9-1-1 enjoyer, bucktommy enthusiast

~*~

After living at home with his sister for so many years, constantly fighting over the bathroom or TV or the oxygen in whatever specific room they were in, sharing space with Buck is surprisingly easy.

Before getting to know him, he always kind of imagined Buck as an overgrown frat bro, the type of guy who would party all night before a shift and drag in hung over, and maybe he was at some point. But the Buck that's allowing Harry to share his space is nothing like he imagined. He's a lot quieter than Harry thought he would be, to the point where Harry could forget that he was there if it wasn't his house. He spends a majority of his time in the kitchen, studiously following recipes that turn out the best cookies or bread or almost anything that Harry has ever had while his phone drones a podcast about natural disasters or history or the occasional cryptid.

If he's not baking, Buck is usually working out in his backyard, following a strict routine that makes Harry's whole body hurt just watching him. He wakes up obnoxiously early to go out there and complete a circuit before the heat builds up, even on his days off. He even has a small inside set-up for the rare days that it's raining too much for him to go outside.

He calls his sister every morning around ten, only pushing it back if they're on a scene at work. In the evenings, he likes to kick back and read a couple of chapters of some second hand novel or watch documentaries. He rarely has more than two beers a night, even when he doesn't have to work the next day. He doesn't butt into Harry's business like May or his mom, but he's always willing to listen and offer advice if Harry comes to him with a problem.

For all that, Harry can't help but feel like Buck is hiding something. There are times when he's working at the kitchen table in the morning, only to hurriedly tuck the papers away when Harry shuffles in for his coffee. Sometimes if they're sitting together on the couch, he'll shift away, turning the screen of his laptop so it would be impossible to see if Harry tried to look. Not that he would, though it does spike his curiosity every time. But he and Buck have really only just started to get to know each other and Harry's not interested in pushing his limits. If Buck has something he wants to share, he'll do it in his own time.

~*~

“Hey, Ravi is going to swing by here and pick you up in the morning on his way in. He said to be ready around eight,” Buck tells him one night as he's finishing up making dinner for them both. Harry has started staying over the night before they're set to go on shift since he doesn't have a car of his own yet.

“Okay. Where are you going to be?” Buck usually drives them to work, and while his eclectic music tastes and off-key singing are kind of annoying, it kind of settles the pre-shift jitters Harry still gets on the way to that station.

“I have a therapy appointment. I won't have time to come back by here before shift starts, but it's on Rav’s way so he said he could get you.”

“Oh,” Harry says, a little surprised. “I didn't know you were in therapy.”

“For about six years now,” Buck tells him, offering a plate piled high with pasta and chicken. He looks at Harry for a moment, considering. “You might want to think about looking into it.”

“I don't know,” Harry says, picking up his fork to dig in as Buck sits down across from him. “I mean, do you think I need it?”

“I think with a job like ours, it's a good idea to have someone to talk to,” Buck says, taking a sip of his beer. “It can get heavy. You've been really lucky so far, the calls you've been on haven't been too intense. But it won't be like that forever, Harry. Not everyone we get called to help is going to make it home. And there are other times when home is the worst place they could be and there's nothing you can do.”

Harry considers this as they eat and watch some game show on TV before he turns in for the night. He had been to a few sessions with a child physiatrist after he'd been kidnapped, but had stopped going once the nightmares stopped and everyone seemed fairly certain he was recovering well from the trauma. The thought lingers in the back of his mind while he works his shift, helping to clear car accidents and put out kitchen fires, all fairly minor events that could have been so much worse.

“What do you think about therapy?” He asks May one evening while they split takeout on her couch and the TV drones in the background.

“I went for a while,” She tells him, using her chopsticks to dig through the contents of her container. “It was pretty helpful to have someone to decompress to after hearing the things I did at dispatch.”

“Buck's been going for almost six years.” May nods.

“Makes sense. Buck's been through a lot.”

“Yeah?” May rolls her eyes at Harry's obvious fishing and tucks her legs under herself.

“Yeah. You might have been too young to remember the bombing and him coughing up blood in Mom's backyard.”

The words ping distant memories in Harry's mind. A package left on the doorstep that the police brought a robot to dispose of; Buck, barely more than a colleague of his mom and her new boyfriend staring at Bobby in horror as blood poured down his chin before he collapsed on the back patio.

“Then there was the lightning strike – you were living with Dad and David when that happened, but he almost died. His sister got kidnapped by a serial killer and almost died. And then he was there when Bobby…” May shakes her head. “Not to mention what he deals with at work. So, yeah. It makes sense.”

“Wow.” Harry blows out a breath. There was so much he didn't know, things he had missed living with his dad, events that occurred while he was distracted by legal fallout of what happened in that convenience store.

“There were times…” May pauses, considering her words. “There were times at the call center when Maddie would get really…antsy. Josh said it always happened after she talked to their parents. Then when Buck was in the hospital…it was so weird. It was like they were there for some distant relative instead of their son. I think that's why he leaned so heavily on Bobby. He really did see him as a father.”

It gives Harry an all new set of things to roll over in his mind, thoughts that made him surprise his mother with a tight hug when he got home and plan a video call with his dad for later that week. It also makes him think about Buck in a different way, how he walks through the world with a smile, lets things roll off his back even with the long string of tragedies trailing behind him, weighing him down. Harry wants to be like that, strong enough to hold himself together when the world starts crumbling around him.

The next evening he spends at Buck's, he brings his computer into the living room and asks him to help him navigate the LAFD's website to request sessions with one of their partnering therapists.

“It feels kind of overwhelming. I mean, what if I pick the wrong person?” Harry asks, reading the short biography paragraphs on the screen.

“You might,” Buck nods. “Sometimes it takes a few tries to find a person you feel comfortable sharing the heavy stuff with. But there's no shame in going in for a few sessions, then realizing that person isn't a good match. Sometimes it only takes one.” A strange look comes over Buck's face for a moment, but is gone before Harry can decipher it. “I had to go outside the department to find Dr. Copeland, but I needed help with a whole host of other issues, not just work stuff.”

Buck doesn't offer any further information and Harry doesn't push. He ends up making an appointment with someone named Dr. Campbell and closes the laptop with a blown out breath. Buck pats him on the shoulder.

“You made a good choice, Harry. Putting your health first is the best thing you can do. I'm proud of you.”

The words trigger an emotional response in Harry that surprises him. He swallows hard and nods.

“Thanks, Buck.”

~*~

“Oh, shit.”

“Wha–” Before Harry can get the question out, Ravi is pulling him into a booth and shoving a menu in his face.

“It's Tommy,” Ravi says, using his own menu like a shield to block his profile from the other customers in the shop. “I think he's with somebody.”

Harry risks a glance but he isn't really sure what he's looking for. There's a couple of women with yoga mats leaning against their table, a group of old men sitting by the window having what looks like a heated discussion about current events, and a handful of people scattered around with books or laptops in front of them.

“Sorry, what's happening?” He asks, looking back at Ravi, who is trying and failing to use his phone screen to see over his shoulder. “Who's Tommy?”

Ravi tilts his head like he can't believe Harry would ask such a stupid question, then he nods, relaxing a little in his seat.

“That's right, you weren't really around when all of that went down. We can use that. You see that guy waiting at the counter – tall, plaid shirt, unfairly handsome?” Harry looks again. The guy - Tommy - looks vaguely familiar and after a moment Harry realizes he's one of the firefighters from the funeral. The one that took his place carrying Bobby's casket because Harry couldn't bring himself to touch it when the time came. He nods.

“That's Buck's ex.”

“Oh.” That's new information. Another piece in the puzzle Harry is trying to work out of who Buck really is. Ravi nods, serious.

“Yeah. Like, ‘the one that got away’ level ex. Now, without being obvious, can you tell if he's with that other guy?”

Harry glances up again, trying to look like he's just people watching. Tommy is leaning against the wall while he waits, hands tucked in his pockets, cool and casual. There is a guy next to him, a little shorter but just as broad, talking quickly, his hand gestures getting more animated as he speaks. Tommy is nodding along, seeming only half interested, much to the other guy's annoyance.

“I mean, it looks like they're here together but not like they're together,” Harry reports, looking back at Ravi. “Just two guys getting coffee. Like we're supposed to be doing.”

Ravi rolls his eyes. “Well, we can't leave now. He'll see us and know you were spying on him.” Harry's mouth drops open in surprise and he starts to splutter that it was Ravi's idea in the first place when he sees the teasing smile on the other man's face. “Relax, I'm kidding. We'll just tell them the place was busy. Think of it this way, if it was one of our ex's, what would Buck do?”

Buck would come back to the station with a full play-by-play of the situation, probably with sound effects and a soundtrack, and fully detailed description of the person the ex was with. Harry huffs out a sigh and looks around the shop again, letting his gaze slowly drift back to where Tommy is standing. His heart almost stops when their eyes meet. There's a brief flash of something - recognition? - on Tommy's face and Harry ducks his head.

“I think he saw me.”

“Shit,” Ravi hisses. “Okay, he might recognize you as Bobby's stepson, and he probably knows you work at the station with us, but I don't think he'll come up to you. Just be cool and go get in line.”

Harry sits frozen in confused panic for a moment until Ravi kicks him under the table. He rises and joins the queue of other customers, pulling the list of coffee orders out of his uniform pocket and going over it to look busy. He can feel eyes on him and sends up a prayer to whoever is listening that this guy won't approach him. Luck is on his side, it seems, because the barista calls out two names and a few moments later, Ravi is by his side, patting his shoulder.

“Good work, Probie.”

When they get back to the station, both balancing flimsy cardboard trays, Ravi stops him before they can walk inside, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I don't think we need to mention this Buck. There's really nothing to tell. No reason to get him spun up over what was probably just two friends getting coffee, right?”

“Sure,” Harry agrees. Ravi nods.

“Good man.” Harry had a feeling that if his hands weren't full, he would be patting his shoulder again. “I don't know if my uniforms could survive another round of Buck's avoidance baking. Let's get in there. Chim is probably shitting a brick over how long we've gone.”

Harry trails into the station behind him, a whole new list of questions forming in his mind.

~*~

Harry hops off the engine, followed closely by Ravi, who claps him on the back with the hand not holding his helmet.

“You did a great job on that call, Probie,” He says with a grin. “Way better than I did on my first extraction call.”

It had been an apartment fire with residents still inside. Chimney had reluctantly sent Harry inside with Buck and Ravi, grinding his gum between his teeth as he gave the order. The fire hadn't been raging and the structure was secure, the main concern when they went in was the smoke. A majority of the building had been cleared by the time they arrived, just a few older tenants with mobility issues and a woman who was running a small child care service in her apartment needed assistance getting out safely. Harry is still buzzing with the rush of adrenaline and he grins at Ravi, preening under the praise.

“I had a pretty good teacher,” he acknowledges, nodding toward the truck.

Buck climbs out of the engine after them, grimacing as he steps down onto the concrete floor of the station. He gives Harry a pained smile.

“That was all you, but I'll take the credit.”

“You okay?” Ravi asks, brows pulling down in concern.

“Yeah, just twinged my knee carrying those kids down the stairs. It's a bitch getting old.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ravi sniffs, punching his arm lightly. Buck rolls his eyes and pushes him away. It's familiar, teasing, it reminds Harry of something he and May would do.

“Maybe you should ask Chim to make you man behind next call,” Ravi says, tugging his turn out jacket off, watching Buck wince as he shifts his weight. “We still have about six hours here. You're only going to make it worse if you keep agitating it.”

Buck shakes his head, glancing warily toward Chimney's office. “A few minutes with the heating pad and it will be good as new. I've worked with it aching way worse than this.”

“That's not as comforting as you think it is,” Ravi frowns. Buck waves him off and drops a hand on Harry's shoulder.

“I'm gonna go deal with this, then I'll walk you through how to restock the engine. Great work out there, kid.”

Harry and Ravi watch Buck limp his way up to the loft, and Harry feels his gut twist uncomfortably. He's never seen Buck take a beat, never seen him hurting. It feels weird, like seeing Superman wilt around kryptonite. Ravi blows out a breath and Harry gets the feeling he's thinking the same thing.

“How about I show you how to restock the truck?” Ravi says. “Give Buck a break for once. Plus, you do not need to be subjected to that man with a clipboard yet.”

Harry cocks his head and Ravi gives him an all too knowing smile. “Come on. It's pretty simple. You can probably do it without anyone looking over your shoulder, but I'll go through it with you anyway.”

It is a fairly routine task. Ravi shows him how to check the water levels in the engine, how to make sure the hoses are in good shape and loop them back into position. They go over the supplies in all the compartments and Ravi helps him find the things that need to be restocked in the store room and arrange them the way Buck likes them. It's actually kind of fun. Buck is a great teacher, but Ravi is a little less serious as they go about their work. He's got a way of making little jokes that Harry takes a minute to catch on to, but they're fully laughing together as they start checking the engine levels on the truck.

“What the hell is going on here?” They both look up, surprised by the low simmering anger in Chimney's voice. He's standing in the bay with his arms crossed, watching them with an annoyed expression on his face.

“I was walking Harry through an engine restock,” Ravi says carefully. Chimney makes a noise and turns toward the loft, where Buck is coming slowly down the stairs, still favoring his right side.

“Seriously, Buck? Ravi isn't your probie anymore. You can't just shove your work onto him because you don't feel like doing it.”

“What?” Buck's brows draw down as he tries to take stock of the situation. “I didn't –”

“What kind of example is that to set for Harry, huh? You're the second most senior fire fighter here with Hen out and you can't be bothered to teach him how to do this yourself?”

A look of bewildered hurt flashes across Buck's face for a moment before his expression goes stoney.

“That's not what happened, Cap,” Harry tries to interject. Chimney turns to him with a kind expression on his face.

“You don't need to cover for him, Harry. He should know better.”

“Buck didn't tell me to show him how to do this, Chim,” Ravi steps in. “He didn't know anything about it. We just –”

“It won't happen again,” Buck cuts him off. “Shouldn't have happened at all. Sorry, Cap.”

Chimney scoffs and shakes his head. “Do better, Buck.”

He stalks off, muttering under his breath. Ravi and Harry both turn their gazes to Buck.

“Buck, I'm sorry, we didn't mean–” Buck brushes off Harry's attempt to apologize with a smile that doesn't look quite right.

“Don't worry about it, Harry.”

“That was totally unnecessary,” Ravi disagrees. “There was no reason for him to–”

“Ravi, it's fine,” Buck says with an air of finality. Harry gets the feeling it's not the first time they've had a conversation like this.

“It's really not though. You know that, right?” Buck runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Thank you for taking care of the engine for me. I owe you one. Did you guys get finished?”

“Yeah. We were just wrapping up.”

The alarms sound overhead, and Buck shoots them a grin.

“Well, looks like we have the chance to see if you did it right,” He smacks Ravi's shoulder and moves with everyone else to start pulling his turn outs on. Harry can't help but notice that, while he is moving faster than before, his gait is still a little stilted.

“This place is bad for him,” Ravi mutters under his breath, low enough that Harry hopes he just misheard him.

“What are you two waiting for? A special invitation?” Eddie yells to them as he climbs into the ambulance. Ravi rolls his eyes and runs over to get into the engine behind Buck, Harry on his heels.

The call is a minor car accident, no one seems to be hurt, but one of the drivers is stuck in her car and they'll have to use the jaws to get her out.

“Can you handle the extraction, Buck, or you gonna need Ravi to do that, too?” Chimney asks, snapping his gum. The smile on his face is teasing, but something about it rubs Harry the wrong way. He didn't understand why Chimney was making such a big deal out of what he and Ravi did, why wouldn't even begin to listen to their explanation.

“I got it, Cap,” Buck says with a mock salute. He grunts softly as he hoists the jaws up onto his shoulder and hurries over to the car to get to work on freeing the driver.

This place is bad for him echoes in Harry's head, unbidden, even as he gets his orders and sets to work helping Eddie assess the conditions of the other driver sitting in the back of the ambulance.

For the first time since he had joined the 118, he feels himself starting to wonder if this is really the house Bobby left behind.

~*~

The sudden movement of the couch shifting under him makes Harry jolt. He wasn't sure how long he had been zoned out for, watching the trees sway in the breeze through the window. May was staring at him, her expression halfway to worry.

“You okay? You've been really quiet today.”

Harry is about to tell her that he's fine, there's nothing to worry about. And there isn't. Becoming a firefighter, working at the 118, it had all been incredible so far. So he's about to brush her off when he pauses, thinks.

“Have you talked to Buck lately?” The look on her face shifts from worry to a little guilty.

“Probably not as much as I should since The Bachelor ended,” She admits. “Why? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just…” He looks over his shoulder to make sure their mom isn't hovering in the kitchen. He doesn't want her to overhear and get the wrong idea. She was already so apprehensive about everything since he'd decided to join the academy, she didn't need more fuel to add to the fire.

“Just?” May was leaning in, immediately understanding in the way she always was, reading Harry like a book, following his cues.

“It kind of feels like when we're at the station he's not really Buck.” May arches a perfect eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. “He's really quiet there. He keeps to himself a lot.”

He hadn't really noticed it at first, everyone at the station had been in ‘tease the new probie’ mode, Buck included. There had been pranks, jokes, and a list of chores that even his mother would have been impressed by. He had taken it all in stride, just happy to be a part of it all, to follow in Bobby's footsteps at his firehouse, eager to prove that he belonged there. After a few shifts, the newness had worn off and everyone returned to what he assumed was their usual down time business. Small groups of firefighters gathered around the TV or a table, talking and playing cards, laughing. Harry had been invited to join in several times and he was starting to get pretty good at the various games they played. But then he did notice. While everyone else was in their little bubbles, Buck was in the kitchen alone, head down as he measured ingredients and put together a meal that everyone thanked him for, but took back into their own corners while Buck sat alone at the long table in the middle of the room, reading articles on his phone. He wasn't the big and boisterous Buck that had sprawled across May's couch on Monday nights, throwing popcorn at the TV or trained Harry into the ground so he could make it through the academy.

“That's not that weird,” May said with a little shrug. “Sometimes people just have a different persona at work.”

“Maybe. But I don't think that's what this is. I mean, you remember the stories Bobby used to come home with. How Buck and Eddie used to drive him up the wall with their antics? They barely talk now. And Chimney is…he doesn't treat Buck like everyone else.”

“Well, Buck is his brother-in-law. A little favoritism is–”

“That's the thing, it's not favoritism. It's more like every move Buck makes is wrong. Sometimes it feels like he's looking for things to rag him about.” May frowns, a little furrow appearing between her brows. Harry knows what she's thinking - that doesn't sound like Chimney, not the one she knows.

“What does Buck say when he does that?”

“Nothing. He just lets him walk all over him. It's just…it's really been bothering me.”

May worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment then sighs.

“Harry, I know this isn't what you're going to want to hear, but I think for now it's best if you just stay out of it. It's sweet that you want to stand up for Buck, but putting yourself in the middle of it is the worst thing that you can do until you know everything. Buck and Chimney have been working together for a long time, Chimney is married to his sister, we don't know what they have going on between them. Trying to step in without knowing the whole story will cause more harm than good.”

“I don't know.” He thinks about the look on Buck's face Chimney yelled at him, of Ravi saying the 118 wasn't good for him anymore.

“I know you guys have gotten a lot closer in the last few months, but you have to remember that just because we've been around Buck for most of our lives, we don't really know him,” May says gently. Harry meets her eyes.

“Maybe I want to change that.”

She studies his face and nods slowly.

“Maybe we both should.”

~*~

May does invite Buck and Harry over the next week, insisting in their group chat that they find a new trash TV show to fill the space until the new season of the Bachelor starts. Harry agrees immediately, since it was kind of his idea, but it takes Buck longer to reply. They know he read the message, but he doesn't answer for a day and half.

Buck: Yeah. I can do Monday.

Harry is hanging out with friends from high school who are trying to pump him for cool work stories on Monday afternoon when May sends a message to the group chat.

May: Hey, sorry, I need to cancel. My car is making this weird noise so I need to find a mechanic 😭

Buck: I can take a look, if you want. Might save you some $$

May: You're literally the best!

When Harry's friends drop him off in front of May's house later, she and Buck are standing in the driveway, bent over her car.

“Looks like it was just a loose ground,” Buck tells her, using the wrench in his hand to indicate to the battery. “Not too uncommon, though it usually happens more on rougher roads.”

“You've never been in the car with May,” Harry teases. “I don't know if there's a curb in the city she hasn't hit at least once.”

May smacks his arm and sticks her tongue out. Buck laughs and leans back over the engine, hands dancing over different parts with practiced ease.

“You should be good,” He confirms, letting the hood fall back into place and wiping his hands on a rag he pulls from his back pocket. “Probably wouldn't kill you to get an oil change soon though.”

“I know, I've been meaning to that, but it keeps slipping my mind,” May admits. “Bobby used to take care of all the car maintenance stuff.”

Buck nods, his expression flickering for a moment before he gives her a soft smile.

“Tell you what. Bring her over to the house this weekend, I'll pick up the stuff and teach you how to do it yourself.”

“You don't have to do that.” Buck shrugs.

“I don't have anything else to do. Plus, it's a good skill to have.”

“Can I come, too?” Harry asks. He may not have his own car yet, but it would be cool to be able to surprise his mom by taking care of it for her. Buck grins.

“Sure. Maybe we'll even get adventurous and I'll teach you how to change a flat while we're at it.”

*

A few weeks later, Harry is walking home after a session at the gym when he sees Buck's truck parked next to his mom's SUV in the lot of her apartment complex. He's ashamed to admit the first thought that crosses his mind is pretty unsavory and he's beyond relieved when he finds his mom sitting on her couch flipping through a magazine when he walks inside.

“Buck here?” He asks, kicking his shoes off by the door.

“He's looking at the dryer,” Athena informs him, swirling the wine in her glass. “The clothes are coming out damp.”

“Don't you have a landlord for that?” Athena raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Harry raised his hands in silent surrender and walked over to the fridge for a bottle of water.

“I do, in fact. But I've called him twice and he still hasn't shown up. Bobby always said Buck was handy to have around the station, and I knew he would actually show up.”

Buck chooses that moment to emerge from the laundry room, a small tool bag hanging off of his shoulder.

“I'm pretty sure it was just a loose connection, but if you're still having problems with it the next time you use it, I can come back,” He offers. “Oh, hey, Harry.”

“You're a mechanic and an appliance repairman now?” Harry jokes. Buck shrugs and gives him a wistful grin.

“I got friendly with the contractors I worked with doing construction. They taught me a few things.”

“Which, I for one, am grateful for,” Athena says. The doorbell rings. “That's dinner. You should join us, Buck.”

“Oh, that's nice of you, but I have a…” Buck trails off when Athena trains her eyes on him. Harry covers his mouth to keep from laughing as Buck's ears turn a light shade of pink. “I mean, yeah, dinner sounds great. What are we having?”

*

Harry stares at the bunk over top of his, wondering if Herrera would come down and kick his ass if he whacked the underside. Dude snored like a freight train, Harry didn't know how anyone got any rest when he was in the bunk room.

He pushes himself up off the mattress and leaves the room, wandering back into the loft. If he couldn't sleep, maybe he should try to get a workout in instead. Buck hadn't been going easy on his training regimen, but he had canceled on a couple of their usual sessions and Harry can feel the difference those few days off made.

Buck is still awake, sitting at the head of the long table hunched intently over his laptop.

"Your back is gonna hurt tomorrow if you don't straighten up," Harry jokes. Buck startles and snaps the computer closed quickly, blinking in surprise. Harry raises an eyebrow.

"What are you doing up?" Buck asks, ignoring the obvious question there. "I thought everyone was pretty wiped after all those calls today."

"I could ask you the same thing," Harry points out as he walks across the kitchen to the sink for a glass of water. He gets one for Buck, too, and sets it on the table next to him.

“Thanks. Seriously, why are you up? You alright? That car accident was pretty brutal.”

“I'm good. Just couldn't sleep with Herrera sawing logs in the bunks.” Buck laughs.

“Yeah. I'm pretty sure he needs to be tested for sleep apnea.”

They sit in silence for a moment, Harry sips at his water, Buck picks a glittery sticker stuck haphazardly to the corner of his laptop, a souvenir from his last babysitting adventure.

“Hey, can you show me where to find the new uniform acquisition form? I think I snagged my pants on a piece of metal or something at that last scene. The rip is pretty bad and Mom doesn't have a sewing machine anymore.”

Buck looks thoughtful for a moment and drums his fingers against the table.

“Let me see them.”

Harry feels his eyebrow raise again, but he goes to retrieve the tattered pants from his locker and hands them over. Buck lays them out on the table and looks over the tear, it's about six inches long, but not as ragged as Harry originally thought it was.

“I can fix this easy,” Buck tells him. He walks over to one of the drawers and digs around for a moment before returning with a small sewing kit. Harry watches him thread a needle and set to work, carefully reconnecting the pieces of fabric

“Were you a tailor's apprentice before you came to LA, too?” He asks. Buck flicks his eyes to him for a second and chuckles.

“No. That's one of few jobs I didn't have.”

“So, what, you took up sewing for fun?”

Buck is quiet for a moment, his focus locked in on the stitches he was placing.

“I wasn't much older than you when I left my parents house,” He finally says. “All I had was what I could shove into a couple of bags, a few hundred bucks of what was supposed to be my tuition for the semester, and a Jeep Maddie gave the keys to. I was able to find work pretty easily, but nothing that paid all that great. Between gas and food, and trying to impress every girl I could, I was kind of perpetually broke. I figured out pretty fast that if I messed up what little I had, I couldn't afford to just buy replacements, so I learned how to make it last. Went to libraries on my days off and watched videos about how to sew or fix my car or cut my hair. I shadowed the people I worked with that I knew would teach me, practiced the skills until I made myself an asset. I've done a little bit of everything – bartending, construction, ranch work, even went through most of the training to become a Navy SEAL. Nothing stuck until I got here though.”

Buck snips the thread and holds the pants up, gives the leg he just fixed a sharp tug. The stitches hold tight and he grins at Harry before tossing them to him.

“Good as new.”

Harry looks down at the pants and back at Buck as he puts the sewing kit back together.

“Why do you think firefighting stuck when everything else didn't?”

Buck purses his lips for a moment.

“I don't know. I liked helping people. I liked looking like the bad ass hero. Plus, I look great in the uniform.” He shoots Harry a wink and stands up, moves to put the kit back where it belongs. He's facing away from Harry when he speaks again. “Plus, there was something different about this place. The way you have to trust the person next to you implicitly and they have to trust you. Having a whole team of people that are supposed to have your back in the most desperate times…that was what I'd been looking for my whole life. Seeing the way Bobby ran this place, I was pretty sure I found it as soon as I walked through the doors.”

Harry rubs his thumb over the new stitches in his pants, and thinks about everything Buck has done to help him, all the effort he's put into him. Thinks about him fixing May's car and his mom's dryer.

“Do you think you could teach me some of the stuff you've learned some time? Show me how to be an asset?”

“If you want, I don't see why not.” Buck pats his shoulder. “But right now we should both try to get some sleep. We're no good to anyone if we can't keep our eyes open on the next call.”

“I guess you're right.”

Buck grabs the glasses off the table and goes to put them in the dishwasher as Harry starts back in the direction of the bunks.

“Hey, Buck.” Buck turns to look at him. “I'm really glad this is the place that stuck.”

Buck gives him a soft smile.

“Me, too, kid.”

~*~

Shift starts with a flurry of activity. The crew was just about to sit for their morning briefing when the alarms sounds and 12 pairs of boots start running for their gear.

“Harry,” Chimney shouts over the melee, pulling on his coat. “You're with Diaz.”

Harry pauses and looks at Buck, who only shrugs and grabs his helmet.

“He's the cap. Just follow Eddie's lead, it'll be fine.” He sends Harry a mock salute and runs for the engine, climbing in behind Ravi and closing the door.

Harry runs to the ambulance and gets into the passenger side as Eddie slides behind the wheel and gives him a wide grin. He has no idea why Chimney has paired them together, he's never expressed any interest in being a paramedic, but he knows they’re still a person short while Hen is recovering. Maybe he couldn't find anyone to fill in today and just picked Harry for the experience.

It is actually a pretty good learning experience. While the rest of the team is doing the grunt work of prying the cars involved in the accident open and carefully extracting the victims, Eddie walks him through how to check for a concussion, check for broken bones and possible internal injuries, things that are covered in the academy, but are a totally different ball game out in the field with real people.

When they get back to the station, Eddie shows him around the back of the rig, where supplies are stored and how to restock them, how the different pieces of equipment work, gives him a basic rundown of how a hospital transport usually goes in various situations. That information turns out pretty helpful on their next call, when Harry is squeezing air into the lungs of a girl not much younger than him under Eddie's calm guidance.

“You're doing great, just keep a steady rhythm. Not too hard or too fast.”

It's a whole new kind of adrenaline rush, Harry's hands are shaking when the hospital staff takes over outside of the ER and wheel the girl away. He watches the doors slide closed behind him and Eddie squeezes his shoulder lightly before directing him back to the ambulance, the passenger side inside instead of the back this time.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks after a long while of silence that Harry has spent replaying every moment of the ride.

“It felt way more intense than I thought it would,” Harry says. “But it was kind of incredible.”

Eddie nods, a little grin playing over his face.

“You did an awesome job for your first run. More time, a few classes, you'd make a great medic.”

“I don't know about that.” But the idea gets the gears turning in his head. Having those skills, being able to do more than just one job, wouldn't be a bad thing. It's the kind of thing that would make him an asset, just like he and Buck had talked about. Maybe he should consider doing more training in the future.

Chimney keeps him assigned to the ambulance for the next two shifts. He watches Eddie and another paramedic work on a car crash victim with amazingly steady hands as the rig rocks around sharp turns at top speed. He helps support people who are in shock after the worst moments of their lives, assists in stitching up wounds and assessing injuries. It's rough work, but he comes out understanding the job on a different level. When their shift ends on Thursday, he unlocks his phone and finds a text from Hen waiting for him.

A little birdie told me you're trying to steal my job 😂 come over tomorrow night and we can talk about it.

Harry agrees and they plan dinner for the following evening. It will be nice to decompress with Hen, and it will give him time to mine her wealth of experience, a chance to ask about classes, if she thinks he has what it takes to really delve into that kind of work. He is surprised when he arrives at the house and Eddie and Chimney are already there.

“What's going on?” He asks, slipping off his coat and tossing it over the back of the couch. Hen smiles.

“I thought it would be fun to invite the guys. Make it a paramedics night.”

Harry's gut twist a little. It's not that he doesn't like spending time with everyone, he's been breaking bread with them whole life. But something about this feels different. “Paramedics night” feels strangely pointed, a direct exclusion. He frowns.

“I'm not a paramedic,” He points out.

“Not yet,” Chimney grins. “But Diaz told me about your stellar work. I saw some of it. You have the right stuff.”

Hen waves for him to come to the table and he moves on instinct. He sits beside Eddie who slaps his shoulder again, like he has been all week. What he had considered a friendly gesture just yesterday feels different now.

“So, what? You were trying to job trap me?” He asks, feeling his fist clench on his thigh under the table. Chimney frowns.

“Of course not.” He sets his elbows on the table and leans a little closer. “Now that you say it, pairing you with Eddie and then doing this little dinner does make it look that way, I guess. No, Harry. I just…” Chim pauses, thinks about his words for a moment. “When I started at the 118, it was a totally different place. I didn't really feel like I belonged until I started working on the rig. I know you don't have that problem, but we had the opening and I guess I just thought it would be a good idea.”

“It's also great experience,” Hen adds. “It's a part of the job not everyone steps up to do. It also allows you to work with other people. Switch things up.”

“And gives you a little break,” Chimney adds, elbowing Eddie lightly. They laugh like there's some kind of inside joke between them.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Harry felt more exhausted after a run on the ambulance than he ever has after fighting a fire or clearing a scene. Eddie exchanges a look with the other and sighs.

“You're spending a lot of time with Buck,” He explains. “Don't get me wrong, Buck is a great guy, he's probably one of the best people I'll ever meet in my life, and he's an awesome fire fighter. But he can be a little…clingy.”

“What Eddie means is,” Hen jumps in quickly, “Buck helped you learn the job, we know you're kind of looking to him as a mentor because of that. And that's not a bad thing, he can teach you a lot. But he doesn't know everything. We don't want you to get so focused on what you're doing with him that you never try to learn the other aspects.”

“You think working with Buck is holding me back?”

Harry almost can't believe what he's hearing. Buck is the third most senior firefighter at the station, second with Hen out on leave. He's done nothing but push Harry since the second he asked for help.

“No, that's not it at all,” Chimney answers with a shake of his head. “Look, we all know how magnetic Buck is. It can be hard to see past him sometimes. I just want to make sure you're getting a well rounded experience during your first year.”

Harry scoffs before he can stop himself. Chimney opens his mouth to keep going, but Hen lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe that's enough for now,” She says. “We should move on to dinner and you can tell me about what you learned this week instead.”

“Actually, I'm not really all that hungry anymore.” Harry stands up a little more roughly than he meant to, his chair scraping across the floor making a noise that sounds as unpleasant as he feels. “I appreciate the invitation, but I'm going to head out.”

“No, Harry–” He shakes his head.

“I'll see you all later.”

He grabs his coat and walks out, ignoring their calls for him to come back.

*

Harry spends a while driving aimlessly around town in the car he'd borrowed from his mom for the evening. He wants to let his anger simmer down before he goes home, he knows his mom will pick up on his mood immediately and want to talk about whatever is bothering him and he really doesn't even know how to explain it to himself.

The thing is, he can see where Chimney is coming from. It really was a good idea to move him around to learn new things. He had enjoyed working with Eddie and the other paramedics. He's glad he did it. But the way they talked tonight made it all feel kind of underhanded. Like he or Buck would have rejected the idea if Chimney had brought it up outright. It makes him feel like they think he's a dumb kid can't understand the importance of stepping out of his comfort zone.

This place is bad for him.

Ravi's voice echoes around in his head, intermingling with everything the others had had to night. He wonders if maybe that won't end up being true for him, too.

After a while, he decides to drive to Buck's and see if he can stay the night there. He can't get his thoughts to settle and he knows Buck won't push him to talk about it. The house is mostly dark when he pulls up, only a dull light shining through the living curtains, like the glow of a lamp. He uses the key Buck had made for him to let himself in, expecting the man to poke his head around the corner and shoot him a grin before going back to whatever he was doing. But the house stays silent.

Buck is on the couch, snoring lightly, his neck bent at an uncomfortable looking angle. There's a book open in his lap, notes and highlighter lines scattered across the pages and a notepad laying on the couch next to him. Harry walks closer, planning to just wake him up and go to his own guest room and stew some more, but curiosity gets the best of him. He reads over some of the page and looks at Buck's detailed notes. He lays a hand on Buck's arm and shakes him gently.

Buck wakes with a low groan, then a start. Harry takes a quick step back just in case his first instinct is to swing at the intruder in his home. He hadn't been expecting him, after all, it wouldn't be a totally unwarranted move. Buck relaxes quickly when he realizes who has been sneaking around his house uninvited, giving him a small, tired smile before stretching and popping his neck.

“Hey, Harry. When did you get here?”

“Just a minute ago,” Harry shrugs. “I figured you might be more comfortable in your bed.”

Buck nods and moves to stand. The book, forgotten in his sleepy haze, falls to the floor with a thud. Buck looks confused for a moment, and leans down to pick it up before he pauses. He looks up at Harry with wide eyes, almost like he's an animal that's been caught in a trap. Harry holds his gaze and gives him a small nod.

“You should do it.”

~*~

Buck is hovering over Harry's shoulder in the station's kitchen as he measures out ingredients for the recipe laid out in front of them. It's not a particularly difficult dish, but Harry has learned that Buck is kind of a backseat chef that likes to cook in a very specific way and it's best to just roll with it. He hears footsteps coming up the stairs and looks up to see Chimney rounding the corner, laptop balanced on one forearm, doughnut clenched between his teeth. Harry nudges Buck and nods towards him and they spend a long moment exchanging increasingly exaggerated looks before Buck sighs and looks up.

"Hey, Cap?"

"What?" Chimney mutters around the doughnut, jabbing at the keyboard with one finger.

"I, uh, I submitted a request for a day off a couple of days ago and it hasn't been approved yet. I–"

"I'll get to it," Chimney says, cursing at the computer and jabbing a few more buttons.

"I really need that day, Chim."

"Yeah, Buck, I'll get to it." Chimney's phone rings in his pocket and he curses again, hurrying off toward his office, juggling his belongs.

"He'll take care of it," Buck says, ignoring the hard look Harry is giving him in favor of stirring the pot he has on the stove. "Finish up with those peppers, man. This needs to go in the oven."

*

Buck brings up the vacation form a few more times over the course of the week, usually only getting a grunt or a thumbs up in response.

"He's got a lot of stuff to do," Buck tells Harry when he asks why he doesn't push harder for Chimney to approve the day.

"So much that he can't click one button on the computer?"

"Captain is a tough job, Harry," Buck sighs, wiping his hands on a yellow cloth. "There's tons of paperwork. It'll be fine."

Harry knows it isn't fine. He can see Buck's frustration building with every day that passes that Chimney continues to ignore the request. He finds himself wondering if Chimney would be putting any of the others off like this, if Ravi or Eddie or even himself would be left dangling in limbo waiting for it to be approved. When another day passes without confirmation, Buck puts his phone down a little harder than necessary and goes into the kitchen and starts banging around.

"I'll take care of it," He says in answer to Harry's concerned look. "It's cool."

*

Hen comes to visit during their next shift. There's a tense moment where she meets Harry's eyes, an unasked question in her eyes, but it melts away when Buck whoops with excitement and sweeps her off her feet into a hug. Harry hasn't said anything about the disastrous dinner at her house.

Buck puts a hand at her back to help her up the stairs, asking how she's been feeling, if the recipes he's been making and dropping by have been helping at all, what her kids and Karen have been doing. Everyone is thrilled to see her, and it's a nice visit. Until Chimney comes storming into the loft and stops right in front of Buck, furious.

"Did you seriously go over my head? To the chief?"

"Chim–" Ravi starts, but Chimney holds up a hand.

"No. I want to know what's so damn important that Buckley felt the need to undermine me and–"

"Whoa," Harry says. "Buck asked you multiple times about the vacation form–"

"Stay out of this, Grant," Chimney snaps, eyes still on Buck. "Come on, Buck, spill. What's so pressing that you decided making me look incompetent to the chief was the best move?"

Everyone at the table is tense, but Buck looks unerringly calm. He meets Chimney's eyes, not backing down from the anger burning there.

"I'm taking the captaincy exam."

There's a moment of stunned silence before a few whispers start. A group of people leave the area quietly, not wanting to be involved in the fallout, but several others linger, watxhing with the same morbid curiosity of a crowd at the scene of a bad car accident. Chimney looks even more frustrated at the revelation, throwing his hands up in the air.

"You can't just jump up and decide to take the captaincy exam Buck. You have to take the lieutenants exam first and–"

Buck reaches down in the bag that had been slung over his shoulder when Hen surprised them earlier and tosses a packet of paers with the official LAFD logo emblazoned across the front. They all look down at like it like it's a venomous snake coiled to strike before Hen reaches and reads over them, her eyebrows rising in surprise. She passes them to Chimney, who sinks into a chair to the study the words, Ravi and Eddie looming up to read over his shoulder.

"When did you do this?" Eddie asks, obviously just as surprised as everyone else.

"A little over a year ago. Bobby told me I should do it, start moving myself forward, give myself options."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hen asks. Buck shrugs.

"I figured if I failed, no one would ever need to know I tried," He said, trying to keep his tone casual. "The results didn't come back until after Bobby..." He stopped, his mouth twitching slightly. "Then it really just didn't feel like it mattered anymore."

Hen looks like she wants to say something, insist that it of course it mattered and Buck shouldn't have kept it from them, but Buck shakes his head.

"Look, I don't want to make a big deal out of this. I'm not gunning for anyone's job, I'm not looking to leave. I just...I need to this. For Bobby. For me."

He leaves the table without another word, ignoring Eddie and Ravi's calls of his name as they follow after him.

~*~

May insists that they throw a party for Buck, despite the resistance she gets from the man himself.

"We don't even know if I passed," Buck says over the phone from the cab of his truck. They're on a big group call - Buck, May, Maddie, and Harry and Ravi, who are still on shift. They all wanted Buck to call them when he finished his test, eager to hear how things went. Eddie and Chimney are lingering close by, too, but there isn't enough room for them all to gether around the tiny screen.

"Of course you passed," Maddie says. "But even if you didn't, you took a chance on yourself, and that's worth celebrating, too."

"It feels like a jinx to throw a party before the results come by," Buck says.

"Jinxes aren't real," Eddie calls out, laughing when Buck mutters 'traitor' under his breath.

"So it's settled. Party tomorrow when you guys are off shift," May says, decisively. "Don't worry, Buck, we'll handle everything!"

⁹May's version of "handling everything" was sending Harry and Ravi out in separate directions to gather supplies, food, and drinks, while she and Maddie spent the afternoon in Buck's house, hanging decorations and setting up.

"Yeah, I got the cake," Harry tells her as he struggles to get the bakery door open with the phone pressed against his ear with shoulder and his hands occupied with the box containing the oversized cake. "I haven't forgotten about your grocery order. Would you chill? Buck said he didn't want a big thing."

They're still squabbling when Harry gets the cake loaded into the back of the car. When he looks through the window into the coffee shop across the street, he pauses, still ducked inside the car. A familiar figure is standing in the line, dressed in a LAFD uniform.

"May, I have to go." He hangs up before she can retort and closes the door, already moving across the road before he can stop himself.

What would Buck do for us? Ravi's voice echoes in his mind as he opens the door to the shop.

He walks up to the over firefighter and holds out his hand.

"Hey, you don't know me, but my name's Harry Grant.”

~*~

For all of May's talk and the long list of errands she had given Harry, Buck's party is fairly low-key. The 118 gather into his home, hugging and congratulating him under the artful “Congratulations Captain Buckley” sign May and Maddie have spent the day creating.

When Chimney arrived after dropping the kids off at the Lee's for a sleepover, he had looked properly chastised for spending months talking down to a man he should have been treating as more of an equal. He and Buck had disappeared into another room for a while to talk privately, and when they returned some of the tension between them had obviously eased.

Everyone is having a great time, even Athena, though Harry can see that being around everyone without Bobby there is still a strain on her. There's pride in her eyes as she hugs Buck then holds him at arms length.

“I never imagined that punk kid I met ten years ago would ever be a fire captain,” She says and Buck ducks his head with a little grin. “You've become a great man, Evan Buckley.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Grant.” Athen gives him a look, half annoyed, half amused and reaches into her bag to pull out a small notebook, battered and stained.

“If Bobby were here, he'd tell you that the heart of any fire house is its kitchen. I know he made so many people feel safe and welcome with the cooking, you included. And I know you'll do that too, because you've already done it with my son.” She places the book in his hands. “His recipes belong in a fire house, and they belong with you. He'd be so proud of you, Buck.”

Buck has to tuck his face against her shoulder for a long moment while they hug again. He rubs his sleeve over his face and clasps the book tightly.

“I, uh. I should go put this in a safe place. I'll be right back,” He says before taking off down the hall. When he comes back, he's collected himself, though his eyes are still a little misty.

They're in the middle of a conversation with Ravi and May when there's a knock at the door. Buck looks around with a slight frown, because everyone is already there, then looks back at May.

“Did you invite someone else?”

“No,” She says, just as confused. Buck set his beer on the table and goes over to open it and everyone seems to freeze for a moment.

“Tommy,” Buck breathes and the man on the doorstep smiles, a little sheepish. “What are you– I mean, come in, but how did you…?”

“Your probie invited me,” Tommy says, stepping inside when Buck moves to the side to make room. “I didn't want to miss the chance to congratulate you.”

“I'm glad you made it.”

Harry has never seen Buck like this. It's almost like he's shy in the other man's presence, his cheeks are pink, and he has this small, soft smile on his face. They stand in the middle of the room just staring at each other for a long moment before Buck looks at Harry.

“You invited him? But how did you…?”

“Now that's a funny story,” Tommy says with a small smirk. “He got my number from Sal.”

“Sal Deluca?” Buck's face is a mix of wonder and mild horror. Tommy nods.

“Apparently he just walked right up to him in the middle of a coffee shop and asked him if we were dating and if he could have my number.”

“You accosted Sal Deluca in public?” Buck asks.

“To be fair, I wasn't aware I wasn't supposed to look him in the eyes,” Harry says. “Tommy told me that later on the phone.”

“Holy shit.”

“Sal was extremely impressed. I think that's why he actually gave him my number.” His smile turns soft again as he looks back at Buck. “I'm glad he did.”

The mood of the party changes after that. Even as Tommy makes his rounds to say hello and catch up with everyone, he and Buck can't stop looking at each other from across the room. After a while, they give up the pretense of caring that anyone else is there and Buck leads him out to the back patio, closing the door between them and the rest of the world.

After nearly an hour, it becomes clear to everyone that they won't be rejoining them and the party is effectively over. They all seem amused, and Ravi puts a hand on Harry's shoulder with a smile.

“Good call, Probie.”

They all trickle out of the house, Harry assuring them that he'll take care of the clean up since he and Buck have plans the next day and he's staying the night. He puts the leftovers in the fridge and takes down the scattered decorations before going back to the guest room to settle in for the night. He can hear the muffled sounds of Buck and Tommy's voices in the backyard as they continue to talk late into the night, the low hum of them lulling him into a light sleep.

The squeak of the patio door sliding open roust him awake and he hears their slow approach to the front door.

“I'm really glad you came,” Buck says quietly.

“Me, too,” Tommy agrees. “Evan, I…”

“I know. I missed you, too.”

There's a long stretch a silence then hears Buck say,

“Stay.”

The lock on the door snicks and two pairs of steps move further into the house. Buck's bedroom door closes behind them.

~*~

Harry bursts into Buck's room with his laptop already open and loaded to the LAFD personnel page. Buck and Tommy are still sleeping soundly, Tommy pressed up against Buck's back, one hand under his sweatshirt to grip one of his pecs possessively.

“It's results day!” Harry announces eagerly. Buck cracks one eye open and groans.

“Go away, Harry,” He mutters, pulling the blankets up over his head.

“May has already called me three times to see if you've checked them yet. And the group chat is going off, too.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry stands his ground and Tommy nudges Buck's shoulder with his forehead.

“I don't think he's leaving until you check them, baby.”

Buck groans again, but pulls the blanket away from his face to set up. He takes the laptop grumpily, muttering as he types in his login information.

“Wakes me up at 7:30 in the morning and doesn't even have the decency to bring coffee.”

He navigates through the site and studies the screen, his lips moving silently as he reads.

“I passed.”

It's exciting news, but Buck's voice comes out strangely flat as he announces it.

“That's fantastic, sweetheart. I knew you would.” Tommy presses a kiss to his cheek and Buck turns to smile at him, but it looks hollow and forced.

“Yeah, it's great.” He pushes the computer off of his lap and throws the covers completely off himself. “I need to– I…I'll be right back.”

He pushes himself out of the bed and walks to the ensuite and shuts the door behind him. Harry watches him go in stunned silence, then turns to Tommy, who is climbing out of bed himself, grabbing his keys and wallet off the nightstand.

“Harry, why don't you go out and get us all some breakfast, okay? Take your time.”

“Is Buck okay?” Harry asks. Tommy looks at the closed bathroom door, his brow furrowing down with concern.

“He will be,” He finally answers. “He just needs a minute.”

Harry spends nearly an hour fooling around in town before he stops for a large box of donuts and pastries and takes the long way back to Buck's house. On the way, he gets a text alert for the group chat from Buck announcing his test results. The remainder of the drive is a constant barrage of responses that he assumes are congratulations from everyone else.

Buck is sitting on the kitchen counter when he comes into the kitchen, watching Tommy fix two cups of coffee with the same lovestruck expression that most of Tommy's movements elicit from him. He smiles at Harry when he places the box on the counter, making his presence known.

“Hey, there you are. May and Ravi want us all to go out to lunch this afternoon and celebrate ‘officially’ time.” This is said with a roll of his eyes, but Harry can tell he's actually pleased, maybe even touched, by the attention.

They take their turns showering and getting ready to meet Ravi and May. Harry comes out of the guest room and finds Buck standing alone in the alcove near the kitchen, holding the picture of him and Bobby, and he finally realizes why Buck had been upset that morning.

“I miss him,” Buck says, not looking up. “Especially on days like this.”

“Me, too,” Harry says, walking over to put a hand on Buck's shoulder. “But he's still here. He left pieces of himself in all of us.” Buck nods and wipes his eyes.

“Yeah, he really did.” He returns the picture to where it belongs and gives Harry a watery smile. “Thanks, kid.”

“Any time.”

~*~

The camera flashes are blinding as Chimney pins the badge on Harry's chest, smiling proudly at him.

“Congratulations, Harry Grant. You're officially a firefighter with the Los Angeles Fire Department.”

There's claps and cheers from the small crowd watching the ceremony, and more than a few tears as Athena carries his helmet up the aisle to him. Harry almost can't believe that he's here, that it's been a full year since he graduated from the academy and started his probationary period. That he made it through that year in one piece.

The whole evening feels like a whirlwind of faces and handshakes and hugs. Everyone is there, even his dad and David have flown in to celebrate. May takes what feels like a million pictures in various rotations of their family before Harry asks if they can take a break and get some food before it's all gone.

“I just need one more shot,” She tells him, and looks over her shoulder at the crowd. “Hey, Buck, come here!”

Buck looks over from where he and Tommy are standing, leaning back against one of the engines. Tommy takes his glass and Buck picks his way through the people to get to them.

“What's up? You need me to get a picture of you two?”

“Maybe later,” May says. “Right now I want one of you and Harry.”

“Oh.” Buck looks surprised, but he grins and moves to Harry's side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Great job, Harry. I knew you'd make it.”

They smile for May, then hover over her shoulders to look at the photo.

“That's a good one,” Buck says. “I usually blink.”

“Yeah, it's great.”

The photo is nearly a replica of the one on Buck's bookshelf. A mentor and their student standing proudly side by side.

It isn't difficult to lift a defective clone. It is near impossible to steal a new clone; the security at the warehouses rival the battalion armory down at Glint Street 77. But one that's returned and marked for destruction? No one looks at it closely enough.

Him. No one looks at him.

Tommy follows Sal into the dispatch center, both of them fully geared up, complete with the oh-so-helpful helmet covering their faces and gloving their hands.

The defective product is in his assigned room, curled up in the corner. It is a small room, so it is basically all corners.

"Up you get," Sal orders, snapping out the stun baton. "Defective product Evan Buckley."

Evan Buckley unfurls from his protective roll and struggles to his feet. His eyes are bloodshot and the skin around them puffy and pink, the tear stains on his face evident in his pallor. He is tall, as tall as Tommy, and his long legs almost buckle as he straightens.

"I'm sorry," Evan croaks. "I tried. I don't know why I didn't work."

Tommy has to stop himself from reaching out to take the clone's hand to comfort him. "Come along. We need to take you back."

"Will it hurt?" Evan asks quietly. He sounds so much like a child.

In terms of the actual number of years, Evan Buckley is a child. Less than two years of existence. Everything he knows was planted into his head with a chip. It will be several more years before he is considered a legal human being.

But he knows enough to be afraid.

Tommy clears his throat. "No," he lies.

Sal prods the clone. "Come on, don't make me use this thing. This thing will hurt you."

Evan Buckley hugs himself and comes over to them to be cuffed to Tommy. He is so withdrawn and docile that Tommy aches to assure him and tell him that he'll be okay.

"Help me pass a message?" Evan's eyes are very blue. "To my parents."

They're not your parents, Tommy wants to say. They're heartless bastards who placed an order for you and are returning you like you're a toy. Like you don't feel.

"What do you want to tell them?" is what comes out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save Daniel. I really tried."

Sal hurries them along to the waiting van. The clone tenses as he is dragged forward, but Sal pushes him into the van, locks the door, and gets into the passenger seat.

"Take us home, Jeeves," Sal tells Howie. "Got a clone to re-home."

Tommy unshackles Evan from himself, and the clone stares at him in astonishment. The astonishment gives way to... shyness? when Tommy removes the helmet and gloves.

"Hey," says Tommy, finally reaching out to take Evan's hand and squeezing. The clone squeezes back, his hand warm and his grip strong. "Don't be scared. We're not taking you to the Manufacturer. You're safe with us, I promise. You're leaving the city with us."

"Leaving? How?"

4. Abby comes by the firehouse after Chimney’s accident, and brings Tommy. Apparently Tommy used to work there!? And knows all of them!? The others apologize for not realizing they were talking to her. Tommy’s arm is wrapped around Abby’s waist the entire time, and Buck can’t stop staring at it, how Tommy’s pinky finger is invisible where it’s tucked into her waist band, how Abby laughs against his shoulder when they start telling stories about the old days, the way Tommy whispers in her ear, her hair hiding his face. Hen sends him what feels like a million warning looks. All Buck can think about is how Abby’s hair felt against his skin, the way she’d laughed with him, when her face had been tucked against his shoulder in a very different way. Abby sends him the address of a different hotel practically before she’s left the firehouse, tells him to stay the night this time. Buck drops her off the next morning again, and even though Abby’s apartment doesn’t face the road, he feels like he can feel Tommy watching him.

5. Buck realizes, when he’s helping Tommy move the no-longer needed hospital bed out of the apartment, that this is the first time he’s actually been in Abby’s apartment. He’d seen it, briefly, the day Patricia went missing, but he hadn’t been inside. Tommy’s taking the bed somewhere in his truck. Abby kisses Buck in her apartment, takes him to bed in the bed she shares with Tommy. At one point Buck jerks towards the door, convinced he’d heard it open, but no one’s there. They shower together, Abby jokingly mourning the hotel showers because Buck is almost too big for this one, and tells him that she’s filing for divorce. Tommy’s walking in as Buck’s leaving. Buck’s ears feel like they’re on fire. He hopes Tommy doesn’t notice nothing had been done while he was gone.

6. Abby and Tommy get divorced. Buck basically moves in. A month later, Abby’s gone.

7. Buck runs into Tommy on a scene. They’re clearing the same floor of an apartment building. It’s empty, thankfully, and they’re half running down the stairs together when Tommy goes “Hear you’re living in my old apartment.” and Buck nearly trips and falls, would have if Tommy’s strong hand hadn’t shot out to catch him and haul him upright. Buck has a flash of a memory, Tommy’s arm around Abby’s waist, and the next thing he knows he’s outside with no memory of how he got there. Hen checks them both over, talking quietly to Tommy and shooting daggers at Buck. Things have been… tense… at the 118. Buck’s tired of the disappointed look Bobby keeps giving him, and Chim and Hen have become more insular than usual. Tommy laughs, an unexpected sound. Buck can’t help leaning closer to hear what he’s saying. He catches “I’m gay, Hen.”

8. Tommy. Is. Always. Around. Well, not on shift, because he has his own station, but every 118 hangout now includes Tommy. The bonus is that everyone is treating him normally again. The downside is literally everything else. Tommy’s also treating him nicely?? What?? The fuck?? Buck drinks a lot at the hangouts. One night he drinks too much, and he’s practically stumbling over his own feet. Tommy offers to take him home, joking that at least he knows where Buck lives. Buck’s pressing his forehead against the window of Tommy’s truck, trying not to embarrass himself any more than he already has. “Why are you nice to me?” he asks. “I slept with your wife.” “At least one of us did,” Tommy mutters, probably not meaning for Buck to hear him. “Listen, kid. Our marriage was long over, but Patricia got sick and I wasn’t going to leave her on her own for that.” “It’s not like it was better that you stayed,” Buck says, then drifts off until Tommy stops in front of the apartment building, in one of the guest parking spots. Buck protests that Tommy doesn’t need to walk him inside, but Tommy does, making sure Buck drinks a glass of water and takes some advil before he leaves.

9. Buck does it again. Because he wants to see what Tommy will do. And Tommy takes him home again. He even tucks him in this time. It turns into kind of a game. Buck wants to see how far Tommy will go, when he’ll become too much for Tommy. Tommy’s buying him drinks at the bar, spotting him for tips, sharing his nachos, driving him home.

10. Buck pretends to get drunk. He has one beer that he nurses, then switches to what he says is a mixed drink, but it’s just pop. Tommy drives him home again, and Buck pouts and asks Tommy to walk him inside. Tommy does, a little reluctantly. When he closes the door behind them, Buck pushes him up against the door. “What are you doing?” Tommy looks a little panicked. Buck looks at him for a minute. “I think you and Abby like me for the same reasons.” And he kisses him. Tommy tries to push him away, says Buck has been drinking, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Buck laughs and tells him he only had one beer. He pushes Tommy towards the bedroom, and Tommy goes easily. Afterwards, they lie together under Abby’s sheets, skin damp from sweat and come. “Weird that we both had sex with the same person in this bed,” Buck muses, running his hand through Tommy’s chest hair. Tommy’s gone when he wakes up.

1. Evan Buckley loved his sister more than anything. But Maddie Buckley married Doug Kendall when he was too young to know better, and too young to do anything about it. The Kendalls were good people, they went to St. Paul's with the Buckleys, and everyone in town knew them. Doug was going to be a doctor—he was so handsome, had such a bright future ahead of him, wasn't Maddie such a lucky girl?

She seemed happy, which was the only thing Evan cared about, but still. He didn't like Doug. Buck watched them get in the car after the wedding, about to drive off for their honeymoon. And for a moment—just a moment—Doug grabbed her wrist. Maddie didn't pull away. She let him lead her. But his grip was so tight, and the expression on his face—again, just for a moment—was something that left Buck feeling… uneasy. Maddie looked back as they drove off, waving to her parents and her brother. There was something in her eyes that left him feeling haunted.

2. His parents wouldn't listen to him, but they never did. And when Maddie called, she said she was happy. Evan didn't believe her, but whenever he tried to talk to her about it she would change the subject. He didn't care about people said—Doug was a bad man, he was sure. He took his dad's truck one night and started to drive. He'd heard stories about the crossroads—about devils and deals and how no good ever befell anyone out there looking for trouble. But he didn't want riches or fame. He wanted his sister home safe.

"Why have you come boy?" a deep, sibillant voice asks. In the dark, Evan sees the shine of two golden eyes coming from the dip on the side of the road. He stumbles back as the biggest, toughest alligator he's ever seen walks up.

He gasps and falls flat on his ass scrambling to get away. "Wh-what are you?" he asks. "Y-you're not supposed to be talking. You're a… A…"

The gator makes a low, droning noise and Evan feels it strong as a subwoofer in the ground. "You know where you've come and you know why. Tell me. What exactly did you expect to find?"

Evan breathes hard, his hands trembling with his palms pressed to the packed dirt. "Can you… C-can you help my sister? Her name's Maddie, and her husband—"

"That depends." The gator looks at him and Evan feels the smallest he's ever felt in his life. He feels like he's nothing. He feels like prey. It's thick tail flicks once. "Have you come to make a deal?"

3. The gator doesn't take the first deal. Evan clutches the box he'd brought to his chest, where'd collected all the things most precious to him. But the gator hadn't wanted to paltry trinkets of a high schooler. The childish things of a boy, he'd said, slow and derisive. He'd turned and Evan had watched him, slinking down towards the dark water and then disappearing into it and gliding out into the swamp.

He tries something bigger the second time.

Maddie tried to hide the bruises when he visited her, but she was doing worse than he'd feared. He'd begged her to leave with him, to get out, to let him help her, but Doug had come back in and Maddie had swallowed all she'd been about to say and spit it back out into an awful, awful smile.

So Evan brings his motorcycle this time.

"I remember you," the gator says, and the moon above them hangs low and so, so bright in the sky. "Have you come to make a deal?"

Evan pleads. But it isn't enough.

"You ask for too much," the gator says. His eyes gleam and his teeth are yellow and sharp. "You have to pay an appropriate price." He walks slowly away again and Evan watches as he slips down and gets swallowed up by the water.

The third time he's desperate.

"Please," he says, tears streaking his face. "She… she tried to get away but he's got her, and if I don't—"

"Quiet," the gator snaps. Evan sniffles but presses his lips together, his body coiled hot and tight as a spring. "I will ask you again. What are you willing to pay?"

"I…" He wipes his nose on his sleeve. He didn't bring anything this time. "Anything," he says finally. "I'll pay anything."

The alligator, huge and ancient and terrible, looks at him and smiles.

4. Maddie's safe. Bloodied and aching, maybe, her shithead husband dead, but she's in his arms. She's safe.

"Evan," she says, taking a deep breath, holding on to him tight. "I--"

"Hey, it's okay, Maddie," he says. "It's okay. I-I promise. You're gonna be okay. We'll... we'll get out of here, and you can forget about what happened, and about Doug, and... and about everything, okay? We'll start fresh."

She nods, and wipes her face, and tries to take a breath. Doug's blood is still on her hands. There's that haunted look still in her eyes, but worse now. Deep, and aching. He knew what he was willing to pay, but that demon never said anything about Maddie.

This, Evan thinks, is not what he was promised.

~

He's been there enough times now. He knows where to go. He's seen where the alligator slinks off to, where the water parts around him as he slides through the swamp. He waits until the sun comes up. Then he sneaks off into the alligator's den.

The massive creature--demon? Evan doesn't know what he is really--is even bigger so close up. Bigger than any alligator he's ever seen. He sleeps like he's made of some dark, immovable stone. Carefully Evan sneaks up to him--closer, and then closer, and then he pulls out a knife.

He leaves the swamp and swears he'll never step foot in the crossroads again. An eye for an eye, as they say. Or an eye for a soul--they had a deal after all.

(My eye, Evan hears. Every night for three days. My eye, my eye, my eye. Bring me back my eye.

He can't sleep. He hears it all the time. Maddie, he tells her. I think we have to leave.)

5. The Buckley siblings make it to LA. Evan becomes Buck, becomes a firefighter. And, at some point... he meets a man.

His name is Tommy, and before him Buck had no idea that he was into men at all. He's tall, and cool, and he has a cleft, and he smiles like he has a secret.

Sometimes, when they lay together at night, Tommy touches the scar on his chest--the mark of that deal he made for Maddie. "What's this?" he asks, pressing a kiss to the skin behind Buck's ear.

"I promise I made once," he says. "Or uh.. something I owe to someone."

Tommy's arm tightens around him. "Hmm. And do you think it's ever going to come due?"

Buck laughs. "One day," he says. "Somebody... did something for me. For my sister. But it hurt Maddie as much as it helped her, and uh..." He swallows and he feels Tommy's fingers dig in. "I did something wrong, too. So yeah. I do. I think one day it's going to come due."

They're together for six months. They're some of the best six months of Buck's life. But it's only at the end that he realizes how little he ever knew about Tommy.

"Are you breaking up with me?" he asks.

Tommy, normally so impassive, his face an easy-going mask, looks more devastated than Buck's ever seen him. "I... I guess so," he says.

"No," Buck says. "N-no, but... Why be apart when we can be together?"

"I can't," he says. "Evan... I'm sorry."

And then he's gone.

It takes longer than it should for Buck to realize the eye is gone too.

~

"S-so it was..." He sniffs angry, his hands balled into fists at his side. "It was nothing. It meant nothing."

Tommy taps his orbital bone. "Evan. I'm sorry. But you had something that didn't belong to you."

He turns red, his eyes burning and his chest collapsing in on itself with shame and heartache. "Well... Well fuck you, Tommy, because--"

"Ahh." He holds up a hand and Buck snaps his mouth shut, furious. Tommy takes one tentative step forward. "You have something else that belongs to me, too." Before Buck can speak, though, he continues. "But. I think I have something of yours, too. I remember the terms, of course. Pretty standard. Whatever you wished, whatever you wanted most, just for the price of your soul. But the terms are a little... unfair now."

"Why?" Buck asks.

"Well. The scales are a little more even now. You owe me your soul, but." He puts his hand flat against his chest. His body is big and strong and it's real, it must be real Buck thinks, but there's a grace in his movements that seems a little... off. He gives Buck a smile that he wants so, so badly to believe is real. (It must be real.) "I have something that belongs to you." He mouth twitches up, almost playful. "My heart."

Buck rears back. "Wh-what? I--"

"So I was thinking we could renegotiate." He reaches out a hand, and without thinking Buck takes it in his. "My heart," he says. "For yours."

~

They didn't seal the first deal with a kiss.

Buck looked miffed. “How come you know so much about him?”

Eddie snorted through his mustache, Buck was so easily threatened. He’d done the same to him when they’d first met, so mortally afraid of being replaced all the time he had to puff up his chest in faux-male-dominance any time a remotely cool guy came along. “Chill out, Buck. He’s not taking your spot, besides there’s never enough of us on the mountain anyways.”

“I don’t know, something’s shady about this Eddie, I mean w– why would you quit being a pilot for this? A free ski pass? I don’t think so.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “CALSTAR is shift work dumbass. Like firefighters. He does like seven days a month or something like that.”

Realization dawned on Buck’s face as he made a silent oh of understanding when behind him, Bobby called everyone to attention for the morning debrief. 

“Heyyy, Tommy’s here! Hey, Tommy!” Chim called, walking in coffee in hand, plopping himself down right next to Buck.

Buck looked at Chim wearing a betrayed look on his face, which the latter didn’t even seem to notice. “He was here when I started waaay back. Tommy’s the one who got me into tele actually.”

“Alright folks! It’s another bright and sunny day in California and we’ve got multiple events on the mountain today.” Bobby started. Next to him, Tommy stood, hands behind his back listening intently. “Alpine: there’s a slalom down Dance Floor, whole run is cut off from junction to junction for the racing team. Lakeview chairlift is open but the avvy risk is considerable today so we need to monitor the out-of-bounds and change the placard up at the boundary. Sherwood and Ward Peak are also open but once again, there is a risk today and there will be smartasses out there that we’ll need to rescue.” Everybody let out a chuckle, even Tommy, briefly flashing his pearly whites. “Alright, that’s it for Alpine. Tommy, wanna help me out for Palisades?”

Tommy stepped forward. “Thanks Bobby. Um, a lot of you know me already, I’ll be stepping in for Gerrard as Assisting Patrol Chief who I believe has gone on overdue retirement.” Somebody uttered a won’t be missed! which earned another chuckle from the crowd. “Here’s the rundown for Palisades: KT-22 and the Base2Base are still closed for repairs. The bowl up Exhibition is still open, though. There’s a competition up at Gold Coast Park, we’ll need a sled and at least 4 standbys over there for the whole day.”

As Tommy listed off the various needs for Palisades, Buck couldn’t help but stare, quietly stewing about this guy that everyone seemed to know but him. He was his new boss? Sure, he seemed better than the last guy, wasn’t too hard to beat, but still. Something rubbed Buck the wrong way, something in the set of his shoulders, or the cut of his teeth, or the cleft in his chin, Buck still couldn’t tell.

“–need park experience. Evan? I’m told you’re the one to talk to?” Tommy spoke, breaking Buck out of his bubble.

“Uhh, uh yeah park experience, what? What do you, uhh, n-need me for?” Buck stammered.

“I’m going up to oversee the competition in Gold Coast, I’d like a second patroller with park experience in case I have to leave with a patient.” Tommy said. He seemed… kind, soft-spoken. For a guy that huge, it felt sort of weirdly satisfying. 

“Uh yeah, um. Eddie and Albert have done some park too if-if you need more of, uh, us.” 

“Good idea, Evan. I’m posting you guys further down by the 45-footer.” Tommy said to Eddie and Albert. Buck looked at his best friend, slight panic in his eyes at being so close but so apart for their daily assignment, like a puppy with separation anxiety. Anxiety that had nothing to do with the fact that he was going to be riding his new boss’s side all day long. Of course not. Eddie just shrugged apologetically.

Oh well.

—

“Sorry about back there, singling you out like that. I hear you prefer ‘Buck’?” Tommy said, putting on his ski boots next to Buck.

“Oh uh, no. No, Evan is fine.” 

“Okay then, Evan.” Tommy said with a soft smile. “You snowboard or ski?” Tommy asked.

“I-I do both.” Buck answered. The air felt charged somewhat. Tommy was being perfectly cordial but Buck couldn’t shake the feeling there was a layer under this.

“Huh. I tried snowboarding a couple of times but I was never any good. Guess I’m strictly a skier.”

A silence.

“I prefer skiing, I-I mean, I’m better at– I started with skiing. I, uh, I used to race.” Buck tried to supply.

“Yeah? So did I, although I guess it must’ve looked a little different back then.” Tommy answered back, still smiling softly.

The easy banter calmed Buck down somewhat. Tommy was nice, why was he so worked up over him before? The pipeline from attack dog to puppy was real, and though Buck would never admit it, he was an absolute golden retriever when it came to other people: bark first, and then never leave their side. 

Which is how a day he at first dreaded became one of the nicest in a long while. While posted, Buck and Tommy chatted about racing, Buck’s stint doing freestyle, knee injuries and patrolling. All while commenting on the tricks the contestants were executing. When Tommy called out a cork 7 mute – “I’m no expert, I just watch RedBull TV a lot.” – Buck might’ve fallen a little bit in love.

At the end of the day, they all met up at the bar at the request of one Chim Han, who absolutely needed to know everything that was up with Tommy lately and coincidentally was also very thirsty. Hen also had about a million questions, which were halted when Denny came in, back from his day of training, shin pads and helmet still on. There was an urgent need for hot chocolate, it seemed.

“That’s your kid?” Tommy said, awestruck. “He was just a baby when I left.”

“Yup, that’s my little champ, giving his mamas a fright when he goes and hits all those gates.” Hen looked so fond.

“That’s incredible, you must be so proud.” Tommy beamed.

“We are.” Hen said with a dopey grin. “But what about you? Are you still seeing that girl? The one who didn’t ski and we’ve never met?”

“Uh, no, uhh. I’ve moved on. Not seeing anyone currently.” Tommy said, a small grin on his face. Buck could’ve sworn Tommy looked at him when he said it, a fraction of a second before taking a gulp of his beer. And it seemed like Hen caught it too, but if she did, she said nothing of it.

-x-

“Uh, um. I said ‘that’s kind’. Kind of you to say.”

Thankfully, the kid in his chair switches subjects. He starts raving about the new Witcher 4 about to come out upon noticing Tommy’s Ciri figurine on his many adorned shelves. Tommy smiles, banters easily with the guy while shading a particularly sensitive area. The guy winces, and then laughs, says something about being tougher usually. Tommy promises there’s not much left in that spot.

Then in walks Evan– Buck. As ever, he greets everybody with huge smiles and waves. He even sends greetings his way. Tommy nods in return, cursory, acknowledging. He could swear he sees Buck’s smile falter a bit at that. 

Buck goes to the lobby and his client is already there. It’s the usual ticket too; young, attractive, female. Tommy notices the back-and-forth, thinly veiled flirting between the two. He sees out of the corner of his eye how Buck’s fingers brush just under her elbow, how she looks up at him ready to eat him alive. He scoffs discreetly to himself. Unprofessional. 

It’s not that Buck has a bad work ethic, nor is he predatory in any way. But he should know better than to get pulled in by these girls, jeez. It’s not the first time Tommy sees this in a shop either. It’s quite a rampant problem actually, especially with young, talented and attractive tattoo artists. Sometimes they get cocky at all the tail it gets them, and they start hitting on clients. 

Thing is, this is the kind of shit that can get real ugly, real fast. Buck should know better.

She wants a rib tattoo, of fucking course. 

“Hey man, you ok?”

Tommy snaps back to reality. The kid in his chair is looking at him funny. Tommy wonders if he’s been pushing the needle too hard or something but it’s none of that. The guy must have caught Tommy’s deer-in-headlights look and reassures him he’s not in pain or anything. 

“What did that guy do to you? You’ve been a black cloud ever since he walked in.”

Damn. That kid is nosy. That or he just lacks a sense of tact. But it’s fine really, besides, why should he let it get to him?

Tommy scoffs and laughs it off. Assures the guy that it’s nothing, just got distracted. But out of the corner of his eye, he sees Buck put the stencil on her ribs, his thumb a hair’s breadth from running along the curve of her breast. They’re giggly and pink the both of them, Buck’s huge hands running over her ribs and sides more than necessary. She bedroom-eyes him so hard Tommy can feel it and it makes him want to gag. Fucking unprofessional.

–

“Hey, uhh, why do you hate me?”

Tommy holds the smoke inside his lungs at that, trying not to choke. Both of his eyebrows knot in confusion in the middle. Buck’s energy is a weird mixture of douchebaggy asshole and giant puppy, which disturbs Tommy, and his big, bright smile is the tight kind.

“I don’t hate you.” Tommy says on an exhale, somewhat coldly.

Buck is looking straight at him, big eyes blue and sort of pleading behind the overinflated tough-guy routine Buck tries to have going on. Tommy forgets they’re at the same height sometimes, something about that makes his guts churn a little.

“Are you kidding? I can feel the daggers from a mile away. What is it? What did I do?”

Tommy fights the urge to roll his eyes, but Buck catches it.

The energy changes. Soon, Buck’s smile falls and turns into a scowl, barely hiding the hurt behind it. “Oh what, are you too good for me or something? Is this an ego thing? What’s your problem with me, man?”

“I don’t hate you. Matter of fact, I don’t feel any particular way about you.” Tommy says placidly to the ground.

“Okay so it is an ego thing. I haven’t done anything to you, why the fuck do you come at me for?”

Oh he wants to do this macho bullshit right now?

The baring of teeth, the passive-aggressiveness, it bleeds into Tommy like he hasn’t spent the last decade figuring out how to be less angry. He breathes through his nose. “I just think it’s a little unprofessional to sleep with two thirds of your clientele.”

“Who I sleep with is my business.” Buck says defensively.

“Not when you make a habit of sleeping with clients. People talk, it looks bad for all of us. But hey, maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s not like I’ve been in this business for the past thirteen years.” Oh Tommy is looking at him now.

“I-I, I didn’t–”

“Didn’t what? Realise? Mean to?” Tommy feels it bubbling now, the rage. He drags from his nearly finished cigarette and exhales harshly. His eyes are tight and his jaw is clenched so hard he can feel his teeth grinding with the force of it. 

“Bobby doesn’t see it because he’s too damn in love to notice anything else happening around here, and Han unfortunately likes you too much to say anything. Eddie arrived here with you like a conjoined twin and I don’t think he sees anything wrong with what you’re doing which is a problem in and of itself. Hen’s too busy with her life to take on that project. So yeah, Buck, I’m the one that has to tell you that you’re fucking up the reputation of this shop that I’ve helped put on the map for the past ten years and that three months into your apprenticeship you’re about to blow it all up for yourself and me because I can tell you the second Bobby notices what you’ve been doing, your ass is out of here faster than you can say ‘I didn’t mean to’.”

It’s only once it’s all out that he sees it, the threatening tears brimming at the edges of Buck’s eyes. The tight jaw, defeated posture. Shit. He may have been a little harsh.

“Listen, kid… I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It’s just… I care about this place, and it feels like you don’t. So, you can either continue treating the shop like your personal tinder or– or prove me wrong.”

Tommy took one last drag before butting his cigarette in the ash bucket, leaving Buck just standing there.

NP tags <3 @geddyqueer (of course) @fanaticallyfleeky @nobigsecrets @blahblahwoofwoof @hippolotamus @bidisasterevankinard @tizniz @monstertrucksactually @hmg621

4. Huh. Evan’s not really sure what to do with that. Tommy immediately offers that Evan can court whoever he wants once they’re married, he doesn’t mind. Their marriage is really more of an alliance, anyway. It’s not a marriage of love. Evan asks what Tommy would do. Tommy shrugs. He can always have the same arrangement if he wants.

“But is that something you would want?” Evan presses.

Tommy shrugs again. “Probably not.” Tommy says. “I always thought when I got married that would be it for me.”

5. Evan really doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t want to be a dick to his future husband, but he also doesn’t want to never have sex again. But, he’s going to do this for Maddie. She deserves to be happy. Maybe Tommy will change his mind, and Evan won’t feel bad about pursuing women outside of his marriage because Tommy will do the same.

6. The Buckleys travel to Tommy’s kingdom for the wedding, since Evan will be living there afterwards. Maddie brings Lord Han, and they meet Lady Gina, Sal’s love, at the pre-wedding feast. Evan feels oddly nervous the night before the wedding. It’s not even a real wedding, not really. He hadn’t felt this nervous before his wedding to Abby, and he’d been in love with her. Well, in fairness, she’d left two weeks before the wedding. Maybe he would hav been this nervous the night before. If they’d gotten there.

7. Evan can admit that Tommy looks handsome, waiting at the front of the church for him. He feels weird having Margaret walking him down the aisle, but it had been decided since he was the prince coming in, he’d be the one to walk down the aisle. Their wedding portrait will look lovely though, especially if the painter can capture Tommy’s eyes properly. He’s almost tempted to look around for the artist, but he doesn’t want to give anyone the impression that he’s looking for an escape in any way.

8. They repeat the vows from the priest, and then they get to the kiss. Evan had forgotten about the kiss. Idiot. Tommy seems calm, and he takes Evan by the chin to kiss him, tilting his head slightly so their lips slot together perfect. It’s probably the most chaste kiss Evan’s ever seen at a wedding, not that he can actually see it. But. You know. It probably looks great to the guests. It feels pretty great, too.

9. The families and the courtiers adjourn to the great hall for the feast and the ball. He and Tommy had talked about that, at least. Tommy leads for the first half, Evan the second. They both dance with their mothers after that, and Maddie dances with each of them as well. By that time, the dance floor is full, and no one is shocked to see the grooms dancing with other people — it’s a party, after all. They drink and they dance until the sun is a distance memory, the stars taking it’s place above them. They eventually make it back to Tommy’s rooms — now Tommy and Evan’s rooms — though many of their guests are still dancing.

10. Tommy shows Evan the room they’ve converted to a second bedroom for him. Apparently he snores. No one will think it’s strange. Evan changes and climbs into the bed, blowing out the candle. He lays there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. It’s his wedding night and he’s alone. He can hear the sounds of the great hall even through the many floors and corridors between them. There’s noise outside the windows as people make their way home, laughter and hushed voices in equal measure. He picks up a quiet sound that he thinks must be Tommy’s snoring. It's not very loud. The second bedroom is going to seem excessive. Evan shivers under the bedcovers, the warm night air seeming not to penetrate his room. He tries to sleep.

11. Evan can’t sleep. He slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to Tommy’s door. It’s open a crack, and he can just see Tommy’s form lying in the bed, chest slowly rising and following. Tommy’s only on one half of the bed, and Evan doesn’t hesitate to lift the other side of the bedclothes and slide in next to him. Tommy doesn’t stir at all. The gentle sound of Tommy’s snoring accompanies him as he falls asleep.

12. Evan does not wake up first. He finds Tommy staring at him, expression adorably confused. “Do you sleep walk?” Tommy asks.

“No?”

“Then— why are you in my room?”

“Do you not want me in your room?”

“Evan, I really don’t know what to do with that.”

Evan goes back to his room to get ready for the day.

13. It’s not the last time he sneaks into Tommy’s room. He does get better at waking up before Tommy though. Tommy only catches him about half the time now. “What are you doing?” Tommy asks one morning. He sounds exhausted.

“I— nothing,” Evan protests. “We’re husbands, we can sleep in the same room. We should sleep in the same room.”

“We’re husbands in name only,” Tommy says, leaving no room for argument.

Evan feels like arguing anyways. “We both agreed to this! We did this for Sal and Maddie. We are husbands.”

“And what does that mean to you, Evan?” Tommy asks. He’s suddenly looming over Evan, and he has to look up to see him. “Because to me, it would mean someone I love. Someone I’m romantic with. Someone who, when I share a bed with him, it’s not just to sleep.” He’s almost sneering. “You can’t even keep your eyes away from any new lady that enters the court.”

Evan wants to protest, but he knows it’s true. He just — is it really so bad to appreciate the human form? And of course Tommy only notices him noticing the ladies, not the lords as well.

“Fine,” Evan snaps, stalking off to his room. He doesn’t leave for the rest of the day. He doesn't go to Tommy’s for several nights.

14. He cracks a few nights later when a thunderstorm rages outside the castle. Tommy’s awake when he enters the room. Evan doesn’t care. He marches to the bed and gets in on what he considers his side now. Tommy sighs and rolls away from him. Evan jumps as lightning illuminates the room through the crack in the curtains and jumps a second time as another crash of thunder sounds in the distance. “Are you—”

“Shut up,” Evan snaps. “I’m not afraid.”

“I was going to ask if you were okay,” Tommy said.

“Once the storm is over, I will be.” The next thing Evan knows, Tommy’s wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close.

Evan tries to fight his way out, but Tommy holds him close and tight. “You’re safe here.”

Evan wants to be pissed, but it’s exactly what he needs right then. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. When he wakes up, Tommy’s nowhere to be found.

15. Evan mopes around the castle all day. He doesn’t want to go back to their shared rooms. Whatever changed last night was clearly not permanent. He doesn’t see any of the royal family members until dinner. Sal informs him that Tommy went to some of the outlying villages to check on them, and seems surprised that Evan didn’t know. Great. One more person fleeing him.

16. Tommy’s picked the worst possible time to go missing. The thunderstorms come back the next day, and they don’t want to leave. Evan haunts the hallways at night, unable to sleep. On the third night, he finds himself in the kitchen. It’s warm, alive. The head chef, Bobby, is baking bread. He teachers Evan how to do it. He tells Evan when he’s doing it wrong — Evan, who is a Crown Prince and a Consort and probably half a dozen other titles by now. It’s thrilling. It’s one of the few places Evan feels safe during the storms. Bobby lets him keep the first loaf that turns out properly. It’s just before daybreak, and Evan takes it back up to his room, along with some butter and jam. He cuts a thick slab of it, smears it with both, and eats it as the sun finally breaks through the clouds.

17. It doesn’t last, and Evan’s back in the kitchen with Bobby again that night. He learns how to peel and chop different vegetables, Bobby lets him watch as he bleeds and plucks a chicken. Evan’s not getting much sleep, but he’s having fun. Bobby wakes him up with a warm drink if he falls asleep at the table.

18. One morning, Evan wakes up in his bed. Tommy’s bed. What’s the difference, really? Only, Evan does not remember coming back upstairs, and it’s still mostly dark out. He’d usually still be in the kitchen at this time. The door opens and Tommy walks in. He stops when he sees Evan’s awake. “I got back and Sal told me you were in the kitchen. You’d fallen asleep, so I brought you up here.”

Evan doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t say anything when Tommy climbs into the bed, and he doesn’t say anything when Tommy wraps his arms around him when there’s another flash of lightning.

19. Tommy’s eating Evan’s bread in the sitting room when Evan wakes up.

“You left,” Evan says. “You’re practically the only person here that I know, and you left.”

“I had to check—”

“No, you didn’t!” Evan explodes. “If you did, you would have told me beforehand. You would have taken me with you, so I could meet our future subjects. You’re a coward, and you left me.” He slams the door behind him as he storms into his room.

The weather has a funny sense of humour. The sun won't stop shining now that Tommy’s back. Evan refuses to leave his room. He only eats when Bobby brings food up, because Bobby is the only one that Evan will open the door for.

20. “Evan? It’s Maddie.” Evan swings the door open, shocked to find his sister on the other side.

“Tommy sent for us. Howard's here too.”

Evan pulls her inside and closes the door again. “Maddie, he hates me,” he says miserably. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I thought you two had an arrangement,” Maddie said carefully.

“I haven’t—” Evan coughs. “That doens’t matter. I want him to like me.”

“He does like you,” Maddie said.

“No, he doesn’t,” Evan said mournfully. “We have separate bedrooms.”

“Do you… want to have the same bedroom?” Maddie asks.

“I— yeah,” Evan’s shoulders slump.

“Have you told him that?”

“No.”

“Well, I think that’s probably where you should start.”

Maddie and Evan talk for the rest of the afternoon. Evan finally leaves his room for dinner, a small gathering, just him, Maddie, Howard and Tommy in their sitting room.

21. When Maddie and Howard leave after dinner, Tommy stops him before he can go back into his room. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I left you.”

“I can’t do that again,” Evan says, “I can’t be an afterthought to you.”

“I didn’t realize you wanted to be a first thought.”

“Well, I didn’t either, until recently.”

“Would you like to-to share a room tonight?” Tommy asks, stumbling over his words a little bit. It’s incredibly endearing to Evan.

“I would, yes.”

22. That night, they share their second kiss. And their third, and fourth, and fifth, and enough kisses that Evan loses count.

23. He’s still smiling at breakfast the next morning, and Maddie announces that she and Lord Han will be leaving after lunch, but thank you so much to the King and Queen for hosting them while they were here.

By the time they pulled up to the scene, smoke was already curling into the sky in thick, angry black plumes. People were stumbling out of the building in varying degrees of disarray—coughing, crying, shouting for help, screaming about others still inside.

Sal took a deep breath, adjusted his helmet, and did what he did best. He slipped into command like muscle memory, like a second skin made just for him, everything funneling into one sharp point of focus the second he stepped out of the rig.

“Herrera, Jones! Set up triage. Get everyone checked out and for fuck’s sake, don’t let anyone run back inside.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Harris! Cruz—on ladder! Get those hoses up and spraying. Bennett, take a sweep of the exterior and watch for structural compromise. The smallest shift of rubble—I wanna know about it. Torres, you’re with me.” He barked the orders out, confident and steady as always, even as the world around him buzzed with chaos.

“Dispatch, this is Captain Deluca from the 122. Has the gas line been shut off? I ain’t stepping inside that building if I’m gonna be blasted off to kingdom come.”

“Captain,” the voice answered in an amused tone, and he let out a relieved breath at the fact that it wasn’t Maddie. “All main lines to the building have been shut off. You’re good to go.”

He checked the seal on his mask, grabbed his halligan, and pushed through the main entrance with Torres right behind him.

The alarms were still shrieking somewhere overhead, echoing through the empty hallways. No smoke on the first floor though. Good, thought Sal. The fire hadn’t spread far. That made their job far easier. They found the stairwell and moved fast, sweeping room by room, calling out. The first floor was cleared, quickly moving on to the next one.

“LAFD, call out,” he shouted into the last apartment on the second floor. He was about to step back when a quiet whimper cut through the noise.

Sal froze, then pushed deeper inside. There was only one closed door in the entire apartment; instinct drove him toward it.

“Anyone in here?” he called, keeping his voice steady and loud.

A small sob answered him.

“It’s okay,” he said, softer now. “I’m with the fire department. We’re getting everyone out of the building. Can you let me in?”

He gave it a moment. Nothing. He stepped back, ready to break the door—when it cracked open on its own, revealing a young boy, maybe eight, with a toddler clinging to his leg.

The boy immediately shuffled back into the bathroom, wrapping his arms. protectively around the girl.

Sal crouched down, removing his mask and doing his best to appear non-threatening—knowing how loud his voice, posture, presence was. The only children he hadn’t ever scared were Gina’s, and even then, sometimes he believed that had all been up to her influence. His best friend had always managed to soften his rough edges. “Hey, kid. Where are your parents?”

The boy only shook his head, eyes wide and scared.

“Okay,” Sal gruffed out, jaw tight. “That’s okay. You’re takin’ real good care of your sister. But the building’s not safe right now. We need to get you both out, alright? Think ya can come with me?” He extended a gloved hand. “Gotta make sure she’s safe.”

The little girl whimpered, digging her head deeper onto the kid’s leg. The boy squeezed her shoulder, then lifted her into his arms with practiced familiarity—like he’d been doing it his whole life. Keeping her close, comforting her.

Something in Sal’s chest twisted. He made a mental note to follow up on these kids once this whole damn thing was over.

The boy slipped his hand, small and trembling, into Sal’s and Sal led them quickly out of the unit. Outside, he flagged down Herrera and handed them off. He watched as she guided them toward the ambulance, the boy still clutching his sister with fierce protectiveness.

For a split second, Sal had the urge to follow. To make sure the kids were safe. And didn't that throw him off.

That wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t like—

Not now. He couldn’t afford to think about them right now.

He turned away, shook his head and steadied his breath before heading right back into the building.

They were almost done with the third floor when a sharp metallic ping echoed overhead.

It made the hair on the back of Sal’s neck stand up. He angled his head back, scanning the ceiling for cracks. There were none. But unease crawled under his skin anyway, alarm bells ringing loudly in his head.

Sal paused and lifted his radio.

“Bennett, how’s the building holding up?” he asked.

Silence.

“Harris, Cruz—status?”

The radio crackled, hissed, then spat out a garbled mess of broken static and warped syllables. Nothing he could make out. Complete and utter gibberish.

“Son of a—” He smacked the side of the radio once. Then again, harder. “Repeat that. You’re unreadable, over.”

Still only distorted noise.

Torres tried his own radio. Same result.

“Shit,” Sal muttered. “What the fuck…” His mind flitted through every scenario where a radio malfunction like this got you killed, and that was all he needed to make the right call.

“Torres, we’re retreating. Back outside, now.”

He raised his voice and spoke into the radio anyway—in case dispatch could still hear him.

“Captain Deluca and firefighter Torres pulling out. I repeat, radios are down. We’re pulling out!”

“Let’s move fast,” he told Torres, already scanning the ceiling again. “I don’t like the sounds I’m hearin’.”

“You got it, Cap.”

They turned toward the direction of the stairwell—just as the world bucked beneath them.

BOOM.

A second explosion went off. In the floor above, slightly closer to them.

The walls shuddered violently. Dust rained down in thick clumps, coating their gear like grimy snow. Sal and Torres stumbled to their knees with the strength of the blast and locked eyes, both thinking the same thing:

Oh, shit.

“Well, that ain’t good,” Sal grumbled, already shoving himself to his feet.

They sprinted down the hallway, boots hammering against the floor, echoes swallowed by the groan of stressed metal. Chunks of ceiling crashed around them, debris piling up fast.

Behind him, Torres yelped as he tripped on a piece of plaster.

“Move!” Sal barked on instinct. He reached back, caught a fistful of Torres’ turnout coat, and yanked him upright, shoving him ahead of him; saving him from the slab of concrete that smashed into the spot where he’d fallen.

But the rescue cost Sal his momentum.

The ceiling above them let out a final, long and agonized screech—metal twisting, surrendering.

Then—

A massive weight slammed into Sal. Heavy and unforgiving.

And everything went black.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

He came to with a choking gasp, the rusty taste of blood coating his mouth and pain blooming like wildfire across his ribs. His head pounded—like a herd of elephants had trampled straight through his skull. Something heavy was laying on him—no, pinning him down—so firmly that breathing took effort. His helmet had cracked; a jagged edge of plastic pressed awkwardly into his cheek.

“Torres—?” His voice came out a shredded croak. He swallowed, tried again. “Torres!”

No answer.

“C’mon…you’re picking now to be quiet. You never shut up,” he muttered, desperation creeping in around the edges.

He tried to move. He shouldn’t have.

Agony detonated through his side, white-hot and merciless. A ragged scream tore out of him before he could clamp it down, echoing harshly off the half-collapsed walls. Black spots exploded across his vision; he squeezed his eyes shut until they faded enough for him to force them open again, blinking into a shaky sort of focus.

The space was barely recognizable. Walls tilted at wrong angles. Slabs of concrete and plaster leaned against each other like toppled dominoes. Overhead lights flickered, dangling by wires that sparked and spit like angry insects. Up and down refused to make sense. Concrete, plaster, wiring—everything was mashed together like a giant’s fist had punched through the building.

Something dark and lumpy lay a few feet from him in a spreading puddle of liquid.

Unmoving.

Sal stared at it for one solid, suspended second. His pulse hammered; his brain refused to process what his eyes were telling him. Wouldn't. Couldn’t.

He dragged his gaze away with a trembling inhale, choosing denial over what he already knew.

His radio sure as hell hadn’t fixed itself, but he tried it anyway. “Dispatch…122—anybody—this is Captain Deluca, I’m—ah—pinned down…Torres is…” He choked on the words, left them hanging.

Silence. Nothing but dead air.

His breathing started coming too fast. A hot haze crept through his skull, tightening his chest, fogging his thoughts.

Fuck…I’m going to die here.

Alone.

With his regrets.

Without telling them—

Without telling them how he felt.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head—pain ricocheting through him—trying to shove back the despair threatening to bowl him over like a tide. Stop that! He chastised himself. He couldn’t think like that.

What he needed to do was stay awake. He needed to stay present. If he slipped under, it was over. There were no guarantees he’d ever wake again.

Still, despite his resolve, the sweet embrace of a pain-free existence beckoned to him. Calling like a siren luring her sailors straight into the cold, dark of her arms. And he felt himself slipping, inch by inch.

A faint sound brushed through the ringing in his ear.

A voice?

Sal strained to make it out. Was that help? Someone calling out?

He grunted, listening harder.

At first, it was nothing more than a whisper. A shape of something familiar.

Sal…

His brows knitted. He turned his head slightly, wincing.

Hey…old man…no going to sleep just yet, okay?

He frowned deeper. The voice was warm. Teasing. Young.

He tried to orient himself toward it, but the pain dragged at him, muddling his senses. A confused sound escaped his throat.

“Ev…Ev’n…” he slurred, each syllable sparking a new bolt of pain through his skull. His eyes fluttered, heavy, wanting to shut.

Sal…va…tooore. Stay awake.

He grit his teeth weakly. “H’te when ya call me that, kid” he mumbled to the empty air. “Ya sound like m’ ma.”

A sudden spike of fear sliced clean through the fog. His eyes snapped open and he looked wildly around the destroyed hallway.

“Wait, Ev…where—?”

His breath hitched sharply with pain. He reached up with a trembling hand, ripped the cracked helmet off his head and flung it aside, desperate for a clearer view of his surroundings,

“Where are you?” he rasped.

His question hung in the ruins, unanswered.

A broken gasp tore loose from him as he shoved uselessly at the slab pinning him, panic overriding everything. The effort sent another wave of dizziness crashing over him, tilting the world sideways. His vision blurred, going black at the edges.

He fought it—god, he fought it—for the not-Evan who’d told him to stay awake. But his body was done with him.

His eyes slid shut.

And the darkness claimed him again.