evan’s first night in the station wasn’t terrible by any means. Captain Nash told him that he would introduce Evan to the team in the morning and the water pressure in the showers wasn’t bad. The beds in the bunk room were pretty comfortable, too, and no one bothered him when he took the bed furthest from the door in the corner.

He woke up feeling like shit anyway, his stupid fucking Labubu watching over him and his Labubu-themed nightmares from the bunk railing. He wanted to punch the creature. He had never felt visceral rage like this before.

There were a few people already milling about in the loft space when Evan reached the top step at exactly 5:58 AM. He really didn’t want to give Captain Nash a reason to punish him with more work or disgusting chores and despite the dire ‘I was sold by my parents’ situation, Evan wanted to make a good first impression on the firefighters he would be seeing regularly.  

When he spotted Evan entering the room, Captain Nash spun around kitchen fridge. It looked like he was getting started on breakfast before Evan could (which he assumed he was suppose to do as the new hire). Should he have come up earlier? Admittedly, he was waiting in the bunkroom for at least 20 minutes before he decided it was safe and not weird. 

“Good morning, Evan,” Evan smiled lightly, but it was probably closer to a pained cringe. “Everyone, this is Evan Buckley-“

“Buck. You can call me Buck.”

He wasn’t sure what made him say it, he just knew he was in for a fresh start. He was thousands of miles away from the town he suffered in his whole life and the parents that abandoned (sold) him to a fire station. He didn’t want to be reminded of them and if Captain Nash ever called him “Evan” in that same disappointed tone his parents used, he was sure he would publicly lose it. 

Captain Nash smiled and nodded slowly, turning back to the other two people in the room. 

“Buck is going to be helping us out around here while we are missing a probie. He’ll mostly be doing some cooking and cleaning, but he’ll be around more often than not.” That was a nice way of saying that Buck was living at the station.

“Buck, meet our paramedic team, Howard Han and Henrietta Wilson.” 

They descended upon him like wolves. Wilson budged an arm out in front of Han to get to Evan first. Han huffed but stood behind her, popping the huge wad of gum in his mouth loudly. She stuck her hand out with an eager, almost apologetic smile. 

“Hi, Buck, you can call me Hen. Do not call me Henrietta. This here is Chimney. Do not ask why we call him that.” She was still shaking his hand. All he could do was nod and smile at her, hoping that his smile came across more friendly and excited than scared. 

“Alright, alright, don’t crowd him, he still has to meet Eddie.” Captain Nash called from the kitchen, coming around the counter. He was wearing an apron with a shittily edited photo of Harry Styles and former President Barack Obama making out with tongue sloppy style. He wondered if Captain Nash had another one that he wouldn’t mind lending out. 

Evan heard heavy steps on the stairs up to the loft — Eddie, he assumed. 

“DADDY’S HOME!” A man bellowed from halfway up the stairs. There was something about that voice…

(SexyBack started to play again.)

The man threw his uniform jacket on the couch as he made his way toward them, not yet looking up from his phone. 

“Good morning, kittens,” he sang, finally wedging his phone into his too-tight uniform pants back pocket and freezing as he made eye contact with Evan. 

“Good morning,” nearly everyone chimed back. 

“You motherfucker-“ Evan began under his breath, ready to face off with this evil man who sold him a fucked up Labubu on the street the day before. It was easy to blame every feeling Evan had in the last 24 hours on him. Hen and Chimney glanced wearily between them. 

“Evan Buckley, meet firefighter Eddie Diaz. Eddie, you’ll be seeing Buck here around a lot of the time. I scheduled all of his shifts alongside ours and I was hoping you could teach him a thing or two about L.A. and the station.” With that, Captain Nash slapped their shoulders and nearly skipped back into the kitchen. Evan was going to crash out. 

“‘Buck,’ really? Not Evan or Buckley-“ Eddie started, holding his hand out to Buck. He slapped it away dramatically. 

“Don’t call me that and don’t try to shake my hand. That fucking Labubu you sold to me — ridiculously overpriced by the way — is fucking busted. Give me a refund.” Buck stepped closer to Eddie, trying to be menacing (which was difficult because his tabis really didn’t give him much additional height).

Eddie, to his credit, immediately rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of him. He tilted his head and squinted at Buck, looking him up and down again. Buck had enough of it. 

“Nah, man, you probably threw it around or something. It’s beyond the bounds of normal wear and tear. And I don’t give refunds to assholes.” He smiled a little too smug for Buck’s tastes. 

Chim put his body between Buck and Eddie, but not to deescalate. 

“Oh shit, did you buy one of Eddie’s Lafufus?”

Buck saw red. 

“LAFUFU? IT’S A FUCKING LAFUFU? Are you kidding me?” 

Eddie put his hands up, still looking too smug, and stepped back from them; Buck's jaw and fists were starting to ache from tensing so hard. 

“Sorry, buddy. You didn’t read the fine print. No refunds, grow up!”

“You sold me a fifty-dollar fake Labubu and you want me to grow up?” Buck could feel his face heating up. Eddie only smiled wider. 

“Make sure you call it a Lafufu. For copyright reasons.”

Chim and Hen were going to need to hold him back. He lunged for Eddie, who dodged and ran around the couches and into the kitchen. He knew that Buck wouldn’t blow up at him in front of Captain Nash. 

“Dude, if you’re nice to him he’ll probably fix it up for free. I mean, fifty bucks is kind of crazy but he really does have a special gift when it comes to making Labubus. Ask him to sew it back up tomorrow, seriously. ” 

Hen nodded from his other side.

“All of us have one.” 

Buck seethed. 

“If we let you go, do you promise not to try to kill Eddie? We kind of like him around here.”

They slowly loosened their arms from where were holding him still like a desensitized horse. The startling pop of Chimney’s gum in his ear almost started him up again but he forced his shoulders to relax. Buck nodded, shaking his arms out as they let him go completely. 

“Hey, get over here! Bobby’s got an apron for ‘Buck.’” Eddie called from the kitchen, grinning and clearly unafraid of Buck’s rage. 

Buck huffed. He was looking forward to the apron. Maybe his would be Hobama themed, too. 

Captain Nash (Bobby rolled around in Buck’s head like a marble, but he wasn’t bold enough to try it out loud with the Captain yet) unveiled the apron on the counter as soon as he was close enough to see it.

It was white and badly stained and had text reading “I DID NOT HAVE SEXUAL RELATIONS WITH THAT WOMAN” and a huge black arrow pointing to the left. Buck’s disappointment was palpable with everyone leaning in so closely to look at the apron. 

“Yeah, uh, the guy that left that here was kind of obsessed with Bill Clinton. Tough luck, Buck.” Chimney patted him on his shoulder and spun away from the counter, finding a seat at the table with Hen. 

Buck ran his hand over his face roughly and glanced up at Eddie, who was staring at him intensely. As soon as they made eye contact, Eddie’s face cleared and that stupid grin popped up again. He winked at Buck as he left the kitchen. 

“Sybau,” Buck whispered after him.

Captain Nash squinted his eyes in confusion. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Um. What’s for breakfast?”

Captain Nash smiled and gestured Buck closer. 

Chapter Text

It turns out eggs weren’t supposed to be crunchy. Or rubbery. Or foamy, which honestly Buck should have received an award for because Bobby could not fathom how they got that way. 

At least he was ‘Bobby’ now. Buck felt like he and the 118 Captain had started a truce, or maybe they just started over — it was hard for him to hold Buck to the expectations his parents had set (an evil anti-Christ of a boy and a nuisance of a young adult) when Buck just kept apologizing. 

It helped too that it was a slow morning, and Chimney and Hen found every effort of breakfast absolutely hilarious, not that they would ever tempt putting it in their mouths. Eddie, on the other hand, volunteered to be the taste tester. 

Buck couldn’t tell if he was trying to encourage forgiveness or show off to Bobby, but based on his first impressions of the team, it didn’t seem like anyone needed to kiss Bobby’s ass. They all genuinely liked each other. 

Still, Buck was tempted to add too much salt or leave the shells in when he knew Eddie was going to have his fork ready as soon as the eggs were plated. With Bobby watching over his shoulder, he figured that wouldn’t go over so well. 

To Eddie’s credit, he barely made a face, no matter how bad the eggs were. A few times, Buck had to try them himself just to confirm that they were as gag-worthy as he anticipated, but Eddie never complained, just smiled patronizingly and said things like “it’s getting better” and “wow, this one wasn’t even that burnt!”

Buck really didn’t know what his game was. At least Bobby seemed patient. There should have been a word for more than patient or generous or having way too many eggs in the kitchen. Seriously, Buck thought there must have been a hoard of chickens in the cupboard because he had to have made at least 26 eggs and no one seemed worried about the grocery bill or wastefulness. It was concerning and environmentally distasteful to say the least. 

It wasn’t until Buck was finished cleaning up the kitchen (“You’ll get ‘em tomorrow, kid!” Bobby said while he cooked up five perfect Tamagoyakis) when he heard what Eddie really thought about his cooking. 

“I just don’t get how someone doesn’t know how to cook eggs.” Buck could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “I mean, how does someone go their entire life without being able to make eggs? Like, how do you get a nepo baby cooking and cleaning job and still be bad at it?”

Hen was pretty much ignoring Eddie and his rant while Chimney huffed a laugh every so often, barely looking up from texting on his phone. Still, Eddie couldn’t help himself but go on. 

“How do you get this job, which should be easy, by the way, and still manage to fuck it up? The guy’s only been here like three hours and it’s clear that he’s completely incompetent. I don’t get why Bobby hired him in the first place.”

It was at that moment that Chimney looked up and saw Buck standing behind Eddie, cleaning supplies in hand, headed to the bathroom. Buck couldn’t have guessed what his face was doing. Did he look devastated or just pissed? Or was it an absent, slightly off-putting look? According to the way Chimney’s eyebrows cringed and his chin-length bob wobbled around his face, it was probably more of the latter. Eddie noticed and whipped his head around way too fast. Buck hoped he got whiplash. 

Eddie at least looked a little ashamed, his mouth gaping open like a dead fish (but one of the really ugly ones with teeth and human eyes). 

Buck let out a heavy breath.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to my job poorly elsewhere.” 

He made sure to slam his shoulder into Eddie’s side when he passed. Eddie said nothing. 

Standing in the bathroom, one hand on a mop and the other holding a pail of soapy disinfectant, Buck reminded himself that he would not cry in front of these people. He could only put his headphones on and blast Daddy Yankee’s Gasolina until his eardrums popped or he started shaking his ass. Whichever came first, he didn’t care, only that he would do a passable job of cleaning a floor (“which should be easy”). 

It wasn’t like Buck wasn’t used to manual labor, but his body felt heavy by the time Bobby called for lunch time. When he told Buck that he wasn’t needed for cooking that afternoon, Buck didn’t bother going upstairs. He knew it wasn’t going to make Bobby like him more, and frankly he was starving, but he couldn’t stand the idea of facing any of them after that morning. 

Unfortunately, he still ran into Chimney in the doorway of the bunk room. 

“Hey, man, you might want to bring a mop in here too. There’s like, green milk kind of everywhere right now.” 

“Fuck,” Buck whispered, pushing past Chimney into the room to see the damage. He had somehow forgotten about the matcha in his bag with everything going on and the emotional trauma of the Lafufu yesterday. 

The slight drip that had begun in the airport had saturated into a full flood into the space around his chosen bunk, gradually slipping into the water feature in the center of the room. There was a 720 ounce pool of matcha coming from his bag. He was grateful the room wasn’t carpeted. 

Buck slowly lifted the canvas from the milky green floor. 

“Oh, shit. Were you trying to break into the L.A. matcha market?” Buck nodded slowly, unblinking and mourning from where he was staring at his dripping bag. “Man, day-old lukewarm airport matcha is the best, I’ll give you forty for an eight ounce if you still have any left in your bag.” 

Buck tilted the bag away from his belongings. There might have been ten or so ounces left. 

“Make it fifty and I’ll give you everything I have left in here.” 

Chimney hummed, tucking the dark bob behind his ears. 

“Alright, man.” He grabbed his mug and handed it to Buck to dip carefully into the bag. He squeezed it for every last drop, even wringing out his matcha-soaked socks. 

“You could have bargained harder, man, honestly. It’s a seller’s market right now. Don’t worry, you’ll get a grasp on the demand soon enough. Just don’t tell Hen that you gave the last cup to me.” With a wink and a delicate, savoring sip from his mug, Chimney glided out of the room. 

His pocket now fifty bucks heavier, Buck began mopping up the rest of the spill. He didn’t want too much of it reaching the fountain that took up over half of the bunk room space—he knew he would be forced to clean that, too. 

“Oh shit, what happened? Is that matcha?” A voice called from the doorway. 

Buck kept his back to Eddie, not caring to interact. He heard Eddie’s footsteps reach the spot a little to the left of him. 

“Seriously, that’s too bad. You don’t have anymore, do you? I’d kill for some matcha right now.”

“I’d kill you to leave me alone. Guess we can’t all get what we want,” Buck seethed from between gritted teeth, still trying to mop the matcha away from the glass frog and giant crane on the edge of the fountain. 

“Listen, man, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean for you to hear-“

“Didn’t mean for me to hear? Oh, fuck off.”

Eddie sighed, shuffling where he stood near Buck. His mopping was starting to get sloppy, he knew it, he just hoped Eddie would say something about it so he would have a reason to throw him into the bunk room ceiling waterfall pebble fountain. 

Almost like he heard his wish, Eddie stayed silent and continued to watch Buck do a shitty job of mopping the floor. He even stepped out of the way when Buck moved to the next spot, but instead of mopping the matcha away from the water feature, Buck found his tabi heel catch on a pebble. 

He slipped up and back, caught in a free fall as he headed head-first into three feet of color-changing water and pond-themed trinkets, before he felt a hand on his arm tugging him roughly back to standing. Unfortunately, one of his tabis still landed in the water. 

They stared at each other with wide eyes and heaving chests. Buck thought he might be in shock. He still hadn’t shaken off Eddie’s grip from his arm. 

Eddie dropped his hand quickly after, glancing down at Buck’s shoes. 

“Got any other shoes in that bag of yours?”

Buck sighed, his shoe squelching on the ground like Squidward as he sat heavily on his bed and pulled out his ruined Fila Disruptor 2 Wedges. 

“Man, you should have done one of those ‘what’s in my bag’ trends, but it’s, you know, all the loose, warm matcha for the resale thrift market. People would have loved that.” 

Buck glared up at Eddie as he pulled off his tabis and tugged on his bright green Disruptors. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his hair. Eddie tilted his head at Buck’s shoes and pulled out the Geek Bar in his pocket. 

“You know, they look kind of cool like that. It’s a good green. Like the Grinch,” he said through the fat plume of vape smoke. It smelled like roasted chicken if the chicken only had blue raspberry Jolly Ranchers to eat before it was condensed into an oil. 

Eddie was lucky that Buck liked the Grinch still, even after their brief summer fling and messy break up. He still wanted to kill Eddie, or at least push him into the bunk room fountain. 

“Man, just, I don’t know, leave? Please? I have work to do.” 

Eddie raised his hands up, hitting his Geek Bar one last time before he strutted out of the room.

(SexyBack was NOT playing, okay?)

Chapter Text

In his first week with the 118, Buck learned five things. Not one of them pertained to cooking or food, but Bobby was working diligently on that. 

1. Eddie had a son named Christopher. 
2. Chimney’s singing voice was angelic. He said that working at the firehouse was what he did in his free time. His real job, his “life’s purpose,” was spent busking and playing the demo songs built into his portable keyboard, which he pretended to be playing himself. He was wracking in exorbitant tips. 
3. Hen was maybe a vampire. Chimney phrased the allegation as an “active investigation” of which had no negative impact on their bestie-ism. From what Buck understood, this belief arose from one specific photo of the team that Hen was missing from—she said she was just sick that day, Chim said she was there next to him the whole time—and Chimney’s belief that Hen had never shown up in a mirror—she claimed she didn’t maintain the same level of vanity as the rest of the team and promptly rolled her eyes so far into the back of her head that she scared Chimney shitless. Chimney still had no explanation for Hen eating garlic, not burning in the sun, and being able to say “Christ” around her without a flinch. He even tried the “I know what you are” Twilight forest bit, but Hen claimed he was being homophobic. (Bobby had no comment on the ongoing situation, but Buck saw him crossing himself with his rosary on occasion.)
4. Bobby was probably the father he never had. Buck was unwilling to look into this feeling too hard. He also accidentally called Bobby “Dad” twice, but no one brought it up afterward; they were generous like that. 

To be completely Frank, Buck was content. To be completely Buck, the Labubu situation was still kind of a downer.

Buck got along with everyone on the team like a well-oiled automated machine—everyone except for maybe Eddie, but that really wasn’t Buck’s fault. It wasn’t his fault that Eddie stared at him sometimes, like Buck had done something significantly wrong, and smiled at Buck with an conniving, horror-movie grin. Eddie had too many teeth, Buck decided. And a perfect face for a mustache. 

Yesterday, the food lesson was wood-fired Neapolitan pizza. Apparently the wood-fire pizza oven was a request made by Bobby as soon as he joined the 118, and due to his underground connections, it happened very quickly. Buck couldn’t fathom why a specialty 23,000-dollar wood-fire oven would be a good idea in a fire station, but Hen gave him a dirty look when he began to ask. He nearly lit the whole station aflame despite Bobby’s constant surveillance, but Buck counted his half-charred pizza as a win. 

He had no idea what to expect when he arrived in the loft the following day, but it definitely wasn’t Booby turning him away from the kitchen because he had the day off.

“Wait, like, the whole day? Do you have the day off, too?” Buck asked Bobby hopefully. 

Bobby shook his head and rested his hand on Buck’s shoulder. 

“Sorry, kid. I’ll be sure to schedule the next one so we have the same day off and we can spend the day doing whatever you want.” 

Buck wondered what Bobby would do if he said he wanted to go to the waterpark or Sky Zone or something like that. Maybe he wanted to go to a ball game. Maybe he wanted to play little league and let Bobby cheer him on from the sidelines and throw his hat when Buck was playing in the dandelions instead of watching for the ball. In this daydream, Buck would obviously hit the winning home-run ball and Bobby would lift him on his shoulders and tell him he was proud of him. In this same daydream, Buck also went pro and then wasted his career away through a steroid/chewing tobacco combination scandal. He honestly didn’t know much about baseball.

“What am I supposed to do all day?” He knew he sounded pitiful, but he couldn’t help his whiney tone or mournful, wet blinks at Bobby. 

“Go explore L.A.! Meet new people, get lunch, see the Hollywood sign!” 

Buck sighed and hung his head. He didn’t really have the money to just do whatever on his day off. Buck wasn’t technically being paid and he wasn’t sure if anyone knew that. All of their paychecks were online, and he was pretty sure his parents worked it out so that only they had access to the account.

“Hey, I know! Eddie’s off today, too. He came in, I have no idea why, but you should spend the day hanging with him!” And with a slap to his back, Booby sent Buck stumbling over to where Eddie was standing near the stairs. If Buck hadn’t known better, he would have thought Eddie was waiting for him. 

He was wearing nice, dark jeans, the overall kind, and a bright yellow long sleeve shirt. The yellow looked kind of good on him. 

“Bello,” Buck said, watching Eddie squeeze the life out of his Geek Bar. He blew out a fat plume in Buck’s direction. “Wanna, um, hang out today?” 

Eddie’s submissive brown orbs widened. 

“Yeah, man, sure. I just, uh, I have to pick my kid up from school later,” he glanced at Buck out of the corner of his eye, “but, uh, you could come with me? If you want? No pressure, of course.”

Buck outwardly grimaced. The conversation was physically paining him. 

“Yeah… Totally… I’d love to meet Chris…” He scuffed his boot on the linoleum floor. 

“Ok. Cool. Yeah. Let’s hang out. You wanna get lunch? My treat.” Eddie offered, waiting for Buck before he started moving down the stairs. 

“Sure, wherever is good with me.” 

Eddie nodded and gulped heavy and loud like a cartoon character. This guy was unreal. 

Chapter Text

They didn’t speak as they hopped into Eddie’s car. Eddie’s Spotify immediately connected to the speakers and started playing JoJo Siwa’s cover of “Bette Davis Eyes.” It played once, and then repeated. When it played for a third time, Eddie turned the music off and they sat in silence again. 

“So. Where are you taking me?” Buck flipped his phone around in his hand, thinking about his Clash of Clans village.

“Oh, right,” Eddie glanced at Buck quickly, “The cliffs.”

Buck sat up a little straighter. 

“Oh… that’s… neat, Eddie.”

“For lunch, I mean,” his head darted toward Buck again as he flipped on his turn signal, “I thought we could go hunting for uni. You know, sea urchin. The tide is low this time of day. I, uh, have an annual Sport Fishing license.” 

Buck nodded absently, watching the ocean crash on the beach nearby. Bobby taught him how to prepare sea urchin this week; he had probably already eaten at least 25 uni all by himself in the last three days alone. It kind of felt like work, not “Eddie’s treat,” but at least it was something he knew how to do.

After a short walk from the parking lot, Buck found himself barefoot with his jorts rolled up in the Pacific tide pools, leaning down with his gloved hands in the water. Eddie wore wader overalls on top of his normal overalls. 

They collected only eight and a half sea urchin by the end of their twenty minutes searching. Buck cut his ankle on a stray mussel only five minutes in and Eddie was sweating badly through his two layers of overalls and rolled-up long sleeve yellow shirt. 

It wasn’t that Buck was having a bad time, but Eddie’s aura was stressing him the fuck out. He fluttered around and kept asking if Buck was having fun and would check his watch every two minutes. Buck chose to spend most of the time staring out at the water morosely and thinking about his parents. 

“That’s probably enough, don’t you think, Buck?” Eddie asked, panting, as he added what looked like a rock to their urchin bucket. 

“Yeah. It’s enough.” Buck responded, his voice nearly lost to the waves crashing as he gazed out into the blue mist. 

They walked back to the car, their bucket held between them, each of them holding one side of it even though it was extremely light. Why do a task as one person when it can be done by two? 

“Where now?” Buck asked, settling into the passenger seat. 

A moment prior, he sat in the backseat and made a taxi joke. Eddie didn’t laugh so much as he cringed. They were both trying in their own way. 

“We could go to my house? Do lunch there?”

“Okay.” 

They went back to being silent and Buck went back to looking out the window. Eddie only played “Bette Davis Eyes” three more times for the rest of the drive, which Buck thought showed impressive restraint. 

Eddie’s house was exactly the way a house should be. It was a little messy, a bit cluttered, and had a few framed photographs of unsmiling Victorian children. Buck heard a ghostly shriek coming from the attic only once since coming inside.

It was a respectable home, something that must have been hard to maintain as a single father and an idiot.

Eddie shucked the urchin and handed them to Buck to prepare for eating. It really didn’t take long for how little they had, but they got into a smooth rhythm. Eddie took the rice he made that morning out of the fridge, avoiding Buck’s eyes as he did so, and they finished plating their small meal together. 

Buck wasn’t sure what to make of all of this. He was mostly thinking about Clash of Clans. 

Eddie turned from him and took a deep, desperate inhale of his vape, his face turning red as he held it in his lungs. He glanced sidelong at Buck, the vein popping on his forehead. The moment felt too intimate. 

Buck looked away. 

They made quick work of the uni and the following dishes. The uni itself was fine—Bobby would have done a better job, Buck thought. 

After another few moments of silence, Buck inhaled slow and bolstered some bravery. 

“Do you, you know,” Eddie looked at him eagerly, nodding, “have a WiFi password?”

Eddie’s face dropped and he gazed out the window above the sink. 

“We don’t have WiFi. It’s bad for your brain.” Buck leaned in to hear him better. “I’ve felt much stronger ever since I switched to 5G cellular and threw the WiFi box out of the house.” 

“Oh. Huh. Okay,” he scrubbed a hand over his face, “can I use your phone then?”

Eddie didn’t even stop looking out of the window dramatically as he pulled his phone from his front overall pocket, typed his password in wrong twice before he got it right, and handed it to Buck. 

“Thanks,” Buck muttered, immediately pulling open the App Store and searching for Clash. Eddie already had it downloaded. 

“Chris loves that game,” Eddie explained from over Buck’s shoulder. 

“He sounds cool. Cool people like this game,” Buck whispered, logging into his account and checking on his middling village.

“Yeah! Chris is the coolest. Seriously, I think you two would get along.” 

Buck hummed, his face only inches away from the screen as leaned his elbows on the table. 

“Why don’t you play it on your phone anyway? Do you need a charger? I have a supercharger that will get you above a 100-percent charge in less than twelve seconds if you can believe it. It once told me I had 138-percent. You can only use it three or four times before your phone battery blows up, though.” 

He was rummaging in the kitchen drawers for it. Buck glanced wearily at him, flipping his phone face-up on the table and pulling it closer to himself. His background image of Glee’s Sue Sylvester and Will Schuester in a passionate embrace lit up on the lock screen. 

“Nah. I just can’t exactly afford cellular right now.” 

Eddie gravitated closer to Buck, like it was inevitable. 

He whispered, “I love Suester.”

There were only six or so inches between their noses. Buck swallowed harshly. 

“Should I put on some music?” Eddie asked nervously, turning away and approaching his novelty music box selection. Buck knew he just wanted to hear “Bette Davis Eyes” again. 

“Maybe after we pick Chris up, you guys can play Clash together and I’ll order dinner for the three of us?”

Buck smiled; saying yes to Eddie was surprisingly easy. 

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry about the Labubu, seriously. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot—“ Eddie began, pulling into the pick-up line in front of his son’s school. 

“No-no, Eddie, it’s cool. We’re good,” Buck interrupted, believing what he was saying.

Eddie smiled. Buck was finding that he would say a lot of things just to get Eddie smiling like that. 

“Ok. Well, I would still give you a refund.”

“How about you just buy dinner and we can call it even?”

They smiled at each other again. This was getting embarrassing, even for Buck. A knock on the window alerted them to Christopher. 

Once he was settled into the backseat, Eddie started the introductions. 

“Chris, this is my son, Buck.  Buck, this is my co-worker, Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Firefighter Chris,” Buck began, holding back his laugh. 

“And nice to meet you,” Chris responded, giggling quietly. 

“Aw, come on, guys, you know what I meant!” Eddie complained from the driver’s seat. 

“Are you a firefighter like my dad?” Chris asked, pulling at his seatbelt to get closer. 

Buck and Eddie glanced at one another. 

“Um, not quite, I mainly, uh, take care of the firehouse. You know, make it pretty and comfortable for the firefighters and the visitors!” 

Chris nodded thoughtfully. 

“Can we listen to TROLLS World Tour?” He asked, looking out the window at the houses and pavement passing by. 

Buck loved Trolls. 

To Eddie’s chagrin, Christopher and Buck sang the soundtrack all the way home.

Once they entered the house and took off their shoes and Chris left to go to his room before dinner, Buck turned to Eddie, a cheeky grin on his face. 

“Do you regret introducing us yet?”

Eddie paused, his smile disappearing. 

“No. Not yet."

Buck’s smile dropped too, his face getting warm. 

They ate dinner peacefully. Eddie was right, Buck and Chris did get along. Chris was cool. Buck even managed to drop a few appropriately and nonchalantly placed phrases using “skibidi toilet,” “Ohio,” and “Fanum tax.” Chris didn’t seem impressed as much as he appeared quietly pleased, like Buck had kissed his ring and named him Godfather of his Catholic newborn. 

Buck was desperately trying to play it equally cool, but he could tell that Chris could see right through him. He was sweating at his temples and he nearly dropped his water glass every time he took a sip. 

By the time Chris asked to be excused from the table, Eddie and Buck stood at the sink, washing the three dishes they used for serving the pizza as slowly as possible. 

“So-“ Buck began.

“Do you want a beer or something?” 

Buck dried his hands on the towel. 

“Bet. W Rizz. Aura points, let him cook.”

Eddie blushed.

They were each about to open a second beer when Buck realized he had no way of getting back to the firehouse. Eddie saw him check his Oyster Perpetual Deepsea Rolex watch. 

“Hey, do you want me to call you an Uber back home to wherever you’re staying?”

“Oh, yeah, that would be great, man. Um, back to the station would be great.”

“What? Don’t you want to go straight home? I could just drive you right now, actually. We have work tomorrow, after all. ”

“Right, uh, if you don’t mind, just the firehouse would be great.”

Buck wasn’t sure why he didn’t just tell Eddie that he was officially living at the firehouse. He didn’t want to explain why he was in L.A., it was too embarrassing, and he figured everyone must know some version of it anyway. He would rather let Eddie believe that he was staying with a friend on the nights he wasn’t at the firehouse—not the truth—which was that he retreated to the vents above the bunk room where he quietly practiced his Jimmy Fallon laugh impression or shadowboxed or scrolled through his old messages with his ex. 

It was better in the long run that he was vague. He didn’t want to get too close or invested with anyone anyway, since he was planning on getting out as soon as he could. 

Lin was likely going to visit tomorrow and Buck needed to be on his best behavior until his parents forgot that he existed in the first place. If he left now, they would probably call him in as missing, which complicated things. He was also hoping to steal his passport back from Lin. 

He was already cutting it close with Bobby and now maybe even Eddie and the rest of the team. It was starting to feel like a big family to Buck, not even just in the weird, shameful capitalist retail job way to make Buck feel bad for taking a bathroom break but in a serious, dysfunctional Thanksgiving way. After a day and one week, the firehouse felt more like home than the house he lived in for nearly 22 years. 

Even ignoring Bobby and the current, alarming developments with Eddie and Chris, Buck found himself laughing with Chimney too much and asking for Hen’s advice in his Clash game. He cared about what they thought of him. He cared about them.  

He remembered the last time he got close to someone like this and it didn’t work out. He glanced at his watch again and traced the edge of the frame with the pad of his finger. He felt Eddie’s eyes on him. 

It was a gift from the same ex. The guy who broke Buck’s heart, not because he was a bad person, but because his heart was too big. 

Last summer, Buck was working at the carwash on the Topless Team. Buck wasn’t sure if he loved the job, but he knew that it was something he was good at. 

The boss noticed quickly that Buck had an understanding of cars and a passion to get under the hoods. 

Working with the Mod Team for Hershey’s Faster and Furiouser competitions became his day-to-day; topless car washing was a weekend thing. 

This is where Buck met the Grinch. It turns out that they had met before, only online. 

Buck was selling feet pics for months prior, and he had a few regular customers with special requests. The Grinch was one them. His favorite was 0.5x pictures of Buck’s toes while his entire foot was covered in peanut butter. It was memorable for Buck, at least. 

One night, the Grinch came in through the carwash and recognized Buck from his profile picture. They spoke for a few minutes about the Grinch’s car and he returned the following night for engine mods. He was an incredible racer and number one in the county for downhill driving. 

He told Buck then where he knew him from, and Buck found himself incredibly charmed. There was something about his green hairiness and actively decaying teeth that Buck wanted to see more of, so they started dating. 

Rather, Buck called it dating. It turned out that the Grinch was looking for something “a little more casual.” 

They spent another month or so in a “sugar baby” situation, where the Grinch bought him his Deepsea Rolex watch, the Maison Margielas, and a few bottles of niche luxury perfume. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough for Buck.

Buck realized he wanted something real. It didn’t matter that the Grinch was at least forty years older than him, or that he was super weird about Buck offering to host Christmas with his family. 

It also didn’t matter because the Grinch wasn’t “ready for something real.” He said it as gentle as he could, Buck could tell. Buck also believed him when he said that he genuinely cared about Buck, but he couldn’t give him what he wanted. 

The Grinch explained that cuffing season was like the opposite time of year for him because he needed to return to his home in the mountains come late autumn. He would actually turn evil if he didn’t go back and Buck knew that he couldn’t do that to him. Buck was also afraid of heights and mass garbage dumps, so it didn’t feel right to commit to a Hades/Persephone situation with 6 months out of the year in the Grinch’s hometown. 

They both wanted what was best for each other, so they split. 

It was easier to think about him now, the heartbreak was no longer jagged and raw, but Buck remembered what that felt like. He didn’t think he was ready to go through it again. 

It was better he created a little more distance between him and the 118. 

“Um, the firehouse?” Eddie’s eyes widened, “I mean, no pressure or anything, but if we work at the same place at the same time tomorrow, do you want to just stay for the night and I’ll drive us in the morning?” 

“Oh,” Buck wiped his palms on his jorts. 

“Again, no pressure, maybe it’s weird to invite you over when you only just met my son tonight and me like a week ago, but I just though it might make more sense and-“

“Eddie. Thanks. That sounds like a pretty good idea. That way we can finish these beers,” Buck nodded at him a took a sip of his bottle. Maybe protecting his heart was overrated. 

Eddie smiled and blushed, taking a long sip from his own bottle. 

They started and didn’t finish their third bottles, leaving them to perspire in the Glee character-themed coasters on the coffee table as they trudged to Eddie’s room together. 

Eddie was nice enough to offer Buck his extra long collared sleep shirt and dangling nightcap. He pulled out the trundle underneath his twin bed, turned on a video with two hours of white noise, loud Wilhelm screaming only, and curled up under the sheets. 

He whispered in Buck’s general direction, “It drowns out the screams from the attic.”

“That makes sense. Goodnight, Eddie,” Buck whispered back. 

“Goodnight, Buck.”

Buck had probably never slept so well in his life. He knew he honk-shooed loud, but maybe Eddie, a chronic “mimimi-er,” wouldn’t mind. 

Chapter Text

No one commented on Buck and Eddie coming into the station together, but Bobby did give Buck his classic, knowing look. He tried desperately not to blush. 

The morning’s breakfast lesson was Phineas and Ferb character-shaped pancakes. Buck made a pristine shape resembling Buford. 

“Bone apple teeth,” he sang as he placed the plate in front of Hen. Buford was her favorite—he was just misunderstood and much smarter than anyone gave him credit for. 

“Aw, Buck, you shouldn’t have, I would have taken a Perry, too!”

Buck waved her off, smiling wide as he made his way back to Bobby. 

He started pouring out a wonky Little Suzy for Chimney when Bobby cleared his throat. 

“So, Buck. I thought maybe you could come to a scene with us if you wanted,” Buck opened his mouth to protest the timing, “Lin told me he would stop by after the shift, don’t worry about that right now.”

“What would I be doing on the call?” 

Bobby smiled and patted Buck on the shoulder, taking over at the stove and flipping Little Suzy over to cook on the other side. 

“I was hoping you would watch. Maybe learn a little something about what we do here, learn what makes your job so important. Maybe it would even inspire you to… look into the academy yourself?”

“Oh, Bobby, I don’t know, I’ve never thought about-“

“You don’t need to commit to anything right now, Buck. And hey, crazier things have happened. I just wanted to let you know that you would have a team to back you up if you decided you were interested… Besides, you would need to promise me that you would stay out of the way today, I don’t want to have to worry about you becoming a victim.”

Buck laughed as Bobby plated Little Suzy and handed her off Chimney. 

“Okay, yeah, sure. That beats cleaning the rafters again.”

“You’re not going up there to clean them, right?” Bobby studied the rafters and then Buck’s face. 

“Umm… no… of course not… I just do what everyone does, which is… uh…”

The shriek of the alarm cut off his fumbling. 

“Alright, everyone, let’s go! Breakfast later!” 

Chimney groaned, carrying most of his pancake in his mouth down the stairs like a dog. Hen slid down the pole; Buck thought she was so cool. 

He didn’t have any uniform to put on other than what he was wearing, so he was in the engine first. Eddie still found a way to sit so close to him that their thighs touched. 

“What’s up, chicken butt? Why are you coming with us?” Chimney asked Buck not unkindly, snapping his gum. 

“He’s just here to watch, maybe keep the engine warm depending on the situation,” Bobby called from the front. 

Buck glanced past Eddie out the window. This was kind of anxiety-inducing, maybe even exciting if he was willing to admit it to himself. The only accidents he had ever been present for were related to him making stupid decisions on his motorcycle. He had no idea what to expect. Maybe the lesson would find him. 

They pulled into the parking lot of a skate park and everyone immediately filled out of the engine. Buck, the first one in, was also the last out. 

“LAFD, make room,” Buck heard Bobby say from inside the skate park bowl, “Where does it hurt?” Bobby asked the older teen in fetal position at the bottom. 

Buck slid into the deep basin, following the rest of the team. 

“Dude, it’s my shin, it’s fucked,” he groaned, cupping his leg with both hands. 

“Can you take your hands away and show us what’s going on there?” Bobby knelt toward the kid. 

He cringed and pulled his hands away quickly, squeezing his eyes shut tight and leaning his head back on the pavement. Buck immediately understood why he didn’t want to look at it. The word mangled came to mind. 

“Can you tell us your name?” Bobby waved Hen forward while Eddie held back the crowd growing around them. 

“Tyler. How bad is it?” He looked at Hen as she gently prodded at the skin around his protruding bone. 

She managed to smile and cringe at him. 

“You’ll walk again, Tyler. You didn’t do anything too major. Did you hit your head?”

“No, it’s just my leg.” He grit his teeth. Buck was glad there wasn’t too much blood—that would be hard to get out of the skate park pavement.  

“Eddie, Chim, go grab the gurney. Let’s get Tyler out of here.” Bobby stepped toward the standing tripod and phone set up next to them. “Is this yours?” He asked with some amount of knowing judgment. 

Tyler looked over and groaned a little more. 

“Fuck. Can you turn that off? I was live streaming.”

Bobby didn’t glance twice at the phone, just handing it off to Buck to fix. There were over 200,000 viewers. Buck couldn’t help but wave before he exited and turned the phone off. 

“I was trying to do the Benson Boone flip, but you know, while on my board.”

Bobby and Hen glanced at each other. 

“Oh, that’s sick! Did you land it? Or-“ Buck blurted out, shuffling closer. 

“No, man,” he smiled bittersweetly, gazing up at the sky before he closed his eyes again, “but I was close. I was so close.”

“That’s aura, dude.” Buck nodded at him. 

“Thanks, man,” he sighed, smiling through his pain. 

Eddie and Chim carefully loaded him onto the gurney and pulled him out of the bowl, heading to the back of the ambulance. 

Buck took one last glance around the bottom of the bowl and turned to Bobby and Hen. 

“This is just like that scene from Pitch Perfect in the empty pool,” he gestured around them excitedly, “are we about to do a riff-off right now?”

Hen shoved her elbow into Buck’s ribs. 

“You shouldn’t have brought that movie up. Me? I’m a regular fan. The rest of the team—regular fans. Bobby, though? He’s a bit… extreme,” she whispered and then quickened her step, trying to get away from Buck and Bobby as fast as possible. 

“Oh, Buck, oh, man, Pitch Perfect? The original 2012 a cappella masterpiece? Zoo-Wee Mama. Let’s talk more about this in the engine-“

“Buck’s with us in the ambulance, Bobby, sorry. He’s going to keep Tyler’s mind off things while we make our way to the hospital. Right, Buck?” Hen raised her eyebrows significantly in Buck’s direction. 

“Right, yes. We can talk about it later, Bobby!” 

Bobby’s shoulders drooped a bit but he also looked proud, maybe. Buck was not overly familiar with that emotion directed toward him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered to Hen as he hopped into the ambulance. 

“Don’t thank me yet, this is just delaying the lecture,” she smiled and nudged him again, this time softer. Chimney closed the doors and they started moving. 

“I can tell you have it,” Tyler said to Buck as soon as he sat down on the ledge across from the gurney. 

“Have what?” 

“The shine.”

“Um,” Buck looked at Chim, who shrugged, “The shine?”

“Yeah, you know, the right energy to be a creator—a performer for an audience. You could totally be an influencer.”

Buck laughed, “What would I make videos about?”

The kid sighed and looked at the ceiling of the moving vehicle. Chim and Hen fussed with the bandages on his shin. 

“I mean, your job is pretty interesting, right? First video could be, like,” he let out a long drawn-out uhhh, “‘throwing pieces of wood at my boss while he tells me which part of the house it was from?’”

The ambulance rocked side to side. Tyler winced. 

“Yeah, okay, Tyler. I’ll try it. Keep your eye out for me online, alright?”

Tyler nodded, clearly in pain. 

Buck sniffled, and then sniffed the air again. 

“Bro, is that Carnicure by Marlou?”

Tyler jolted, only Hen’s hand on his shoulder keeping him laying down on the stretcher. 

“Dude! Yes! Normally people just think I smell like a horse!”

“I totally get that, I love niche fragrance houses. Most people don’t have real taste, huh?”

“Hen, he smells like shit, right? Like actual shit? I’m not imagining that?” Buck heard Chimney loudly whisper. 

Hen nodded eagerly out of the corner of his eye. 

“Hey, bro, can you live stream this shit for me? Would be kind of tight for my followers to see me in the back of an ambulance,” he glanced nervously at Hen and Chimney, “if that’s alright with you guys, or like, legal or whatever.”

Hen let out a deep sigh and waved her hand at Buck. He laughed and pulled out Tyler’s phone. 

“Can you make it seem serious, too? Like maybe I won’t make it?”

Buck handed the phone to him to set up. 

“Sure, man.”

Buck’s finger was pressed to the Live button when Tyler’s eyes got big. 

“Wait. If we’re all back here, who’s driving the car?”

Chapter Text

The rest of the shift was normal, for the 118 at least. Buck still had some cooking and cleaning to do so he stayed behind for the next few calls. He cleaned the rafters (climbing and crawling up so he could drag his mop-shirt along the dusty beams) and scrubbed the rocks in the bunk room fountain. 

The team came back intermittently, letting Buck feed them and taking turns cleaning the engine and themselves. Midday they all came back covered in a mysterious green goo, similar to ectoplasm from the Ghostbusters. Chimney offered to tell Buck about the call. He didn’t want to know. 

It didn’t help that he was starting to sweat and shake every time he glanced at the clock. Lin was due to show up at the end of the shift and Buck couldn’t find enough tasks to do around the station that would fill the time. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what he was afraid of, just that he knew Lin coming wouldn’t bode well for his reputation. Buck assumed that most of the team knew a little bit about where he came from and his situation because no one ever asked him. Sometimes he would walk into a room and Hen and Chim would be whispering between them, only to stop as soon as he was in listening range. They always gave him extra bright smiles and hellos when that happened. 

“You good, Buck?” Eddie asked, wiping green goo off of the engine while Buck practically vibrated in place nearby. 

“Yeah, yeah, just, you know, Lin—he’s coming anytime now.” He paced around Eddie, too nervous to even be of any help in cleaning. His hands were shaking. 

Maybe Lin would report back to his parents and they would get him shipped back home. Maybe he would be forced to go work for his dad or maybe they would send him somewhere further away this time. Maybe he would be sent to live with a great aunt he had never heard of or met, and she would be evil and try to cook him in her oven. Maybe Lin would warn him that his parents acquired a killer for hire to just get rid of Buck so they didn’t have to think about him anymore. 

He was spiraling and he could do nothing about it. 

“Lin?” Eddie scrubbed a little harder at the side panel, moving his head side to side to consider the clean shine of the metal.

“You know. My, uh, watcher? Babysitter feels weird, I don’t know what else to call him, though-“

“Watcher?” Eddie scoffed, looking up at Buck, who was still pacing, “What do you mean, watcher? Is he some kind of, like, creep? Do you have a stalker, Buck?” His eyes got more serious, but he was still lightly laughing, like any of this was funny.

“No, no, um, Lin is more just keeping… tabs? On me?” Buck glanced at the clock again. Bobby came out of his office and started walking toward them. 

“What does that even mean-“ Eddie started, standing up and setting his cloth down. 

The door to the station banged open. Lin entered. 

“Evan! Buddy! How’s it going?” He was smiling. Buck flinched at his given name, becoming immediately aware of where the sweat stains were darkening around his armpits. Buck was sweating and panicked and Lin was here and smiling at him. 

He wrung his hands and tried at a pained smile, looking at Bobby as he came to stand next to him. 

“Lin, nice to see you,” Bobby said very seriously, holding his hand out to shake. 

“Captain Nash, you as well. Evan isn’t causing too much trouble is he? I don’t want to have to give a bad report to the Buckleys!” He said it so jovially, like all this was a joke. Buck would have been angry if he didn’t feel so ashamed and scared. 

“No, ‘Evan’ here has been the perfect employee. Gets all of his work done, doesn’t complain. Bobby smiled encouragingly down at Buck, “Should we continue this conversation in my office?”

“No, it’s fine, this really won’t take long, I’d hate to keep you from going home to your family,” Bobby and Buck both cringed, “And really? Man, his parents are going to be shocked by that. Maybe I can convince them to send you a bit of an allowance, huh, Evan?” Lin grinned, leaning over to bump his elbow into Buck like they were in on it together. 

“We pay everyone here fairly,” Bobby looked uncomfortable for the first time since the conversation started, “I know it’s L.A., but it’s not like Buck has to pay for a place to stay or food or clothes-“

“Oh, no, I meant since the Buckleys get Evan’s paycheck sent to them directly-“

“What?” Eddie demanded, stepping next to Buck after surely listening to the entire humiliating conversation behind him. 

The station was suddenly so quiet that if a pin dropped it would sound like a bomb going off. Even Lin paused for a moment, suddenly grasping the tension coursing through everyone. 

“Eddie, go get cleaned up to go home. Buck, why don’t you go take stock of the fridge, we might need to go shopping soon. Lin, how about you join me in my office and we can clear up a few things?” Bobby was all business, which Buck was grateful for. 

They all nodded, going their separate ways, but not before Lin pulled Buck aside.

“They are treating you okay, right? You aren’t getting ruffed up or anything here?”

Buck urgently shook his head. 

“No, they’re uh,“ he swallowed harshly, “They’re nice.”

Lin nodded seriously and turned back to follow Bobby to his office. 

Nice was too simple and small. Nice was the cinnamon Buck’s new favorite barista added to his coffee without asking when he picked up the group order in the morning. Nice was when he received a plain birthday card from Maddie and Doug a month late. Nice didn’t really cut it. 

Buck felt like he belonged for the first time ever, and he was willing to start praying just to make sure it stayed that way. Lin, or rather, Buck’s parents, could mess all of that up with a single word. 

Bobby found Buck in front of the closed fridge, staring blankly at his smudged reflection in the door. He jolted in place when Bobby placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Bobby, I swear I was going to take inventory, I just got-“

“Buck. It’s okay. Lin just left, he sends his regards.” Bobby leaned his head closer to Buck and lowered his voice, “Were you ever going to tell me that you weren’t getting paid?”

“Buck’s not getting paid?” Chimney shouted from behind Bobby, as though he manifested to bring further attention to Buck’s public humiliation and, perhaps, incoming execution. 

Bobby sighed, dropping his hand from Buck’s shoulder and turning his disapproving glare to Chimney. 

“Can I just,” Buck took a breath, bringing both of their attention to him, “Can I explain? To everyone? Just give me a chance, please-“

“Of course, Buck,” Chimney said surprisingly earnestly. 

“Okay, team, let’s go sit on the couches. Buck can explain there, if that’s okay with him?” 

Buck nodded. 

“I’m going to wrangle up Hen and Eddie, I’ll be right back.” 

With that, it was just Chimney and Buck walking to the couches and waiting for everyone else to show up. Buck found himself starting to sweat again and his tabis were itching to pace. 

Perhaps too soon, the whole team was silently waiting for him. He didn’t feel like he had enough time to come up with a story that made him look sane or well-adjusted, but he took a deep breath and started to tell it anyway. 

After the long, sordid tale, there were questions. Hen asked about his sister and her absence, which he didn’t have a very happy or satisfying explanation for. Chim asked about his legal standing and why his parents had so much control over his life. Eddie requested clarity on the situation Buck was in at the station. 

“So, just to be clear, you aren’t getting paid,” he counted the problems on his fingers, “you live in the station, and you didn’t choose to come here?”

Buck nodded and cringed. Eddie leaned onto his knees and placed his head in his hands. 

Bobby was silent through the entire thing, only moving his eyes occasionally between Buck’s pained face and waving hands as he explained. 

“Buck,” Bobby began, all eyes turning to him, “We’re going to figure this out. I don’t think you should live in fear of your parents, and I think you should definitely be paid for any work you do. I’ll talk to the higher-ups and see what we can do about your paycheck.” He squinted a little, watching Buck wring his hands some more. 

“Now, if you don’t want to stay here working at the station, we can figure something else out and we would all completely understand if this isn’t what you want-“

“No, I want to stay. I want to keep working for the 118. I like my job.” Buck felt out of breath and out of control. It’s not like he ever felt in control of his life before, but now he really had no idea what would happen. 

To be out of the realm of control of his parents, though, that would be new, nearly unimaginable. 

He looked around at his team—the people who had wormed their way into Buck’s heart and hopefully his future—their faces reflecting a range of compassion and concern. 

He tried to imagine it anyway. 

Chapter Text

It made the most sense to move in with Chimney. Buck insisted that he was fine staying at the fire house (the vents were quiet and warm), but the team thought it would be better that he lived with one of them until they figured out the payroll situation. He was hesitant to admit it, but it would be nice to not have everything in his life tied to a location where his parents and Lin could find him at their whim. If he stayed with Chim, who he liked and trusted, he could feel more in control of his life. 

This was what he repeated to himself anyway, even as he and Chim tried to figure out their living habits as roommates. Chim insisted that Buck not contribute to the rent until he was actually getting paid, but Chim’s two-bedroom, two-bath, three-half-bath, two craft-room, half-kitchenette apartment was pretty luxurious by Buck’s standards. 

The craft rooms in particular weren’t bad. Chim had a state of the art new sewing machine model that Buck was downright in love with. In one afternoon off from work, he sewed up the ripping seams on his Lafufu and made him a firefighter outfit. He couldn’t wait to show Eddie. 

It was also fun to drive to work together. Buck had a feeling he talked a little too much for Chim in the morning, but he also knew Chim tolerated him when he turned the music down enough to listen to whatever tangent Buck was on.

After one day of moving his meager belongings into Chim’s apartment and four nights of sleeping a hallway away from Chim’s soft snoring, Buck felt like he was falling into a pretty good rhythm; things were starting to look up. 

He was even beginning to enjoy cooking. Baking, more specifically, was exciting when the team was out on a call. Buck started to experiment using Reddit recipes and WitchTok videos. 

He was only gone a few minutes (Clash of Clans village update) while his friends were alone in the kitchen. Only a few minutes; he didn’t know how it happened so quickly. 

He came back, his nose basically still buried in his phone, only glancing up to realize that nearly the entire container of the muffins he just made were gone. They had been cooling, too hot still to test the efficacy or safety of, and he thought too hot to even attempt eating. Not too hot for the team to attempt to devour it turns out. 

“Oh, no. Oh, god, did you guys eat all of those muffins?”

Hen popped a stray blueberry into her mouth, nodding a little guiltily. 

“Why,” Eddie asked, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin, “They didn’t have, like, acid in them or anything, right?”

Chim, Hen, and Eddie looked at each other. Chim, while nervous, still took another bite to finish off what must have been at least his second muffin. Buck huffed. 

“No, worse… they make you like Ellen DeGeneres.” He wiped his hand over his face, feeling a sweat coming on over his brow. 

Hen laughed a little, “That’s fine, I guess? I mean, she’s kind of annoying and problematic, sure, but I think I could tolerate liking her-“ Buck shook his head. 

“No, Hen, the muffins make you like Ellen DeGeneres… like you are going to turn into her-”

“Oh god, oh, what the fuck,” Chimney panted from the table, attempting to spit his last bite onto the floor. 

Hen was turning green.

“Oh my god, I’m going to be sick, oh my god-“ she hurried to the bathroom, a hand cupping her mouth. 

“Um, maybe if you have two then they will cancel each other out?” Buck said, the center of the pandemonium, wringing his sweaty hands together. 

“What if you had three?” Eddie asked with wide, frightened eyes. He then tried to stick his entire hand in his mouth. 

“I need to find a mirror, oh fuck, I’m going to be blond, oh god, we are about to be a whole firefighter team of Ellen DeGenereses-“ Chim abruptly stood from his seat, pulling at his hair as if to pull the blond out before it emerged. 

Eddie was the only one left sitting at the table, his hands pressed together as he prayed desperately between whispers of “how did I not foresee this” and “of course it would be Ellen.”

“No, guys, don’t worry, I can fix this, it’s just—oh.” Buck turned the container toward him, taking a closer look at it. 

“Oh, these are just the lucid dreaming muffins!” He called out across station.

Hen and Chim slowly made their way back up the stairs. 

Buck smiled at them gently, holding the container aloft with the smudged words “lucid dreaming” scribbled onto the bottom of the plastic. 

“You guys will be fine! Expect some crazy dreams tonight, though.” He closed the container, vowing to keep them out of unsuspecting visitor’s hands. 

They all sighed with relief. 

“Stay out of the lemon poppyseed, those are the Ellen muffins.” Buck nodded toward the oven, where another container of untouched muffins sat on the counter. 

Chimney whined, “I love lemon poppyseed.”

The door slammed closed below them. Bobby was in his office, despite all of the yelling, and they weren’t expecting anyone. 

Especially not someone with a Mike Myers mask, Canadian comedian and actor, looking directly at them. 

Chapter Text

“Hello?” Hen called out from the upstairs banister to the figure below them. 

The Mike Myers mask had a long brown ponytail sticking out the bottom of it. The figure started quickly up the stairs. 

Chim and Hen immediately stepped back, alarmed, while Buck pushed ahead of Eddie. He puffed his chest out and stood tall—he found it difficult to be intimidating at 5 foot 6 inches. 

Eddie was already pushing against Buck’s arm when the stranger stopped in front of them. Mike Myers dropped a packed duffle bag from their shoulder, put both arms out like they were preparing for an embrace, and said something. That something was probably spoken at a normal volume inside of the mask, but sounded like a garbled whisper to the outside world. 

“What?” Buck asked, dropping his hand slightly in confusion, giving Eddie the opportunity to stand in front of him in a slightly menacing fashion if Buck were to guess. The Mike Myers mask eyes followed up Eddie’s form to his face, nearly appraising him. 

“What’s up with the mask? What do you want?” Eddie asked with his hands curled at his sides. Buck could hear Hen and Chim rummaging in the kitchen, maybe for something to defend themselves with. 

The stranger’s hands flared out and their spine stiffened, like they had only just recalled something. 

Two small hands reached up quickly for the lip of the mask and ripped it off. Her face was revealed first—the silicone mask probably pulled a few hairs out, making her cringe. Buck gasped, holding a hand to his heart. 

“Maddie,” he whispered, stumbling toward his big sister. Eddie, not completely understanding the situation yet, almost held Buck back before he saw the desperate, mournful look in his eyes. 

The Buckley siblings both burst into tears as they held each other for the first time in nearly two years. 

Eventually, they pulled back, Maddie holding Buck’s face in her hands, her eyebrows scrunched up and her smile pained and happy as she continued to cry. 

“Evan—“ 

There was a clatter behind him. They both jumped and turned to the direction of the sound. 

Hen’s mouth was a perfect ‘o’ with her hand still raised in the air, a knife clattering onto the counter top. When Chimney realized that Buck and Maddie were looking at them, he lowered his own ladle out of sight. He gave them a quick, guilty smile. 

“Um—hey, so guys, this is my-“ Buck pulled a little away from Maddie, gesturing to her with his other hand so he didn’t have to let go of her completely. He hoped he would never have to again. 

“Girlfriend?” Eddie interjected. Everyone turned and looked at him. 

“-sister, Maddie.” Buck finished. No one looked at Eddie when he let out a big huff of air. 

Hen stepped closer to them. 

“Sister? I didn’t know you had a sister-“ 

“Yeah—I, um, we haven’t seen each other in awhile—Maddie, she lives in Boston with her-“ 

“Lived in Boston, Evan.” She smiled sweetly at Buck, his tense shoulders melting a little. His sister came to find him. She wouldn’t have to say goodbye again. 

“Really?” He whispered, moving to put his arms around her again, “Where’s Doug?”

He could feel her shrill, shaky laugh. 

“He’s on a work trip! A really long one!” She laughed to herself again, and pulled Buck in tighter. Buck hoped that didn’t mean Doug was going to come to L.A., too. 

“What’s up with the mask?” Chimney asked, approaching them next to Hen and Eddie. 

“Oh, I, uh.” Maddie pressed her eyebrows together and hummed, looking down at the mask in her hands. 

“I wanted to surprise Evan.” 

A moment of silence came over the group. 

“I think you surprised us all.” Chimney smiled at her. To Buck’s vague shock, Maddie smiled back. 

“Do you want a muffin?” Buck asked, pulling her toward the counter where his lucid dreaming muffins still sat in their container. 

“No!” Three voices rang out, jolting Buck’s hand back from the lid. He rolled his eyes and set off to the fridge. 

“There’s probably stuff for sandwiches, I can make you one-“

“My little brother makes muffins and sandwiches? What a treat, yes please,” Maddie said, lifting herself up onto a chair in the kitchen and her voice lilting through the firehouse like music to Buck’s tired ears.

 He couldn’t help but pause for a second, smiling at her. It felt like his face would freeze that way if it weren’t for the warmth he felt in his cheeks. He was just so happy to see her; he had to tell her. 

“I’m so happy to see you.”

“I’m not sure how you’ll feel when you see me,” a voice called from the first floor.

Eddie glanced over the railing. 

“Cap?”

“Yeah,” Bobby’s distinctly exasperated voice called back, “Is anyone going to explain why I look like Ellen DeGeneres right now?"

Everyone’s head swiveled toward Buck, who winced and shrunk a little on the spot. He glanced over at the second muffin container near the oven—perhaps it was not as full as he imagined it was. 

“It probably won’t last more than a day!” Buck strained on his tippy toes so that his shout would reach Bobby. He tried not to sound worried or unsure.

They all heard a long sigh from below the stairs and then a door opening and closing with a final note. Buck smiled at them shyly and continued his search for sandwich ingredients. 

“Anyway, Maddie—where did you say Doug was?” He started slicing a tomato, only just holding himself back from whistling as he worked. 

“Uh, a fishing trip.” She settled her hands on the counter in front of her, watching Buck move through the motions of making a Scooby Doo-esque seven layered turkey sandwich. Buck thought Doug seemed more like the hunting type. 

“Right, right,” Buck muttered, “so he’ll come live here when he’s done fishing?”

“No, he, um,” Maddie looked down at her hands for a moment, “he’s visiting his family after that—in, um, the Bahamas.”

Buck hummed to himself. 

“Aren’t the Bahamas in the Bermuda Triangle?” He had reached the third layer. The sandwich would reach eye level soon enough. 

“Yeah, right, um, they are. Great fishing,” she coughed and took the water that Chimney offered her. 

Buck paused in his assembly, looking Maddie in the eye. 

“So, it’s just us?” He couldn’t help but sound hopeful. He hated Doug and he hated the way Maddie was never around when she was with Doug. 

She smiled smaller this time but no less genuine, tilting her head to the side and looking back. 

“Yeah, Evan. It’s just us."

Chapter Text

Buck was in such a good mood that he started making sandwiches for the whole team. This had nothing to do with the guilt he felt toward the Ellen DeGeneresed Bobby. 

While he searched for ingredients, Buck overheard Chimney and Maddie exchanging small talk. (Maybe he made Maddie’s sandwich too tall—the fridge was nearly empty.)

“So you said your husband is on a trip right now?” Chim was very clearly attempting to look casual but he was a twitch away from swallowing his gum whole and slipping off the counter where he was leaning. 

“We’re separated, actually.” Maddie took a demure sip from her water. “And yeah, he’s, um, visiting his sick grandmother.”

“Didn’t you say he was-“

“Sandwiches are ready!” Buck called across the counter and presented his creations. 

“What the fuck is this?” Chimney asked, holding up his plate as if the real sandwich was hiding underneath it.  

“Oh,” Buck said, rubbing his hands together with excitement, “that’s a little something I call ‘My Soggy Masterpiece’—I slap a piece of ham on the stove and flip it, then I fold it and put a slice of that spicy cheese Eddie likes inside. Once it’s all gooey I add some pickled jalapeños.”

Chim’s face scrunched up as he gingerly lifted one side of the ham to look inside.

“Is it… is it good?”

Buck shrugged and started on the dishes. 

“Honestly, not really. It’s like… wet. And kind of unsettling texturally. But when you don’t have the supplies for anything else, man—it’s perfect. I gobble that monstrosity down with a passion that would rival the old masters when they gazed upon their grand landscapes and portraits.” He looked off into the distance and sighed. “The tears that spring to my eyes, however, have more to do with spice than beauty.”

Chimney glanced between him and the sandwich with equal levels of disgust. 

“Come on, Chim, eat up!”

“Do I have to?”

Buck just laughed and continued loading the dishwasher. Nothing could set him off, his sister was here. 

“Man, at least you got fillings, my sandwich is just two slices of the weird seeded bread from the freezer with a piece of lettuce and some pickles,” Eddie said through a mouthful. 

“You got bread?” Hen held up her two giant heirloom tomato slices with a piece of cheese melted between them. A glob of mustard dropped from the sandwich and audibly plopped on her plate.

Considering he lacked important ingredients and he was aiming for whimsical variety, Buck thought he did a pretty good job with that one.

“Guys, come on, I did what I could with what we had!”

Luckily, no one commented on the bursting, 24-inch tall sandwich Buck made Maddie or the perfectly normal one he made for Bobby.

Once he was finished cleaning up, and while everyone was busy eating their concoctions, Buck leaned in toward Maddie. 

“Do you, you know, have a place to stay?” He whispered, looking at her with wide eyes. 

She set down her sandwich mournfully. 

“I was actually hoping that I could maybe… stay with you?”

Buck didn’t even have a chance to respond before Chimney was cutting in, way too excited. 

“Of course you can stay with him. He’s staying with me. Buck, you don’t mind taking the couch, right?” For all the disagreement Chimney had with the sandwich, he sure did eat it quickly. 

“Uh, no, of course not.” He could tolerate sleeping on Chimney’s lumpy gorilla fur couch, sure; anything for Maddie. 

Their shift was over soon after—no one saw Bobby, but the plate that held his sandwich was empty when Buck went to retrieve it before they left. 

After their usual goodbyes and new “nice to meet yous” and with Maddie’s meager duffle bag thrown in the trunk, they set off. Buck sat in the backseat, which he was totally okay with. Even with his seatbelt on he could lean forward enough to be right between Maddie and Chim; this way, they could hear him when he spoke. He couldn’t help but miss the hazard-ridden cars of the past with front bench seats. 

When they entered Chimney’s two-bedroom, two-bath, three-half-bath, two craft-room, half-kitchenette apartment, Maddie let out a little gasp. 

“It’s uh, it’s not… much, but it works-“ Chim began, one hand passing through his hair as his other hand grasped Maddie’s bag (his insistence). 

“It’s perfect,” Maddie said, with no small amount of wonder in her voice.

Chimney blushed. 

“Well, here, I can show you around. This is the kitchen and the living room, and the first door on your left there is craft room number one, and-“ Chimney’s voice trailed off as they moved down the hallway, away from Buck, who stood smiling next to their removed shoes. 

“This place has almost everything! The only thing you’re missing is a karaoke-“

“A karaoke room! Yes! That’s what I told the real estate agent!”

Buck could hear their tones getting more and more excited, but none of their words broke through the distance. Despite his new bed being the gorilla-shaped couch, Buck couldn’t have been happier. 

Chapter Text

Buck was starting to feel like he may have spoken too soon. 

Of course he loved living with Maddie. Chim wasn’t so bad either, especially because he still insisted on paying the full rent. (Bobby said that HR was rerouting Buck’s paychecks but it might take another week.)

Buck also felt it was important to mention that the gorilla coach kind of hurt to sleep on. And Maddie and Chim were becoming good friends with a surprising speed.

The apartment was starting to feel small and Maddie and Chim loved watching movies on the gorilla coach late at night before they all went to bed. They would have immediately moved if Buck spoke up, but he honestly didn’t want to. He liked that Maddie was laughing and smiling freely (not like she did when she was with Doug), and he thought that maybe if this friendship maintained its momentum, Maddie and Chimney could be really happy together. So Buck stayed quiet and tired. 

He also wanted to give them some time in the apartment without him there, which was how he ended up on Eddie’s couch getting absolutely destroyed by Christopher in Unpacking. It wasn’t even a 2-player game, yet Chris was always right about the placement for objects and Buck was always wrong. He thought it was supposed to be a chill, story-based puzzle game; Chris treated it like it was warfare. 

“No, Buck, you have to put the master’s degree under the bed or above the toilet. The boyfriend doesn’t have room anywhere else!”

“This game sucks,” Buck whispered under his breath. Eddie’s ribs bounced with his laughter pressed up against Buck’s arm. Despite the difficulty of the game, he was warm and happy. It helped that Eddie was sitting so close. Joy came easy to Buck when he was at the Diaz house. 

Christopher yawned loudly. 

“Alright, get ready for bed, it’s a school night,” Eddie said, patting his thighs and standing up. Chris groaned but stood up anyway, saying goodnight to Buck and sleepily trudging over to his room. 

Buck couldn’t hold his yawn back, either. 

“Thanks for having me, Eddie, it’ll just take a second for my hoverboard to finish charging and then I can get out of your hair-“ 

Eddie peaked his head out from the kitchen door. 

“What?” He looked confused and a little distressed, but he went back into the kitchen for another moment only to emerge with two beer bottles. 

“I was just cleaning up a little, do you not want to… stay?” He offered the beer bottle to Buck, his big cow eyes shining with manipulative intention. Buck sighed and swallowed back his emerging yawn; he could stay for a little longer. One beer wouldn’t hurt him, and their shift didn’t start until the late afternoon the following day. He could just call an Uber if it was too late to take his hoverboard. 

He reached out his hand and grabbed the beer. Only, Eddie didn’t let go, he just smiled and let Buck tug him back to the couch until they were sitting thigh to thigh again. Buck glanced between Eddie’s grip on the beer, their fingers pressed together on the neck, and Eddie’s face, which was quickly turning red. Eddie opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it and released the bottle. Buck chuckled a little awkwardly. 

“Hey, did you know that only three major airports in the United States have smoking lounges?”

Eddie smiled and leaned back against the couch. 

“Really? Where?”

“Well, the Harry Reid International Airport in Las Vegas used to be completely smokefree until 2010, now you can smoke in like 15 different designated areas, including any bar that doesn’t serve food. The Nashville International Airport has a lounge and the Miami International Airport has a smoking-permitted open air atrium next to their TGI Fridays.”

“A TGI Fridays? I didn’t know they still existed.”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, they did file for bankruptcy in 2024, but there’s a ton of them still in operation around the country.”

Eddie hummed with what seemed to be genuine interest around his sip of beer. Buck glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and took a few big gulps. 

“Do you want to watch a movie-“

“Sure!” Buck maybe sounded a little too enthusiastic. He was just nervous—he wasn’t around Eddie alone very often, not now that they were friends. Eddie even cooed over Buck’s newly outfitted Lafufu when he finally remembered to show him during their last shift. It was easy to forget when he was so tired. The bunks were beginning to look like the best place for Buck to get any real sleep. 

Eddie reached for the remote on the coffee table. 

“Oh, man, I’ve been meaning to watch this new movie out on Wubee.” He started clicking and scrolling around, frowning just at the corners of his lips. “Or maybe it was Feebo.”

Buck let his eyes drift closed for a moment while Eddie searched. 

“Found it!” Eddie quietly exclaimed, aware of Chris sleeping not too far away, but still loud enough to wake Buck from the half-dream state he slipped into. 

“Oh-yeah, what’s it?” Buck slurred a little, bringing his beer that he almost tipped onto the couch faux-casually back up to his lips. Eddie spared him an entertained smile and gestured with the remote. 

“They just released Pride and Juice! It’s a retelling of Pride and Prejudice but it’s set in modern-day L.A. and Mr. Darcy owns a juice cleanse brand-” He paused the remote over the play button and looked at Buck. “I mean, if that, you know, sounded fun to you. Not that I watch all of the Pride and Prejudice retelling movies.” He swallowed loudly, like a cartoon, again. 

Buck didn’t believe him but decided not to call him out. He was sure he could find something he liked in the movie. 

He barely made it 20 minutes in before he fell asleep, his empty beer bottle luckily already placed on the coffee table and his head resting between Eddie’s shoulder and the ridge of the couch. It was some of the best sleep he got all week. 

“Hey, man,” Eddie whispered, nudging his shoulder gently and lifting himself to his feet, “the movie’s over. I know you missed most of it, but it was so good I would watch it again.” He dragged Buck’s more-than half asleep body down to lay horizontally on the couch and placed a pillow under his head and a blanket over his shoulders. It didn’t reach his feet. 

Buck tried to respond, but only a weird mumble broke through. Eddie huffed out a quiet laugh and gently brushed his hair away from his birthmark. He stepped away and made a considering hum. (Buck missed him.) Another blanket was placed over his calves and feet and Eddie tucked him in a bit. At least if Eddie was leaving Buck would still be warm. 

“I’m going to text Chim and tell him you’re sleeping over here. Goodnight, Buck. I’ll see you in the morning.” Eddie left the living room and the rest of the lights went black. The last thing Buck remembered hearing was Eddie’s soft footsteps as he went to his room. Buck fell into a deep sleep. 

Chapter Text

Buck started spending more time at Eddie’s. Eventually, his stuff found its way over there, too. It’s not like he needed a car to move his single duffle bag—his hoverboard did the job just fine—especially when he brought over a few things at a time. 

First, it was t-shirts and jeans. He got a thin drawer with rollers from Chimney’s to slide under the couch, out of sight for Eddie and easy to reach for Buck. When Eddie didn’t notice that, Buck brought his Mike Wazowski Tiffany lamp, his Labubu glass case, and the sea monkeys he got for free at the scene of an emergency. He was teaching Chris about them, it made more sense to show him their growth and constant care in-person. 

Buck chose not to say anything to Chim and Maddie about moving into Eddie’s. He didn’t even say anything to Eddie about moving into Eddie’s. He knew it wasn’t necessarily well-adjusted of him, but Eddie asked him to stay the night every time they were off shift anyway. Buck slept pretty well on that couch—it was better than Chimney’s gorilla couch, for sure. It didn’t hurt that the couch lived where Buck’s new favorite two people lived. 

Buck hadn’t seen Maddie in a few days when she showed up at Eddie’s three hours after they ended their shift and headed straight for “home.” Buck opened the door. 

“Oh! Maddie, hey!” Maddie shrugged past him in the doorway instead of waiting for him to invite her in or move out of the way, squinting and pursing her lips. Buck still could tell she was hiding a smile. 

“‘Hey’ Maddie? I haven’t seen you in days and I don’t think you even visit Howie’s anymore and that’s all you have to say?”

“Um, well-“

“Were you ever going to tell me that you and Eddie were together?”

She was still looking around, like she thought Eddie would spring out of the hallway corners to surprise her. Buck was extremely grateful that Eddie was definitely in the shower. He could hear 100 gecs blasting from what felt like the other side of the house. 

“Maddie,” Buck half-whispered, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the kitchen, as far away from Eddie as he could get without throwing her out of the house. 

“What?”

“We aren’t together… I just… spend a lot of time here, that’s all.” He swallowed and then tried to push down his grin. “I was trying to get out of Chim’s so you can have him all to yourself-“

Maddie punched him in the arm. 

“Evan!” He tried to push down his laugh, too. She visibly shook away her surprise and offense, stood up taller, and looked around the kitchen instead of her little brother. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please, that’s hilarious, considering you two are best friends and can’t seem to keep your eyes or your hands off each other!”

“That’s funny coming from you considering how you and Eddie act!”

The room fell silent and the Buckley siblings narrowed their eyes at each other. Any further confrontation was prevented the moment Eddie walked into the kitchen, his eyes bright and his hair dripping a little on his forehead. Buck thought he might be in love. 

“Uh, hey, Maddie, it’s nice to see you again.” He glanced between them like he could sense the tension and he couldn’t tell if it was a friendly place for him to stop and talk. “How’s Chimney’s? Are you missing Buck? Sorry I’ve been hogging him over here—he knows all the answers to Chris’s math homework.” He smiled sheepishly, and his cheeks turned pink. Buck felt like melting into the floor. He was absolutely screwed. 

Maddie’s narrowed eyes finally moved off of Buck, her smile brightening at Eddie. 

“Oh, no, you can ‘hog’ him all you want. This way I don’t have to listen to him complain about the action movies Howie and I like to watch. I was just wondering where he was-“

“I was around!” Buck interjected. 

“-and I thought I would come over here to check. He looks pretty happy where he is, so my big sister duties are complete,” Maddie finished.

Eddie’s blush turned brighter and he avoided looking over at Buck. 

“Unless there’s something else going on here other than you housing my brother and taking advantage of his homework knowledge?” Her eyebrow went up and Buck’s mouth fell open like a Late Devonian period Dunkleosteus. 

He uselessly attempted to move his mouth or make a sound, literally any sound. He managed a squeak when Eddie started stumbling over his words. 

“Uh, no, of course not, not that I wouldn’t-I mean it’s not, uh, there’s nothing going on.” He couldn’t help but glance at Buck this time, his eyes quickly darting back to Maddie. His face was so red he looked like he was going to pass out. 

Maddie hummed, sizing Eddie up while standing there uninvited in his kitchen. For Buck, this was a humiliation ritual of epic proportions. 

“You know,” she began, glancing past Eddie’s shoulder, “this is why the writers never want us to talk; something like this would happen.” Eddie joined her in looking through the doorway at our metaphorical camera. He gave us a pained smile. I set down my pen and paper and started to sweat. 

They turned back to each other and Maddie smiled softly. 

“Well, I’m going to head out now. I’m picking up snacks for our movie marathon. Evan, I better see you for dinner tomorrow and brunch on Saturday. You’re not getting out of hanging out with your lame older sister anytime soon even if all of your stuff is here. And Eddie, it was lovely to see you again. Join us for dinner if you’re free.”

“S-sure, yeah, sounds good. I’m free tomorrow.” Eddie nodded eagerly, not wanting to disappoint.

She huffed out a laugh and reached out to pull Buck into a hug. 

“You’re not lame.” Buck mumbled into her shoulder because he was 5 foot 4 inches tall. Maddie laughed and patted his back soothingly. 

“Sure, Evan.” She pulled back and headed toward the door, Buck and Eddie trailing along behind her. She turned back to them right before she stepped out onto the front porch. 

“Tomorrow, okay? Don’t forget.” Her eyes darted between them until they started nodding again. 

The door made a soft but ominous click behind her. Silence settled over the room like a linen sheet. It wasn’t quite awkward, Buck thought, but it wasn’t the easy quiet they had developed over the last few days. 

Eddie cleared his throat. 

“All your stuff, huh? You moving in, Buckley?” He tried at a cocky grin, but it just came off as endeared. Buck rolled his eyes, his face still breaking into a smile. 

“Oh, shut up, I sleep on your couch every night and I have like three things, it was bound to happen.”

They stood in the foyer and smiled at each other. 

Buck’s phone buzzed loudly. 

“Bobby?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he stepped closer to try and hear what Bobby was saying. 

“Hey, kid, look, it sounds like there may have been a few issues with rerouting your paycheck-“ Eddie’s head moved back, making equally bewildered eye contact with Buck, “-can you come over to mine and Athena’s and we can talk about it?”

Buck tried not to bite his nails at Bobby’s tone. 

“Uh, Bobby, you’re making it sound kind of serious-“ he attempted a laugh but it sounded strained. Eddie backed away from him quickly, rummaging in his duffle bag and then his jacket pockets. 

“Just-just come over, Buck,” Bobby sighed. 

Eddie’s eyes were big like two white saucers full of warm chocolate fondue. He held his car keys up in the air.

“Eddie’s driving. We will be there in twenty,” and then Buck hung up. 

Chapter Text

It was quiet on the drive. Buck messed with the air controls and switched through the music stations. Eddie insisted that he liked listening to the radio, but Buck knew that as soon as he blasted the playlist he made specially for their car rides that he would change Eddie’s mind. 

Now wasn’t the time for that, though. 

Eddie cleared his throat and glanced at Buck. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing too serious. It will be fine, Buck. We’ll figure it out.”

Buck hummed and turned to look outside. He wished he was driving. He liked driving Eddie places. Eddie wasn’t necessarily a bad driver, but without the road to focus on Buck felt himself drift into the world of his anxieties. 

What if it was something serious? What if the department found something weird in his paperwork and he was getting fired?

He didn’t want to think about it, but it was hard not to when they had another ten minutes ahead of them and the grass on the side of the road blurred by. 

An eager hand suddenly gripped his wrist, curling fingers one by one around his bones and pulling him closer to the center console when he didn’t immediately pull away. He looked up at Eddie, who was blushing but looking determined out at the road, and then looked down at Eddie’s careful hand wrapped around his wrist.

He pulled his hand up, loosening Eddie’s grip but not letting him get far. In the next blink, they were holding hands, their fingers criss-crossing and overlapping and warm. Eddie, after a moment of surprise, held on tight. 

The rest of the drive was just as silent as it started, but this time it had more to do with the mantra of we’re holding hands, Eddie is holding my hand on a spin cycle in Buck’s mind than his worries about Bobby’s news. 

In Buck’s unbiased opinion, the drive to Bobby’s was entirely too short. Bobby and Athena should live further away, Buck thought, and then immediately wanted to take it back. He wished they all lived on a compound. Bobby could be their cult leader. They would grow carrots and radishes and live a happy, simple life. 

“We’re here,” Eddie said, his voice ringing out and breaking Buck from his Bobby-centric belief system daydreams. 

“Right.” Buck made no move to separate himself from Eddie nor leave the car. 

“I can, I can come in with you? If you want?” Eddie said, staring at their hands. Buck wished they were glued together. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I want. Please.”

Eddie nodded and swallowed, opening his mouth to say something else when the door to Bobby’s house swung open. 

“Are you two just going to sit there? Or are you coming in?” Athena Grant yelled out to them from the front porch. 

Buck met Athena once before during his third week of work, and he didn’t make the best first impression. She was stopping by to drop off Bobby’s phone after he left it at home and Buck had already finished most of his chores around the firehouse and it was too early to start on lunch. Athena “found” him in the vents, where he was playing Clash in his ceiling blanket fort and hitting Eddie’s vape. She nudged a broom on the ceiling tile precisely where he was sitting and in his jolt of surprise, he fell through the tile in a Looney Tunes fashion—cereal milk-scented smoke exploding out as he descended in a great disaster of limbs and a small scream onto his well-placed floor blanket fort. Athena claimed that he screamed bloody murder but Buck insisted that the sound he let out was both fair to the context and fitting for a young man of his age and stature. 

She only raised her eyebrow and the corner of her mouth at him (when he stopped screaming) and offered a hand up. Buck, embarrassed, just managed to introduce himself when Athena cut him off with an “Oh, I know who you are, Evan Buckley, and I think I see why my husband is so fond of you.” 

Could their first meeting have gone better? Probably. Did Buck still offer to make Athena a cup of coffee for the road? Of course. She even took him up on it and made sure that he didn’t develop signs of a concussion despite his insistence that he didn’t hit his head. 

Buck liked Athena, even if he was a little afraid of her. 

He and Eddie nearly jumped away from each other, eagerly gripping their door handles to be the first one out of the car. In a fit of panic and giddiness, Buck pushed his door open as fast as possible and clicked the door lock button. He cackled when Eddie swore. Athena shook her head at him and pursed her lips, but a smile was emerging. 

Buck paused in front of the porch, looking in through the front door with some amount of trepidation. When Eddie finally caught up to him, he bumped his shoulder into Buck with a bit of force, enough to break him out of his stupor and laugh. 

Eddie smiled reassuringly and placed a gentle hand on Buck’s lower back, pushing him up the stairs to meet Athena. 

She stopped him for a quick moment, pushing his hair back on his forehead and smiled with what he feared was pity. Whatever it was, she waved him and Eddie into the house. Bobby was waiting at the dining room table. 

“Buck,” Bobby said, warmly. He nodded at Eddie, who nodded back, Bobby’s eyes resting on the hand Eddie still had pressed to Buck’s back for a moment. 

“Hey, Bobby,” Buck sighed. 

“Come sit down, I want to talk to you about something.”

“My paycheck, right?” Buck sat down across from Bobby and Eddie sat down next him, barely breaking contact when he dropped his hand to press his knee to Buck’s. Athena rounded the table from behind them, putting a hand on Bobby’s shoulder and then sitting down next to him. 

Bobby glanced at Eddie again and winced at Buck. 

“Yes, your paycheck, but it’s not just that-“

“Come on, Bobby, I can handle it, whatever it is, just tell me-“

“Buck, it’s your parents.”

Buck thought his hearing went out for second. He felt himself freeze but he couldn’t do anything about it. His eyebrow twitched and raised by a millimeter. He felt like a cornered, scared cat, his ears pointed flat and back and his tail all puffy. 

“My parents?” He asked hollowly. He hadn’t heard from them in months. Not even Lin came to check up on him again. He thought this was over, he could live his life out in L.A. with the 118 and his parents would never bother him again. 

“Your parents. It turns out Mr. and Mrs. Buckley caught wind of the pay reroute and caused a bit of a stir with their friends in the police force. They, uh, claimed that you’re stealing from them and promised to press charges on you and the entire 118 if we finished rerouting your paychecks. They said that if it wasn’t fixed by tomorrow that they would come down here and… retrieve you.”

“Retrieve me?” Buck couldn’t tell if he was breathing. Eddie was holding his hand again. 

“Yes, that’s what they said,” he sighed, “Buck, I need you to know, I never would have gone into any sort of agreement with them and had you work here if I knew-“

“But then I wouldn’t be here, right?” Buck smiled wanly at Bobby and loosened his grip on Eddie so that they could both get some feeling back in their fingers. 

“I-right. I suppose that’s true. Listen, we are going to do everything we can to support you and make sure they don’t do anything you don’t want them to do, okay? They may have friends in high places but Athena is a well-respected sergeant-“

“And I will not let you be pushed around, Buck, not even by your parents.” 

Buck nodded absently in the face of their stony conviction. He believed they would do everything in their power to help him. He also couldn’t be sure that it would be enough. And he really didn’t want to bring them (or the careers ahead of them) down with him. 

“What, um, what can we do?” Eddie asked when Buck stayed silent. 

He was looking out at Bobby and Athena’s beautifully quaffed backyard. The season was showing minute signs of changing, even in Los Angeles. Buck had been looking forward to a winter that wouldn’t freeze the marrow in his bones like it did in Hershey. It was hard to process the fact that he might not be in L.A. to see the winter, let alone be there to see next week. 

“Well, one option might be looking into Buck getting a restraining order-“

The rest of the time they spent with Bobby and Athena was a blur. Buck trusted Eddie to remember anything important that he might have missed. Eddie—beautiful, amazing, Eddie—sat at Buck’s side and furrowed his brow and asked questions and let his fist drop heavy on the table when he got an answer he didn’t like. Athena’s face cycled through concern then frustration then determination. Bobby ran a hand over his tired face and searched their questions on his laptop and sparred worried glances at Buck. 

Buck didn’t hear a word they said. He let himself drift. 

By the time he came back to his surroundings, he was sitting in the parked car, his seatbelt buckled. The ocean sprawled out ahead of them, past the sandy dunes and parking lot concrete. The clouds gathered themselves on the horizon like they were waiting for a dam to break. Buck wondered if there would be a storm. 

“What-“ his voice cracked so he tried again, “what are we doing here?”

Eddie smiled at him softly. 

“I like to come out here when I’m sad or when things feel too big… the ocean makes me breathe a little easier. My scream club meets up here every other weekend.” He patted Buck’s knee and got out of the car. 

Buck still felt like he was swimming in molasses when he trailed after him. 

They stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the waves until Buck felt tears on his face. He sniffed, wiping his sleeves under his eyes and kept his gaze on where the water breached the sand. 

“Here,” Eddie said, bending down to pick something up and pressing it into Buck’s open palm. 

Buck looked at his hand, blinking back up at a smiling Eddie. 

“A rock?”

“Yeah. Skip it. Or throw it, whatever.”

Buck scoffed and trudged closer to the surf, his heels leaving deep gouges in the sand behind him. Eddie stayed back. 

He skipped the rock, poorly. It made him laugh. He picked up another rock at his feet and threw it as far as he could. He felt himself gasping out breaths, his tears falling freely. He threw another rock and let himself drop into the sand. He curled his knees up and put his face in his hands. 

A few moments passed before he felt Eddie plop down next to him; another minute before he realized he stopped crying. 

“A bit melodramatic, if you ask me. What do you need a paycheck for anyway? You live at my house for free.”

Buck choked out a laugh and tried to frown, pushing his shoulder into Eddie’s and letting it stay there. 

“Buck, you’re going to be just fine.” He wrapped his arm around Buck’s shoulders. “I’ll be here, okay?”

Buck took a big breath and nodded. He knew that Eddie wanted to be there for him, but he also knew that Eddie’s want might not outlast his parent’s determination. He couldn’t be sure how long his life in L.A. would last, and he didn’t want anyone he cared about to be in the crossfire when his parents inevitably blew it up.

“Okay.”

They stayed on the beach until the rain came down on them and they ran giggling, holding hands, all the way to the car. 

Chapter Text

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been, uh—I’ve never confessed before.” Buck wrung his hands and shifted on the wooden bench in the confessional booth. He swallowed against the long silence that followed. 

“My, uh, boss told me I could try confession. I mean, he technically told me I should ‘talk to someone’ because that’s what he does when he’s processing something big, and I asked about who he talks to and he said he normally talks to his priest, here, at this church. You, I guess. He told me he saw you for the Ellen DeGeneres exorcism because it was literally the only way to turn him back to normal-“ 

The priest cleared his throat. 

“Anyway, yeah, you exorcised the Ellen out of him. I figured maybe you could help me.”

“I will definitely try. Why don’t you start with telling me what happened?”

Buck felt himself sigh and then everything that happened for the last few months came tumbling out. He couldn’t stop himself from word-vomiting even the smallest, inconsequential of details about his path leading to the current day in the confessional booth during public visiting hours. 

The priest hummed. 

“That’s a lot for one person to process and deal with. How are you holding up?”

“Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s a lot. Um, I think I’ve been really lucky to have the 118 to lean on. Eddie in particular, these last few weeks. I’m just-” Buck sighed again, glancing toward where the priest was mirroring his position on the other side of the booth, “I just really like him. Eddie, I mean. I think I want to be with him. But I don’t want to get too attached, and I feel like I’m panicking a little bit, because what if my parents come and get me and take me away from this great new family I’ve found here?” He rubbed the flat of his palms against the ache in his eyes and temples.

“If your parents came here, what do you think would actually happen?” The priest asked. 

“I would have to go?” Buck offered, as though it was obvious and a stupid question to begin with.  He tried to stare through the screen between them. “I mean, clearly Maddie can be happy here and she won’t want to leave, not that they would make her, and I wouldn’t make her come with me, obviously-“

“Obviously? It sounds like your sister really cares about you. Maybe she would want to come with you.”

“No-no, I wouldn’t ask that of her. I think she could be really happy here. I don’t want her to leave.”

“Because you know that you would miserable if you went back?”

“I-yeah. I would be. I would do almost anything to not go, honestly.”

A silence came over the booth. Buck thought he could hear the old wood creaking and groaning around him in their little alcove of secrets and salvation. He dug his thumb nail into the groove in the wall next to him. 

“I think you should reflect on what you really want. If you had complete freedom, where would you picture yourself?”

Buck assumed that images of tropical beaches and foreign cities would have popped into his mind, but instead, faces glowed in his memories. He imaged Chimney and Maddie laughing together, curled under the same blanket; Harry, Denny, and Christopher playing games; Bobby and Athena rustling his hair; Eddie smiling. Buck had formed a new, big family around himself. The smile that had spread unknowingly didn’t last long. 

“What does that matter, though? I don’t have that freedom. They can come get me whenever they want—they have friends in every precinct. I’m not just risking my happiness, I risk my friends’ jobs, their careers, their families-“

“Don’t you think they would want to know that this is weighing on you? Wouldn’t they care to help you in any way possible?”

“I-“ Buck scrubbed at his suddenly wet eyes, “Maybe. But I can’t tell them right now. I can’t put this on them.” Silence rang out again. Buck couldn’t help but feel like the priest was disappointed in him. 

“One day, I think you should tell them. For now, forgive yourself. Be generous toward your mistakes and let love renew your hopes for your future. Go in peace.”

“No extra prayers? No Hail Marys? Come on, Father.”

“Would you know how to do them?”

Buck huffed out a laugh. He wiggled the confession booth door handle until it opened and stepped out. He heard the priest do the same. 

Buck stepped toward him offering his hand to shake. He looked just like Pitbull from before he started shaving his head. 

“Thank you, Father.”

“Please, call me Armando.”

“Then thank you, Armando.”

“I hope you find your peace, Buck. One day, you will feel safe and loved and no one person will be able to change that.”

Buck nodded and smiled, a little pained, and stopped himself from asking about a possible relation to Pitbull. It felt like inappropriate timing. 

On his way out of the church, his phone pinged with a new message. It was a name he hadn’t heard from in a long time. 

Hey, trouble, how’s life?

Buck rolled his eyes, still smiling, as he walked out into the bright sunlight. Someone else might have stollen his attention and heart, but there would always be a part of him that appreciated the time he spent with the Grinch. Out of respect for their relationship, Buck decided to answer truthfully.

it could be better.

His phone started ringing. 

Chapter Text

He pulled the phone up to his ear with a smile. He didn’t even break his stride, he was so unsurprised at the Grinch’s call. 

“Hey, darling, what’s going on?” 

Buck thought he could hear glass crunching in the background—maybe a midafternoon snack before he got back on the trading floor. 

“Oh, you know, the usual… my parents sent me to L.A. where I’m finally happy, but they can’t fathom me having a life outside of them. They’re going to come and get me if I don’t… fall in line, I guess.” Buck huffed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Those parents of yours,” the Grinch murmured, mostly to himself, “you know that if I could help you, I would, right? I’m not sure I have the power to make your parents into normal people.”

“I know, thank you for calling anyway. It’s nice to hear your voice,” Buck said, and he meant it, too. 

“Listen, sweetheart, what I can do is get you out of there—now, I know that’s not exactly what you want, but it could be your chance to start over. Come to the city, you can stay with me while you get your feet back under you. Hell, go anywhere, it’s on me. Just tell me where you want to go and I’ll make it happen.”

“N-no, I couldn’t put you out like that-“

“Please, it would be my privilege. Call it a… favor… from an old friend to finally get you away from those people. You know how much you mean to me, Buck. That didn’t end just because we did.” He whispered the last part into the receiver, and Buck heard it echoing loud in all corners of his brain. He was not only touched, he was in awe, and he felt what might be some small fleck of hope rising in his chest. 

The rest of the phone call was short—the Grinch was an important man on Wall Street now—but he left Buck with the information for his private airline. He told him that the plane would be stopped on L.A. tarmac that night, and whether or not Buck got on, it would fly to New York City. He said that the flights out of JFK were better than LAX, so Buck could stay a week with him and figure out where he wanted to go next.

It was an incredibly generous offer, maybe not according to the Grinch’s standards, but to Buck it was everything. It was an opportunity. He should have called him earlier; he should have known that the Grinch would still do anything in his power to ensure that Buck was happy. 

That didn’t mean that Buck felt good about it. He had built something real in L.A. His team was in L.A. Maddie was in L.A. (Eddie was, too.) 

He had 15 hours to think about it, at least, but 12 of those hours he would be on shift. 

He retrieved his engine-boosted, three-cylinder hoverboard from where he parked it and sped off toward the firehouse. His helmet hair was about to be disastrous once he arrived, but there was nothing quite like the feeling of the warm wind tearing at his clothes and the sun beating down on his cheeks while he cut tight corners and whipped his body around. It was just him and the open road like this. It was hard to imagine that it would feel the same in New York.

He made it to the station in record-breaking time, only sweating lightly when he rolled up and parked outside. He had ten minutes or so to spare so he crept into the bunk rooms to catch up on Clash before he joined Bobby in the kitchen. 

“Hey, Buck, are you having a good morning?” 

“Hey, Bobby, uh, yeah. How about you? What are we cooking this morning?” He hopped up onto a chair across from Bobby. He was smiling at Buck. Buck tried to make his own smile look more genuine than it felt. 

“Oh, you know, I was just thinking, maybe you could make something…”

“You want me to make breakfast all by myself?” Buck didn’t want to sound too excited, but he did feel like he came a long way since his first day. 

“Two words: eggs. Benedict.”

“Oh, man, Bobby, you know how I am with eggs-“

“No, no, Buck, I know you can do this. It’s what we’ve been working toward. You’re ready.” Bobby patted a hand on his shoulder, pushing him toward the fridge and leaving the loft all together. 

It wasn’t even five minutes (barely enough time for Buck to check on Clash and look in the fridge) when the alarm blared. Hen set her book down on the table and pressed her lips together apologetically at Buck, rounding the table and heading down the stairs. Chimney swung his jacket over his arm and slapped Buck on the shoulder as he passed and Eddie swiped his loosely gelled hair back form his forehead and nodded at Buck before they both hustled downstairs. Buck leaned over the railing. 

“Bobby, when should I-“

“Try to have it ready when we come back, Buck!” Bobby shouted back as he hopped into the engine. 

Buck huffed, alone in the fire station and stuck that way for at least an hour. 

He let himself wallow and whimper his woes into the kitchen counter for a few minutes before he opened the fridge and got to work. These would be the best eggs Benedict anyone on the team had ever eaten. Hell, these would be the best eggs Benedict anyone in the whole world had ever eaten. 

He started with his milk, water, and sugar, warmed to the point of feeding the yeast. He used his first few eggs of the morning—he wouldn’t be making a dent on the station stores even if he used a dozen cartons. He combined his dry ingredients, measured only by spoon and scale. He needed to give the English muffins time to rise if he was going to do this right. 

With the muffins resting, he used even more eggs for the hollandaise sauce. This part was harder  than the rest, and to some, the most important. He had to temper the melted butter and egg mixture, making sure not to curdle or cook the eggs. Once it was done successfully, he still couldn’t relax.

Poaching eggs was the hardest thing Buck had ever been asked to do—the second hardest being leaving L.A.—and he would have to do six of them. Perfectly.

To add vinegar or go without? He stood at the stove, watching blankly as the water bubbled around the giant pot he fished out of the cupboard. He once read that in order to actually make a difference in the egg coming together and staying uniform, there would have to be enough vinegar per parts of water to be able to taste it. He gently lowered the individually cracked eggs into the plain water as is. 

He was so locked in that he imagined there were tiny, culinarily-trained rat hands pulling his curls this way and that; so locked in that he didn’t hear the door outside slam open and closed below the stairs. He quickly started his timer after getting all the eggs in—he couldn’t waste a second. He settled his puffy English muffins onto the hot skillet and covered them. He hummed to himself at the stove, watching the white of the eggs slowly turn opaque.

Someone stomped a rubber-soled shoe downstairs. Buck was already tilting his head and following the sound when a fist struck the metal of the stair rail with a loud urgency. 

“Can I help you—oh god, oh my god.” Buck scrambled toward the man at the bottom of the stairs. His face was turning a bright purple and one of his hands was cupping his throat. The corners of his eyes were tight and his mouth was in an open grimace. He was choking. In the firehouse. When only Buck was around to do anything about it. 

He stood in front of the man, both of them processing some kind of shock; for the guy it was probably more of a life-threatening kind.

“Um, okay, Sir, you are choking. I’m going to, uh, give you the Heimlich maneuver. I’ll press on your sternum while standing behind you, okay?”

The guy couldn’t even nod, his eyes were about to start rolling back.

Buck grabbed him, supporting his weight, and pressed his clasped hand in and up, hard. The man was definitely going to be sore after this. Buck would apologize as soon as they got him breathing again. 

After the fourth maneuver, something white flew out of his open mouth and he started coughing. This kind of coughing meant he could breathe, at least. Buck patted his back a little as he bent over, catching his breath. 

“Oh my god, are you okay? Can you breathe? I’m going to call someone.”

The guy put a hand up to stop Buck just as he was feeling in his pockets for his phone. He cleared his throat and shook his head. 

“I’m-I’m good. I-thank you so much. I really thought I was a goner, there. Thank you for saving my life,” the stranger rasped out, grabbing a hold of Buck’s hand and shaking it unsteadily. They were both coming down from some serious adrenaline. Buck could only gape at him like a fish and nod. 

“Seriously, I owe you my life, I don’t know what I would have done if there wasn’t a firefighter still in the station-“

“Oh, I’m not-“ Buck interrupted, ready to correct him. He paused, dropped his hands to his sides. “It was no problem… just, uh, doing my job.”

The guy nodded and smiled weakly, hunched over and still rubbing his chest where Buck was sure it ached. He took steading breaths as Buck stood next to him, awkward. He glanced toward the thing that choked him, now laying harmlessly on the floor.

“You should still call 9-1-1, though. They need to check you out, even if you feel like you’re breathing fine.” Buck nudged the object with his foot and it crinkled. “What did you choke on, anyway? I mean, what is this?”

The guy blushed and coughed into his fist. 

“I… swallowed wrong… right outside on the sidewalk, I was headed to the gym down the street—seriously, man, I can’t thank you enough—and I like to fuel up before I lift heavy, I’m bulking, you know?” He glanced away in embarrassment. “My wife thinks it’s disgusting, and I usually make sure they’re peeled before I just pop one in my mouth, but I was distracted and accidentally swallowed a whole egg, shell and all-“

The piercing ring of Buck’s phone alarm sounded somewhere above them. 

“Oh, fuck, my eggs,” Buck whispered in surprise, hightailing it back up the stairs to save them from certain over-cooking. 

“Uh, okay, thanks anyway! I’m going to go to the hospital, I guess,” the man called as Buck raced toward the stove. 

“Y-yeah, sure, of course! Hospital!” Buck shouted back distractedly, turning off the industrial sized gas stove and reaching for the pot handle. 

The garage doors groaned open and the engine pulled in. Buck heard murmured conversation downstairs and one last hoarse thank you as the guy left. 

Several pair of boots thudded up the stairs as Buck finished swiping away the last of the excess, messy hollandaise drips from the skillfully plated, perfectly cooked, fully homemade eggs Benedict. The only thing that would make it more homemade would be if Buck collected the eggs  out of the chicken coop himself. 

“Wow, Buck, you saved a man’s life and now you’re a professional chef? You’re anyone’s dream guy.” Eddie whistled from the edge of the kitchen, pulling a plate toward him to look at the creation closer. 

Chimney opened his smirking mouth to say something in response, so Hen stomped on his foot so hard his face scrunched up with pain instead and he started hopping.

“Good job, Buck.” Hen smiled at him widely, sliding up next to him to throw her arm around his shoulders, shaking him a little. He was the perfect height for her to do so, because he was 5’3”. He smiled and shook his head, tucking it into his chest. 

“Nah, come on, I was just here and lucky that I heard him, and-“

“Buck, you should be very proud right now. I know I am.” Bobby emerged into the bright light of the kitchen, drawing Buck’s attention to him immediately. He felt himself freeze, something more than just embarrassment bubbling up from his gut. Bobby smiled at him, tightlipped and proud, his hands on his hips. Buck was speechless. 

“And take a look at these plates! Buck, I think you really outdid yourself. I think you outdid me,” Bobby cooed, dipping his head down to look at the eggs up close like Eddie did. Buck felt his face color further.

“Bobby, I mean, you haven’t even tried them yet-“

“Then we better get started! Don’t want them getting cold, do we?” He swiped a plate off the counter and started toward the table. “Come on, everyone, let’s eat. Buck, I want to talk to you in my office after,” when he glanced over just in time to see Buck swallow harshly, he shook his head with a smile. “All good things.”

Buck nodded weakly and Hen shook his shoulders again until he laughed. 

They all settled in at the table, like a family, Buck thought. 

Only Chimney’s obnoxious groaning reverberating off the walls around them pulled him out of his thoughts. 

“Good?” Buck asked, smiling nervously at them and finally lifting his fork to dig in. 

“Oh my god,” Hen said around a piece of English muffin. 

And oh my god was right, if Buck (and the rest of the team) was to be believed. It was perfect—the hollandaise was smooth and velvety, the yolk burst from the easy puncture of sharp knives, and the muffin was still soft and crisp in all of the right places. 

After many rounds of thank yous and several offers to clean up after the meal, Buck and Bobby excused themselves to the captain’s office.

Buck wasn’t sure what he was expecting; maybe not condemnation or concern, but definitely not Bobby’s enthusiastic blessing and commendation for Buck to finish his formal training and take the firefighter exam. His now unwavering confidence and trust in Buck’s potential was shaking his already cracked foundations. He could only nod and accept Bobby’s hug and go sit in the bunk room to stare at his hands. 

He was getting everything he ever wanted—everything he ever dreamed of getting. So why did this pit of dread keep sitting in his stomach, pulling every bright and exciting thing happening around him down into its depths? Why was he still so scared?

It took another few minutes of staring blankly and passively listening to the water fountain before it came to him. 

Just like in his dreams, this couldn’t stay real. He couldn’t have all of it, not here and not now; not with his parents out there ready to strip it away at any cost. The precarity of it all startled Buck suddenly. He couldn’t be the reason the people he loved suffered or struggled. 

Today could be the absolute perfect day and he could be a real firefighter and finally have a family, and yet he knew that it was a day had by another Buck—a Buck living a different life, with different parents, and different reasons for landing in L.A. 

He untucked his phone from his pocket and pulled up his last text conversation. 

I’ll be there, he told the Grinch. 

Chapter Text

“I just want to say thank you, Bobby,” Buck said, standing in front of Bobby’s desk with his hands folded awkwardly in front of him. 

“For what, Buck?” Bobby looked up from his paperwork. 

They were nearing the end of the shift. Buck was running out of time. He wanted to tell everyone how much they meant to him without revealing that this would be goodbye, but it was proving to be especially difficult. 

“You know… everything, I guess. Thanks for, uh-“ Buck knew this part would be tricky and perhaps too telling, “-being someone I can look up to. You’ve helped me realize what kind of man I want to be. So yeah, thanks, Bobby.”

Despite his very visible suspicion, Bobby’s eyes were glassy when he stood up from his chair and rounded the desk to reach Buck. He pulled him into a hug, surprising them both. Buck welcomed it. This might have been his last opportunity to get a hug from his captain. 

“Buck. I know it’s been a hard road and I know we are still fighting to make things right for you, and I’m glad I helped in some way-“

“You helped a lot,” Buck murmured from where his face was pressed against Bobby’s shoulder. Bobby finally pulled back.

“But is everything okay? You’re not in any trouble that I don’t already know about, right?“

“No, Cap, I’m good.” Buck inched away until Bobby had to drop his hold on Buck’s shoulders. “I just wanted to thank you. And t-tell you… how much you m-mean to me.” Buck would not cry. It would give him away. He had to keep it together until he got on the plane, at least. He sniffled as covertly as possible and looked away from Bobby’s searching eyes. 

“Well, Buck,” Bobby cleared his throat, “I hope… you’re taking care of yourself. All of us here care about you, and I hope you feel comfortable telling at least one of us about what you’re feeling and going through. And… I would be happy to be that person, Buck.”

A tear leaked out and Buck reached his hand up to scratch his cheek and wipe the tear away before Bobby noticed. 

“No, I know, of course, Cap. Thank you. I know that.”

“Good, I’m glad. Thank you for coming to talk to me, Buck. And please, let me know if there’s anything else going on and I will try my best to help.”

But you can’t help, Buck thought. 

“Right, uh, thanks. Again.” 

Bobby nodded, concern still creasing the lines of his face as he walked slowly back to his desk chair, his eyes on Buck the entire time. Buck tried not to let his nerves show as he left the office and closed the door behind him. He was proud of himself for not looking back. 

Up next was Hen. She was sitting on the couch with a book in her hands. He sat down next to her and took a deep breath. 

“Hi, Hen. I love you.”

She folded her book closed in one hand and turned toward Buck, visibly disarmed. 

“I love you, too, Buck…? Is everything okay?”

Buck laughed too high outside of his normal vocal register to sound calm or normal. He waved his hand out toward the closest window. 

“Yeah, no, I’m good! Maybe it’s just the full moon but I’m telling everyone I love them!”

“Okay…” Buck hoped she would chalk it up to his usual weirdness and Internet rabbit holes. “Do you want to join Karen and I for wine night next weekend?”

He scratched and tugged on a loose thread coming from his jeans. 

“I’ll h-have to check my calendar… but I would love to, really! I always have so much fun with you guys.”

Buck thought she had to know. There was no way she wasn’t seeing through his performance. She was looking at him still—he could see her furrowed brows in the corner of his eye. 

“Okay…” she trailed off, narrowing her eyes at him. When he didn’t break or flinch, she shook her head a little and smiled at him. “Okay. Well, just text me and let me know. We love having you over, Buck.”

Man, this not crying thing was getting really tough. He couldn’t help but throw himself into Hen’s arms, hugging her tightly despite their awkward position next to each other on the couch. She laughed and patted his back soothingly. 

“What’s going on here?” Chim sang from the other side of the couch, his smile somehow already equally smug and curios. Hen let go of him and turned to Chim. 

“Buck is telling all of us that he loves us. A full moon ritual, it sounds like.” She smiled indulgently at Buck, who blushed and ducked his head. 

“Is that so?” Chim asked, his gum popping loudly. He stepped in front of Buck and crossed his arms, popping his weight onto one hip obnoxiously. “Well, are you going to tell me you love me?”

Buck reached for Chim before he could protest, nearly tackling him into a hug. Buck opened one eye wide enough to see Hen clearly making eye contact with a shocked, still not moving Chim, her shoulders shrugging as she reopened her book where she bookmarked it. 

“Thank you for letting me stay with you.” Buck gasped out, waiting for Chim to start hugging him back. 

His arms hesitantly moved from his sides, loosely holding Buck in return. 

“You lived with me for like a week, man-“

“And thank you for taking care of Maddie,” Buck whispered, “for being someone she can trust… and th-thank you for being someone I would be happy to see her with.”

Chimney nearly stumbled as he pulled out of the hug. He looked significantly less cocky than he had a moment before, now flustered and confused, as he glanced between Buck and Hen. Hen wasn’t even looking at them anymore, content to continue reading her book next to them. 

“Uh, we’re not, uh, that’s not-“ 

“Still. Thank you for being there for both of us. You’re a good person, Chim. And a-a good friend.”

Chim’s smile was wobbly as he awkwardly patted Buck’s arm. 

“Thanks, buddy, I try my best… You are, uh, too,” he swallowed and visibly tried to rearm himself with his usual confidence and ease. “Are you going to go find Eddie now? Tell him how much you love him?” He exchanged vaguely evil smiles with Hen when she looked up.

“Uh, yeah, right, I will. Later, I mean. Tonight.”

Hen oohed and Chim chomped down on his gum. Buck felt his face getting warm. 

“No! It’s not like that,” he looked wistfully down at his folded hands, “I do really care about him, though.” 

Hen scoffed aloud and Chim’s smile widened. 

“Yeah, Buckaroo, we can tell.”

“Guys, oh my god, stop-“

Chim reached out to try and give Buck a noogie as Hen cackled. When Buck finally escaped them and the hostile work environment they created on the couch, he couldn’t stop himself from pausing to glance back at them. They were still laughing, Chimney leaning over to get a look at the book Hen was reading. It was hard for Buck to push down the feeling of missing people who were still right in front go him, but he had to go.

For everyone’s happiness, including his own, he had to go. 

He trudged down to the locker room, a mismatched chaos of emotions soaking through his tense muscles. He was still smiling when he reached up to clutch his chest where his heart pounded. It was bittersweet, to know that he found a family and he loved them and they loved him, and to know at the same time that it was easier for everyone if he left. He would leave them with the best version of him, though, not too much messiness or tears or anger—they would remember him fondly. And maybe one day, when his parents finally gave up, he could come back and visit them. They might be angry at first, but after he explained he was sure they would understand. 

When he walked through the doors of the locker room, Eddie was already standing there with his back to Buck, finishing pulling on his shirt, his hair dripping from his shower. (Something sadder than “SexyBack” started playing in Buck’s head.)

He turned around to look at Buck. 

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie said, smiling wide as he continued packing his bag. 

Buck felt his hearing go hollow and his face grow pale. It was probably unhealthy for his blood vessels and circulation with the way his cheeks were vacillating so much between embarrassed warmth and a petrified grey. He couldn’t tell Eddie that he loved him, that would be… that would be inappropriate. And ill-timed.

“H-hey, Eddie.” Buck didn’t dare close the distance between them and sit on the bench next to Eddie. Eddie smiled, confused, and glanced between what he was folding into his bag and Buck’s awkward posture just past the door. 

“You, uh, good?”

“Yeah, I’m great!” He was overcompensating now. “I mean, I’m, uh, you know, good. Chill. Normal, I guess.”

“Right…” Eddie laughed softly and finished zipping up his bag. “You want to grab your hoverboard and we can head home?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll go do that,” Buck coughed into his fist. “Meet you at the car?”

Eddie smiled warmly and hopped up from his seat.

“Sure.” He left Buck in the locker room staring forlornly after him. 

Buck took a moment to center himself, his breathing heavy and unsteady. He looked around the locker room, letting himself take in the names on the lockers, the people he met and was grateful for and would be leaving soon. He let himself take one last peak into the bunk room, too, taking in the laborious and loud center fountain and the haphazard taped-up ceiling tile above his favorite bunk. He would miss it all: every blanket fort, every quiet night when everyone else was on a call, every kitchen mishap, every day he spent with the 118. 

He gently pat the doorway and nearby wall, saying his goodbyes silently. 

His hoverboard felt heavier than usual when he lifted it into the trunk and hopped into the driver’s seat. Eddie was already sitting on the passenger side, his face scrunched up as he texted.

Who could he be texting right now? I’m right next to him, Buck thought as he started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. He waved to Hen and Chim as they walked out of the station. He waved goodbye to the station and to Bobby, who was presumably inside. Eddie still didn’t lift his head from his phone.

When he finally put his phone down, he didn’t look happy but he still smiled at Buck. 

“Listen, I’m going to be busy tonight. No, uh, beer for me—I have to go take care of something later.”

Buck’s eyebrows hiked up his forehead. Maybe he has a date, his evil mind whispered. It wasn’t his business, he decided, especially when he was planning on leaving the same night. 

“Oh, that’s okay, dude, I-uh, me too,” he hesitated for a moment, thinking about the best way to go about this, “would you actually mind driving me to Chim’s after we get ho-back? M-Maddie wants to hang out, she, uh, needs me. I figured I would stay at Chim’s tonight?” He failed to not sound like he was asking for permission. 

Chimney’s place was the closest to the airport.

He tried not to feel too bad about using Maddie as an excuse. She would understand eventually. He planned to text her as soon as he landed—he would see her one day, he had no doubt about that. He just hoped she wouldn’t be too mad at him when he saw her next. 

Something unrecognizable shuttered over Eddie’s face, but he still nodded. 

“Yeah, Buck, of course.”

The rest of the car ride was quiet and uncomfortable. Something heavy was sitting in the air between them, something Buck didn’t quiet understand, but he was unwilling to try and lift it and then go and leave town a few hours later. Maybe this was the best outcome: nothing too emotional or charged with unspoken promises and planning for an unlikely future. He swallowed past the ball of wet cement in his throat. 

They were still quiet when Eddie unlocked the door and they filed into the house. It was dim inside, the sun finished dredging the final vestiges of her warmth from the sky while they drove. 

Neither of them made any move to turn on the lights. 

Eddie went straight to the kitchen while Buck meandered to Eddie’s bedroom. He grabbed his old, green-stained duffle bag out of the corner of Eddie’s closet and unzipped it. He carried it with him back to the living room, where he pulled his clothes out from under the couch as quietly as he could. 

He walked to the bathroom next, pulling open his drawer to get his curl creams and moisturizers. He took one look at his blue toothbrush, tilted in the cup on the counter and next to Eddie’s green toothbrush of the same brand, and nearly burst into tears. He left it where it was. He could get a new one in New York. 

The last thing he wanted to do was leave a note for Christopher, but there was no other way while he was at a sleepover at Pepa’s. He snuck into Chris’s room and listened for Eddie clinking glasses while he unloaded the dishwasher. He tugged the lamp on and sat at Chris’s well-worn desk, unmoving, for a moment. He found a pad of paper and a pen and uncapped it, tapping the nub on the blank paper while he thought. 

Dear Christopher, 

I’m going away and you won’t see me for a while. I’m leaving because there are things outside of my control that make it difficult to stay in L.A. 

I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be confused about why I had to leave, and I want you to know that not every parent is as good as the one you have. I love you and your dad very much and I hope one day you can forgive me and we can see each other again. 

Until then, please take care of your dad and keep working hard at school. You’re the smartest person I know. 

I love you. Be good. 

Love, 

Buck 

PS: I’m sorry for stealing your picture.

He capped the pen and brought the frame holding a picture of the three of them—Buck, Eddie, and Chris all smiling big and tired after a full day at the aquarium—down from the shelf and popped the backing off. He slid the photograph from the frame, creasing the corner of the picture lovingly with his thumb before he replaced it with his note and refastened the frame. He set it back on the shelf and took one last glance at Chris’s many framed photos lining his desk, book shelves, and drawer. 

He was doing that a lot—taking one last glance. He tried to slow every second down and solidify his memory of everything and everyone he cared about in L.A. 

He tucked the stolen photograph safely into his bag. Eddie could always have another one printed. He made sure to turn off the lamp and close the door quietly when he stepped out of the room. 

Eddie was emerging from the kitchen just as Buck turned around. They both froze, looking at each other with uncertainty.

“What’s, uh, what’re you-“

“I needed my book. I, uh, l leant a book to Chris and I needed it back. Just for tonight,” Buck burst out, his words tripping over each other and his voice panicked.

“Uh, okay.” Eddie’s shoulders didn’t fully relax. “Are you alright, Buck? Is something… going on? With you?”

Buck forced himself to smile as his body finally unfroze and he made his way over to his designated spot to leave his shoes. 

“Yeah, Eddie, I’m all good. Sorry, I’m just, I’ve had a weird day, you know?” He huffed out a little laugh.

“Okay, Buck, if you’re sure…"

“Yeah, I am, I’m good. Thanks, Eddie… for uh, caring.” 

They stood with what felt like galaxies between them. Buck’s breath came short, he was getting claustrophobic. He thought Eddie might be able to see straight through him and his wildly beating heart. 

“Of course, Buck, it’s easy-“ he choked but continued on a second later, “it’s easy. To care, I mean. About you. It’s as easy as breathing for me.” He might have been trying to tell Buck something with his eyes, but Buck moved to pull his shoes on to avoid the way he wanted to pull Eddie toward him. He needed to get out of this house. 

“That’s sweet, Eds. Hey, are you ready to go?” 

Instead of breaking the tension, Buck’s attempt made the room feel even heavier. Eddie’s face scrunched up again. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Buck. I’m ready. Let’s get you over to Maddie’s, huh?”

“Yeah,” Buck forced out another painful chuckle, “don’t want to leave her waiting! And I don’t want to keep you from your plans, tonight, either!”

“Right.” Eddie let out a final sigh and wiped a hand down his face.

The drive to Chim’s felt shorter than usual. The radio volume was low and Eddie occasionally drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Buck wished he was driving them. 

When Eddie pulled up in front of the apartment building, he cleared his throat and curled his hand around the top of the gearstick. 

“Do you want me to stick around until-“ Eddie began. 

“No, no need, she’s expecting me! Thanks, though,” Buck’s voice wobbled. 

“Right. Well, uh, I hope you guys have a good night.”

“Yeah, you, too. Good luck with your ‘thing’ tonight.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said, the words gruff and his tone irritated. 

After another moment of silence, Buck couldn’t hold himself back anymore. His hand settled on top of Eddie’s between them. 

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Buck looked at him from beneath his eyelashes, trying not to give away too much of his mourning. He couldn’t change what his eyes were doing, though. Eddie only looked more confused. 

“Goodnight, Buck,” he replied anyway. Buck smiled softly, pulling his hand off of Eddie’s despite it suddenly weighing at least two tons and turning to pull open the door. 

Eddie pressed the door lock button before Buck could get it open. 

“Eddie-“

“No, Buck, whatever’s going on with you, I don’t care what it is, I’m here, okay? I’m here right now if you want to tell me and I’ll be here tomorrow and the day after. Okay?” Buck managed to nod numbly, completely taken off guard. “I just, I-“ 

Eddie examined him for a moment before he reached forward and grabbed Buck by the back of his neck. He pulled him in, hard, until their mouths met. 

Buck sighed into the kiss, and Eddie tilted his head for a better angle. Buck let himself be kissed, despite what he knew it would do to them both later. He would regret this, but at least he got to have it, even for a single moment. 

Eddie did something with his tongue that made Buck gasp and they finally parted, leaning their foreheads against each other. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Eddie breathed out and licked his upper lip. He squeezed the hand resting on Buck’s nape. Buck thought about leaning forward to kiss him again before what Eddie said caught up to him. 

He could only nod. He knew he was lying but he didn’t know what to say that would be true. 

“Tomorrow,” Eddie repeated, tipping his nose forward to brush against Buck’s before he pulled back completely. 

Buck might have blacked out. Within the next moment, before he could finish blinking, he was outside on the curb with his duffle bag. Buck wanted to pinch himself; everything was moving too quickly, he forgot to extend every moment into dissectible screenshots so he could live in these last minutes with Eddie forever. 

Instead, he waved at Eddie inside of his truck, who waved back. Buck waved until Eddie was convinced into driving away.

He pulled out his phone and ordered an Uber and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t crying. 

He made it to the Grinch’s private airline tarmac with only thirty minutes to spare. The airport security line was so brutal he forgot to even feel sad for a moment. He was almost grateful to not be left with his thoughts. If he had the time to think about his decision for too long, he might change his mind; he might realize that everything he ever wanted was in L.A. and the battle he had to fight with his parents would be worth it if he could stay. 

It was better that the plane was so small, only a few other people were joining him on his one-way trip to New York. He was the last on, the flight attendant directing him to sit next to a young man on his phone. 

Buck had only been sitting for about three minutes when he opened his mouth. 

“So, New York City, huh?” 

The guy glanced up from his phone and nodded, humming his agreement. 

“What’re you going, um, I mean, business or pleasure?” Buck wiped his palms back and forth on his jeans, readjusting in his seat. 

“Uh, pleasure, kind of,” the man reluctantly responded. Buck could almost feel the man roll his eyes when, after a moment of silence, he asked, “What about you?”

“Well, uh, it’s more… necessity, I guess? I have this… thing going on with my parents and my job in L.A.” 

The guy hummed again, still scrolling on his phone. Buck took that as permission to talk. 

It was almost five minutes before their scheduled take off when Buck’s story finally trailed off. The guy was glued to his phone, but his face grew more and more pained as Buck spoke. Toward the end, he even lifted his head for a few seconds at a time, staring at Buck as he rambled and incidentally encouraging him to keep going. Buck paused toward the end of his story to breathe. 

“By the way, I’m Buck.”

“Ravi,” the guy sighed, putting down his phone to begrudgingly but politely shake Buck’s hand over their shared arm rest (which Buck was letting Ravi use, it was the least he could do). 

“Nice to meet you, Ravi. As I was saying, that’s when I snuck into Chris’s room to leave him a letter-“

“Thank you for joining us tonight on our flight to New York City. Before we take off, our captain would like to make an announcement,” the flight attendant said using the PA system.

“Good evening, everyone, I actually have a question for one passenger in particular,“ the pilot’s voice echoed through the cabin. Buck sat up a little straighter and leaned further into the aisle when the cockpit door slid open. 

“Eddie?”

Buck thought he might be in shock. Eddie stood there at the front of the plane, wearing a pilot’s uniform and staring at Buck in his seat. 

“Hi, Buck.”

Ravi groaned, dropping his head into his cupped hands. 

“Fuck, I’m never making it to New York, am I?”