#s7 e5

and Sam was like "Well 98% of my staff are loudly and famously queer, so we can't do that exactly, buuuut I think we can tweak it."

Bobby slides him an empty mug, mostly to test the waters. Buck catches it, folds it between his hands, and continues to stare at the countertop as if there's a divine secret hidden in its depths. Seems like the 118 is full of unaddressed issues today.

"Buck," Bobby ventures, still testing, and Buck's head snaps up.

"Oh, sorry, Cap, I- I didn't hear you."

"I didn't say anything," Bobby assures, mildly.

Buck swallows. "Oh."

Bobby lets the silence hang and thicken. It's a very effective tactic, waiting the kid out. But today, Buck says nothing. He runs his nails soundlessly against the mug, and he looks sicker and sicker with every passing second, like he's being torn up from the inside out.

An hour ago, Eddie had sat at this counter and put the word 'commitment-phobe' in Bobby's mouth. Now, Buck sits there, on the same stool, and he's trapping his thoughts inside his head. It concerns Bobby most when Buck falls silent. He can't do much to combat whatever hell the kid's made for himself if he doesn't even know what it is.

He has an idea, though. He has an idea in the same way that he'd left one person out of his list of things Eddie has no problem committing to; he has an idea in the same way that Buck's been dodging Eddie all day, and it wouldn't look like avoidance if the two men didn't spend their shifts hanging off each other, chatting about nothing, catching up on a week they'd already spent together.

It would change Buck's life to have someone commit to him like that. Maybe it's more accurate to say 'if he let himself accept that someone already has.'

But Eddie is too wrapped up in what's expected of him — lapsed Catholic, indeed — and Buck will never break the silence first. Bobby respects both of them enough to let things be. He's long since decided he'll only intervene if things get ugly — though he's starting to worry that time could be coming soon.

For now, he reaches out and squeezes Buck's shoulder, then neatly slips the mug from his hands. "I'll make you some coffee."

Buck's voice is quiet when he speaks, almost small. But the gratitude is genuine.