Archive of Our Own ^beta

“-and he touches me!” Buck adds, frustration and a tinge of desperation coloring his tone.

Bobby’s eyebrows fly up his forehead, incredulous.

Buck flounders for a moment. “No, not like that. Or, well, I, it’s kind of like that. Okay, no, but not- not really, not…”

“Buck,” Bobby says, slowly, a concerned frown starting to pull at his lips. “It’s alright, just… elaborate for me what you mean?”

Clearly uncomfortable, Buck shifts in his seat, shying away from meeting Bobby’s gaze in favor of staring at a point just past his face. “I just… okay, he- he calls me his little buddy, right, and he… he takes me golfing, and he’s always patting me on the back, or the shoulder, or. I don’t know, it sounds nice out loud, but it feels so weird. Like, slimy? Just, ‘cause, y’know, I feel like I made it pretty clear that I. Don’t like it.”

His eyes flick briefly to Bobby’s face, studying his expression. At the older man’s open face and patient silence, Buck continues. “He also.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Ugh, I just. He keeps mentioning my ‘broody little pout,’ and on one of our calls I mentioned that I played tight end in pigskin and he’s started calling me that too, and I might be going crazy, Cap, but I swear I caught him, like, looking at me all weird one time when he said it.”

Bobby waits another few moments to see if Buck wants to say anything else, but the younger man keeps his mouth shut and his shoulders hunched. Bobby takes a deep breath. “Buck,” He starts, firm but gentle. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

Buck shrugs. “I mean, not like this, but everyone else has been seeing it happen. I don’t know, it’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t know,” Bobby hums. “That sounds like something to call HR about, especially if you’ve told him you don’t like the things he’s saying.”

“What?” Buck’s eyes are on him, now, brow furrowed with confusion and surprise. “No, no, it’s not like that, I said that before.”

“‘Broody little pout?’ ‘Tight end?’” Bobby prods. Buck shifts in his chair, visibly uncomfortable at the reminders. “Look, Buck, clearly he’s making you feel, in your own words, slimy. Especially given the stuff he’s saying, I think that’s more than enough reason for a complaint.”

“Bobby,” Buck half-heartedly protests, but can’t seem to find the words to refute his point. Eventually, he lands on: “I don’t… it’s not that bad, you know? I can, I can handle it a little while longer, at least until you get back.”

Bobby presses his lips into a thin line, not wanting to get into all that, unsure how Buck will take it. He’s always appreciated the kid’s faith in him, naïve as it may be, even if he doesn’t always deserve it. He turns the issue over in his head a few times, deliberating. Finally, he says, “If you’re sure, kid, but please tell someone if it gets worse. You don’t have to handle it if you don’t want to.”

Buck shakes his head. “I know, but it’s way easier than going through the process of reporting anything. Not like anything would change, anyway, he’d just go back to being mad at me.”

Well, that’s a concerning statement. Bobby decides not to push it– for now, that is. Plus, it looks like Buck’s gearing up to say something else.

“And he asked me to pick someone on the team to fire! What the hell do I even say to that, Bobby?”

Oh, Bobby is going to have words with a certain fire captain. Soon. Whenever it wouldn’t completely ruin his chances at getting back to the 118.

Buck is back at his house not even a full week later, a little jumpier than usual and fiddling anxiously with his shirtsleeves. Bobby thinks he has more than enough reason to be properly concerned, at this point. If he didn’t already have enough reason from last time.

“I, um. I just wanted to ask, is, uh, is filing a complaint easier than a report?”

Bobby leads him to the couch. “We can talk about it, but can I ask first what changed that made you want to do this after all?”

Buck picks up one of the throw pillows and squeezes it in his hands, like he’s trying to suffocate it. “He smacked my ass.”

He says it fast, the words tumbling out of his mouth like if he doesn’t rush them, he’ll never say them. Which very well might be true. Bobby feels a sinking in his gut.

“Buck,” He starts. Buck cuts him off.

“-and, he said it seemed like I definitely did play, uh.” He stops. Swallows. Bobby feels sick, equal parts disgusted and enraged.

“Why don’t you want to file a report?” He pivots back to what Buck said before. “You would have an easy case.”

Buck shakes his head. “It’s just such a process, and, y’know, like I said before, it’s not like anything would change.”

“Whatever you choose to do, kid,” Bobby says, tilting his head down to catch Buck’s gaze with his own. “Just know that you have a family behind you to fight for you to get the treatment you deserve. Okay? I want you to do whatever you think is best for you and to give that asshole all the backlash he should get, and we will make sure that whatever action you take actually changes things.”

Buck sighs, frustrated, and buries his head in the throw pillow he’s still squeezing the life out of. “Is it even worth it?”

“If you don’t stop him now, I…” Bobby considers his words. “What’s to say he wouldn’t just keep escalating?”

Buck shudders, takes a deep breath, and raises his head. “No, yeah, you’re right. You’re right.” He huffs out a small laugh. “Actually, part of why I’m here right now is because I told Tommy about this– well, more like I showed up at his place so freaked that he sat me down and basically forced me to tell him the whole story– and he told me that if I didn’t take you up on your offer from last time he’d personally drop Gerrard out of his helicopter, laws be damned.”

Warmth blooms in Bobby’s chest, a mix of amusement and fondness. He’s happy that Buck found Tommy, who seems so willing to care and stand up for him. The kid really, truly deserves it.

“Well, for legal reasons, I shouldn’t say that I’d be willing to help if such an operation were ever conducted, but off the record…” Bobby trails off, the implication clear. At Buck’s surprised laugh, he lets a smile peek through.

“Damn, alright, Cap!” Buck says. “I didn’t know it was like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Bobby laughs. “And, uh, do you want to take a look at the process of filing an official complaint and report?”

Buck sobers. “I, yeah.”

Bobby nods, and goes to find his laptop so he can pull up the information. When he gets back, Buck is looking right at him, his expression shockingly open. “Thanks, Cap.”

Bobby knows enough to pick up on the true sincerity of that statement. For all that he likes to ramble, it can be hard for Buck to open up, and being supported when he does is, unfortunately, not an experience he’s familiar with. Bobby isn’t a particularly vengeful man, but he really, really strongly dislikes the Buckley parents.

He smiles, gentle, determined. “Of course, Buck. Always.”