hen: ohhhhh we have to talk about it, it's been long enough, we almost died in a helicopter, in a hurricane, we have to talk about her tommy stares at them, then at buck and eddie, as he melts into a giant lake of sweat. "i don't… know what you mean…" buck and eddie, rolling up to the el chisme buffet: oh gosh what is this about, someone should tell us everything right away chimney: it was like the second thing i ever learned about you!!! and you didn't even tell me!!!! i had to hear it from this lady who shows up while i'm man behind. she comes looking for tommy, he left his phone at my place and he's been calling it all day, is he around? tommy, to buck and eddie: i need one of you go to drive to harbor, find a chopper, turn it on, and let me walk into the blades. fly it here. now. it's not that hard. turn the key and pull up. buck: can i????????????? eddie and hen and tommy: NO chimney: and i'm like, ooooohhhhhh yes ma'am, i'll GLADLY pass this on to TOMMY KINARD, who should i say it's from????? and then her diamond ring sparkles right in my eye— hen, a memory suddenly dawning on her: uhhhh wait chim before the grand finale what if we get some more cheese fries, go up and order some and then come back and we'll do the big reveal tommy: of my corpse, because i'm killing myself. i'll get the cheese fries, you guys get a body bag chimney: everyone shut up!!!!!!!!!!!!! she says, i'm abby clark, tommy's fiancee. and then she disappeared into the mist and tommy refused to speak about it ever…….. until now tommy: there's no until now, there's— buck: ….abby? my ex-girlfriend, abby? hen: no………………. uh…………… another abby………… it's a big los angeles metro area out there, there's tons of 911 dispatchers named abby clark out there…........... tommy stares at buck, then asks: himbo?

2) hahahaha so funny!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tommy buries his face in his hands, EVERYONE goes up to order every appetizer on the menu, but buck stays behind so he can watch tommy have a nervous breakdown for several minutes. finally tommy sits up and stares at buck. "so." buck pulls out his phone and slides it across the table. the folder is just labeled ABBY (2018) and, yep. that's a whole relationship with his ex-fiancee happening on some other guy's phone. "shit, you bulked up," is all tommy can say. "anyway, yeah. that's… my ex. and your ex." "why'd you break it off?" buck asks. "i'm gay." "oh. did she know that?" "if she does, i didn't tell her. why'd she break up with you? i mean, assuming—" "uh, her mom died and she went to travel the world, then kinda ghosted me." "oh. wow." "yeah." then they sit in silence for a while, peeling the labels off their beer bottles, until everyone comes back with many hot foods. "… did things somehow get weirder while we were away?" chimney asks. "you were supposed to talk about this, figure it out!" eddie: you guys, this can't be the first time either of you- tommy: i'm gay and i broke up with her because i never loved her. um. thanks for the fries and the drinks. nice meeting you or catching up with you. i gotta go. bye he flees for his life, and buck watches him go. chimney and hen watch, too, then catch buck and eddie on The Life and Times of Tommy Kinard (as far as they know, which is clearly not at all)

3) tommy opens his door: it's eddie? "so before everyone blew up your spot over the whole………. got engaged to someone and never really loved them, which, well, i don't know, people just do things sometimes for good reasons or not-so-good reasons, or good reasons with good people at the wrong time, or good people you thought you were just starting to—" "are you eddie? sorry, i blacked out and died after i ran out, so. didn't quite catch your name." "yeah i'm eddie. you wanna hang out? chim said you're into muay thai and i just started taking classes at a gym near my place." "……….. yeah ok." because they're really manfully beating the shit out of each other, they manage to…………. share? their thoughts? honestly? also eddie's kid is cool and they all like watching sports, so. is this……….. a friend?

3b) this evan or buck guy, though. the one who like. actually- yeah. maybe. maybe he is. to be. avoided. like just until tommy gets a handle on the humiliation he's managed to bury for 5+ years, then maybe he can say more than hey what's up to the dewy-eyed himbo whose dick abby rebounded with before her mom died and she escaped from LA. it's fine. he's not avoiding the guy. he's just making sure to never be in the same room as him for more than six seconds. nothing weird about that. tommy's busy! he's got a busy life! places to be! hobbies to hobby!

4) unfortunately, eddie is only kind of tommy's new friend; he's evan's best friend. tommy figures that's how evan got his address and why he's standing in his driveway while tommy's tinkering in the garage. why did he leave the door open? this is what he gets for trying to embrace a "welcoming" aura in the neighborhood- some asshole shows up and expects to be welcomed. "hey, tommy. why are you being so fucking weird about having the same ex?" "hey, evan," tommy calls from under a car. "well, i'm being fucking weird about it because i'm gay and for about five minutes i thought maybe i wasn't that gay, like i could marry a woman and also be gay, it's not like i needed to act gay or do gay things, i could just—whatever, man. why are you here?" "because i want to be your friend and you don't like me? and you don't like me for reasons that have nothing to do with me? maybe i want to hang out with eddie and chris and you, because they think you're really cool. maybe it's stupid that you made up your mind to not like me over a woman who hasn't been in the same country as you for five years. do you save all the common sense for the helicopter?"

tommy sighs deeply and slides out from under the car. "that wasn't very nice of you, new friend." evan looks down at him, upside down and really annoyed. "wasn't very nice of you to avoid me." "… do you want a beer or something?" "i would. thank you. and then tell me about this car." "do you know anything about cars?" "guess you gotta find out."

5) eddie and tommy get along sooooooooo well. they're like, weirdly similar, buck thinks, like the gay side and straight side of the same bitchy coin. and it's sooooooo not fair that it's so EASY for eddie and tommy to get along and so not for him and tommy. no ok, like, buck and tommy DO get along. their conversation is so easy and buck loves leaning in close to listen to whatever tommy says, and the 118 invites tommy out to drag him back in with their tendrils, but tommy hangs out with eddie, too, and he starts inviting buck places, just the two of them. they do outdoorsy stuff that eddie has no interest in, tommy invites him out to movies because buck has never seen any but he wants to see them with tommy, they go to new restaurants all the time, sometimes they just hang out at the loft or at tommy's place (aggressively comparing tommy's porch to bulk's balcony). he and tommy don't have a list of things in common like he and eddie do, but they spend so much time together and talk and text all the time and buck just likes being near him and with him and prying him open like-

6) "hey hen, i took five quizzes about whether i'm bisexual and it says i am, but like, how can i know? like really know?" "good question. is there a 6'2" firefighter-pilot whose mouth can help you answer that?" "…………………………. what if he hates me, though. like we're friends now. what if he still hates me because of abby. …………. not that this is about tommy. it's about me. and not tommy. it could be about anyone." "talk to him. kiss him if it goes well. talk to him some more if it doesn't. try kissing him again. you two have been coming to our group hangouts and treating them like dates for more than a month now, so both of you might need to knock your heads together a few times to figure it out." "oh. okay. thanks hen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i'm bisexual you can tell everyone if you want!!!!!!!!!!! is there a special place to get one of those flag pins and bumper stickers or can i get them anywhere?" "please ask tommy. that's a good question for tommy." "ok now you're making fun of me >:( " "absolutely. have fun!!!!"

7) buck comes to tommy's house and they stand across the kitchen from each other, and buck tries to piece together everything: the abby thing, the friendship thing, the chemistry thing, the wanting-to-kiss-his-mouth-and-dig-his-fingers-into-his-hair-so-fucking-badly thing. and buck opens his mouth and……… nothing comes out. until finally:

"i think……… i have a crush on you? i think……… i really like you? and i can't remember the last time i…….. liked someone this much? i feel all bubbly and excited to see you, and i don't care what we do as long as we do it together. lately i think the only thing that could make it amazing, so much more amazing, is if we were kissing, too. oh my god, see what i mean, like, who says that when they're normal about someone, who calls it kissing, what i mean-" buck pauses. "yeah that's exactly what i mean. sorry." "what are you sorry for?" tommy asks, having addressed none of his concerns. "………. that it's me," buck says. "that i'm….. your friend, but…. but i was abby's himbo first. and you were abby's fiance first. and maybe we've been…. maybe we're friends now but maybe we'll always be abby's exes first. maybe we can't be anything else." "but you just said we were friends," tommy replies. "so clearly we can be something else." "tommy," buck whines. "can you- about the other stuff, could you just- just tell me whether it's possible. please." "i think… the first thing you knew about me was the worst thing about me, and you still stomped over and demanded to be my friend. so i think…… if you saw that- if you saw me- and you still stuck around, and you're- you're here and you want to, uh, stick even more-?" "i wanna stick around so bad," buck says, suddenly all the way across the kitchen, right in tommy's face, so close they can feel each other breathing. but buck holds back, stares at his lips, whispers, "tommy, please."

It takes a lot of effort not to moan. Because yeah, he does remember—Tommy had edged him for… god, who even knew how long, and then fucked him so good he saw stars. He'd been attentive and condescending and a little stern, and Buck knew he liked it when Tommy was a little mean, okay? But he hadn't known he'd go that crazy for Tommy so focused and domineering, too. He swallowed and then licked his lips, shifting on the couch cushion at just the memory of that night.

Tommy's expression slid into something smug.

"Y-yeah," Buck says. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. And he's not drooling, thank fuck, but it felt like that was a near miss. God he loves Tommy so much. "I remember that night."

"Well." Tommy puts his hand on Buck's knee then lets it slowly slide high up his leg. He squeezes his thigh. "Then you already have the perfect gift idea."

"Would you, uh… You would want something like that?"

"What, getting to lay back and get the most luxurious fuck of my life while my boyfriend and his huge cock do all the work?" Tommy leaned into and kissed him, a little wet, careless, his mouth a hot brand against Buck's. "Yeah," he murmurs, pulling back. He squeezes Buck's thigh again and then lifts his hand. "I think I'd like something like that just fine."

Okay, Buck thinks. He knows what he has to do. Tommy picks his phone back up and is back to scrolling. But there's something in the corner of his mouth, some little curl of playfulness he can't quite hide. His whole body, even, seems poised in… anticipation. And Tommy might be able to resist obvious bait, but Buck definitely isn't. He pounces on Tommy, pushing him to the couch as Tommy laughs against him. He has a plan for Tommy's birthday now, sure, but a little practice first certainly can't hurt.

~

[not sure if I want Buck going through his ideas first or not]

"Ready for your present?" Buck asks, pulling Tommy in close with fingers through his belt loops. Tommy presses in for a biting kiss, and Buck hums in pleasure against him.

"Can't wait, baby," Tommy says. "I've been looking forward to it."

Buck grins. "Yeah?" Tommy nods. "Good. Okay, then why don't you go ahead and go in the bedroom? I'll be right in."

Tommy steps back, his eyes in Buck's mouth.

"Oh! And, uh. You better be naked. Ready and waiting."

"Naked, huh?" Tommy asks, already unbuttoning his shirt. "Sounds like you've got big plans for me."

"I do," Buck says. He swallows, maybe a little bit of nerves but mostly excitement. He can't wait to do this for Tommy. "Uh… big, big plans."

"Well then." Tommy winks and pulls his shirt off. "I'll be waiting." And then he heads down the hallway towards the bedroom.

As soon as he's out of eyesight, Buck whips out his phone to look at his checklist. Everything's going exactly like he wanted it to—exactly like Tommy deserves. It's the next part that's important, though. The sex is going to be good, of course. Even if it's just making out sloppy through some mutual, lazy handjobs it's still good. But Buck wants to rock Tommy's world.

He's been pretty dominant with some women before. One girl he'd slept with had wanted a few gentle smacks on the ass while he had her on all fours. Another, that he'd had a string of several one night stands with, had loved it when he'd gotten growly and held her hips down while he'd gone down on her. It was easy to respond to what a partner wanted because Buck liked making people happy. Sure, when he was younger, some of the sex he had was just about getting off, but sometimes it was more about connection than anything else, and sharing that intimacy with someone, getting to give them exactly what they wanted, or help make a fantasy—however small—come true, had felt great, and been just as satisfying for Buck, too.

"...This is a butt dial. Please ignore." Tommy says quickly.

"I called you!" Buck says, laughter bubbling up. He can practically see Tommy's inflamed cheeks and shifty eyes.

"No, no, sorry. Total butt dial. My name isn't even Tommy I just found this phone. Goodbye strange man."

Buck bursts out laughing as the call ends, and immediately flips his phone down to both hands to shoot off a text.

Nothing to do but wait, he keeps mopping, finishing the kitchen and putting everything away in the closet. He sits on the couch to wait.

About 15 minutes have passed when his phone lights up with a call, not Tommy this time.

"--ow, ow OW! LUCY! Stop fuckin-get OFF ME!" Buck can here the sounds of a struggle on the other end of the call, cot springs creaking inbetween bitten off curses.

There's more scuffling sounds before Tommy's winded breathing fills the line.

"--Donato you are damaging government property right now."

"Shut the hell up, Kinard." Lucy's voice floats past, and Buck gears up to bulldoze the conversation.

"Tommy Kinard, listen up. You've got a week left of this deployment. When you come back, you're gonna take a shower, sleep for 18 hours, eat the lasagna I'm gonna make; and when all of that is over and we're sitting here on this couch, I'm gonna give you the ring I bought 6-months ago. I just picked it up today."

There's only silence on the line for a moment, and suddenly Buck is met with a wall of hoots and whistles. He realizes then that Lucy had him on speaker.

"Hell yeah!" Lucy cries, and Buck can only imagine how hard Tommy is trying to hold onto his tough guy demeanor in the middle of a wildfire barracks with his coworker sitting on him.

"...yeah, okay." Tommy says, quiet and close to the phone.

"What? What the fuck is happening?" Tommy is throwing his head around, looking for assistance when he spots Lopez snickering a few feet away.

"We are working! We're doing hard and dangerous work right now, Lopez! Get her the hell off of me!"

"Sorry dude." Lopez says casually, holding their phone steady.

Lucy gets her phone out and snatches her hand away from where Tommy is trying to lick it to scare her off.

"Stop it you freak," Lucy days, using her knuckle to dig into the back of his shoulder blade the way she used to in order to get her brothers to tap out faster.

"Jesus CHRIST, ow ow OW! Lucy! Stop fuckin--get OFF me!"

Lucy hears more laughter, and it looks like they've got an audience. Tommy squirms some more, nearly causing the cot to tip.

"Lucy you are damaging government property right now!" He yells, and Lucy just huffs in annoyance.

"Shut up, Kinard." She tells him, and before there's much more fighting, Buck speaks. Lucy put him on speaker phone, so pretty much all 45 firefighters in the barracks hear his big mushy declaration.

"Tommy Kinard, listen up. You've got a week left of this deployment. When you come back, you're gonna take a shower, sleep for 18 hours, eat the lasagna I'm gonna make; and when all of that is over and we're sitting here on this couch, I'm gonna give you the ring I bought 6-months ago. I just picked it up today."

There's ringing silence for a moment, and the fight bleeds out of Tommy so fast that Lucy nearly loses her footing.

Then, the whole barracks explode in noise. Tommy shoves his face into his CalFire issue pillow while the firefighters around them are hooting, hollering, and everything in between.

"Hell yeah!" Lucy says without thinking, grinning at the phone. She shoves it upwards right next to Tommy's head so he can respond. She doesn't hear what he says, but she and everyone else hear it when Buck clears his throat and says to the crowd:

"Alright, Firefighters. Show's over. You gonna get my man back to me?"

The room cheers again, and there's a sudden rush as Lucy is pulled from Tommy and Tommy himself is yanked up by several hands. He's subject to pats on the back and side hugs, and Lucy could see their IC Richards from where she had come into the barracks, probably to see what the fuss was about, grinning and looking like just a bit of the stress from this ongoing battle had sloughed off of her in the last few minutes.

Lucy manages to snap a picture with a red-faced Tommy and the room still looking excited after she realized that the call had hung up, wanting to show Buck what he was missing.

Lucy leaned back against a wall beyond the frey of the on-going celebration, pulling up Buck's contact again. As the message sent, she heard a voice float over:

“I have done this before,” Evan reminded him.

Tommy snuck him a glance. “And yet, you almost got us caught.”

Evan held up a finger. “Operative word being almost.”

Tommy shook his head at Evan, lips thin and tight. “Inches and seconds.”

“You should say millimeters and seconds,” Evan said. “It’s not imperial but it’s more accurate.”

“It’s longer.”

Evan rolled his eyes.

“Can you please look like you’re supposed to be here for two more minutes?” Tommy hissed.

Evan craned his head to look around and Tommy groaned. “What, the rich and famous don’t roll their eyes?”

“Not in public,” Tommy gritted his teeth.

“I’m starting to think you don’t like me, Mr. Kinard.”

“I’m very much regretting taking Howie’s place on this.” Tommy guided them past a server, ignoring Evan’s sad noise when he couldn’t grab an hors d'œuvre. Maybe a hundred feet to the doors and they’d be home free. Tommy could get out of this suit, relax, and go back to doing solo jobs.

They were steps away from the door when a voice rang out from behind them. “Gentleman, we need to speak to you.”

“Run,” Evan hissed, grabbing Tommy’s hand and sprinting towards the door.

They burst out of the doors together and ran down the stairs. Tommy could hear the voices and footsteps of their pursuers, and went to turn right.

“This way.” Evan jerked him to the left, pulling him into a slim alley between the museum and the building next to it, so tight the brick pulled at Tommy’s jacket and they had to move sideways, their shoulders too broad to fit across the gap.

“We’re going to get stuck,” Tommy hissed.

“Trust me.” Evan didn’t let him go, and about halfway down the alley opened up, cutting into the building next door.

“Okay, that was easier when I was younger,” Evan admitted. He stopped in front of a motorcycle and handed Tommy one of the helmets hanging from the handles. “What? Always have a backup plan.” He flashed Tommy a wide grin that had had the wives in the museum swooning over him.

As Tommy did the helmet up, Evan opened a saddlebag and pulled out two jackets, shoving his and Tommy’s suit jackets back inside.

“Good enough,” Evan determined, watching Tommy put on the leather jacket as he suited himself up. He sat on the motorcycle and patted the seat behind him. “Let’s go.”

Tommy sat behind him, somewhat reluctantly wrapping his arms around Evan’s waist.

“So, does this count as saving your life, and if so, what is a life debt good for?” Evan mused before he fired up the bike.

“Saved me from a night in jail at best,” Tommy told him.

“Yeah? Can I cash that in for a date?” Evan flashed him another grin before slamming his helmet shut and revving the bike, pulling out onto the empty side street and racing away from the people searching for them.

tag list: @capthawkeyepierce @swagmaster9k @setmeatopthepyre @thefateofdanieljackson @bandluvr97 @chemistry66 @letsdosciencetoit @geekwarrior107 @racerchix21 @fan-of-a-lot @bybobbysbeard @adhd-dean @styxhuntress @owlgirl495 @a-simple-space-bi @fuselsstuff @joyousmistake @queerasbuck @starryeyedjanai @betterthanfakemouthstatic @sherlocking-out-loud @thecarrott @geddyqueer @apollabarnes @applesintheearlyfall @buffaluff @bluroux @corporatebanana @spacediino @arabella-s-arts @stuckinthemiddle22 @changmin-lord-of-chaos @curlyboys @icestar663 @kinardnatural @meltedredweasels @wwefan18 @i-dont-even-know-anymore976 @theknightswhosayni @rcmclachlan @myriadofstuff @captain-dh @absdax @future-demiurge @14brisingr @scarletsky153 @icyfox17 @theotherbuckley

Buck opened said big fat mouth but Sal beat him to the punch. "I planned this little social visit all on my lonesome."

Chim was too tired to even begin to detangle the Raso-Deluca-Kinard-Buckley codependency web to figure out if Buck had gone crying to his union daddy about whatever had his panties in a bunch now. With Buck, it could be anything.

"If this is union business then get in line." He held out for an entire ten seconds before giving in and snatching up the cup. "I already got the deputy chief after my head about the late evaluations. You know how long it takes to write up an entire station's evals when half your shift is spent putting out literal fires?"

"I'm familiar," Sal said dryly.

Chim downed half the coffee, which was a mistake; his pulse rabbited. "What the hell is in this?"

"Four shots of espresso, a fuck ton of syrup, and I think she poured in a packet of instant coffee."

He stared in horror at the cup. "Why?"

"She fears neither god nor death." Sal stood and slid his phone into his shirt pocket. Chim would bet good money if those cell phone belt clips were still around, Sal would be a proud owner. He was such a dad. "Let's take this to your office."

His vagus nerve went wild and his pulse kicked up another notch that had nothing to do with the espresso. "You've already made yourself comfortable. We can do it here."

Sal made a point of looking around the open concept loft at where all of Chim's firefighters were doing a great job at pretending not to listen in on their conversation. He was particularly impressed by Eddie's intense pantomime of searching the fridge for the quart of milk two inches from his face.

"This is a conversation better suited to an office that has a door, Captain Han," Sal said.

Ravi, who was heading towards the coffee machine, turned on his heel and beelined straight for the stairs. Coward.

Chim forced a smile. "If you would follow me, Steward Deluca."

"I know the way, asshole," Sal said, and didn't even wait for Chim to take the lead.

"Now who's the asshole?" he muttered and hurried to catch up with Sal. He was surrounded by assholes with long legs. This was why Hen was his favorite.

They made it all the way to the office before Sal paused, hand on the doorknob. Like the bay doors, Bobby had liked to keep his office open. "It sends the wrong message if it's closed," Bobby had said once. "We're here to help. People need to know they're welcome."

Before Sal could get off a quip or, even worse, be understanding, Chim pushed past and inside. At some point between the lab and all of them returning to work, someone had packed up all of Bobby's personal effects and cleaned the place out. The pictures and the #2 Dad mug that May and Harry had gotten Bobby as a gag gift on Father's Day went to Athena. The little figurine of an old fire wagon was in the Buckley-Kinard household. He'd caught a glimpse of it when they went over for dinner, which was a whole ordeal as they had to pack up the kids and both Jee and Nash hated being in their car seats. He had been irritated when he saw it, not because he wanted the figurine—that would have been one more thing for the kids to break—but because it hadn't even been a choice. Of course it went to Buck, just like Bobby's recipe cards, written by various Nash generations, had gone to Buck. Just like Bobby's final orders had gone to Buck.

The only attempt Chim had made at personalizing the office was to put up the obligatory framed photos of the wife and kids. He hadn't seen the point of anything else given how little time he was in there since the LAFD was all in on going paperless, which meant his laptop's new home was on the kitchen table. The air was stale. A tin layer of dust covered everything. Sal sneezed.

"So," Chim said, absolutely not hesitating as he took a seat behind the desk and laced his fingers over his stomach, "why are you here, Sal?"

Sal sat across him, mimicking his posture with his own hands folded over his stomach. "I'm just curious about why Firefighter Buckley has not taken the full family leave he's entitled to as a new parent."

The effort it took not to roll his eyes hurt. "Christ, I can't believe he went whining to you about this. Actually, you know what? I can believe he went whining to you. Isn't this a conflict of interest?"

"Buckley is only married to my best friend," Sal said, deeply unimpressed. "It's not like he's my brother-in-law and I'm his direct supervisor. Now that would be a lawsuit waiting to happen."

Chim took a deep, calming breath. "Buck took a couple of weeks when Theo moved in. I can't force him to take every minute available to him." That was polite and professional and more of an explanation than Sal was owed, and yet something about Sal's face, the set of his mouth or the fact he apparently stole Tommy's bitchy eyebrows, goaded him into adding, "It's just a foster placement. It's not like he's got a new baby. Besides, Buck is the donor, not the dad."

Sal went very still and very quiet and very dangerous. "Then I guess you think Hen shouldn't have taken her family leave when she and Karen took in Mara."

Through the horrific churning of his stomach, Chim said, "That's different. Hen and Karen were adopting Mara. And Hen didn't take the full leave either. Hell, I only took a couple of weeks when my son was born. Buck isn't being singled out."

"Yeah, let's talk about PTO." Sal deliberately unlaced his fingers. If this were a nature program, this would be the point where Buck would explain to Jee and Nash what a threat display was. "I've been doing some digging. Unofficially, of course."

"Of course," Chim agreed, annoyed.

"The 118 has a lot of unused PTO sitting on the books, which I find concerning."

"Oh, do you?" The annoyance was reaching the flashover point. "Tell me more about how to do my job."

Sal's expression didn't change; he used to be easier to rile. "It's not a good sign when your people aren't using the time they're due and that they've earned. Now I don't know if it's because they're all workaholics, in which case you got yourself a culture problem, Captain Han, or because they don't think they're allowed to take it. And if they don't think they're allowed then that's where I come in."

The flashover ignited. "You know, Sal," Chim said with forced geniality, "it's a shame that you never made captain. I remember you keeping us going through all those shitty captains after Gerrard. You were good at it."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Sal said, clearly amused, which only made the Chim's anger burn hotter by sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

"But you are not a captain and you are definitely not the captain of the 118." He jabbed a finger into the desk. "You do not get to come into my house and lecture me about my job and tell me how to look after my people. And if Firefighter Buckley has an issue with the way I'm running this place then he can put on his big boy pants and come talk to me instead of running to the nearest dad shaped figure to fight his battles for him. We all miss Bobby but some of us have to be the actual grown up in the room!"

Now Sal's expression changed, but instead of the self-righteous fury he remembered Sal being so good at it, Sal just seemed sad. "Howie, do you even want to be captain?"

That shocked him out of his fury. "What kind of question is that?"

"An overdue one, I'm guessing." Sal looked around the office, taking in the blank walls and the few framed photos and, more irritatingly, the ill fitting way Chim sat behind the desk. "I was surprised when I heard Hen declined the captaincy. I had her marked down for climbing the ranks ever since that night she found the car we all missed. You remember that?"

He snorted. Did he remember the night he and Hen became partners? Like he could forget how Hen metaphorically kicked their asses into being brave enough to dump Gerrard.

"I faintly recall it," he said at his most snide.

That got Sal to smile. "That's when I knew that someday I'd be calling her chief." The smile dropped away. "But then I hear she turned Simpson down. She didn't want it anymore."

"Bobby was mentoring her. She stepped up as interim captain when he was away. She was the one making the hard decisions. That's how she got on Ortiz's shit list." He scrubbed a hand down his face. "She doesn't want it like this."

"Nobody wants it like this." Sal heaved an old man sigh. "Do you know why I became a union steward?"

"Well, Sal, if I had to guess, I'm going with the fact you got an anti-authority streak a mile wide and love to fight with the brass."

"Well, you're not wrong," Sal said, a flash of wry humor. "But I was here for Gerrard. I saw what he did to Tommy. It was worse for you and Hen, I know," Sal added before Chim could rightfully protest. "He ground us down and turned us into the worse version of ourselves."

"Us?"

"Me." Sal leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. "I hate who I was under Gerrard. I hate how I treated you. I hate that my own best friend didn't feel safe to come out to me for years. I hate that it took me so long to do the right thing. I won't let another firefighter go through what we did. I will not let the brass protect more Gerrards."

"Is this your superhero origin story?" Chim said, knowing he'd crossed the line from good natured shit talking to mean bastard, but he couldn't stop. "It doesn't have the same flair as Spider-Man's origin, but, hey, at least you get the power without the responsibility."

Sal leaned back and donned a wide smile. "I'm going to do you a favor, Howie, since you're an old friend and we were in the trenches together."

"Lucky me," he said dryly. "That favor better be getting Buck to cool it on the snickerdoodle front. If I have to so much as see another cookie I'm transferring him to Alaska. I don't care how much Theo likes him."

"I'll do you one better. I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Bobby back when Firefighter Diaz almost killed a guy." Sal's smile became that of a great white shark. "I shut down the 138. I made sure there was an investigation into the culture the captain fostered and the harassment he encouraged. Every single firefighter who participated in the systematic sexual harassment was fired and denied all benefits. I oversaw the transfer of those affected firefighters to good houses with good captains. I dug and documented and uncovered every terrible, horrific thing they did, and I burned it all down and put heads on pikes and I salted the fucking earth. There will never be another Gerrard. I will not allow it, not even if it's the 118 and not even if it's your head."

"You self-righteous asshole," Chim said quietly, so furious he couldn't take a full breath. "You think you scare me? I've been dealing with people like you my entire life. I survived Gerrard. So if you want my head, Deluca, you're gonna have to fight for it."

"Howie," Sal said, not gentle because the only people Sal were gentle with was his daughter and Tommy, but kind, "do you want to be captain?"

Chim threw up his hands because the only other option was throwing a punch. "What fucking difference does it make? Hen doesn't want it. Eddie and Buck aren't anywhere near being ready to take command."

"You're not the only senior firefighter here," Sal said.

"But I am the only who fucking cares."

That was, Chim realized too late to do any good, a horrifying thing to say about the 118. It was the same thing Gerrard said every shift, the little phrase that allowed him to turn people into things: Gerrard was the only who cared about the job.

"I didn't mean that," Chim said into the asphyxiating silence.

"How did you mean it?" Sal said with what certainly sounded like genuine curiosity.

He forced himself to take a breath and then another. He brought his shoulders down a notch. "If I didn't take the badge," he said slowly, carefully feeling his way through the sentence, "then we would be stuck with whoever Simpson assigned here. We wouldn't get another Gerrard. I know you won't let that happen." He wasn't even annoyed with the way Sal tipped his head in faux modesty. "But we had a lot of captains between Gerrard and Bobby. You remember what they were like, right? They weren't bad captains but they—”

"Didn't give a shit," Sal said. "I remember."

The exhaustion ate away the last of the anger. "I don't want to get some guy who doesn't care about this place or about family dinner or about us." God, he was so tired. "We're Bobby's legacy and that matters."

Sal nodded thoughtfully and said, "I gotta ask one more time. Howie, do you want to be captain?"

"You're killing me, Smalls," Chim groaned. "Why do you keep asking that? Are you actually gunning for my job?"

"I'm asking because what it sounds like to me is that you took this job because no one else would and you were afraid the station would get saddled with a--"

"Mook?" he suggested.

Sal flashed a smile. "Yeah, with another fucking mook." The smile faded. "But you didn’t want this job, not like how Hen did and how Buckley does. And I think you resent the hell out of everyone for not stepping up and forcing you to do it, and I think that’s eating away at you.”

"I don't," he protested. "I'm not saying I would have chosen this if it weren't for everything, but I don't resent them for it. I'm doing this for them and for Bobby. We're a family."

Sal looked at him like Chim was an unstable building and Sal was trying to figure out the safest way to evacuate everyone inside. And then, with devastating precision, he asked, "And when was the last time you had family dinner?"

"Last shift," he said automatically, and then: "Wait, we had that call and Buck didn't get a chance to cook when we got back. So the shift before that. Or on Sunday. One of those days."

“You don’t seem sure about that.”

Chim opened his mouth to tell Sal to stop harassing him in his own station, but Sal had the audacity to be right: he wasn’t sure the last time they all sat down to dinner together. Buck had taken over cooking duties, but dinner was served buffet style with everything laid out so the rest of them could come and eat when they wanted to. It wasn’t like they were all retreating to their separate corners—people tended to cluster around the tv, on the couch, at the table, or leaning against counters because they were all raised in a barn—but they weren’t eating together, not like they before. Chim closed his mouth.

“Yeah,” Sal said, almost sympathetic. “This is your house now and you’re not handling it well.”

“So,” Chim said cheerfully, “this is the part where I tell you to get the hell out of my house.”

“This is what I’ve observed in the time I’ve been here,” Sal said, terrifyingly serious. “You have accused Firefighter Buckley of going behind your back by bringing me in, stated that he is not entitled to his full family leave per California law because he is only fostering Theo and implied that Firefighter Buckley is a child. You admitted to setting the precedence for not using PTO that the people under your command are entitled to and are resentful that Firefighter Buckley any family leave at all. You then proceeded to make several unprofessional and disparaging remarks about a firefighter under your command to another member of the LAFD. Is this you handling it well, Captain Han?”

“Let me tell you what I’ve observed,” Chim shot back, forcing his hands to lay flat against the desk. “Everything you just said exclusively pertains to how I’m treating Buck, which isn’t helping your case that he doesn’t immediately go running to you when another kid is being mean to him on the playground. My actual four year old daughter doesn’t complain as much.”

“That is a hell of a thing to say about your brother-in-law,” Sal said, “and an actionable offense as his captain.”

“Jesus Christ.” He dragged his hands down his face. “I know he’s your brother-husband, but this is still Buck we’re talking about. I’ve known him longer than you. Hell, I’m the reason you two even met.”

“You thought he was being unfairly treated and brought in an union rep to help him,” Sal said, tone heavy with meaning.

“Worst mistake of my life. Now I’m stuck dealing with both of you until one of us dies.” That was, Chim once again realized too late, too mean and too honest. “Bad joke.”

“That wasn’t a joke,” Sal said.

He gritted his teeth, and said, “I admit that was out of line. My son wouldn’t go down last night. I’m operating on about an hour of sleep.”

“The thing is, Howie, I don’t fucking care.” And there was the Sal that he knew and barely tolerated. “And those people out there, your people, don’t care either. You’re the captain. You don’t get to be tired or cranky or a goddamn asshole just because you missed some sleep. You don’t get to take out your frustration and resentment on Buckley because he’s your brother-in-law and you think that makes him a safe target. As you so aptly put it, Captain Han, you have to be the grown up in the room but all I’m seeing is a child throwing a tantrum. And my actual child knows how to behave better.”

“Tell me how you really feel, Sal,” he said, too exhausted to work up more anger. A tension headache throbbed behind his right eye. All he wanted was five goddamn minutes of quiet where someone wasn’t crying or grieving or expecting him to fix the unfixable. All he wanted was to be left alone so he could remember how to be a person again. “I’m serious. Dig deep. Lay it on me.”

“No one wakes up and makes the decision to be a hateful asshole, not even Gerrard.” Sal sounded as tired as Chim felt. “We give ourself little permissions every day. Your kid kept you up last night so that gives you permission to disparage Buckley in front of his coworkers. You didn’t take your full family leave so no one else should either. You care more about this job than anyone else, which means you can treat them however you want.”

Chim winced. “I get it, okay? I’m being a real asshole.”

“You don’t actually get it,” Sal said, and Chim had never seen him look so sad, not when Tommy was in the hospital and not even when he got himself fired. “I told you I’m here as a courtesy since we’re old friends. What’s happening here, all these little permissions and excuses you give yourself, this is how you get a Vincent Gerrard.”

“And you won’t let that happen again,” Chim said through a mouth gone sick and sour with shame.

“I never liked Nash, but I liked what he did for his place and what he did for you. I don’t want to have to salt the 118’s earth, but I will if I have to.” Sal stood. He wasn’t the biggest guy Chim knew—that honor went to his brothers-in-law—but had a talent for for filling the room, and right now there was no space left for him. “You saved Tommy’s life, and I am forever grateful for that, but I won’t protect you if you keep going down this road. The next time I com here, it will be in an official capacity.”

“Good talk, Sal,” Chim said, unable to summon up even the thinnest sarcasm. “My favorite part was the explicit threat at the end.”

Sal flashed that shark smile. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ll know when I’m threatening you.” The smile softened into something approaching genuine affection. “If you going to do this, Howie, you gotta do it right. And you don’t have to do it at all if you don’t want to. You can step down.”

“That will be all, Firefighter Deluca,” Chim said.

“Good to see you, Captain Han.” Sal nodded at him and then finally got the hell out of Chim’s house.

Chim got a full four minutes of quiet before the bell went off and then another minute before Hen shouted, “We gotta go, Cap!”