The Floater - Kiragirl17 - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: The Floater

Chapter Text

Chapter 1:

The Floater

Kelly Severide, with a smile on his face and squinting under the bright sun, pulls up at firehouse 51 in his mustang. He lingers in his car for a few seconds as he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the day. Being Chicago air, it is no way fresh, a forever charred aroma hanging in the air, but man, there's something special or refreshing in it. He lets the wind kiss his face for a firm minute before he musters the will to move. And man, it is battle, even if he loves his job. Without meaning to, the door to his mustang slams shut due to a particularly strong gust of wind when he goes to close it.

His eye twitches for a second before the frustration rolls right off him, as that, even if it is his number one rule regarding his car, isn't going to bring down his day. Why? Because he is going to have a good day. Why does today feel like a good day? No clue. He has no reason. He just woke up with a smile on his face and he's going to keep it as long as he could. He may have woken up alone for the past week, but yet, he's relaxed. It's odd, but he isn't going to second guess a good day, especially in his line of work.

"Hey, Casey," he greets, noticing his best friend stepping out of his beat-up truck.

"Morning." Casey waves. In one hand is his worn overnight bag, and in the other is a cup of steaming coffee.

Kelly smiles as he falls in line next to Casey in the driveway. "How was your weekend?" he asks, running his tongue over his bottom lip. The cheeky grin on his face is asking one thing specifically. Did his best friend get lucky? He bumps shoulders with Casey. "Have fun?"

Casey huffs. "Why do you always go there?"

"Why not?" Kelly shrugs. He ignores the dramatic eyeroll directed at him and looks toward the firehouse. Members from the first shift start to filter out one by one, each looking both exhausted and excited…besides one. The unfamiliar, oddball firefighter looks…lost? The familiar emotion hits Kelly like a closed first. Though, it's gone in an instant, and Kelly isn't sure he even saw that raw remotion before it's masked behind utter exhaustion. Unable to place a name to the face, Kelly isn't sure if this is normal for the guy. However, if the other members of the First Shift didn't have smiles on their faces, he would've given it a second thought.

"Floater," Casey replies as if he can read Kelly's mind.

Nodding a response, Kelly's eyes follow the man, tracking his path to his vehicle. "How is he a floater?" he asks, his eyes going wide. The man in question looks nothing like the 'normal' floaters that Kelly topically sees. Most floaters are either rookies unable to find a permanent home or firefighters who no one wants for some reason. Kelly doesn't like to think of anyone as unwanted, it leaving a bad taste in his mouth, but it's true. These firefighters are rough, and that's putting it lightly. Okay, this isn't for all floaters, but they tend to be slower, heavier, and/or less motivated. Kelly knows not all firefights are not built or created the same, but man, why be a firefighter if you aren't going to put in work? This floater is neither of those things, appearing to be in better shape than most of the guys in Kelly's own house. sh*t, he probably gives Kelly a run for his money.

Casey gives the guy a quick once over before shrugging. "Could be for a few reasons."

Kelly hums, thinking, as the floater, several feet from them, passes by Casey and him without a single word. Unable to stop himself, Kelly follows the physically fit man with his eyes. Like all floaters, the man takes his gear with him to every firehouse he fills in, and his turnover gear is hanging over his shoulder. Kelly's eyes, moving on their own, travels to the bottom of the turnover coat to the floater's last name: 'Buckley.' For some ungodly reason, Kelly stares—hard core stare-, almost walking into Casey who stares at him wildly.

"Severide," Casey calls, both shoving and directing Kelly away from walking into a wall.

"What?" Kelly utters as he nails Matt Casey with a playful glare.

"Stop staring. It's creepy."

Kelly rolls his eyes as he sneaks one more glance at Buckley, who has thrown his gear into the back and gotten in his Jeep with California plates. Wait? California plates. So, he is new new. "No one would find me creepy." Kelly shots him a cheesy smile.

Casey rolls his eyes once more. "I'm sure we can find someone." He replies as they step into the firehouse, though not getting too far in before something shiny catches his eyes. "Woa," he utters, spotting the spotless trucks. "Who got sent to the dog house?"

Chatting with Herrmann, Lieutenant O'Brien, a bag in his right hand, turns to them and speaks, "No one. I was just telling Herrmann here it was the floater."

"He pissed you off?"

O'Brien loudly snorts. "No. He's anything but." He throws his bag over his shoulder. "Buckley was the least annoying person of the night. He did this on his own."

"Oh, really?" Casey asks, a distrustful look in his eyes.

"Yes, really," The Lieutenant shots back. "Buckley, without one word, kept busy the entire night."

Kelly, surprised, takes a long look around the apparatus, noting how each truck shined. "He must've been out here for hours." He utters, as his mind drifts, and questions fill his head. Why would a floater worry about the state of a firehouse he's visiting? Does it even matter? He asks himself. Kelly pushes thoughts of the floater out of his mind and continue his way to locker room to start a day, ignoring the rest of Herrmann, O'Brien, and Casey's conversion. For the next few days, any thoughts of Buckley vanish.

*O*O*

A few weeks pass before he hears the name 'Buckley' again (by someone who is not his best friend teasing him), and like most shifts, Kelly is sitting at the squad table, his eyes focus on the playing cards in his hands. Ferraris and Capp are giving him 'You're going down' looks in the most competitive game that Kelly has played in a while. Cruz has already folded and is intent to simply watch, while he cleans his boots. Kelly isn't sure what Cruz's master plan is, making odd squeaks every time someone lays down a card, but it is driving him nuts.

From the corner of his eyes, he can see Stella and Brett chatting by the ambulance. His heart pings as a faded memory flashes before his eyes, their lips touching. At times, he deeply misses Stella, but he shoves those thoughts away and refocuses on the game. Those memories are painful. Ferraris flicks the top right corner of the card, a tell when he thinks he has a good hand.

"What are we betting here?" Capp teases as he waves his cards.

"The loser gets truck washing duties for the month?" Ferraris offers up.

Kelly rolls his eyes as he throws down the gently worn cards on the table. He eyes the dry coffee ring on the back of the card before he speaks, "Two rich for my blood." He has no interest in washing the truck for a month. With a smile, he gets to feet. "You two go for it."

Capp leans forward. "Oh, really, Lieutenant?"

Kelly shakes his head, not feeling in the mood for the playful banter from the guys. "Cruz, make sure these two play fair." Cruz glances up from his boots and smiles, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. No one is over Otis' death yet, but it weighs heavier on Cruz, adding a load that very few people understand. Kelly knows that feeling all too well when Leslie died, a hole opening in his chest. Years may have passed, but the overwhelming guilt and sadness still hangs in his soul.

"On it." Cruz replies.

With a nod, Kelly makes his way to the kitchen area, his mind focusing on getting a drink. He scans the room quickly, taking a quick note of who's here. Like always, Mouch is front of the television, his feet on the table and a drink in hand. Gallo, who has finally started to settle in, and Ritter are bouncing ideas back at each other, regarding what to make for lunch. Simple is always best for those two, but they never do simple. Kelly eyes them, silently asking himself for the 9th time who put those two in charge of food. No, he isn't the best cook, and no, he isn't going to offer to make lunch/dinner for the entire firehouse, but man, he worries about any dish they create.

Casey and Herrmann, a clip board between them, are sitting at the table discussing names for the next shift. After grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator, Kelly takes a seat across from them. He isn't sure what they're discussing, but it's better than his other choices.

"Got tired of Ferraris and Capp?" Casey asks, looking up.

"A guy can only take so much," Kelly responds. "So, what are you two up to?" He motions to the clip board. He can't read what's on it, but he can tell that it's names.

"One of the guys is going away for a week, and I need a floater." Herrmann answers. "So, we're looking through the available floaters. Most of these people are…" he shakes his head, cutting off his sentence with a harsh sigh. He keeps the unflattering words to himself.

"Are floaters for a reason." Casey finishes in a nice way.

"That isn't to say some aren't better than the others." Kelly says, and without asking, reaches for the clipboard. He has been lucky for the last few months, not needing a floater. Knock on wood. He looks down the list, noticing the name 'Buckley.' The image of Buckley leaving the firehouse flashes before his eyes, his shirt not hiding his fit body. How is Buckley still a floater? "What about Buckley?"

Casey gives Kelly a hard stare. "Don't think he would want to be creeped on."

Kelly exaggeratedly rolls his eyes. "I don't creep on people." It may have been weeks, but Casey hasn't let him live that stare down. He has no idea why Casey is on his ass about it.

"You stared at him as he got into his car."

"Did not."

Herrmann glances between the two, but he doesn't comment on their odd conversion. However, Kelly can see the judgment in his eyes. "Yea, he's my first choice. Been hearing good things about him."

Casey shots him a look. "Then why did you ask for my opinion."

With a sheepish smile, Herrmann replies, "I know as Captain you like-"

"Yea, yea," Casey replies, red in the face. No doubt recalling the fight he and Herrmann once had over a floater in the past. "You don't-"

The cheers of Ritter and Gallo cut through the room, interrupting every other conversion. Every head in the room snaps to them, nailing them with sharp, puzzled stares, and they shrink under the questioning gaze. Before anyone could question or ask any uncomfortable questions, the alarm rings. Perfect timing. Kelly has no interest in asking why they look like two deer in headlights.

*O*O*

The teams are unquestionably sweatier and dirtier when they roll back to the house. Foster and Brett are still out, rushing the victim to the hospital. Gallo is babying his right hand, having fallen on it as he dodged a falling, flaming debris. Judging by the stiff look on Casey's face, Gallo is about to get an earful, which is funny considering who is giving it. Casey takes just as many risks. Just like everyone—okay, not everyone—in this house. However, there are quite a few daredevils in this house. Okay, that isn't to say that Casey isn't careful. He takes calculated risks and ignores the fact that they are still risks. Gallo just takes risks.

Kelly watches Casey pull Gallo, who looks like a kick puppy, toward his office and turns away when they disappear from view. Stella catches his eyes for a second as he heads back to Squad three rig and hangs his gear on the truck's door. Whatever happened between them still burns, but Kelly has no interest in doing a deep drive into it to figure out why. It hurts too much. Instead, he focuses on Ferraris and Capp. "Okay, who lost earlier?" he asks, while staring at the forgotten playing cards.

Capp groans loudly, suddenly remembering, as a deep red blooms in his face. Ferraris smiles like he is a child in a candy factory. "I won." He leans back in his chair, smirks, and points to the cleaning supplies.

Kelly laughs as Cruz just shakes his head and heads to the kitchen. "Well, get to it." Kelly playfully ordered.

"On it." Capp replies before nailing Ferraris with a heavy glare. "Don't worry I will get you back."

"I am not worried." Ferraris snickers.

The heaviness that flourished under Shay's death weakens just a bit watching his team playfully tease each other, and Kelly feels light. There is nowhere else he would rather be.

*O*O*

A few shifts pass before Kelly spots the Floater Buckley in the locker room putting away his gear. Buckley is staring intently at the floater locker oblivious to the world around him, as he neatly hangs up his street clothes. Being creepier than Kelly cares to admit, he watches Buckley, his eyes lingering over his form longer than what is socially acceptable. He can't help but take this man apart inch by inch with his eyes as he tries to figure out how Buckley is still a floater. He isn't sure why it matters. Just look at those arms…Stop it. He yells at himself. If Casey walks in that moment, Kelly could imagine the crap he would receive from his best friend.

Shaking himself out of his pondering, mischievous thoughts, he loudly and awkwardly announces himself, "Um…Hey, Kelly Severide, Lieutenant on Squad three." He takes a step forward and holds out his hand. Buckley quite visibly finches and drops the Chicago Fire shirt in his hand. "sh*t. Sorry. Don't mean to startle you."

Straightening up, Buckle glances at Kelly, his eyes guarded and unreadable. A painful second goes by as his wary eyes zero in on Kelly's out reached hand like he is assessing a threat, which startles Kelly for a second. However, before he can mull over why Buckley seems so nervous, the cautious look is gone, replaced by a fatigued one. "Evan Buckley," Buckley huffs out, his entire body languages changing, and he tosses his bag into the locker.

Sensing Buckley has no interest in shaking his hand, Kelly lowers it, while trying not to be offended. Not everyone is as opened as he is. Though, according to some, he isn't very welcoming either, but he isn't as frosty as Buckley is being. "How are you doing?" he asks, suddenly uncomfortable with his own question.

"Good, I guess." Buckley answers, a strained expression on his face. He pulls his Chicago Fire T-shirt over his head.

Totally, not the average floater, Kelly thinks, his eyes too focused on his chest. Buckley could give him a run for his money in the abs department. It was-

"Hey, Buckley!" Herrmann calls, stepping locker room just as Buckley closes the locker.

"Yes," Buckley responds—the coldness suddenly disappearing-, looking pass Kelly and toward Herrmann.

Herrmann shots Kelly a curious look before waving Buckley over. "There're a few things on Engine that I want to go over."

"Sure," Buckley replies, spotting a smile for the first time.

Kelly waves as he turns away. "I'll leave you two to it." He strains his ear for a second to hear Herrmann and Buckley's conversion before stops himself. Their conversion is none of his business, and why does he care?

*O*O

Hours later, Kelly, leaning back in his recliner, reads a 2-month-old firefighter magazine for the third time, as he ignores the rest of the station. By the entire station, he means Ferraris and Capp, who are currently shooting playful insults at the other. Ferraris, sitting across from Kelly, is pointing at spots—some barely blemishes-on the truck that he claims to need more love from Capp. He's about to say something to Ferraris about not being a swore winner when Buckley catches his eyes. He has no idea why he is so drawn to Buckley. Maybe, it's because he's a mystery, and Kelly likes mysteries...Why does that sound dirty? "Behave," he warns softly as he puts down the magazine and gets to his feet.

Buckley, one headphone in and one out, is on the other side of the apparatus, a broom in hand. His lips are moving, but Kelly can't make out what he's singing along to until he's within a few feet. With the biggest smile he has ever seen on the man, Buckley is tapping his feet and shaking his hips. Who is happy cleaning? And for some reason, Kelly can't look away; his eyes are glued to Buckley's backside. What the hell are you doing, Severide? He asks himself as he forces his eyes up.

He opens his mouth but slams it shut, almost biting his tongue off in his embarrassment, as he edits the words in his head for the second time. He doesn't know why he is tongue tied over a floater. "Y-you don't have to do that. We have rookies for that." Kelly states, smiling. "Watching Gallo and Ritter trip over themselves is funny." For the first time in a long time, he feels awkward in his own skin.

Once again, Buckley visibly winces and freezes, which doesn't sit well with Kelly. "It's no problem," he states, holding the broom close to his chest. "Just like to keep busy." He shrugs, and somehow, he shrinks into himself, looking half his size.

There's something in his tone that ellipses Kelly's self-doubts and rubs him the wrong way at the same time. Why is this kid so self-conscious? "I can get that." Kelly has never been a floater, even in his early days. His last name opened doors for him, so he can only guess how awkward it is to be in a new house daily. "Want any help?"

"No-" The alarm rings, calling for Truck 81 and Engine 51. "Well, I got to go." A glimpse of relief passes over his face.

Kelly steps aside and watches the crews of Truck 81 and Engine 51 dash to their trucks and gear up. His eyes are still on Buckley, who jumps into his turnover gear like a seasoned veteran. There is definitely a story there, a story Kelly would be interesting in hearing. Just as Buckley jumps in, Truck 81's blaring horn draws Kelly's attention, and he's met with Casey's calculating eyes. Kelly just smiles and waves, ignoring the embarrassment that bubbles inside him. Unlike most people, Matt Casey can see right through him.

Shortly after Truck 81 and Engine 51 leave, Squad 3 is called, which distracts Kelly from the lecture he is coming.

*O*O*

By the time Squad 3 pulls back into the firehouse, Truck 81 and Engine 51 had returned, and there's energy in the air that hasn't been there before. "What's going on here?" He asks as he shrugs off his turnover jack.

"I almost died!" Herrmann shouts, as he, his hands swinging above his head, drives into some wild tale about how this car paid no attention to the flashing fire trucks and came busting down street. Buckley, not an ounce of hesitation and faster than anyone thought possible, tackles him out of way. "These people nowadays."

"That driver is lucky that Buckley saved you." Mouch replies, making his way toward the couch. "If not, the driver would've had to deal with me." He flexes.

Everyone laughs at that, though Cruz rolls his eyes. "Oh, so scary."

"I don't know I'm scared." Herrmann laughed.

"No, I'm scared of Cindy." Cruz laughs. A cheer of eyes echoes across the apparatus.

Stella shakes her head. "I for one do not want to be on the other end of her glare."

Herrmann points to her. "Bingo, but you got to love her!" The smile on his face is huge, his eyes lightening up whenever he speaks or thinks about Cindy.

It's kind of sickening to see how sweet Herrmann gets over his wife. Granted, Herrmann isn't the only one in this house who gets like this when thinking of a loved one. "Where is Buckley?" Kelly asks not seeing the floater.

Casey, his eyes probing, hangs his jack on 81's door. "Foster and Brett took him to Chicago Med for a once over. He hit his head pretty hard." He winks sympathetically.

"When he gets back, let me know. I owe that man a drink!" Herrmann cheers, the softness disappearing from his eyes.

"Just one?" Stella teases. "I think you promised him several."

Herrmann pauses. "Did I?" He scratches his chin. "Okay, maybe more than one. Next time I see him, I'm inviting him to Molly's."

"That's the spirit." Mouch cheers.

Kelly watches as Mouch wraps an arm around Herrmann and directs him to the kitchen. While their voices carry, Kelly doesn't pay much attention to what they're talking about. He just watches as Mouch and Herrmann huddle together and laugh. His mind wandering, he doesn't notice Casey until he grabs him by his under arm and pulls him aside. At first, Kelly resists, nailing Casey w a hard stare. "What?" Kelly utters.

Casey gives him an unimpressed look until Kelly relents and follows him to his small Lieutenant office/sleeping quarters. They walk in an awkward silence that Kelly hasn't earned, but he doesn't question his Captain. Not yet at least. He just wishes he could understand the stiffness in his best friend. Did he do something? It is possible, considering he is him, and his judgement isn't always perfect.

After stepping into the small office and making sure Kelly is in, Casey closes the door behind him, and getting straight to the point, asks. "What is your deal with Buckley?"

"Deal? I don't know what you're talking about." Kelly shoots back, utterly confused. He is simply curious. Is that a crime? It isn't like he is staring… Okay, isn't staring a lot. Have you seen him? Shaking his head, Kelly turns slightly and leans back against the wall.

"I've caught you staring at him." Casey let out a sigh as he takes a seat at his desk. "More than once."

"So?"

Casey's lip twitches, visibly uncomfortable with this conversation. "I know your stares."

"You know my stares?" Kelly articulates slowly, disbelief heavy on his face. His brain has trouble wrapping its self around that. Is that surprising? No, but he isn't sure he likes the idea of being so readable. He opens his mouth to respond, but he quickly closes it, unable up with a reasonable excuse.

"Kelly," Casey speaks, not likely the struggle in Kelly's face.

Kelly, putting more show into than needed, dramatically rolls his eyes. "I'm just curious. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Casey huffs. "Is this about him being a floater? There are a hundred of different reasons for that, and if Buckley wants to tell you, he will." He pauses. "However, that doesn't mean there is anything to tell."

"You aren't curious?"

"It isn't my place to be. As long as Buckley does his job that's all what matters, and he's doing his job." Casey glances out the window as he catches sight of the ambulance. "Best damn floater I've seen in a while." He adds as an afterthought.

Kelly follows Casey's eyes, and as he chews on the side of his lips, Kelly's mind wanders. He knows this is why Casey is concerned, but he can't help it. Who is Evan Buckley? Why is he so jumpy? So distant? These questions will haunt Kelly for a while. Granted, he isn't even sure why it matters to him, considering Buckley is a floater, and Casey is right: the guy won't be here for long.

"And I can't help you if Buckley calls HR on you." Casey adds, drawing Kelly from his thoughts.

Kelly snorts. "I'm too cute for that." He was about to protest that no one would call HR on him, but considering what happened in the past, those words got stuck in his throat. While those were false claims, they still haunt him to this day, both his mental state and reputation took a hit. He still gets stares, and his latest in-house fling doesn't help. Yet, those were sexual claims, and these are… Okay, Kelly doesn't know what these are, but he just finds himself interested in learning who his Evan Buckley person is. There is nothing sexual or romantic about it.

He just wants to know who Evan Buckley is.

Chapter 2: Who is Evan Buckley?

Chapter Text

Chapter 2:

Who is Evan Buckley

A few months ago:

Evan 'Buck' Buckley….

Evan 'Buck' Buckley…

Who is Evan 'Buck' Buckley? He's a firefighter, right? No, not anymore. But if he isn't a firefighter, who is he? Ever since that firetruck landed on his leg, his entire life has changed. Now, he's nothing more than a station sitter. A glorified maid. He doesn't go on runs. Doesn't get included in team activities. Doesn't get invited out. He's left alone. For Buck, being left alone is the worst punishment you can give him. Does Firehouse 118 not know this? Do they not know what long-term isolation does to a person?

Buck can tell you. Buck can tell you anything you want to know. He can write an essay, having done in-depth research on the matter. Prolonged isolation can have a profoundly negative impact on one's mind, mood, and body. Research has shown that chronic social isolation increases the risk of mental health issues like depression, anxiety, and substance abuse, as well as chronic conditions like high blood pressure, heart disease and diabetes. He would've thought Hen and Chimney would know this, but no.

Maybe, they didn't notice.

Maybe, they didn't want to notice.

Maybe, he's a good actor.

Whatever it is, his identity is gone. His purpose is gone. Everything is gone and all sense of self vanished. This is why he fought to get it back. This is why he sued. Why he pushed. He's stupid to think it would go back to 'normal.' It's a fruitless dream to think he could step right back in next to his best friend. After returning to the Firehouse after the lawsuit, he held the belief that it would, but after two months of working on a frosty tundra, he is an empty shell, everything yanked from him. He thought he found a home in the 118 with his sister and his friends. He thought he created a family, but he was wrong. It's an illusion, a lie he tricked himself into believing. It's a lie that he will never tell himself again. He will never allow his heart to be ripped from his chest and stomped on again.

Not again. Never again.

He knows he's partly to blame, as he brought on the lawsuit and spilled all of his 'family's' secrets to his lawyer. But he never did it to spite anyone. He never did it for the money. It was getting back to the job he loves. No, firefighting is more than a job. It's a lifeline. Yet, he has just handed in his resignation. It's screwed up when Buck thinks about it. He fought and won, and yet he's walking away from his dream career. Is it his dream anymore? More like a nightmare. Maybe, it's good that he's walking away. The job is a curse. It is a lie. Made him think that his fellow firefighters are more than coworkers. That they are family, but they are not, and he can no longer work alongside them.

Not among his former friends, his former family.

Not among his former Captain, a man who was like a father to him.

Not his former best friend, who could have been more.

It stings like frostbite when Buck thinks about it. The ice punch to the gut shatters him, and the pieces of him are smashed beyond repair. His heart heavy in his chest, it takes everything in him to pick the fragments of himself off the ground and walk away. With every step, it feels like someone is stabbing him in the heart, his lungs heavy with smoke. He ignores the guilt of leaving his sister without notice, but if he sees her, his resolve will break, and he will do whatever she asks, even if it means staying here. He feels sh*tty, but he can't stay. The memories will kill him.

He packs what he can into boxes and stuffs them in his jeep. The large boxes that he cannot fit—when did he get so much stuff?— are left in the apartment for the movers to move into storage. His middle-aged neighbor, who has been awesome and sweet through all of it, agreed to supervise the movers. Buck thanks her with a smile and money for the storage before getting into his Jeep and disappearing down the road.

He hesitates at the city's border, his grip shaking on the steering wheel. His hands are trembling so bad that he's forced to pull to the side of the highway for ten minutes. "You got this," he tells himself, his heart racing. He repeats this numerous times, too many to count, and takes several deep breaths to slow his heart and steady his hands. Just as he places his hand on the shifter, his phone rings, causing him to leap out of his skin. Maddie's name pops across his screen, his hand twitching to answer it, and he almost does before the irate faces of the 118 faces pop up. A coolness washes over him, an anger taking over, and he chucks the phone. It cracks on impact with the floorboard. Good ridden.

After a violent shake of the head, Buck shifts his Jeep into drive and continues out of town. "I am not at fault." He hisses as he puts his foot to the metal. He doesn't know where he's going. Doesn't know what he's going to do. Doesn't know what he wants to do. What he does know is that Los Angeles is his past. His eyes are on the future.

*O*O*

Present

Gallo and Ritter squabble the moment they step into the kitchen area. Not exactly bickering, but it feels like it. They playfully slap each other, shooting down the other's idea with a goofy smile. While Casey visibly shakes his head at the two, the Captain, in fact, doesn't mind it, simply smiles when he catches the two. Munch and Cruz ignore them, yapping away at the TV for some reason or not. Kelly, 95% of the time, ignores the two when he crosses to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. He has learned this is the best option. Kelly, his stomach softly growling, lingers in the opened refrigerator door for a second, as he ponders if he wants whatever it is that Gallo and Ritter are cooking or a sandwich. A sandwich sounds really good and a safe bet.

"You are going to ruin your appetite."

It takes Kelly a second to realize Ritter is speaking to him. He straights up and glances at the oddly colored meat in the pan. Best guess it's beef, but he isn't sure. "That's okay." Kelly replies as he grabs a bottle of water. "I'm-"

"There he is!" Herrmann's loud voice echoes from the apparatus floor.

Kelly takes two feet to the left for a better view and follows Herrmann's voice down the hallway. While he doesn't have the perfect view of the apparatus floor, he can see the corner of the Ambo through the windows. He isn't sure how long they have been back, but judging by Herrmann's overly excited voice, he has been waiting there for them.

Herrmann, hands wrapped around Buckley's shoulders, drags the Floater down the hallway. "Look who's back!" he cheers, shaking Buckley with both arms. Kelly resists the urge to flinch as Herrmann's boisterous voice carries throughout the house. At hearing Herrmann's dramatic cheer, several additional members of firehouse 51 filter in. Each appears to be just as confused and concerned as the next when they line up at the doorways.

"Hey." Buckley greets, his voice small. Somehow, he, still in his turnover gear, looks tiny next to Herrmann, who is nearly half his size out of gear. He looks almost panicked.

What does Buckley have to be panicking about? Kelly scans the room, taking note of everyone's amused expression. No one seems to have noticed, though Casey is hard to read.

"This guy," Herrmann starts again. "Saved my life." He shakes Buckley once more as if he could pass Buckley his energy.
"Buckley, you get free drinks for a month!"

"For a month?" Munch sits up. "I don't-"

Herrmann's left hand leaves Buckley's shoulder and waves nonchalantly at Munch. "Okay. Solid point. All you can drink for one night." He pats Buckley on the shoulder. "So, you, me tomorrow at Molly's after shift!"

Kelly's eyes zero in on Buckley's face, and though he tries to mask it, Buckley wants to be anywhere but here, which strikes Kelly as odd. Why? Herrmann can be overdramatic at times, but he's harmless. Out of the corner of his eye, Brett catches his. From the sharpness in her eyes, she is seeing the same signals that he is.

"It's fine," Buckley replies quickly. "Doing my job." He is drowning.

"No, no. You deserve it. You may be a floater, but we're still a family, and family parties at Molly's." Herrmann protests.

If possible, Buckley shrinks even more. "Wait? I saved your life on several occasions." Kelly injects, pointing his water to Herrmann. "Where are my free drinks?"

Brett takes a step forward, her tiny hand in the air. "I think I deserve some free drinks. I'm pretty sure I've worked on everyone in this room." She points to the entire room. She meets Kelly's eyes, a playful but thankful smile on her face.

Cruz interjects, "I second—third that!"

Mouch bounces upright. "I know I saved your life several times. How do I get into this?"

Herrmann rolls his eyes, finally stepping away from Buckley. He points a stiff finger at his friend. "You own half the bar! You don't need any free drinks!"

"Well, if we're passing around free drinks to people who have saved your life." Mouch counters.

The small dining area erupts in chatter, demanding—playfully stating- they deserve drinks. While no one believes they are owed free drinks (nor would they bankrupt Mouch, Trudy, or Herrmann), this is for fun. It's hilarious to watch Herrmann's cheeks puff up as he shoots a finger at each of them. "No. No. No. No. I will ban you all. Kidd, take notes!"

Stella laughs. "On it."

As Herrmann goes off, Kelly watches as Buckley takes several, small steps back. Kelly's sure Buckley will spook if anyone even looks at him. Again, that strikes Kelly as bizarre, but if Buckley doesn't want to be in a crowded room with them, he isn't going to fault him.

*O*O*

After he's sure that it will go unnoticed, Kelly sneaks—though he never sneaks. He's Kelly Severide after all—and searches Buckley out. Mostly, he just wants to make sure the guy's okay. Besides the fact that Buckley looks like a deer in headlights, he did smack his head on the road when he saved Herrmann. Considering he's still on duty, it mustn't have been bad. Boden would have sent him home in a heartbeat.

Kelly checks the apparatus floor first for the wayward Floater, but all he sees is Buckley's turnover gear hanging off Engine 51 and his boots beneath. He shoots a quick look down the driveway but sees no sign of the Floater. For a split second, he ponders why he is actively looking for the Floater. He lets out a heavy sigh and waves off his search. Buckley is a grown man, a grown man who isn't even on his crew or a member of this house.

Just before he turns to walk to his Officer Quarters, he hears some odd banging coming from within the coat room. Eyebrow raised, Kelly heads to the room, opens the door and twists himself around it. He isn't sure what he's expecting, but when he scans the small, narrow room, he sees nothing, only the turnover gears from the other shifts. "Just hearing things, Severide," he mutters to himself. He isn't one to believe in ghosts; he would leave that to the other members of the house.

As he turns away, a pair of boots suddenly moves, drawing Kelly's attention to the back corner of the coatroom. Kelly pauses for a second, squinting his eyes at the spot. The coats quickly morph into a singular large figure, and when he closes the distance, the man's face becomes clear. It's Buckley. His eyes are closed, his head back against the wall, as he sits in the corner on the ground. He attempted to hide behind the coats, and with a quick glance, it works, Buckley almost blends in.

Kelly contemplates turning around as it's clear Buckley doesn't want the company. No one hides in the coat room when they want companionship or friendship. However, he doesn't feel comfortable leaving a fellow firefighter in distress. "Buckley, you okay?"

Said man jumps, literally jumps. His eyes are wild when they land on him. "Yes. Yes, Sir." He croaks. "Sorry. Didn't ?" Buckley is speaking a million miles per second, and Kelly is having a hard time understanding what is spewing out of his mouth.

"Hey. Hey!" he shouts louder than he intends to. Buckley freezes. "We're all going to sleep on the job in a few hours." He winks.

Buckley takes a deep breath, his chest exhaling largely. "Sorry." He puts on a smile. "Did you need something?"

The smile rubs Kelly in the wrong way. "No, just wanted to check up on you. Are you okay? Heard you took a hit when you tackled Herrmann out of the way." The only obvious injury is the spot above Buckley's birthmark, white steri-strips stretched across it.

"Oh," Buckley utters, sheepish. "Yea, I'm fine. No concussion, just this." He points to the cut.

"Good."

Buckley stands stiff. "If that's all, Lieutenant?" He asks it like a question, but it sounds more like a statement as he doesn't wait for a response. He zips around Kelly and out the door in mere seconds.

Kelly is left more bewildered than he was when he entered the room. "Okay, then."

*O*O*

Night has fallen. An exquisite silence has fallen onto the station, no alarms in the last two hours. Everyone knocks on wood before heading to bed, and without a bell to interrupt their slumber, most are asleep within minutes from the taxing day. A few are struggling to fall asleep, rolling side to side but refusing to get out of bed and accept defeat. For Kelly, it's one of those days, where nothing he does worked. He holds the pillow to his face for twenty minutes before he accepts the loss and with an exhausted moan, Kelly rolls out of bed and sluggishly makes his way to the kitchen. After Ritter and Gallo's recent dinner nightmare—yes, nightmare-, his stomach has been growling for hours, which is probably why he can't sleep. Can't snooze when your stomach is yelling at you. While a sandwich isn't heavy enough to satisfy his hunger, it's better than nothing, and oddly enough, a sandwich sounds yummy. His mouth is almost watering just thinking about it.

However, that dream is put on pause for a second as it seems he isn't the only one in the mood for a midnight snack in the quiet house. Before he even rounds the corner, the soft hums of a person singing hits his ears. Kelly slows for a second and transfers his weight to the balls of his feet to quiet his steps, not wanting to disturb or scare the person, which may be impossible. This floor is horrible at suppressing sound, and every step echoes like a herd of children running at full speed.

When Kelly rounds the corner, he spots the singer. It's the Floater, Evan Buckley, at the oven cooking. Kelly doesn't notice the music, softer than Buckley's humming, until he steps into the doorway. Buckley is tapping and singing away at the beat, and Kelly can't help but grin, listening. He knows the proper thing would be to announce himself, but when Kelly opens his mouth, nothing comes out. So, he just stands there, leaning against the door frame, and watches as Buckley, with a suave in his hips, moves around the kitchen like a pro, whipping up some egg dish. Kelly doesn't know this guy, but he looks at peace behind the stove, which is the most relaxed that Kelly has seen Buckley. A solid two minutes go by, and he is still in the doorway, his hunger forgotten. His eyes are fixed on the Floater.

Kelly can't tell you why Buckley fascinates him. New Firefighters or visiting Floaters have never caught his eye before, especially not the awkward ones… Or the male ones. Maybe, it's the mystery about him? Who doesn't like a good mystery? Humans are curious beings, information seekers. If there is a secret, there are people there to solve it. They even pay for it. Plus, who would not want to solve the mystery of Evan Buckley?

At some point, Buckley glances up and stiffens when he catches sight of Kelly in the doorframe. "sh*t," he curses, dropping the pan, which flips on contact with the countertop. Eggs are sent flying, landing every which way.

"Sorry," Kelly, eyes wide, quickly replies as he pushes off the frame. "I didn't mean… Well, I don't mean to continually startle you." He intentionally doesn't mention how long he has been standing there, embarrassed by the thought.

Buckley glances down again at his ruined eggs. "Did I wake you?" He asks, awkwardly. "Sorry, Lieutenant. I shouldn't have been cooking at this hour. Should have consider-"

"Stop. Stop." Kelly interrupts, struck by Buckley's quiet tone. While Buckley isn't hissing like a scared cat, there's a bit of alarm in his voice. He's a scared child about to be punished, which confuses Kelly even more. While he has not seen Buckley in action, his reputation as a Firefighter is astounding, glowing reviews from everyone. Herrmann hasn't shut up about Buckley's quick reflexes, and yet, that description does not match the man in front of him. "It's fine."

"I didn't-"

"Hey." Kelly puts up his hand. "No big deal. In fact, I'm hungry myself. Great minds think alike." He crosses to the counter, observing Buckley go stiff. He takes his eyes off the Floater for a second, noting how clean the kitchen/dining area looks. It hasn't looked this clean in a while, and judging by the shiny wet tables, he did this in the last hour. Does this man sleep?

"Lieutenant-"

Kelly sighs heavily. "You can drop the Lieutenant stuff. Just us." He swears he hasn't heard his title this often in ages.

"Sorry."

"Enough with the sorrys."

Buckley goes pinkish. "Sor-" The word dies in his throat at Kelly's pointed stare. Kelly is so sick of that word. With a shake of his head, he eyes the egg on the floor. "Let me get the broom."

"No. My mess. I got it." Buckley protests.

"Well, I did give you a heart attack for the—third?- third time this shift." Kelly turns toward the supply room. "I got it." Buckley again tries to protest, but Kelly emphatically rolls his eyes as he grabs the broom and dust pan. When he returns, Buckley protests for the third time, claiming it as his mess. "Did you forget you're in a firehouse? We're a team, a family. Floater or not."

Buckley visibly flinches. "Okay." He says quietly as he moves aside.

Kelly replays his last few words in his head, but he isn't sure why Buckley flinched. He ponders it for a second as he quickly—though messily—sweeps up the eggs. Kelly's sure he missed some, but he will order Ritter and Gallo to clean it up in the morning. "All better," he smiles as he dumps the dirty eggs into the trash. "And once again, sorry."

"Just eggs," The Firefighter shrugs. "I can make some more."

"Don't let me get in your way." Kelly replies, as he returns the broom to its rightful place.

Buckley twitches before he takes a deep breath. "Do you…" He pauses, his words getting stuck in his throat.

Kelly turns and grins. "Do I what?"

His eyes dropping to the egg carton, Buckley whispers, "D-do you want some? I can make extra."

It takes a moment for Kelly to process what the Floater just whispered. "Um, if it's no big deal." He hadn't expected him to offer, and while Kelly has a craving for a sandwich, eggs don't sound bad, especially if they're Buckley's eggs. Eggs are eggs, but for some reason, Buckley's eggs smell delicious.

"It's no issue." Buckley, not looking at Kelly, replies with a shrug.

"Okay, sure." Kelly leans against the countertop, watching as Buckley—with none of the grace that he had before—moves around the kitchen.

*O*O*

Buckley motions Kelly to the long table as he removes the pan from the heat and plating a portion of the eggs. "I can get it." Kelly offers, but Buckley shoos him away. It almost feels playful, but that playfulness is gone in a flash. "Fine. Fine." He, his back facing the wall, takes a seat closest to the stove.

"Here you go," The Floater speaks, setting down a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. It smells heavenly.

"Thanks!"

Buckley crosses back to the stove to fix his own plate. He scopes the remaining eggs onto his plate and gently places the pan into the sink. "Good?" he asks, his eyes on his own eggs.

Just as he expects, these eggs are heavenly. Nice and fluffy. "Yes. Who taught you how to cook?" Kelly asks, though he regrets it a second later. Buckley freezes. "Buckley?"

Shaking his head, Buckley straightens up. "My old captain." He replies but offers no other words as he heads to the opposite table.

For the next few moments, Kelly ponders his words carefully, wondering if he should keep the following questions to himself. There's a story there, but considering the guy is sitting the farthest from him, it's clear the kid has no interest in talking about it. In the end, he goes with, "I don't bite." …Well sometimes. Suddenly aware of what he said, Kelly goes red for a second, wondering where that came from. That's totally not work appropriate. Says the guy who had sex in the coat room. But hey, he isn't the only one to have sex in this firehouse.

Buckley stares. "Um, I am okay."

Kelly tries to not let the rejection get to him, but it stings. "Okay." He isn't going to force Buckley to sit next to him, especially when the day's earlier events hung fresh in his head. Instead, he turns his attention back to the eggs and continues to eat. Apart from the light music still softly playing, silence falls between the two. While Kelly hadn't expected a thrilling conversion at 2:30 in the morning, he isn't expecting this either. Is Buckley this quiet at other stations? Or is it just this situation? Is it him? Whatever the reason, it's driving him nuts. Why is this even bugging him? It's bugging him that it's bugging him. He's Kelly Severide. Why does it matter if a Floater wants to keep to himself? Buckley doesn't have to interact with the rest of the house if it makes him uncomfortable. As long as he's a good Firefighter, that's all that matters.

After finishing his eggs, Kelly pushes back his plate. He glances up at Buckley, who is still staring very intensely at his plates. "You don't have to go to Molly's after shift if you don't want to." Kelly shots out. Buckley glances up but doesn't say anything. "Don't let Herrmann bully you." He pauses. "He means well, but he gets too excited at times."

Buckley mumbles, Kelly unable to make out what, under his breath. "I get it. He appreciates it. You know, a father with 5 kids. Happy to see them again."

Kelly laughs. "Oh, he told you about them."

"Yes." The briefest of smiles passes across his lips. "He went on and on about the oldest one and his career goals."

"He'll talk your ear off if you let him." Kelly says. Buckley mindlessly nods. "And he can talk anyone into anything." He pauses. "Well, not everything. Before Molly's, he had some bad… Let's call them bad investments." He laughs.

Again, the tiniest smile graces his face. "Yea." Once more, the room falls silent a second later.

Kelly doesn't attempt to re-engage Buckley in conversion, knowing he has pushed the Floater enough today. No need to push him any further. Kelly gets to get feet, grabs his plate and heads to the sink.

Buckley turns back. "I can get that."

Kelly gives him a 'don't you dare' look. "No, Buckley. You cooked; I clean." Buckley bits his bottom lip, wanting to protest, but his mouth snaps close. Kelly eyes the expression before replying, "You don't have to clean everything. Rest. Get some sleep"

"I like to keep busy." Buckley responds drily, his glance dropping down to his plate. Only a bite remains.

A dark cloud hangs over the Floater, but Kelly doesn't push. Whatever baggage he has, it is his. Plus, Buckley will be gone shortly enough. No need to pull teeth.

*O*O*

While Kelly had finally gotten a few hours of sleep, his bed is still calling his name. As soon as he gets home, he's taking a long nap. However, Casey isn't going to let him go that quickly. After changing into his street clothes, Casey comes up behind him and says, "Did you behave last night?"

Kelly shoots him a confused, bewildered stare. "Behave myself? I always behave."

Casey snorts. "Yea, no. Do I need to make a list?"

"You're one to talk," Kelly counters as he pulls away from Casey.

"Yea, but I'm not obsessed with the Floater."

Kelly flings his bag over his shoulder and quickens his pace. "I am not obsessed with Buckley." He huffs. Casey mumbles something under his breath but doesn't repeat it. Kelly nails him with a probing stare. "Oh, come on. Just spill."

Casey shakes his head and starts, "Doing-"

"There he is!" Herrmann's voice cuts across the floor. "Buckley!" The lieutenant, his bag bouncing on his back, dashes out onto the apparatus floor and makes a beeline to Buckley.

Buckley halts, his posture stiff. "Yes, Lieutenant," He acknowledges, as he turns to face the oncoming Herrmann. "Did you need something?"

For the second time, Herrmann wraps his arm around Buckley's shoulder. "Yes, for you to come to Molly."

This time around, while there isn't a crowd of people drilling into him with their eyes, there's still an air of discomfort in Buckley's shoulder. "Umm…"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. C'mon, it will be fun. I may be biased as it is my bar and all, but best bar in all of Chicago." Herrmann charges on.

"Can he not see how uncomfortable he is?" A voice from behind Kelly and Casey throws out, startling the both of them.

Kelly will deny jumping if asked. He doesn't get spooked by the tiny Sylvie Brett. "Give a guy a warning," he jokingly orders, rubbing at his chest. Casey, on the other hand, turns to Herrmann and Buckley, his eyes narrow. He doesn't say anything at first, just observes Buckley.

"So, is it a yes?" Herrmann asks, his voice carrying.

Buckley hesitates for a second time. "Okay."

Herrmann takes it as a yes and beams. "Good Man." He pats the Floater on the back before releasing him. If Buckley hasn't been so uncomfortable, it would've been hilarious how fast he books out of the firehouse and toward his Jeep.

Following Buckley with his eyes, Casey huffs and turns back to Brett. "I'll talk to Hermann. Thanks, Sylvie." He nods at Brett and walks toward the father of five. Kelly watches Casey intercept Herrmann and pull him aside, but he can't hear their conversion; however, judging by Herrmann's sour expression, he gets the picture.

"I'm just glad I'm not the only one to notice his discomfort," Brett voices, but she walks off before Kelly could respond and joins Stella down the driveways.

*O*O*

Herrmann glances up at the clock, for the sixth time this hour, and lets out a deep sigh before he goes back to wiping down the bar. Stella stares at the Firefighting Owner, her eyes calculating. "Are you okay, Herrmann?" Being a weekday, Molly's isn't crowded, and luckily, there isn't a large crowd to see him pouting.

"Buckley isn't here yet." Herrmann sulks.

"Herrmann, we talked about this," Casey chastises, as he leans against the bar top.

Said man waves the Captain off. Casey gives him a sharp look. "What? I am respecting his person! I just want to hand him a cold beer."

A few stools down, Kelly watches as Herrmann and Casey go back and forth. He may have been hopeful to see Buckley walk through the door, but he didn't—still doesn't believe that it is likely.

"Herrmann should give up on that dream." A voice calls out from Kelly's left.

Kelly glances down to the end of the bar, just a few seats from him. "What?"

O'Brien, a Lieutenant from a different shift, takes a sip of his bear. "Buckley's a loner. You've a better shot of findin' oil. Right, Aaron?"

Aaron's— a firefighter from a different station- last name escapes Kelly's memory, but he hasn't heard anything bad about the Lieutenant. Aaron shifts his weight from side to side as he cracks a nut. "Buckley basically likes to do his job and leave, not that I'm complaining. I enjoy not having to babysit a guy when I'm already babysitting the house." He takes a drink of his own beer. "Shouldn't be moaning. How often do you have a Floater, who puts his 110% into his job?"

Kelly mindlessly nods, nursing his over beer. That's the first thing he noted about Buckley. "I'm surprised someone like him hasn't been scooped up by some house."

"Hasn't been for a lack of trying." Aaron admitted, tilting his half empty beer bottle at Kelly. "I offered him a spot in my crew, but he declined it."

O'Brien leans back in his chair and folds his arm across his chest, almost spilling his beer. "Didn't he turn down a spot at 26?"

Aaron nods. "He did."

"What reasoning did he give?" Kelly asks, turning his body and chair toward Aaron and O'Brien. He's far too interested in this Floater and conversion. "And can a firefighter turn down a placement?" As a Lieutenant, he has never heard of that. Floaters want a permanent home. They don't turn it down.

"He made some bogus claim that he liked being a floater." Aaron waves it off.

"Bogus?"

"I'm not one to judge, nor am I taking a firefighter who doesn't want the spot." Aaron shrugs. "But hey, if he wants to clean the whole house while visiting, I'm not going to stop it."

Kelly personally doesn't believe you should let a Floater clean the entire station by himself, as that feels dirty, even if he wants to do it. However, why does a Floater or anyone want to? It's a groan fest with other Firefighters. "What, no cleaning toilets for you?" he mocks.

O'Brien snorts. "No, that's why we have candidates."

Aaron raises his bear. "Here here."

Kelly follows suit, though he sneaks a glance down at Herrmann, Stella and Casey. Stella's laughter floats down the bar as Casey points sharply at Herrmann, a playful warning in the air. His heart clenches as his ex tosses her head back in a fit of laughter. "Here here." He cheers, his mind wondering. It isn't long before his mind is back on the Floater, which irritates him. Why is he so focused on Buckley? Well, it is almost over. After their next shift (Buckley having one more shift on Engine 51), he probably won't see him again.

Just one more shift.

Chapter 3: Damn Buckley

Chapter Text

Chapter 3:

Damn Buckley

A few months ago

Not one cloud in the sky, the sun's intense rays stretching far, and sunglasses are a must. The heat is unbearable, though not dreadful when you have your foot on the gas going 60 plus miles per hour. The wind feels wonderful against the heat in Evan Buckley's cheeks, and it almost numbs the pain, almost. If this day had been any other day and not the day he left LA, it would've been perfect, but now, it's a far from perfect day. It's the day he left his home.

Buck, a restlessness deep in his bones, doesn't know where he's going or what his future plan is, and just drives. His mind in a fog, he picks a random direction and takes off. For the first three hours, the music is on blast, the windows rattling. He can't tell you what he's listening to, can't tell you the genre or the style. He can only tell you it's deafening, loud enough to drown out his toxic thoughts. Without the melody, he might've listened to these dangerous thoughts and turned around. His doubts are screaming in his ears, demanding he go back and beg for forgiveness.

At hour 4 of driving nonstop, his hands wrapped tightly on the steering wheel, he stops for gas and some gas station food. Oh, the joy. With the engine—and by extension, the music- off, the earlier misgivings are back, though seemingly dimmed by the distance and smell of stale food, which tastes better than it has any right to. Topping off his tank, he chews on his odd tasting jerky and finally allows himself to contemplate his next move. He hasn't been thinking about his final destination when his tires hit the road, but it might be beneficial to have a place in mind. Several places to avoid come to mind. Top of the list is his parents. He has no interest whatsoever in visiting them in Pennsylvania. His distant, cold parents would just make it worse.

But then where?

This isn't the first time he has jumped into his Jeep and drove off without a second thought, though he hasn't expected to be doing it again. While he enjoyed and cherished every memory from his trip around the world, he doesn't want to do it again, and yet, here he is. He wants this 'phase' of his life to be over, needs it to be. Maybe, it's because he has tasted the good life: friends, family, the perfect job, etc. And everything else feels wrong.

With a violent shake of his head, he tosses away his now empty bag of jerky in the trashcan by the gas station front door, and a pamphlet in the window catches his eyes when he steps away. He freezes and turns back, his mind spinning. While he isn't a fan of pamphlets, he may get some inspiration from it. His eyes pass quickly over them, only lingering on them for a second. Buck, biting his lip, pauses on one, though he isn't sure why this specific one catches his attention, as there are four rows of pamphlets. Each shows a different outdoor scene. However, the number 66 jumps at him.

He fingers the top of the pamphlet, his eyes glued to the curvy cartoon road on the cover. Though he hasn't taken it from the rack, he stares down the centerfold, some of the attractions popping out to him, and in that instant, his path becomes clear. Instead of picking a single location, he decides to drive Route 66, the famous highway, to the end of the line. Or rather, to the beginning of the line since he's starting at the end. While he's working with limited funds, driving this historic road might bankrupt him, but it gives some peace of mind as it gives him something to focus on.

With his phone cracked, he buys a cheap flip phone, a US State map, and additional snacks for the road and heads back to his Jeep. At the driver's side door, he glances over his shoulder in the direction of Los Angeles one last time. Though the city is no longer visible, he lets out a deep dry sob, which shakes him to the core and paralyzes him for a moment. His very breath is stolen from his lungs, his chest struggling to expand. Tears threaten to fall, and it takes everything in him to suppress the shudders that tremble through him.

"Stop this," he hisses at himself. His former ex-friends/family do not deserve his sadness or his pain. "Stop this." Not allowing himself to second guess himself anymore, he jumps into the vehicle, tosses his bags onto the passenger seat, and takes off down the road, his foot pressed to the floor.

*O*O*

It's late in the day when Buck arrives at the Grand Canyon, the sun beginning to set. After arguing with himself that he can't sleep in his car in the middle of the desert, he stays at the cheapest hotel in the area with plans to visit the Grand Canyon in the morning. Buck sighs as he stands at the front of the bed, refusing to put too much thought into the hotel beds. Eyes closed, he lets gravity take over and falls backward into the crappy bed. He could not get comfortable no matter what he does, but he doesn't get up. He squeezes his eyes shut.

As soon as the sun's rays break into the room and strike his face, Buck is up—not that he got a restful sleep due to nightmares— and is ready to go. There's a smile on his face, though he's unhappy. Just put one front in front of the other. Though the food may not be the tastiest, he loads up on the free breakfast, stuffing it into his mouth, and heads to his jeep. Without another traitorous thought, he makes his way to the Grand Canyon, the main tourist entrance.

Thanks to the early hour, Buck's one of the first people there, which he is eternally grateful for. Being alone at a hot tourist attraction draws too much attention, and he doesn't have the energy to deal with people. Ignoring the stares, he walks one of the trails—beginner level one, he isn't stupid— for an hour before he finds a rock and sits. For the next few minutes, he, eyes burning, simply stared off into the canyon. It's peaceful, the wide-open view, and for a second, he forgets the rage and sorrow that boils inside of him, but reality comes crashing back when the wind slaps him and before he realizes what he's doing, he's screaming. Not a soft scream, but a full-blown scream at the top of his lungs. His pained scream echoes back at him like an injured, raging bull in a bullfight. No words are needed, his screams say it all. It has all of his anger, all of his frustration, all of his pain, and all of his fears. It's all there for everyone to see. While there's a chance he has an audience, he doesn't care. If there is, at least someone will notice his pain for once.

His voice hoarse by the time he stops, Buck sluggishly gets to his feet and walks back up the trail. He notices an older couple on his way up, and when he walks by, he knows they heard him when the husband gives him a pointed stare, but he merely smiles. His throat drying for a drink, he heads to the overpriced gift shop for a bottle of water, but the post cards by the registers catch his eyes, and he freezes. Maddie pops up in his mind.

God, he misses Maddie.

While he hasn't already been super close with Maddie, they have gotten close in the last year and a half, and this—whatever this is— is killing him. But telling her wasn't—isn't an option. She doesn't understand what the 118 means- meant to him, what Eddie means- meant to him. Then there's her relationship with Chimney, and he doesn't want to ruin it for her, especially after f*cken Doug. So no, he can't tell her. He can't burden her with the truth.

But God, he misses her.

Bucks, glum, remembers all of the post cards he had sent her in the past. When he couldn't talk to her, those postcards were an olive branch, a lifeline. While she never responded to him, it gave him peace of mind when he sent them. f*ck it, he curses in his head and grabs one, though he has no idea what he's going to write on it.

*O*O*

Present

Buckley, in uniform, is on the apparatus floor by the time Kelly rolls into the Fire house and already has his hand on Truck 51's saws and tools, which are laid out in front him by size. On the smallest saw, Buckley has the blade off, performing a standard maintenance, and once again, Kelly is amazed by his diligence. Also, how early did this man get here? It looks like he has been here for at least an hour. No! Kelly shakes his head, knocking that thought out of his head. The Floater is the floater and not his business.

Kelly heads to the locker room and waves passing helloes to those around him. Seeing most of the second shift already in uniform, he knows he's one of the last ones to roll in, though still early. He blames the night before for being one of the last ones in, but that's a story for another day. In the locker room, Herrmann and Mouch, who are in the process of getting dressed, chat away, hands waving in the air.

"Severide," Herrmann greets when he sees him.

"Mouch, Herrmann," Kelly greets with the nod of his head on his way to his locker. The two go back to lively chatting—the topic unknown, though Kelly can figure it out if he wants. He doesn't want to. Yet, he stares at them for a moment, observing their friendship, before his eyes drop to his pad lock. His traitorous mind wandering against his will, he fumbles over the dial, the metal cold to the touch. The conversion from a few days ago floats to the forefront of his mind. His sweaty fingers feel like sausages as he fails to enter his combination, Buckley's face in his mind's eyes. He drops the lock a few times before he lets out a heavy sigh. He might as well say what is on his mind. "So, I see Buckley is already hard at work, doing a morning check on the tools and topping off the gas in the saws." He speaks, shaking his hand for a second. What is wrong with me?

Herrmann glances up and hums. "That guy is efficient." He says it as an afterthought before he turns back to Mouch.

"Ritter, better step it up." Mouch laughs.

"I don't know how I feel about a Ritter/Buckley showoff." Herrmann hums. "You think I can charge for that?"

Kelly shakes his head off as Herrmann and Mouch jokingly plan it out. After the third attempt, he is able to unlock his lock and open his locker. By the time Kelly pulls his Lieutenant polo over his head, Mouch and Herrmann are gone, leaving him to his thoughts.

*O*O*

After a light breakfast, Kelly settles in at the squad table and attempts to read today's newspaper, preferring the paper under his fingers than a cold tablet. Attempts is the keyword, because his eyes keep drifting up without his permission and toward Buckley every few seconds. In his tight shirt—why is Buckley's shirt so tight? Especially around the arms?-, Kelly isn't the only one eyeing the Floater. Foster has been eyeing him as well, chatting away with Brett and Kidd. Kelly has no idea what they are chatting about, but they are laughing, peeping up at the Floater.

A few minutes later, Ritter appears, a waffle between his lips. Herrmann must've said something as Ritter joins Buckley in the trenches. Kelly isn't sure if Casey had ordered Gallo as well, but Gallo is right there next to them, chatting away as he checks Engine 81 gear. Buckley, silent as always, is not adding to the conversion, but he keeps glancing up, following them with his eyes. Even from the squad table, Kelly can see something simmering under the surface.

Stop it. Kelly shakes his head and turns his attention to the rest of squad 3. Capp and Ferraris are checking their gear, while Cruz messes around with another one of his inventions, a follow-up to his Slamigan. Kelly, unable to sit still, pushes up to his feet and loudly announces, "Drills. Get up."

All three heads pop up and nod. "Yes, Lieutenant."

A sharp, playful laugh cut across the apparatus floor, drawing Kelly's attention. This house isn't known to be quiet, but it surprises him at times. He glances over his shoulder toward Buckley, Gallo and Ritter. Gallo wraps an arm Ritter, who dramatically rolls his eyes, and shakes. Buckley's face is strained, not in anger; rather, he is struggling to hold his neutral expression. It almost looks painful.

"You okay, Severide?" Capp asks, noticing his Lieutenant go stiff.

Shaking his head, Kelly replies, "Yea, now get off your butts."

*O*O*

A stopwatch in hand, Kelly runs his team fully geared through an obstacle course. No one's skills on Squad are lacking, but there's no denying Cruz's abilities and drive as he currently holds the best time. In true Joe Cruz fashion, he's gloating over it with some goddy dance movies. "Keep it tight," he yells as Ferraris pulls a dummy through a 'window' which is just a wooden frame made from two by fours. "Good," he shouts when Ferraris drags the dummy across the 'finish time'. "Time."

Ferraris, his heart pounding and sweat pouring down his face, drops to his knees and rips his mask off. "Time?"

Kelly grins and holds up his top watch as if Ferraris can read it. "Sorry, Tony. Cruz still has it." Cruz does a little happy dance in the background.

Capp shots Cruz a playful dirty look and steps forward. "Let me try again."

"Won't beat me," Cruz teases, pointing a sharp finger at Capp.

"Want to bet?"

Cruz takes a side step toward Capp, his eyebrow raised. "What you got?"

With a soft sigh, Kelly rolls his eyes as Capp, Ferraris and Cruz start to egg each other off, throwing out insane bets. While he won't change his team for anything, he can't help but wonder how he got these goofballs. Unable to take this over-the-top playfulness, he shifts away from them, and his eyes drift toward the apparatus floor. Kelly has to do a double take. Unexpectedly, Buckley is standing in front of the hangar bay doors, watching them run the drill. The Floater goes a deep red when Kelly and he lock eyes. Kelly smiles and waves. Buckley, his entire body stiff, bashfully returns the wave before suddenly turning away. Robot-like, Buckley awkwardly disappears behind a truck, though not before bumping into the truck twice. His eyes get larger with each clumsily step, and once more, Kelly is confused by the shyness and timidness. A man who looks like that has no right to be so bashful.

"Earth to Severide."

"What?"

"Severide."

Hearing his name, Kelly snaps back to his team. "Yea?"

Cruz narrows his eyes and follows Kelly's stare before his smile returns. "I think it's your turn," he replies as he snatches the stopwatch out of Kelly's hand and backs out of reach.

Kelly nails them each with a mischievous look. "Oh? You think you can order me around?! What do I get out of this?" he asks, his smile huge.

Before any of them can respond, the bell rings. "Ambulance 61, Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3. Factory Fire." Everything else is pushed to the side and forgotten as everyone dashing back to the trucks.

*O*O*

If Kelly could give this fire an emotion, he would call it angry, pissed someone dared to save its hostages trapped within. The flames roar up in protest when the team cut a hole in the roof, limiting the time to rescue those stuck inside. From his years of experience, when the smoke turns dark, Kelly knows they only have a few minutes before the building goes up, cooking everyone inside regardless of gear. Casey, after a stern warning, orders Squad 3 to check the offices quickly, having been instructed by the Floor Manager, via Boden, that two office workers, an accountant and secretary, are unaccounted for in addition to the four factory workers.

"Capp, Ferraris, door," Kelly orders, pointing to a door at the end of the hall. The two nod and make their way past Cruz and him to the far door. "Cruz, door." He points to the door in front of them.

Cruz nods, and with his Slamigan, he forces the door open. "Fire department, call out." He yells when the door falls off its hinges. Sweat is pouring down his face, the heat unbearable.

Kelly scans the room quickly, straining his eyes. The flicker of the flame drowns everything out, consuming everything it touches. "There!" he hisses, spotting movement in the far corner. They, their heart thumping, rush over, clearing the debris as they go. Cruz heaves the chairs out of his way, while Kelly shoves the desk aside. When they reach the man, they quickly take note of his injuries, ensuring he hasn't been impaled, before they clear the hot rubble from him. The fallen ceiling tile breaks apart in their hands, the wood beams snapping. "sh*t," Kelly curses, spotting the heavy metal beam laying across the man and pinning him to the ground.

"Lieutenant." Cruz calls. Having put down his Slamigan, he drags over a long pole, and without another word, he puts one end under the beam and pushes down on his end, Kelly jumping in behind him. The beam laying across the man shakes as it slowly inches up.

Capp and Ferraris filter back into the room, the sounds of their returns masked by the roaring fire. "The other room is clear," Capp yells. They cut through the room quickly, their eyes on the downed man. Without needing to be ordered, the two grab the man by the armpits and nod when ready. After one big push from Kelly and Cruz, the beam jumps and creates several more inches of clearance for Capp and Ferraris to pull. The man doesn't budge at first, a hint of panic surges. With each passing second, the ash in the air grows and the flames intensify. Time running out, Kelly and Cruz put all of their weight onto the beam, and luckily, it's enough. Capp and Ferraris tug again, and this time, the man moves.

Kelly let out a sigh of relief and released his grip on the pole. "Get him out of here." Capp and Ferraris nod, as they maneuver the unconscious man between them, each grabbing an arm and wrapping it around their neck. Kelly grabs his radio and says, "We searched the offices and only found one office worker."

The radio wails for a second, the lack of response worrisome. "I think we found the missing office worker," Casey, out of breath, finally replies over the radio.

"Good, everyone out now." Boden demands.

"Understood," Severide answers, his eyes meeting Cruz, who bends down to pick up his Slamigan. Without another word, they head to the door, his eyes still scanning as they go just in case.

"Does anyone have eyes on Buckley," Herrmann's frustrated voice comes over the comms a minute later.

Kelly freezes and exchanges looks with Cruz. "No." he replies.

"No." Casey replies, followed by a round of no.

Boden huffs into the radio. "Buckley, respond." Radio, met with dead air, wails for the second time. The next 30 seconds feels like 30 minutes. "Buckley." He calls again.

Kelly pats Cruz on the shoulder and gives him a head nod. No words are needed: We are going after him. There is no way in hell they are leaving a man. "Where was the last time you saw him," he asks.

"He was right behind me on the hose." Herrmann replies.

"Buckley, answer Damnit." Boden curses. The smoke is heavy, growing thicker with each passing second, and the visibility will be gone in the next 2 minutes. When that happens, a flare up is inevitable, and they don't have time to stand around and wait for Buckley to respond.

"I'm h-here," comes Buckley's shaky voice.

Kelly lets out the breath he doesn't know he's holding, though it's short lived. Buckley's pass alarm rings over the radio. "Where are you, Buckley?"

Buckley's breathing is labor, and every word feels like a battle. "Northwest end." He coughs loudly.

"What are you doing over there, Kid?" Herrmann shots out, concern laced in his voice

Again, there is a lag between responses. "T-there is a kid. 6ish," Buckley replies. Kelly doesn't have eyes on the Floater, but he knows something is wrong.

"Are you sure, Buckley?" Boden asks. A bit of doubt in the voice. This is one of the last places they expect a young child.

Buckley violently coughs. "I'm looking at him."

"Can you get out on your own power?"

For the third time, the radio goes silent, and it takes longer for a verbal response. The only thing coming over the radio is Buckley's labored, strenuous breathing. "The floor caved."

That is all Kelly needs to hear. "Cruz and I are almost there." The radio becomes background noise to Lieutenant, his focus on Buckley. "Just hold on."

*O*O*

The heat is excruciating, but Cruz and Kelly do not turn back. A layer of sweat covers their skin by the time they make it to Buckley, which they do in record time. It's like someone has pumped pure energy into his blood, but it vanishes when he spots Buckley dangling from a hole in the ground, his helmet and SCBA gone—the air tank still on his back.

Both dash to him, but when Buckley spots Severide and Cruz, he, concern lacing his expression, shakes his head. "The Kid," he croaks, his eyes on the table two feet from him. He struggles to keep his grip, his fingers digging into the floorboards. "The B-boy."

Cruz spots the boy hiding beneath the table, Buckley's SCBA on his face, and makes a dash to him. Kelly drops to the ground and slides to a stop in front of Buckley, who is fighting a losing battle. His grip is slipping. "I got you," he yells, as he reaches down and grabs the Floater by his turnover gear, clutching fist full of his coat. Kelly, the veins popping out in his neck, holds Buckley, giving him time to readjust his grip. Their eyes meet, a silent 'are you already' hangs in the air. Buckley, relief in his eyes, nods, and pushes up when Severide pulls up.

It takes two deep breaths to pull Buckley up, and at first, Kelly doesn't release his hold on the Floater, his eyes glued to the blood smears on his cheeks. It takes Buckley gaging to snap Kelly out of it. Hearing his breath labored and shadowed, Kelly rips off his own SCBA and places his mask onto Buckley, who struggles under Kelly's grip and attempts to push off his mask. Being without clean air for several minutes, he can't fight off Kelly, who holds the mask tightly to his face. Using his free hand, he presses the button on his radio. "We got Buckley and the kid." He says, the air toxic and ashy.

"Good, now get out of here." Boden orders.

Kelly isn't sure how Buckley lasted as long as he did. "On it."

After a bit of shifting, Buckley's own SCBA is back on his face and Kelly's on his own. Cruz holds the boy to his chest, burying the boy's face into his coat. Kelly hooks an arm around Buckley to keep him up and his other hand is wrapped around the Slamigan. It's semi awkward with Buckley's bulky form, but once Buckley settles down, they sync up, their steps in unison. Halfway back to the entrance, Buckley roughly pulls away from Kelly, who doesn't fight, and exits the building on his own power.

The sun is bright, blinding them when they step out of the pitch-black factory, and it takes several seconds to adjust to the intense light. In that time, Foster and Brett had taken the boy from Cruz and rushed him back to the ambulance. Buckley, his breathing heavy, rips his mask from his face and almost doubles over, each breath painful. "You okay?" Kelly asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. Buckley peeps up at his hand, his expression unreadable. Kelly quickly pulls back his hand. "Buckley."

The Floater glances up. "I-"

"My son! My son!" The Floor Manager, panicked, yells as he sprints to the boy. "Is he okay?" he asks. Brett answers him, her response muted by the sound of raging water bursting from the hoses. Both Kelly and Buckley can feel the cold spray of water on their faces when they make their way to the trucks.

"You two okay?" Casey asks when he spots them. His eyes are the blood smear on Buckley's face.

"Yea." Kelly pauses. "What's up with that?" Kelly asks, nodding to the Floor Manager, who's pulling his hair as he climbs into the Ambulance.

"He forgot his wife dropped the kid off. He panicked when he heard Buckley found the kid." Casey answers, offhandedly. Casey's full attention is on the Floater. "You okay, Buckley?"

"Yes, Captain." Buckley replies, standing straight. His breathing, though still heavy, is no longer shallow, and, yet, Kelly can't help but wonder how much of this is a show.

Seeing no physical injury and not having the same concerns as Kelly, Casey orders. "Get back to Herrmann."

"Yes, Sir." Buckley jogs over to Engine 51.

Casey, as if he has medical training, is now giving Kelly a once over. With a hand out for Kelly to grab, he says, "Let's put this fire out."

Kelly grabs it and shakes. "Let's do it."

*O*O*

Two hours go bye before they are back at the firehouse, and each is covered in a layer of ash and sweat. Cruz mutters about jumping right into the shower and staying there for an hour. Kelly would agree, but if he doesn't do the paperwork now, it'll drive him crazy and be torturous later, especially when all he wants to do is sleep. Years on the job, he has learned the sooner he gets the paperwork done, the better.

"Buckley," Brett, on a mission, calls loudly. There is no dodging Sylvie Brett when she has that look in his eyes.

Said man freezes in mid action of hanging his turnover coat. Buckley, looking like a damn Puppy, meets her stare. "Yes?" he asks, hesitation in his voice. Kelly watches from across the room as Brett, in a move that is pure Shay, crosses the apparatus floor, a stride in her step, and grabs Buckley by the arm. Buckley flinches on contract, but Brett doesn't let go and pulls him toward the Ambo. "What's going on?" His voice shaky.

"Just want to check you over," Brett says firmly but sweetly, her eyes dropping to the wound on his elbow that was hidden by his coat. Buckley, with damn puppy dog eyes, looks like he wants to argue but he zips his lips when he spots Brett's hard expression.

"Smart," Cruz replies from behind Kelly. "Fighting Sylvie never ends well." He chucks as he walks away, enjoying the fact that Brett has zeroed her attention to someone else.

Kelly watches Brett fuss over Buckley for a movement before he forces his gaze away and heads to his office. Besides dealing with paperwork, he needs time to process the image of Buckley hanging in a hole and the odd sensation under his skin from seeing it.

*O*O*

Paperwork, showers, two car accidents later, everyone is tired, grumpy and hungry. By group consensus, they decide to order takeout, and by some act of God, it's there 45 minutes later. No one waits for grace and forms a line, digging in… well with the exception of Buckley who is missing. Kelly hasn't seen the man since Brett has dragged him away for a once over. Brett deemed him fine with the exception of two cuts and let him go. Knowing the Floater, he is probably cleaning as that kid can't sit down and rest. Kelly barely—if at all—knows this man, but he knows this much: if you want Buckley to sit down, you will need to tie him down.

"I want to know how a man could forget about his kid." Herrmann utters, as he takes a seat at the table with his plate of food. "Oops, Honey, I forgot our kid in a fire."

"Well, he won't be alive long to figure it out." Foster interjects.

Brett lets out a laughing huff. "I kinda felt for him. His wife is totally killing him once they're home."

"Only this much though." Foster holds up her hand, using her thumb and index finger to mimic an inch.

"And to think the kid would be dead if Buckley hadn't spotted him." Cruz states before stuffing his face with pizza.

At hearing Buckley's name, Mouch glances around the room. "Where is Buckley?"

Several look up and glance around the room, their eyes staring down hallways and through windows. "I think I saw him outside," Stella answers first.

Gallo takes a comical whiff of Ritter, who leans away. "What are you doing?" Ritters asks, his voice high pitched at the end.

"I just want to know if we smell." Gallo replies with a shrug. Ritter gives him a wild, questioning gaze as he shoves Gallo away. Gallo, face fallen, looks like Ritter has slapped him. "What?! Why else would Buckley-"

"It couldn't possibly be because you two are smelling each other?" Casey interrupts, shooting them both a concerned gaze. The room breaks out into laughter, which drowns out Ritter's rebuttals. 'I didn't smell anyone!' Casey, though he hadn't been a part of Kelly's conversion at the bar, knows enough to guess why Buckley skips out of family dinner, and unlike some, he isn't going to force Buckley to join them.

"I don't think we need to smell each other to know we, firefighters, smell." Kelly offers as he gathers up a plate, though it isn't for him. He has no idea why he has the urge to make sure Buckley eats.

"Speak for yourself," Stella exclaims, joining Brett and Foster at the table. "I don't smell." Everyone laughs once as a group before they break into smaller conversations with their neighbors.

With a full plate in hand—ignoring any pointed looks directed at him-, Kelly walks out, heading toward the driveway. It doesn't take long for the Lieutenant to notice the hunched over figure at the end driveway. Buckley's back toward the station, he watches the cars drive by one by one. Kelly pauses for a second, his eyes on the tension in Buckley's shoulder. It's like he's holding the weight of the world on his shoulder, and for a second, he ponders what thoughts haunt Buckley's mind before he chastises himself. Whatever Buckley's issue, it isn't his business. And yet, you have a plate in your hand, his mind whispers to him. Payment for feeding me.

Food for Buckley, Kelly's brain freezes on. He lingers for a second, wondering if he should just eat the plate himself, before the image of Buckley from earlier flashes before his eyes: a coughing Buckley struggling to keep himself from falling. The concerned, scared look will stick with Kelly for a while. Regardless of whatever he is feeling, he will not leave a fellow firefighter—a brother—alone in his grief. He shakes his head and forces one foot forward until he is next to Buckley, who is lost in his own head.

"Hey," Kelly greets. Immediately, Buckley, shoulders going stiff, winces and leaps literally two inches in the air. "Sorry. I can't seem to not startle you." he adds a small chuckle. How many times does this one make? He has lost count, but he will add one tally to the heart attack column.

"Lieutenant!" Buckley's large eyes drill into him, his shoulders relaxing. "I didn't see you there."

"Foods here," he comments, ignoring the palpable nervousness in the air.

Buckley's eyes drop to the plate. "Yea, I saw the delivery driver."

"And you didn't come in?" What are you doing, Severide? The Floater doesn't answer and redirects his attention back to the road. Okay? "Here." He says, holding out the plate.

Once more, Buckley is a deer in headlights. "What?"

Kelly is struck by the magnitude of emotions on Buckley's face. He's an abused puppy who is receiving love and care for the first time. "I got you a plate."

"You didn't have to."

"You didn't have to cook me eggs." Kelly shoots back with a huge smile.

Buckley's expression goes blank as if he's trying to think of a comeback. After a few long silent seconds, he finally settles on "Okay," as he takes the plate from Kelly. He stares at the pizza and salad for a moment before he stabs the salad with his fork.

Kelly hesitates for a second, eyeing the small twitches in Buckley's face as he brings a fork to his lips and takes a bite. "You don't have to eat out here. More than welcome to join us inside."

"I'm good." His expression falls. "Thanks for this." He nods at the plate.

Silence falls as Buckley awkwardly eats in front of him. Kelly fights the urge to sit down next to him and provide him company. It feels like Buckley could use a friend. "Okay, I'm going to get myself food before my stomach revolts."

"K."

Kelly takes a deep breath. "Unless you want some company." The words roll out of his mouth before he can process them.

Buckley, a heavy redness in his cheeks, glances at Kelly from the corner of his eyes. There's a struggle in his eyes before he goes, "No."

Kelly, stunned, tries not to take that personally. Though, he can't deny that the limited responses bug the crap out of him, but he leaves it at that and turns away. "If you change your mind, feel free to join us," he replies before heading back to the kitchen for his own plate. He feels Buckley's eyes boring into his back, and though he isn't sure why, he peeps over his shoulder. Their eyes only meet for a second before Buckley's head snaps forward, his eyes fixated on the road. Kelly has never met someone he can't read, which frustrates him to no end.

With a deep breath, the Lieutenant turns back to the firehouse, his hard expression slipping from his face, as he notices Casey, arms folded across his chest, standing at the bay doors. There's a knowing but inquisitive stare on Casey's face, the kind of stare that sends a chill down Kelly's back. How could a stare cut so deep? "Matt," he greets when he gets within a foot of him.

"I have never known Kelly Severide to bring food to someone he isn't sleeping with." Casey replies, matter-of-factly. He is too smug about it.

Kelly's chest tightens, which he doesn't know what to do with. "Just repaying the favor."

"What favor?" Casey's eyebrow rises.

There's no way to describe what Kelly is feeling. He can only call it odd. "He just…" He starts, his brain failing him. Why is he so embarrassed to admit the truth? What is the truth? They had eggs. It isn't anything to hide. "Just a late-night bite together on shift. Nothing too special."

Casey stares. "The point still stands."

Kelly puffs out his chest and narrows his eyes. "I don't know. I think I brought you food once or twice, and I know I had never slept with you." He, with a smirk across his face, playfully punches Matt in the shoulder as he walks past him.

Rolling his eyes, Casey follows. "Yea, but you wanted something then."

"And what do I want from Buckley?" Kelly asks, turning and nailing his best Friend with a grilling stare.

"I don't know, which is why I am asking."

Kelly lets out a loud, vocal huff, not giving Casey a response, as he crosses back into the kitchen. The questioning stares of his fellow firefighters fall to the background as he picks up a slice of pizza and stuffs it into his mouth. If he's being honest with himself, he can admit that he's avoiding Casey's questions because he doesn't know how to answer. Kelly Severide has never been good with emotions and would rather stuff them deep down inside of him. Being remotely honest sends a chill down his chest. So for now, he will just eat his damn pizza and ignore the Floater for the rest of the shift. Buckley will be gone in less than 12 hours, and he won't have to deal with whatever crap he is feeling.

But yet, it doesn't take long before his mind goes back to Buckley and that sad, scared expression on his face.

Damn, Evan Buckley.

Chapter 4: A change of Heart

Chapter Text

Chapter 4:

A change of Heart

Several days pass before Buck works up the nerve to send the first postcard. His brain goes to war with itself for the first day, as he struggles to find the right words. Every time he thinks he got it, something else comes to his mind. Honestly, there're so many things he wants to say, while at the same time too scared to say. In the end, he settles on 'Hey Mads, I'm fine. Just need time. Love you, Evan.' It isn't the truth, but it's the closest to truth he's willing to admit. He does need time and he does love her, but he is not fine. Evan isn't sure he would ever be fine again. Stop it. Buck yells at himself. He refuses to allow himself to go down that road and throw himself a pity party. Only smiles allowed on this trip. Maybe it won't be a lie after a while.

The next post card he picks up on Route 66 is at the Blue Hole in New Mexico. After pocketing it in his back pocket, he stares down at the deep blue water. At first, he's satisfied staring at it, but there's a group of scuba divers at the edge of the water, and after a passing comment to the group regarding his scuba certifications, Buck somehow gets invited to go with them. While wanting to be left alone, his first gut reaction is to decline, but something in him, the part of him that wants human companionship, is screaming, and unable to ignore it, he agrees rather loudly and awkwardly. While he doesn't go into the underwater caves—he doesn't have a death wish-, he finally feels free. He feels weightless. God, he needs this, and he stays under as long as his air tank allows.

The third postcard is from the Cadillac Ranch in Texas. Under the intense heat, he, with a can of spray paint in one hand, runs his fingers along each car, putting to memory the artwork and adding his own spin to them. While some may not understand the beauty behind them, Buck is fascinated by it. He could stare for hours, but he doesn't. With a layer of sweat lining his skin and red, burnt skin from the sweltering sun, he leaves. Granted, he doesn't stay long in Texas all over, even if there're other places on route 66 to see. The very state makes him think of Eddie, which is a no go for him. The very thought of Eddie makes his knees weak, and the cruel insults he would rather forget fill his head. In an attempt to escape those ghosts, he steps on the gas and breaks some laws getting out of Texas faster.

It isn't until the Blue Whale in Catoosa, Oklahoma that Buck is free from the memories of the man he used to call his best friend. However, any lingering thought of Eddie will bring those feelings back in full force. Nevertheless, he stays on route 66, whose attractions fascinate him, and for some reason, Buck loves the Blue Whale. Maybe, it's because of the romantic story behind it: a surprise anniversary gift from a husband to his wife. Maybe, it's the hopeless romantic in him and the idea of having someone love you that much to gift you a blue whale they crafted himself makes Buck a little loopy…

Oddly, it makes him a little homesick. He misses his former life. Misses Maddie most of all. The intense nostalgia prompts him into sending the postcards he collected to Maddie. He doesn't write much on the back of these cards, only noting that he's enjoying his time on the road. He isn't sure what the 118 told her about what happened, but he isn't going to tell her, especially not through postcards. He also doesn't reveal that he isn't coming back; instead, on the Blue Whale postcard, he tells her the story of Zelta and Huge Davis.

After mailing the postcards, he leaves Oklahoma and continues on to St. Louis, Missouri. For the first few hours, he simply drives around the city, which is quite different from the other stops along route 66, and Buck engrosses himself in it. He misses the feel and culture of a large city, and he buries himself in it. Unable to pull himself away, he spends a week here, finding all of the hot spots. He spends several nights at clubs, his tongue down more throats than he can count. Men, women, he doesn't discrimination. There're a few invitations to go back to their place: though for now, Buck shakes them off. He just loses himself in the music and alcohol. God, it feels amazing.

On the third day, a super hungover Buck visits the Gateway Arch, wobbling, walking it end to end, and, even in his haze, can't help but wonder about its designer. He makes a mental note of researching it later. For now, he visits the nearby tourist stand and eyes the postcards. Unable to decide which one he wants, he grabs three different ones. On the third one, he makes a goofy comment about how he couldn't choose. 'Isn't that just like me?' It's meant as a joke, but the joke triggers something deep within him and he spends the last night there drinking far too much at a busy bar. Unlike the other nights, he goes home with a nameless brunette. He can't tell you her name, which he feels guilty about when he tips toes out of her apartment the next morning, but the guilt is overshadowed by the 'normalcy' it brings him, though only for a second. Everything comes rushing back, his past, his sex addition, scares the crap out of him. It would be so easy to fall back into that addiction.

That fear drives Buck out of St. Louis, and he doesn't stop until he finds himself at the Meramec Caverns in Stanton, Missouri. He, his mind still in a fog, joins a tour group and collects another postcard, one this time, before he mechanically continues his drive on Route 66 to the Gemini Giant in Wilmington, Illinois. Maybe, it's that one-night stand from a few days prior, but he feels heavy in his skin and standing in front of the Gemini Giant makes him itch. He stays long enough to collect a postcard and drop it in the next mail box with a simple and quick 'Look at this guy.'

His head against the headrest, he sits in his Jeep for hours, feeling like a complete fool. It hits him like a pound of bricks, as he wonders how he could be so stupid. He knows the signs, knows this feeling all too well, but he hasn't been this empty before. The sex addict in him is screaming for it, for that intimacy, but he knows if he gives in, he will be gone and there will be no return. To be honest, that scares him. While he is currently aimless, he doesn't want to be that person again. With a deep breath and shaky hands, he straightens up, turns the ignition key, and takes off down the road.

*O*O*

Present

The next week passes in a flash, and like Kelly expected, Buckley becomes a distant memory, only coming to mind once or twice. It's both sad and welcomed at the same time, and it reassures Kelly that Buckley will become a fading thought in a couple weeks. While the question of why he's intrigued by Buckley still hangs in the air, he's happy to have life return to normal, and soon that question will be gone. However, his life would be so much better now if the rain would stop. It's pouring, which makes everything harder- including their jobs-, as the number of car accidents seem to double in the rain.

"Oh, joy," he mutters as the rain droplets strike his car like small stones. With the visibility cut in half, today is going to suck especially as the rain doesn't appear to be stopping any time soon. With a deep breath, he pushes the door open and leaps out, water hitting him immediately. He slams—while silently apologizing to his car—the door closes and makes a beeline to the station. Regrettably, Kelly is drenched when he steps into the building. While he doesn't care how he looks at work, he's a soggy rat. Not one ounce of him is dry, including his ass. "Today is going to be the best day." He mockingly complains to himself.

"Looking good, Severide." Casey yells out. He, a clipboard in his hands and a cheeky smile on his face, appears out from behind a truck.

Kelly rips off his wet jack and twists it to wring out the water. A small puddle forms beneath him. "Don't be jealous," he shoots back, whips his jacket at him like a wet towel.

"What do I have to be jealous of?" Casey teases as he eyes the flying jacket.

Kelly laughs while he throws his jacket over the closest chair and turns his attention to his shirt. Squeezing out the water from the bottom of his shirt, he jokes, "Do I need to make a list?" He, to shake off the large, excess water droplets from his hair, shakes his head as he makes his way to the locker room without waiting for a response. Left behind by each step are wet footprints, which sparkle under the lights.

He pauses at the doorway when he hears Casey, with mocking/know it all tone, call, "Hey, Herrmann."

Said man perks up his head, a confused stare in his eyes, and makes his way over. "Yes?" Herrmann asks slowly.

"Me or Severide?" Casey solicits without providing any details or explanation. The only clue is his Chester cat smile.

Eyes bouncing between them, Herrmann opens and closes his mouth a few times before letting out a chuckle. "Do I even want to know?"

"Just answer, Herrmann." Casey orders with a smile

Before either Herrmann could grunt out an answer, Boden, a bit disheveled, appears and yells. "Severide." He stretches out his Lieutenant's name, noticing the water puddle behind him. An unasked question hangs in the air for a moment. Shaking his head, he adds, "My office… After you get into something dry."

"Yes, Chief." The wind howls, drawing everyone's attention. Oh, this shift is going to be fun. Kelly can already feel it. Granted, that could be his wet ass talking, and nothing feels right when his ass is wet.

*O*O*

Though his hair's still damp, Kelly feels a million times better after he peels off his wet clothes and steps into a dry set. While it's still gushing, the day is already better. Kelly, a towel around his neck, spots a few more wet heads along the floor, as he, unconsciously, scans the rooms on his way to Boden's office. He isn't the only victim of the storm. When he finally makes it his destination, Kelly knocks on the glass of Boden's office door and probes himself, "Yea, Chief?"

Boden looks up from desk and waves Kelly in. "Come in."

Involuntarily, Kelly's eyes go to the window for a moment, watching the rainwater cascade down the glass before he focuses on his Chief. "You called," he states, crossing to the back of one of the chairs facing Boden.

Boden glances up from his files, eyeing the damp towel around Kelly's neck before meeting his eyes. "Ferraris has a family emergency and will be out for the next few shifts." he replies, before returning to the files. He flips through them - personal files from the look of them.

Kelly, his eyes on the photos on the corner of each folder, squeezes the back of the chair. "How many shifts?" he asks. If it's one shift, Squad could deal, and he won't worry about bringing in a floater. Even with two shifts, he could make it work. He hates dealing with floaters… especially a certain one.

"We'll have to play it by ear." Boden answers. "But I've already called in a floater."

If he has to have a floater, Kelly would rather pick his own floater to ensure they're up to the task. "Who?" He questions, his mind spinning. With a few squad trained floaters, the pool to choose from is limited. "I didn't see any floater out there."

Boden, turning to the computer on his desk, doesn't answer right away. There's a slight annoyance in his typing, as he is unable to locate the documentation he needs. "We had to change a few floaters around, so the Squad qualified floater is coming from across town. He should be here by 9am."

Kelly nods, not worried unless it's someone he doesn't like. "So who are we getting?" he asks, curious. While Squad Floaters are a different story, there're a few he avoids, mostly due to personality clashes. While he does have an impressive record, he can admit that he doesn't have the most charming personality and he clashes with people.

"Evan Buckley." Boden replies.

The world glitches for Kelly for a moment. "What?" he utters, though unsure of how he even formed the word. Boden, his surroundings, disappears, his mind on the fritz. Every brainwave errors on the thoughts of Evan Buckley, a man who just baffles him. He tries to right his world by telling himself that Buckley is just a Floater… a floater who doesn't seem to disappear. Isn't that the point of Floaters? To disappear? How does he keep getting floating spots at this firehouse? Is Kelly cursed? Isn't there a more important question? Like why does it matter? He asks himself. Instead, images fill his head. Like the fact that Buckley will be serving under him. Kelly will be able to boss him around. What? Why is he so hot and bothered by Buckley? Wait, what? No, he is not hot and bothered by the Floater. He is-

"Severide?" Boden asks, noticing the stiffness in his lieutenant. "Are you okay with Buckley?"

Everything snaps back, and Boden's form sharpens. "As long as he is squad certified." Kelly replies, feeling uneasy. The only issues are the issues in Kelly's own head, where they are going to stay. He is not going to ruin someone's reputation because he can't get it together.

*O*O*

As soon as Kelly leaves Boden's office, he makes a promise to himself that Buckley is just a floater and nothing more. He is going to keep Buckley at arm's length and pair him up with Cruz. Let Cruz deal with him. Kelly is going to pretend he isn't there, going to keep his eyes solely on whatever is in his hands. He's going to keep busy, even if he has to clean the damn firehouse or offer to do Casey's paperwork. He will do whatever it takes not to be next to Evan Buckley for long periods of time. While he ignores the silliness of it, a sense of relief floods Kelly when he settles on this plan. It gives him something to focus on, and whatever he's feeling can be left forgotten in a corner of his mind. He can focus on the day. His pre-Buckley days.

However, that plan, that strategy, flies out the window when he lays eyes on the Floater 28 minutes later. The damn Floater. Evan Buckley steps into the firehouse, soaked to his bones, his hair weighed down lying flat against his skin. His clothes, water collecting at the edges, are pressed against his body like a second skin, showing every line and curve on his body. His shoes swash with each step, water puddling beneath his feet. Buckley looks like a sad puppy caught out in the freezing rain, and Kelly wants to wrap his arms around him… Again, his brain freezes.

What about the plan? Kelly tries to reason with himself, though his voice of reason is drowned out by Buckley's gloomy expression. An excruciating minute passes before Kelly pushes himself out of his recliner and heads to the locker room. Though Cruz and Cap follow him with their eyes, Kelly will deny that he follows Buckley into the locker room. He just needs something out of the locker room. As soon as Kelly opens the door, he's hit with a high pitch groan. Kelly stands for a second, pondering if he should leave Buck alone, seeming like he needs time to himself. Yet, he can't turn around. "You okay?" Kelly asks loudly, knocking on the wall to announce his presence.

Buckley's head pops up and he freezes. "Oh, hey." He clumsily welcomes, his eyes saucers when he spots Kelly lingering. A shirtless Buckley holds his wet shirt out for Kelly to see. "J-Just wet in places..." He does not elaborate where.

Kelly nods, feeling the shift in the air. He can't tell you what it is. "I feel you."

"I…um…" Buckley waves his wet shirt in the air. His wet chest glistens under the artificial light.

This isn't the first time Kelly has seen Buckley shirtless, though it's the first time he notices Buckley's tattoos. Kelly, his brain putting them to memory, doesn't know what to make of them, but he can't say he isn't curious. They aren't the stereotypical ones he's used to seeing on Firefighters, who either go for the flashy ones or ones that represent the job: AKA a firefighting badge. There's what looks like a skeleton frog poking out from his upper under arm. Then, the one on his—Nope, nope nope. Kelly shakes his head. He may have already abandoned the plan without a single thought, but he isn't going to go down that path. "Um, come find me when you're dried."

Buck nods as he reaches for his towel. He whips it around and slaps it across the back of his neck, rainwater still dripping from his hairline. "Yes, Lieutenant," he replies, meeting Kelly's eyes.

It's only for a moment, his eyes dropping to the ground the next, but Kelly's cheeks are warm. It startles him and he drops his gaze. Buckley pulls the towel up and over his head, effectively hiding his face from view, and rubs his hair dry. Forcing his eyes up and away from Buckley's chest, Kelly eyes the now damp towel before he spins and leaves the locker room, his cheeks still warm.

*O*O*

Ten minutes later, Buckley walks out onto the apparatus floor, his boots swashing with his step. He, a little sheepish, scans the floor before his eyes settle on the squad table, more specifically Kelly. With a deep breath, he jogs over and stands awkwardly at the table, as he greets, "Lieutenant."

Kelly eyes the man before he motions to the seat across from him. "Take a seat, Buckley." he orders. Again, his plan from earlier is dead the second he lays his eyes on Buckley.

While he says it in the friendliest tones, Buckley goes stiff, and 30 seconds goes by before he moves to the empty chair and sits. "Yes, Sir," he replies, shooting a quick uneasy look at Capp and Cruz who currently sit catty-corner from Kelly.

"Relax, Buckley. We aren't too formal here." Kelly replies with a wave of his hand. The tension in Buckley's shoulder is back in folds, and it's unnerving, which doesn't sit well with Kelly. Buckley is six foot something with pretty blue eyes and a six pack. He should have everything, but yet, he is anxious and detached, always looking over his shoulder. What the hell happened to this man to make him like this? Why are you getting involved? His voice of reason demands. Because. He protests strongly. No one should be this sad. No one's pain should be ignored. No one should be that alone. But you don't know if he is alone.

"This is the cool table, Floater. Squad only," Capp teases, leaning back in his chair.

Cruz gives Capp the most scandalous look. "Wait…" He tilts his head. "Are you calling yourself cool, Capp?"

"Cooler than you," Capp points a sharp finger at him.

"Oh, really?"

While the two playfully bicker with each other, Severide's sole attention is on Buckley, whose eyes are bouncing between Cruz and Capp, sitting as stiff as a board, the tension in his shoulder cut in half. "So, Buckley," he says loudly, not caring to listen to Cruz and Capp's banter. "I wasn't aware you had squad certifications."

"Yea," Buckley replies quietly. He glances down at his hand, picking at his nails, and chews on his next words. "Our Captain liked us to be ready for anything." He pauses, peeping up to Kelly's face. "It came in handy. We had some crazy calls."

Cruz breaks from his staring contest with Capp and leads forward. "Like what?"

Buckley, chewing on his bottom lip, is silent for an awkward minute before he finally offers up. "Responded once to an airplane crash in the bay. It was a rush against time to save the passengers as the plane was sinking. Our Captain…" He pauses. "He, ah, almost got trapped himself, trying to save a pinned woman."

"Whoa. I bet that was crazy." Cruz replies.

"A drop in a bucket," Buckley shrugs. Most would up play their saves, but he's actively down playing them. "We had a lot of crazy calls. Once, I had to do an elevator rescue where the elevator was filling up with water."

Kelly studies Buckley's facial expression. For a moment, he thinks Buckley is about to open up, but it's gone in a flash. "How does that happen?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Those all seem pretty tamed," Capp replies with a co*cky grin as he leans back in his chair. He folds his arms across his chest and tries to look unimpressed. However, Kelly can see through it.

"Oh, then we had a Flying bouncy house." Buckley shots out.

"A what?" Cruz asks, befuddled. His brain goes into hyperdrive trying to figure it out how.

"A flying bouncy house," The Floater repeats. "Exactly how it sounds. It wasn't secure and a strong gust of wind took it airborne." He pretends his hand is the bounce house and cuts it through the air in front of him like a toy plane.

This is the most animated Kelly has seen the Floater, though Kelly spends too much time staring at Buckley's lips. "Kids inside?"

"Kids inside."

Cruz nods slowly. "Those poor kids. Just think of the therapy." He shakes his head. "Remind me never to rent a bouncy house for my kids."

"Your nonexistent kids, Cruz?" Kelly teased.

"Yes, my nonexistent kids," Cruz playfully bites back.

Kelly watches every twitch on Buckley's face, and out of nowhere, his expression changes instantly. It's odd to see Buckley shut down almost instantly, feeling like whiplash. Kelly blinks, unsure what happened. What triggered Buckley this time? "So why do you float on Truck and Engine if you have squad certifications?" he asks, wanting to change the subject from whatever caused the change in Buckley.

Buckley sits back in his chair, his hands in his lap. "I don't care what crew I'm on or what I have to do. I just want to be a firefighter." He states, resolutely.

"A man after my own heart." Casey interjects, a few feet behind Buckley who flinches. "Good to see you again, Buckley."

Kelly isn't sure how long Casey, a coffee in hand, has been standing there listening to their conversion, as he was too focused on Buckley to notice, though he isn't alone in his surprise. No one appears to have noticed Casey's approach.

"Good morning, Captain Casey," Buckley replies, stiffly and formally.

Casey's eyes narrow, his eyes calculating. However, before Casey could say what's on his tongue, the bell rings. "Squad 3. Man pinned."

Capp jumps to his feet and slaps Buckley on the shoulder. "Here we go, Buckley."

Buckley's eyes dropped to his shoulder for a split second, a mix of shock, confusion, and panic filled his eyes. Kelly stares, wanting to take his expression apart, but there's no time to ponder it.

*O*O*

Kelly keeps peeping back in the truck, stealing glances at Buckley. Even off the truck, his eyes wander to him. The expression from earlier is gone, a hard mask in its place. Kelly doesn't allow his mind to wander far and chastises himself for letting his focus drift for even a second. They have a man pinned. A man who was working on his car in his garage before the jack broke. The wife is frantic, screaming and yelling at the top of her lungs. The EMTs are attempting to calm her, though to no avail.

"Buckley, airbags," Kelly orders, while Capp and Cruz try to relieve pressure. Buckley nods, dashing back into the rain to the truck. Kelly turns his attention to the man, his upper half covered by the car. "We're going to get you out of there, Robert. Just hold on." In record time, Buckley returns 45 seconds later, dripping wet.

After the okay from the EMT, Buckley places the bags and proceeds to inflate them. The bags inflate within 60 seconds, and the car jumps upward, metal squealing. The man groans loudly, panic setting in, which clues Cruz and Kelly to pull. He is bloody and dirty, but overall, he's in one piece, and once in the hands of the EMTs, they're back in the rain, heading to the truck. Not long after, they receive their next call. Unfortunately, they don't have a cover of a garage to protect them from the rain. In some attempt to fix his receiver for his television, the man finds himself impaled on his broken metal fence. Don't ask Kelly how that happened. Buckley and Capp cover a plastic tarp over the man to block the rain, while Cruz holds the fence still. "Cutting," Kelly announces. The hum of the saw is drowned out by the rain.

While they are able to free the man and load him into the ambo quickly, they're dripping wet by the time they get back into the truck. "Let's gas up, while we're out," Kelly states, shaking his wet arm. After topping off the tank, a wet Squad 3 heads back to the firehouse, Capp and Cruz are chatting away. Whatever the topic is, Kelly isn't paying any attention, his focus on Buckley, who has not said a word. Kelly isn't sure what to make out of it, because while Buckley doesn't engage, it doesn't appear that he detests the conversion. It's odd, like he wants to talk and not talk at the same time.

*O*O*

When Squad 3 pulls into the firehouse, only Chief Boden is in, the Ambo, Truck and Engine out. After stripping off their wet gear, Capp and Cruz, already complaining about food, head to the kitchen for a snack to hold them over until dinner. On the other hand, Buckley, after taking off his own wet turnover coat, lingers beside the truck. Kelly isn't sure what Buckley is thinking, but he doubts even Buckley knows as he keeps taking a step forward followed by a step back. Each step is in a different direction, his destination changing. If Buckley isn't so sad, Kelly might've found this whole dance funny, but knowing there's a sadness in Buckley, it breaks Kelly to watch. Unable to watch anymore, he crosses to the Floater. "You okay, Buckley?" he asks, fighting the urge to reach out to him.

Buckley straightens, his shoulders stiff. "I'm fine, Lieutenant," he replies, relaxing just a bit.

Kelly's eye twitches, but he doesn't call Buckley out on the title. He has to be careful and mindful of the subjects he pushes on. The use of his title isn't one of them. "Well, relax. Lay down. rest, Buckley." As the words leave his mouth, he knows Buckley will disregard them. "Get off your feet."

The sounds of rain fill the air, as Buckley opens and closes his mouth, no words coming out. Instead, he closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. "No."

"Buckley."

"I can't." Buckley, eyes wet, sounds wounded, which hit Kelly right in his heart. "I just can't."

Kelly attempts to settle his heart and curb the anger that roars inside him. What—Who the hell hurt this man? Why would someone hurt him? While Kelly has tried to ignore his anger and the questions, he keeps seeing signs, which pulls him right back in, and slowly the pieces start coming together. Someone ripped this man apart and damaged a vital piece of him with zero care. "Why?" he asks softly. The Floater doesn't answer and simply walks past him, his eyes on the push broom on the other side of the floor. Knowing where this is going, Kelly lets out a heavy sigh and follows, and before Buckley can reach the broom, Kelly grabs it and holds it away from him.

"Lieutenant." Buckley, his fear creeping up, attempts to sidesteps Kelly and reach for the broom, though Kelly blocks him each step with his body.

If Casey was here, he would give Kelly sh*t for this, but Kelly is not cool with the idea of Buckley spending hours cleaning the firehouse. Buckley is a fellow firefighter, not their maid. Kelly will not use him and throw him away like trash. But you almost did, his mind interjects. "I think you've cleaned this firehouse enough. Go Rest, Buckley." Kelly orders.

Buckley awkwardly rocks on his feet, his eyes on anything but Kelly. "It is of no bother." His voice is small and soft. "I'm fine. I like to keep on my feet."

"That's all fine and dandy, but everyone needs help. Doesn't make you less of a man to accept it." Kelly states, as he offers a smile. "Let me help you."

"Iamthreeinchestallerthanyou." Buckley shots out. A second passes before it dawns on him, and once more, he is completely red in the face.

Kelly's confusion is written all over his face. "What?" Did he hear that correctly? Did…Did Buckley just say he is three inches taller than him? What does that have to do with this? And is he counting? And it isn't Kelly's fault that Buckley is a tall Adonis god with a set of muscles for arms. Without another word and with a beat red face, Buckley twists around and power walks away. No, he doesn't run, but he makes a beeline to the kitchen/common area. Kelly, in disbelief, stares at the spot for a second and asks, "What the hell was that?"

*O*O*

Kelly skates through his paperwork in record time, though he doesn't exit his office until a half an hour later. Listening to the rain strike the window, his mind wonders to Buckley. While he can only judge by the few conversions he had with the Floater, he keeps trying to come up with scenarios that would turn Buckley into a timid, shy man. However, this is only guesswork, and he can admit that. Kelly can also admit that he has no idea who Evan Buckley was prior to stepping into the firehouse. Maybe, the Floater has always been there like this; no, that just feels wrong. He can't tell you why besides the fact that it feels wrong.

Puffing, Kelly forces his thoughts away from the man and closes his eyes. He slowly counts down in an attempt to settle himself. He kicks his feet up to his desk and leads back as he tries to get comfortable. Maybe, then he will be able to clear his mind. It takes a few tries, a few deep breaths, to clear his mind, and as he listens to the raindrops, it almost puts him to sleep, his eyelids heavy. He sits in sleep limbo for a second before his stomach punches him awake with an angry growl. "Fine." He rumbles to himself as he lowers his feet and jumps to his feet.

His stomach reverberates again, earning another sigh. Kelly, his mind distracted, hasn't had anything since this morning. Watching Cruz and Capp go to town on snacks, he's intent on waiting for whenever Ritter and Gallo got back to fix dinner, but considering everyone, besides Squad 3, is out, there's no telling when they'll return and he's too hungry to wait. Should someone else fix dinner for the crew? Sure, but Kelly doesn't have the patience and he doesn't cook for the fire house. Too many opinions.

Closing the office door behind him, Kelly makes his way to the kitchen. He picks up the sound of sizzling before he rounds the kitchen and not to his surprise, it's Buckley behind the stove cooking. There was no chance it would've been Cruz or Capp. "What you making?" Kelly asks from the doorway.

Buckley looks up, his lips flat, and studies Kelly for a moment. "Bacon Mac and cheese." He tips the sizzling pan of bacon and tilts his head to a block of cheese to his right. There's also a bag of uncooked elbow macaroni to his left.

"From scratch?" Kelly asks, both amazed and relishing the smell of bacon at the time.

"Is there any other way?" Buckley's eyes drop to the pan, his expression a mixture of a smile and a grimace.

Remembering the eggs from earlier, Kelly points and declares, "You like to cook!" There's no judgement in his voice, just amazement and…wait?... delighted? Thrilled that he knows something about the Floater. Oh, it takes only so little to bring a smile to his face.

"Yea." Redness blooms in Buckley's face again as he opens the box of macaroni.

Without even processing what he is doing, Kelly walks over, any earlier objection to dinner goes out the window. He rubs his chins and asks hesitantly, "Do you need any help?" He doubts that Buckley needs his help, him not the best cook, but he offers. "You can order me around for a change." He grins.

Buckley's face goes even redder. "O-okay," he stutters.

Normally the timidness annoys him, but the odd shyness is oddly attractive. Kelly's brain freezes on the word, a blue screen of death. The word bounces across every fiber of his being, destroying self-accessed labels, but it feels right. However, He doesn't want to process the meaning of that, whatever that is. "Okay, where do you want me?"

"Bacon," Buckley answers and points as he turns to the pasta.

Kelly, still smiling, nods and crosses to the front of the stove. "Oh, I love the smell of bacon." He playfully smells the cooking bacon.

Buckley shoots him a look before refocusing on the block of cheese. Silence falls as Buckley keeps his eyes trained down, fumbling with the cheese packaging. For a while, Kelly doesn't care about the silence and is content with it since he has a chance to watch the Floater in action. Sure, Buckley doesn't have the same grace that he had prior when he thought he was alone in the kitchen, but he doesn't look like some child walking in his parent's heels. "Milk," Buckley randomly declares and points in the air. He twists, spinning around Kelly—barely three inches between them- toward the refrigerator for the milk. Kelly follows him with his eyes, fascinated by the hop in the Floater step. As time goes by, Buckley gets more comfortable. While there is a long way to go before he's gifted with Buckley's true face, he can see a glimpse of it now. It's rather nice.

After cooking the bacon, Kelly asks, "Now what?" The bacon is enough to make his stomach rumble again, which earns a baby smile—not quite a full smile—from Buckle.

"Chop them. If you can handle that?" Buckley asks, as he hands Kelly a knife.

Kelly stares at Buckley for a bit before he takes the knife, their fingers touching for a second. A sense of warmness blooms in his fingers. "Is that some sass I hear, Buckley?" He sticks his tongue out. "Already sassing me, geez."

Once more Buck, including his ears, goes red, and a minute goes by before he speaks. "You…you can call me Buck."

Hm, Buck. Kelly beams. "Okay, Buck." Buckley—Buck nods his head as he pours the pasta into an oven safe pan. Once Kelly finishes chopping the bacon, Buck, with no care, reaches across Kelly for the sliced bacon bits. "Hey," Kelly exclaims, pulling back the knife quickly.

Buck hums and tosses a piece of bacon into his mouth before dumping the remaining into the pan. With a quick stir, he mixes everything together and places it in the pre-heated oven. Not even a second later, Buck orders—yes orders— that they are making a salad, and while a salad is just a salad, Buck seems to enjoy the fact that he gets to boss Kelly around. "You're enjoying this too much," he replies as Buck throws the lettuce at him.

"Enjoying what?" Buck asks innocently.

Kelly gets it: who wouldn't want to order him around. Kelly would love to boss Casey around for a day, sh*t even an hour, and while Casey technically out ranks him, no doubt Casey would love to order him around. "You know what." He replies. This time around, Kelly pucks pepper off Buck's cutting board—between cuts- and tosses it in his mouth.

"Hey," Buck protests, looking offended.

However, before Kelly can respond, a voice from the doorway calls out. "What do we have here?"

Kelly's head shots up, his smile disappearing. "Casey," he articulates, eyeing him and the rest of truck 81 and Engine 51 standing behind him. Each of them is soaked to the bone. When did they get here?

Gallo pushes forward, a grin taking up his entire face. "Oh yes. Dinner!" he pauses, remembering his wet clothes.

"Change first!" Ritter counters, as he points up the air.

Casey, his hair sticking to his face, watches Ritter and Gallo without another word head toward the locker room from the corner of his eyes. "They were complaining about cooking dinner the entire time."

"Real earful," Stella says with an eye roll, as Foster and she follow Ritter and Gallo, a trail of wet footprints behind them.

"Wait, Severide is cooking?" Herrmann exclaims loudly, as he peeps around Casey. "Oh, my god. He is." Shaking out his wet jacket, he glances up at the two behind the stove.

Kelly huffs. "I cook. Just not for you picky asses."

"Me pick-"

"How long before dinner?" A female voice asks, interrupting Lieutenants. It takes a moment to process, but there behind Casey stands Brett, who has an odd expression on her face when she meets their stare.

Buck has sunk into himself, and he's looking anywhere else but at them. "15 minutes," he answers.

Once more, Kelly is hit by whiplash when he notices the sudden change in Buck. For a second, he's wondering if Buck has been switched out with a clone. His anger bubbles back up inside of him in folds, and it takes everything in him to keep this anger off his face. Just give me a name. He has the uncontrollable urge to punch whoever hurt Buck in the face. He just needs a name

"Good." Herrmann nods as he and everyone else - with the exception of Casey and Brett—head to the locker room. Brett is still eyeing Buck.

Casey, his shoes squeaking, steps toward the oven, his eyes bouncing between the two. However, before he can ask his question, Buck steps back from the oven and exclaims, loudly, "I gotta check something." He doesn't wait for an answer and bolts from the room. Brett narrows her cold eyes at Kelly, who falters under her stare. She doesn't say anything, but she follows after Buck, her wet clothes be damned.

Casey follows Brett with his eyes and waits before he asks, "So, what was that?" he asks, his eyes lingering in the direction Buck left. His tone isn't as friendly as before.

"I do not know," Kelly answers, not noticing the tone. "But I am going to find out."

Chapter 5: Whiplash

Chapter Text

Chapter 5:

Whiplash

A few months ago

There're a number of fun attractions along the way he can stop at, but he, his mind in turmoil and the steering wheel in a vice gripping, bypasses them all and heads directly toward Chicago, the start of Route 66, the corner Jackson Boulevard and Michigan Avenue. He stares at the Route 66 sign, the cars behind him loudly honking when he lingers at the light. His chest is heavy, and his lungs are ablaze. His skin itches, an uncontrolled burning sensation flowing through his veins. Tension in his chest, everything is suddenly too much, and panic starts to build, his fears and anxieties scurrying back.

Unable to get out of the car due to half traffic to visit a restaurant for food and his patience riding dangerously low, he presses his foot to petal and takes off. When he settles down—after a few deep breaths and twenty solid minutes of driving-, he stops at the Cloud Gate AKA the Bean. After paying a ridiculous amount for parking, he basks in the sun and stares at the Bean. He, skin itching, mindlessly watches the reflections of the crowd for an hour before buying a postcard and heads back to his car. While no one crosses too close to him, he feels packed in and has to get away.

With his mind in the clouds, he drives, and ends up on Lake Shore Drive, the view of the Lake to his right. Windows open, it's a beautiful drive, but yet, there's something missing. Buck, impulsively, takes the next off ramp and speeds down the side streets. Scent of the water in the air, he parks as close as he can to the shoreline of Lake Michigan and treks the rest of the way to the water's edge. It's a nice walk, the cool air feeling amazing on his face. He finds a lone bench along the semi busy shoreline and falls back into a sitting position. His ass stinging, he closes his eyes and leans back; immediately, the full force of the cold breeze hits him from the lake and sends a shiver down his back.

Yet, he doesn't move. He takes it, as he would rather feel cold than numb… or empty. While Buck doesn't enjoy the idea of driving on the open road again with no destination, it distracts his mind from the sh*t show that's his life, and he isn't ready to give it up just yet. He isn't ready to jump back into life, back to reality, and put back together the pieces of his life. Even now, the very thought of his future brings up waves of panic. No. No. No.

Slowly opening his eyes, he picks up his tablet—ignores the blinking message icon-, brings up an internet browser and searches for landmarks and/or tours in the surrounding areas. Within minutes, he has a long list of tours and landmarks that he's interested in, but the words 'Gangsters and Ghosts Tour' stand out and Buck is in, 110%. A loud weirdo at heart, he loves those tours even if they're tourist attractions. Sometimes these are the best-known secrets.

Hours have passed, and he's freezing, but Buck doesn't move an inch. Doesn't even think about returning to his car until the sun starts to set, a line of darkness high in the sky. The sounds of the wave put him in a trance, and he can't look away. He watches the waves crash into the shore with a vengeance, which mirrors his traitorous thoughts perfectly. His mind is a whirlwind of doubts, shame, and anger; and yet, at the same time, there's something relaxing about the hazardous water. He could sit here forever, could sleep here; in fact, it takes blood curdling screams to get him to move.

Working off reflexes, he's on his feet in seconds, and barely remembering his tablet, he dashes off toward the screams. Buck can't tell you what firefighter mode is, but a switch has been switched in his head and he's in it. Though he no longer holds the rank, some habits die hard, and this habit is dying hard. Singular focus, Buck's heart pounding when he arrives on the scene, a cold sweat layering his forehead. Ignoring the surrounding noises, he swiftly scans the scene, taking note of anything relevant and vital. A few things pop out to him. A heavy white smoke rolls out of the tops two floors like water, and a flashing red glow fills the windows on the second. There's a crowd of people already forming, a crying mother, dressed in a bathrobe, in the front held back by another couple.

Buck freezes and contemplates his next steps, his eyes jumping among the crowd. There's an undeniable, intense pull in his chest, demanding him to jump in. His whole being is calling out for action. Yet, his training's screaming at him, reminding him of his lack of equipment. He could hear his former Captain telling him not to be an idiot, but the screams and cries of the mother breaks Buck, his body shouting at him, demanding to run into the building for the child. Having put on the gear. Having saved hundreds. Having felt the pride and bliss at reuniting loved ones, there's nothing else in the world he would rather do. He's destined to be a firefighter.

But you aren't. The voice in his head argues. You're a waste of space. You don't deserve to put on that uniform.

You betrayed the uniform. A different voice asserts. You don't get to act like a firefight now.

A third voice wiggles itself forward, a more gentle and friendly voice. But you can be a firefighter again. The voice is so tiny Buck barely hears it.

Bobby doesn't think so. The first voice interjects. And neither does Eddie.

Screw Him. Screw them! The tiny voice protested, louder and stronger than before. Screw everyone! Save those people.

"I am a firefighter." He states loudly, ignoring any pointed stares. His eyes glued to the burning building, his choice is clear. He doesn't need a family to do the job. A family makes you weak. Firm in his choice, he worms his way through the crowd and heads to the sobbing woman. "Off duty firefighter," he tells her. He ignores his inner voice calling him a liar, his resignation flashing before his eyes. The mother, hiccupping between each word, explains that her husband went in for their child but didn't come back. Buck's heart goes out to the lady as she points out the last place, she saw them. He soaks a shirt, and ignoring everything else, runs into the burning building.

*O*O*

Knowing what to look for, Buck tracks down the father and son in record time. Unfortunately, that's where his luck runs out. The father is passed out a few feet from his small son, who's hidden under the bed. The flames deafening and his lungs burning, Buck heaves the man over his shoulder and stills himself to secure his grip. Once Buck is comfortable, he picks up the kid, and without wasting another second, he promptly makes his way back to the front door. Without his wet shirt mask—dropping it when he picked up the father -, the journey back to the entrance is tedious. Each step is more challenging and excruciating than the last, and the father is growing heavier with each breath. However, Buck refuses to quit and pushes forward.

Bobby's words echo in his head, a slap to the face, but he uses them as a motivator, and it works. His lungs may be on his fire, and his legs may be tingling by the time he makes it back, but he does make it back. Evan Buckley is choking out a lung, but he does get the father and son out. The loud sirens of firetrucks smack him like a closed fist as soon as he steps onto the front stoop. The ground suddenly spins, and without warning and with the father still on his back, his legs buckle, and he drops. But before his knees hit the ground, two pairs of arms catch him. "We got you." A voice calls, startling Buck.

It takes Buck a few seconds to register the four fully geared firefighters surrounding him, even with two holding him. Buck blankly stares at them as he struggles to catch his breath, his throat dirt dry. The weight abruptly vanishes from his back, the father and son taken from him. A third firefighter wraps his arm around Buck and shoulders his weight. Words meaningless to Buck, the Firefighter Lieutenant, without waiting for a response, drags him away from the burning building toward the ambulance.

His lungs may be on fire—pun intended-, but a sense of contentment befalls him, and he feels lighter than he has felt in months. With the knowledge that his worth is not set by the 118, Buck is going to be a firefighter again. No matter the city, he is a firefighter. Buck's attention on the fire trucks in front of him—the truck unit, Squad 3, standing out to him-, he plans. He will put on that uniform again.

*O*O*

Present

For the first hour of shift, Kelly frustratedly doesn't see Buckley, though he knows Buck isn't late for shift due to an offhand comment by Gallo. At first (even if it doesn't seem like it), he's content in letting Buck avoid him, even if he has no idea why the Floater is doing so. A bit childish if you ask Kelly, but whatever. However, he can't help but wonder what he did. Serious, what did he do? He thought they were getting along, teasing and joking together, but if he thinks about it long and hard, he supposes it makes sense. Apart from a few conversions with him, Buck keeps to himself.

So, reminding himself of that, he allows Buck to avoid him for the first hour, but at 61 minutes, he's up and on a mission. The rational part of him is telling himself that he's being irrational, but he pushes that side for now. That's tomorrow's problem to contemplate, as he walks room to room. It isn't until he steps into the kitchen/common area that he catches sight of Buck's nice round backside. His eyes down, he attempts to follow that is, until Casey calls him over to discuss something shift related. Caught up with his paperwork, Kelly can't think of why, but he goes along with it, not wanting to deal with whatever is going on with Casey's face.

Kelly is used to being lectured by Matt Casey, but for some reason, it's more draining than usual and drags on for much longer than normal. Casey, his supposed Best Friend, gives him the death glare when he asks, "are you listening?"

"Yes, totally." He rolls his eyes. The answer is no, but telling Matt that will not do him any favors. In fact, he's sure Casey would drag him to Boden so they could team up against him. Though, maybe Boden could inform him why Casey is going over his reports from the last few shifts with a fine-tooth comb. If he hadn't been on the mission to track down his own Floater, Kelly might've snapped, but that is saved for Buck, not that he would yell at him.

45 minutes pass before he's free from Casey, and 5 minutes later, he hears the tails of Buck sweating off 10 pounds in the station's small gym. Exasperated that he has yet to speak to Buck, Kelly zones in on Buck. It really shouldn't be this hard to get a moment with his own damn Floater, and he thinks he is finally lucky. That is until Brett intercepted him at the gym's entrance. "Hey, Brett. Just need to get past you."

"By the way he's running, I doubt he's interested in small talk." She told him, ignoring what he said. While there may be a smile on her lips, there's a warning in her eyes.

Kelly, his jaw hurting from his strained smile, asks, "Are you stopping me from seeing my own floater?" He tries to keep his tone friendly, but it's anything else.

Brett narrows her eyes, though still smiling. "Of course not, Lieutenant." She stresses his title in a way very few have done. "I just think he needs time alone."

Kelly is not scared of tiny Brett, but he's weary of the cold yet smiling expression on her face. With a deep breath, he replies, "Okay." He keeps what he wants to say to himself. While he doesn't want to admit it, Brett is probably right; besides, Kelly needs to let go of his annoyance. Judging by the heavy footsteps on the treadmill, Buck is running out whatever he's feeling. However, he isn't sure why she is only directing this 'advice' to him. Just as he turns away, a few firefighters walk past them into the gym, but he is the only one stopped. A few choice words form on his tongue, but Kelly doesn't allow himself to go down that rabbit hole, not when he notices Casey in the background, and heads to the Squad table, his feet up.

For a while, Kelly, his eyes forcefully straight forward, remains like that until the alarm rings. "Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Child trapped." Everyone jumps, even non-Squad members, though only the Squad and Paramedics dash to their vehicles, but there's no denying the extra hop in their steps when hearing the word child. With a towel around his neck, Buck dashes out onto the apparatus floor, his shirt soaked through, sweat running down his face. Kelly, from the inside of the truck, watches Buck as he jumps into his turnover gear in record time, and for some reason, he can't look away, this being his first real glimpse of Buck all day.

When Buck gets in, Kelly looks away and motions to Cruz. "Let's roll." He waves as he settles in his seat. Unconsciously, his eyes zip to the side view mirrors, spotting Buck's reflection in the reflective surface. Staring is rude, Kelly doesn't need to be told this; yet, he stares. He drinks in Buck's sweaty form while Buck's attention is on his hands.

Capp makes a comment regarding the pinned kid, and Buck's head shots up, his focus forward. His stare bounces until in some twisted fate, Buck meets Kelly's reflective stare in the mirror. Kelly sucks in his breath, and while they only lock eyes for a moment, Buck's face turns several shades of red and he promptly turns away. Even Kelly's own face is pink, though he masks it quickly, and turns his attention to Cruz.

*O*O*

When Squad 3 and Ambo 61 arrive on scene, a large crowd has already formed and blocks their view. Most of the time, Kelly ignores them and focuses on the task at hand, but with a kid involved, the rubberneckers get on his last nerves, and when he pushes through them, he has to resist the urge to shove them. Boden won't approve, but Kelly's eye twitches at the 15 additional seconds it takes. As they clear the crowd, the scene clears, and if they weren't trained firefighters, they might've fallen victim to their beating hearts. The screams of a young child strike them like an axe, but they keep their focus, their expression neutral. The young girl's right leg is unnaturally twisted in a revolving door between the metal frame and the wall. The frantic mother attempts to calm the girl, but nothing she does works, her child desperately kicking and exaggerating her injury.

Kelly points back to Squad 3. There's no way she would be able to wiggle free; they'll have to cut the girl free. "We have to cut the frame. Capp, the saw." Capp nods and dashes back to the truck.

Buckley doesn't wait for orders, kneeling down in front of the girl. "Hey," he says, his voice softer than Kelly has ever heard. "That's a neat toy," he points to the large, red stuffed fox. "What's his name?"

The girl sobs, her cries softening. "Foxy," she offers, as she tries to wiggle free. She screams again when she can't free her foot.

Buck glances up and meets Kelly's stance, a silent agreement between them. Calming the girl is Buck's task. "Hey, hey." He speaks, putting a gentle, gloved hand on the top of Foxy's head. "It's okay. My friends are going to free you." The girl, weeping, shakenly nods. "My name is Evan. What's yours?" he asks, his smile taking up his entire face.

"Eva," the girl sobs.

"Well, Eva, you'll be free in no time. You just need to keep calm. Can you do that for me?" Buck asks, his voice as gentle as a lamb.

Eva cries. "It hurts."

Buck has the sweetest smile Kelly has ever seen, his chest hot and tight at the sight of it. "I know it hurts." Something flashes across his eyes, though gone in a single blink. "I know it's all very scary," he says, reaching out for Eva's hand. "But can I tell you something? A secret?"

Eva's large eyes are zeroed in on him. "Yes."

"I get scared too."

"You're a firefighter," Eva utters in awe.

"I am." Buck grins as he softly squeezes her hand. "But it's okay to be scared."

"It is?" The tiny voice asks.

"Yes. Can you do something for me?" Buck asks, earning a nod from Eva. "You see Foxy here. He has superpowers."

"He does?"

Buck nods flamboyantly. "He does. Did you know he's super strong? And I mean super strong." Eva, her eyes large, shakes her head. "Well, he is, so I want you to squeeze him as hard as you can."

"What if I hurt him?"

"You won't." When Eva nods and proceeds to squeeze, Buck gives Kelly the thumbs up, though his focus remains on the girl. He keeps a gentle hand on her forearm.

Kelly, though an ear on Buck's conversion, turns back to Cruz and nods to the glass. With the kid calmer, it's safe to proceed. His back to Buck and Eva, Cruz swings at glass, shattering it. "Ready?" Kelly asks, exchanging stares with Cruz and Capp. Without a verbal response, he pulls at the starter cord, the saw coming alive. For the most part, Buck keeps the girl still, kicking only once, which makes the cut easy, the metal snapping like butter. The issue doesn't present itself until Kelly goes to free Ave's ankle. He isn't a doctor, but not to his surprise, the bone is snapped.

Kelly gets down to his knees, and he goes, "On the count of three."

Ave screams before they even touch her, her shrieks deafening, but Buck doesn't blink. "Hey, look at me, sweetie," he replies. "Foxy and I are here." He holds his hand out to her. "You can squeeze both of us." Which she does.

The following 120 seconds goes by in a flash, and the next thing Kelly knows is in Brett and Foster rolling little Eva into the Ambo, her hand grasping Buck's hand in a death grip. Kelly's too far away to hear, but Buck, with a beautiful smile, whispers something to her, which earns a smile from Brett and Foster. Kelly doesn't give much attention to ladies, his eyes on Buck whose eyes are bright and brilliant at this moment. In the background, Capp makes an offhanded comment about Buckley missing all the fun as they sweep up the glass. There's a comment on the tip of Kelly's tongue, but he keeps it to himself as he joins in to help clean.

*O*O*

Two calls later, Squad 3 has a chance to breathe, and it's the first chance Cruz gets to ask, "You have kids, Buckley?"

Kelly's eyes bounce to the side video mirror, eyeing Buck's stiff form in the reflection. The smile from earlier is gone, replaced by a grimace.

It takes a second for Buckley to answer, almost like he has to think about it. "No." He takes a deep breath. "No kids." He frowns. Kelly doesn't know what to make of that, but he doesn't say anything.

Cruz, his eyes on the road, hums. "No kids?" he repeats, mostly to himself. "You handle that like a pro. Like a parent, not even her mother could calm her."

Buck shrugs, his shoulders heavy. "It was nothing. I was just calm, and Eva grabbed hold of it."

Kelly narrows his eyes, watching muscles twitch in Buckley's face. "You're not giving yourself enough credit, Buck." he states, drawing Buck's attention. "I don't think anyone else could've done a better job." Their eyes meet in the mirror, though Buck doesn't look away this time. For what feels like hours, they lock eyes, and Kelly ignores the odd tingle in his checks. He isn't sure what Buck's looking for.

"I have to agree. Capp would've scared the kid even more with that bald head." Cruz shoots out from over his shoulder.

Capp's eyes drill into the back of Cruz's seat. "I can cover that unlike your face. Your face gives children literal nightmares."

Kelly grins at Buck through the mirror before he turns his attention to his two nutcase Squad members. "You two are going to give me a nightmare."

Cruz takes one hand off the wheel and waves off Severide. "Buck, Buck is it?" he asked, both hands back on the wheel. "Short for Buckley?"

There's a pause. "Yes, there were a number of Evans in my fire class, so everyone called me Buck, and it stuck." Buck explains, as he turns to stare at the window.

Silence falls, and a layer of awkwardness litters the air. Kelly's eyes are, once again, observing Buck's reflection. While Cruz and Capp like to tease and mock each other, they are genuinely friendly people, who would give their right arm if needed. Judging by the surprised expression on Buck's face, he wasn't expecting Cruz and Capp to make the effort to get to know him. While 51 is known throughout the CFD as a family house, it's hard to believe that no one had engaged Buck in conversion prior, and yet, Buck looks confused and lost.

Capp shoots Kelly and Cruz a concerned look before he goes, "So… Buck, how are you so good with kids?"

There's a long pause as Buck's eyes scan the truck's cab. "…A" He pauses and takes a deep breath. "A, um, former…" He puffs out his chest, his eyes dropping. "A former friend's kid." He offers slowly. He doesn't explain further, any sense of a smile gone. Buck just curls into himself.

Judging by their confused expressions, Capp and Cruz have more questions, but Kelly with a stern look shakes his head at them. Sure, Kelly doesn't know Buck, but he knows enough to know to know they hit something. Now, Kelly doesn't know what, but it has to do with that former friend. Did the friend die? Did they get into a fight? Does he sense betrayal? Whatever it was, it must've been bad.

*O*O*

As soon as Squad 3 pulls into the firehouse, Buck, not waiting for the truck to come to a complete stop, leaps out. "Hey," Kelly yells, but Buck doesn't stop, and before his feet even touch the ground, he rips off his bunker gear. "Buck." He calls, but the Floater's already across the floor.

Capp narrows his eyes, his gears spinning. "What's up with him?" he asks.

Expression matching Cruz, stepping out of the truck, replies, "It's weird. He just shut down. It's-"

While Kelly has the same questions, he won't stand for this. "Hey," he interjects as he rounds the truck. "Let's not talk about a fellow firefighter. Whatever he's going through, that's not up for discussion. Got it."

"It isn't like that," Cruz tries to argue.

Capp steps forward. "It's just weird how hot and cold he gets. You noticed, right?"

Yes, Kelly has noticed, has experienced it, and while he has questions, it won't do Buck any good if his entire team is chatting about him behind his back. If Buck is like this now, it will be worse if he hears. "Listen, I get it, but we're not going to discuss Buck behind his back, got it?" he demands, pointing a sharp finger at them.

"Got it," they both echo.

Kelly nods his head and turns to leave to track down Buckley. While he warned Cruz and Capp away, that warning does not apply to him. Kelly's going to figure out Buck even if it kills him. But just when Kelly spots the Floater, Ritter and Gallo intercept Buck and drag him toward the stove. At first, it doesn't look like Buck wants to go with them, hesitating at the door, but when Gallo states, "That Mac & Cheese was to die for," Buck settles a bit.

"And we could use some help with stew." Ritter points to the stove. "I feel like it's missing something, not sure what."

Buck's breathing is labored, and he shutters a bit, his words lost on his tongue. "I…" However, whatever protest Buck has on the tip of his tongue—and there is a protest- dies the second he notices Kelly. His eyes large, he very pointedly turns to the stove. "S-sure," Buck agrees, as he allows Ritter and Gallo to drag him to the stove. There's a heavy, immeasurable tension in his shoulder, though his face shows nothing.

So back to avoiding me. Kelly thinks to himself. He's tempted to use his rank to pull Buckley aside, but he knows how much Buck loves cooking, and he would never do that to him. Besides, Casey is staring at him again. How is that man everywhere?

*O*O*

For the next few hours, he doesn't see much of Evan Buckley, who promptly leaves the room after helping Gallo and Ritter with dinner, and after two helpings of the stew, Kelly once more seeks Buckley out, annoyed at his own floater for avoiding him. However, just as he spots Buck, Casey pulls him and Herrmann aside for a meeting, a briefing that takes too damn long for his likening. Why the hell is up with Casey? By the time he spots Buck again, everyone is settled down for the night, and each knock on wood before they bury themselves under the covers.

Buck, a rag in hand, is on the apparatus floor, cleaning Squad 3 tools. For a few minutes, Kelly ogles him, eyeing the tension in his shoulder. That tension has been there since Buck mentioned this former friend, which strengthened Kelly's earlier thoughts. There's a story about this friend. Considering how jumpy Buck is, a few theories come to mind, none put this friend in a good light. "Buck," Kelly calls, quickly crossing over to the Floater.

Said man's head snaps up. "Lieutenant," he shouts out, surprised. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Are you okay, Buck?"

Putting down the rag, Buck, conflicted, lets out a hefty sigh. "I'm…" He drifts off, his words getting stuck in his throat.

Kelly's wrestles with his words, his tongue twisting in his mouth. He knows his next words are a risk. "I'm sure you've noticed, but this house isn't like other fire stations. Floater or not, 51 is a family, and we're here for each other, no matter what. So, if there's anything you need, we're here. We don't judge."

Buck's expression morphs, and for the first time, anger flashes beneath the surface, his lips twitching. "I'm good, Lieutenant."

"Okay, but-"

"I'm not here for a family." Buck snaps, his voice carrying. "Just here to do my job."

Blinking, Kelly's smiles slip from his face as he feels like he has been slapped in the face. Jaw locking, he doesn't take well at being yelled at, and honestly, if it was any other floater, Buckley would be gone. But with Buck, he isn't able to pull that trigger. For some god awful reason, Buck interests him. "Buckley." He replies, a soft but firm warning in his tone.

"sh*t," Buck curses loudly, his expression dropping. "I don't mean to. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." His next few words are a jumbled mess, and Kelly has no chance of making them out.

The lieutenant takes a deep breath and studies the fear in Buckley's eyes. It's both heartbreaking and telling. No doubt, real trauma exists behind them. It is but isn't a surprise, considering the theories he has regarding this friend. However, is it possible that it runs deeper than he originally thought? "Buck, it's fine." He puts his hand up to silence him.

"Itisn' 't-"

"Buck!" Buck immediately shuts down and schools his face. Kelly's eyes drill into Buck, taking him apart inch by inch. While he knows he risks alienating Buck, he needs Buck to know this. He isn't going anywhere if Buck wants to lean on him, Floater or not. "I stand by what I said earlier. If you need to talk or anything, we're here. I'm here." He winks at the word 'I', which he will not ponder.

Buck slowly nods, shaking slightly. An awkward silence falls for a minute, as Buck's eyes drop. With a deep breath, he throws down the towel and spouts loudly, "I'm… I'm just going to sleep." Buck sharply but shaky inhales, and Kelly almost misses it, but in this sharp intake, there is a sob. Try as he might, he could not hide it. Buck sobbed.

Kelly, his heart tight, really wants to punch someone now, and while he has never met this friend, he is a perfect outlet for this anger. Stop it. With a deep breath, he refocuses on Buck. Punch people later. "I'll put these away." There're a few things that Kelly wants to say, but he decides now would not be a good time. Buck is a corner animal right now.

Judging by the twitch in Buck's lip, he wants to argue, but he doesn't. Instead, he nods and walks toward the bunkers, passing Brett who gives Kelly a hard stare. Geez, he thought. He has no idea how he got on Brett's bad side, but he doesn't like it. Once Buck disappears down the hallway, she—on a mission- makes toward him, but before she could reach him, the bell rings. Saved by the bell.

"Ambulance 61, Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, apartment fire."

Any thoughts of Buck disappear, and Brett's pointed stare vanishes as everyone races to the trucks.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Runnin'

Chapter Text

Chapter 6:

Runnin'

A few months ago

Maddie Buckley isn't an idiot. While she doesn't know the full extent—Evan keeping everything close to the vest-, she knows there's a rift between her brother and the 118. At first, Maddie plays it off, believing everything will work itself out. Although Maddie stands behind her brother 100%, she understands how the house could be tense for a week or so as they work out their issues. Her brother, good reason or not—Maddie will never fault Evan-, did reveal 118's secrets to his lawyer, and without a doubt, his coworkers- his family- must've felt betrayed. Maddie understands this.

Lawsuits are messy and awkward; most people don't fully understand until after the sh*t hits the fan, which is far too late. So yes, Maddie, unlike Evan, expected some blow back and was/is prepared to be Evan's sounding board. While she never says it aloud to him, she seeks him out more, calls him more, and invites him out more. At first, she believes her plan is working, spotting a wispy smile on his face numerous times. Yet for each smile, there's a frown. Evan thinks he hides it, but she can spot the sadness lingering deep beneath his skin.

At Halloween, Maddie thinks they're at a turning point after Evan saves a guy stuck in the windshield of a car for days. There's a new energy within him, the likes Maddie hasn't seen in weeks, and the big sister in her is overjoyed, thrilled. She's getting her happy go lucky brother back, but that happiness doesn't last. She spots the familiar frown on Evan's face a few days later, but this one is different. It's harder, sadder, and… Maddie can't explain besides the fact that Evan is even more reserved, and she doesn't like it. For weeks, she avoids going to Howie regarding this, as she doesn't want to go behind Evan's back. From day one, he made it perfectly clear that he doesn't want her getting involved, and he especially doesn't want her to bug Howard about this. He almost panics over the thought. Maddie can understand he doesn't want a 'mother' coming in to save him, but it bugs the crap out of her to sit back. Evan is her baby brother, damn it, and she wants to protect him.

Why can't he let her in? What is he worried about? She'll never pick Howie over him. He has to know this, right? What does Evan think he's protecting her from? The only things Maddie can come up with make her cry, the cruelest of things flooding her mind. But can the 118 be that cruel? The very thought feels wrong. The 118 can't be that cruel, lawsuit or not. They're a family. Hen and Chimney are Evan's two loving older siblings who tease him endlessly while at the same time taking down anyone who looks at him funny. Bobby's a proud father who beams and boasts every time Evan does good. And then there's Eddie. Maddie lets out a sigh. There's so much Maddie can say about Eddie. So much.

Maddie lets out a deep wounded sigh. She called Evan the day before, her worry through the roof, but no answer. Does Evan answer all the time? No, but something feels off this time. Dread blooms in her stomach with each unanswered call; yet she talks herself down. After a rough day (especially when you're a firefighter), it's common to want a night to cool off, and Maddie, unwisely, gives him that, though just the night. But by 7:30am, she, on a mission, is up and dressed, ignoring Howie, as she walks out the door; nothing is going to stop her. In recording time (speeding), she pulls up at Evan's apartment building and is out of the car by the time the clock hits 8am. She has tunnel vision, her focus completely on her depressed brother, but she clocks a moving truck when the movers exit the building with a familiar looking sofa. Hmm, most be a popular black sofa. She ignores the probing question—the fear- in her gut as she makes her way to elevator.

The protective elevator covers the landlord put up strikes her like an open palm slap. Her heart chills and the air in her lungs heats up, fear taking over. Breathe! Maddie exhales slowly in a shoddy attempt to calm herself. "Evan is fine. Evan is fine." She repeats. "It's someone else." She can hear the shiver in her own voice. "It's fine. Someone else is moving, and they just so happen to have the same sofa." Maddie breathes deeply through her nose, her jaw unnaturally stiff, as she stares at the digital floor number on the elevator panel. "You're worrying for nothing. Evan's fine."

When the elevator slows and stops at Evan's floor, Maddie immediately steps forward, her nose almost tapping the doors. "Come on. Come one." She hisses, the doors not opening fast enough. Her frustration and worry are seconds away from bursting, and her nerves drive her forward. She doesn't wait for the creaky doors to fully open before she turns to the side and slides through the door. She nearly gives the person waiting for the elevator a heart attack, as she nearly collides with them. With her so focused on Evan, she barely spits out a "Sorry" before she is half way down the hall.

At first when she spots Evan's door, relief floods her, and she can finally breathe, but that relief is short lived when she steps into the doorway of his apartment. His chest tightens painfully, like she was dosed with ice cold water, and her heart soars. The nurse in her freaks, her heart seconds from exploding from her chest. All that fear she felt earlier doubles and the room spins. She's going to be sick as she gazes upon her brother's apartment. She-

"Excuses us, Miss."

Maddie jumps, the air in her lungs gone. "What?" She utters, grasping for air, as she turns around.

The older of the two men points to Evan's door and replies, "Excuses us."

Mostly out of shock, she moves to the side and allows the men through before her brain can catch up. It takes a second for her to collect her thoughts and follow them in. "Wait!" she exclaims, her breathing shadow. "Wait! What are you doing? This is my brother's apartment."

The two don't stop, but the older man glances over his shoulder at her, his stare chilly. "We're doin' what we're paid to do." He nods at his partner, and they make their way to the large coffee table in the living room.

Maddie, her emotions bubbling up in her, takes a deep breath as she crosses to them. "Stop," she hisses, placing her hand on the coffee table. "Just stop. What's going on here?" She demands.

The two men share a quick glance before the older one replies. "Listen, Lady. We aren't told the why. We're just paid to move stuff, which is what we are doin'" He gives her a sad, exasperated smile. "Maybe, you should call your brother."

It takes all of her self-control not to snap on his man. It isn't his fault she knows. He doesn't know she has been trying to call Evan all last night. I suppose it won't hurt to try again. She nods and steps back as she reaches into her purse for her phone. Turning away, she dials her brother, but once more, there's no answer, the call going straight to voicemail. She, while knowing it's pointless, tries a few more times. She puts her blinders and pretends the movers aren't leaving Buck's table. After the sixth time of getting his voicemail, something snaps in her and she's really to pull out her hair. Tears fall as she replays her last conversion with Evan.

"Miss Buckley?"

Again, Maddie jumps at the sudden voice behind her. "Y-Yes," she replies, wiping the tears away before she turns around. She recognizes the middle-aged woman as Evan's nice, sweet neighbor, a woman Evan mentioned a few times. He had mentioned the name, but she doesn't recall it now.

"Hi. Maddie, is it?"

Maddie nods and, without a beat, pushes forward, "Do you know what's going on? Do you know where my brother is?"

The woman's eyes go sad, and her smile disappears. "He's gone, Honey."

Maddie ignores being called Honey—this woman is only a few years older than her—and asks, more like demands, "What do you mean by gone?!" There's no way that Evan is gone. No way. They promised each other they wouldn't leave the other behind anymore. He just wouldn't.

"I mean he's gone. He-"

Maddie's eye twitches. "Gone where?" she interrupts. She doesn't want to hear that word again.

The neighbor takes a deep breath and replies, "He took off yesterday. I don't know where." She pauses, her eyes drifting to the window. "He…" She shakes her head. "I don't know what happened. He wouldn't tell me. He just asked that I let the movers in, and I agreed." She takes a deep breath. "He was so sad. Broke my heart."

It isn't the end of the word. Maybe, he's just moving across the city or the next city over? "Did he tell you where-"

"H- Miss B—Maddie," the lady interrupts, softly, as she struggles over her words. "The… The movers aren't taking his stuff to another address. They're taking it to a storage facility for long term storage. I don't know where he went."

Maddie's heart stops. It feels like someone has shot her in the chest and she suddenly can't breathe. She's grasping. She knows what that means. She knows what happened. She knows what he's doing: he's running. She had thought he was over running after finding the 118, his family. But the 118 isn't that family anymore, her traitorous mind supplies. No, they aren't, and Maddie has to chew down the sob on her tongue. She doesn't want to believe it, but it makes sense. Evan is running. Knowing her brother, he probably doesn't even know where he is going.

Maddie can't tell you what the woman said next as she's already out the door, an intense anger pushing her forward. All of that worry and concern she feels turns into pure fury, which she's ready to unload on the 118.

*O*O*

By the time Maddie pulls up to the 118, she's boiling. No one, not even her boyfriend, will be safe from her pained fury. Captain Nash may need to call the cops to drag her out, and honestly, she hopes he tries. She hopes it's Athena who comes, so she can tell the Officer what her Husband has done to their favorite firefighter. Nash would be done for.

Yes, a part of her blames herself for this as she knew something was up, knew something was wrong, but she did nothing. She talked herself down. Didn't push. Now, she wishes she hadn't listened to her brother, but she was too wrapped up in her own happiness with Howie. Finally happy, she didn't want to admit something was wrong, didn't want to admit life wasn't perfect. After Doug, she selfishly didn't want to give up her happiness, and because of that, Evan got hurt. She'll never forgive herself. However, that doesn't mean she isn't going to rip the 118 apart, because she is. She is going to demand the f*cken truth, make they verbalize what they did to her brother, and then, she's going to stuff it up their ass.

Maddie stays in her car for a minute, practicing the breathing technique her therapist had shown her. She breathes in and out, trying to clear her mind, but it goes right back to Evan and him quitting his dream job, a job he fought so hard for. An image of her brother crying in his Jeep as he drives a way fills her mind and shakes her to her core. Unable to rid herself of this image, she gives up on the breathing technique; there's no chance in hell that any breathing technique will work. Though she knows this isn't healthy, she gives into her anger as the alternative is drowning in her own guilt. Anger is more appealing, and heck, it feels good. It gives her something to focus on, gives her an outlet. Her therapist will give her a mouth full later, but she would deal with that then.

A permanent scowl on her face, Maddie gets out of her car and stomps across the parking lot. She doesn't hesitate at the bay doors, ignoring any pointed stares. Her dramatic entrance startles a few firefighters, who step back and give her a wide berth. She pays no attention to their shock, worried expressions, her cold stare on her boyfriend… Or ex-boyfriend. She hasn't made up her mind yet. She supposes it depends on whatever he says.

Chimney's eyes light up when he spots Maddie, though concern flickers across his face when he notices her stern expression. "Hey, is everything alright?" He asks. "Hey." He reaches out to her when he does not get the response he expects. His eyes go large when she visibly flinches at his extended hands. "Maddie?"

"Did-"

"Maddie!" Hen calls, rushing over. "Have you seen Buck? He hasn't shown up for work, and Bobby-" Hen stop dead in her tracks, spotting the scowl. "Maddie, what's wrong."

Taking a deep breath, Maddie's eyes dart between the two, her chest on fire. "Bobby what?"

Howie, shock and confused, tilts his head to the side. "Hey, talk to us? Talk to me." His hand twitches at his hand, as he forcefully keeps his hand at his side.

"Bob-" Maddie's words die on her tongue as she catches sight of Bobby on the second floor and Eddie at the top of the steps. Her anger flares at the sight of her brother's supposed best friend. f*ck him. How dare he call Evan his best friend and treat him like sh*t? You don't know that. You don't know what your brother was going through. Her mind interjects. For a second, her anger falters, as she truly doesn't know what happened. However, it doesn't stay gone for long when Eddie, with a cheeky smile, glances up at Bobby, words passing between them. Maddie can't make out what they're saying but hearing Eddie's voice set the fire in her heart ablaze again.

"Maddie?" Howard calls again. Hen has taken a step back, but she still keeps close.

"What the hell did you do to my brother?!" The words explode out of Maddie, the fire spreading throughout her entire body. Every head in the fire station snaps to her, frozen in their last action.

"Wh-no… I.." Howard's words are a jumble mess. "M-Maddie?"

Hen, who glances at Howard, takes toward Maddie. "Maddie, l-"

Maddie shoots her the dirtiest look Hen has ever seen on the elder Buckley's face. "What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Brother?" she asks again, this time slower. From the corner of her eye, she can see Bobby and Eddie quickly make their way down the steps. No one says anything for a while, each just looking at each other. The air is thick with tension: both anger and guilt. It is suffocating, and Maddie just wants to scream until she is hoarse. "Howie."

"We didn't anything to Buck." Eddie shots out, as he finally makes it to the bottom of the steps. He's standing stiff as a statue a few feet back from Howard and Hen with his hands folded across his chest.

Hen's eyes go large in shock for a split second before she schools her expression. "Eddie!" She exclaims loudly, shooting him a warning glare.

Maddie's anger breaks for a moment, utterly stunned by the coldness in Eddie's voice. In all the time she has known the man, she has never heard a cold tone from him, especially not when he's talking about Buck. Buck and Eddie are—were connected at the hip. Brother in arms. Partners in crimes…

Not heeding Hen's warning, Eddie continues on, "Anything that happened to Buck is his own damn fault. He brought this on himself."

That guilt Maddie felt early is back full force as she stared at Eddie. How the f*ck did she miss this? Yes, she knew things were- are tense, but she never realizes It's bad. "Excuse me?!" she asks, her voice cracking.

Bobby puts a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Eddie, no."

Eddie shakes off his Captain's hand and takes a step forward. "Any coldness, any hostility, is on him. He couldn't deal with Bobby telling him no, and like a baby, he went to a lawyer. He didn't-"

Maddie just snaps. Maybe, it's the tone of his voice. Maybe, it's Eddie's lack of remorse. Maybe, she's simply angry, but she stomps over to him, and before she knows what she's doing, her hand is raised. The sound of a hand hitting skin echoes across the floor, followed by the sounds of her name called several times over. While she doesn't and will never support hitting someone, she will make an exception here, especially after hearing that satisfying crack of Eddie's neck.

She would've gladly slap him again if her boyfriend hadn't hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her back. "Maddie!" Howie yells in utter disbelief.

"Why-" Eddie starts, his cheek stinging, before Bobby cuts him by jumping between them and shoving Eddie back. While Diaz is fluming, it takes less energy to hold Eddie back than it does Maddie, who is twisting and writhing in Howard's arms. Bobby looks between Eddie and Maddie, his brow creased and his eye twitching. "Enough." He yells, full on Captain mode. If any firefighter is still working, they halt and stare. No one is working when they hear their Captain yelling. "Maddie, I will not have this in my firehouse. You need to leave."

At this point, Maddie doesn't f*cken care what Bobby or anyone else thinks. Her brother is gone. He's hurting, suffering in silence, and there's nothing she can do for him. He's alone. Well, not completely nothing. She can kick Eddie where the sun doesn't shine. If she gets free of Howard's grip, she will pop Eddie again, a close fist this time.

"What the Hell?!" Eddie finally explodes, as he looks over Bobby's shoulder at the struggling Elder Buckley.

Maddie feels like she ran a marathon as her heart pounds in her chest. "He's gone!" she screams. "My brother is gone!"

Hen stiffens. "What do you mean he's gone?"

Maddie stops struggling long enough to glare at Hen. While she may not know the entire story, she knows enough. She knows her brother was mistreated at this f*cken firehouse for months, been ignored for months. Been treated like sh*t, and while she doesn't know if Hen or her boyfriend joined in the bullying, they did nothing to stop it. For her, that's enough. "He left. He packed up some of stuff, put the rest in storage and drove off!" she hisses. From the corner of her eye, she can see Eddie stiffen, but she doesn't care.

Howard's hands drop to his side in shock. "What? I don't understand. You let-"

"I DID NOT LET HIM." She screams, her throat dry. "He was gone before I even showed up. The movers were already there in his apartment. He's not answering my calls. Everything is going to voicemail." A giant sob works its way up her chest, her heart constricting painfully. "He's gone, no note. No voicemail. No nothing. I don't know where's he's going. If he'll be back." She can't keep back the sob, and tears start running down her cheeks.

"Coward." Eddie interjects, his eyes cold. "He sues us and yet, he's the victim. Good ridden. He's f*cken exhausting."

Bobby looks scandalous at Eddie's words. "Eddie," he yells, a realization dawning on him. A switch goes off in his head.

"No," Eddie protests, his fists balling at his side. "This is on him! He did this all on his own. He went to the lawyer on his own. He spilled our secrets on his, betraying his firehouse. His friends… me!" Me is filled with so much emotion that it felt like a punch. "And now, he abandoned Christopher. So, f*ck him. He can't cry now. Let him drive off a cliff."

If Maddie thought she was angry before, she's on fire now and lunges at him, though Howard catches her before her fist can make contact. "I can't believe he ever called you his best friend!" she hisses. This has to be some cosmos joke, right? Eddie is—was Evan's… Eddie was… Maddie shakes that thought from her head. She refuses to think along those lines anymore, not now. Not ever.

Before Eddie can say whatever insult is on his tongue, Bobby stands between them, one hand on Eddie's chest and the other extended out to Maddie. "Enough! Maddie, I get you are upset, but this is a firehouse. I can't have this here." He holds Maddie's eyes, her heated stare, for a few seconds before saying, "I'm sorry…" he starts before shakes his head, the words dying on his tongue. "…It's time for you to leave, Maddie."

Maddie stops struggling and goes still. "And Evan just gets strewed."

"Maddie-"

"No, my brother gets treated like a leper and you let it happen!" She points a sharp figure at Bobby. "You're just as bad as him." She may not know what specifically they did to her brother, but she blames Bobby for all of it. "What kind of Captain are you?" Her voice carries across the apparatus floor.

There's a mixture of emotions on Bobby's face, a conflict of words hanging in the air. "Madd-"

"Is everything okay in here?"

The entire house goes silent, so quiet a pin dropping can be heard. There by the engine stands the district chief, spotting a very neutral, though cold stare. Behind him is an unknown firefighter.

"Sir," Bobby automatically straightens. "Chief Hernández. I wasn't aware you were stopping by."

Hernández glances around the room, everyone snaps away as if they aren't watching the scene in front of them. "I wanted to check in with you, Captain Nash, while dropping off your floater for the foreseeable future." His eyes drop to the red mark on Eddie's face. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, Miss Buckley is just leaving," Bobby replies, as he shoots Howard a look.

"Buckley?" Hernández hums. "Related to the Evan Buckley?" he asks, his right eyebrow going up.

It makes logically sense that the 118 needs a floater with Evan gone. Maddie knows this, but it still feels like someone has punched her in the gut, reality solidifying. Before, she could pretend this isn't happening, but it's real now. Evan is gone, and she has no idea if she will ever see him again. "Yes, my brother."

Hernández nods, an understanding in his eyes. "He's the firefighter that I wanted to speak with you, Captain Nash. If you may," he speaks, pointing in the direction of Bobby's office.

Bobby's eyes bounce between Eddie and Maddie before he nods and turns away. "This way." Hernández, while the floater heads to the locker room, follows Bobby to his office. Bobby shoots them all a warning with his eyes.

Maddie, trembling at hearing Evan's name rolling off Chief's tongue, waits for Hernández and Nash to disappear up the steps prior to returning her heated stare back on Howard, only on him. At this point, if she acknowledges Eddie anymore, she will have to be dragged out by the cops; plus, any fight she had disappeared when Hernández mentioned her brother. She can't be here anymore. "Howard," she starts firmly. "Don't bother coming home."

"Maddie..." Howard's voice breaks

Hen takes a hesitated step forward. "Maddie," she calls, her face fallen and completely heartbroken. "Lis-"

"If I have to choose between Evan and you guys. I'm choosing Evan, no contest." Maddie doesn't waste another second on them and walks away.

Eddie, though she doesn't care what he says anymore, mutters under his breath, "Buck will be back after he's done with his little tantrum. He just wants us to feel bad." Hen, her tone gloomy and miserable, loudly chastises Eddie, but Maddie doesn't care. She's done with the 118. She isn't sure what she's going to do regarding Howie, but for now, she needs space. She needs time to process what happened.

As she exits the firehouse, she spots Athena pulling up in her police vehicle, and at first, she isn't going to acknowledge her arrival, but Athena intercepts her when she spots the sour look on her face. "Hey Hun, what's wrong?" Athena goes into parent mood, her concern written on her face.

Maddie can't go over this again, can't have this conversion again. While Athena, unlike the 118, is innocent in this, she will break down if she has to tell one more person that Evan is gone. "Go ask your husband." She hisses as she dodges Athena's out reached hand. "Ask him what they did to my brother." As she climbs into her, she clocks the look of surprise on her face, but she doesn't offer anything else. She doesn't care too and just takes off.

If Maddie had stuck around, she might've learned that Chief Hernández is both baffled and disappointed over Evan Buckley's resignation.

*O*O*

Present

Evan 'Buck' Buckley wants to bury his face in his pillow and scream. He wants to hide for all eternally and never come out. He can't believe he yelled at Lieutenant Severide, especially over something so utterly stupid. Over the word family. Over family! The very thought turns his face red in shame. It isn't Severide's fault that Buck has issues. That his issues have issues. Baggage up the ass! If the Lieutenant only knew, he wouldn't be smiling at him with those beautiful green eyes, and he definitely wouldn't be so nice to him. Buck doesn't deserve his nice words. There's no doubt they—Firehouse 51—would treat him cruelly if they knew the truth. If they knew about the lawsuit. This may be Chicago, but they're brothers in arms, no matter the city, and no doubt they would be just as upset hearing about the betrayal.

The thought of 51 learning about the lawsuit scares the crap out of him. Granted, that thought scares him. Why does he care what they think? 51 is not his station. None of these guys are his friends. They are definitely not his family, which is what he wanted—wants. Wants, damn it. He doesn't want friends or a family. This is why he rejects permanent placements, even if he needs money. Staying too long at one house will only hurt him. No doubt that he'll get attached because of his big f*cken heart. Buck doesn't know how not to get attached. His heart is too big for his own good.

Stupid heart.

And stupid Lieutenant Severide and his stupid, gorgeous green eyes.

Buck hasn't known the Lieutenant for long and has no idea why his opinion matters, but if those soft green eyes ever turn on him, Buck won't be able to come back from that. Not again. A pair of furious chocolate eyes flashes across his vision, a haunting echo that he wishes to forget. You're exhausting. A shiver runs down Buck's back as those cruel eyes cut through him like a sharp knife. His heart skips thinking about Eddie, his knees butter beneath him. So, he will do whatever it takes not to have those green eyes glare down at him like the f*ck up that Buck is.

Not that it matters what Severide thinks of him. Buck will be gone soon enough… Well, whenever Ferraris returns. You can ask for reassignment. His mind supplies, though there will be questions. He's sure the CFD would love to hear how unstable he is when he explains why he wants to leave 51. Why he can't serve under a great Lieutenant. No, stop it, he yells himself. Buck forces that though down his throat and shakes his head. He just needs to finish this shift, and he will have 48 hours free of Lieutenant Kelly Severide.

*O*O*

An hour left of shift, Chief Boden approaches Buck, exhaustion written across his brow. "Buckley, with me." he orders when he spots the Floater in the common/dining area. Ritter and Gallo were picking his brain over food choices.

Nash's cold, judgmental eyes replace Boden's and Buck stiffens. "Yes, Chief Boden." he replies, masking the shiver that ran down his spine. Prior to the lawsuit, meetings with Bobby were fun, ending in smiles and laughs. Post lawsuit, they ended with nasty, condescending lectures and cold glares before Bobby tossed him a broom. After a while, Buck learned to avoid Bobby's reprimands and disappointed stares by staying silent, staying 20 feet away and by keeping busy. By keep busy, he means cleaning the station. He-

"Is something wrong, Chief?" Severide's gentle, firm voice cuts through Buck's haze, and the energy changes in the room, settling the turmoil in Buck's stomach. "Something that-"

Boden's narrow eyes bounce between the two before settling on Buck. "No, nothing wrong. Just need to speak to Buckley. So, if you will," he waves in the direction of his office. He doesn't wait for an answer, expecting Buck to follow.

"Yea, Sir." Buck puts on a smile, forcing his eyes away from Severide and his safe green eyes. Stupid, Buckley. Focus. Buck curses at himself and forces himself to move, one foot forward at a time. You need to man up. If all it takes is for a guy to smile at him, he's screwed. Do you want to get hurt again? No. Then you can't let people in. You can't open your heart. Buck takes a deep breath, hoping his heart can stay strong and not fall into the same traps.

*O*O*

Boden may have stated Buck isn't trouble, but 'Buck is a screw up' has been coded into his Buck's DNA since childhood, and Bobby and Eddie have engrained that belief deeper. It overrides everything, including any sense of contentment gifted to him by Severide's smile. So, while Boden says Buck is not in trouble, Buck isn't going to believe that until he leaves Boden's office. "Sir?" Buck prompts, his voice shaky, as they step into his office.

Boden doesn't say anything at first, just eyeballing his stiff form. "Is everything okay, Buckley?"

"Yes, Sir." While trying to relax his shoulders, Buck straightens himself and smiles. "Everything is good." Buck's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, though forced smiles never do. "Is that why you called me in here? To check on me?" He doesn't recall the last time Bobby checked on him.

"No." Boden takes seat behind his desk, watching the slight flicker in Buck's eyes. "But I do care about the firefighters under my supervision, which includes you." He pauses a second before saying, "I called you in for another reason. Normally, we would mark a Floater unavailable when he's on a long-term assignment. However, you're being personally requested by Firehouse 40 to cover a shift."

"Oh?" Buck visibly deflates, releasing the breath he didn't know he was holding. "When?" He never says no to a shift, regardless of how tire he is. Besides, he's not losing out on anything by working 48 hours straight. He doesn't have a life outside of work. Honestly, he would rather be working, too scared about turning into Buck 1.0

"The following shift. Sorry for the short notice. Being your Chief—temporary or not-, I wanted to check in with you first. Are you good with working a double?"

Today's shift has been exhausting, especially when he is still overthinking his last conversion with Severide and got no rest the night before. "Yea, I'm good."

Though Boden seemingly accepted the answer, his eyes have not left Buck's face. "You can leave 30 minutes early today so you can make it to Firehouse 40 in time."

"And Lieutenant Severide?"

"I will let Severide know. It shouldn't be an issue."

Buck nods and turns away slowly, though he doesn't make it a step before he turns back. "You said I was requested, Sir. Was there a particular reason why?" Buck knows his reputation, which he worked his ass on to grow. It's the only thing that he cares about; yet, it always surprises him when a Lieutenant picks him to join them on the truck. "Surely, they could've picked a different floater."

Boden leans back in his chair, his eyes dropping to Buck's jittery right hand. "Quite a few floaters have walked through those doors, and I can count on one hand how many floaters have your drive, your passion." He pauses, looking back up to Buck's face. "I assume you're getting recruited, but I hear you enjoy being a floater."

Yes, Buck enjoys being a floater as it gives him the freedom to do the job, he loves without getting attached to a specific house or people. "If Firehouse 40 is looking for a permanent member, I'm sure there're other floaters, who has been here longer, who deserve the spot more than I do." Deserve. The word echoes loudly in his head. He doesn't deserve anything.

"You should give yourself more credit, Buckley."

Credit. There's another word that echoes in his head, almost deafening. Severide had excused Buck of the same thing. Buck can't tell you why it hurts. "Just doing my job, Sir." Boden takes a deep breath, his expression soft. "If that is all."

Boden's eyes scan the Floater's entire body, taking note of each twitch in Buck's stiff form. "Permanent spots are hard to come by," he replies, ignoring the request of a dismissal. "And you do yourself a disservice by turning them down." Mindlessly, he picks at the files on his desk. "I understand going from a part time Floater to a full time Firefighter is an adjustment, but judging by your reputation, it's a challenge that's worth your attention. Maybe, in 6 or so years, you could be a Lieutenant if you work at it. Let yourself be recruited."

Lieutenant? How can Boden say that? Obviously, he doesn't know who he's talking to. He doesn't know Buck, so he can't say that. He just can't. Buck, choking down a hot breath, isn't sure what Boden wants him to say, but he wants to tell the Chief that his opinion will change given enough time. After any long period of time spent with him, they will see him for what he is. He's exhausting. He's selfish, and all he's good for is grunt work. "Is that all, Sir?" he asks, pretending there isn't a crack in his voice

You're exhausting.

Boden exhales, forcing whatever he is thinking down, and slowly swallows his thoughts. He replies with, "It is."

Buck nods one last time before he turns to leave, his heart finally settling. However, it's through the roof again when he spots Severide leaning against a door across the bullpen, his eyes on him. Concern laces his warm stare, but it vanishes when their eyes meet, and Severide smiles. Buck tries with all of his might to ignore the heat that nestles in his stomach at the sight of it, but it's addiction. He could drown in it given enough time.

"Bu-" Severide doesn't even get Buck's name out before Boden steps out office and calls him in. "Severide." He waves over.

No, Buck isn't booking it out of firehouse 51 because his stomach is doing somersaults. It's definitely not because one smile from Severide has his heart skipping. Yes, definitely not that. Totally not falling for a fellow firefighter again. No, he is booking it out of firehouse 51 so he can make it to Firehouse 40 on time. And if he looks like a totally goof ball to the rest of the station, so be it. Any of their questions can be left for another day, including Captain Matt Casey's, who is shooting him concern stares.

*O*O*

Firehouse 40 is different from Firehouse 51, almost strikingly so. No, not in a bad way. Each of the guys are nice, and Lieutenant Greg Grainger is extremely polite. "Firefighter Evan Buckley," the Lieutenant Grainger greets immediately, his hand out reached to shake. "Lieutenant Greg Grainger."

"That's me." Buck takes Grainger's hand, not offering up his nickname like he has done so to Severide.

"Let's me show you around." Grainger gives Buck a tour of the station and a onceover on the trucks on Engine 40, the truck he will be floating on. It's nice, but yet, something is missing. Buck can't explain; he really can't… Well, he supposes he can, but there's a chilling sensation in his chest when he pokes at it. He's self-aware enough to know this started after floating at Firehouse 51. Before, he never cared about the firehouse he subbed at. What is—

No, Bucks quickly shuts down that thought process and heads to the bunker for a nap. No one questions it, knowing he just worked a shift. Heck, they even direct him to an empty bed, almost shoving him into it. His body just sinks into the spare bed, both his body and soul, though it takes a few seconds to settle his nerves before he falls into a light sleep. They're on fire surrounded by chatting strangers, and unfortunately, he only gets an hour of sleep before the bells ring and is tripping over his feet as he runs to the truck.

*O*O*

The next moments are a blur. No one sees the SUV until it's too late, Buck being the first. "Watch out!" he yells, his voice croaked. Heads snap up, everyone stunned. The uniform cops closest to the car barely have time to dive out of the way, nearly getting hit. If the car hadn't been speeding, it wouldn't have been an issue, but the car is going double the limit, and the driver is reacting far too slowly. Judging by the surprised expression on the driver's face, he hasn't noticed the police's presence until they are directly in his sights. Unfortunately, Buck, his heart in his mouth, and plainclothes Officer are in the direct path of the car. Working off reflex, he grabs the cop and leaps out of the way. Buck isn't sure if he manages to dodge the car, his mind numbed by the pain of his shoulder slamming into the concrete. A sharp pain shots down his right arm to his elbow, and his entire arm goes numb, painfully numb.

Bucks doesn't know long time he's on the ground, but the plainclothes officer has him by his shoulders and manhandle him to his feet, while saying, "Thanks. Are you okay, Bubby?"

The words are just whispers in the air, and it takes the screeches of tires and whistling sounds of metals hitting metal to snap Buck out of his daze. The pain is still there, just nestled deep beneath the skin, but he concentrates on the aftermath of the distracted driver. The spending SVU has smashed into the back victim's now vacant car, pancaked against it. Luckily, the victim, a possible witness, was removed a minute earlier and is with the paramedics, as Buck doubts the woman would've lived through the second crash. The back of her car is gone, the mangle seats pushed up into the front seats, and both vehicles were sent flying into a light post, shards of metal everywhere.

"I'm fine," comes Buck's delayed replies. Several feet away, Grainger, having dove out of the way, pushes himself up to his feet. The vein popping on Grainger's forehead, he quickly scans the new accident scene before he makes visional contact with each of his crew, including Buck. Once he's satisfied that his team is okay, he turns his sights back to the car. His voice is hoarse, shouting orders.

But Buck's focus is on the swaying light post that is teetering back and forth from the impact, the foundation destroyed. The crew of Engine 40's eyes are solely on the SUV, flames erupting from what used to be the engine. Grainger is yelling out orders, though Evan hears none of them. "Buckley!" Grainger yells.

Buck's eyes go large when the light post dips dangerously. "Lieutenant!" He doesn't wait and makes a beeline to Grainger. The lieutenant, who's attention on the burning car and the man trapped inside, has not noticed the post swaying or Buck. He doesn't even look up before his and Buck's bodies collide, their legs a tangled mess, and they tumble to the side. Buck, black spots dancing across his vision, hits the same shoulder he hit a minute ago, but his aggrieved groan is masked by the shrieks of metal breaking, the light post collapsing. Sparks fly when the glass of lightbulb smashes into the concrete at the very spot Grainger stood seconds ago. Buck blanks for a second as the pain roars up, from his shoulder to his elbow, and overwrites everything. "sh*t," he curses.

"sh*t," Grainger echoes, though for a different reason, as he stares at the spot he previously occupied. "sh*t." He shakes his head and turns back to Buckley. "That was close." He doesn't waste any time getting back on his feet, waving off any concerned look pointed their way. "You good, Buckley?" He turns his probing stare at Buckley, his eyes lingering far too long for Buck's likening.

Buck knows Grainger wants honesty, but he freezes up. His chest seizes up and Grainger's concerned eyes morphs into Bobby's scrutinizing, callous eyes, and he can't bite back his trained response. "I'm good." Buck is not good, but it's fine. He's fine. He can do this. He signed up for this. Whatever he needs to do, he will do it. He refuses to be a burden. Refuses to be exhausting. He is going to be useful. "I'm good." He repeats, though mostly to himself

Grainger smiles and pats him on the shoulder. "Owe you a drink at Molly's."

Becoming a pro at attempting drinks he will not accept, he smiles. No Buck does not flinch at another free drink at Molly's. That is the last thing on his mind, especially if it involves stepping into a firefighter bar. He only needs to be useful at his job, not make friends, because goddamn it, he can't be rejected again.

*O*O*

A few calls and a dark sky later, Buck's entire upper right side is throbbing, and no, he doesn't tell anyone. Instead, when the engine returns to the station, Buck stinks into the nearest chair and doesn't move. Mostly, Buck is left alone with only Grainger checking on him twice, but the Floater is smiles both times. Buck wonders what he must look like, though that thought sours quickly. His heart tightens in his chest, his hand flying to his chest, and with no care to his pain, he jumps to his feet and grabs a broom. He is not going to sit around, looking like a crazy man, and do nothing, pain or no pain.

Breathing through his pain, he turns to the apparatus floor. Normally, he would put in his headphones and lose himself in the music, but his headphones are in his temporary locker across the fire station and if he walks to the lockers, he may collapse from the severe pain, which cannot happen. No one can see him weak. Instead, Buck wobbles in place as the sound of laughter rolls out onto the floor from the common area. He ignores his heart that yearns to be part of a family again. No, you don't. His heart whispers.

Buck turns away and sweeps. Okay, maybe, he should've risked it and gotten his headphones, because there is no music to distract him from the yearning. It isn't like he doesn't want to sit with around with the house, joking and teasing with them—he does-, but that will only end up one way: him hurt and broken. While no one can deny he is useful in the fire, personally, he is a needy, selfish child who only cares about himself.

You're f*cking exhausting. Are you going to cry now that you aren't getting your way?

Eddie's words hit him like a punch to the gut, and though his heart twists in his chest, his former friend isn't wrong. Buck is exhausting. He needs constant praise no matter the situation, and if someone isn't giving him it, he turns destructive with no care to who he hurts. No wonder the 118 pushed him away: Buck breaks everything he touches. He sues when he doesn't get his way, acting like a spoiled brat. He hurts his friends without a second thought. He hurts his family. Eddie's right. He's f*cken exhausting. Bobby was right to keep him back. Buck can't be trusted to behave.

Stop it! They aren't. His mind tries to argue. They're wrong. This is why you left! Buck shakes his head, trying to shake out this self-doubt. It's odd. One second, Buck will blame himself for the 118's treatment of him, saying he deserves it, while the next he blames them. Shunning someone is never right. Silent treatment is abuse. But next the next second he's back to hating himself. He's the one in the wrong. They are—were. They were his family, they accepted him for him when no one else ever had, including his parents, and no one else will. Evan Buckley is damaged goods. These Chicago Firehouse think he's loveable, but that's because they don't know him. They would see. He isn't loveable.

He can't let them in. He can't be hurt again when they will inevitably turn on him. No, he just needs to keep his head down and work. He just needs to do his job. He just—

A loud clunk echoes across the floor, and Buck's head pops up, his eyes searching the floor. His heart pounds against his ribs. When he locates the source of the sound, he deflates, spotting one of the older firefighters. Fumbling around, the man had knocked over one of the weights, which rolled into a nearby, metal chair. "f*ck," he curses, a realization hitting him hard. He wanted—hopped it was Severide. Stupid. Did he really expect him at firehouse 40? Stupid.

"Sorry!" The man yells, hearing Buck curse. "I didn't mean to surprise you. Just needed this." He waves a book in the air.

Buck's jaw locks, recognizing a desire that has settled deep in his gut. Stop it, he orders. He sucks in air via his nose and takes a deep breath. Slipping, Buckley. "It's okay," his eye twitching from pulsing pain in his right arm and elbow.

The man nods before letting out a chuckle. "Good. Grainger will kill me if I gave you a heart of attack."

The man doesn't wait for a response and turns to the door. Frozen in place, Buck just stares wide eyed at him, a tingle in his chest. He feels light headed, not from the pain, but from watching the firefighter disappear through the door and down the hall. "f*ck." He curses again, quicker this time. He feels light headed by the fact that he wanted the man to stay. Not him specifically. He just wants… Buck let out a huff and shakes his head. Don't finish that. His mind pleads.

No matter how nice Grainger or 40 is this is not 51.

There is no Blake Gallo and Darren Ritter to drag him to the kitchen or to talk his ear off over equipment.

There is no Sylvie Brett to act like a buffer and glare at anyone who looked at him funny.

There is no Captain Matt Casey to distract any wondering minds and check in on him nonverbally with his eyes.

There is no Lieutenant Kelly f*cken Severide. This Firehouse definitely does not have one of those, which Buck counts as a blessing. Buck absolutely cannot deal with two Kelly Severides. He blames it on being touch starved and isolated from people for so long. Now all it seems to take to weasel through his walls is a smile and praise. Bucks tries to resist the smiles, the praise, and Severide's friendly aura, but man, Buck is failing. The butterflies in his stomach swirl with every smile, and goddamn, he enjoys it.

And by the time he notices, his old toxic habits have already reared their ugly heads, which terrifies the crap out of him. They can't see his neediness. His selfishness. Like a scared animal, he shuts his wall down and bolts. He knows he looks crazy. He knows that he's creating awkwardness between them, having seen the odd glances Cruz and Capp sent his ways, but he has to do this. He has to… And yet he doesn't want to. When Severide smiles at him, he wants to rip all of his walls down. He wants whatever relationship the man is willing to give.

Don't. His mind yells. You can't.

Buck can't let his guard down. Can't get hurt again. He can't fall for the Woman Loving Severide. Yes, though he wasn't trying to, he knows about the lieutenant's personal reputation, and yet not learning from the first time, his heart is ready to jump for the straight guy—not that he is falling for the guy. He isn't falling. Stupid, Stupid. He yells at himself. Buck being stupid is not surprising. He is used to this by now. He expects it now. Example: All Severide is trying to do is be nice to Buck and Buck is being his foolish, inappropriate self.

Closing his eyes, Buck straightens up and takes a breath. While his shoulder aches and the pain is intense, he counts it as an blessing, since it gives him—

"Buckley!"

Said man stiffens for a moment, expecting to be yelled out, before realizes it and relaxes. "Sir," he replies, his eyes following the voice to the owner, Lieutenant Grainger. His eyes are just as large as Severide but nowhere as warm.

"I think you been antisocial enough," Grainger states. "Come join us."

Buck's eye twitches, his feet frozen in place. Grainger's words sting more than he expects it to. "Sir." He hesitates. Though having had floated at a number of firehouses, he can count on one hand how many times he has pulled from cleaning the apparatus floor. Two if you are counting.

"Come." Grainger energetically waves at him with a large smile, his eyes friendly. "Don't make me drag you over."

There's a twitch in Buck's leg, a part of him wanting to join them in the common room, but when he takes the first step, his body goes stiff, and he just stares into Grainger's brown eyes. He's hit with an intense panic, and all he knows is that the eyes are wrong. Just wrong.

"You okay, Buckley?" Grainger asks as he steps to him.

Buck's eyes snap shut, and he counts to ten in his head while breathing slowly. Afterward, he replies, "I'm good, but thanks you."

"You sure?"

"Yes," Buck answers, though not really sure of what he wants. The thought of being pulled into a room filled with his fellow firefighters freaks him out, but yet, he wants to be pulled away from his own miserable thought. He wants to be wrapped in warmth and loved for being him. No one will love you. The thought pierces his heart like dagger. Nope, he's good here where he is safe.

Grainger doesn't respond, his eyes taking apart Buck's stiff form, and crosses the floors in 6 large steps. He—Buck unable to see from where- pulls out a large ice pack and gently slaps it on Buck's shoulder. "Well, take this at least. When I bang up my shoulder, ice helped." Buck, both surprised and shocked, doesn't reply and just stares at the oversize ice pack on his shoulder. "And next time, Buckley, let someone know if you're hurt. Okay?" He waits for a response before he turns. "No one wants you to suffer alone." With that, he turns and leaves.

Buck's eyes are still on the ice bag. "That's what they all say at first." He huffs to himself before returning to cleaning the floor.

Chapter 7: Unspoken Words

Chapter Text

Chapter 7:

Unspoken Words

A few months ago

To say sh*t hit the fan after Maddie left the 118 is an understatement. A massive understatement, but she doesn't have the mental capacity to deal with it. She can barely function as is; so instead, she turns off her phone and heads to work. Initially, she isn't scheduled, but she can't be home. Can't be alone to her thoughts—her horrid, traitorous, guilt-ridden thoughts-, so she calls—before turning off her phone- her boss, Sue, and tearfully begs for a shift. Sue has all kinds of questions, but she drops them when she hears the desperation in Maddie's voice, all questions disappear.

When Josh spots her tear-stained cheeks while on a call at her desk, he hesitantly approaches her, his eyes kind and gentle, and cautiously extends his arms out for a hug. Rattling her head back and forth, she waves him off and asks—more like pleads— for him to drop it. She isn't crying presently, her face just ungodly warm, but if she says Evan's name, she will break down again. While she loves each of her coworkers, being an ugly crying mess in front of them is the last thing she wants. She came here to work and help those who may be having the worse day of their lives.

For the next 4 hours, Evan is only a distant thought for Maddie as she takes call after call, her tones neutral, and while she hates to admit it, she feels whole. She feels like she can stand without the world spinning. She doesn't want to leave. She wants to sit in his chair and take calls for days, but that isn't practical… or healthy. Maddie knows this. Knows she's going to have to reenter life and move onward with this numbing pain in her chest. I just don't know how to do that, she cries mentally. She deeply breathes through her nose, as she whispers to herself, "Just one step at time." She doesn't have to do everything at once. She doesn't have to have everything planned out. She, feeling a weigh being lifted off her chest, will put one foot in front of the other and wait for Evan to reach-

"Maddie."

Her hand freezing on the keyboard, Maddie just barely suppresses the flinch at hearing Athena's calm yet firm voice over her left shoulder and keeps her eye trained on her screen. She, her heartbeat in ear, breathes slowly though her nose to calm the fires in her belly. She isn't mad at Athena per se, just mad at everything the 118 related, which includes the wife of the fire Captain. Evan's fire Captain. The Captain who made Evan feel like sh*t. The fire Captain who scared Evan away.

"Maddie," Athena calls again when said woman doesn't response. Her tone is a tad gentler at Maddie's stiff form.

After switching off her availability for oncoming calls, Maddie lets out a harsh sigh and pushes herself back in her chair. Her eyes twitching, she turns to Athena, who is still geared out in LAPD uniform. "Why are you here?" she asks, skipping all of the normal niceties. It comes out meaner than Maddie intended, but she doesn't find it in her to care.

"Can we talk?" Athena doesn't even blink.

Maddie wants to say no, but going off Athena's penetrating stare, the officer isn't going to take 'no' as an answer. Plus, with Josh and Sue lurking a few desks over, their eyes full of concern and worry, she's lucky that they haven't already pushed, their job stressful. "Okay." She states, slowly, as she gets to her feet and leads her to the break room. Luckily, no one is in the breakroom, though they are still under Josh and Sue's watchful eye, as they eyeball Maddie through the glass. It's a bit unnerving. "I take it you spoke to Bobby?" The name feels like acid on her tongue.

Athena's expression morphs, her eyes darkening. "Yes, I spoke to that man. But how-"

"So, he told you what he did to my brother?" Maddie frantically squeaks. The bitterness is back tenfold, and it's impossible to keep her emotions in check. She just wants to scream. Large tears form in her eyes, threatening to fall. A sob works its way up her throat, which is exactly what she wants to avoid. This is what she needs to avoid.

A thick silence falls as Athena, her expression fallen, collects her thoughts. She dramatically puffs before replying, "At first, he tried to spin it, saying he did what was best for our Buck." 'Our' echoes loudly in the room like slap. "But he cracked in matter of seconds, after his uncomfortable meeting with his Chief. He-"

"Is he sorry? Or is he just 'sorry' because he got yelled at." Maddie interjects coldly, her voice shaking. Would it change anything? Would she forgive Bobby or the house? No, but it might help her feel better if she knows Bobby is truly sorry for his actions. She holds no illusion that Eddie is remorseful for his actions. While she has no idea what's going through that man's heart, he no doubt believes Buck will come running back begging for his forgiveness, which pisses off Maddie. Eddie isn't allowed to abuse her brother and expect an apology from Evan.

Athena huffs as she folds her arms across her chest, observing the angry tear dip from Maddie's right eye. "I honestly don't know. He seems like he is, tearing up, but I can't say if I believe him. I don't recognize the man. The Bobby Nash that I married wouldn't have been so cruel to Buck. Wouldn't have hurt him." As her voice cracks, she pauses and takes a deep breath. "I didn't want to have it out while on shift, so I left. I'll deal with him when I get home." The vein pops on her forehead. "But enough with that man, I'm here to check on you. You haven't been answering anyone's calls. How are you, Hun?"

Involuntarily, Maddie's right hand drops to her pocket and traces the edges of her phone through the fabric. How is she supposed to be? Her brother was more or less emotionally tortured every day at work, a career that he loved. It was so bad that he ran away without a single word in a frustrating attempt to protect her. The brother she had been estranged from for years due to her abusive husband and distant parents disappeared. The brother she pretty much raised is gone and Maddie can only wait for him to reach out. "How am I supposed to feel?"

Athena softly exhales, her eyes soft. "Sad, angry-"

"I am angry. I-" Maddie starts before cutting herself off. "But I can't do this. If I do…" She turns from the cop and takes a deep breath. She chokes back a sob.

Taking a step forward, Athena reaches out for her. "You—" She shakes her head and instead says, "Just know we're here for you."

Who is this who? Maddie angrily ponders, but she pushes that thought away. Regardless of who this 'we' is, she's done with this conversion, with them; besides, she isn't going to have it out here with Athena. While Athena is not at fault and Maddie knows this, Athena is married to the man who hurt her brother. A traitorous thought wiggles itself up in her fragile state and takes up a space in her head, and she can't help wondering how much Athena knew and how much she let her husband get away with. The resentment is just too intense to fight. "I don't need anything besides you dealing with your husband."

"Maddie." Athena doesn't mess the chilling tone in Maddie's voice.

"No! I can't deal with this, or anything else 118 related right now." Which includes you goes unsaid. Instead, Maddie turns to the door. "I need space." She doesn't wait for a response and crosses back to her desk, while ignoring the pointed stare Josh, Sue and Athena share behind her.

*O*O*

When Maddie turns her phone on, it's flooded with messages and voicemail. None are from Evan. Not a single one, and her heart breaks. Rather, they're from Athena, Carla, Hen, Karen, and Howard- most are from Howard. Maddie, unable to handle it, automatically deletes all of the unread voicemails, not caring to listen to them. She quickly glances through the text messages, though not retaining a single word. She leaves them unread besides Howard's, which she deletes without a second thought. There's not an ounce of regret in her, her no interest in hearing anything he has to say.

For the next week, Maddie ignores all incoming calls besides those from Sue and Josh and works every shift she can get. After offering her ear, Sue, as friendly and nonjudgmental as she can be, brings up a counselor. Maddie nods, though not admitting that she has already saw her therapist and it did not help, too angry to listen to what he had to say. She ranted at her therapist, vomiting up everything she felt—still feels. She felt worse after, feeling empty. Josh invites her out, offering her a friendly shoulder to cry on. At first, she declines, not wanting to venture out; but eventually, she invites him to her place for movies and ice cream—the perfect atmosphere for crying her eyes dry, which is what happened. Maddie doesn't know what she would do if Josh weren't her friend.

It's at day 8 when there's a knock on her day—Sue forcing her to take a day off. Maddie's hearts leaps, her mind automatically filling up with hopes and thoughts of Evan. She tries to force this hope down, telling herself that this could not be Evan. When Evan runs, he's gone for months until he feels 'normal' again. Yet, she can't help but envision her brother on the other side of the door, broken and tired. "Coming," she yells, her voice hoarse.

Any hope she has is shredded when she flings the door to reveal Howard. "Hey." He, his voice soft and his cheeks red, smiles as he stuffs his hands into pockets, looking half his usual size.

In an instant, her mood drops. "What are you doing here?" she hisses, her tone is nastier than she intends—not that she wants to be friendly with him.

Howard blinks as if he has been slapped. "You've been ignoring my calls." He says slowly and timidly.

"I've been ignoring everyone," Maddie counters as she folds her arm across her chest.

"Yea, I know."

Maddie's eye twitches. "I take it you spoke to the others. Comparing notes?"

His eyes go large. "No." He inhales deeply and exhales slowly. "No. We're just worried. Can I come in to talk?"

At first, Maddie almost slams the door in Howard's face, her nail digging into the wood, but spotting a neighbor peeking her head out her door in a sneaky attempt to listen in—f*cken noisy neighbor-, she changes her mind. She also can't deny that she's curious. What exactly did her brother go through? Was it only mental abuse? What was Howie's part in this? How can he say he loves her when he hurt Evan? "Fine." She bits out, as she moves to the side.

Howie, hunched over, thickly swallows as he steps pass her into the apartment. He doesn't stop until his legs hit the sofa, his back to her until she closes the door. "Tha-"

The Elder Buckley doesn't let him get the word out. "Don't thank me. Don't read into this. I just want to know what you did to my brother."

Sadness flicker across his eyes. "I didn't do anything to Buck." He protests a little too loudly before he bits down on his lips. Taking a deep breath, he brings his hand to his face and holds the bridge of his nose. "I just didn't-"

Maddie nails him with nasty glare. "You just didn't what?! Didn't stand up for him? Pretended it wasn't your problem and ignore him? Allowed him to be torn apart? Please tell me what you allowed to happen." She isn't sure what Howard, who physically recoiled, expects from her, but he isn't prepared to deal with her anger. Maybe, he expected her to have cooled down after 7 days, but oh boy, he's dead wrong. Her anger is worse. Each day that goes by without a call or message from Evan feels like a punch to the throat and her anger doubles.

Howie lets a pained howl. "I… I… I'm sorry. I was a coward I know, but I just-"

"Stop," she snaps. "I don't want your excuses. This is my brother we're talking about. My brother! How can you say you love me when my brother was suffering?" Her chest is tight, her world spinning.

He stands impossibly still, heavy shadows under his eyes. "I was scared, Maddie." He takes a deep breath, hesitating. "This isn't an excuse, but…" He shakes his head, a bad taste in his mouth. "I was having flashback to when I first joined the 118, pre- Bobby. No one wanted me there me there. I was treated less than."

Maddie buffs out her chest. She has heard the stories, Howie explaining how some former 118 members treated him like trash and was forced to stay back in the firehouse. She's sure some of it is mirrored, but that doesn't douse her anger. It makes it worse. "Is that supposed to make it better? Evan's my brother. And he wasn't abused by a random person. He was treated like sh*t by his friends and his family. His pain was ignored. No, wait. It wasn't ignored. You – the entire station—instigated it. Evan's a social butterfly, who thrives on positive attention. He lives off physical contact and you all stole that from him."

"Maddie." It's followed by a wounded cry.

"So, no. Don't compare the two." Maddie would never downplay what Howie and Hen went though, both mistreated for who they are, but it isn't the same. It isn't. "Don't use that as an excuse."

Howie closes his eyes. "You're right. It isn't the same, and I should've stood up for Buck." Hindsight is 20/20.

…But Maddie's heart drops, a realization hitting her. She has no idea if he's saying this because it's what she wants to hear or if he means it. Her heart constricts…she can't trust him. Can't trust he means it. "Yes, you should've, but that doesn't change anything. I can't look at you the same knowing you sat back and let Eddie and Bobby…" She takes a deep breath. "…d-degrade my brother and did nothing. Do you disagree?"

It looks like Howie is about to choke before he painfully gulps and says, "It wasn't like that."

Maddie, lightheaded, doesn't want to ask this, but she needs to. "How was it? Did…" She pauses. "Did it get physical?"

Howard is taken back, his eyes large. "No. NO!" He protests. "There were a few times that Eddie got really angry that-" he fiercely shakes his head. "I wouldn't have let it get that far. I promise you that."

"Your promises mean nothing." She snarls. "What mentally draining insults did they throw at my brother?"

When Howard doesn't answer, she knows she's on the right track and wants to push for more, but she can't. She can't visualize her happy go lucky brother losing his spark. "Tell me how my brother was shunned while you stood by and did nothing." Something breaks in Howard and tears fall, which makes Maddie angrier. "And you didn't tell me. I understand—though it breaks me—why Evan didn't. He was thinking about me, putting me first! He wants me happy, which no one was doing for him! You-" She pauses a jagger finger at him. "—couldn't even tell me. Why didn't you tell me?! Why didn't you tell me?!" Tears are running down her face.

A visible shiver runs down his back. "I don't know. I don't know." Howard repeats. "Too ashamed. Too scared."

Maddie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Why did you come here? For my forgiveness?" Her heart skips a beat. "I'm sorry, I can't." She doesn't even want to give it to him.

Howard hides his face in his heads for a second before he works up a nerve to peep out over his hands. "Tell me what I have to do. Please tell me what I can do."

"Unless you can bring my brother back? Nothing. There's nothing. The very sight of you makes my blood boil." She closes her eyes and forces herself to breath. "Please just leave."

"M-Maddie." He chokes on a sob.

"I don't know what else you expect, Howard. My brother is gone, out there alone." Maddie doesn't even know what she wants. She can't think straight. "I can't do t-this. I can't…do u-us." While she's pissed, she doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want to ask for a break. Howie is her home. Evan gave his all to protect her relationship with Howard. "Please just go."

His shoulders drop. "Okay, I'll leave. I'll wait however long you need. I will-"

"There's no us without Evan." Maddie cut off, hastily, finally the courage. "I don't want to hear from you until I hear from Evan." Howard's face falls, but she doesn't care. Evan may never reach out, and she doesn't care if that's fair to Howard. She's angry. "So go." Without another word, Howard turns and leaves while Maddie slams the door behind him.

Life doesn't change for Maddie after her chat with Howard. She continues to ignore the 118 extended family and works every shift she can get. This doesn't change, well not until a certain postcard comes in the mail, a postcard from the Grand Canyon, a week later. Maddie's heart skips when she traces the crinkle edges for 5 minutes, unable to find the strength to turn it over. While it's a relief, it's also bittersweet. You got this. With a deep breath and slip of water, she turns it over, her heart stopping, when she reads Evan's messy handwriting.

'Hey Mads, I'm fine. Just need time. Love you, Evan.'

It isn't what she wants, but she'll take it. Yet, she doesn't tell anyone about the postcard, not even Josh. She doesn't tell anyone about the postcards after. She doesn't show anyone the smile she has after reading the novel Evan writes on the Blue Whale postcard, even if Josh sees the little change in her. She also does not tell anyone when she sees the word 'pregnant' on her pregnancy test several weeks later.

*O*O*

Present-

Kelly, besides a moment in his life that he wants to forget, rarely goes out the night before a shift, but there's an itch under his skin. Not his normal sex itch. Just an odd itch that he can't scratch. It started the second Buck rushed out of the firehouse to float at Firehouse 40 and has hung on since. He can't explain it. Grainger is a good guy, an amazing firefighter Lieutenant, and anyone would love to serve under him, but yet, the itch. He doesn't like the idea of Buck at another station, which is odd considering he's a floater. That's the entire point of the part time position. And yet, Kelly hates it.

"Hey, you okay?" Stella asks, interrupting his thoughts, as she leans across the bar at Molly's with another beer for Kelly.

"Yea," Kelly utters, as he takes the beer she's offering.

Stella hums to herself, her eyes drifting down the bar. "If that's the case, you would be partying down there." She nods to the two giggly ladies at the end of his stare. "They've been eyeing you like a piece steak for the last hour."

Even though it has been months since their 'break up' – if it could be call that since the word exclusive was never used-, it's still odd for her to be championing for his sex life. Kelly isn't complaining per se, not totally angry at the results, as he's glad that they aren't weird around each other. "I'm aware." He replies with a cheeky smile. He spotted the ladies a few hours ago with their over-the-top laughter, but he ignored them and nursed his beer, thinking of ways to annoy Grainger enough to not request his floater anymore, which he is still doing.

"And you didn't go over and jumped right in?" Stella winks at him. "Or can you not handle two women anymore?"

Kelly rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to prove her wrong. This is their thing: teasing, daring and one upping the other. No, Kelly, not this time. He argues with himself, idea feeling particularly gross. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. "Can you?" he jests, tipping his beer to Stella.

"There's nothing I can't handle." Stella counters spiritedly while giving him a playful wink before she turns her attention to a new comer who has just walked in. "But business calls."

"Sure, sure." Exaggeratedly rolling his eyes, Kelly leans back in his chair and scans the bar for a distraction, noticing Foster in a corner booth with a woman. Judging by how touchy feely they are, they're more than friends. Not wanting to interrupt an intimate moment, he shakes his head and settle back in his chair with his beer. He-

"Glad to see her out. She's been obsessing over the floater for a hot second." Stella is suddenly back in front of him, a rag and glass in hand and her sharp stare on the corner booth.

Kelly's eyes pop up, his green eyes drilling into her. His last slip surges back up his throat and across his lips, his stomach twitching. "She… What?!" he asks, coughing.

Stella's eyes zip to him and narrow with intensity. "She's been eyeballing Buckley for a few shifts now, saying he free gain since he's a floater. I can't fault her too much." Her stare relaxes, a smile forming. "Have you seen his ass?" she snorts, turning away to service a new customer before Kelly can respond.

A poisonous bitterness bubbles up his esophagus, and it takes all of Kelly's strength to force down the physical recoil from hearing Foster's intention. Considering how Bucks keeps to himself, Kelly doubts this—whatever Foster's intentions are—will advance pass staring, though that doesn't stop the pinch in his gut at hearing it. Buck deserves more than a roll in a sack. He deserves to be treated like a king. While Kelly still doesn't know Buck's backstory, he knows it's traumatic, and he needs support, not some horny person checking him out. But he has seen Buck's ass.

The crack of knuckles on the bar top draws Kelly's attention, his glare slipping. When Kelly's head pops up, he's met with Herrmann's worried stare, Herrmann who is standing directly in front of him with a large box of glasses. "You okay?" He asks, though not really asking.

Kelly cracks a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asks, as he swirls his bottle and points it at Herrmann. "Unless you were talking to Casey?"

Herrmann enthusiastically waves his free hand at Kelly. "Not talking. He texted!" he replies, cheekily.

"Same thing." Kelly rolls his eyes.

Putting down the heavy box, Herrmann spins—a little too happily- and starts to stack the glasses quickly but gently on the shelves. "He's just worried. And seeing you nurse that beer, I can't blame the guy."

Kelly puffs out his chest and leans back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest. Of course, Casey is checking in on him. "I'm fine. Just needed to get out." He replies, feeling the two ladies' stare on him once again. "Nothing's up."

Herrmann, over his shoulder, gives him a disbelieving look, but he doesn't call him on it. "If you say so."

Even if Kelly wants to talk, he doesn't know how to explain it, doesn't know what to make of the whole situation. He just knows it starts with Evan 'Buck' Buckley. "I-" Kelly cuts himself off as the door to Molly's opens and Lieutenant Greg Grainger, with a few of his buddies, strolls in, a smile on his face. That toxic bitterness from earlier is back in full force at the sight of the grinning Lieutenant.

"Hey, what's with the face?" Herrmann asks, waving his hand in front of Kelly.

Kelly, his angry expression slipping into confusion, turns back to Herrmann. "What?" He utters, blinking, and not realizing he has gone so stiff, he forces an over-the-top smile to his face. "I have no face. All smiles." He, pretending a certain Lieutenant hasn't walked in, points to the smile on his face.

Herrmann gives him a skeptical look, but he doesn't get a chance to ask. "Severide," A voice greets from behind him.

Knowing exactly who it is, Kelly bites the inside of his cheek to keep his smile up and turns around, his beer still in hand. "Grainger." He greets, titling the beer to him.

Grainger, the fake smile going over his head, slips in between two bar stools and motions to Stella, who smiles when she notices even though she is with another customer. "Herrmann," he greets with a nod. Most of his buddies take a seat at a table, but one follows suit and lines up next to Grainger.

After stacking the last glass, Herrmann drops the box and kicks—a bit too hard- it down the bar before he turns around. His eyes, calculating, bounce between Kelly and Grainger three times before settling on Grainger. "I hear Buckley floated at your station yesterday. How it go? Think you will offer him the spot?" Herrmann asks, unaware of the can of worms he just opened.

"Kept to himself and stayed out on the apparatus floor the entire night like a weird loner," the buddy shots out, nonchalantly.

Kelly's eyes narrow, his hot stare on the side of Grainger's face. If his eyes were laser, the lieutenant would've drilled a hole in the side of his face. His left hand drops to his side and balls, nails digging into his skin, as he attempts to snuff the misplaced bitterness. In Grainger's defense, he looks just as stunned as Kelly feels at hearing it, but that's meaningless to Kelly. All he hears is that Buck alone on the apparatus floor cleaning and he's pissed, everything red. "And you just let him," he snaps, as he slams his beer on the countertop, the bottle splintering. A stream of golden-brown floods out from the shattered glass.

Heads turn at Kelly's irate outburst, his voice echoing across the room, and not wasting a second, Stella, eyes wide, makes her way over. Herrmann, his worry masked by a small smile, is ready to climb over the bar as he leans over the bar between Kelly and Grainger. "Hey now." He states a little too loudly. "Hey now. We're all friends here."

Grainger shoots his buddy a sharp look before he turns back to Kelly, bending around Herrmann, who's feet are practically off the ground. "Severide, that isn't-"

Kelly knows if he stands up, this will escalate to a physical fight, even if he stands to avoid the beer dipping from the side of the bar, and he will do anything to avoid getting into a fight at Molly's, but man, he wants to. The idea of Buck, sad and alone, cleaning everyone's messes in the middle of the night boils his blood. He will put stop to that. "Didn't think you were like other houses, putting a floater to work like that."

"Kelly." Stella calls, shock on her face.

A thick, deafening silence descends, the entire Bar stilled, as Grainger just stares, wide eye at Kelly. The confusion only lasts a second before he gets defensive, though more relax than Kelly. "I didn't let Buckley do anything. I attempted several times to get him to join us, but he wouldn't. What do you want me to do? Drag him out?" He pauses, nailing Kelly sharp stare. "That wouldn't have turned out well. He's stubborn like a certain lieutenant I know."

No, clarification is needed, everyone knows who Grainger is referring to, and while Kelly can't deny it, he deflates. Buck is a lot like him. While it doesn't change the fact that Buck isolated himself from the rest of a station, the idea that Grainger checked on the Floater settles the fire in Kelly's belly. Grainger is a decent person. Yet, Kelly still doesn't like the idea of Buck at the firehouse 40. "Sorry. Sorry." He waves off and settles back in his chair, his eyes dropping to the broken bottle. He avoids both Herrmann and Stella's heated, questioning stares as he takes picks at the glass shards.

Utterly perplexed, Grainger stares at the side of Kelly's face for 30 seconds before he turns back to the bar, his eyes on Stella. "It's…um…fine." There's a slight dip in his voice. "Budweiser, bottle," he waves. "And a replacement for him." He points to Kelly.

After tossing a towel on the wet spot in front of Kelly, Stella, her eyes still glued to him, nods before she turns to the tiny beer frig. "Got it."

"You okay, Severide?" Herrmann asks again, not stepping away. This time he wants an honest answer. He doesn't take his eyes off the Lieutenant, not trusting the man just yet, as he reaches for a small trashcan.

Kelly glances to the side, meeting Grainger's eyes. "Yea," he replies as he accepts a new—cold—bottle from Stella.

After sliding his cash across the bar and accepting his own bottle, Grainger breaks the staring contest and steps back from the bar top. He, his nailing his buddy with a warning stare, takes a big slip before he says, "Floater or not, I would not treat any of my guys differently." He pauses. "I hope you know that."

It isn't whether Kelly knows it or not—he does-; rather, it's the heart piecing thought Buck alone in the dark that gnaws at Kelly. He still can't explain why he feels so strongly over the man, Buckley who wiggled into his heart at first sight. Instead of trusting his own mouth, he brings his beer back to his lips and tilt it up ever so slowly.

Grainger glances over his shoulder at his group. "I just want the best for the kid, which I think we can all agree on."

Kelly lets out a tiny huff, as he stares down into the bottle. "Right." He swirls it. "Right." He repeats, needing to hear the word. After some self-reflection, Kelly can admit this isn't the first time he has taken a lost firefighter under his wings, though this is the first time that said firefighter has their hands wrapped around Kelly's heart. Why? Yes, all of his coworkers- his family- have some kind of hold on his heart. He would die for Casey. He would die for each of them, but this is something else.

"So that means we just gotta support the kid and show that we're there for him," Herrmann interjects, observing the small twitch in Kelly's lips. After Casey's warning about Buckley, Herrmann has been notating both their odd behavior. "Without biting each other's head off, especially in my bar." He adds, annoyance littering his tones.

"Sorry, I'm…" Kelly drifts off, as he, finger swirling, points to his head.

"It's fine. The key is not letting it get bad before you ask for help." After sliding the glass into the trashcan, Herrmann, the earlier tension gone, nods and taps his knuckles on the bar top. He looks at the two lieutenants. "You two good?" After both men nod, he turns and walks down the bar to Mouch and Trudy, who has been eyeing the scene ready to jump in if needed.

Grainger eyeballs Kelly, lingering for a moment while his buddy steps away to join the table, balancing drinks in his hands. He rocks back and forward on his toes before he settles and says, "Hey, keep an eye on Buckley's shoulder. He-"

Kelly sits up, that bitterness back. "What?"

The severity in Kelly's tone gives Grainger pause, and it takes a second to regain his thought process. "He…jammed his shoulder up during a call, saving an intelligence officer from a speeding car and me from a falling light post when said car smashed into our crush scene. Quick reflexes that one has."

A few things pass through his mind, but why doesn't he have Buck's cell number is at the top. That has to change. "How bad?" Kelly asks, slowly mouthing out each word in attempt to sound 'normal.' Getting hurt on the job is common he says to himself, but the beer on his tongue sours. He almost gags on it.

"I don't know. He hid it pretty well for an hour. I didn't notice until a few calls later, but I got him to accept the ice pack I gave him. So that's a plus." He adds. "Didn't stop him from his normal nighttime activities though."

Normally, when someone says nighttime activities, they meant something dirty, but everyone knows what Buck's nighttime activities is. Not wanting to snap at Grainger again, Kelly slaps down a tip and gets up. "Thanks." He utters as he turns to the door. If someone calls out to him, he just waves them off and steps out of Molly's.

*O*O*

Still in the funky mood from the previous day, Kelly has kept mostly to himself- Casey has rolled his eyes at him 8 times since returning to the apartment- until he spots Buck bent over in the locker room on the bench, lacing up on his boots. The sense of relief that flows through his body at the sight of Buck is unexplainable, and just like that, Kelly feels lighter, releasing the breath he doesn't know he's holding. While Grainger only mentioned jamming up his shoulder, Kelly did worry his injuries far extended that, but Buck seems to be in good shape overall. "Hey, Buck."

Buck glances up, and for an instant—only an instant-, there's a smile on his face before it disappears behind a mask. "Lieutenant Severide," he greets. "Hey." Just a tad of awkwardness leaks through.

"How's the shoulder?" Kelly asks, his eyes dropping to his shoulder.

Exhaling, Buck asks softly, "So, Lieutenant Grainger…told you?" A pause, Buck's chest thumping. "Of course, you guys talk. Why wouldn't you talk? Makes total sense." With a deep, shaky breath, he swinks, his eyes on his shoes. "I'm fine. It's fine. I can still do the job." Buck doesn't have to say anything, his body language betraying everything. He's scared.

There're a few ways that Kelly can play this, but whatever he does, he has to do it with kindness. He has to be gentle. "I won't say we talk." Kelly can't describe what Grainger and he did as talking. "His number is not in my phone," Kelly says as he takes a seat next to Buck on the bench. Like someone else. "Just ran into him at Molly's." Buck nods, his breathing slowly. "Just drinking when he mentioned it. I'm glad he did." He fumbles with his next words. "Because I care. I care if you're hurting. Okay?"

Buck's head pops up, and his blue eyes drill into Kelly's green eyes, holding this intense, heated stare for two minutes. It's like they are looking into the other's soul, their emotions on show, but whatever he's looking for, he must've seen it as he twists away. "Okay." Red blooms on his face, his eyes on drilling into the locker in front of him.

Kelly smiles, his heart still fluttering in his chest. Were Buck's eyes always that blue? God, they are beautiful. "So, tell me, Buck. How is your shoulder?" He asks, modeling Buck's pose.

"It's good, just a little sore."

"You will tell me when it isn't, right?"

At first, Buck looks like he will deny the request, his jaw mouthing what looks like a no, but "…Yes."

"Everything okay in here?" A voice shoots out.

Kelly, right eye twitching, turns to the door and holds back a groan when he spots Casey by the end of the lockers. His best friend/Roommate really does have sh*tty timing, doesn't he? Unless he does this on purpose. "I feel like you have little faith me," he jokes, as he turns his back to Buck to shot Casey a dirty look.

"Oh, because I do." Casey teases, like the f*cker that he is. There's even a cheeky gin on his stupid face. Why is Kelly friends with him? "Do you remember the time-"

Kelly leaps to his feet, his finger a pointed digger in Casey's chest. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare, Matt." Said man laughs. Oh, he is totally dead. "All the stories I can tell." Half the stories that Casey has in his arsenal are truly funny and Kelly will laugh right alongside his best friend when Casey tells them, but there're a quite a few that he does not want to see the light of day. Buck does not need to hear those ones. "Mutually assured destruction."

Casey dramatically rolls his eyes before letting out a loud, 'oh please' chuckle. "Yea, but does Boden know about who-"

"Silence!" Kelly shots out, which earns an over-the-top shrug from the captain. "Here I thought you loved me? Is it too late to get a new best friend?" He can feel that betrayal right in his soul, which he comically adds out. "Oh, the pain," he mocks, his grabbing at his heart.

"I should be asking you that question."

"That's it. I'm kicking you out." The fake pain is gone, replaced by some over the top comical anger.

Casey tries to look offend, but there's no hiding the smile in his eyes. "You'll be lost without me, Severide."

Kelly playfully gasps, his hand to his mouth in an imaginary astonishment. "How many times have I saved your ass? And this is the thanks I get?"

Just keeping back his squeaks, Casey's cheeks are red, barely able to keep down the rolling laughter that threats to explode from his lips. "Hmm," he hums. "No wonder I'm the Captain here. You're misremembering all of the times I save you. Where would you be with me?" he asks with a shrug, his hands in the air.

"I know where you would be without," Kelly snorts.

The redness in Casey's face is gone, and he is now giving Kelly a slanted but amused stare. "Oh, really?"

"Just think of all the lonely nights." Kelly teases while he wiggles his fingers in a provocative motion. "I know your bottom half…"

A shiver runs through Casey's body, and he chokes on his next breath, a mutilated cough crossing over his lips. "S-Severide," comes Casey's mangled reply.

A piecing laugh echoes across locker room, cutting through the air like a knife, and stuns both Kelly and Matt who freeze in their step. All playful jester stops. Behind Kelly on the bench, Buck, his eyes squeezed and face blood red, is tilted to his left side, almost laying down, in a fit of giggles, while he holds onto his side for dare life, a fit so intense that it must be hurting his ribs. At first, Kelly just stares, his heart tight in his chest at hearing Buckley laugh so loudly and free. He has seen tiny laughs and smiles, ones that Buck tries to hide, here and there, but man, his laugh just goes to Kelly's heart.

Kelly's breaths go hallow, his lungs failing him, as he continues to stare at Buck. He can vaguely feel Casey's eyes on his back, but he, mouth open, is staring at Buck, who looks completely different to him. The heaviness in his shoulder is gone, and the smile is so bright, it's blinding. Kelly, feeling lightheaded, wants to bottle it up. And yet, there's this fury in him, pissed that someone has taken someone as bright as Buck and turned him into that shy, closed off man who showed up at fire house 51.

A good minute passes before the laugher stops and Buck composures himself, his breathing still a heavy as he gasps for air. He looks delirious from the lack the air, as he slowly pushes himself back up into a sitting position. Soon the blood red from laughing too hard turns into a pale pink, his eyes bouncing between the two. "Um, Sorry." He mutters. "I just-"

Casey leans to the side, his eyes gentle, and says, "You're good. Just as long as you're laughing at this idiot and not me."

"Hey!" Kelly turns—sad indeed—from Buck and nails Casey with a cold, yet mischievously stare.

Buck, the blue in his eyes sparkling, looks so light that he could float away. "Well, if the s-"

Kelly will never know what Buck's next words would've been as the alarm picks that very moment sound off, which earns a very strong 'f*ck you' glare from him.

*O*O*

The first call of the day is regularity easy, though a bit funny, and it takes a stern look from Kelly to keep Capp from laughing. A kid—though far too old to be sticking himself into tiny places—didn't want to go to school and hid in a side loading washer. When Squad 3 arrives on scene, the mother is screaming at the boy, not a once of fear or shame in her. Kelly winces at the amount of tension in the room, the father hiding behind a door, but he ignores it and gives out orders, his voice softer than normal. The boy is so jammed in that they have to take the washer apart, which has the mother boiling. Kelly has to stand between Buck and the mother, as he takes out the drill gun. Once they're back in the truck, Cruz jokes about calling CPS because the mother is going to beat the living sh*t out of son.

The second call, in a long busy day, is minutes after the first call is cleared: a nasty car accident between two hot heads, who get into a fist fight seconds after Squad 3 frees the second driver. The third call has everyone, including Buck, laughing as there's a teen trapped in every possible playground equipment. A group of kids decided to play hooky and got trapped; Kelly suspects drugs, but that doesn't change his job. He has some teens to free. Two are trapped in the baby swings. One is stuck in a closed slide, the teen too big to slide through the tube. One climbed in the famous Corkscrew Climber and got stuck, this one whining like a big baby.

The fourth call is a fire at a medium sized office building, and all of 51 is called. Chief Boden's voice booms over the radios as they search the building, giving them a time limit. Kelly splits Squad 3 up: Cruz and Capp together searching the bullpen, and Buck with him searching the personal offices. While no fire is ever 'standard', they move quickly through the building like textbook, escorting out several employees in a matter of seconds. The problem arises when they come across the final office to clear, the entire door frame melted, and it will not budget for anything, the doorknob gone.

Before Kelly could tell Buck to move, Buck rams his right shoulder—yes, the right shoulder- into the door, when a woman screams from the other side of the door. It takes Buck, his eyes hard, two tries to break down the melted door, Kelly's shoulder aching at the sight of it, but Buck masks the pain and, without missing a beat, takes the woman full weight. Kelly moves pass him and does a quick sweep of the room before radioing the building is clear and following the Floater out.

*O*O*

After the fire, the calls slow, and the house is able to enjoy some downtime. Night has fallen and dinner is pretty much a free for all, most settling for sandwiches. It's too late for anything complicated, and no one wants to wait. "I'm starving! Move out of my way," Mouch shouts.

"Oh, hold your horses. Missing one meal isn't going to kill you." Cruz rolls his eyes.

Buck's eyes dart across the floor, eyeing the grumpy hungry frown. "Well," he starts, a small shake in his voice. The hope in his eyes is intense. "Skipping a meal can lead to gain weight when we return to eating our usual amount of food."

Kelly's heart constricts at the open expression on Buck's face, his fear written on his face. He recognizes this for what it is: Buck is putting himself out there. While Kelly knows 51 won't leave Buck hanging, he will make sure it won't, not when Buck is finally speaking. However, he worries for nothing.

"Wait. Wait. Wait." Cruz shots out, his hand out. "I can't gain any weight. This body is prefect. Everyone out of the way!"

"Your perfect body? Look at this!" Mouch motions to his body, proudly puffing at his belly. "This is perfect."

Brett comes on behind Buck and gently grips him by the elbow. "Are there anything else we need to know about missing a meal?" She hums, while giving him a large smile.

Unlike with everyone else, Buck does not pull away from Brett. "Your blood sugar decreases, which makes it harder to think straight."

"Okay, we definitely need to get some food into Gallo then."

"Hey!"

A playful chatter erupts as it becomes a competitive challenge of who gets the first sandwich, the sandwich to save their 'perfect' weight and their super smarts. While 'hateful' words are said, there's no heat, a smile on everyone's face. While Boden's eye twitches at the mess left on the floor from the battle for food, he doesn't say anything and leaves the room with a disapproving yet approving shake of the head.

After the mess was cleaned up, Kelly intercedes Buck, a sandwich in hand, before he can disappear down the hallway to the locker room. "How's the shoulder?" he asks.

Buck's eyes meet his, a weak lie on his tongue, and answers, "It's fine."

Kelly resists the urge to roll his eyes, the Floater reminding him too much of himself. "Buck." He warns, soft and gentle. While he understands Buck doesn't admit it, everyone on his crew needs to be honest with him.

Swallowing his next words, Buck takes a deep, shaky breath. He opens his mouth a few times before he settles with, "it hurts, but nothing I can't deal with."

Is this common for Buckley? This is the second time that he has tried to downplay his injuries to Kelly, and at first, it annoys the lieutenant because they are a team—yes, hypocritical of him. However, the scared, suspicious look in his beautiful blue eyes snuffs that annoyance. Kelly has deducted already that Buck's former friend has hurt him badly, but as Buck stares at him, distrust—which Kelly does not take personally- in his eyes, Kelly wonders if his former captain has as well. He observed how silent Buck got the first time he mentioned his Old Captain and when Boden called him to his office. Did something happen between Buck, his former Friend, and Former Captain?

One of the privileges of being a lieutenant is the ability to pull Firefighter's records, but that feels wrong. He wants Buck to trust him, and that won't help if he goes digging into Buck's backstory. Kelly has faith that in time Buck will trust him. "Take it easy for the rest of the shift and put some ice on that thing." Buck opens his mouth to protest, but Kelly cuts him off, "this includes cleaning, and I mean no cleaning, Buck. That's an order." Kelly doesn't wait for a response and heads to his office to do some paperwork.

*O*O*

Kelly isn't sure what time it is when he gets up to relieve his internal plumbing, but he can't get back to sleep, tossing and turning for a good 20 minutes. He's this close in smothering himself in his pillow, but he gives up instead and gets up. He might as well walk around the station and work out his itch before trying again. Hearing the tones of the television, he heads to the common room first. At first, he thinks someone left it on in error, which wouldn't be the first time, but this time, someone is sitting in front of it, a bag of ice on his shoulder. "Buck." He utters, recognizing the shoulders

The words are barely a whisper, but Buck whips around, their eyes meeting. "Sorry. D-did I wake you? I promise I didn't clean."

Even if he did, Kelly wouldn't chastise him, not when he is looking at him like that. Like he is waiting to be slapped. "No. Can't sleep. You?" he asks, as he slowly makes his way over to the couch.

Buck nods, his eyes following Kelly. "Shoulder." His response is short and neutral. "It's…" He huffs, winking, as he tries to move it, pain shooting though him.

Kelly knows that ach well, the phantom pain already making it went through his arm just at the sight of Buck. "Can I look?" he asks, lingering a few feet behind the couch.

"Um…" There's a war behind Buck's blue eyes, a life time reflected in them. "Sure."

With a single nod, Kelly, his heart deafening, makes his way over to the couch while Buck works his shirt up and over his right shoulder. Being a firefighter for nearly two decades, not much surprises him anymore, but he involuntarily winks when he spots the nasty discoloration along the skin, no doubt his rotator cuff is bruised. "I take it that's where you hit the ground." He asks, pointing to the shoulder joint, as he takes a seat next to Buck.

"Yea." Buck answers as he repositions himself on the couch, his back to Kelly and his eyes on the wall. He lets out a small snort. "Two times now."

"Casey got hit by a car on the scene. It wasn't going very fast, but still." Kelly reaches forward, his fingers hovering over the skin. "May I?" he asks, nervous.

Buck thickly swallows, the gulp going through his entire body. "Y- Yea." He breathes through his nose. "Since Captain Casey is walking around, it couldn't have been too bad."

It wasn't funny at the time, but looking back at it now, it's a little funny, just a little. Kelly will always find an angry Casey, cheek puffing, funny, especially when it isn't directed at him. "Yea, the car wasn't going too fast." He replies, as he tenderly put his left hand the top of Buck's bare shoulder, while his right goes to his arm. The warmness of Buck's skin is a shock to the system, and there's a warm tingle that runs up his arm, almost feeling like electricity running through him. Kelly lifts Buck's arm, creating a straight line, and as gentle as he can, he begins to move Buck's arm in a circular motion. "Good?"

"Yea" Buck fights back a wink and a whimper, his muscles twitching, as he teases, "Chicago drivers."

Kelly feels the tension in Buck relax just a tad, the warmth welcoming. "Oh, really?" He asks, playfully insulted. "Before I accept that insult, I need know where you're from."

The floater tenses a bit before he breathes through it. "I've been everywhere. Originally from Pennsylvania, but spent the last few years in LA." The words are a battle, Buck forcing them out.

The tone, which enforces his previous theories, strikes Kelly, but he isn't going to push on it, when Buck is ready to bolt. "Wait, you're judging us Chicagoans when you came from Los Angeles? Nope. Nope. Denied." He laughs as he switches the direction that he rotates Buck's arm. He can feel Buck's pounding heart beat under his fingers.

"Well, considering…" Buck, the tension gone, drifts off, allowing Kelly to fill in the blank.

Unaware of what he's doing, Kelly changes the positions of his hands—both hands on Buck's shoulders now— and begins to swirl his thumbs, caressing the skin ever so gently. "I think you're in denial."

Buck tilts his head back ever so softly, his breathing heavy. "As someone who has traveled this country, I can say with certainty that Chicagoans are horrible drivers."

Kelly squeezes. "I'm pretty sure Los Angeles is on every list for the worst drivers in the US. You aren't going to win this one." There's a knot at the base of Buck's neck, and still not processing what he's doing, he begins to work the knot, kneading it softly. Kelly's thump digs into Buck's back.

"We can have…" A primal grunt erupts from Buck's lips, which hits Kelly right in his core. It's followed by a long, gutted moan.

"You okay?" Kelly asks huskily, his tone dipping. Buck's moan slaps him, and a crushing heat settles down in a gut, stealing his very breath. There's no relief as he's hit by another one of Buck's long whispering groans and he squeezes harder.

"Yea," Buck hoarsely replies, as he leans back into Kelly. "I'm g-good."

Buck's voice shots right through Kelly, his blood flowing down, and-

"Am I interrupting something?"

Heart pounding, Buck's eyes—when did they close?—snaps open, and he breaks out of Kelly's grip and leaps to his feet as if he has been burned. "Nothing." He squeals, slipping his right arm back into his sleeve. Buck's eyes are squarely on the wall, as he attempts to hide the red that travels all the way down his neck. "Gotta go." He doesn't wait for a response and bolts from the room, his footprints echoing down the hallway. Kelly wants to deny that doesn't hurt, but it does.

"What's up with Buckley?"

Kelly, with more grace than Buck—though still with a taint of red in his checks-, sits up and turns to the voice. The corner of his lips twitch when he lays eyes on Emily Foster, who's lips are turned up ever so slightly. "Nothing-" The words die in his throat, his pants unnaturally tight. He isn't as warm as before, but there's still a heat in his groins and a desire in his gut. He doesn't dare look down in front of Foster, not when she is looking at him like that: her eyes in sharp points. "Nothing," he squeals, winking at his own cracking voice. He, though no way to hide the motion, reaches for the closest pillow and firmly presses it into a lap. "E-everything's good." He barely resists the urge to twitch at his uneven tones.

"Okay," Foster replies, her smile way too large.

Whatever she is thinking, Kelly doesn't want to know. Doesn't need to know. He will just sit here until his little issue goes away. "Yup," he gulps, pressing the pillow down. "All good." Ignoring it is the best for everyone. He totally did not get an erection while touching Buck.

Chapter 8: First Thing First

Chapter Text

Chapter 8:

First Thing First

A few months ago

Athena is many things, but for one and most importantly, she's a mother. A proud mother. A protective mother. She loves her kids with everything that she has, and there's nothing she won't do for them, including torpedoing her own career—something she has done a few times. She regrets none of it because her children are everything to her. Everyone who knows her knows this. She made sure Bobby—not that he was unaware—knew this when they started dating. Knew May and Harry will always come first, and she will go momma bear on anyone who threatened them.

God, she loves her kids.

The Buckley siblings are not her kids, but her maternal instinct comes out when she sees them, especially Buck. With Maddie, she was always impressed. With Buck, Athena, at first, was not impressive and was ready to write him off, but after saving that little girl, she decided to give him a chance, and with her eyes opened, she saw Buck for who he was. Buck is-was? Athena doesn't know anymore- a giant sweet heart, who wears his heart on his sleeve. His eyes shimmer, a smile blooming, under any kind of praise as if he can't believe it, and he deflates under criticism, even if he tries to wave it off. Every time, Athena wants to wrap her arms around him and protect him from the world.

It's how brightly Buck beamed under Bobby's approval that Athena starts to put it together, her heart breaking when she thinks about it. For Buck, approval means everything, bordering on an obsession, as if his parents withheld it. As if he's making up for lost time. Buck doesn't have to say a single word about his parents for Athena to reach this conclusion: he had a horrible childhood. Between the Buckley's parents not showing up at either of their kids' countless hospital stays and not one mention of the parents tells her everything.

Her blood boils when she thinks about it. What kind of parent doesn't visit their children after a major incident? Not even a phone call? If it were May or Harry, she would break the law to get to the hospital. She would jump on the next plane and book it across the country. Again, there's nothing she wouldn't do for her kid, which she reminds them of daily. May and Harry laugh it off, but by the way they meet her stare, she knows they believe it without hesitation.

So, while neither Buckley is her child, she won't let that stop her from watching over them, especially Evan, as she smothers him with some mothering love. She tries to not overdo it, as he's a full-grown adult, and no full-grown adult wants some old ass—not that Athena refers to herself as old—hovering over. Granted, Buck never shied away from it, basking in it; the smile so large that Athena feels it in her soul.

Athena's heart constricts tightly when she thinks about the lawsuit. The f*cken lawsuit. She has mixed thoughts about it. Besides simply supporting her husband, Bobby had a point: having a firefighter on blood thinners is dangerous, but sh*t, she can't stand how Bobby went about it. Why couldn't he have been up front about it? No doubt things would've been different if Bobby had an opened and honest conversion with Buck. That's what Athena can't understand. This is what pisses her off.

After the Lawsuit.

After Buck went back to work.

After Halloween.

After a few months, she thought it would get better, but clearly, she was wrong, and now, Buck is gone. Her not child is gone, and she doesn't know how to feel. Yes, she's angry, but Buck being gone hits her on levels that are normally saved for May and Harry, which scares her. When did that happen? She bounces between anger and worry, each itching to burst from her chest. However, she stuffs down all of that and goes to work. She wants to lay into Bobby that second, but both Bobby and she are on duty. The brief conversion that they had isn't enough, leaving her with more questions than answers.

Knowing their conversion won't be pretty, she, without telling them about Buck, sends Harry and May to Michael's apartment for the night. With the kids gone, the shield for Bobby is gone when he walks into their home a few hours later. Initially, she plans on having a civil talk, but the second she hears the door open, that changes. Maddie's teary puffy face, her eyes red, hunts her. "How was your shift?" she asks, her tone shocking cold, while she sits on the back porch with a drink in her hand. Taking a slip, she doesn't look back, even when his step grew nearer and louder.

Bobby, twisting the straps of his bag between his thumb and index finger, lingers in the door way. "It was…" He awkwardly drifts off for a moment before clumsily clearing his throat and asking, "I-is that what you… really want to know?" His voice drips, expecting a blow back of some kind.

Athena stares at the moon, dimmed by the lights of the city—the stars hidden-, and lets out an angry huff. "I do. I want to see if this shift was any different. Was it quieter?" She hums viciously, running her tongue across her teeth. "I spoke to Maddie earlier, and she is barely keeping it together. That girl is devastated. Is it the same for you?" She kicks her feet over the side of the lawn chair, her eyes dropping to her drink. "So, are you celebrating?" She trips over the word, the drink morphing into Maddie's visage. Her heart breaks thinking about the elder Buckley, who has been through enough already. She doesn't deserve this.

If Athena, nose flaring, expects Bobby to bend under her anger, she's wrong. He matches her irate. "That's not fair." Bobby states firmly, a heavy frown on his face. "I-"

"Not fair?!" Athena croaks, as she, her rage driving, jumps to her feet, her hands balled at her side. Maddie's pained expression disappears from her vision and is replaced by Bobby's teary face from earlier. Were those tears a lie? A lie to get her to leave? "Pray tell. How is that unfair? Tell me how treating Buck like a leaper is fair."

Bobby doesn't flinch, his entire body stiffens. Any prior remorse is gone, and he's ready for a fight. "I did what I thought was best. I'm sorry that it happened like this. I can admit that I made mistakes, but I won't take all the blame!" Bobby meets her hot stare for 40 seconds before he relents and twists away. "I may have treated him coldly, but I did not treat him like a leaper." He huffs, breathing through his nose. "I'm the Captain. I was doing my job, making sure he was up to the job. I've to do what's right for the station even if it isn't pretty."

Athena's eyes wide, her heart tightening in her chest. "Pretty?" She chokes on the word. "Is that how you describe it? Pretty?! You destroyed that boy!" Buck is not her son, but she's going to stand up for Buckley siblings.

Bobby stares, his eyes in narrow points, as he tries to judge her anger. "I'm sorry. I truly am. Looking back, I can see that I pushed too hard. I didn't mean to hurt him, but everything isn't about him." He huffs, as his right-hand flies to his face, rubbering the bridge of his nose. He doesn't say anything right away, pondering his next words. "H-he wasn't… isn't ready. He's on blood thinners." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Tell me what I should've done." He closes his eyes before he runs his hand down his face. "I couldn't take him on calls! I couldn't risk him getting hurt on a call. We can't split attention between him and the person we came to save!"

It's a valid point, no denying that, but it doesn't settle the beast in Athena. "For one, you should've talked to him! Actually, talked to him."

Bobby, eyes snapping open, huffs violently, as he begins to pace the length of the dining room. "You don't think I tried? I tried! He wouldn't listen! He never listens!"

Athena, surprised by his outburst, stands in the doorway, and silently observes him. She has rarely seen this level of rigidity in him, it only reserved when the sh*t hit the fan, and hearing Bobby's voice crack pulls at her heart strings, but the idea of Buck alone in the world breaks her heart. "No, you didn't try. You passed the buck and tried to pin it on him as if this is his fault."

His back to his wife, he halts in his step, his eye drilling into the countertop, and his brain freezing for 30 seconds before he whips around. "Don't tell me what I tried to do." He jags his finger into the center of his chest, his eyes laced with both anger and sadness. "I had to make the hard choices. Buck wasn't ready." His hands shake as he throws his both hands in the air.

The fear in his eyes stuns her, his eyes glossing over as memory replays in them. Athena's anger cracks. If this wasn't about Buck, she would take her husband into his arms and hold him tight. "He wasn't ready? Or you weren't ready?" Just as Buck is not her son, he is not Bobby's son, though there's no denying the special connection Buck and Bobby have—had. The connection that they had. (Athena shudders at the past tense.) Bobby, smiling, would deny it while Buck would make jokes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bobby bites back.

Athena knows how hard it's to fight that urge, that protective urge, because she has gone overboard with May and Harry, but-yes, that's a huge but—she will never make them feel unloved. "You were scared to let him back. Too scared to lose him. You weren't thinking about him. You were only thinking about yourself."

Bobby, his breathing heavy, staggers back as if he has been slapped. It takes a moment for him to collect his thoughts before he snaps, "I was thinking about him, every single call. Due to the blood thinners, one bad cut can kill him." He stares at her, not understanding why she can't understand this. "Just look at how much blood he lost on Halloween. I was called to the ER because he was 'just helping out.'" His voice cracks.

Stepping forward until her legs hit the dining room table, Athena remembers that call, remembers how Buck lit up at helping someone, finally being useful. She thought that things would change after that, but she was wrong, very wrong. She's boiling at being duped. "So, what's your excuse now? He hasn't been off those blood thinners for a month."

"My excuse now?" Bobby parrots back, both dumbfounded and exasperated. "That wasn't an excuse."

"My point still stands." Bobby's claims do have validity and being on blood thinners is a no go for many jobs, being a police officer for example, but that doesn't snuff Athena's anger.

Bobby's next step falters, him wobbling back and forth, before he rounds the countertop for a drink. His hand on the cabinet door, he says, "He sued the department," while opening it. Using too much force, the door flies open, banging against the wall. Bobby suppresses the flinch as he grabs a glass. "He refused to listen. He refused to take 'no' as an answer." He crosses to the stink and turns on the faucet. After filling his glass, he swirls it, sprinkling his hand with water. "…No one trusted—trusts him. No one wanted to go into a fire with him. What was I supposed to do?" He takes a deep breath, his anger breaking. "I wasn't going to risk the team… He has to build up that trust again. I can't force the house to be friends with him. I can't force them to talk to him."

"No one asked them. Just treat him with disrespect." Athena's heart breaks. Buck must've been so lonely.

"You can't have respect without trust." He pauses. "And he has to obey my rules first as well."

"Your rules?" She echoes, softly. How was she this blind? How did she miss this? If Bobby believed this, why didn't he just transfer Buck? "What does that mean? What did you do?"

Bobby stops swirling his glass and watches as the water comes to a gradual stop. With a huff, he downs it as if he's drinking whiskey, an old habit dying hard, and he says, breathing deeply though his nose, "yes, my rules. He has to learn that our duty is to the city. And he has to do it flawlessly."

"So, you broke him down every shift?" She feels sick to her stomach.

Bobby stares at her. "As a Captain, it's my job to make sure any firefighter under me is up to the task. As I can't trust him like every other guy in that house, I've to be hard on him. Sure, I've to be harsh, but he's a grown man. If he can't handle it..."

"And what about Eddie?" Athena snaps. How is Buck the bad guy here?

"What about him?"

Did she marry a fool? Athena folds her arms across her chest, a permanent frown on her face. "Eddie almost killed a man and broke countless laws while doing it. He's lucky he isn't in cuffs for illegal street fighting; yet he gets a pass? He came to work bloody." Originally, she had no interest in seeing Eddie, who was going through something, in cuff, but now, the urge is strong.

"Don't bring Eddie into this. That's different."

"How?" She bustles. When he doesn't respond, she asks, "And what about Chimney and his injury?"

Bobby puts his glass down. "Now you sound like Buck."

"And you sound like a stranger." She crosses to the countertop, directly opposite of Bobby. It's hard to look at him, who looks nothing like the man she loves. "Buck wanted to be with the only family he ever had. Do I agree with the lawsuit? No, but I know why he did it. He was fighting to get back. Why can't you see that?!" The way Bobby is with his firehouse family is one reason why she loves him. "He went to that lawyer out of desperation, wanting to be listened to."

"That lawsuit could've destroyed the house. We could've lost our jobs due to what Buck told his lawyer."

Lawsuits are messy, one of the fastest ways to nuke a friendship, but she thought the 118 was strong enough to withstand it. "I'm not invalidating your feeling. I understand how it must've felt," Athena states slowly, her voice softer than before. "I'm simply fighting for Buck! His feelings are valid too. That boy is hurting. Why is that hard to understand?" She marches to the line of photos on a side table and picks up one. Her heart grows as she states at it. Shaking her head and her frown returning, she crosses back to Bobby and shoves it into his hand. "What happened to people in this photo? What happened to make you not care? …Unless you don't care."

Bobby's hands shake as he turns the frame over and promptly chokes on his tongue, grasping as a smiling Buck stares up at him. His heart pounds in his ear, his lungs failing. "O-of course, I care!" he shouts when he finally catches his breath. The photo was taken prior to the fire truck bombing and is one of the last ones that Bobby and Buck has taken together. In the photo, Buck is leaning against Bobby, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, and laughing at something Bobby said. Bobby, grinning, tries to keep him up.

Athena's heart softens at the heartbroken frown on Bobby's face. Is she getting through to him? "Then how did we get to his point? How did we get to the point that Buck runs away without a single word?" It's easy to deny it, but saying it aloud breaks something within her. "He's gone. Apart of our family is gone." Buck is not her son, but it feels like a part of her family is gone.

"Athena…" He utters, his breathing shaky.

She stares at him, eyeing the quiver in his shoulder. "Do you finally realize what your words and actions did to Buck? That your words ripped him apart."

"We-I didn't b-bully Buck." He protests strongly, though there's no masking the shudder that runs through his body. "Y-you're twisting my words."

"Did you have one conversion in the last few months that wasn't a critique?" Athena is a bit surprised at his shock. Is he acting stupid? Or is he just clueless? "So, you and the entire house didn't coldshoulder and criticize Buck, a man who has been shunned and abused his entire life? And he left on his own?"

"What?" His voice dips.

"You never wonder why Buck never talked about his parents? His childhood? Or why the hell they never showed up at the hospital for him or his sister? Never wondered about Buck's past? Or why he only shared a few pieces of his life?" She pauses. "Did you even know him?" She knows she shouldn't judge Bobby too hard, considering she never asked Buck about his past either, but did they need to? That boy screamed 'Mommy/Daddy issues.'

A few minutes go by, his mind spinning. The glass slips from Bobby's hand, shattering when it hits the floor, as he stubbles back, his back smacking the sink. "…I don't know."

Athena's eyes drop to the shattered glass, but she doesn't move. Her mind, as if he hasn't been on her mind all day, drifts to Buck. Is that shattered glass a metaphor for Buck? Is he broken beyond repair? "Maybe, you should think about that. Think about how you tore him down. Think about how you broke him."

Bobby's body shakes beneath, and he collapses, his legs giving out. A horrifying realization passes across his eyes, "…I… No…"

She loves this man with all of her heart, but right now, she hates him and can't find it in her to comfort him through the tremendous guilt that he must be feeling. "Under the guise of being a Captain, you tormented a man who has been alone his entire life. What did you think would happen? You, Eddie, and everyone else in that firehouse tormented that boy by your silence alone. You should be ashamed of yourself."

As if he has been slugged, Bobby's cries echo out from the kitchen. "God, what have I done?"

At this point, Athena is done, but there is one last thing she wants to know. "So, what did you tell the Chief?" She knows very little, only knowing that it was an uncomfortable conversion.

"…Buck didn't tell him anything." Comes Bobby shaky voice. "He just handed in his resignation and left. Refused to sit for an exit interview. That's why Chief Hernández wanted to talk. He's baffled by the entire thing. He wants to know why a firefighter, who would turn down 7 figures to get his job, quit 4 months later. More like demanded answers."

Athena stares at the tear that rolls down her husband's cheek. "Did you tell him the real version?" A small sob rolls out from Bobby's mouth, which she takes as an no. "So, your version." She pauses as she, taking her eyes off him, turns to the side. "That's telling, don't you think? If you did what you thought was right, why not tell him?" She grimly laughs, her heart cold. "Funny don't you think? The 118 turns their back on Buck, but he protected your ass." The very thought burns her blood, and too scared to stay here with her anger, Athena gets her purse and heads out the door. She pays no attention to the sobs that erupt from her husband lips.

*O*O*

The Present

Buck barely has the state of mind to kick his boots off and toss crappy phone before he, fully clothes, jumps into the shower and turns on the cold water on full blast. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, letting the ice-cold water hit his face and roll down his body, leaving a trail of goosebumps, as he tries to numb the feel of Severide's hot, phantom, haunting touch. His skin still hot from, the ice-cold water feels like a million bee strings, and it takes everything in him not to leap out. Rolling his shoulders, he lets out a large huff, which is followed by some 'You're fine' chants.

He can kick himself for saying yes and allowing Severide to put his soft but callous hands on him, but God, he misses the feel of another person, a simple touch sending him through the roof. He isn't sure if it's because it's Severide or because he's touched starved, but he never wanted it—whatever Severide was doing- to end. He could've spent hours under Severide's hands, moaning and groaning like some f*cken cat in heat. Just thinking about turns his face bright red, and sh*t, his dick twitches just thinking about it.

"No. No." he spits, both loudly and panicky, out to himself as his hand shots forward and tries to twist the cold farther to the right, not that twist anymore. "f*ck." He utters in defeat. Leaning forward—the icily water now hitting his back-, Buck rests his forehead against the cold tile and grunts in an irritated exasperation and sexual frustration. "Dead puppies." He utters, trying to refocus his mind on something else, anything else. "Wet socks." Within 3 minutes, he's soaked to his core. A shiver runs down his spin, every hair on his body sticking up. Everything, including his boxer briefs, are wet, adding an uncomfortable wet layer to his already itchy skin.

"Dead puppies." He repeats again. Still feeling that heat in gut, he tries to force the less sexual images forward. "Old naked grandfathers with saggy balls." Any thoughts of Lieutenant Kelly Severide are dangerous, bringing up desires he has long since buried, and he can't go down that road again. He just can't. He needs to keep his head down and do his job, a job he loves. That's why he's here. That's all he wants to do, all he needs. He wants to be a firefighter, and he's going to do it with his head screwed on straight and his dick in his pants.

It takes 10 minutes before Buck's able to calm his second head and stop the tingle beneath his skin, a tingle originating from the spot Severide touched him. To make sure everything is settled, he stays under the cold stray of the shower for 20 additional minutes before he finds the courage to turn the water off. Immediately, he's hit by a wave of shivers as the cold frigid air of the locker hit him, and yet, he makes no motion to move, only swaying back and forward. He listens, feels the water droplets trickle down him—his clothes- as they bombarded the tiles in a constant motion.

"Time to move, Buckley." Buck tells himself, though he lingers in place for another minute. After a few shaky breaths, he finds the will to move, though almost falling on his face. With no traction due to his wet socks, he slips several times when he pushes back the shower curtain and steps out, barely catching himself. He bites, almost to the point of blood, down on his lip to stop the stings of curse words on his tongue. While he's unaware if the entire house is up (though it's likely as the natural light peeps through the window), he knows Foster and f*cken Severide are up, and he has no interest in explaining his wet state to them. The questions will send him send him into an early grave.

After quickly pulling off his wet socks, Buck, boots in hand- his phone in his right boot—, leaves a wet footprints as he makes his way to his temporary locker for his back up uniform. His skin tinges, his goosebumps having goosebumps, and he forces back a squeeze that is tickling his throat. His minds wanders as he starts to peel off his wet clothes, though the wet texture snaps him back. It's like he's peeling off a layer of skin, a sensation that sends willies down his spine. Buck tries his best to ignore it when he hears sudden footsteps around the corner. An intense panic and shame raise up inside of him, scaring him out of the locker room with his wet clothes.

*O*O*

Though there's only an hour left in the shift, Buck happily changes into his spare dry clothes and tosses his wet ones into the dryer after warring with himself for a good ten minutes. He's half tempted just to toss the wet clothes into his bag and deal with them later to avoid questions but considering he doesn't have a washer or dryer at his place, it's easier to toss them in. Plus, it gives him the added bonus of hiding from the rest of the firehouse and whoever those footsteps belong to. Though his skin is no longer tingling, he's not ready to face Severide, especially without blushing.

Instead, he hides here with his phone. When his phone cracked leaving LA, he originally brought a cheap flip phone to replace it, which was a blessing, as it stopped him from caving in and calling Maddie and anyone else from the 118. The sound of Maddie's teary voice would—will crack his resolve and sent him running, which scares the crap out of him, as he will end up exactly where he started: depressed and alone. Though, this time Maddie will be there next to him, which is the last thing he wants. He wants her to be happy, truly happy with Chimney.

It wasn't until he started as a floater for the CFD that he upgraded from that crappy flip phone to a somewhat okay smartphone with a sh*tty camera. The purpose of a sh*tty camera is to discourage social media posts in a complete opposition of LA Buck. In a pervious life, the social media blackout would've felt like a cruel curse to Buck, though he can't deny that it doesn't still. When you put a lot of your life on the internet, it's a hard habit to break, the urge to pick up your phone and post, but he will take that little traitorous feeling in his gut rather than the stress of constantly having to police himself. Much like an alcoholic dumping out any alcohol in their home.

Buck, his eyes bouncing between the door and the game on his phone, is crammed in the corner of the tiny room between the dryer and the wall and faces the door as if he's expecting an arm assault. No matter how many times he tries, he can't relax, and as the house wakes, this unnerving sensation spikes every he spots someone in the hallway outside the tiny room, though no one notices him. Even time Severide walks pass the door a few times, Buck's heart stops. In fit of defiant and frustration, Buck's forces his eyes down to his phone, his music pounding in his ear, and gets lost in his phone.

It's the loud scream of the dryer that draws Buck's attention from his phone, and he, mouth dry, blinks a few times, reality snapping back to him, him hiding in the laundry room. The last time he glanced up, the timer on the dryer read 42 minutes, and now it's blinking a bright zero. His brain glitching, it takes a second to mentally process that his clothes are done and for his body to catch up and move. He, fighting back his fatigue from not sleeping, switches off the screen and slips the phone into his pocket, though missing on the first few tries. The bones in his back crack painfully as he kicks himself into auto pilot and stuffs his now dry clothes into his bag.

Buck, his eye lids heavy, fights back an intense yawn, exhaustion hitting like an 18-wheeler. It's a battle to stay upright. While there've been a few times that he has slept in the bunker, he tends to stay up and rest in the common room at night if he needs. Buck doesn't have nightmares every night, but they're common post law suit, and if he wakes up in a cold sweat and a chilling scream on his tongue, he doesn't want to explain them to his fellow bunker mates. No one wants a weak firefighter, plagued by nightmares, on their team.

With a deep breath, he steads himself, throws his bag over his shoulder, and walks out of the laundry room, almost colliding with Chief Boden who chooses that very moment to walk by. "sh*t." He curses ducking out of the way at the last second, his bag slipping from his hand. His shoes squeak in protest. "Sorry." Buck spits out, not proud of the squeal that bursts out of his mouth. "S-sorry."

Chief Boden's eyes narrow in confusion and concern as he observes Buck's mini freak out. He loudly clears his throat and calls, "Buckley." Said Man's head pops up, his heartbeat in his ear and an intense fear in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Y—yea." He utters as he straights himself out.

"Surprise to still see you here." Boden's eyes are like a hawk.

Breathing out his anxiety though his nose, Buck explains, though leaving out the part of how. "Yea, uniform got wet. Wanted to throw it in the dryer before I head home."

A question lingers in Boden's eyes, but he doesn't ask it, and judging by the small shake of head and the slight upturn of his lips, he's used to this sort of nonsensical, odd behavior of the firefighters under his command. Instead, he says, "Glad, I caught you."

Buck leaves his bag on the floor for now and takes a hesitant breath, his eyes darting pass the chief and down the hallway. He sees the unfamiliar faces of the third shift, a clear sign that he was in the laundry room longer than he intended. "Is there an issue, Sir?" he asks, his attention zipping back to Boden. His throat is desert dry.

"Ferraris will be back at the next shift, which…means you're going back into floater rotation." Boden answers evenly.

Though Buck knows his spot at 51 is only temporary, his chest goes ice cold, and the air is knocked out of his lungs. Although he's still up right, it feels like someone has knocked Buck's legs out from beneath him and his stomach drops. Isn't this what you wanted? The little voice in his head taunt, but with Boden's words echoing in his head, Buck can firmly state that he's full of sh*t. Yes, his heart interjects loudly, as he delates. This painful numb in his heart is the exact reason he doesn't want to float at any house for any length of time. "Um… okay. I'll go collect my gear and…um leave." His words taste like acid on tongue, but there's nothing else to say.

"Buckley." Boden calls. "You did good. A fine firefighter."

Buck's next words just roll off this tongue like a cold and distant automated response. "Thanks, Sir." He puts an abrupt stop to his current thoughts and solely focuses on getting his gear. If he let himself feel, it's game over, and he can't let that happen here, not now. "Have a good day, Sir." He can feel Boden's eyes on him, an unspoken comment on his tongue as he picks up his bag, his hand, but Buck doesn't stop and makes his way to collect his things. He doesn't let his mind stray to Severide's green eyes.

*O*O*

When Buck first decided to stay in Chicago, he researched the best places to live, though his choices were limited due to his part time status and his money situation. Being out of work for two months while traveling route 66, his savings were—still is—running low. Plus, it didn't help buying items for his tiny apartment, his furniture locked away in a storage facility in Los Angeles. After some searching, he was able to find a one-bedroom apartment in his price range. While it isn't in the best part area and there're bars on the window, it isn't in the worst part of town (some will still consider it sh*tty) and the neighbors are mostly nice; plus, there's a laundromat in walking distance, which Buck counts as a plus.

When he first moved in, he received a few puzzled stares and accusations of being a cop (probably due to his size and race), which made conversations tense. Most of the residents don't like cops, and while Buck will never understand himself, he doesn't judge for that. But, after saving Miss Isabel Jackson—a 72-year-old elderly lady—from a kitchen fire a few weeks after moving in and everyone learning that he is a firefighter, his stock went off. Apparently, Miss Jackson, while no grandkids of her own, is the apartment grandma, and if she gives her approval, you're golden.

After that day, Miss Jackson smiles at him when she sees him and hands him an egg and bacon breakfast sandwich, which Buck takes. When this first started, he tried to wave her off, but with a stern look and a "You saved my home," Buck relented and have been taking the sandwiches ever since. Buck would be lying if he says he doesn't like it, it warming his heart each times she hands it to him.

"Oi, the fireman!" One of the teenage residents waves a floor up waves. "Put any fires out?"

"Just one."

The teen's, though he tries to hide it, face lights up. "Tell me about it."

Playfully rolling his eyes, Buck answers, briefly giving the teenage an overview, as he tosses him the sandwich. This is also a tradition that started after the famous kitchen fire, and the teenage—15 if Buck has to guess—started to hound him, shooting out a million questions, after every shift. During one of these 'morning briefing', the Teen's stomach growled like an angry cat, and without prompting, Buck tossed him the sandwich, even though his own stomach howled. From that point, if he sees the kid, he tosses Miss Jackson's sandwich to him. Anyone else would've been annoyed at the lost meal and the hypered up teen, but not Buck. He answers the 10 to 15 questions until saying, "okay, I'm going to fall over. Night. kid."

The teenage, with his mouth full, waves him goodbye and heads back to his apartment. "See ya, Firefighter."

The next few residents aren't so nice, one irritably yelling at his girlfriend to get back inside before disappearing into the apartment with her. Buck learned quickly that intervening makes it worse for the girlfriend, and though Maddie's once bruised face haunts him, he won't let the girl get hurt because he can't keep his mouth shut. However, he does let the girl know he's there if needed, though she angrily waves him off with a firm 'mind your business' before she slams the door in his face. The next neighbor makes jokes about Buck to his buddies, apparently being a firefighter is funny. Buck knows better than to correct that notion.

When he reaches to the landing of his floor, he notices a group of individual rough housing at the of the hall. He doesn't give it much thought, the need to sleep overriding everything, but he does a noticeable double check when he notices a familiar looking officer, the plainclothes from before, in the group. Buck just blinks, his exhaustion disappearing for a second, as his brain errors. Those individuals are totally anti-cop and totally shady. By shady, Buck means shady, and he has no interest whatsoever in knowing more as he's pretty sure that will get him killed. While Buck has been accused of having a death wish countless times, he truly does not want to die. He really, really does not want to die. Though he may currently not have any goals in life besides being a firefighter, he plans on living a long life.

A long, lonely life, his mind interjects. A long life with no friends… which he has no one to blame besides himself. He's the one cutting himself off from the world, from his sister. Being on his own for years, receiving no love from his parents, he thought he could handle it, and for a while, he did. The emptiness that buried itself in his heart was held back behind the excitement of being on the road, but the second, he looks up, his resolve bends. With each passing day, the emptiness doubles, and the self-doubt and the self- deprecation, are screaming at him on full blast, eating away at him.

When he joined the CFD, it got better, his heart feeling lighter. There's nothing better than putting on the gear, and just like that, his resolve is back. He's better than he has been in month, finally able to breathe. (No, he does not need a therapist!) Yet, his equilibrium is off, which he hasn't noticed. It wasn't until he floated at Firehouse 51 a few times that he noticed, which bugs the crap out of him. He enjoys living in his little bubble, his emotions hidden by his firewalls. Now, he is ball of mess with an intense yearning that he can't get rid of.

Letting him himself into his apartment, he drops his work bag and kicks the door shut behind him. With a deep sigh, he falls back against the door, his hand dropping to his side and mindlessly locking the door, as he eyes his small apartment. It's nothing like his LA apartment, which is almost twice the size, but Buck isn't complaining. Sure, the three rooms (kitchen, living room, bedroom) are small, feeling like a small box at times, and the water pressure sucks, Buck never knowing what he's going to get. The heater is temperamental with some days being sweater days. But yet, this place is more comfortable, more freeing than his old LA apartment had been in his final days there.

However, he can do without the random gun shots in the middle of the night.

Buck is so tired that he could sleep right here standing up. sh*t, he almost does, his eyes refusing to open for three solid minutes. It takes a few nonsensible mumbles to himself before he finally finds the will to move and make his way to his bedroom. He's on auto pilot and just falls into bed when his knees hit the bedframe. He closes his eyes, and while taking a large, deep breath, he rolls over.

And yet, five minutes later, he's wide awake, that overwhelming exhaustion gone. Buck's right eye twists, wanting nothing more than to sleep. f*ck. It doesn't take much soul searching for him to know why. His f*cken heart. Why does he get so attached so quickly? This is his problem. He got attached to Firehouse 51. He wants to ignore how it felt like a punch to the gut when Boden told him Ferraris is returning, but he can't. He can't forget how amazing it felt to be a part of a team. He can't forget how amazing it felt to laugh with them. He can't forget how amazing it is for someone to care.

Buck also can't forget how warm he felt when Severide touched him.

"God damnit," Buck curses, realizing he has done the exact opposite of what he planned. While his shields are still up, the cracks are showing, his desires leaking through. He is letting himself hope again, letting himself dream again. They will hurt you, and you know that. His mind supplies, his old team's critiques echoing vociferously in his head. They will always hurt you. "No, they won't. No, they won't." he mutters to himself.

There's no spot for you. Eyes popping open, Buck stares at the ceiling. "But Firehouse 40 does…" he takes a deep breath. He ignores the drop his stomach takes. "But what do you want?" He can't answer, but he will say that he doesn't want to be alone anymore.

*O*O*

Matt Casey has known Kelly Severide for over a decade, having gone through the trenches together. While there've been times where they've been at each other's necks, Matt won't change it for anything. They're ride or die brothers, nothing they won't do for the other. Though Kelly drives him nuts, Matt's life is better with Kelly in it. Yes, his stress levels are higher, and he has a heck more hassle to deal with. Yes, Matt can do without the many nights that Kelly drags him out at 10pm to some bar. (He's too old for that crap.) But Kelly is his brother, and he loves him.

That being said, Matt knows Kelly like the back of his hand. Knows when something is up. Knows when something is wrong, and he definitely can tell when Kelly has taken a special interest in something or someone. While Kelly will deny it, there's no denying how big his heart is or how he will go to the end of the earth to help those he cares about. Matt has seen this many times over. He has seen it with that lost firefighter with an alcohol problem, who Kelly helped reconnect with his former team. He has seen it every time Kelly took a young firefighter under his wing. He may deny it, but Kelly has a huge heart. You just have to get over his walls first.

However, the stuff going on with the Floater Evan Buckley is a different story. At first, Matt waves it off, because let's face it, there's something odd about the floater, and he has at times stared at Buckley trying to figure it out. Of course, he has been more subtle and less creepy about it. Nevertheless, there's a story behind those sad blue eyes, and while he wants to ask, he doesn't push, especially when Buckley is keeping a healthy distance between him and everyone else. Plus, everyone has a right to their secrets. All Matt can do is be there and make sure the man has a soft landing when he comes down. Though, Buckley may be doing so already if that smile in the common room/kitchen is any inkling.

With Kelly, it goes beyond the protectiveness of a captain or lieutenant over a firefighter beneath them. When Herrmann mentioned the incident between Kelly and Grainger at Molly's, Matt's eyebrow went into his hairline, his brain spinning. If Buckley had been a woman, Matt would've thought Kelly's interest are sexual in natural, but from as far as Matt knows, Kelly is a lady's man through and through.

And yet… Kelly has been staring at Buckley trying to figure him out, Matt mentioning HR as a joke a few times, but his eyes has dropped south far too many times and Matt could've sworn he has seen Kelly staring at Buckley's ass on more than one occasion.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" the man in question asks, as he strolls out of his bedroom, already dressed in his uniform.

Matt glances up at Kelly, eyeing the smile on his face. "What's with that smile?" Kelly is usually all smiles, but his smiles are bigger than normal lately.

Kelly co*cks his head to the side and narrows his eyes. "Why does there need to be anything up? Am I not allowed to smile?" He crosses to the cabinet, reaching for a cereal bar.

After a quick look at the clock, Matt decides against playing a million questions. Honestly, he isn't sure if Kelly knows what he's doing. Kelly seems to unconsciously drift toward Buckley, his eyes going to Buckley the second he walks into the room. A smile appears on his face. Matt knows he's missing some interactions between Buckley and Kelly, especially for Kelly to be so damn protective. According to the rumor tree (Foster telling Brett, who told him), Buckley awkwardly bolted from the room—from Kelly—when Foster entered the room.

While Matt doesn't want to believe Kelly was or is currently being inappropriate, he will check in with Buckley to make sure he is comfortable at 51. "Well, your smiles usually mean something." Matt playfully winks at him.

Kelly rolls his eyes, while pretending to be hurt. "Geez, I can't even smile." He opens the cereal bar, stuffs it into his mouth and tosses the empty wrapper into the trash. With his mouth full, he adds, "I'm heading out."

Matt gives him a look of pure disgust. "Do you have to talk with your mouth full?" Grabbing his coffee thermos, he follows him out.

"You don't have to look."

With a deep sigh, Matt rolls his eyes, asking himself why the hell he still living with Kelly.

*O*O*

Though taking two vehicles, both Kelly and Matt arrive at the firehouse within minutes of each these other, and without a word, Kelly falls into place next to Matt as they walk up the driveway. A step head of Kelly, Matt is the first to notice Ferraris as he chats with Capp and Cruz at the squad table. He doesn't think much of it until Kelly freezes next to him. The smile that Matt has spotted mere seconds ago is gone, his shoulder stiff and his jaw locked. Matt, worried, stared at him. "You okay?"

Kelly huffs. "Yea."

Matt doesn't have to expert in kinesics to spot lie. He narrows his eyes, observing the small twitch in corner of Kelly's eye. "Is there something I should know, Severide?"

Suddenly as if the hard stare was never there, Kelly turns to him and smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Everything is good." Abruptly, Kelly turns to his squad. "Tony!" he yells, his hand waving in the air, as he makes his way over.

Matt doesn't move and watches the interaction between Squad three—Kelly more specifically. While his best friend is smiling, patting Ferraris on the back, the cheer in his voice played up. This entire situation is ringing all the bells. Shaking his head, he moves his way over to the group. "Good to see you, Ferraris." Matt greets. "How is everything?"

"It was touch and go for a little bit, but my mother is good now." Ferraris answers, all smiles. "I'm glad to be back at work. Missed you guys."

"Oh, really? Even this guy?" Casey teases, as he grabs Kelly by the shoulder and squeezes. While not unexpected judging by his earlier frown, Matt is stunned by how rigid he is. Something is definitely up.

Kelly rolls his eyes, while Capp goes, "You're lucky. Severide would've given your spot away to the Floater if you didn't show up."

Cruz laughs while shooting out, "Still not too late. I'll trade him for one of you."

Kelly's right eye twitches, though Matt is the only one to catch it. "Don't worry, Ferraris. You're stuck with us." Kelly teases. "Let me put this away and we can catch up." He turns and leaves.

Matt lingers back and studies the weight on his best friend's shoulders as Kelly disappears down the hallway before he follows. When he catches up with Kelly, he's sitting across from his locker, mindlessly staring at his name. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

With a deep breath, Kelly reaches forward and opens his locker. "Nothing. I'm fine." The aura surrounding him is dark and gloomy.

Not sure of what to make of it, Matt goes about his daily routine, his thoughts warring with themselves. A thick silence falls for a minute before he settles with, "So what's going on with you and Buckley?"

Kelly turns his head ever so slightly, the corner of his eyes in fine point. The abrupt change from smiley Kelly to sour Kelly is unnerving. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Matt doesn't bring up what Sylvie told him. "You visibly deflated when you noticed Ferraris."

"I did not. I am glad Ferraris is back." Kelly throws his bag into his locker and slams it shut.

"So, what is with the attitude?" Matt waves his hand air as he takes a seat next to Kelly, who's heated stare returns to the metal locker door. "I've known you for—How long has it been? 15? 16 years…" With a light shake of his head, he pauses and smile. "We've been friends for a while, so I know when something is bugging you. What's up?"

At first, it looks like Kelly is going to ignore him, but random words fall out of his mouth. "I… Just…I…" He shakes his head before letting out a harsh huff, which sounds like a groaning growl. "Buck." He spits out. Matt doesn't say anything and waits for Kelly to finish. "Other houses will used him. They won't stop him from cleaning the entire station by himself. He's going fold back into himself. I know you see it, especially with all of your..." He waves at Matt.

"All of my what?" Matt gives a look, one eyebrow raised. Kelly gives Matt a 'I'm not stupid' look that telegraphs exactly what he means. A look that Matt can only laugh at because it isn't his fault that Kelly goes to a level 10 when he has his mind set on something. "Listen, I just wanted to make sure Buckley isn't uncomfortable. I didn't want him to feel like he can't tell you no, being a Lieutenant and all."

Kelly's entire right side twitches, his stare cold. "I don't even know how to respond to that. I would never-"

Matt puts his hand up in a 'I come in peace' motion. "Listen," he interrupts. "You know I love you. You're like a brother to me. No, you are my brother, blood be damn. But you got to admit that you're intense at times, and I've seen Buckley flee from the room more than once. I just want to give him space if needed."

Kelly's heated stare dies away, his eyes dropping to his hand. "Before, you said it isn't our business, but you got to admit that something is up."

"Yes, I can admit that." Matt is still firm on the fact that he will not force anything out of Buckley, but Buckley's story does matter. Damn good floater or not, it does matter.

"Are you curious now?"

The tone in Kelly's voice feels like a slap, and while he hates to admit it, he knows Kelly was right. "Yes."

Kelly nods, accepting that. "So, do you think any other house will care? Probably be-"

"Listen, Grainger is a great lieutenant. He won't stand by and allow that." Matt interjects. Kelly snorts. Again, he wonders what's going on in Kelly's head. "Buckley will do well in at-"

"Bullsh*t." Kelly interrupts as he abruptly stands. "Buckley did the exact same thing: cleaned the entire f*cken station. Well intention or not, this is over Grainger's head." He doesn't wait for a response and walks right pass Matt and out of the locker room.

Matt just stares for a moment, his mind going to Buckley. He replays every memory, every conversion, of the floater in his head. Needing to figure what's going on with Evan Buckley, he takes out his phone, scrolls until he sees Grainger's name, and presses dial. First thing first, he needs to see if Kelly is right and then speak to Chief Boden.

Chapter 9: Aftermath

Chapter Text

Chapter 9:

Aftermath

Los Angeles

Chief David Hernández is exhausted both mentally and physically, feeling like he has been running on empty since Firefighter Evan Buckley resigned. Bring up the very name earns a woeful sigh from him and a mixture of bitter emotions among the white shirts at city hall. Some are extremely glad the lawsuit menace is gone without dropping a single dime, while others don't care. Firefighters quit every day for a multitude of reasons, and it's no reason to bat an eye, even if it's Buckley. Yes, there're a few that do question his sudden departure. Though, they're more worried about another lawsuit due to a likely hostile work environment shaped from the lawsuit than Buckley's emotional turmoil caused by the said hostile work environment. Yes, as a Chief, he will do anything to avoid a lawsuit, but as a firefighter, he won't stand for any cruel treatment of someone who puts on the uniform.

After the first conversion with Captain Nash that went nowhere, he has been keeping a very close eye on the house, which he has been cleared about with Nash. If the Captain was originally upset by it, it didn't show, though it, at the time, could've been masked by the shock of learning Buckley had resigned. However, Nash's cold stiff form has not changed in Hernández's weekly visits to the 118. He isn't sure if it's because of his presence—his presence jarring after a while-, or if this house is always this tense. Hernández lends toward the later as the rumors started after the lawsuit with the latest ones being completely damning.

"Captain Nash," Chief Hernández greets when he states through the hanger doors.

The Captain, a permanent frown on his face, appears to have been waiting for him at the front of the trucks with the clip board in his hands. "Chief Hernández, is it time that time of the week already?" He asks with a smile, though his tone suggests otherwise.

Hernández's eyes leave Nash and bounce around the station, taking note of the 'problematic' members. There're quotation marks around problematic as he doesn't have proof, only rumors, but judging by the stiffness in the air, there's no denying that something happened. It's a hard contrast to what he has heard about the 118, a family house, a joyous house. The rumors coming out of his house are both unflattering and disheartening. "It is." If it was any other house, he would've responded with some playful jest, but it isn't, and he isn't in a playful mood. "Is everything okay, Captain?"

Nash twists his head slightly to the left, his eyes going to Firefighter Eddie Diaz who's currently in the gym taking out his anger on a punching bag. Sweat lines his skin and his heavy breathing rebounds off the walls. "Yea, everything is good. Just been a stressful morning."

That draws Hernández's attention, because before he stepped into this firehouse, he checked 118's call list for this morning. Unless it has changed in the last hour, the 118's sirens have not rung this morning. Why would it be a stressful morning? "Anything I can assist you with?"

There's hesitation in his voice when Nash replies with, "…Nothing we can't handle." He tries for a smile, but it's weak, barely an upturn of his lips. "Why don't we get started?" he hums, waving/pointing toward the trucks.

Hernández makes an 'after you' motion with his hand and follows him, as he continues his morning check list. While it isn't 118's work ethics that he's after, he pays close attention, noting everything. He listens to the conversation between Nash and his team. There's an underlining tone to each voice, a struggle to keep something down. There's an uneven, bordering on backtalk with the 'I got this, Cap' when Nash asks one of his firefighters the status on the saws and blades.

If Hernández thinks that's cold, it's the icily chill between Captain Nash and Firefighter/ Paramedic Howard Han that gets him every time. Months have passed and it has not dulled. There's not a disrespectful word between the two, but there's a frosty distance between the two that cannot be crossed. Han, sitting in the back of the ambulance, keeps his eyes trained forward as he does inventory. "How's everything look, Chimney?" Nash asks.

Han doesn't twitch, not even when Firefighter/ Paramedic Henrietta Wilson rounds the back of the ambulance. "Good." He says, his answer short and sweet.

Wilson's eyes jump back and forward between Han and Nash before settling on her Captain. "Everything is good up front, Cap." At first, there was an icy barrier between Nash and Wilson, but it has lessened with each visit.

There's less tension in Nash's shoulder when she's around. "Good." He nods, checking it off on his list.

With that, they continue—Nash checking each task on his list while Hernández observes the fire house. Nash avoids Diaz like the plague, or rather, he expertly keeps Hernández away from Diaz, the anger rolling off him. So strong that it saturates the surrounding area, souring the air. There's a story there, but no one makes a peep about it. Everyone is extremely tight lip, which frustrates the Chief. From the rumors, he knows Diaz is in the middle of it. Like he has done for weeks, Hernández ponders this (as well as other things). Is this why Buckley left? Choking under the impenetrable wall of anger? Is this toxic anger the aftermath of Buckley leaving? Or is this a combination of both? Lawsuits will burn every bridge to the ground, this house an example of that. Why did higher ups agree to putting Buckley back in this house? They should have transferred him.

After finishing the Captain's rounds, Hernández and Nash find themselves in his office, the air less toxic. "I see things haven't gotten better." Hernández doesn't take a seat, and neither does Nash, though he does put the desk between them. "I think it's time to change things up."

Nash keeps his eyes trained down on his paperwork. Swallowing deeply and painfully, it takes a second to answer for him to answer. "Not yet. The house just needs…" He searches for the right words. "…time."

This isn't the first time Nash has said it, though Hernández believes it less with each passing week. "And Diaz?" He has brought up Diaz many times. "Hitting that punching bag far too hard for my liking." He had pulled the file on each of firefighter in his house months back, and a few flags caught his eyes.

That gets Nash's laser eyes on him. "I'm taking care of it."

Hernández doubts he is 'on it'. "I'm recommending therapy. By recommending, I mean mandatory." He should've done this sooner. He has mentioned it before but left it up to Nash to decide.

"Understood."

"I think it's time to rotate the crew around."

Nash exhales deeply, his entire chest deflating. "I don-"

"I let this has gone on for too long. No house can function like this. You know this." They had this conversion before, but each time, it goes nowhere. Granted, this time, he has Firefighter/ Paramedic Howard Han's transfer request in his hands—or rather on his tablet. In his email, he mentions his attempts to hand it in to his Captain, but Nash has denied it every time. While he normally does not care for the love life of a firefighter, Han is—was?—dating the sister of Evan Buckley, who started all of this. It adds a layer to this.

For the first time, Nash's heartbroken exhaustion shines through his eyes. "I know. I know."

"No, you don't know." Hernández denies, coldly. His cold tones stun Nash. "You're lucky I'm giving you the option." Nash is extremely lucky indeed. Buckley left for a reason, and if he had proof of any misgivings preformed under Nash's roof, Nash would not be in this office. Right now, the chief just has his imagination to rely on as there's no formal complaint on the books. "If I had any proof of officer misconduct from you, you would've been removed from duty."

"I am aware." Nash freezes, his hand tracing the edge of his desk. "I-I only want what's best for the house," he replies, his voice cracking. Maybe, he is aware of how lucky he is, the dip in his shoulders as confirmation. "I-" He shakes his head, his words lost on his tongue. With a deep sigh, he takes his breath and continues what he's doing. "We just need to work through this."

Hernández watches Captain Nash, his footsteps heavy, move around his office, filing away paper work, for a few minutes, before he adds, "I received several transfer requests." He doesn't mention who. "As you have denied them all."

Nash stiffens, unable to mask the dejected look that flashes in his eyes. It ages him by ten years, putting bags on his face that weren't there seconds ago. "Time. We just need some time."

"This house is in trouble, Captain, and I don't think that's going to change any time soon. Time to course correct. If you cannot see that, I'm seriously doubting your ability to captain." While Hernández doesn't hold Nash (though he understands how the house can be tense after you sue your coworkers) to a high regard, he hasn't intended to be so harsh with the Captain.

Nash lets out a painful cry, "I know. But I can't…" He shakes his head. "We just need some time." He restates.

How many times is Nash going to mention time? Time cannot fix this. "I think it's time to knock it down and rebuild."

"Sir, I-" Nash doesn't get to finish, a loud, thick knock on the door interrupting their tense conversion. A heated argument has broken out between Diaz and Han, nothing physical, but it's only a matter of time judging by the raw anger in their shrieks, and they are needed on the floor immediately. Hernández follows closely behind Nash as they book it down the steps, the sight reconfirming his beliefs that it is time to shuffle these firefighters.

Wilson is between them, though closer to Han than Diaz. "Stop it! We're family here!" She yells.

"Family?" Han snarls, his voice screeching. "Buck's gone. Maddie, who's pregnant with my child, is barely acknowledging me. T-this house…" His voice creaks, his words drying on his tongue.

Diaz, his cheeks blood red, is removing the wrappings from his hands, his breathing heavy from his recent visit to the station's gym. He's attempting to keep calm, though not very successful. "You don't think anyone else is suffering or regretful? Christopher is devastated." His anger breaks for a moment, a shudder running through him. "It's Shannon all over again."

"That's your fault!" Han screams, his throat hissing in protest. No doubt he will be hoarse.

Diaz huffs through his nose and roared, "How is my fault?"

Han shots him a look of utter disbelief. "You should look in a mirror. You were his best friend!"

Not one punch has been thrown, but Diaz staggers back like he has been. "I don't-"

While Hernández is interested in day-to-day interaction in the 118 and will learn more by these heated words, he does not want this to play out. He may not believe it's possible to fix the cracks in this house, but Captain Nash does, and if a fight breaks out, that hope is dead. "That's the enough," Hernández bellows, his voice echoing across the floor and bouncing off the wall. Everyone freezes, heads turning. It's one thing to get lectured by your Captain, and it's another to get a Chief irate. "What's the hell going on here?"

"A…misunderstanding," Diaz breathily chirps, as he nails Han with a sharp, pointed stare. Judging by the twitch in Han's right eye, he does not agree, but he doesn't say anything.

"A misunderstanding?" Hernández echoes. He resists letting out the irritated chuckle that has buried itself in his throat. Without Buckley's side, that's all he has been hearing lately, which gets old after a while, especially when the house is second from turning on itself. "You know what. Everyone, line up." He gives them each a heated stare. "Now."

Quickly, everyone lines up, each shooting embarrassed looks at Nash. "Chief Hernández, I can handle this." He says, just as the final person makes it to the line.

"I doubt that." Hernández repeats, as he steps to the center of the line, his eyes on Wilson. "This is a problem house, and as lives hang in the balance, we can't have that. For far too long, I've stood to the side, but I'm no longer willing to do that." His phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. He ignores it, his anger coursing through his veins. "If we cannot curb this resentment, things have to change. This includes staffing for the 118." He clocks the cold stare Han shots at Diaz and Nash, something telling in their looks.

"Sir," Wilson shots out. "We just-"

"That's better not be an excuse." Hernández cuts her off. "There's no excuse for what I just saw. None at all. Personal sh*t needs to be kept outside." He pierces each of them with a 20 second penetrating glare, a 'I f*cken dare you' stitched into them. "We have to be better than this. We must."

Nash clears his throat. "We will. This won't happen this again." He gives each one of his men a stare of his own.

Hernández doesn't believe that for one second. "I can-" For the second time, his phone vibrating in his pocket draws his attention. Now is not the best time to be taking a call, especially when he's dressing down row of firefighters, but being a chief, there're calls he cannot miss. "Excuse me. Let me take this." He states, as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. "I will only be a minute." He flicks the screen on, an unfamiliar area code stretching across the screen. Surprise graces his face as he brings the phone to his ear. "Chief Hernández." He huffs.

"Sorry, Is this a bad time?"

After taking a deep breath, Hernández shakes his head and hastily replies, "No. No. It's fine. May I ask who I have the privilege I have speaking to?"

"Chief Wallace Boden, Chicago Fire Department."

"Chicago?" Hernández recites, vaguely aware of the eyes on his back. While it isn't abnormal for fire department from other cities to call, it isn't often to get one so far away. "How can I help you, Chief Boden?"

"I have a former LAFD firefighter under my command and was told you were the person to talk." Boden answers, his voice smooth with a hint of irritation. "Evan Buckley. Is now okay to talk?"

Hernández has to restrain himself from speaking Buckley's name aloud, especially when he's standing inside of the 118. He turns over his shoulder, his eyes falling on Han, Wilson, and Diaz. Now is not a good time, but he needs to get to the bottom of his Buckley business. "Yes, it's the perfect time. How can I help you?" he replies, wave at Nash to continue without him. Walking toward the entrance of the firehouse, he adds, "I know Evan Buckley well."

*O*O*

Chicago

Kelly has been distracted for the last two shifts. His mind sharpens whenever he's on a call, the sounds of siren kicking him back into gear, but the second he has a moment to spare, his brain glitches. Casey's words haunt him, his mind unable to comprehend that conversion from the locker room. He's aware that he has been… Okay. Yes, he has been over the top with Buck, but he can't help it. Those pretty blue eyes and that sheepish, nervous smile just brings it out of him. No one should look that sad, no one.

Yet…

Has he been inappropriate? Pushing far too much? Has he ignored Buck's boundaries? Has he been uncomfortable the entire time? No, that isn't right. Yes, Buck has fled from the room the multiple times, which Kelly doesn't take offense to, but Buck lets him call him Buck, Kelly being the only one given the honor. Plus, they cooked together, twice if you count the eggs. Surely, if Buck has been uncomfortable, none of that would've happened, right? Right? God, the very thought of Buck being physically uncomfortable by him makes him sick. He would never want to make anyone uncomfortable, especially Buck.

Kelly replays every interaction in his head, every single twitch, and every single conversion. He goes over every facial expression, though his mind errors on Buck's smiles. His blue eyes sparkle like a million stars when a true smile graces his face, and Kelly knows he has seen them. He knows he has! They're rare, but Kelly is already addicted to them…

Wait what?

This isn't the first time, Kelly's mind has… That he has… Okay, Kelly doesn't know how to explain. He never has an issue noting or commenting on someone's attractiveness, regardless of sex or gender. He can admit when a man is hot. Heck, he has said it to Casey a few times, but yet, his brain stutters when he comments on Buck's attractiveness. Everything just goes blank on him. He isn't sure why. Anyone who knows him knows he is a lady's man.

Unless…

Kelly's eye twitches. That can't be it, can it? Isn't he bit too old for this? He has been having sex with women for over 20 years and not once has he ever found any man sexually attractive. (Commenting on it's different.) Even now, he can't say he fancies men… Nope not at all. They don't do it for him… but then what is Buck? Well, Buck is Buck. Kelly's cheeks go red at the thought, his body relaxing, and he feels light. He doesn't know how to describe it, no words accurate. Maybe, this sexual… wait, is it sexual? God, he doesn't know… Did you forget your erection? Kelly shakes his head, his heart skipping just thinking about it. Maybe, he's just confusing his need to protect the floater with other thing. Maybe, he is-

Suddenly, there's hand waving two inches in front of his face.

Kelly blinks, his eyes focusing on the hand. "sh*t?!" he exclaims, loudly, he leans back in his chair to put some space between him and the intruding hand. He, his heart in his throat, follows the arm up to his shoulders to the owner.

Stella, her hand now at her side, is looking down at him, a smile on her face. "I thought we lost you there for a moment."

"Um," Kelly sputters, his eyes scanning the apparatus floor. They aren't the only ones on the floor, but they're the only one at the squad table.

Without waiting for an invite, she takes a seat diagonally from him and drops right in, "What's going on in that ugly head of yours?"

Even if Kelly could explain it, he's not sure he would tell her. What's there to say? 'I'm not into men, but there may be something with Buck…' Kelly's eye twitches when he tries to define it. "Don't let Capp see you there. He will throw a fit. Squad members only." He throws on a cheeky smile though he isn't feeling it.

Stella playfully rolls her eyes as she gently places her hand on his, his eyes dropping to it immediately. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Kelly, with a large puff of air, pulls his hand away, sits back in the recliner and folds his arms across his chest. He stares at her for a few minutes, struggling to find the right words. Stella knows him too well for a lie to work; plus, it doesn't feel right to lie to her. "It… isn't that I don't want to talk. I…" He sighs deeply. "I just don't know how I feel." He admits.

Her head bobbing up and down, Stella stares at him, her eyes taking him part inch by inch, as she muses over his words. "Well, when you figure it out, let me know." She pauses, her concern expression morphing into a playful but yet devious grin. "Then we can admire Buckley's ass together. Rather do it with you than Foster."

"Wait, what?" Kelly utters, his eyes large, his heart in his throat. "I—"

Footsteps interrupt Kelly's thoughts, and Capp's voice cuts through the air, "What is this?! That's the squad table, Kidd. Not cool."

With a shake of the head, Stella gets to her feet, internally laughing at Kelly's stunned face, as she rolls her eyes at Capp. Words are exchange between Capp and Stella, but Kelly's brain just freezes, barely registering Stella and Capp bicker at each other as they disappear. His mind is in a tailspin, thoughts of Buckley once again fill his head.

*O*O*

Being a floater, work isn't steady, though Buck does get called in a lot. At the very least, he gets one shift a week, which gets him by without issue as long as he budges. Buck, like a budging king, can budge the sh*t out of anything, challenging himself every day. However, a few days after being kicked back into the floating pool, he starts to go a stir crazy, having been stuck in his apartment. Buck 1.0 would've gone to the clubs and bars and got lost in the sins of the flesh, his head clouded in that sweet aroma that only sex can produce.

Real world problems disappear when a naked body is tightly pressed against you, their hot breath tickling your skin. When the sound of skin smacking against skin echoes in the air. When there' a layer of sweat on every inch of your warm skin. When your insides tingle and constrict in an uncontrollable heat, an explosion in your gut. Buck doesn't know if Heaven exists, but God, there're times where he believes he's there, his head rolling to the back in pure ecstasy.

Sex has an aura about it that draws Buck in, seducing and setting ablaze any caution his brain tries to conjure up. Even now, after knowing the aftermath and almost losing his dream job, it calls to him, it f*cken pulsating to his core. He does everything to avoid that longing and falling back into odd habits. It's doesn't take a genius to understand why he fell into sex so easily. It also doesn't take a genius to know why falling into a stranger's bed will be a very bad idea, especially when he feels like a fraud. Granted, Buck can't lie and say that doesn't sound appealing.

Sex has always been his drug of choice. When he had an issue, sex. When he felt lonely, sex. When he felt stupid, sex. No matter the issue, the answer has always been sex. When any of his exes got mad, he would strip naked in front of them. It works good for any gender. It worked well in Peru with his violent, controlling ex-boyfriend when he had too much to drink. No, No, No. He was nothing like Doug, nothing like him, and he refuses to compare them. To do so will be an insult to Maddie, who had fought every day she was with Doug. Maddie is a warrior. Buck is not. He is a coward.

"Stop it," Buck exclaims loudly as he closes his eyes and groans. He will not think of Adrian, who will only drag him down. His ex does not deserve anymore of his attention, the man throwing the fit to end all fits when Buck mentioned Los Angeles. So no, he won't waste another second on that man… Instead, you can think of a certain man with green eyes, his mind whispers. No. No. His heartbeat flickering, Buck protests that idea far too much, as a certain pepper haired man flashes before his eyes. Maybe, you should get into his bed.

Buck kicks his feet over the edge of the bed and, with his elbow on his knees, hides his face in his hands. No breathing technique can rid Buck of the feeling that eats at his stomach when he's alone for too long. This is his pattern when he is off the job for too long, his mind playing nasty tricks on him. Buck 1.0 crawls forward, whispering sweet, false promises in his ear. Buck 2.0, who has been devastated by the 118, cannot stand a chance against Buck 1.0 and is lost in the dark the pits of Buck's conscious. No. No. No. Sex is not the answer.

His heart pounding in his chest, Buck finds himself in a war with himself, the temptation far too strong, but he can't let himself go down that road. He'll be gone if he does… A familiar child's laughter fills his head, and it isn't until the goofy smile of Christopher fills his vision that everything Buck 1.0 related vanishes. Granted, the feelings that follow aren't so nice. While that boy will always bring a smile to his face, he can't prepare himself for the onslaught of emotion that hit afterward. There're a few things he regrets and leaving Christopher without a goodbye is one of them. Like with Maddie, there's a strong urge to reach out and reconnect, yet Eddie's angry, snarling face stops him in his tracks. If Buck faces Eddie now, he will fall apart.

With a wet, shaky sigh, he gets to his feet and precariously walks to the closet. Buried at the back of the closet beneath a pile of clothes is his tablet, loaded with his old email, photos, and contacts. For the most part, he ignores it, content at the knowledge that it's there, but sometimes—like today-, he pulls it out, looking through the picture of his loved ones, including the ones who broke his heart. Sliding through his album, he stops on one, and his eyes linger on Maddie's and Christopher's smile, tracing them with his fingers. "I can't be doing this," he tells himself. "Can't be living in the past." Buck isn't sure if he is ready to move forward, but he can't remain like this. He can't.

After returning the tablet to the box and reburying it beneath his clothes, Buck grabs his phone and heads to the living room. Exhaling a large breath, he falls into his sofa and hugs a pillow to his chest. Buck's sweaty hands fumbles the phone, leaving him to chase it a few times before he is able to get a handle on it. Once he has a good hold on it, he stares down at Lieutenant Grainger's number. Grainger gave Buck his number when he mentioned the opened spot at 40, and while he was going to pass, he still took the number.

Breath in. Breath out. Bre-. "f*ck it." He curses, pressing the dial icon. Knowing if he waits any longer, he will chicken out and fall back into that black pit he was in seconds ago.

A few seconds passes, the phone ringing, before the call connects. "Grainger." Comes Grainger's rough voice.

"Hey, Lieutenant. It's Buckley… Um, Evan Buckley." Buck speaks, his voice shaky. He suddenly feels like a small child asking for permission.

Grainger skips a beat before he answers, "Oh, hey, Buckley. How can I help you?"

When he opens his mouth, nothing comes out, his throat desert dry, and it takes a few wet breathes before he can muster, "I'm calling about the spot on truck 40. Just wondering if it's still available. I…um… interested." The words just pour out of him, his heart beating a million miles an hour.

One second passes.

Two second passes.

Three second passes.

Buck's heart drops, his breath disappearing. "I-is t-there an…um… issue?" He fumbles his words.

"It's no…" Grainger takes a deep breath. "No issue. We just decided to go in a different direction."

If Buck hasn't been sitting, he would've fallen face first into the coffee table, though his heart is already on the ground. Buck, lightheaded, is struck by how much he wants to be a team. No, it isn't firehouse 40 that he sees himself with, but man, being with firehouse 51 made realize how much he has been missing. He tells himself he doesn't need a family, being surrounding by them is enough.

"Are you okay, Buckley?"

Grainger's gentle voice snaps Buck's from his thoughts. "Yea, yea. I'm good. I'll let you go now. Thanks again." He ends the call before another word is said, as Buck's feeling too foolish, too stupid, to be able to handle a longer conversion. Once again, Buck 1.0 weasels itself forward, whispering sweet words into his ear in an attempt to seduce him back.

Buck's phone slips from for his hands, bouncing a several times before it tumbles off the sofa and lands under the coffee table. He makes no move to retrieve it, as he is hit by a string of intense emotions, emotions that won't stay quiet. He feels complete overwhelmed. He has no idea when he let himself hope, but man, it feels like someone has knocked the ground out from under him and he is free falling. He-

A sudden rattle at the door draws his attention, someone knocking rather forcefully. Sitting up, Buck tosses the pillow aside and narrows his eyes at the offending noise, his mind spinning. Besides the apartment kids pranking him, no one knocks on his door. After the second rattle, this time harder and faster, Buck gets up, crosses to the door, and pulls the door open mid knock.

Buck barely registers there's a person in front of him before a pair of arms wraps around him. He considers himself a big man, being over six feet, but he feels like a child in the man's arms as he easily manhandles Buck, rocking him back and forth like he is nothing. "Evan, my man." The man greets, loudly, as his large hand smacks Buck on his back, which knocks the very air from his lungs.

"Hey." Buck manages to breath out, as he wildly stares at the man. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up and recall who this is, the intelligence Officer had saved. The same one he spotted down the hallway a few days ago.

"Why of course I would like a beer." He says, more chipper than he has the right to be. The Officer doesn't give Buck the chance to say no and walks him back into the apartment. Buck can't even object as the Officer covers Buck's mouth with his own hand and kicks the apartment door behind him. His eyes met Buck with a hard stare, an undeniable warning in them. "I missed you too, Buddy!"

If Buck hasn't known this man is a cop, he wouldn't be so compliant, as he has major issue with people touching him without permission—though specific people had blanket passes. Going off the warning in his eyes, Buck waits a minute before he shoves the man off him. His hands in the air, the man goes easy and takes a large step back. "What the hell?"

The Officer puts a finger to lips and shakes his head at Buck as he crosses to the window and draws the curtain close after a quick peep outside. "Easy, Easy."

Buck shots him a dirty look. "Sorry. I don't like being manhandled in my own home." He bristles. Not unless it is a certain… No, No. No. A smiling Severide passes before his eyes, which earns an annoyed groan from Buck. He really needs to get over this crush. The crush is probably some a consequence of Buck 1.0 being so close to the surface.

"Sorry about that." The Officer takes a step back to Buck, burying his left hand in his pocket. "Just undercover."

"How does this involve me?"

The officer, with his right hand, motions to himself as if it's the most obvious thing. "I think you can agree we don't exactly fit in here, and considering they noticed you checking me out the other day, they were…" he pauses as he shrugs. "They're skeptical of me. Thinking every white guy is a cop."

"You are a cop." Buck replies, deadpan, as he is not excited about having this man in this apartment.

The Officer grins. "And you're not. See we're on the same page. Friends already."

Buck is seriously regretting saving this man. "I'm not sure I follow."

He rubs his hand together and smiles. "Oh, we're going to be spending lot of time together."

"What?" Buck just blinks.

The officer, still smiling, crosses to the couch and, without approval, falls right into it. He makes himself right at home as he settles back and rests his arms on the back of the couch. "We're going to be best friends." The smile drops from his face, rising his arm and touching his right index finger to his nose. "All kidding aside, your neighbor down the hall isn't the nicest of guys."

Buck doesn't like how comfortable the officer is in his apartment. "What did he do?"

"Better you don't know." The Officer answer, which earns a very pointed glare from Buck. "These guys will shoot you for just looking at them wrong. I wouldn't be here if lives aren't on the line."

Buck's eyes go large. What the hell is this officer getting him into? But at the same time, Buck can't turn his back if lives are in danger. "There's are kids in this apartment! Why are you doing this here?" Buck huffs as he angrily points at the window.

The man gives Buck an unimpressed look. "Being new to Chicago, I'll forgive you, but we can't control where crime happens. This isn't Hershey, Pennsylvania. In certain areas of Chicago, just going outside at night will get you killed."

Buck, stiffened, tilts his head ever so slightly to the left, the name of his home town slapping him. "You looked into me." The idea scares the crap out of him. While he doesn't have a house—a family-, if knowledge of the lawsuit gets out, he will lose everything again. No one will want to work with him. That thought makes his knees weak.

"If we're going to be working together, I got to know who I'm working with."

"And we're working together why again, Officer?"

The officer smiles as he motions to his eyes. "You got to watch where you point those pretty blue eyes of yours. Those bad boys will get you in trouble." He pauses, settling once more into the cushions. "Anyhow, I had to come up with a story when they questioned me about you. So, me and you are the best of buddies, who has just gotten back in touch after a few years of not talking. This is why you were so surprised to see me."

That isn't the first time Buck has been told that his pretty blue eyes will get him in trouble, though he's sure the Officer doesn't mean it in the same way Eddie, Hen or Chimney did. "And how can I help you?" he asks, unsure of this plan.

"You're going to be the reason why I am in this apartment." He explains, pointing a finger at him. "A reason to visit. You don't need to worry about anything else… well unless you are asked."

That isn't what Buck wants to hear, the thought giving him goosebumps, but if this saves lives, he'll do it. No one says he has a death wish for nothing. Knowing he's going to do it, he huffs. "So, do you have a name? Can't keep calling you Officer."

"That's a good man." The officer cheers. "Adam Ruzek, but you need to refer to me as Adrian Davis."

Buck folds his arms across his chest and fully taking the man in for the first time. He's sure the man looks better clean shaved, but the man, looks almost homeless with his hair and beard overgrown. "Adrian?" he hums.

"Not my first pick." Ruzek shrugs. "But not the end of world."

Buck's not a fan of the name, but at least, it's only a cover name and Ruzek look nothing like his ex. "So, I don't have beer." While some beer is cheaper than others, beer is a bonus he cannot afford right now, and he can't spend money on bonuses.

Ruzek gives him a skeptical yet amused look. "What kind of firefighter doesn't have beer?"

"One who's on a budget."

A second passes before Ruzek shrugs. "No big deal. Probably for the best. This way we can have clear minds when we come up with cover stories."

While Buck's not a cop, he knows enough to know that the best cover stories have some truth to them, which makes his stomach twist. He isn't interest in driving into his past. "So, what you want to know?"

Ruzek pats the couch next to him. "First sit and get comfortable."

Buck's eye switches as that is his apartment, but he complies and sits on the couch next to Ruzek, though keeping a healthy distance between them. He doesn't want to be doing this, but yet, after the phone conversion with Grainger and the string of rejection still in the air, a small part of him enjoys the company, even if he was manhandled by the man. However, while Buck plays Q&A with Officer Ruzek, Buck's forgotten phone lights up, the light blocked by the coffee table.

Chapter 10: Huffing and Puffing

Chapter Text

Chapter 10:

Huffing and Puffing

Chief Wallace Boden doesn't need anyone to tell him that the floater Evan Buckley, his sheer awkwardness physically painful, is an oddball; however, he doesn't intervene until Casey comes to his office with a serious concern after speaking with Lieutenant Grainger. At first, he just listens, not sure if his Captain is off base. Just because someone is awkward doesn't mean they have a tragic life story, and he hasn't spent much time with the floater to get a good read. Nevertheless, seeing the concern in Casey's eyes, he agrees to make some calls to the LAFD.

By some calls, he means a lot. It takes quite a few, everyone going silent when Buckley's name is mentioned. Boden's not a paranoid man, but a switch is hit inside of him after the fourth time he's rushed off the phone with a nonsense line. Most would've gotten the message and given up but being passed around like a hot potato confirms Casey's suspicions: there's more to the story, and Boden pushes on. He stresses his title and rank each time, and though he doesn't like to lose his temper, he isn't particularly nice to the lady on the sixth call.

In an angry, exhausted huff, she, after muttering under her breath 'she doesn't get paid enough for this', directs him to Chief David Hernández, the district chief that Buckley's old station fell under. He expects the same bullsh*t he has been getting all day, but Hernández surprises him with, "I know Evan Buckley well."

Yet, Boden doesn't know how to take that, tone included. Depending on how large your district is, it may be impossible to know every firefighter under your command, and while Boden prides himself in knowing his firefighters, there're a few he doesn't. Besides for his officers and his Firehouse 51 regulars, the only ones he can recall are the all-stars or the trouble makers. For Hernández to know Buckley so well, which one is Buckley? "How so?" he bristles.

Silence fells, the sounds of LA rumbling in the background. "What exactly are you looking for?" Hernández finally asks, his tone not as friendly as it was before.

Boden takes a deep breath, recognizing his misstep. "Sorry for the tone, but I've been getting the run around all day." That isn't an exaggeration. "Usually that doesn't happen unless there's something to hide." He huffs. "So, is there something to hide, Chief Hernández?" He stresses the Chief's name.

The familiar sound of an old car door opening squeals on the other end of the phone. "Is that the reason why you called? Have an issue with Buckley? Trying to find a reason to transfer him?" Hernández's hesitation is audible.

Boden co*cks his head to the side, his eyes narrow. "No, Buckley is one of the best young firefighters I've ever seen. Good potential there." He isn't lying. Buckley does have potential… Only if he allows himself to thrive. He will go nowhere if he remains a floater. "However, one of my Captains has brought some concerns to my attention. I'm…" He grunts. "I'm hesitant to say behavioral as he hasn't disobeyed a single order or raised his voice in anger. He has been-"

"Been distant and anti-Social?" Hernández finishes as a car door slams in the background.

While he knows better—stereotyping does more harm than good-, Boden can't envision a six-foot man with blue eyes being so shy and awkward. Sure, your personality is not only based on appearances, but Buckley reads as a bubbly goofball with a rebellious spirit. "Yes, and he doesn't-"

"Seem like the type?" Hernández finishes again.

Boden's eyes drift toward his office door. Though the door is closed and the blinds are down, he eyes the office staff moving around the bullpen through the spaces between the slats. Connie is laughing at a joke, the atmosphere totally opposite to how he feels. "No."

"The currently Buckley is a shell of his former self." Hernández laments. "I'm kicking myself for not checking in." He spouts something in Spanish. While Boden is picking up Spanish more and more due to Donna, he doesn't have a clue to what Hernández is saying, though his anger comes over clear. "I failed him." he grumbles, switching back to English.

"What happened?"

A second goes by as Hernández chews on his next words. "About six months ago, Buckley sued the department for wrongful termination-"

The word, termination, rings I Boden's head, hitting all the wrong cords. "He what?!" he blinks, his mind spinning. Did Buckley get fired from the LAFD only to come CFD? Do they have a troubled firefighter on their hands? While the floater hasn't done anything yet, he might not be worth all of the trouble

Hernández huffs angrily. "Don't let it color your opinion. It isn't as simple."

Lawsuits are common in this line of business with people grieving the loss of their loved ones or former firefighter/EMT wanting a payout. Boden personally has dealt with quite a few, been tasked with putting out these metaphoric fires, and the very thought of a lawsuit sours the taste in his mouth. "It isn't?" he asks. He knows not all lawsuits are fruitless, but those are few and far between.

"First, you have to know is that Buckley won his lawsuit." A pause. "Or rather the city agreed to a settlement. Second, Buckley turned down the money. All he wanted was his job back."

That doesn't mean much to Boden as a settlement doesn't mean you won. A lot of departments and companies will settle to avoid the bad press, which can hurt worse than the monetary value. Without knowing Buckley's story, he can't say this isn't the case. "Why was he terminated?" Boden harshly breathes through his nose, shifting uncomfortable in his chair. He can already envision the awkward conversation he will have to have with Buckley.

"Calling it a termination isn't accurate." Hernández counters, defensively. "It was an on-duty injury."

That definitely changes things, though it creates more question. "What happened?" Boden asks as Severide comes to mind. For many—if not all-, this job is a way of life, and to have it yanked away all of the sudden is a nightmare. He has seen many firefighters go down a dangerous path in a feeble attempt to save or get their job back. He remembers the time when Severide hid his injury and got hooked on pain killers, too scared of life after firefighting.

Hernández jiggles his keys. "I don't know if you remember this, but it was national news about a year ago. A son of a convicted arsonist wanted revenge on the LAFD Captain who put his father behind bars. Threats were made, which LAPD took seriously. Unfortunately, no one thought about the fire station, and we didn't realize it until it was too late. A bomb was placed beneath the truck and exploded on a way to call, injuring all the on board. Buckley received the worse of it, his leg getting pinned beneath it."

It takes a second, but the horrific event slowly comes back to Boden, as the forgotten anger, from when he first watched the scene unfolded, flares back up. If it had been one of his guys, he isn't sure anything would've held him back from beating the sh*t out of the son. "I remember…" He says though his teeth. Though it had been a year, he replays the scene in his head, which takes on a different meaning now that he personally knows the firefighter trapped under the truck. "That kid held those firefighters as hostages for an hour." Boden can't even comprehend how traumatizing that would be, especially for Buckley.

"He was eventually talked down, and the injured firefighters received the medical attention they required. All were back on the job within a few weeks, besides Buckley. He was out for about six months." Hernández adds, sighing. While he hasn't skipped on the details, it's this distressed groan that tells Boden everything he needs to know. "This is where the detail gets a little shaky. I can't help but think Captain Nash dropped the ball as Buckley kept coming to my office to plead his case, which was weird as it was Nash who held him back. Not sure what happened there. Did Nash not explain this? However, Buckley passed all of his recertification with flying colors, breaking some records along the way."

Without knowing how badly Buckley was injured, Boden doesn't want to play backseat fire Chief. However, looking at him now, he would've never known there was a whole fire truck on Buckley's leg. "It is the captain's prerogative."

"I would agree, especially considering Buckley was on blood thinners for a pulmonary embolism."

Boden narrows his eyes. "He is still on them?" He doesn't know this Captain Nash, but he has to admit that he would agree with him. Firefighter get cut all the time, and being on blood thinners, any abrasion can be deadly.

"From my records, he has been off them for months, and normally, I would back my captain, but…" Drifting off, Hernández exhaled harshly. "He let other firefighters return to duty without having them jump through the same hoops. For example, one of his firefighters got into a car accident where a piece of rebar went through his skull and was back on the job in two months. I don't know why there was such a disconnect."

"What?!" Two months? Again, Boden doesn't want to play backseat Chief; yet-that is a big yet-, two months seem too quick to return to the job after a brain injury.

Hernández responds. "Buckley brought that up in the lawsuit as well as a few other times, aka a firefighter returning to duty shortly after his wife died in his arms while on duty. This showed a pattern with Captain Nash, which the lawyer used to argue his point that Buckley was unfairly dismissed from active duty. The city couldn't dispute these claims and agreed to settle despite the blood thinners, which is why Buckley was offered a settlement."

"Which isn't what he wanted." Boden replies slowly.

"No, it wasn't. However, to save face—after everything Buckley went through: the firetruck explosion, the tsunami—and money, the city agreed to allow Buckley to come back to active duty. Unfortunately, Buckley wasn't transferred, kept in the same house by Captain Nash's request." Hernández snorts ferociously. "I, as long as a few Chiefs, agreed to it, as we thought Nash could keep his house professional. Nash was always a fair captain."

Tsunami? Boden's eyes are once again aimed at his admin staff in the bullpen, but his thoughts are elsewhere. "Are you saying he wasn't?" He puffs out his chest.

"I don't have proof, but…." Hernández exhales slowly and deeply. "Buckley turned down a cash settlement for this job, and barely four months later, he hands in his resignation. Why would he fight so hard only to quit months?"

"Maybe, Buckley just needed a change of scenery."

"I would've believed that if the settlement wasn't seven figures. You don't turn down seven figures for a job only to quit months later."

Boden's brain freeze, his mind blanking on Seven figures. How the hell does that happen? Seven figures? While he's not a lawyer—thank God-, he can't wrap his mind around that. Seven figures?! That's unheard of. With most wrongful termination, the most you're rewarded is missed wages. Some case depending on the situation, you may get more, but sh*t, not seven figures worth. "Seven figures? He was awarded millions..."

"Yes, which is why I doubt Buckley would just leave. It takes a special kind of person to turn down millions for a job. That kind of money can change anyone, and yet, Buckley turned it down."

That's another layer. There's only a handful of people who Boden can think of that would turn down millions for a job, which tells Boden more about Buckley than anything else. The Floater values the job. So, what could make Buckley walk away? For his own men, this job is more than a job. It's a family. There's only one reason Boden can think of: if your family turns on you. "You think he was run out." Seeing how skittish Buckley is, Boden can follow Hernández's train of thought, but yet, his brain stalls. Sure, a lawsuit can sour relationship, but could an entire house shun a man? He knows there're bad applies out there, officers who should never be officers, but the idea that an entire house could be that cruel turns his stomach.

"I have no proof, so I cannot be certain. I, however, do know his Captain kept him on light duty and didn't let him on calls for months. He was a man defeated when he handed in his resignation." He huffs. "I can only imagine though as Buckley did not log a single complaint."

Boden grumbles under his breath, as he pictures a nervous Buckley folding into himself in a crowd of firefighters. The idea that burns him. How much abuse do you have to take before you lost the will to fight and accept it from everyone? "Not to minimize what Buckley went through, but has this been blown out of portion? It would be foolish to think a house would welcome him back with open arms." Even though the house would be valid in their feelings, they still had to be professional.

Hernández throws his head back. "I'm sitting in my Battalion vehicle outside Buckley's former house. This house used to be known as a family house, the stories I had heard." He lets out a playful yet pained sigh. "But now, this house is at each other's throat. I just broke up a fight between two men." He huffs. "So, I doubt it was sunshine and flowers."

Right now, they're only guessing. "It tracks." While Buckley attempts to hide it, Boden has spotted the uneasy anticipation on his face as if he expects a tongue lashing. Boden only had two conversations with the man, but both times, he clocked the stiffness in his shoulders, his heart constricting. Boden and Hernández chat for a few more minutes, agreeing to keep in contact. Hernández requests that if Buckley ever wants to go on record to let him know.

Still processing everything, Boden got to admit that he's shocked by everything Hernández told him and he sits in his office stunned for a while before he gets to his feet to find Casey, who he finds quickly. The Good Captain is joking with the rest of the gang in the common/kitchen, everyone having a good time. Well, besides Severide. The Lieutenant, though he denies it—forcing a painful smile to his face if he catches someone looking at him-, has been in a mood for the last two shifts. "Casey," Boden calls, his hands on his hip. "My office now."

The smile drops from Casey's face, surprised by the Chief's ruff voice. He stares at him for a moment before he gets to his feet. "Coming."

*O*O*

The first hour with Ruzek is truly uncomfortable, and Buck feels like a stranger in his own house as he stares at the officer. It feels like he's ripping off his own skin off with a dull, jagged knife, as they bounce cover story ideas off each other. Buck firmly wants his past to remain in the past, especially any knowledge of the lawsuit. No matter the distance, Mackey's words echo in his ear, 'It's possible that you'll never work as a firefighter again, let alone be hired by any other department in the country.' While he didn't lose, Buck wouldn't call it a win either, not when he was iced out of the 118. That is a loss.

However, Ruzek breezes pass Buck's LA Days—much to Buck's relief—and—to Buck's horror- zeros in on Buck's Navy Seal days. A time that he felt so out of place—an imposter-, as he was unable to box up his emotions. While he tells everyone who asks that he dropped out prior to completing the training, he actually made it through and was placed on a team. He gave them a few years before something cracked in him and he asked to be discharged. At first the Navy tried to enforce his contract, but his Commander was able to pull some strings and he was sent home. Though Buck felt like a failure, he did make some lasting friends—including that Commander- that he sends postcards from time to time. "I didn't get rejected," Bucks grumbles softly.

Waving him off, Ruzek looks utterly unimpressed at Buck's protest. "Listen, it works better this way. We got kicked out together, both angry and bitter, which sent us down a 'dark path.'" He puts air quotes around it. "After a failed heist and almost getting arrested, you decided to call it quit and go straight, eventually becoming a firefighter. I went down a different path, which is why we lost touch. Easy peasy."

"Maybe, for you, but I don't have a cover to hide behind." This is his real name they're tainting… Isn't it already tainted?

"Don't worry. We'll loop the CFD in and clear up any misunderstanding."

While it's not too far from the truth, it still makes Buck uneasy. He has never done well with lies, the truth just bursting from him as he chokes on his tongue. "Fine."

"Now, that's out of the way. Let chatter about something funnier."

Buck rolls his eyes, not wanting to know what Ruzek considers 'fun', but their chat gets easier. Buck no longer feels like he's peeling off his own skin, even though they now are getting more personal, talking about their likes and dislikes. You would think It would be just as stressful, but it's oddly nice to talk about his interests and not his failures, especially since Ruzek brings up his own odd quirks and history. To break the ice, Ruzek mentions his failed three engagements.

"Sounds like you inspired some love songs." Buck teases, bringing his glass of water to his lips. "Call you Taylor Swift 2.0?" Buck bobs back and forth, tossing a thought in his head. "Okay, that's not fair or accurate to Taylor to call you Taylor Swift 2.0. You be more like John Mayer."

"Ha Ha. Very funny." He narrows his eyes and pauses. "I like how you know that."

Buck doesn't admit to it often, but he can't hate on Taylor Swift. "She got some good songs." He shrugs.

"Also, you speak as if you haven't broken any hearts?" Ruzek shots back, rolling his eyes.

Buck could not stuff down the guilty that graced his face. "Yea, but no engagements."

Ruzek- who Buck is beginning to see as Adam—snorts loudly. "Okay, but what's your body count? By looking at those pretty blue eyes, it has to be high. So, don't come high and mighty at me."

That's stings, but Buck tells himself that he isn't that man anymore. And yet, there's that urge, begging for that physical contact. "Point taken, but I'm a changed man. No longer a heart breaker."

As if Adam can see Buck's discomfort, he goes, "We need to be drunk for this dick measuring contest, and you have no beer. So…"

Seeing the out Adam is giving, Buck takes it and replies, "Yup, no beer. Sorry for your luck, John."

Adam glares at him with daggers, his eye twitching. A sharp finger pointing at Buck, he playfully threatens, "Watch it. Those're fighting words." Pretending to remove his make-believe gloves, he playfully 'tosses' them to the ground in a fit of 'rage'. "The gloves are off."

Buck stares blankly at the Officer for a moment, unsure how their tense conversion has morphed into this. He tries-he really does—to keep his walls up, no one can hurt you then, but everything in him longs for human interaction. He can't help but smile at Adam's over the top gesture. No, he has no sexual interest in Adam, simply enjoying his presence after days of isolation. Pathetic! It just takes a smile, and you drop. No wonder you break so easily. Buck fiercely shakes those chilling words from his head and replies, "I left my dueling pistols in my other pants, which are at the cleaners."

"That's what they all say!" Adam, pretending to be offended, tsks as he waves his finger at Buck. "All I hear is excuses."

Refusing to let his thoughts stray, Buck redirects his focus and gets to his feet. He feels Adam's calculating stare on him as he crosses to the television. "I don't have pistols…" He peeps over his shoulder and shoots Adam a cheeky smile. "Though, I wouldn't admit it to a cop even if I did. Are you trying to get me for entrapment?"

Adam snorts. "But I'm not a cop. I'm Adrian Davis, seals reject. I don't care if you have guns. I like guns."

Buck chuckles, smothering the urge to gag on the name. "True. True." He, partly kneeling down, opens one doors of his entertainment unit and reaches in for two controllers. "Did you know that the last duels took place in France in the 1967, though often only for form's sake, with precautions so no sword or pistol can be fatal? Fascinating stuff."

"No, I did not."

"Apparently in the last duel, one of the duelers vowed to wound his opponent in such a way as to spoil his wedding night 'very considerably.'" Buck has no idea why he feels so light, nor does he understand why he's telling Adam this, but sh*t, it feels amazing to be having a conversation with someone.

"Geez, poor wife. She probably didn't even get boned on her wedding night."

With the controllers in hand, Buck turns around, the horror dawning on him. "I didn't even think about that!"

Adam laughs. "I wouldn't be surprised if the bride killed the groom herself. Imagine if he bled on her dress."

"sh*t. Be World War 3." Buck has been to a few weddings, though mostly as a plus one, so he doesn't have firsthand experience with brides, but he can picture an angry bride tossing tables over blood on her dress. When he thinks about his sister and Chimney's future wedding, he could see Chimney—yes, Chimney- throwing a fit if his suit got blood on it while Maddie saving the day. "Catch," Buck randomly announces as he tosses one of the controllers to Adam.

Adam almost chokes on his last laugh, while his expression turns to shock as he eyes the controller sail through the air. "What the…" he utters as the controller bounces off his hands and tumbles into his lap.

"You stated you wanted to duel. This is what I have."

"Oh, really?" Adam's eyes dart back and forward from the controller to the cheery grin on Buck's face.

"Yes, really." Buck can't explain why it's easy to be open—well, semi open—with Adam, even after being manhandled by him. Okay, if he's honest, he can come up with an idea. He's f*cken lonely, lonelier than he has ever been, and Buck 1.0 is whispering in his ear, trying to seduce him. With time, it gets harder to fight, especially when he wants-needs to open up to someone, to talk to someone, even if it's an uncovered cop who doesn't give a damn. In fact, it's easier that it's Adam, a man whose main goal is catching bad guys. A man who won't rebuffed him. The officer needs him, and while that cheapens any friendship, it's refreshing here. Buck knows where Adam stands.

Adam, with a devilish good smile, straightens up while puffing out his chest. "You're on! I have mad skills."

After randomly picking a game, Buck takes a seat back on the sofa. "You won't be saying that in a few minutes!"

"We'll see." Adam shots him a playful, yet diabolical grin and points a sharp finger at Buck's chest. "You'll be shaking in your boots. Just you wait." There's nothing in Adam's pose that screamed worried.

On the other hand, opening himself up, even a little bit, to a fellow firefighter scares the living crap out of him, especially if it is Kelly Severide. It doesn't scare him for the obvious reasons; rather, it scares because he wants to open up to him. He wants to lose himself in Severide's smile and allow the bonds- the ones destroyed by the 118—to reform. He can see a family in 51, and that shakes him to his core. Their rejection would hurt more than anything.

For not having any beer and being completely sober, Buck and Adam have no explanation as to why they got lost in the video games, killing each other over and over again until the early morning hours. They point to their competitive streaks that refuse to stand down. "sh*t, look at the time." Adam says, looking at his phone. "I better get going."

As if he doesn't believe Adam, Buck reaches for him own phone to check the time, but he only feels the wooden table. Eyes large, he frantically scans the table, which he repeats not believing his own eyes, and curses, "sh*t." The controller slips from his hands as his hands fly to his side, and in an unsteady and awkwardly motion, he pats himself down, starting at his hips. "Have you seen my phone?"

Adam gives Buck a once over before he quickly sweeps the room. "Is that it?" He asks, spotting a phone's round edge poking out from beneath the coffee table.

"Yes, thanks!" Relief floods him, but that relief is short lived when he notices multiple missed calls, 7 that spanned over 12 hours. His thumping heart is in his throat when he scrolls through the missed calls. "sh*t."

"Is…um… everything okay?" Adam asks, as he stretches his arms high above his head.

He spots Grainger's name in the call log a few times. His calls were a few minutes apart as if he expected Buck to answer with multiple calls. Two were from his CFD Contact for floater assignments, most likely calling with a floater position. Those missed calls mean losing out on money. "sh*t!" The next few are from unfamiliar, unknown numbers, but Buck is less worried about those calls.

"Evan?"

"I'm good." Buck affirms through his teeth. Maybe, they haven't filled the floater spot, and he can still accept the assignment. Perhaps, he's freaking out over nothing, but it's too late to call now. "Just missed a few calls."

Adam nods, though eyeballing him skeptically. "Okay, then." There's a question in his stare, but he doesn't ask. Instead, he sees himself out, the sky still dark. "Until next time, Buckley."

Buck denies the familiar loneliness that settles deep in his gut when Adam leaves, but he doesn't allow himself to marinade in it. There's a blinking icon on his phone, catching his eyes and indicating a voicemail, and he, his tongue in his throat, needs to know how screwed he is. Stop being an infant. Puffing out his cheeks, he presses play and brings the phone to his ear.

"Buckley," the voice huffs, Buck recognizing Chief Boden's voice. "It's Chief Boden from 51. There's something I need to discuss with you. Please come down to the Firehouse as soon as you can."

Everything goes white for a moment, and it's a miracle that his phone doesn't slip from his sweaty and shaky hand as the other voicemails play, not that it matters. Buck can't tell you what those messages said, his brain still processing Boden's message. What does Boden want to talk about? What is there to talk about? One thing come to mind. sh*t. sh*t. sh*t. Buck tries to cool the fire in his chest, but every breathing technique he tries just leaves him breathless and gasping. Nightmare scenarios haunt his thoughts like a dementor, destroying any hope he has of sleeping.

*O*O*

Buck only manages to get an hour of restless sleep before he's up and on his way to firehouse 51; and yet, sleep is not on his radar. Don't get him wrong. Buck is exhausted, a hungry, snarling zombie on his feet, but his nerves are on fire. Plus, he doubts he'll be able to sleep after his 'fun' chat with Boden. A part of him hopes that he misses the Chief—the man didn't give him a time-, though that will only delay the inevitable. If Boden desires to speak to him, Boden is going to speak to him. There's no getting out of it.

While Buck is a big man, he has been half his size lately, his shoulder hunched forward as if in a permanent fashion. He tries to straighten up and hold his head high, but his doubts eat at his every thought while Mackey's greedy grin plagues him. You got this. Buck tells himself. Boden isn't going to eat you… Well, I hope not. Buckley breathes in deeply and calls forth happy memories. He thinks of Maddie, about the many game nights with her, Chimney and Josh. He thinks about the Zoo with Christopher and about how large his smiles gets when Buck lifts him onto his shoulders. With a deep breath, he picks up his head and—

"Buckley, Hey!"

Buck freezes. Breathe. One. Two. Three. His mind whispers as he awkwardly clears his throat and follows the voice. Just stepping out of the firehouse with a bag over his shoulder is Captain Matt Casey, dressed in his civilian clothes. "Leaving? Sorry. Just got Chief Boden's message. I…um… was busy yesterday." Busy playing video games with an uncovered cop, but Casey doesn't need to know that.

Though Casey is smiling at him, there's sharpness in his eyes. "It's understandable. It was a late notice." He glances back into the firehouse. "But Boden is still in his office. Follow me."

An intense dread fills Buck, his heart tight, as an image of a pig being led to the slaughter flashes before his eyes. Stop it. He yells at himself. "Okay." Casey, with a friendly grin, waves him forward, and while he can't rid himself of that image, he follows. The walk to Boden's office feels longer and bleaker than normal, his eyes drift in any direction besides ahead. His eyes shift side to side, refusing to look at the firefighters that walk pass them. He has his eyes aimed down, until he notices a pair of dark jeans.

That is Buck's first—besides coming to 51 after getting Boden's voicemail- mistake, as his eyes trail up the legs. Still walking, his blue eyes meet a certain green eye firefighter, and his entire world freezes for the second time. Buck is a firm believer that everyone, regardless of gender or size, looks good in a uniform, and that's definitely true with Kelly Severide, Buck drooling over him far too often; however, the way those dark jeans hug Severide's hips makes Buck's mouth go dry, especially when a sliver of skin peeps out, and it's a battle not to drop to—

Whack!

Buck just blinks as pain flashes through the entire left side of his body. In his horny haze, he made the turn too short and smacks into the corner of the wall. "sh*t." He curses, his eye twitching from the stinging. He rubs at his face.

Casey, with a half concern, half amused grin, glances over his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yup," Buck squeals, cheeks pink, as his eyes dart forward. "I'm Fine." His voice reaches levels Buck didn't think possible. He spots a few pair of eyes on him, his voice painfully high pitched, but there's only one that he's avoiding. He has no faith in himself that he won't walk into another wall if he stares into those beautiful eyes once more. "I'm good." He is not good, but that's Buck's problem, not Captain Casey's. The Good Captain does not need to know about Buck's horny thoughts toward his best friend. No one need to know. Besides, that is all it is. Buck, being touched starve, is ready to jump anyone he finds attractive. Severide is just unlucky.

*O*O*

Casey knocks on the glass of Boden's opened door. "Look who I found," he smiles as he pokes his head in.

Buck, his heartbeat racing, steps past Casey into Boden's office. "Hey, Chief." He only allows his eyes to hover over Boden for a moment before picking a spot over his right shoulder to focus on. "Sorry… it took so long. I…um… was busy."

"It's not problem." Boden grins as he removes his reading glasses. "Come in and take a seat." He motives to the seat across from him.

Buck's eyes dart to Casey for a moment before returning to Boden, still avoiding eye contact. "Is there an…ah…issue?" he asks, clearing this throat, as he lowers himself into the chair.

"No issue, Buckley. Just wanted to have a little chat." Boden's tone changes a tad on the word 'little.' His glance pops to Casey. "Close the door, Casey."

"Got it, chief." Casey steps into the room, setting his bags down, and closes the door behind him.

After months of being shunned, every conversation with a superior officer makes Buck's skin scrawl, waiting to be torn to pieces. No matter how many times he hasn't been yelled at in CFD, it doesn't change the engrained response in him. Now with both Captain Casey and Chief Bode staring at him, he's going to explode as the ravens wait to feed off his skin.

Boden leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk, his eyes recognizing the well-hidden panic beneath Buck's neutral expression. "I'm not going to beat around the bush. I know about the lawsuit." He pauses, allowing Buck to process.

Everything goes white, the air in Buck's lungs suddenly gone. "Y-you know a-about the l-lawsuit… You…" Buck's right-hand flies to his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt, as he gasps for air. "I… Um… Sir… I…" Everything inside of Buck is screaming, his recent nightmares replaying in his head on max, the blood in his veins going ice cold. The hair standing up on his arms, pure panic replaces the blood in his veins. He can't go through this again. He can't be hated for existing again. "O-of course, you know about the l-lawsuit." He tries to clear his throat but chokes on his words. "N-no doubt, you don't want me here. I-I'll go. I'll leave right now. Sorry for-"

Boden raises his right hand, Buck's panic surprising both Casey and him. "Whoa, Whoa. Slow down. Breathe, Buckley. No one has said any such thing." He protests strongly, watching Buck's chest thump like a herd of wild horses. "No one is judging you here. We just need you to breathe."

"Sir… C-Chief." Buck croaks, his throat parched and itchy. "I-I'm s-sorry." His hand travels up his chest to his neck, his finger digging into the skin.

"Let me get you some water." Casey leaps forward to his feet and hurries out the office to the kitchen.

Buck can distantly hear the click of Casey's shoes as he disappears down the hallway, the Captain's words barely registering. Disturbing memories work their way forward, angry, cruel words echoing in his head. Familiar insults and slurs eat at him. Everything that has ever happened to him at the 118 rushes back, and the fear and panic of that happening again paralyzes him to his core. He can't go through that again. He can't have friendly eyes turn on him in hate. Not-

"Buckley! Breathe." Boden's voice is cut through the air, snapping Buck from his panic. "Breathe."

Blinking, Boden's office slowly reappears around Buck, though Buck is focused on the Chief who has rounded his desk in Buck's panic and stands in front of him. Buck's heart is in his throat as he meets Boden's eyes, expecting the anger he has seen in Eddie's eyes and the disappointment he has seen in Bobby, but he sees neither. Instead, there's nothing but concern and compassion, which Buck doesn't know how to handle. "I-" A hand suddenly appears on his shoulder, sending several feet into the air, and he has to bit down on his tongue to stop the sting of curses words from rolling out.

"Sorry," comes Casey's remorseful voice as a water bottle drops into Buck's line of version. "Here."

"T-Thanks." Buck utters as he takes the bottle. He hesitates for a second before he twists off the top and takes a few big slips. "Thanks," he repeats, twisting the cap back on. He glances over his shoulder, looking for a quick escape, another reflex engrained into him. He straightens back into the chair, which has gotten a whole lot uncomfortable.

"Feel better?" Casey asks, returning to his spot by the window.

Buck does not feel better; he will never feel better. Gripping the water bottle tight, he ignores the question and asks, "H-how did y-you find out?" The word 'you' sounds mangled.

Boden straightens up and leans back against his desk. Folding his arm against his chest, he answers slowly and cautiously, "I spoke to Chief Hernández." He exchanges glances with his Captain. "After Casey bought some concerns to my attention, and when my captain brings concerns to my attention, I take them serious."

That panic from before is back—not that it ever left—, and it feels like someone is sitting on Buck's chest. "Did I make a mistake?" Squeezing the water bottle even tighter, he replays his last shift at 51 in his head. Did he mess something up? Was Bobby right the entire time? Is he unworthy of the uniform?

"You didn't do anything wrong, Buckley." Casey shots out, clocking the panic boiling just beneath the skin. "Just noticed some… odd behavior and we are worried."

Odd behavior? The words echo in Buck's head. What does that mean? Boden and Casey may say he didn't do anything wrong, but it doesn't feel like it. You don't get called by to the principal office by the Principal and Vice Principal for nothing. Calm down, Buckley. He knows he's overacting, as Boden and Casey haven't given him any implication that he should be worried. Yet…

Breathing through his nose, Boden explains, "After speaking with Hernández, I have a few questions that I hope you can answer."

Yep, this is the conversation that Buck has been fearing, the whole we don't want you here. He heard it every day for months. "I'm sorry. I truly am." His voice peeks, hitting pre puberty levels. "I get it you don't want me here." Is he wanted anywhere? No, Mackey is right. They are right. "I get it. I wouldn't want to work with someone like…me. I betrayed..." He drifts off, unable to list everyone that he hurt. He hurt so many people. "Please know it was never about the money. I just wanted to do the job… That's all I ever wanted. It's still the only thing I ever. I-"

"Buckley," Boden calls forcefully but gently. "Look at me."

Casey shoots Boden a look and pushes off the wall. "You got to breathe, Buckley." As if to show Buck how it's done, he slows his breathing, and with every breath he takes, he makes a hand motion, following the intake of air.

Peeping over his shoulder at Casey, Buck bits down on his lip and copies the slow breathing. This isn't new, but it helps to focus on someone else. Silence falls, no one speaking until Buck's breathing matches Casey's. "I'm good." He says softly after a few awkward minutes. He settles back into his seat, yet again, his eyes trained down to his lap. "I'm good."

For a few seconds, Boden eyes Buck with a calculating stare, and when he's comfortable with Buck's breathing, he starts, "I won't say I agree with the lawsuit." Buck's right eye twitches. "Being a firefighter is already a dangerous job and being on blood thinners creates risks and obstacles that don't need to exist." He pauses, once more exchanging looks with Casey. "However, I understand how extremely frustrating it must've felt like to be in your position."

Buck, his eyes wet and gleaming, peeps up at Boden's expression for a second before his stares drop again. While he's no longer on blood thinners, the very thought of them makes his skin itch. The lawsuit was a mistake, Buck knows this now: blood thinners and firefighting doesn't mix. Yet, it doesn't nix the betrayal he felt when Bobby lied to him. It wasn't the city keeping him back, it was his Captain. "What do you know?"

"We don't know everything, pieces to this puzzle missing, but what I do know, angers me off." Boden answers, breathing through his nose.

Casey steps forward until he is parallel with Boden's desk. "I can second that." He blusters, his expression heavy. "Yes, it's easy to judge someone after the fact, which is why I tend to shy away from that, but…" He, the gears in his head turning, eyes Buck's profile. "From what it sounds like, your captain failed you on several accounts. There needs to be a standard that everyone must adhere to, and without this, all you have is resentment. Captains have to make sure there's transparence. That's a must."

The reality of the situation is slowly dawning on Buck. "Transparency…"

"Yes. It doesn't sound like your Captain was." Casey takes deep breath, his nose flaring. "Also, doesn't sound like you had a safe working environment, and honestly, Buckley? That pisses me off."

"So… you aren't mad about me suing the LAFD." Buck's head pops up, his eyes drilling into Casey's. How? The entire 118 made him feel like an unwelcomed house guest. The lawsuit made him public enemy number one to them.

Boden clears his throat, his voice rough. "I can't lie and say I wouldn't feel slighted if someone in this house brought a lawsuit against me as we're a family. It'll always feel personal; however, as your superior officer, it's my duty to be professional. Your Captain wasn't. He failed you."

Buck swallows thickly, his throat suddenly dry again. "Who said he f-failed me?"

"The city did as well by putting you back into that house."

Before leaving the 118, the thought of working at another house would've destroyed him. The 118 is—was, his brain corrects. The 118 was his family. Even now, his heart skips when he thinks about them. They already left you. "But I wanted to be…"

"And yet, you're here." Boden tilts his head to the side, meeting Buck's wet blue eyes.

"Yup." He replies forcefully, popping out the 'p.' With a deep breath, he asks, "now what?"

"I can only imagine how tense that house was, so I need to know." Boden states, calmly.

"Why does it matter?" Buck asks, his voice breaks. The water bottle crackles under his tight grip. "Not much to say." Saying anything just hurts. Though, it's not what is said, but how it is said, and Buck is telegraphing everything.

"Because it matters," Casey interjects, a frown forming on his face. "From your behavior, I can picture it, but we need from you. Did your former house create a hostile work environment for you?"

While it tore at Buck every time he stepped into the firehouse, he understands their anger. He hurt them. He just couldn't be their punching bag anymore. "It's understandable. If…if I was them, I wouldn't trust me either. I used…" He shakes his head. "I get them not wanting to work with me."

"No, it's not."

"I betrayed them."

"You were hurting. We know what happened with the fire truck, pinned until they contained the suspect." Casey counters, firmly. "I can't imagine what went through your head."

Buck doesn't like to recall that day. Granted, he vaguely remembers it, everything lost in that hazy that was his pain and fear. Heck, he can't even tell you what the man—or was it a boy?—looked like. He only has his nightmares to go off of, which doesn't do him any favors. The only reason he knows how long he was under that truck is because of the police report, his pain melting everything together. "Doesn't excuse it."

"No, it doesn't, but if they couldn't handle it, they should've transferred you. Harassing a fellow firefighter day in and day out is never okay." Boden disputes, strongly. "Can you tell me what they did?"

Buckley sinks into the chair, his shoulders hunched over. "Who said they did?" He protests, though he knows it is pointless.

Casey puffs out his cheeks before he replies, "No one did, Buckley. You didn't need to." There's a sadness in his eyes.

"That…um… doesn't mean anything." Buck tries to dispute.

"You had a panic attack at the mere mention of the lawsuit." Casey's eyes dart toward the office door, concentrating on something outside. "Not to add the distance you put between you and any house you float at, hiding behind a push broom."

Buck takes a large breath and exhales deeply. "Just don't want to be a burden." And yet, you had two panic attacks.

The muscle just beneath Boden's right eye twitches. "From what I've seen so far, I can't imagine you ever being a burden." Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself up to his feet and rounds his desk back to his chair. "I won't push anymore. I have everything I need to know but my door—our doors," He points to Casey and his chest. "Will always be open when you want to talk."

Buck doesn't know what that mean? How does Boden have everything that he needs? However, Buck has reached his limit of chatter for the week, feeling raw from all of the emotional skin pulling. "Thanks. Is that all you wanted to talk about?" he asks, passing the water bottle to his left and pushing down on the arm rest with his right hand.

"No." Pushing his chair out of the way, Boden reaches into his drawer for a piece of paper. "I now understand why you rejected all the offers to turn fire house. However, I won't accept that."

"What?" Buck voices, bolting upright in his chair. The metal legs of the chair squeals, as it scrapes the floor.

Casey shifts and steps forward, a soft smile on his face. "Chief Boden and I are in agreement. You're too good for a floating position, and it's time to correct that. Starting next shift, you'll be serving on Truck 81 under me. Won't be as fancy as Squad three."

"Captain…" Buck's world is spinning. It was just yesterday that he dreamt of being a part of 51, but it's another thing to have the position dangled in front of him. "I literally just had a panic attack in front of you and you still want me? I'm…" Broken. Buck breathes through the shutter that rocks his body.

"Yes," Casey answers. "Sounds like something we will work through together."

Casey doesn't say the word, but Buck can hear the word 'therapist.' He has to dig his fingers into palms to stop him from flinching. "Are you sure?"

A large smile forms on Boden's face. "Oh, Buckley. You don't get a say in this. Firehouse 51 is a family house, and we aren't going to leave a man behind."

Buck is speechless, as he doesn't know what to make out of all this. He never thought a firehouse would want him after they learned about the lawsuit, which scares the crap out of him.

"And maybe in time, you will trust us enough to tell what happened."

*O*O*

When a gear-less Buckley strolls firehouse, Kelly levels. He can't explain but the moodiness that filled him for the last two shift vanishes; however, he doesn't let himself strew on that. Instead, his mind starts throwing out questions. Why is Buck here? Why is Casey not surprised by his presence? Why are they heading toward Boden's office? Kelly is clearly missing some vital information here, especially if the weight in Buck's shoulder is any implication. Buck is a big man, standing over six feet, and yet, he never looks his full size.

Suddenly changing his course, Kelly ignores the looks pointed at him and follows after the two. He spots that familiar, uncomfortable tension in Buck's shoulder, and he's filled with the strong urge to grab him by the shoulders and massage the tension right out of him. A strong desire to hear the glorious-

The words die in his throat as Buck and Kelly's eyes lock. Kelly's mind goes blank, getting lost in the blue ocean of Buck's eyes. Kelly has ogled Buck's blues eyes on many occasions, counting the shades of blue he can see. At times, he doesn't realize he is doing it, until someone pokes him in the shoulder. Unfortunately, it is mostly Casey who breaks him out of fog, nailing him with a hypercritical stare. He has lost-

Whack!

Misjudging the turn, Buck smacks the face first into the wall. He just blinks for a few seconds, his brain in a heavy haze, before he loudly swears. While Kelly can imagine how much that hurts, he chuckles at how comical and cute Bucks looks as he rubs at his face. Buck needs some kisses to make it feel better… Casey, with that knowing smile Kelly hates so much, grins at Buck, asking if he's okay. Buck waves Casey off before they two continue on their way to Boden's office. Kelly knows it's none of his business, but he follows, keeping a good few feet back. Casey and he exchanges looks when the good Captain closes Boden's door. Kelly uncomfortably recognizes that heated look, had seen it many times on his best friend face, and if Casey hadn't smiled at Buck a few moments ago, Kelly would be worried, and he might've busted into Boden's office, invited or not, even if he has to wrestle Casey to the ground to do so. Wait? Where the f*ck did that come from?

Kelly doesn't cross the printer and leans against the wall. Once more, he gets a few sideways stares, but he keeps his eyes on Buck, who is partly obstructed by the blinds. He can't hear anything over Connie's typing, but whatever is being said, it's a tense, Boden's expression jumping between anger and compassion. Even Casey, one of the most leveled headed person Kelly knows, looks upset. What the f*ck is going in there? His hand twitches at his side, his heart telling him to move. The only thing stopping him from bursting in is Connie, who is nails him with one of her famous glares.

Suddenly, Casey spurts out of the room, the door left opened him, and hurries passes him and down the hall to the kitchen. Still aware of Connie's eyes on him, Kelly pushes off the wall and takes a step forward. While his view of Buck is still partly blocked, he sees enough to know that something is off. Kelly straightens his shoulders ready to charge, but Boden's voice cuts through the air, stopping Kelly. "Buckley! Breathe."

Kelly's eyes go large, hearing the concern in Boden's voice, and his heart tightens uncomfortable in his chest. Not even Connie's heated stare cold stop him, but Casey returns, a water bottle in his hand, before he makes it to the door. He shots a warning glance at Kelly and sternly says. "No." He doesn't elaborate further, as he steps back into Boden's office and closes the door behind him. Bucks jumps when Casey places a hand on his shoulder. Kelly's eye twitches, Buck's uneasiness making him physically uncomfortable. He breathes through his nose, the resentment building. What the hell is going on in there?

The clock ticking in the background, Kelly doesn't know how long he has been standing there, but it feels like an eternity, an eternity in hell with Connie's judging eye. To avoid that probing stare, he keeps his stare forward, his eyes drilling holes into the door. He's fully aware he's giving off creeper vibes with his intense scowl, but he doesn't care. While there's a wall between them, the tension in the air could be cut with a knife. He can't see Buck's face, but he isn't liking the ever-changing expression on Boden and Casey's face.

When Buck finally gets up, Casey offers a hand shake, which Buck hesitantly and skeptically takes. Boden offers him his hand as well, and Buck, who is just as cynical, takes it. Buck offers them a weak but true smile as Casey opens the door, his bag once again over his shoulder. The three of them exit in a row- Buck in the middle-, each giving Kelly a penetrating stare when they spot them.

"Severide, you're still here?" Boden asks, his eye brow raised.

Kelly gives him a cheeky smile, a bit embarrassed by the protective streak that pulse through him. "Yea, just wanted to make sure everything is okay."

"That's nothing to worry about." Casey smiles, clocking the embarrassed smile on Kelly's face.

Kelly's eye twitching, knowing Casey is going to corner him the second they get back to the apartment. Why does he live with Casey again? "Good, good." He nods as he turns his attention to Buck, who is quiet behind them, though the tension Kelly spotted earlier is gone. Kelly is happy to see that, but he still can't help but worry. Buck flinching under Casey's touch flashes before him.

"Buckley has agreed to join us permanently here at 51," Boden announces.

Casey glances at Buckley before saying, "Yes, he'll be serving under me on truck 81. No doubt he'll be a good fit on the team." His head bobs back and forth for a few times before he chuckles. "Although, Gallo and Buckley might be too much for me."

Boden glances over his shoulder at Casey. "Don't forget Ritter. A furious trio." His entire face lights up with a smile. "Young blood. Just what we want in our firehouse." Buck's cheeks go pink as his eyes bounce between Boden and Casey's grins.

Kelly stares speechless for a moment before a smile explodes on his face. He has questions because he recalls the two lieutenants' conversation at Molly's: Buck rejects numerous full times placement. Why would he accept one now? However, he isn't going to look gifted horse in a money. Yes, a gifted horse. "That's awesome." He grins. Truck 81 is no squad 3, but Buck is going to be at 51, which means Kelly will be able to keep an eye on him for the foreseeable future. The thought makes his light head. And 'keeping an eye on him' has a few different means.

Chapter 11: Floater no longer

Chapter Text

Chapter 11:

Floater no longer

For the most part, Matt Casey enjoys living with Kelly Severide, especially when you need a friend after a stressful day on the job, but right now, he wants to drop this so-called best friend off a high cliff. Okay, not a high cliff, but he'll settle for either a small hill overlooking a mud puddle or locking him in a freeze until Kelly calms down. After learning about Buckley's permanent placement at firehouse 51, Kelly is filled with questions. Questions that Matt can't-won't answer, questions only Buckley has the authority to answer. "Stop looking at me like that." Matt grunts, as he sips his water. With a client consultation at 2pm, he simply wants to take a nap before he has to deal with a picky client who wants things that aren't feasible.

"What happened in there?" Kelly asks, barely two steps behind him. There's a scrawl on his face. "It looked tense."

Matt's eyes flicker up, meeting Kelly's for a second. "It was tense."

Kelly grinds his teeth together, his shoulders tense and heavy. Glowering, a thick silence falls, as he goes quiet for a minute, his focus on Matt's face. "You aren't going to tell me?" he accuses harshly, as his eyes drill into Casey's cheek.

Letting out a rough sigh, Matt turns and meets his best friend's intense stare. "Listen. Buckley's story is Buckley's story." While he's grateful he knows it, it feels like a betrayal in a sense, especially considering Buckley's two panic attacks. After Boden recounted everything that the LA Chief told him, Casey didn't know what to think, everything he knew about Buckley flashed through his head. Suddenly, Buckley's insistence on being a permanent Floater makes sense, scared—No, petrified that someone would find out about his lawsuit and treat him cruelly. There's no doubt in Matt's mind that his old house f*cked him up, even if he doesn't know how.

"So, there's a story." Kelly states.

"Everyone has a story, Kelly." Matt shots back, resisting the urge to roll his eye. "So, the question is: do you want Buckley to tell you, or do you want me to tell you? If Buckley wants you to know, he'll tell you." Matt is never going to tell Kelly Buckley's story, but he offers this as it is a good question for Kelly to ponder. "Do you want me to betray his trust?"

Kelly rears back, his face goes blank. "What?! No."

"Well, there you go." Matt says, tipping his glass at Kelly before taking another drink. At hearing Buckley's story- his panic attack solidifying his choice-, he brought up the idea of having Buckley placed at 51. While Matt likes to think his fellow Captains won't hold the lawsuit against the floater, he can't be sure. Lawsuits make everyone crazy, but he knows he won't. He knows Buckle will get a fair shot under him, and besides, Buckley, from all reports, is a damn good firefighter. Boden, at first, was a bit skeptical, but it didn't take much convincing, the chief ¾ there already.

"I just…" Kelly's tongue is dry, his mouth suddenly parched.

Matt takes a deep breath, watching Kelly fall into a tiny freak out. Even though he's worried about his best friend, he has to admit that it's adorable to watch how frustrated Kelly gets over Buckley. At first, it threw Matt through a loop as Buckley is a guy, and from his knowledge, Kelly has never shown any interest in men, but everything clicks: the hungry stares, the rushing to Buckley's defense, how flushed he gets, etc. Matt can't help but laugh at it all, because man, Kelly has it bad. And if he is already this protective, Matt hates to see what will happen if this—whatever this is—progresses. "I get it, but there's only one thing we need to do: show Buckley the 51 way. I'm sure once he feels comfortable, he'll open up. He just needs time." He grasps Kelly by the shoulder and squeezes as he walks pass him.

Kelly mumbles under his breath, his words nothing more than cranky grumbles under his breath. Clearing his throat, he goes, "Yea, I know."

"Then focus on that." Matt doesn't say anything else and heads to his bedroom for a well deserve nap.

*O*O*

Matt doesn't hold any belief that Buckley—or Buck if he goes by what Kelly calls him, which rolls off the tongue for the grinning lieutenant—will show up at Molly's when Matt offers a drink in celebration, but he offers nonetheless over their handshake. He doesn't mention this invitation to Kelly, as he seriously doubts the Ex-Floater will show up, having skipped out on a few invitations. Nevertheless, Matt can't say he isn't hopeful just a tiny bit that Buckley will show up for him unlike everyone. Though he loves Herrmann, there're times that he overwhelms even Matt, and Herrmann's over energetic invite might've been too much, while Matt's is seen as a friendly gesture.

Not telling Kelly is strategic as Matt doesn't—can't really- want to watch his best friend stare like a sad puppy at the red door, waiting for someone who may not show up. The melancholy, gloomy expression will just crush Matt. Right now, Kelly seems to be in better spirits when Matt takes a sit next to him, and Matt wants it to stay that way. "Just give me whatever," he waves at Kidd as he takes a seat next to Kelly.

Peeping at Matt from the corner of his eyes, Kelly laughs into his beer. "You better be careful. She might give you something disgusting." The Lieutenant, shockingly, is in a much better mood than he has been in days.

"Molly doesn't have disgusting beer!" Herrmann yells at them from down the bar, not even looking up from a pile of receipts in front of him. Today being a weekday, the bar is not crowded, not that a filled Bar would silent Herrmann.

"Only the best!" Mouch adds, lifting his glass

Kidd shakes her head and grins, "Even if we did, I would not do my captain wrong. That's just stupid."

Moving only his eyes, Matt watches Stella reaches for his beer of choice. While he has said whatever, she knows her captain well enough to know what he wants. "You appear to be in a better mood." He mentions to Kelly, shifting just enough to get Kelly into his peripheral.

Kelly rolls his eyes. "You make it sound like I was the Grinch."

"Because you were," Kidd interjects loudly, as she slides Matt's beer in front of him, scrapping the wood lightly. "I think the entire house can agree with that."

"I was not." Kelly protests halfheartedly.

Matt twists in his seat, the chair squeaking, and shots Kelly a cynical look. "I don't know about that. You were totally grumpy."

"I was-" It's at this point that Herrmann stirs, puts down the calculator and steps into their loud conversation. "What is Severide hopelessly denying?" he asks, a tingle in his eyes as he winks at Kelly.

"About how cranky he has been for the last few shifts." Stella tease.

Kelly lets out a harsh huff. "This is just my face. Not my fault I was born this way." The smile drops from his face as he points to his now frown.

"Sorry, Buddy, but you were as cantankerous as a toddler when they don't get something they want." Herrmann drifts off as if he's recalling a specific memory. A shiver runs down his entire body. "Trust me I know."

No one in the group will or can deny that statement; however, Kelly is not amused by the comparison. "I can't win, can I? Can't be happy without the 20 questions and If I'm not happy—still deny being grumpy-, I get the third degree."

"What are we grilling Severide on?" Sylvie Brett innocently asks, as she suddenly appears next to Matt in all smiles.

Matt's chest gets uncomfortable light when she turns her blinding smile on him. "Him being Mr. Grumpy pants," he says, unevenly, as he points at his best friend with his head.

"Why am I protesting? It's pointless." Kelly hums, while he gives Matt a knowing look. Just like Kelly's crush on Buckley is painfully obvious, the same can be said about Matt and Sylvie.

Sylvie ducks beneath Matt's arm to get a good view of the playfully over the top frown on Kelly's face. While Matt is aware of her concern regarding Buckley and Kelly, he's always stunned by the penetrating stare she has been giving him. "Is there a reason why Severide no longer grumpy?"

Just like that, all eyes drill into Kelly, who, in turns, fights to keep the red from bleeding into his cheeks. Matt knows his friend well enough to know that he won't answer, as that will betray his true feeling. While the realization is slowly dawning on Kelly, admitting this change in his mood is due to Buck joining the firehouse is too much for him right now. However, there's nothing stopping Matt from saying it, not that Kelly's head still won't explode. "Evan Buckley is joining firehouse 51 permanently." As Casey expected, Kelly goes a few different shades of red as he refuses to meet any probing stare.

A second beats by before a large Chester Cat grin blossoms on Stella's face. "Oh, really?" She exclaims, a bit too loudly and over the top.

"On…Squad 3?" Herrmann asks, deliberately slow, as if he expects someone to jump in and correct him.

"No," Matt answers. "On Truck 81 under me."

"Oh, really!" Stella exclaims again, sporting one of the biggest grins that Matt has ever seen on her. Matt would be shaking in his boots if that smile points at him, but her focus is on solely on Kelly.

However, Matt barely resists the urge to laugh when he spots a shiver run up Kelly's spine. On the other hand, Herrmann, whose eyes are scrunched up in confusion, is not smiling and draws his attention with, his words dripping in bewilderment, "I wasn't aware that there was a sport open on Truck."

"There wasn't, but technically, we never filled your spot when you moved over to Engine." Matt isn't sure why they never filled Herrmann's position, Boden not answering when asked; however, Matt prefers a 5-man team, as it means everyone can pair up and still have someone on the aerial. Plus, it gives him some padding if someone calls out.

"And Buckley agreed? Everything I hear is that he isn't looking for a house." Herrmann replies.

Kelly shifts uncomfortably in his chair before leaning forward. "Maybe, he was looking for the right fit." He challenges, his eyes in fine points.

Shaking his head, Matt exhales. "Whatever the case, he's now a part of 51, which makes him family." He says as he lifts his beer and points it Herrmann. "Let's show him what that means."

"Second, that." Sylvie smiles as she rises her own beer.

Stella is all grins, reaching for her own glass, filled with water, to raise. From time to time, she drinks alongside them while behind the bar, but for the most part, she doesn't drink. While Herrmann isn't as strict as other bar owners, getting drunk on job isn't wise. "Hell yea. I third that." She winks at Kelly, whose right eye just twitches. He doesn't say a word, simply rising his own beer.

Matt gives Herrmann a prodding look, the man not raising his own drink, but Herrmann's grunt is enough. "Of course," the Lieutenant waves off, "he's family. He's been family since he pushed me out of the way of that speeding car."

"And he makes a mean Mac & Cheese," Mouch interjects, suddenly popping up on the other side of Kelly, which surprises the sh*t out the squad Lieutenant.

"Jesus," Kelly yells, putting down his drink and grabbing at his chest. His heart pounds. "When did you become a ninja?"

Rolling his eyes, Herrmann shakes his head. "Is food all you think about?"

"Yes, that Mac & Cheese was mouthwatering." Mouch answers.

"He isn't wrong," Stella agrees, her head bobbing back and forth between the two. "I wonder what other yummy food Buckley has in his arsenal."

"Well, his eggs are pretty good, nice and fluffy," Kelly mindlessly adds.

Once again, all eyes are on Kelly, who's face is slowly turning bright red as he realizes what he said. "Wait," Stella starts, slowly. "How would you know? And why didn't I get any?" Kelly nervously gulps as he brings his beer to his lips, and without hesitation, he just downs it.

*O*O*

It has been a day since his conversation with Casey and Boden, but Buck's head is still spinning. The numbing lightness in his chest is still there, and his mind is in a state of continually shock, forcing him to constantly remind himself. How do neither Boden nor Casey care about the lawsuit? How? It makes everything that the 118 did worse. Yea, but you told your lawyers their biggest secrets. His mind injects and—No! No. No. Biggest secrets? What a joke! Everything Buck told his lawyers is easily looked up, the 118's "secrets" well documented.

Buck lets out an annoyed huff as he refocuses his attention on the rows of tortillas. How many kinds of tortillas are there? No really! He has spent all morning going from grocery store to grocery store before he steps into this authentic Mexican store, trying to find all of the right ingredients for Abuela's famous chilaquiles recipe. When Isabel Diaz passed the famous recipe down to him, no one thought he would've ended up here, shunned by his family, but no matter the current events, it was passed down to him with love, and Buck feels that love every time he makes it, nostalgia rushing through him like no other.

Buck doesn't make these chilaquiles for everyone, just his family. Abuela likes to joke that Eddie is useless the kitchen and this is the only way Eddie will get her famous chilaquiles as she refuses to cook them for him anymore. At the time, Buck laughed it off, but looking back, he can't help but awkwardly and stiffly laugh. Was Isabel trying to set him up? How did he miss that? No! Buck stops that train of thought as it's water under the bridge now. Eddie and he are no longer possible, and that's even if the man falls to his knees in front of him with tears down his face, begging for forgiveness. There's no forgetting how little Eddie made him feel. How inconsequential he felt. Eddie and the 118 may come back into his life and look at him lovingly, but there'll always being that dread hanging over him like a guillotine. Even now, it makes him itchy thinking about it.

Besides, there's Kelly Severide and his muscles.

His thoughts turning on him—dirty-, Buck goes bright red in the tortillas row. Yes, in the grant scheme of everything, he doesn't know Severide well enough to fall this hard, but having spent several 24 hour shifts with the man, it isn't hard to understand why. He's a kickass lieutenant, who treats everyone with respect—unless they don't deserve it. Severide isn't scared to show his true feelings; plus, he has this confidence about him that can soothe everyone, no matter their panic level. There's something intensely hot about that. And that smile of his doesn't hurt. God, Buck melts into a puddle any time Severide looks in his direction. Just f*cken melts.

Granted, any smile from the 51 can do that to a lesser degree, though for other reasons. While he takes them all with a grain of salt (Besides Casey's), he feels human under their stares, which honestly just feels amazing after being an unwanted interloper for months. It doesn't take much pondering to figure out that's why he has been running all over the city looking for Ingredients: he wants to make a good impression and show how grateful he is to be part of the 51 family. Sure, he is scared of rejection—the lawsuit still hanging over his head—but he's excited.

Unable to still the jitters in his hands, he grabs a package of tortillas and heads to the cashier.

*O*O*

To save time cooking and to lessen the consequences of getting a call mid cook, Buck did the prep-cook the day before, which takes longer than expected due to the amount of food. "Going a bit far," Buck mumbles to him as he packs up everything into the back of his jeep. It takes a few trips, his arms loaded down with bags, but his favorite teenage resident helps him carry everything down, though he does this while talking his ear off. While Buck has been out and about, it's nice just to have someone talk to him, even it is a mess.

God, Buckley! What a pathetic lonely mess. Stop being so clingy. Go get laid already and get over it.

Buck's grip tightens on his stirring wheel, he forever on guard against his Buck 1.0 days. With a deep breath, he focuses his attention on the road and his new house. It doesn't take long for his worry and anxiety to get swept away by his excitement of having a house. It hits him hard how much he wants this, his heart beating under inch of his skin, and nothing can compete with that excitement, which bubbles up deep within him. There's a skip in his step, which he can feel right down to his toes.

By the time he pulls up to the fire station and finds a parking space, Buck's nerves are popping. The sun feels like fire on his skin as he opens the door to the jeep and steps out. Leaving his apartment early, he's not in any rush and just stares at the old red bricks. Familiar nerves flare up inside of him, and he feels like a probie—or candidate in Chicago-, walking into a firehouse for the first time. While nothing can dull his excitement, the oddball apprehension in his veins is unsettling and knocks him off center. Why is he nervous? It isn't like he hasn't worked with these men before and hasn't received their respect.

Minutes tick by as Buck gazes at the building, whispering words of encouragement into his own ear. "You got this, Buckley," he tells himself. "You got this. Who's the man who survived a f*cken Tsunami?" Those memories aren't welcomed in his head, but when he allows himself to gloat, he can mention it without a chill running down his spine. How many people can say that they survived a tsunami? Well, quite a few in LA, but how many can say they survived a Tsunami while saving over 20 people? That's right, only him. Because he is awesome. "I got this."

However, there's a flaw in Buck's plan, which becomes obvious when he opens the hatch of his jeep. If he didn't have his turnout gear—this being the last time he'll have to carry it in—, it wouldn't be a problem, and he could make it in one trip. No, he would make it in one trip. Two trips are for losers. Buck is not a loser. He internally chuckles at that as he can already envisions himself juggling everything, his arms loaded up with bags. Biting at his bottom lip, he starts to pile on his gear.

Though, it doesn't take long before he suffers his first misstep, as he fumbles his helmet rather comically. With his left hand full of stuff, he only has his right hand to reach for falling helmet, which bounces off his hand like a bouncy ball and slams the ground hard. For a few feet, it takes a rolling tumble before a pair of legs stop it. "Um, sorry." He utters, going pink, as his eyes drift up the legs from his helmet.

"Need help, Buckley?" Casey asks.

Buck's face morphs into several shades of red as he lays eyes on Casey's grinning face. "Um, hi, Captain Casey." He shifts uncomfortably under Casey's fond eyes. While there's no heat in his stare, Buck doesn't know how to act in front the captain now that he knows the truth. Casey may say he doesn't care, but Buck's mind can't wrap itself around it. "Um, sure."

"And you can drop the captain." Casey grins as he reaches down for Buckley's helmet. "Capp will be mad and super worried that everyone will get confused. The horror." He explains, noticing Buck's confused face. "He made a strict rule about it."

"Really?"

Casey flips the helmet a few times before he sets it down Buck's head. "You'll learn that this entire house is filled of goofballs." He peeps into the jeep, silently counting the bags in the back. "What you have there?"

Buck, still a bright red, looks up, his eyes resting on the helmet's lip. Why didn't he think about putting it on his head? "Um… I…wanted to do something…um…nice for the house."

Casey nods. "One way to a firefighter's heart is through their stomach, though you're already half way there with that Mac & Cheese," he teases as he reaches into Buck's Jeep grabbing some of the packages.

Buck's mind zooms off in five different directions as he doesn't know how to take that. At one point, they must've been talking about him for Casey to make that statement, which twists his stomach uncomfortably, but on the other, there's a smile on Casey's face. f*ck, he hints at them loving him over it, and stomach somersaults over. "I enjoy cooking."

Besides for a bag or two (not counting Buck's gear), Casey grabs what he can, balancing a throw away tray between his arms. "Don't let anyone hear you say that. They will hound you forever."

Is it wrong that Buck doesn't mind that? Near the end, he wasn't included in 'family' dinners, and either it be cooking or just eating with the team, he is included, which means everything. "Doesn't sound too bad." Buck shrugs as he closes the back hatch with his elbow. In unison, they start up the driveway.

"You say that now, but these guys are brats." Casey side eyes Buck, watching the small chuckle that passes across his lips. He doesn't say anything until Buck's laugh dies and silence falls. "About the lawsuit."

Buck freezes, his eyes wide. He felt lucky, human, that Captain Casey, hasn't mentioned it, and he has been extremely grateful for it. Now, the sky is falling, large sharp shards falling on him. "Is…Did—I…"

Realizing his mistake, Casey rises his arms—or he attempts to before he remembers his arms are fill. "Take a breath, Buckley." He pauses to give Buck a moment. "I was—am merely stating that only Boden and I know about the lawsuit, and it will remain like that, unless you feel the need to tell someone." His eyes drop to Buck's Adam apple, watching him thickly shallow.

"Okay. Thanks." Buck's shoulders relaxes and the tension, the unbearable heat, in his chest disappears. He held no belief that Casey and Boden would've told the firehouse, but it's nice to hear it.

"And oh, Severide won't treat you any difference if you tell him. In fact, he might understand more than most."

Buck's heart is in his mouth, Casey's words hitting him over the head. "I…Um…" He deeply breathes. "What?"

Casey stares at him, his eyes in narrow slits. "Or was I wrong?" He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the small twitch in Buck's right eye. "Do I need have a conversation with Severide? Him making you uncomfortable?"

"Y-you think…" If Buck has to label what he's feeling… well, okay, Severide makes him uncomfortable, though not in the way that Casey thinks. "No, he's fine." He chirps unevenly, fighting back the deep red working up his neck. "I'm just…um…a little nervous. You know… the lawsuit."

"Again, no one will know unless you want them to, but know, no one in this firehouse will judge you."

Buck exhales deeply, as his eyes waft up the driveway to the hanger. He spots a few firefighters, a few passing glances on them, but none stay for long. Casey may say it, and Buck wants to believe him, but he can't pull that trigger, not yet. "I…um…okay." He fumbles.

Casey just smiles. "Let's get you settled in."

*O*O*

"What is this?" Herrmann asks as Buck—minus his turnout gear—and Casey step into the kitchen/common room with their arms full of bags.

"Buckley decided to treat us on his first day," Casey answers, setting the bags in his hand on the countertop.

Mouch twists on the sofa, resting an arm on the back, and goes, "Oh really? Yup, I think you'll fit in just fine here. Glad to have you here."

Letting out a soft huff, Casey rolls his eyes and pat Buck on the shoulder. "See just give Mouch food and he's happy."

"Give any of us food and we're happy here." Herrmann challenges. "Not that hard."

"Wait, is Buckley joining 51?" Gallo asks, as he and Ritter abruptly halt in their spot and makes a wonky circle to step into the room.

Casey glances back at Buckley, checking non-verbally with him, for a second before he answers Gallo. "Yes, the new member of truck 81."

"That's awesome," Gallo exclaims loudly.

"Yes, welcome to the team." Ritter adds, equally as happy. "Maybe, you can help me reign in this idiot." He jabbers Gallo in the shoulder, which earns a "Hey!" from the man. Ritter is unbothered by Gallo's outburst and grin, "I think everyone in this fire house can agree you're a bit riskless."

"Within reason!" Gallo points in his finger in the air in protest.

Casey rolls his eyes, but he doesn't respond, his eyes on Buckley. "You regretting your decision yet?" he teases.

Buck hasn't said a single word, but he's enjoying the odd banter in this room and the amazing aura that fills the air. He can say the 51's reputation isn't a lie, and while he feels like a bag of jellies, he's not regretting his choice, that haunting loneliness lessening with each word. "Maybe just a tad bit," he laughs.

"Ouch, Buckley," Mouch robs at his chest, pretending to be hurt. "Ouch."

"So, what are you making?" Herrmann shaking his head at Mouch's over dramatics.

Rubbing at his nose, Buck sheepishly answers, "A take on chilaquiles." It isn't the traditional take, following Abuela special recipe. There're so many variations on this dish, not one dish is alike.

"A bold choice." Kidd walks in, her eyes automatically going to him.

Buck and Stella haven't had many one-on-one conversions, but her warm smile is always welcome. He meets her eyes and grins. He's a bit stun by how opened and friendly everyone is, which just wows him, and while he can hide behind the fact that they don't know about the lawsuit, Casey knows, and Casey is all smiles. "Don't worry. I was adopted by a Mexican Grandma."

That gets a few heads to turn. "I didn't know you were adopted." Gallo speaks, his eyes large.

"No, I'm not…" Buck pauses, noticing a few confused looks. How does he explain that his ex-best friend's grandma loved him more than her own grandson (No, no he kids- or is he)? Christopher laughs every time Isabel says it. Thanks to bartending in Peru, he knows some Spanish—not fluent though he can get around-, but Isabel's mutterings under her breath are just that to him. He's pretty sure she was shaking her head at him.

Kidd breaks out laughing. "Sounds like my Abuela, just dubbing and claiming all lost souls she can find."

"Is that a Latino thing?" Mouch asks, his eyebrow in his hairline

"No, that's a grandmother thing," Herrmann answers.

"Latinos Grandmothers just do it better and they stuff you more, leaving you unable to eat or move for days." Kidd adds. She glances up at the bags Buck has brought in, recognizing the store.

There's no denying that. Whenever he went over Isabel, she hadn't let him leave the table without 3 helpings, though Buck doesn't complain. He is a big guy, who can eat; plus, her food is always amazing, and his heart aches just thinking about how he may never eat her food again. It is a culture experience with her. "She—"

The alarm picks that moment to ring, sending everything running for the trucks. Running to truck 81, Buck gets a small glance of Kelly Severide, the determination on his face breathtaking. Buck spends the few minutes to the block that image from his head as he prepares himself for a fire. He can't let Severide distract him.

*O*O*

Captain Matt Casey is something else, and Buck spends the first few calls trying to figure it out. There're times that Buck sees Bobby in Casey, the strong, knowledgeable Captain who knows exactly what to do, but there're times where Casey is nothing like him, especially when Casey and Severide bounce ideas off each other. The trust between these two friends is obvious (not that it has ever been unclear). Overall, the more he follows Casey—who wants Buck to shadow him for the day—the more he likes the captain. Casey, who is considered a younger captain, is quite experienced, and when he has to be, harsh and firm.

Buck sees that first hand on their third call: a gas leak in a small apartment. He makes the harsh but correct call and keeps everyone back, the levels too high. They've been unable to confirm if all the residents are counted for, but going back in is too risky, the building going up at any moment. Gallo still pushes to go in, and honestly, Buck is right behind him, though he backs down the second Casey shake his head. Buck's not there yet: arguing with his captain. On the other hand, Gallo, who tries to argue his point, needs more than a shake of the head, and tries to go in. Nevertheless, Casey stands firm, and this point is affirmed when the building blows, throwing everyone to the ground.

And yet, while Casey is firm and unbending in his decision, he's also empathetic. He checks in with his crew, both mentally and physically, and just reconfirms his stance, which no one disagrees with now. Gallo deflates, but he's smiles seconds later when Casey makes a silly dad joke. "I could tell you guys a joke about pizza, but it's a little cheesy." It gets a few drama eyes rolls.

Buck, his eyes studying the captain's profile, is sure that if Casey wants to be mean, to rip into his crew to pieces, he could without breaking a sweat. The very idea of a pissed off Casey sends a shiver down his back, and he quickly pushes that thought out of his head. If he isn't ready to stand up to a mere look, Buck is totally not ready for an angry Casey.

"I'm ready for whatever Buckley has planned for Dinner." Mouch interjects.

Buck glances at Mouch, who sitting behind Casey (back-to-back) and across from Gallo. "Who's to say it's any good?" he jests, shifting uncomfortable in his chair. After Bobby's cooking lessons, Buck has grown to love cooking, especially when he spots smiles on everyone after they take a bite. Bobby liked—still likes- to hog the stove, but whenever Bobby gave him the chance (Pre-lawsuit), Buck took it and loved it, it feeling like an intimate gift. To him, it's a show of his love to his team. It's an impulse to cook for the 51 for again. Sure, he made Mac & Cheese, Bobby's recipe, but Abuela's chilaquiles are something else entire.

"I don't know," Kidd throws out. "That's Mac & Cheese was yummy. What did you put in that stuff?"

"I would say crack, but I'm sure Casey would…" Gallo peeps up at his captain, meeting his stare in the sideview mirror. He, with a nervous smile, stops and gives their fearless captain a thump up. "Yup, yup, we all can't wait."

With the complications it left for Bobby, there's a bad taste in his mouth when he thinks about it, but the pot brownies incident did bring up some laughs… well after the fact. Casey glances back and gives him that signature smile of his. Buck's chest goes light when their eyes meet. "Something you want to clue us into, Buckley?"

It takes a moment to slow his beating heart and allow his lungs to fully inflate. "Yea…Um," he breathily responds. "At my old firehouse in Los Angeles, we received brownies from a woman we saved from her snake."

"Oh, brownies. That's nice." Mouch says, ignoring the word 'snake'. He also pays no attention the eyes rolls directed at him. "I could go for brownies."

Buck takes his eyes off Casey and grins. "You…um…would think that, but they were… pot brownies. She didn't tell us that though." Looking down, he picks at a loosen string on his jacket

"Oh, no." Kidd injects from the front seat, which Gallo echoes.

"I bet everyone at fire station loved them." Casey, shaking his head, laughing.

They sure did. Buck thinks ironically in his head. "Everyone but one of our paramedics had one. The entire house, even our captain, was stoned out of our minds. Didn't kick in until we were on a call unfortunately."

"On a call? Geez," Mouch adds, both stunned and appalled. "Hope it wasn't a fire."

The 118 was lucky in the regard. "No, but we did end up in cuffs at the end of it, as we were loopy, and the cops didn't know what to do with us." Buck answers with a shrug.

"I hope you didn't get in trouble for that." Mouch states, his tone changing ever so slightly. "If I was your union rep, I could've gotten any misconduct dropped and then some."

Buck meets his eyes for a moment before he refocuses on the back of the driver side seat. He doesn't recall if they got their union rep involved, but they must've. "No, just couldn't go back until we tested clean." He doesn't mention the consequences to Bobby; no one needs to know that.

"So, no joking about crack in Buckley's food. Got it!" Gallo exclaims, just as fire house comes into view.

"Won't need it, right, Buckley?" Casey adds. "Your food is good enough on its own."

Once again, Buck's eyes are drilling into the side of Captain Casey's face. How can Casey be so sure that his food will be good? Unless the captain is just talking him up? However, he doesn't correct or challenge the Casey, not when Severide at the squad table draws his eyes as Kidd backs in the truck. NO, Buckley.

*O*O*

It's Buck's first official day at 51, and yet, Kelly only catches glances of him. At first, he's annoyed, but that feeling quickly dissipates when he spots the former Floater behind the steaming stove. Ritter and Gallo, who are doing most of the talking, are bookends to Buck as he cooks whatever he's cooking. Someone mentioned it, but Kelly is too focused on the smile on Buck's face. It's a hesitant smile, but a smile none the less. It's a strong contrast from his earlier smiles, which just throws Kelly's heart through a loop. Don't get him wrong Kelly likes any smile on his face, but he is curious about this specific smile. Is this Casey's doing? Why? Are jealous?

Leaning against the door frame, everyone disappears around him as Kelly gazes at Buck. There's a skip to his step, his shoulders lighter than ever. Yet, there's small twitch in his expression when Gallo and Ritter tease and joke too loudly about some nonsensical thing. Kelly, his heart thundering, just wants to pull Buck into his arms and take his troubles away. He doesn't. Casey's earlier words echo in his head, which are the only things stopping him, and while Kelly is not the most patient person, his best friend is right. Buck needs time, and once he's comfortable, he may be up to sharing. Hopefully, Kelly doesn't feel the need to murder people afterward.

"You know a photo will last longer."

Kelly blinks, his head whipping around until he spots Brett, Foster, and Stella behind him. He has no idea when the ladies popped up next to him, but this isn't the first time they have done so. At times, he wonders if these three ladies are ninjas, especially Brett. "What?" he asks, his cheeks hot, as he purposely ignores her statement.

With a large cheesy smile, Stella punches Kelly gently in the shoulder and knowingly winks at him before she says, "I'm going to check on Buckley. His chilaquiles smells heavenly." She gives Kelly one more smile, a smile he rarely sees on her anymore, before she crosses to the stove. Buck looks up at her just in time to see her steal a chip.

"It's wonderful to see Buckley settling in so nicely, and that smile looks good on him. I would hate for anything happen to it." Brett says nonchalantly as she shots both Kelly and Foster a cheeky smile. "I would hate to get my hands dirty." With that, she steps away, heading toward Casey who's sitting at the end of the table with a clip board.

"I would hate to piss off Brett." Foster adds as she crosses the room to join Stella. "I put my money on her."

Kelly just stands there blinking. Did Brett just threaten him? And over what? Over hurting Buck? There's not a chance in hell that he would purposely do that. He and Brett want the same thing: for Buck to be comfortable here.

*O*O*

Buck stands back, cleaning up his mess, as everyone lines up for a serving of chilaquiles. While all eyes are on the food—which smells amazing-, Kelly's eyes are on Buck, who looks positively nervous as he sets one of the pans into the sink. The confidence that was in his steps seconds ago is gone, replaced by his familiar timidness. Rocking back on his feet, Buck bits down on his lip and rubs his hands together. He peeps over his shoulder every few seconds, his eyes bouncing to everyone's face… well, everyone but his. Buck is pointedly avoiding Kelly's eyes.

However, there is no hiding his worried expression, the tiny downward turn of his lips. His eyes dart anytime someone meets his eyes. Seeing Buck smiling minutes prior and seeing him now, Kelly has whip lash. He knows Casey is right: Buck needs time to feel comfortable with them, to know they're here for him, but Kelly really f*cken hates this. He wants to plow through all of Casey's warnings and charge into whatever this is head first, especially when Buck looks like a sad puppy. Those beautiful eyes are not allowed to look that sad. Who the f*ck hurt this man?

Yet, it doesn't seem like the frown has a home on his face as a rowdy roar of approval echoes across the small, cramped room. Sure, the smile is nervous, but it's still a smile, a nice, sweet smile. A massive improvement. "This is amazing," Stella grins as she hums her praise at him. "How did we get so lucky?"

"I don't know, but this is damn perfect. Matches the cook," Foster winks, Buck going red. Kelly's eye twitches.

"Not bad at all," Herrmann states with a head bob.

"I did not expect this from a white boy," Cruz laughs, as he takes another bit.

Brett shoots an odd look at Cruz before she goes, "nothing surprises me about Buckley." She gives Buck a gentle, soft smile. This echoes with the rest of the crew, not a frown in the room.

Casey finishes his plate and unexpectedly gets to his feet, waving his hand at Buck. "Hey, hey. Where I come from, the cook doesn't do dishes." He quickly marches up the sink, a playful stern expression on his face, and promptly snatches the frying pan from his hand.

"Wait! Since when," Gallo asks, his face scrunched up, as his index finger points up like a raised hand. "Because like…" He drops said finger and points it directly into his chest.

From the outside in looking in, Kelly will admit that doesn't make sense, the three of them the 'babies' of the firehouse but considering Buck has spent most nights cleaning the firehouses, he's glad that Casey has taken the pan from Buck. Granted, it's another reminder that Casey knows something he doesn't. "Well," Kelly says slowly, finishing his plate. "Maybe, we just like Buck's cooking more." He eyes the red blooming on Buck's neck.

"You are questioning that?" Capp asks, ignoring Kelly's teasing as he waves briskly at Casey. "Since when does Casey do the dish?"

Casey turns, putting a soft hand Buck's shoulder, and turns to the chatter group with a sharp eye. "Are you offering to help?" He holds out the pan presenting it to Capp, who just shakes his head with a large chuckle. "Then why don't you—" The captain doesn't finish the statement, as a familiar bell rings throughout the entire house. Every company besides Squad 3 jump to their feet. "Well, I guess we all know who's doing the dishes." Casey laughs as slaps the wet rag in front of Capp.

Kelly's eyes are on Buck, who dashes out of the room with the rest of the companies. That nervousness and redness vanishes, Buck looking like a seasoned pro-fighter. "Severide," Capp whines.

Taking his eyes off the now empty hallway, Severide's eyes meet Capp's, and he replies, "Sorry, Captain's orders." Besides, Kelly isn't going to do…. well, he'll do them just to stop Buck from doing so, but Capp does not get that same protection.

*O*O*

Hours later, night has fallen. Exhaustion hangs in his shoulder and his breathing, but sleep doesn't come for Kelly. Instead, he is on his feet and walks the firehouse, while it sleeps—well, mostly everyone. Mouch, offering to be the night watch, is sitting on the sofa, too engrained in the Television to pay attention to Kelly. Granted, Kelly is too deep in his own thoughts to say anything. His thoughts are all over the place, most of them he can't make heads or tails of, but the night breeze does feel good on his chammy face.

He walks the station a few times before he noticed a lone figure sitting on the brick wall at the end of the driveway. Kelly takes a few steps, his mind trying to work out who it is. It takes a few seconds, his eyes in painful slits, before Buck's face comes to mind. Suddenly like a switch has been hit, he sees Buck clearly, and he quickens his steps, his currently thought process morphing. "Whatcha doing out here?" he asks when he finally reaches Buck.

Buck, flinching ever so slightly, keeps his head up, his eyes on the night sky. "Looking up at the stars."

Kelly's eyes pop up to the night sky, scanning the bright night—counting only a few stars-, before he turns back to Buck's darken face, hidden by the harsh shadows. "What stars?" He hums. Very few stars are visible. "It's too bright for stars here. If you really want to see a skyful of stars, you'll have to go elsewhere." 'I can show you' hangs on his tongue, but he can't find it in him to say it. Instead, he goes, "Is something wrong?"

This time, Buck peeks at him from the corner of his eyes. The blues of his eyes is hidden under the dim light. "Can't sleep." He simply states as he tills his head back up, his eyes on the sky. "You?" His voice cracks.

"Same." Kelly answers, as he follows the lines of Buck's face, stopping at his chiseled jaw. He has a striking profile. "But I know better than to try to get some star watching tonight." He chuckles, his smile large.

"Casey told me I'm not allowed to clean the station, so…." He drifts off.

So, have I. Kelly thinks bitterly. He shakes that thought from his head, and without an invitation, takes a seat next to him. He takes notice of the shiver in Buck's shoulder. "He did that, because we want you as a teammate, not a maid." Unable to resist the urge, he rocks to his left and gently bump Buck in the shoulder with his own.

Startled, Buck whips his head around, his eyes burning into Kelly's. "I…um…" He slams his mouth shut and takes a deep breath before exhaling. After a few seconds of silence, he goes, "I know."

It feels like a broken record, but damn, Kelly has so many questions. No. Shaking his head, he leans back and smiles softly. "Just know I'm here if you ever need to chat."

Buck's chest inflates ever so slowly, scrutinizing—which is what it feels like—every twitch in Kelly's face. After a few long moments, he finally says, breathily, "I know. I-" He, shuddering, turns away, his eyes back on the star lacking sky.

Okay, no more pushing, Kelly silently notes to himself. "Question," he starts, changing the subject. Once more, Buck's eyes drop to him, his expression a mixture of curiosity and confusion. "How did you end up in Chicago?" No, Kelly doesn't consider that push as he doesn't ask why he left LA.

At first, Kelly isn't sure Buck is going to answer, biting down on his bottom lip, as he just stares at him, but he goes, "It wasn't my destination. When I…um… left LA, I just drove." He pauses, puffing out his chest. "If it wasn't for a row of pamphlets at a gas station I stopped at, I would've gone in a different direction. No idea where I would've ended up, but seeing all of the attractions, I decided to drive the entirety of Route 66, which put me in Chicago."

"You like taking cross the country road trips?"

Buck nods. "I love driving and exploring this country. So much to see out there." A fond look crosses his eyes.

Kelly's heart starts to dream a road trip with Buck, just the two of them, finding all the hidden gems in each state. He would love to see Buck's face light up with each find. "And you decided to stay?"

Buck shakes out the shiver in his shoulders and musters up a weak smile. "Probably your fault."

"My fault?" Kelly asks, his eyebrow in his hairline. Before Buckley floated at 51, he had no idea who Buck was. How is this his fault?

"…Um… Maybe. Can't give you names." Buck nervously robs at his nose. "I just remember Squad 3 showing up," Buck answers, nodding back to the truck. "It could've been a different shift."

Kelly stills as he goes through his memories, though that's pretty much a lost cause. He gets too many calls to remember them all. Heck, he would be surprised if he remembers someone from a few shifts ago. "What?"

"When I first arrived in Chicago, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but while I was sitting on the shoreline, I heard screaming and the familiar sound of a roaring fire. The firefighter in me had me on my feet in no time and rushing into the blaze without thinking." He pauses, his eyes glazing over for a moment. "I know pretty stupid-"

"No," Kelly interrupts forcefully. Even if it can be argued that running into a fire without gear is highly dangerous and extremely risky, he won't let Buck call himself stupid. That's a no go for Kelly. Besides, everyone in this house would do the same. Him included. "I can't say I wouldn't do the same. Any good firefighter would have. You're a good firefighter. Don't doubt your instincts."

Buck's head twists, his blue eyes go large as he stares at Kelly. His cheeks color. "I…Yea…" He stammers.

Kelly's chest constricts, his heart beating way too fast. God, why does it feel like this when he is around Buck? "And if Casey yells at you for following those instincts—yes, it happens to the best of us-, don't take it personally. Casey does it because it will kill him if someone happens to any of us." Andy comes to mind, but Buck's grin chases the haunting sadness away.

"Happens to you?"

"Oh, yes all the time. Just yesterday in fact that Casey gave me an ear full." Kelly laughs, which earns a small grin from Buck. "But anyways, let's not talk about Casey. What happen in that fire?" He is still racking his mind over it.

"Obviously, I made it out," Buck teases, his voice lighter than before.

"Yes, obviously." Unexpectedly, Buck rocks and returns Kelly's shoulder bump from earlier. Kelly narrows his eyes, watching something bloom deep within Buck. He has been seeing it all day, but this is the first time it has been directed at him. "Ass." He calls Buck teasingly as he sends the shoulder bump right back at him, putting more force into it.

"Well, I did." Buck sasses, knocking right back at Kelly. For some unexpected reason, Kelly's playfulness comes out, and he takes this as a challenge and pushes right back, which the former floater doesn't take laying down. Buck's shy, nervous grin transforms right in front of Kelly, and he's all cheeks, that familiar bold firefighter confidence shining through. He tilts to the side, putting a foot between them before he sways back into Kelly.

Kelly, bobbing to the side, co*cks his head to the side, his eyes in narrow slits. "Oh, that's how it is?" he goads, lightheartedly. He's grinning so hard it hurts.

Buck, laughing, throws his hands up as he sees something in Kelly's face. "Okay, I give. I give." He puts on an innocent smile, puffing out his bottom lip, as he peeps at Kelly through his eyebrows.

Is the air getting light? Kelly thickly shallows, getting a bit light headed, as he stares into Buck's eyes. Everything freezes, and Buck is all he can see. His heart stops as images of kissing Buck fills his head: gripping Buck by the back of the neck and holding him still as he lays a soft kiss to his rosy lips before biting ever so gently on his bottom lip. Wait, what? It hits him like a freight truck, the air in his lung suddenly gone. Kelly Severide wants to kiss Evan 'Buck' Buckley, and he wants to kiss him more than anything, which is such an odd feeling. He has never felt this light before about anyone. It has—Stop, Severide, his mind tries to reason with him. Kelly knows he needs to as Buck needs a friend more than a straight guy—a mostly straight guy?—pondering his sexuality.

sh*t, what the hell is this? This isn't the first time he thought about this topic, but crap, Kelly is into women. Yet, he wants to press his lips against Buck's and just run his hands up Buck's shirt. Everything is moving and before Kelly realizes it, he's leaning in, his eyes dropping to Buck's lips. They are just-

Buck suddenly jerks away and turns away from Kelly, his focus is anywhere except Kelly. His red face is mostly hidden by the dark shadows on his face. "But yea!" he exclaims very loudly. "I made it out with the father and son combo. It's a blur now, but I remember a lieutenant helping be back to an ambulance, while a few others help the father and son."

Just like that, Kelly feels like someone has knocked his feet out from beneath him. That lightheadedness is gone, and he feels empty. He refuses to blame Buck for this, as this is on him for feeling something that Buck is not. Buck is looking for a home, a safe place to land, as he runs from a painful past, and no doubt, he isn't looking for a relationship with a man who has no idea what he is. Like really, Kelly isn't into men, and yet…

Buck takes a deep breath, snapping Kelly out of his thoughts. "I just remember seeing the Squad 3 logo and realizing what I wanted. I want to be a firefighter."

Pushing away that emptiness, Kelly puts on a smile and redirects his focus on Buck's words. "And the rest is history," he utters breathily, shocked by it all. He ignores the desire deep in his gut and focuses on their conversion. Chicago is anything but a small city, and yet, Squad three was there when Buck decided to stay in Chicago, which means something. And Buck was helped to the ambulance by a lieutenant? Squad 3 has 3 different lieutenants, and to add, it could've been a different lieutenant from one of the other trucks. Yet, Kelly needs it to be him.

A random car drives buy, drawing both of Kelly and Buck's focus. A frustrated annoyance rolls off the both of them at the small interruption, though Kelly is somewhat glad since it cuts though his haze. "I can't say I regret it." Buck says over the rumble of the noisy car.

"I'm glad." Kelly says, as he watches Buck force his eyes back to the sky. "How long have you been in Chicago now?"

"Um," Buck utters, biting down on his bottom lip. "Three months?"

Kelly, pointing his eyes away from Buck's kissable—f*ckable too… f*ck…—lips, isn't sure what he expected, but that isn't it. "Have you explored the city yet?" Why is he a dog in heat?

Buck shots him a sideway, sheepish glance. That shimmer of confidence replaced by his trademark nervousness. "…No. I meant to, but nope. I…um… wanted to go to the Gangsters and Ghosts Tour, but never got a chance."

"Then why not go?"

"I…um…I don't know."

Against his better judgement, Kelly lets his eye wander and his thoughts drift, wondering if Buck knows how adorable he is with each um. "Give me your phone."

Blue eyes met his, as he shakily goes for his phone in his pocket. "Why?"

Without hesitation—okay, maybe a little-, Kelly reaches for the phone, his fingers tingle when they touch. Why does he feel so warm now? "Because we're going on the Gangsters and Ghosts Tour." He offers, again against his better judgement. However, he's doing for Buck, not for him to use him to figure out what he's feeling. Buck needs friends.

Buck's expression drops, his eyes going large. "Um… Wait? What? I…" A string of words follows, but Kelly has no luck in decoding any of them.

"Me and you, the Gangsters and Ghosts Tour." It takes a tad more strength than Kelly anticipates to wiggle the phone out of Buck's hand, but when he does, he quickly calls himself to get Buck's number in his call logs and add saves his own number to Buck's phone. Just friends. He tells himself. "And afterward, I can show you all of us locals' favorite spots."

"You…um… don't have to do that." Buck shots out.

For a second as he hands back Buck's phone, Kelly worries he has overstepped (especially since his dick is twitching), but there's a flicker in Buck's face, a flash of hope in his eyes. "You're right. I don't have to. I want to."

Taking a deep breath, Buck nods and says, "Okay, I would like that"

"Then it's a date." But not a date, his mind reasons. Buck is not going to be his test subject for his sexual urges.

Buck, very pointedly, looks away, a shiver running through his body. "Yea, sure."

Kelly grins, his smile taking up his entire face. "So, what day works for-" Just like the co*ck blocker that it is—not that it needs to co*ck block Kelly-, the bell rings, waking the entire house. There a resonating grunt echoing from the house as every company is called. Kelly can't help but internally groan too. "We better get to work."

Chapter 12: Yesterday's Traumas

Chapter Text

Chapter 12:

Yesterday's Traumas

Years Prior

Evan loves traveling the country and doing the oddest job—even the dirtiest ones, but after a year or so on the road, he needs more. He needs to be part of something more. He needs… God, he just wants more. With his postcard conversations with Maddie one-sided and no parental relationship in sight, he has pretty much been alone and drowning in the urge to belong. He did connect with his co-workers whenever possible, but each felt off, the connection just fuzzing. He doesn't know how to fix it… Okay, he has an idea: being open and honest, but he has walled off his past, his traumas, and he doesn't want to even think about them. That pain has no place in his life.

For a while, he continues his way of life and does nothing, but when he walks past a recruitment center for the U.S. Armed forces, he stops, thinking he can do something good. Though he is clueless of who he is, he knows he wants to help people, and when he hears the reverence in someone voice regarding the Navy Seals—these near superheroes who are willing to lay down for strangers – and their loyalty, he jumps without looking. This could be his family. He should have looked—not that he would have changed his mind, but he still should have looked.

Hell Week is exactly what it sounds like. It's hell with all of the stereotypical blood, tears, and screams. It's only the third day of this sh*t week, and Evan feels like death. He's doubting everything as he watches the Seal Candidates drop like flies. And he means like flies. Evan watched six men tap out in a matter of minutes and one just collapsed, unable to even stand. Evan, his heart pulsing, is right there with him, every muscle in his body burns, but he can't voice the words 'I quit,' even if he wants to. The cold water feels like daggers dragging on his skin, and the only thing in his stomach is acid, which he tastes on his parched tongue. There's an exhaustion in Evan's body that he has never fault before as sleep has been nonexistence this week, even if his head had hit the pillow.

Yet, Evan does not quit.

He will not quit.

This is the first time in a year that he hasn't felt empty.

"Really to give up, Seaman?" A commander screams in Evan's ear. "Ready to crawl back to your mommy?"

With the roar of the ocean behind him, Evan barely hears the commander even if the man is inches from his ears. "N-o, Sir." He croaks.

The Commander, ignoring the icily waves that strike at them and the rest of personal on the beach, knees down next to Evan and drills into him. "I can't hear you. What did you say?" He demands.

"No, Sir. I got this," Evan yells, physically resisting the urge to twitch. His entire body is screaming at him, his mind pleading for sleep. If any other words are said, Evan doesn't hear them. His eyes gloss over as he tries to place himself anywhere else but here. He can't give up. He needs to do this. He needs to keep stay here, where he's valuable. Evan hasn't told anyone that he's trying out for the Seals, just walking into a Navy recruitment center with a determined look on his face. He hid behind a co*cky smile, but his insides twisted on him, every insult his parent has ever said to him echoing back to him.

You aren't good enough.

You are a nobody.

You are unlovable.

You are worthless.

No one will ever want you.

While some might see it as counterproductive, Evan uses those familiar words and bathes in them. His entire childhood has prepared him for this and given him a rock-hard armor. This's nothing compared to that household. Having watched several candidates work themselves into the ground by trying to use sheer strength, Evan places himself in himself in his old childhood with his unloving parents. It keeps the pain and the chilly water from eating at his resolve. If he can survive a childhood with them, he can do this. This is nothing.

Evan can handle this.

He will be valuable.

No matter how often he hears the familiar sounds of a brass ship's bell ringing, he will not give up.

*O*O*

In some twist of fate, Hell Week passes, and Evan is still here. The training gets more intensive, but they're allowed a few more hours of sleep a night. Not a whole lot more, but hey, that hour does wonders. Sure, there's a permanent layer of exhaustion built up on his skin, but it has his blood pumping and keeps him up right on his feet, which he needs for the next phase of training. God, it's a godsent with what follows next.

Evan, his heart in his throat, knows it's coming, his hair standing up, but getting grabbed from behind and dragged beneath the icy water is something you'll never get used to. No matter how many times he has gone through his, he nearly chokes when the instructor pulls him under. He knows he's in a controlled environment, but panic creeps, sending him to a quick 'death' and he breathes water like air, which the instructor rails him for. Those words hang over his head like a fog from the physical discomfort, the chilly water burning his nasal cavity, but sh*t, all of that is forgotten when he turns the table on the instructor the next time.

A loud roar pierces his eardrums as Evan breaks the surface of the water, the cheer of his fellow candidates boasting his ego. His lungs are on fire, but he's grinning like a mad man. After weeks and weeks of this training, cracks begin to form in his armor, but this cheer reenergizes him. While not everyone is friendly—the rivalry too great in such small numbers—, a deep bond forms between the some of the guys and him, which evens out the sh*t they face in training day in and out. The camaraderie of his barrack is everything and more for Evan; the friendship formed under these stressful situations is the reason why many of them are still here, including Evan. It stuns him how important each of these guys are to him as they tease each other relentlessly.

"sh*t, Buckley, I thought you were a goner."

Evan, co*cky as ever, sh*t grins. "You're just jealous."

"The only thing any of us are jealous of is those baby blues eyes! How many times have you turn those bad boys on someone?" There's a round of 'yea' in the barracks, follows by some loud hushes.

"sh*t, just think about all the tail he gets with those eyes."

There's no denying his blue eyes got some pants to drop, both male and female. "My eyes don't help me out there." He nods to the wall, though referring to beyond these wall.

"You know what? I can't wait until I can throw your ass out of a plane."

Evan snorts. "I can't wait until your pee yourself. Will feel bad for the guys below you."

"I don't think it works like that due to the velocity. Ever hear of peeing into the wind?"

There's a pause. "Okay, I'm not jumping behind you." Evan announces. This odd, make shift family is everything that Evan ever wants. No matter what else he is feeling- mentality or physically-, he will fight for this.

*O*O*

With the candidates dwelling down over the weeks, the more eyes Evan feels on his back and the more pit grows in his stomach. As the training gets harder, the doubts get louder in his head, and they get even rowdier when the guy that he's closest to gets sent home for failing a requirement. The guy's score was only a half a second passed the permitted time and was given no allowances. Evan's confidence, his convictions, takes a massive hit when this buddy leaves. The allusions of family he creates shatters, and the desire to bolt is intense. Maybe, it's his parent's fault, their lack of love turning him into this… Whatever this is.

With his buddy gone, he's itching to follow, though the reasonable parts of him are shouting that he can't just follow people home. What the hell is wrong with him to even think that's an opinion? Evan huffs and shakes those thoughts out his head, as he tries to refocus and collect his thoughts. He, hiding behind his crushed armor, has lost count how many weeks- months he has been here, time blending together.

"You okay, Seaman Buckley?"

"Ah…" Evan's head pops up, his eyes snapping away from his unpacked duffle to the door. "Commander." He greets, going for a salute, but the man waves it off with a shake of the head, while giving Evan a warm smile.

Ever since they completed their BUD/S training and are the mid-way of their Qualification Training, Evan has been spotting more current Seal team leaders. He isn't sure if this is normal, but Evan has clocked them observing the top recruits, hovering like hawks, likely deciding which one they want. Evan doesn't expect to garner much interest, even if he passes each test with a nice cushion. While the others taunt and puff out their chest like some peaco*ck, he cares more about teamwork then finishing with the top scores.

However, it seems like this strategy has caught this Commander's eye. "Buckley?"

Evan takes a deep breath and returns the smile. A nervous smile that is. He's waiting for someone to notice he's an imposter, that his armor was a lie. "I…"

"You know," The Commander cuts him off. "What's your feeling is normal."

"What?" Evan expresses, just blinking in his shook.

Without an invitation, the Commander takes a seat next to Evan on the bunk, the barracks surprisingly empty. "I know in our line out business, this tends to be forgotten, but what you're feeling is normal. I would be worried if you weren't." He pauses. "Don't get me wrong. There're times where you'll need to stuff it in a box. However, we can't expect emotional robots even if that's what most are looking for. That isn't what I'm looking for."

"What are you looking for?"

"I don't need a co*cky asshole holding a gun. Holding a gun is easy. Everyone here can hold a gun."

With countless successful evaluation, Evan doesn't doubt his ability to hold a gun. It's whether he can point his gun at a real person and pull the trigger. "Sir."

"I need a team player, someone who puts the team first. I need a man who's aware of his downfalls."

Evan side eyes the Commander, his brain trying to wrap itself round what he's hearing. "Who says I'm a team player?"

"I've been watching you, Buckley. Have seen you penalize yourself in order to help the guy next to you. You put your fellow Seaman before yourself. A trait any good commander would want." He shrugs his shoulders, and with a big smile, adds, "And it doesn't hurt that you're a damn good shot."

"Sir…I…" Evan doesn't know what to say, surprised to hear such praise from a man as decorated as him.

"Whatever you're thinking, remember you wouldn't be here if you couldn't hack it." The man smiles. "You just need the right leadership, Buckley."

Evan's eyes drop from the man's face to the name tag on his chest, and he suddenly filled with a new resolution, his doubts beaten back. While he has no say in whatever team he is placed on—if he makes it through training-, he's going to be placed under Commander's—Commander McGarrett- command. "Thank you, Commander McGarrett."

"No problem. Just keep your head up, Buckley." He pats Evan on the shoulder.

Evan will never tell anyone how close he has been to leaving that day, though he will thank McGarrett many times over in the upcoming year. If Evan had been placed under any other commander, his Seal Career would've never gotten off the ground, washing out after their first assignment. McGarrett helps him see they're more than armed killers; they are a shield. And Evan will always consider him a friend/Family, a man worthy of postcards.

*O*O*

Present

Buck's first official shift after being made a permanent member of 51 is nearly done, only an hour left, and he can't say he hasn't enjoyed it. Sure, everyone is grumpy, having just gotten back to the station barely 30 minutes ago from a call, and were robbed several hours of sleep, but Buck, on the other hand, is jittery, hopping around the station like a rabbit on crack. Besides feeling like a rockstar from their last call, his hand still burns from where Severide's touched him, the not—definitely not—date hanging above him. This warm sensation in his gut is familiar, experiencing it a few times in his life. The one time that stands out is the first time that he switched the safely off on his gun.

Not wanting to annoy anyone with his jitters—which is bound to happen as Buck is jackhammering across the floor-, Buck keeps to himself. Catching Casey's probing stare, he keeps away from the broom and anything cleaning related items. He pretends not to see Gallo and Ritter who are arguing about something and wanting Buck as a tiebreaker. With their level of excitement, Buck is a bit scared to ask why, though he can't help but find it amusing; however, they might be a bit much for Buck right now.

"How much coffee did you have this morning, Buck?" Brett shoots from inside the ambulance.

Buck twists around and beams at Brett. He doesn't know why he feels at ease with her, but he aways does. Brett seemingly knows what he needs before he does, including distracting Severide when he gets to fluster… which happens a lot. He, his chest tingling, doesn't put too much thought into why. "Believe it or not, none." Coffee is the last thing he wants right now as he is already hopping off the walls. Plus, he wants to f*cken sleep when his head touches his pillow.

Brett, looking up from her clipboard, gives him a cynical yet amused look. "Really?"

"Not one drop." He chuckles, as he steps to the back of the ambulance, checking out what she is doing. "And whatcha doing?" With so little time left before the shift change, he expects her to be watching the clock like the rest of then.

"I'm being nice." Brett laughs. Working on limited sleep, the entire house is being cantankerous, and everyone is instinctively keeping a good distance.

Buck nods as he peeps into the back of the rig. He has been in quite a few ambulances and seen quite a few sets up, an open mirror of the paramedic in charge. Brett's set up—though not massively different—is distinct from others he has seen. "Need any help?" he asks. Yes, he's looking for busy look, but he can't deny that he has always been curious considering how many times he ended up in the hospital. Literally everyone he has ever served under has called him a danger magnet without fail… well besides Casey, but he doesn't count yet. It has only been a day. Give him time.

Brett grins. "I'll never say no." Without another word, Buck climbs in and settles down next to her, who side eyes him curiously. "I don't think a firefighter has ever offered to help before." She chuckles. "Are you paramedic certified? Or just bored?"

"Not certified," he answers. "However, I have some training. Never finished, but it wasn't because of lack of interest." Buck looked into it after the first time he had a teammate's blood on him and, with McGarrett's approval, took a few courses. Back at the 118, Hen had showed him some of the ropes while Bobby signed him up in the classes, though that took a backseat with the lawsuit.

"So already squad certified and now, you want to be paramedic certified?" Brett reaches for gloves, counting the unopen boxes with her fingers before she notes it on the inventory sheet. "You won't leave anything for the rest of us."

Buck gives her a huge teethy grin. "I just like to learn new things." He's a sponge when it comes to knowledge, soaking in anything anyone gives him. He blames Maddie for that, who had fostered that love in him by reading to him every night when he was a kid. "Besides, it never hurts to have another teammate in trained in case someone gets hurt." An image flashes before his eyes, his hand soaked in blood. He shakes his head to prevent that image to take hold.

Brett's head bobs up and down in agreement. "I second that." She smiles. "If you want, I can give you some pointers."

"I…" The word is rough on his tongue, Buck's fears roaring up for a moment. Panic hits. No! With a deep breath, he smashes it down. Brett's smile is too bright for his fears to withstand it. "I would like that."

"Great."

Brett—Sylvie for him now— goes over her normal routine for the remainder of shift with Buck. Quite a few jokes and random facts are exchanged between the two, which draws a few stares and head turns. Buck, his side hurting, is too engrossed to notice any of it. Casey, however, ducks in a few times to check on them. "You guys are having too much fun." He teases on the last time.

"Too much fun? Never." Sylvie grins.

Casey's eyes narrow into fine points, the ends of his lips curved up ever so slightly. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're trying to steal one of my firefighters."

Sylvie gives him a playful affronted look. "I would never!" She pauses for dramatic affect. "He will come willingly."

"Why is everyone trying to steal Buckley?" Casey spiritedly huffs and rolls his eyes.

Everyone? As his brain starts to go into overdrive, Buck smacks it down and doesn't voice this question, contributing it to their playful flirting. He clocked the weirdness between Sylvie and Casey the first time he has seen them sneak glances at each other, but after the first shift under Casey, he can taste it in the air. Buck doesn't know their history, but why aren't these two together?

Sylvie wiggles pass Buck and hops off the ambulance to stand across from Casey. "What? Just look at him." She waves at Buck, who gives her a cheeky grin as if that answers everything. Casey follows her pointing but doesn't say anything verbally, his raised eyebrow saying it all. "I'm just thinking of all the stairs in Chicago and how helpful he would be."

Casey laughs. "I can give you someone else."

"Why are you offering?" Sylvie shots back.

Buck rolls his eyes and laughs—with his entire body-, reminding the two not love birds of his presence. Were he and Eddie this bad? Because if they were, he owes the entirety of the 118 (well, if he was on speaking terms with them) a steak dinner. "I'll leave you two here to…argue." He shots out, breathily. He hops out of the ambulance, his eyes dropping to his wristwatch. He doesn't need to, however, as he can hear the next shift stepping into 51, their voices echoing off the wall.

There's a tint in Casey's cheeks as he goes, "We aren't fighting. Just making sure that everyone knows you're on truck."

"If he wants to help us paramedics…" Sylvie teases. Buck, his smile so big it hurts, simply shakes his head and heads to the locker room, allowing Sylvie and Casey to flirt—or whatever they are doing—in private.

Sweaty and dirty, he doesn't feel the urge to change into his street clothes, which seems to be the general consensus. Only a few opt to change their clothes, one being Severide. f*cken Severide. f*cken shirtless Severide.

Why does this man have to be so beautiful? Does he know how hot he is? How unfair it is for everyone around him? What god did Buck piss off? Being as sneaky as he can, he, with a deep huff, ducks behind a row of lockers and zips to his, his whole being on fire. 'Don't look. Don't look.' He chants in his head. There're two reasons for this: one, -being obvious-a shirtless Severide is dangerous, and two, while he has agreed to this 'date', he isn't sure he's ready for it. His heart is pounding in his chest thinking about it. Don't get him wrong he wants to explore Chicago with him, but he isn't sure his raw emotions can take it.

Fortunately, Buck—his Seal training and all the mornings after—is able to sneak past Severide and makes it down the driveway before anyone notices. Unfortunately, that's where his luck runs out as he spots Adam, arms folded across his chest, leaning against his jeep at the bottom of the driveway. The officer no doubt he thinks he looks nifty as he leans back with his large black sunglasses, a coffee in his hand. "What are you doing here?" Bucks asks when he gets within 3 feet from him.

Adam offers Buck a cheeky smile and a coffee. "Get in the jeep and I'll explain." He answers.

Buck hesitantly takes the coffee, observing Adam cynically. "My sister told me never to get into cars with strangers. You know, stranger danger."

His now free hand, Adam pushes down his sunglasses so he can nail Buck with an overdramatic, sarcastic eyeroll. "I don't think she considered officers in that."

"You'll be amazed." Adam would be surprised how many life lessons Maddie has instilled into him… Buck may not listen to them all, but they're there in the back of his head. "What about my Jeep?" he asks, getting serious. He doesn't want to get suck anywhere, especially when he is still learning Chicago.

"We'll come back for it. Come now."

Buck stands there for a moment, pondering, as Adam straightens up and rounds his jeep "Fine." He huffs as he opens door to the Jeep, throws his bag in the back and climbs in. While both Adam and he both drives jeeps, Buck prefers his, his Jeep being his safe place. Granted, the only thing he prefers right now is his own bed. Well, a shower first than bed.

"Good." Adam nods. "Just don't spill that in here."

"Then why did you give it to me if you're so worried." Buck over dramatically swirls the coffee.

Adam narrows his eyes dangerously at the coffee. "Watch it!" he yells, snatching the cup from Buck. The shotty throw away cup bends under his harsh grip, and the lid pops off, the brown, warm liquid spraying them both.

Buck is not impressed as Adam curses. "You're the one who snatched it out of my hand!"

"You had a long shift, and I was trying to be nice!" Adam hisses, as he sets—a bit too forcefully—it into the cup holder. Frantically, he scans the Jeep, looking for a napkin to wipe up the spilled coffee.

"If you were nice, you would let me go home and sleep." Buck huffs, grimacing. "And it'll be fine." It wouldn't be fine if it was Buck's Jeep, but it isn't his. Yes, it may be the lack of sleep talking, but Buck can barely spare any concern for the Jeep's interior. Using the edge of his CFD shirt as a rag, he wipes down the center console. "See, fine."

Adam grunts as his right hand goes to the ignitions and twists the key. "You're just going to make it sticky."

"It's fine!" Buck, waving him off, ignores Adam mumbles and settles back in the seat as his pocket vibrates. Rocking to his side, he fishes out his phone just as Adam starts to pull away from the curb. His heart is in his throat when a name flashes on his screen: Kelly Severide. Buck's head snaps up, his eyes flying up the driveway, and everything just stops when he notices Casey and Severide staring. Unable to take their intense gaze, Buck turns away and looks down at phone and the haunting message.

"You okay over there?"

Buck keeps his eyes down as he shakily goes, "Yup, fine." With a deep breath and against his better judgement, he unlocks his phone and opens the text message. His chest gets uncomfortably tight.

Are you okay?

Adam glances over. "Are you okay?"

Buck blinks, his mind blanking as Adam unintentionally echoes Severide's text. "Yea, yea." He utters, as he darkens the screen without replying. However, it doesn't stay dark as another text pops up, the message stretching across his screen. It's another message from Severide.

Is something wrong?

Yes, you! Again, Buck doesn't answer it and tucks his phone into his picket. "Where're we going?" he asks, biting on his bottom lip.

"To eat. My treat."

*O*O*

While Buck wants to sleep—barely able to keep his eye open-, he can't say no to food, his stomach growling like a lion. Though, he highly doubts Adam picked him up at the station for a stack of pancakes, no matter how heavenly they look. "So, what's up?" he asks when they sit down at their table. He feels out of place in his dirty uniform, though that may be in his head. If he looks around, he will see that he isn't out of place, fitting right in, as everyone looks like they just got off a night shift, exhaustion hanging off their frames.

"What?" Adam grins innocently. "Can't friends take friends out for breakfast?"

No. Just no. There may be this lively banter between them, but they aren't friends, Adam simply needing him for a cover. Yea, but he's the closest thing you have to a friend. His mind supplies, which is a kick the gut. That's what hurts the most: the losing that support system. The 118 were everything to him, filling in that empty pit in his gut. Yes, it's a good possibility that the 51 will become his family, especially with Sylvie, Casey, and Severide leading the charge. "Not with you. So, what's up?"

"Okay. Okay." Adam puts his hand up in a mock surrender. "There's more, but don't worry about it. Just eat." His eyes scan the diner, which doesn't go unnoticed.

That just makes Buck worries more, but he doesn't push, too tired to argue. Instead, he puts in his order, a large order that could feed three. Adam's eyes go large when the waitress sets the plates down in from of him. "A firefighter after a 24 shift." He answers as he jumps right in.

"Must be why there's not an ounce of fat on you."

"Don't be jealous." Buck smiles as he stuffs his mouth with a fork full of pancakes.

His eyes on Buck, Adam brings his bacon to his mouth and takes a bite. "I don't know if jealous is the correct word. Scared more like it. Don't want to lose a finger." A second passes bye, and he adds, "I hear you found a home at 51."

Buck glances up through his eyelashes, his brow scrunched up in confusion. Yes, Adam picked him up in front of 51, but how does he know that? Keeping a tap on him? "Did you now?"

"Yea."

"Did you hear anything else?" Buck asks.

Adam gives him a probing stare, his eyes scanning the entirety of his face. "I hear lots of things, but most of them aren't any of my business so in one ear and out the other."

"Question."

"Okay, shot."

"Is there some bad blood between 51 and you?" Buck asks, replaying Casey and Severide's concerned stares in his head. Severide's unanswered texts weight heavily in his pocket. There's something more in those hot stares.

A moment passes as Adam leans back, biting his bottom lips. A silence falls, him pondering his next words. Seconds pass. With a deep sigh, he leans forward and says, "Not with me. We're cool, but Captain Casey and my boss have a beef. sh*t went down. There's a sort of truce between them, but there's no love or trust there."

Buck's gut says there's more to the story, but having his own issue, he isn't in the mood for someone else's drama. "Okay. Is there something I need to know?"

Adam waves him off. "No need to worry about it, Frogman."

While it isn't the first time that Buck has heard the seal nickname, it still stuns him. He has always down played his seal days, never telling anyone he actually made it. One, he's ashamed of how fast he washed out. Okay, no one can say that since he had seen combat, but it felt like it when he left, choking on his shame. Two, he hated—hates the questions he gets once people learn he was a seal. Oh, did you kill anyone one? What's your kill count? Yes, he has saved lives doing what he did, but that's one way to make him feel like a monster. Though, he only gets questions if they believed him. Three, most people wave him off if he mentions the Seals, not believing he has what it takes. Buck didn't- still doesn't—have the energy to argue about it. If they don't believe him, it isn't on him.

Buck shakes those thoughts out of his head and meets Adam's stare. "You-" His words die in his throat when he notices his stretchy apartment neighbor and his suspicious friends. Everything suddenly clarifies; this is Adam wanting to put up a show, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Oy, Adrian, Fireman," the neighbor greets, loudly, as he treads away from his group with a sway in his step. Though hidden by his oversize jacket, Buck spot a bulge on his hip, a black handle of a gun poking through. "Whadda you two doin'?" He eyes the dark smudge on Buck's cheek. "Ya lookin' a little dusty."

There's a chill in this diner, but every inch of Buck's skin is on fire. This man, as long as his posse, makes the hair stand up on the back of his arms. He spots similar budges on their hips as well. "Last call was a massive house fire." He answers.

Without an invitation, the man grabs a chair and spins it around to sit on it, his chest against the back. "You ever get tempt to…" he drifts off, wiggling his fingers at Buck.

The implication is clear and Buck's stomach twists. He glances at Adam, eyeing the over-the-top smile on his face and frowns, knowing what Adam wants from him. When did he sign up for this? The chill in his chest gets frosty, his heart slowing. You got this. With a deep breath, he brings forth his seal days and draws from his training. Boxing up his emotions, he puffs out his cheek, noticing Adam's hard stare. He hates this, but he clears the anger in his chest before it can reach his face and explode. "Thought about it? No. In a fire, that's the last thing on my mind." He answers evenly, eyeing the stupid grin on his face.

"Such a shame to think of all that jewelry burnin' up."

Adam shifts, snapping Buck's hypercritical gaze to him. He shots Buck a warning look before he says, "Thinkin' of branching out, Dom?"

Dom nonchalantly shrugs. "Maybe, I'm just keepin' my options open. You never know when a firefighter may come in handy." His eyes narrow at Buck, whose eyes flicker to Adam before meeting Dom's. "Adrian here tells me you two went to high school together."

A test? "Seals." Buck corrects evenly, his mouth dry. While he calmly clocks the test from his neighbor, the lie still cuts coming out. This isn't… He isn't cut out for this. He's the save cat from trees kind of guy.

"Ah, that's right." Dom nods, rubbing at his nose. A wick grin flashes across his face. "So, what's your body count?"

Buck's entire body stiffens, his blood ice cold as an intense dread floods him. While he has received this question a few times after revealing he is a Vet, this time makes him particularly ill, the ground shaking beneath him. Dom, and that nasty cheeky smile, seems like the type to get all giddy over the number, a number that Buck won't tell anyone. "It-"

Adam's eyes soften just a tad before he's all grins. "We never saw combat, both of us getting kicked out just shy of graduating. Behavioral issues." He huffs, scowling. "You believe that? They kicked us out for behavioral 'issues.' My ass."

Dom deflates slightly before he goes, "But you still got all of that trainin', right?"

"Why? What do you have in mind?" Adam asks, titling his head to the side.

No.

No. No.

No.

Suddenly, Buck's appetite is gone, not that he still has one sitting next to Dom, and he forcefully pushes away his half-eaten plate. From time to time, he does dust off the cobwebs from certain Seal skills, but most are locked away in his mind behind a lock and key. The idea of unwrapping any of those pieces of himself means dealing with trauma he would rather forget, so he leaves them boxed it up like everything else in his life. "This has been…. nice," He states, slowly as he motions to the table. "But… I just came off a 24-hour shift and I'm exhausted. So, if that's all, I'm-"

A dark look passes across Dom's face, an unvoiced threat hanging off his tongue. "Didn't you and Adrian had a thing going in the past, Frogman?"

Buck exchanges looks with Adam before he grumbles hotly under his breath. Yes, he told Adam he would help, but this isn't part of the deal. It's a massive no. No interest whatsoever. He's a firefighter, not a cop. Plus, his former Commander in his head, his words echoing in his head. 'Get out of your head and don't be stupid. Speak up, Buckley.' For the most part, when McGarrett said it, it's out of endearment, his way of looking out for Buck. He is the first to admit that he gets stuck in his head lot. "The past is the past." He says firmly, as he stands up. He's going to listen to the McGarrett echo in his head, which has popped up in the last few days and has taken the place of Bobby's voice—though once upon the time, it had happened in the other direction.

With his hair standing up, a familiar feeling settles in his bones, the abilities he locked in the box bubbling up. "Hey, A-Adrian," Buck starts, fumbling over the name. "Can you unlock your Jeep for me so I can get my bag?"

Adam slowly nods and reaches for his keys. "Sure." Going deadly silent, Dom follows Buck with his eyes as he heads to the door and to Adam's jeep to retrieve his duffle. Dom's laser focused eyes are a knife in his back, and Buck cannot get away fast enough, his legs moving before he realizes it.

His once forgotten exhaustion returns in vengeance when he's 7 blocks down the street, street names nonexistent to him. Gasping heavily, it takes a moment for him to settle back into his clammy skin, everything tingling. Over the years, this combat memories dulled, only coming up once and awhile, but listening to Dom so causally bring up his body count, everything got magnified and Buck means everything, not just his Seal memories. Everything is brighter and louder, the words bouncing around in his head. It's like someone turn the volume up.

Breathing in through his noise, Buck exhales deeply through his mouth as he counts slowly in his head. He repeats this several times before he stops shaking and can feel his legs. While he still feels off center from that encounter, his head has cleared enough to think. "Where are you, Buckley?" he mumbles to himself as he takes a wobbly look around. A light roar echoing in the background from the crowd, Buck reads the street sign, though it doesn't him little good. While he made sure to research the area around his apartment, everywhere else is a mystery to him.

Buck reaches into his side pocket for his phone to bring up his google maps, or at least, he tries to. The only thing popping up is the 'G' from the logo. "Come on," he hisses, as he repetitively taps at his phones. Buck, who will never say he's an expert in technology—just proficient-, knows tapping won't help, and yet, he can't stop rapidly tapping the screen like an idiot as he chews on his bottom lip. "f*ck." He snaps as he presses the button on the side of his phone to darken his screen. He curses his shotty internet. The perps of trying to save money.

At times, that's all it feels like he's doing, playing catch up ever since the firetruck incident. f*cken bills.

He whips around, his eyes noting every wondering eye he sees. Unlike what everyone thinks, Buck knows not everything is about him, and it's highly doubtful anyone on his street will be able to point him in a lineout in a few hours; however, it feels like everyone is staring at him, silently judging him. Buck forces his eyes down, lighting up his phone. He doesn't have any fancy car apps on his phone—not that his internet would allow him to pull it up.

Buck groans as he goes through his contacts, searching for Casey's number. Casey has given him his number in case something comes up, stressing that he can call at any time. The number adds 20 pounds to his phone, Buck never wanting to use, but at the same time, it feels like a lifeline. Being at 51, he feels lighter than he has been in months, but the fear of being a burden is still burned into him. He refuses to cling to someone, using them as an 'Emotional Support' person.

It takes a few second to find to find 'Captain Casey' in his phone, though flying past it the first time in his anxiety. Having very little contracts in his phone, Kelly Severide's name is a few names down from Casey's. Something drops inside of him, and he presses the dial button.

*O*O*

Kelly has been holdup in his office since the last call, his eyes glued to his phone, his hand squeezing the life out of it. After flying through his incident report, he, with a constipated face, has been nose-deep in his mobile, shifting through photo after photo. With the near kiss stuck in is head, he can't think of anything else, which is…. Which is…. God, it's so f*cken strange. He has fantasized about hooks up before, but this is something else and he has no f*cken idea what to make of it. What is it about Buck that Kelly finds so attractive?

Racking his brains for the last hour, he doesn't have the slightest idea, but whatever it is, it isn't in these pictures. Though, that may be due to the fact that he doesn't know what he should be feeling. Yes, he can admit that each man in these racy pictures is attractive, their smiles bright and vivid. His brain tries—before he shuts it down with an iron fist- to replace each smile with one of Buck's. It frustrates him how quickly his mind goes back to the former floater. Shaking his head, he swipes to another photo, this man shirtless. There's not an ounce of fat on him, muscle on muscle. It isn't at the rate of being off putting, and Kelly can see a line of women and men lining up to lick his abs, but all he can think is nope. Just nope. The man, with three inches of light shaggy hair, in the next photo is just as good looking, though his chest is hidden by half button up, white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. Again, a resounding no screams through him.

Kelly's eyes pop up, a sudden movement in the bunker draws his focus, and his heart leaps. A tad of red blossoms in his cheeks, though not enough for anyone outside to notice. No, it isn't due to the spicy pictures, but more so, it's why he is doing it. All of this just to wonder if he is gay…. Well, not gay as Kelly is still a lady man. Just to wonder if he is Bi. Though, that's not exactly correct either. All of this is to test the water to see if it's Buck or all guys. Right now, it's Buck. Bucksexual, his mind supplies.

Swiping, he moves on to the next one: a man in a speedo climbing out a pool, his backside popped out to the camera. From the water, there's a shine to his skin and a dark tin to his hair. Kelly doesn't know if it's a filter, but the man's ass is perfectly round, not Buck's level of perfect… "sh*t," Kelly curses unable to stop his wondering mind. Maybe, it's just the pictures. There's nothing like the real deal, Kelly always preferring the real thing. Why stare at hot women when he can touch them? Most likely, it is the same thing with men?

Just as Kelly tosses his now darken phone to the bed, Casey steps into the doorway, a concern smile on his face. "You okay, Sev?" he asks, his eyes dropping to the phone for a moment. "You've been quiet."

Kelly's right eye twitches. Of course, he comes in now. He mumbles to himself. Though, he's lucky that Matt hasn't come in a few seconds ago when he had half naked men on his phone. "Yup." He smiles. "Just thinking."

"Oh, no. That's not good. Severide thinking?" Casey teases.

"Ha. Ha." Kelly humorously rolls his eyes as he gets to his feet, clocking the time from the corner of his eyes. "You know what? You're fired from being my best friend." He scopes up his phone and heads for the door.

Casey spins out of Kelly's way, following in step behind him. "Yea, but no one else is foolish enough for the job. Trust me. I already looked for a replacement."

"Oh really?"

"Yea, but I couldn't find a sucker to take you, so I'm stuck with you."

Kelly laughs, because let's face it, it takes a special kind of person to deal with this hot mess. "And you're some gift?"

*O*O*

"Relax," Casey says as he comes up next to him. "We know Ruzek."

There's nothing wrong with Adam Ruzek, the man a fine officer, who is always there if 51 needs assistance. This can be said about everyone in the unit, each a good ally. Seeing someone from 51 chatting up any of the intelligence unit is not abnormal, but Buck is new to Chicago. He doesn't know or have the connections that anyone else would have. Kelly eyes the coffee cup Adam passes to Buck, his stomach twisting. "But he doesn't."

"Maybe, he does." Casey replies as Buck accepts the coffee. However, judging by his tone, this is more for him than Kelly.

Shotting Casey a disbelieving, cold stare, Kelly puffs, "probably, but when is it ever simple when it comes to the intelligent unit? How many times have we done favors for them and nearly got killed?" 51 has done quite a few favors for the Intelligent Unit, and while Kelly would volunteer—especially if someone is in danger-, he refuses to let anyone in his house jump in without backup. Boden is just as protective.

Casey's eyes are in fine points as they watch Buck climb into Ruzek's Jeep. "He does have backup. He has us." He replies, slapping his hand down on Kelly's shoulder. He forces a smile to his face.

Damn right, Buck has them. No matter what is going on in Kelly's head, that's not going to change. "Yea," he says as he pulls at his phone, extremely grateful he is that he has Buck's number. His eyes only drop to his phone long enough to type out, 'Are you okay?'

Though Buck is partly blocked from view, Kelly can see the exact moment Buck gets his message, his eyes dropping to his lap and popping up a second later. His head whips around and Buck's eyes go large, when he looks up the driveway and lock eyes with Kelly. Kelly tries to put everything in his stare and communicate nonverbally, but Buck spins away too fast, his eyes forward. He mouths something, but he doesn't response to the text. Kelly waits a few seconds, his impatience showing, before he shoots off another text: Is something wrong?

"Kel," Casey calls.

Whatever left Casey's mouth, Kelly can't confirm they are words, it sounding like rumbles of Charles Brown's parents.

*O*O*

A nap was on the first thing on Kelly's mind after the last call, but he's still too hyped up to sleep. Matt, his supposed best friend, is useless and disappears behind his bedroom door to sleep. The lucky bastard, mocking him with a rude smile. The advice Matt gives him is trash, and while he knows he shouldn't blame him, Kelly can't help but be a little resentful when Matt is out seconds later.

With a deep puff of air, Kelly pulls out his phone to distract himself again—even if this test has already failed. This time, he focuses more on butts, as with Buck, his eyes kept dropping south. There's photo after photo of male butts on his phone, but he can only roll his eyes when he scrolls through them. Each one just tugs on his patience. He will need to test it in person. His first thought—barely a thought—is to observe 51 and see if his eyes go anywhere, but he dashes that thought the second it forms in his head. He is in no way, shape or form going to check out any of them. The idea makes him ill. Yes, he can admit that his coworkers are attractive, but while he can note that, his brain just goes 'nope' very loudly. They are like brothers and sisters to him.

Kelly tosses his head back and throws his forearm across his eyes. He breathes in deeply through his nose, his chest expanding like a balloon, and lets out one hot puff of his air. He repeats this a few times to clears his mind, to return to a sweet nothingness. It doesn't remain that way as Kelly's thoughts once again wander to a certain blued eye man with a beautiful smile. "God," he mutters as he leaps to his feet and picks up his car keys from the end table. He needs to get out of here.

*O*O*

45 minutes later, Kelly is still jogging the lake shoreline, only stopping when his legs scream out in protest, and takes a seat on a nearby bench, automatically observing everyone who walks pass him with a curious glaze. His initial plan was to run out what he's feeling, but his eyes keep dropping north and following every man that cross his line of view. Each man is different from the last. Each are dress differently. Some are in suits, chatting—more like yelling—on their phones. A few are in jeans and enjoying the view of the lake. Many are in workout gear with Kelly spotting a few shirtless men.

Kelly got to admit that he feels a little icky and a bit perverted eyeing these men sexually, especially when they're just trying to go about their day. "There's a reason you're doing this," he mutters to himself, as he ogles—he hates that word— the man who bent down in front of him to tie his right running shoe. The man is giving Kelly the perfect shot of his round ass, an ass that look darn flawless in his tight black workout pants. And yet—

Nothing.

Completely nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to check out one more ass before he will shift his focus elsewhere. This time, he eyes a shirtless man, an equally nice ass… but nope. Just nope. Maybe, Kelly thinks, biting at his bottom lip. He turns his glaze on the next woman he sees. She's wearing a thin wind breaker over a sport bra and black leggings. Even with the sweat lining her forehead, she's beautiful, and while he can admit the uneasiness in his gut vanishes, she does nothing for him. It's all about Buck. What's the hell is wrong with him? You know what. His mind supplies. He's attracted to Buck. And only Buck. What does that mean? Kelly is going to have to figure that out. He—

His phone suddenly vibrates in his left hand, startling him. Lowering his glaze, his eyes go large and his heart soars when he notices Buck's name on the screen. He bolts straight up, as he accepts the call and brings the phone to his ear. A million things are flying through his head, concern weighted him down heavily. "Hey, what's up?" he asks, breathing throw his nose.

"Hey,um,canyoupickmeup?" The words are shot off like a rocket.

Kelly just blinks, his expression laced with concern. Was that English? Were those words? "Okay, Buck, repeat that. Slowly this time." He can hear a sharp intake on the other end of the end. "Buck?"

"C-Can you pick me up?" Buck asks, his voice shakily.

Why does Buck need a ride? Where the hell is Ruzek? Kelly doesn't voice any of these questions, Buck's tone kicking him into action. "Yes, of course. Tell me where you are?" he demands, as everything just disappears.

Chapter 13: Friends. Just friends.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13:

Friends. Just friends.

Los Angeles

Five months

Five f*cken months

Five long months without Evan Buckley

Five months of Hell

As Eddie pulls up to his house after a tense shift, he sits in his truck for a few minutes. His new fancy truck that he spent way too f*cken much on. A truck that he brought using money won through illegal street fighting. Illegal street fighting where he almost killed a guy. Illegal street fighting where he envisioned hitting Buck. The truck is tainted now, him ill thinking about it. Everything is tainted now, and Eddie means everything. The 118 is a shell of its former self, the aggrieved silence hitting Eddie like a metal baseball bat. The difference in mood and aura is so striking that it steals his breath with each step he takes in the firehouse. There's a vice grab on his throat.

To make it all worse and for some godawful reason, he's public enemy number one—besting Bobby for the title-, as if he's the cause all of this. He's not the cause of this okay. He's not the cause of this. He can't be the cause of this. He, his chest unbearable tight, can't be the one who ran off his closest friend, his best friend. His brother.

No!

Just no!

This is on Buck and his f*cken Lawsuit. This silence started before Buck left. Started with that lawsuit. That ridiculous, f*cken lawsuit, which fractured the 118 beyond repair. The very idea brings up so much unbridled anger in Eddie Diaz that he's drowning in it, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't get his head above water. Something has him by his ankles and is dragging him beneath the relentless, intense waves. Every stepped he has made has been wiped out and he's right back at the starting line. His fists are shaking at his side.

But again, this is on Buck, not him. Not him.

Eddie, when he's honest with himself, knows he's projecting, being unfair to Buck. He knows he's an unstable, ticking bomb. He knows he hasn't been fair to anyone, and yet, Eddie can't stop himself, the tiniest thing triggering him. Colorful, cruel words explode out of him in stings of sentences he doesn't recall later. This is not to say he doesn't feel guilty afterward, because he does. His stomach just drops when he notices the heartbroken and shock on the other person. However, he doesn't know how to course correct, his anger too toxic and great. There's a line of trauma in his life that he can blame this on: his time in army, his parents, Shannon leaving, Shannon's death, etc. Each left horrific scars, scars so deep that Eddie doesn't know how far they go down.

Yes, Eddie knows what everyone will say: talk to your therapist. While he can admit that therapists have helped a large number of people, he's not one of them. There's nothing they can tell him that he doesn't already know: he's a f*cked up. He also knows his past with Shannon warps how he sees the lawsuit. He knows this is why he's so enraged at Buck, his abandonment issues roaring like a hungry lion. He knows this is unfair to Buck. Yet on the other hand, he doesn't care. Buck stepped back and lobbed a bomb without a second thought, not caring who he hurt. No thought to how this would affect Christopher.

How is Eddie supposed to feel about that? How is he supposed to take that? Christopher is his everything. On his angrier days, Eddie is cursing Buck's name and says good riddance, which seems to be most of his day. On his better days, he can acknowledge his broken heart, the weight of the situation stealing his breath, and the oddness of it all is not lost on him. There's no way to describe it, and no matter how often his new therapist—the therapist Bobby is making him see to keep his job- probes him about Shannon and Buck, Eddie is silent, too bitter to be useful or honest. Every time he opens his mouth, he's all tongue, words dying in his throat.

Granted, a part of him wonders what the point is, as Buck is gone. f*cken gone. The idea is still mind blowing, and Eddie has to remind himself daily, old habits rearing up as he expects Buck to knock on his door. How can Buck just leave? He's a f*cken puppy. God, that sounds bad, Eddie dejectedly thinks, banging his forehead on the steering wheel. No matter how bad it got, he never expected Buck to leave. Was he just supposed to take? sh*t. Eddie doesn't know what that's supposed to mean, but Buck wasn't supposed to leave. But how long was he supposed to be your punching bag? He brutally asks himself. Was he supposed to beg at your feet until his knees bleed? The notion sickens him. Did—does he really expect that?

But you accepted it.

"f*ck," he curses, as he smacks the steering of his truck with his hand. "f*ck." That makes it sound like they treated Buck like sh*t… But didn't we? Multiple images of a quiet, shunned Buck in the background with a mop in his hand while they laughed over dinner fill his head. A few other now painful memories surface: laser focused insults launched at Buck when he tried to approach him. Eddie knows—knew?—Buck like the back of his hand. Knows what will hurt him the most. Knows that every cold, cruel word is a knife in his side. Knows that isolation is the worst thing you can do to Buck, and yet, none of that stopped them. "f*ck. f*ck. f*ck." He smacks the steering once more, his hand stinging, before he reaches for the door handle.

With a deep huff, he gets out of the truck—the tainted truck—and slams the door shut. With a deep breath he lets 30 seconds go by before he gathers up the will to move. The 118 is a black pit, but the same can be said about his home. His house has been too quiet, too sad. He can't recall the last time he has heard a laugh or spotted a smile. Carla, though he expects nothing less, has been giving him the colder shoulder, only speaking to Eddie when it relates to Christopher. Her silence stings more than Eddie expects; her friendship is more important to him than he realizes. He misses their chats. Misses her life saving advice, her 'get out of your head, boy' comments. Misses how largely she smiled at him.

Then there's Christopher. His sweet boy.

His cold silence is the worst, Eddie's heart shattering with every muted stare. At times, the single father slips a beer and eyes his son's door, unsure of what to do. Tears fall as he recalls all of Buck and Christopher's goofy conversations. God, there's so much love between those two. Why Buck? Why? As a single father, introducing new people to his kid is scary, terrified that Christopher will get attached and the person will disappear. While Eddie would do anything to bring Shannon back, her leaving damaged Eddie in ways that he can't understand. Eddie has stayed up many nights over this, his stomach doing somersaults. This was another reason why the situation pisses Eddie off. When Christopher asks for Buck, what does he says? 'No, you can't see him. Why? Oh, Buck said f*ck it and left.'

Eddie, exhaling deeply, pushes his front door of his house open and steps in. There's a weight on his chest, his heart struggling, when his and Carla's eyes meet. There's a continual look of disappointment stretched across her features. She shakes her head and turns away without saying a word. "Did everything go okay?" he asks with a weak smile.

Looking over her shoulder, Carla eyes him, heavy lines plastered across her forehead. "No, another bad day."

Ever since the lawsuit, there has been a changed in Christopher's behavior, a thick fog of sadness surrounding him. There are a few smiles here or there, though none directed at him. What Eddie didn't know at time but knows now, Buck was the reason for those rare smiles as Buck and Christopher were playing an upline game together. However, when Buck disappeared, those stopped, and Christopher's sadness turned into anger.

But Eddie isn't the only receiver of this anger. Christopher has been acting out for Carla and his teachers, which worries Eddie. He made the school aware of the situation, who offered their on-campus counselor. With his own issues hanging over his head, something deep inside of him bucked. A primal fear roared up and he gave them a resounding no. His kid is not broken… Just Eddie is. However, after conversion with Carla, he called back the school and took them up on the offer. It has been a few weeks, but Christopher is still frosty.

"Where is he now?"

"His room."

"What's he doing?" Eddie asks, though he can guess. Christopher has been staring at Buck and his favorite game, waiting for Buck to come online. When Eddie first learned this, it pissed him off that Buck continued to chat with Christopher behind his back. Buck, who isn't his parent, had no right to do so without his expressed permission, and while he felt justified laying into Buck at their next shift, it's a kick to the heart now. It's especially painful when he realizes that Buck didn't return the following shift. This is your fault. Your fault. No wonder everyone leaves you.

"He's not your f*cken kid, Buckley."

"Eddie…"

"Don't Eddie me! He's my kid. My kid. I get to decide what's best for him, not you. I get to decide who gets to see him. You get no say, especially when we can't trust your judgement."

"I…I just-"

"Shut up. Shut the f*ck up. I don't care what you've to say. In fact, I wish you would just dis-f*cken-appear. I don't know how many times I have to say it. Get lost. No one cares what happens to you. No one wants you here. We can't stand you, and nothing will change that. We will always hate you for what you did."

"Eddie..."

"Stop it! You will leave me and my son alone or else I'll get the f*cken authority involve and have them charge you will harassment. You get that?"

"Y-ea… I get it."

"Staring at his tablet." Carla replies, drily, as she snaps Eddie out of his thoughts. Her eyes narrowing, she huffs as she gathers up her things. "I wasn't able to pull him away from it, but I got him to eat, so that's a plus."

"Carla," he calls softly, his shoulder slagging. "I-" His words get twisted in his mouth, his chest unbearable tight. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep, shaky breath as he counts silently to ten. "I don't…" he puffs. "I don't know what he needs." Admitting that feels like someone has slapped him across the face with a ring on. He doesn't know how to help his son.

Putting the strap of her purse on her shoulder, Carla turns to him and states wryly, "He needs Buck."

She states it like it's the most obvious thing, but that's easier said than done. No one has any idea where Buck is, only knowing where he has been through the postcards Maddie receives. Though, she hasn't gotten one in the last month or so. Eddie doesn't know what that means, but he isn't really talking to Maddie to ask. He only heard about the postcards through Hen who heard from Chimney, who isn't talking to him. "Do you know where he is? I the hell don't." He hisses through his teeth. His voice doesn't go up, but his anger is clear.

"And who's fault is that?" Carla hums, not reacting to Eddie' fury.

Eddie breathes through him nose in an attempt to not blow up. Originally, he wasn't worried about Buck leaving and was honestly relieved, especially after learning he was talking to Christopher. The very sight of Buck set his blood on fire. The consistent bugging, Eddie just snapped. The sting insults that poured out of his mouth can make his old army buddies shrink. So no, he wasn't worried at first, believing this distance would do them good. Buck would be able to pull his head out of his ass, while the 118 cools down. However, as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, Eddie's stomach turns. Reality sours. Now, they are at five f*cken months, and Eddie is a mess. He bounces between sadness and anger and is never sure what's going to surge out of him. "He's the one who left."

Carla's nose flares and she huffs. "And you made it so easy for him to stay?"

Eddie's gaze dashes down the hallway toward Christopher's door and lingers. "He sued us. What were we supposed to…" The words die in his throat, snuffing the question he has asked himself many times over. There were many things he could've done instead, so many f*cken things.

The look on Carla says it all, a mixture of frustration and rage, as she had this conversion with Eddie many times over. "Family is always supposed to be there, but you showed him that's a lie."

This is where Eddie stalls. He can admit that he f*cked up, but he hates the idea that it's all his fault and Buck's innocent. Buck's the one who wouldn't listen to Bobby. Buck's the one who thinks he knows everything. Buck's the one who betrayed them. "Maybe, he's the one—" Stop it. Stop it. Just stop it. This won't help. This will destroy him if he lets it. "Thanks, Carla," he says instead.

"You're welcome. Tell Christopher I'll see him tomorrow." She replies. Her tone has lost her hostility, but it isn't the friendly, smiley tones he misses so much.

Eddie doesn't move until he hears the front door open and close behind him. After locking the front door, he makes his way to Christopher's room, each step a knife to the chest, and by the time he reaches Christopher's room, his breathing is labored like he has run 5 miles. His brain freezes and he's at a loss of words as he stares at the back of his kid's head. Reality has already been poking at him, but it slaps him across the face, stinging so much that he sees double. With the world spinning, he leans against the door frame and eyes his son, not speaking until he catches his heart.

His back to his father, Christopher, his head down, is at his desk, his hands vice gripping the tablet Buck had customized for him. His knuckles are so white that it's surprising the tablet doesn't crack, which will be the worst thing right now. With Buck gone, his son considers it his most prized procession and takes it everywhere. He checks it every 15 minutes like clockwork and without fail, regardless of where he is. He has gotten in loud arguments with his teachers over it.

After what feels like hours, Eddie goes, "Hey, Christopher." Said boy doesn't move, but Eddie knows he hears him. "I know Carla said you ate, but you want something?" Nothing. His heart breaking, he pushes off the door frame and crosses the room. "Hey, Bud, how're you doing?" Again nothing. Eddie knees down next to his son and looks up at Christopher, who doesn't meet his eyes. "Talk to me. What's going on in that head?" he asks as he pokes him softly in the forehead.

Christopher's blue eyes flicker to him for a moment before returning back to the tablet. "Leave me alone."

This isn't the first time that Eddie heard these icily words, but it gets him every time. While Christopher will always be his son, Buck and Christopher have a special bond, a bond Eddie will never fully understand. "Chris-"

"Buck's gone and it's your fault!" The boy snaps as he slaps Eddie's hand away.

"Hey, Christo-"

"No!"

Eddie breathes deeply through his nose, as he hides his shaky hand behind his back. There's a hundred of things he wants to say, but each feels wrong. Everything feels like a lie. God, why he did cut Christopher off from Buck? No matter what his relationship is with Buck, he shouldn't have let it hurt Christopher. He shouldn't have gotten between them. In the end, he's the one who hurt his son, not Buck, even if his anger threatens to override this. "Ple-"

Christopher slams his tablet own, a loud clang violently echoing across the room, and through seer dumb luck, the screen is intact and doesn't break. However, the cover is ajar and is cracked in the corner. "Leave me alone!"

Eddie's gaze drops to the cracked cover, and the air is sudden too hot and thin to breathe. He's a failure of a father, a failure of a person… a failure of a friend. Yet, he can't move his legs. "Bud, I'll-"

"I hate you." Christopher yells as he precariously jumps up to his feet. No doubt that without his desk, he would've tumbled to the ground, his legs shaky. "I hate you."

This second outburst is shaky and soft, but it hurts Eddie the most. It's a bullet, and all the resentment he has aimed at Buck disappears, leaving Eddie empty. Without his anger and self-righteousness, there's nothing else. Eddie knows anger is not his friend, it a seductive siren that will lead him to his death, but if he allows himself to feel anything, he'll be a nonverbal, crying mess on the floor, which isn't acceptable. That's one thing he learned growing up: tears aren't permitted. He has to be tough. He has to be strong. "O-okay," he utters, his voice shaky. "Okay."

Every movement is a struggle, every fiber of his being screaming out in protest. Eddie has no idea what to do, no idea how to make this better. As he watches his son wobble back and forth on his feet, he can't help but wonder if his parents are right: Christopher belongs with them. "Okay." He repeats again as he throws his arms in the air and heads to the door. It's a battle not to look back, though he doesn't win that fight. He glances over his shoulder to Christopher, who is slowly and unsteadily resettling in his chair.

Though it feels like he's stepping on his own heart, he tells his son he loves him and closes the door, his hands trembling. He doesn't allow his thoughts to wander and heads straight to his sofa, and with a pained huff, he falls back into the cushions. Christopher's words are a noose around his neck, and it's hard to breathe. What the f*ck is he going to do? How the f*ck can he fix this? How the f*ck does he help his son? Why he is such a f*ck up?

With his heart in his throat, he reaches for the phone in his pocket. There's only one person who that can help his son: Buck, but… he isn't here. Anger roars up in his belly for a second before he smashes it down. Buck isn't here, but maybe, there is someone else who can help. He scrolls throw his phone and presses dial when he finds the name he wants.

*O*O*

Chicago

Buck's panic still fresh on his mind, Kelly books it to his Mustang and takes off down the road, driving faster than he normally would. He spots a few police vehicle along the way and says a silent pray with each, which must be working as no blue or red flash behind him. However, he, his heart pounding, doesn't let out a sigh of relief until gets his sights on Buck, who looks like a kicked puppy on the side of the road. A protective lion surges up and demands answers. However-Yes, however, Kelly isn't going to poke at Buck, who's looking pretty skittish. He's just going to be the friend that Buck needs. Friend. The word echoes in Kelly's head, but he doesn't allow himself to mull over the tickle in his gut.

Instead, he pulls up to the curb, rolls down his passenger window, and studies the stiff ex-Floater, Buck too distracted to notice his arrival, for a second before he calls out to him. The man is lost in his own head, and with his ghostly gaze on his hands, he almost blends completely into the gray background as the crowd walks pass him, oblivious to his pain. Whatever happened, that heaviness from when Buck first popped up is back and Kelly is really to throw punches. Seriously, this gets his blood boiling. Stop it. Kelly breathes through his nose and forces himself to exhale that anger right out of him. Buck doesn't need his anger. He needs a friend. With a deep breath, he puts on an over-the-top grin. "O, Buckley!" He yells, as his cheeks ache. "Your chariot has arrived."

Buck's head popping up, his gaze is wild and frantic as he searches for Kelly, who spots the exact moment Buck sees his car. It's magical to see the sudden change in Buck, the weight on his shoulders vanishing and a lightness appearing. When Buck jumps to his feet, he is back to his smiling fix foot self. "Lieutenant," he calls, his voice uneven, as he quickly sprints to the mustang.

Kelly's title on Buck's tongue irks him. "Kelly." He offers when Buck reaches the passenger side door.

"What?" Buck asks, his eyes large in confusion.

"Kelly." He restates as he leans over the center console. "When off duty call, me Kelly."

"Um, okay, K-Kelly." A tint of pink graces Buck's face as he bends down, meeting Kelly's eyes.

A familiar warm sensation creeps up Kelly's spine, his stomach cartwheeling. He has been in a lot of relationships—though that is a stretch for most-, but he can only count a number of times he has felt like this. Ogling all of those men made it clear that he's attracted to Buck and only Buck. This feeling in his gut—the need to protect and help him—solidified that. "G-getting in?" he croaks.

Buck's eyes go wide before his glaze drops to the door. "Yep," he shutters as he opens the door to the mustang.

Kelly settles back into seat and reminds mostly still, watching the man slip into the seat. While the heaviness in Buck is gone, there's still an uneasiness in him, a skittishness. Once Buck is in and the door is closed, Kelly angles himself. "Buckle up, Buckley. I tend to go a bit fast." He teases.

"Oh, really?" Buck grins as he throws down his duffel by his feet.

While he doesn't normally rev his engine, Kelly does it here, pressing his foot down on the gas petal. Kelly's lopsided grin grows as the Mustang's engine roars. "I feel a need, a need for speed."

Buck blinks twice before he blushingly laughs for a solid minute. "Okay…so." He pops out his bottom lip, stressing the so.

Kelly eyes the beautiful, bashful smile on his face and has to stop himself from swooning. "So… What?"

"I…um… never saw…um… Top Gun."

"Oh, really?" Kelly responds, his eyebrow rose. "That's a classic!" His jaw hurting from smiling, he turns away, his glaze on the street, and shifts the car into drive. He follows the traffic with his head. "Sounds like we need a movie night. What other movies do we need to add to the list?" He hums and shots Buck a quick look before he pulls out.

Buck meets the quick glance before looking forward. "You're not the first one who tried to get me to watch it."

"Tried? So, I take it they failed?" Kelly grins, his eyes forward on the road.

"Yep." Buck chuckles. "He took it as a personal offense."

Kelly snorts. "Understandable. It's a good movie."

"So, he said."

Kelly has made a promise not to push, to allow Buck to open up on his own, but it so goddamn tempting. It isn't just the bad; he wants to know everything. "Who is this friend? Seems like we would get along."

Buck glances over, his eyes falling to Kelly's jawline, and chews on his bottom lips. "Um…for some reason, I don't think you and Steve talking would be a good thing." His head abruptly spins away as a look of horror falls to his face, his eyes saucers. "Nope not at all."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"No!" Buck, cherry face, exclaims loudly, rubbing at his nose. "It's… just…you and Steve are…um…a lot alike."

His eyes forward, Kelly isn't sure what to make of that, but he supposes it can't be a negative thing…unless this Steve is the person who hurt Buck. "Oh, really?"

Something flashes across the ex-floater's face, his entire aura shifting. It's striking. "Yup." Buck stretches out the word, a small smile on his face. However, smile doesn't stay. His eyes glaze over as his attention wanders, mindlessly watching the people on the sidewalk.

sh*t. What the hell just happened? Is this about this Steve person? Or something else? Kelly waits to see if Buck would offer anything else, but he doesn't and silence falls. Kelly recognizes the pattern. He lingers at each street light, waiting for Buck to say something. "The fire station?" he offers.

"Yup." Again, a short answer. A second goes by before Buck opens his mouth to speak, though nothing comes out. Closing his mouth, he inhales and lets out a deep breath through his nose. He opens his mouth once again, words coming out this time. "Thanks for picking me up, L—Kelly."

"That's what friends do." Buck's head bobs up and down, but the only thing he does is stare out the window, which Kelly doesn't know what to do with it. And honestly, it bugs the sh*t out of him. He knows he shouldn't, but man, how can he sit back and do nothing? No, Kelly can't do that. He can't sit back and not say anything as it's not in his DNA, consequences be damned. Kelly, his heart in throat, drives for a few minutes, fighting with that urge.

A more awkward silence falls, as Kelly peeps repeatedly over at Buck, who stares intently at the road. What the hell happened? One minute they were chatting away, laughing, but in a flash, it's gone. What is he scare of? Sure, when Kelly pulled up, something threated to rip him apart, but this is different. It's like he realizes he's revealing too much and snaps back, which appears to be common for the young Firefighter. When Kelly comes up to a red light and his mustang comes to a stop, his eyes drill into the side of Buck's face. "Screw it." Kelly utters loudly, snapping Buck back to him.

"What?" Buck articulates slowly though loudly, his voice cracking.

Kelly glances at his rearview mirror, scanning for cars, before he harshly jerks the steering wheel, making a sharp right down side street. He has no specific area in mind, but he wants to get off the main street. Zippering around, he drives until he sees an available space. He jerks the wheel again when he sees a spot and pulls in, his parking job sh*t. Normally, he puts more care into his parking his baby, but right now, he's on the mission. Once he shifts the mustang into park, he turns his intense stare onto Buck, who just stares wide eye back.

"Lie- Kelly? Is…Um…What?" It's all that Buck can manage.

For a while, Kelly just stares, eyeing every twitch. Every blink. Every flash of his pretty blue eyes. "Buck…" He takes a deep breath. Why is he suddenly breathing hard? Why is his heart threatening to pop out of his chest? "Evan…" he unintentionally shifts to Buck's first name. He forces himself to take a deep breath before he goes, "Okay. What's wrong? What happened with Ruzek?" It's a struggle to keep his voice soft.

Buck closes his eyes and lets out a large puff of air. "I-it's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it bothers you." Kelly can only describe Buck's face as the blue screen of death. The ex-floater, stress lines stretched across his forehead (making him look ten years older), is processing the words as if they have spouted legs and are dancing in front of him.

Eventually, Buck slams his mouth shut and takes a large deep breath before he goes, "I-I don't know…." He drifts off.

Against his better judgement, Kelly reaches over. His hands bobbles in midair for a moment, his first target being Buck's knee, before he gently places it on his shoulder. "Everyone at 51 is here for you." A pause. "I'm here for you." Kelly throws it out and just waits, as he counts the multiple expressions that pass across Buck's face. If the situation was different, it would've been comical how many times a red-faced Buck has opened and closed his mouth. "And I'm not going anywhere." There's nothing in the world that would change that.

"I…um…"

"I mean it."

Buck swallows the lump in the air in his throat. "I…" He takes a deep, shaky breath, which travels own his entire body. "T-Thanks." He barely manages, fighting back the sob that threatens to take over.

Kelly tilts his head to the side and squeezes Buck's shoulder, his heart in his hand. "No thanks needed. Just talk to me."

"Ad—Ruzek…" Nodding, Buck exhales deeply. "Officer. Ruzek. Got. Me. helping. Out. With. This. Case. he's. working. on." There's a pause with each word, an attempt not to run his words together.

While Casey and he guessed this when they spotted Ruzek, it still stuns Kelly, and to be honest, he's pissed. Is Ruzek randomly pulling people into his assignments? He chokes on his anger for a second before he shoves it down. "What kind of case?"

"I don't know. He just has me playing his friend, the firefighter." Buck's voice is frazzled. There's a world of hurt on his face, a story that could probably fill three books.

Kelly has so many questions, so many. sh*t, where does he begin? He goes back and forth on a few, but he settles with this, "How did this start?" His hand falls from Buck's shoulder to his leg as he angles himself to get a better view of Buck's face.

Buck's glaze drops to Kelly's hand before it zips to his own hands in his lap, him mindlessly picking at his nails. "When I was floating at firehouse 40, Officer Ruzek was at one of the crash scenes, and I saved his life from a speeding car."

A familiar night rolls back to Kelly and a recognizable warmth floats through him, heating even his toes. A memory from the night he worked the knot out of Buck's shoulder pops forward, and it takes a moment for his recollection to clear as he's too distractive by the memory of Buck's skin under his fingers. It's the night that Buck mentioned saving two people from speeders, while mocking Chicago Drivers. One of must have been Ruzek. "How did that turn into this?"

"I spotted Ruzek at my apartment, talking to someone, and did a double take when I saw him. Unbeknownst to me, he was uncovered, and my double take almost blew his cover as the guy he was talking to noticed and started asking questions. It was at that point that Ruzek," Buck pauses and takes a deep breath. "Made up a story that we were old friends, old friends with a 'dirty' past." His expression sours over the word.

The word 'dirty' is thick with severe implications, and while Kelly wants to ask what exactly this past is, he doesn't technically need to. No doubt Ruzek made up a stretchy past for them. "Okay." He allows a fat pause to fall as he cools the fire in his belly. "How did you end up on the side of the street needing a ride?" Kelly's glaze falls to Buck's hands.

Buck closes his eyes and take another deep breath. "I…" He shakes his head and doesn't say anything.

"Evan." Again, the name is odd on Kelly's tongue, but it feels right.

When Buck glances up at Kelly, there's a shimmer to his eyes, tears threatening to fall. "Idiot." This is clearly directed at himself. "I knew this is a case for Adam, but I…" He's fighting back a large wet sob. "I wanted a friend. Hadn't had one in a while."

The sheer sadness in Buck's voice is a dagger through Kelly's heart, and an intense protective urge roars up inside of him—not that the protective urge hasn't already been there. However, he's ready to go to jail over this, f*cking over whoever hurt Evan Buckley. "Hey," he speaks softly as his hand moves to Buck's knee and squeezes.

Buck haphazardly sucks in a large puff and pushes down a painful sob. "God, I'm an idiot. I confused Ruzek's offer for breakfast for friendship, when he just wanted me there for his cover."

"Well, you have a firehouse full of friends now, so screw him." Kelly squeezes Buck's knee again. "Any one of us will love to chill." Buck nods but remains quiet. The more he talks with Buck, the more Buck's weird behavior makes sense, though he is left with more questions. Unconsciously, his thumb begins to move in a cyclical motion, massaging the tensed muscle. "You're not alone anymore." He inhales deeply and adds, "I'm not going anywhere no matter what, Evan."

Buck's mouth opens to speak, but the words are a jumbled mess. He forces his mouth shut and takes a deep breath. A second passes before he rips around, staring Kelly right in the eyes. "Thank you."

Again, Kelly is struck by the emotions shimmering beneath the surface, the pure gratitude intoxicating. There's a solace in his intense stare that hasn't been there before, and Kelly drinks it up. "You don't need to thank me."

"But I do." Buck leans into the touch. "You came without question."

As Kelly stares at Buck's beaming eyes, he's struck by the realization, not that it's much of a realization at this point. He is attractive to Buck and only Buck, but it's more than that. This goes deeper than a simpler attraction. However, he doubts Buck has that same realization. "I'll always come, no hesitation." He leans back in the chair, his heart skipping when he finally realizes what's he's doing to Buck's leg. "Unlike Ruzek."

Buck's grateful smile disappears and is replaced by a frown, which Kelly takes a personal offense to. "Not Adam's fault."

Kelly's nose flares but he keeps his comments to himself as Buck's not in the right head space for an argument. Why is Buck going out of his way to absolve Ruzek? Nevertheless, Kelly faults him, which he will make clear to Ruzek. "Does Boden know?"

His blue, shimmering eyes on his knee—the one Kelly once held-, Buck bites on his bottom lip. "I don't know. I was told they would let the CFD know, but I have no idea if they told Boden."

"We're telling Boden." Kelly announces, his tone leaving no room for arguments. The engine turns over as he twists the ignition key. "Telling him right now."

*O*O*

Nervously biting down on his lip, Buck is all jitters, his right leg bouncing up and down like a pogo stick. After Sev—Kelly's and his conversion, Buck feels leveled, the fog of the last few months lessened and the vice grab around his heart loosened, but Boden's laser focus drills a quarter inch through his heart. Kelly keeps close, standing a foot from Buck. So close, that his cologne soaks Buck, dosing him for the second time. After telling Boden about the Ruzek situation, Chief has gone silent, his arms folded across his chest. "So, this started out as a simple identity confirmation, but now, Officer Ruzek is actively drawing you in." he finally says after a few minutes.

Buck has intentionally not mentioned his Navy Seals days or his body count, still feeling raw from the reminder. "I supposed he is. Didn't realize his offer for food was a 'business meeting.'" He doesn't put air quotes on them, but he envisions them in his head. Granted, he probably would have still gone.

Boden folds his hand under his chin, his eyes in narrow points. "Unacceptable." He spits out, his jaw verbally stiff.

That solace Kelly gave him is gone, and Buck's chest goes ice cold. "Sir, I'm-"

"I need to speak with Sergeant Voight. This is unacceptable." Boden gruffs, his voice rough but stern, his hand itching toward his desk phone. "My men aren't his pawns in his game."

A several moments pass before it dawns on Buck. Oh, sh*t, Boden isn't mad at him. He's mad at this Sergeant, which leaves Buck a bit lopsided. He's self-aware enough to know this is a conditioned response he has picked up from the 118, but it seems like a task that will require some herculean strength to overcome. "Chief, I'm s-" He starts, his knee still bouncing.

Kelly's warm glaze is solely on Buck, eyeing his pounding chest. "Buck."

Just like that, that tension in Buck's dissipates at the song of his name on Kelly's tongue. Buck takes a deep breath before he goes, "Sir, I agreed to help in the first place because-"

Boden holds up his hand. "No need to explain. I understand, but I won't allow this to proceed without transparency. Not letting one of my men going in blind."

While Buck is extremely grateful for Kelly's friendship—yes, friendship, Buckley!-, Boden's words hold much more weight considering he knows about the lawsuit. "Understood." Buck's uneasiness has nothing to with going in blind, his training (Both firefighting and the seals) burnt that out of him, even if his stomach twists at the thought of killing someone. When needed, he has nerves of steel, not that it helped him with the 118. With them, he is all nerves, but he never had an issue with running into a burning building.

*O*O*

After taking with Boden, Kelly offers to walk Buck to his Jeep, but Buck vigorously declines. No, it isn't because he wants to Kelly to wrap his arms around him and never let go. God, is this man perfect? The entire time in the car, Buck thought his heart was going to explode out of his chest. He tried to resist the urge to swoon, but sh*t, his skin still burns in the spots that Kelly touched him. When Kelly smiled and shined his pretty green—there's a bit of blue in them—eyes at him, a little voice at the back of his head chanted 'Kiss him, Kiss him.' Buck didn't listen, but he wanted—wants- to, even if there are a million reasons not to.

One, Buck isn't in a right head space for a relationship

Two, he's pretty sure he doesn't have the right equipment for the Lieutenant.

However, he declines because he's a big boy, who can walk to his car on his own. He can also make it to his apartment without an assist. While he doesn't enjoy it, he can handle himself in a fight, and he doesn't need someone hovering. He needs friends. He needs Firehouse 51, the house already weaving its way into his heart. On the way home—even with the exhaustion-, he spots a familiar tail a few cars back, but he loses them quickly enough and makes it back to his apartment in no time. With a full body yawn, he parks the Jeep and slowly treks it up the steps.

Miss Isabel Jackson is at her door when Buck walks pass her apartment. "You're late." While it sounds a bit accusatory, heavy concern laces though her voice.

Buck smiles as he stops briefly at her door. "Just went out with a friend."

"The only thing you need is your bed, Boy. You look hideous." Miss Jackson grins cheekily, as she holds out an egg sandwich.

Considering how heavy each limbs feels, there's no denying that. "Lies all lies. I always look good." He shines his pretty blue eyes, as he accepts the sandwich from her. As soon as Buck's head meets his pillow, he will be out.

Miss Jackson loudly shoos him away, telling him to go to bed, which he doesn't fight her on. He waves the sandwich at her as he turns and sluggishly climbs the steps. The friendly neighborhood teen is nowhere to be found, which Buck is grateful for. He's all talked out. When he steps into his apartment, he's huffing, and autopilot takes over as the door closes behind him. Tossing his duffle to the side, Buck—teetering/hopping on one foot- wiggles out his right work boot. It takes a few attempts before the boot flies across the small room and slaps the wall with a loud thump. Ungracefully, he shifts the other foot and does the same.

Peeling off his now smelly socks and dumping them on the ground, he crosses to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator, just enough to toss in the sandwich. Bypassing the bathroom and a nice warm shower, he drags himself to the bed and allows gravity to take him down, landing with a bounce. He's just shy of the pillow, but he doesn't adjust himself, only fishing for his phone in his pocket. There's are several texts from Kelly. Buck knows he should ignore them, but his exhaustion is not great enough to ignore his heart.

'I'm here if you need a friend.'

'If you need anything, let me know.'

'Hey, if you feel up to it, join us at Molly's tonight.'

Buck forgets how many times he has been invited to Molly's, and he doubts it will be the last, but he's not sure if he is ready for that just yet, especially when he spots a few messages from Adam.

'Hey, Buddy. Sorry for earlier. Shouldn't have done that. Can we chat?"

Boden had attempted to contact Voight while they were in his office, but it went to voicemail after ringing for a minute. While he doesn't know if Adam's text is related, he wonders. Pushing those thoughts aside, Buck replies to Adam's message.

'Later. I need to sleep.'

After the message, Buck tosses his phone aside, paying no attention where it landed. He throws his arms across his face and closes his eyes. It doesn't take long before he is out, his exhaustion winning out.

Chapter 14: A Big Step Forward

Chapter Text

Chapter 14:

A Big Step Forward

Years Prior

Evan has lost count to how places he has been sent or how many months he has put into this Seal training, the time blending together. Wait, has it been over a year? Evan has no clue, but what he can tell you is that everything hurts, and Evan means everything. While no one wants to ignore injuries, they happen, especially this close to the finish line. Evan, for example, tweaked his right shoulder two weeks ago, and it still f*cken hurts as he never stopped to let it heal. However, it's all worth it when that SEAL Trident is pinned to his chest. While most can say the same thing, the pride that surges though Evan is intoxicating, and he can't help but puff out his chest in victory. Any guilt, worry or concern is gone, replaced by... He doesn't know how to describe it, but sh*t, he feels like superman.

For the next few hours—between celebrating with his newly minted Seal buddies-, Evan, standing high, chats with everyone and anyone who steps near him at the graduation, words exploding out of his mouth. He ignores the black, infinite pit in his stomach at seeing his fellow graduates celebrating with their smiling families. The love in the air is almost lethal with the longing in his gut that he shoves way down, way way down. He shakes his head, attempting to focus on the future.

Yes, he was given the opportunity to invite his family, but that thought barely lasted a second. The very idea of inviting his parents—his scowling father- kills his entire vibe and sends him down a treacherous rabbit hole. His parents aren't parents in any sense of the word, and they don't get to bathe in his happiness. His second thought goes to Maddie, but since she gave him the Jeep, they haven't talked, his postcards being the only form of communication between them. He has tried to contact her, but the calls went unanswered, and after weeks of silence, he gave up. He left home alone and will continue alone.

Granted, he's not alone. No matter what traitorous thought passed across his mind Evan is not alone. He hasn't been since he signed those enlisted papers those many moons ago. While many of those who attempted to earn that infamous Trident are gone, they each play an important part as to why he's still standing here. The camaraderie between them is life changing and goes far beyond anything that Evan can place to words. There's nothing they would not do for the other. So being part of this bigger family is an honor that Evan will treasure… even if he is sober.

At a nearby bar, the newly minted Navy Seals are celebrating their new tridents with beers… well, not exactly as Evan is just shy of his 21st birthday. He can only pout. "I'll be 21 in two months!" He pleads, holding up two fingers. Being the youngest of the group and the only one under 21, he bats his pretty blue eyes at the bartender, but she's immune to his flirty glaze, a resistance most likely built up from all the over-the-top servicemen who patron the bar. When they get back to the barracks, Evan will forget about the stern 'Nice try Buddy' he received, but for now, he's a bit bitter for being the only sober person at the table.

Grant, it's probably wise to have at least one sober person. However, it sucks ass for Evan. To get into the spirit and to feel included, he goes through the motions with his "zero proof" drinks. Matching his comrades' loudness, Evan downs a gunner—a mixture of lemonade and ginger ale with a dash of bitters—and lets out a cheek hurting grin. "Yum."

"Poor Buckley. I'll drink for you." The Sailor to his left rises his own beer before bringing it to his lips. Having one too many drinks, he misses his mouth on the first try.

As Evan watches Miller jab himself in the cheek with his beer and promptly spill on himself, he's grateful that he isn't sloshed. Being covered in alcohol does not sound appealing, and he won't miss that. "At least, I know where my mouth is." He snorts into his drink, earning a round of chortles from the rest of the guys. A round of playful insults follow from the group, directed at Miller.

"I know where my mouth is." Miller winks at Evan, who just rolls his eyes and quickly turns away.

Evan doesn't respond, treating those comments like a plague. Too close to the truth. However, someone else takes the bite. "No one wants to know where your mouth has been." From there, the conversions went off into mumbles, ranging from insults to statement of disbelieves. It takes an hour before the insults settle down and the talks of teams comes up, each wondering where they'll be placed.

"Any preferences?"

While Evan has no preference to where he's stationed, there's one thing he's hoping for: to serve under Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. Due to the Commander's awe-inspiring, takes no sh*t reputation, a spot on his team is highly coveted. "Nope." He lies. "I'm good anywhere. We'll be sardines on a ship anyhow." He pauses. "There're 288 battle force ships, 10 aircraft carriers, nine amphibious assault ships, 22 cruisers, 62 destroyers, 17 frigates, 72 submarines and 3,700 aircraft. Over 40 Naval Bases, so may places to end up."

Miller rolls his eyes before lets out a puff. "Of course, Buckley knows this."

Evan takes a big slip of his drink to hide his reddening cheeks. While there's nothing to be embarrassed about, at times he feels like a kid in over size shoes when he over zealously shots things out. Random facts have always been one of his odd quirks, inadvertently instilled in him by Maddie. He may not be in the smartest, but he loves learning new things, exploring the world with Maddie. "You never know what'll save you." He sticks his tongue out before he gets up for another drink.

*O*O*

So, the downside of being the only one under age—besides being sober—is babysitting the drunks on the way back to the barracks. Between getting distracted by everything they see and trying to rip off their uniform, the time it takes to get back to Base has doubled. His Navy Seal training has not prepared him for this. It's like herding cats, and when he finally gets them in their beds, he wonders how f*cked they are. The Navy seals are getting some big whiny babies- Okay, only when drunk. Some got a little handsy too, which no one besides Evan will remember.

After making sure everyone no one is going to make a bigger fool of themselves, Evan steps out and basks under the moonlight. If he had had a few drinks, the chill in the air would be nothing to him, but it nips at his skin and sends a chill down his spine. With his arms out wide, he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, breathing in the icily air. He has taken moments throughout the day to knowledge the fact that he actually made it, but this is his first time alone… Or so he thinks.

"What're you doing, Buckley?"

Though he recognizes the voice, Evan finches at the sounds of footsteps and drops his hands to the side. "Commander McGarrett," he greets, his heart beating his chest. A second passes before Evan can slow his beating heart as he raises his hand to salute, which the commander waves off. "Sir."

"It's just us."

Evan nods as he faces the uniformed Commander. "Ok." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "How can I help you, Sir?"

McGarrett shakes his head while saying, "Drop the Sir. This is a night of celebration, Buckley." Glancing around, he carefully and meticulously scans the grounds before he waves Evan over and reaches into his chest pocket.

"S—McGarrett," Evan shutters over his words.

"SSHHH, keep it down." With a free hand, the commander horizontally bats down at the air, as he pulls out a whiskey flask and shakes it. "Come." After leading Evan away from the barrack and toward a darken building, McGarrett motions to the steps. "Sit, Buckley."

co*cking his head to the side at the odd order, Evan slowly makes his way to McGarrett, his mind spinning. "I…Um…What?" His eyes bouncing from the flask to the grin on the Commander's face. "What is this?"

McGarrett unscrews the top of the flask and takes a slip before offering it to Evan. "It's time for celebration."

"Si—" Evan shakes his head. It doesn't take a genius to know what's in it. "I'm not 21."

His smile grows and stretches across McGarrett's face. "I won't tell if you won't." He offers it again to Buckley. "Besides, if you can pull a trigger, you're old enough to drink in my eyes." His head bobs left to right, chewing on a thought. "Plus, in most of the places you'll find yourself at, it'll be legal."

For a second—just a second-, Evan wonders if this is a trick, but he tosses that idea away as fast as it appears. Commander McGarrett has been nothing but supportive, being that push that Evan needs. "Did you know that Burkina Faso is the country with the youngest drinking age? 13 years." He says as he reaches for the flask in McGarrett's outreached hand.

"Oh, really?" This isn't the first time that Evan has spewed random facts at McGarrett, but each time, he earns a cheeky grin.

"Yup. I'll probably be dead if our drinking age was 13." Evan laughs into the flask, while he settles down next to McGarrett on the steps. This isn't the first time he drunk, but the whiskey burns its way down, warming him from the inside out. sh*t, Evan curses in his head. This is the good stuff. The kind stuff that can get you real drunk, real fast. "I can't imagine drunk 13-year-olds." He coughs out. The very though gives him nightmares.

McGarrett's eyes linger on Evan for a moment before flickering to the barracks. "Just spend the night in the barracks."

Evan snickers. There is no truer statement. "I guess it's something to look forward to since I'm not lucky like you." He takes another slurp before he hands the flask back to the commander, who takes immediately takes a drink. Evan's glaze falls to McGarrett's throat, eyeing the gulp on its way down. He tosses a few words around in his head before he settles with, "Thanks for this."

"No thanks are needed, Buckley." He beams, lowering the now half empty flask. "We're family now and I couldn't let you celebrate alone."

Family. The word echoes loudly in Evan's head, bouncing painfully off his mental walls. "Family?" A pause. "What?"

"What?" McGarrett replies playfully, as he shoots Evan a pointed smile. He swings his arm up and strongly grasps Evan on the shoulder. "You didn't think I wouldn't snag you for my team? I only want the best, and I'm not above cheating." His smugness just rolls off him.

As Evan eyes the cheeky grin on the Commander's face, he can see why he rubs certain people the wrong way, but there is something about McGarrett that draws Evan in. Something is oddly enthralling about this co*ckiness, and while Evan doesn't know where this road will take him, he'll follow this man. "Commander." He utters in shock.

"I think that is another cause for celebration. Don't you think?" He rises the flask into the air before saying, "Hoo-Yah!" and taking a big swig. While wiping away the excess from his lips with the back of his right, he hands it back to Evan.

The chill from the air is suddenly gone and Evan feels light when he takes the flask back. He echoes, "Hoo-Yah!" as he finishes it off. No matter how much he drinks, it still burns on the way down, and God, Evan would love for some more.

*O*O*

Present

Buck is a different man after his hot shower, his doubts going down the drain with the dirty water. He almost jumps right back into the shower and stays under the searing droplets, but the cold water chases him out, not that it saves him. The chilly air of his apartment slaps him on the ass as soon as he steps out. On good days, he's lucky if he gets 15 minutes of hot water before he's assaulted by an arctic blast. While today is not a good day for hot water, the shower is still amazing. Nothing compares to being clean after a long, stressful day (Yes, day even if it isn't 5 yet). So, he stands there, butt ass naked, in the middle of his small bathroom, allowing the water drip down his skin, and basks in it.

A few long minutes pass before he can motive himself to move, though that is more to do with the knock at the door than his will. Buck lets out a whining groan on the second knock and reaches for the blue towel on his sink. He quickly wraps the towel around his waist and secures it as tight as he can before he reaches for a second one—white. With his eye violently twitching at another knock—this one louder and hard-, he almost gives himself a towel burn on the top of his head in frustration. After he is satisfied that his hair is dried enough not to drip, he wraps the towel around his neck and heads to the door.

"Coming." He hisses when yet another knock echoes throughout the apartment. Mindful of the towel on his waist, he quickly makes his way to the front door, his footsteps heavy. Yanking the door open, he exclaims loudly and accusatory, "Yea?!"

Adam Ruzek co*cks his head to the side and gives Buck a once over. "Just me." He puts his arms up in surrender. "Just wanted to check in on you."

Buck eyes the officer for a second before turning to the side and lets Adam in. "Fine." He motions to the inside of his small apartment. "Come in."

With a nod—his hands buried into his pockets-, Adam strolls in, his eyes flickering to each tattoo on Buck's skin. "Do you always open the door naked?" he asks, his eyebrow in his hairline.

There're many things that Buck is bashful over, being shy over his body is not one of them. Between being a Seal and a firefighter, Buck has lost his bashfulness, and now, it's just skin. Sinful sweet skin. "It's my place." He replies as he closes the door. "I can be naked If I want to. Besides," he shrugs, "being naked burns fat and increases your immune system."

Adam shots him a skeptical look. "Oh, really?"

"Yup," Buck pops out his button lip, his glaze dropping to his feet for a moment. "Take a seat. I'll be back." Already feeling raw and exposed in front of Adam without being naked, he doesn't want the towel to be the only thing covering him. Nodding, he turns and points in the direct of his room. "I'll get dress." He doesn't bother to close his bedroom door and goes to his dresser. Not caring what he grabs, he takes what's on top: an old blue LAFD T-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts. He forgoes underwear and rewraps the towel around his neck, while tossing the other on the bathroom floor.

With a big puff of air, Buck heads back out to the living room, his eyes going right to Adam on his sofa. He really doesn't know what he's feeling, but there's a rotten feeling in his gut when he realized the invite was a part of the cover. Adam is doing his job, which Buck can't fault him on. "So, what's up?" he asks, as he turns and heads to the refrigerator. He grabs the egg sandwich from his neighbor, and without bothering to heat it up, he haphazardly unwraps it, not caring about the pieces of the eggs that drop to the ground. He takes a few big bites.

"That's a nice tattoo." Adam shots out, initially dodging the question.

Mouth full, Buck's eyes drop to the tattoos on forearms. "Which one?"

"The one on your upper, inner bicep."

It takes a moment for Buck to realize which one Adam is referring to, as it's currently hidden beneath his tight sleeve. "Thanks." He replies unevenly. He doesn't like to think about the story behind it.

A tense beat passes before Adam goes, "So, who you lose?"

Buck may not have a decade long Navy Career under his belt like some people he knows, but after a bad ops (losing one of their own in the field), the group of them got tattoos. Most went large, while Buck got a medium size bone frog with a trident on his inner bicep to honor their fallen Seal. "A friend." he breathes after a tense moment. Most haven't seen the tattoo, as it's hidden beneath his sleeve or invisible when his arms are down. The ones who did either don't understand the meaning behind it, or Buck explains it away by saying he got it prior to skipping out. He doesn't talk about the man who the tattoo honors. Eddie has seen it a few times while they work out, and Buck saw the gears turn in his partner's head, but the former Soldier never poked, accepting Buck's false rejection story.

"Never gets easier." A dark shadow passes over Adam's face.

"Nope." Buck pops put the 'p'. No matter how much time has passed he can still taste Miller's blood on his tongue. While it is a pointless battle to drown out the copper taste, Buck takes another bite, stuffing his cheeks full of eggs.

Again a few tensed seconds pass before Adam suddenly leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry about earlier. I should've told you." Shifting uncomfortable in his seat, the officer huffs. "I wasn't thinking." His entire right face twitches. "Just itching to get this guy, but that doesn't change the fact that I should've asked."

"Yes, you should have." Buck pauses. "I would've said yes." It's the honest truth. Even if Buck hesitated at first (he isn't a cop), he would—will still have said yes. What that says about him isn't something Buck wants to think about, and he takes a bite to stop himself from saying stupid anything.

Adam meets Buck's eyes, scanning for something. The corners of his eyes crinkle as something flashes before Adam's eyes. "Nevertheless, it's my bad." He pauses. "I f*cked up, and I get it."

Buck isn't sure what exactly Adam 'gets', but judging by his gentle, soft tone, it's sincere. "It's okay."

"No." Adam says strongly, as he locks eyes with Buck, refusing to allow him to look away. "When I say I get it, I mean it." He exhales as he turns away. "I love being a cop. Wouldn't want to be anything else, but there're times where I feel less then…" He drifts off "…Human." He breathes out. "I can't imagine what it's like to have served, and to have it thrown back at you… One of my co-workers, Detective Halstead, who has also served- Army-, has enlightened me. I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Buck's heart settles. While it doesn't change anything, it does help to hear it.

"Something I'll keep in mind for next time."

Those words hang heavily and uncomfortably in the air, which has the gears in Buck's head spinning. A few responses get toss around in his head, but he settles with, "A repeat performance?" That comes out sounding rather sour.

Judging by the Adam's pinched face, he is regretful. "Again, sorry, but Dom has been pushing as you interest him. I couldn't say no, not without setting off some alarms. However, this time will be different." He brings up his hand, making 'an Inch' motion with his fingers. "We're this close to catching him."

Once more, Adam is lacking on the details, which leaves Buck grateful that Boden has his back, ready to go angry papa bear. He hopes the Chief will get some answers. "That's good." He stuffs the last bite into his mouth and balls the aluminum foil. While the cold sandwich leaves more to be desired, it hits the spot. The roar in his stomach dissipates.

A painful, awkward silence falls. Minutes pass before Adam huffs. "After this, I'll taking you to Molly's."

Buck's eyebrow rises. "What?"

"I'll going to make it up to you."

"You already said sorry."

Adam nods slowly before he says, "I did, but it isn't a true apology until we drink a round of beer together."

For Buck, Adam already told him what he needs. Drinks are unnecessary, but Buck is tempted. At first, he thought he could handle it, him alone in his apartment, but recent events make that a clear falsehood. "I'll think about it."

*O*O*

This night out isn't planned, but Buck can't sit in his apartment and do nothing, not tonight. The 'little' chat with Adam brought up some memories of Miller, and there's an itch running across his entire body. Without allowing himself to think, he gets dressed and books it out of his apartment.

In a pair of black cargo pants, a long sleeved burgundy checkered shirt, and a dark Denim jacket—rolled up to the elbows-, Buck pulls up to Molly's and parks across the street, a few cars down from the entrance. His nerves on fire, he grasps the steering wheel in a vice grip. Even after receiving several invites to Molly's, it feels odd to be sitting outside now, like he's breaking some kind of law. Yes, he's opening up more, but a part of him still wants to close himself off.

It feels like there are rats trying to burst out from his stomach when he reaches for the doorknob. It's so striking that Buck pulls back like he has been burned. His heart is thumping in his ear, and the rapid beating is the only thing he can hear. Whatever this is, Buck can do without it. For heck sakes, he's a former Navy Seal and a current CFD firefighter, each occupation putting his life in danger every time he suits up. Yet, he's a basket of nerves at the thought of walking into the bar. What the hell is wrong with him?

Buck squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, practicing the breathing techniques that he learned in BUDs. For a second, it works. His mind clears, and his heart slows, though that only lasts for that second, as his brain betrays him by flashing a smiling Kelly Severide. The air in his lungs suddenly vanishes, and his chest is tight. Though Buck didn't respond to Kelly's text, he is on the other side of that red door. His mustang is three cars over, but that isn't the only vehicle from 51, which isn't surprising. The bar is owned by 51 firefighters. There's no other place they would be.

You would think that would make Buck feel comfortable, as 51 feels like Home or what will become home given time. However, it's different outside of the station; the gloves are off when they are off duty. Okay, the logical part of Buck knows that's horse crap, as none of these 51 members seem like the type to pity him. Yet, the bruise, shatter part of him, created in his final days at the 118, tells him otherwise, and it shrieks whenever someone gets too close. It's almost-

Suddenly, there's a loud rattle on the driver side window, a ripple running through the glass. "sh*t," Buck exclaims loudly, his vice grip finally letting up.

At the window, an apologetic Sylvie Brett stands outside his driver side door and waves. "Sorry." She smiles softly. "Didn't mean to scare you." She mouths loudly, her voice somewhat muted through the glass.

It takes a moment to shake the jitters from his system, and another to collect his thoughts. It's too late to drive off now, not without looking crazy. With a deep breath, he reaches for the driver side door and pushes it open, Brett automatically stepping back. A force smile on his face, Buck steps out of the door and goes, "It's fine, Brett. Just thinking." Once he is clear, his hands go to his pockets, hunching over ever so slightly.

"Sylvie," she interjects, her smile sparkling.

"What?" he utters as he straightens up, closing his door with his hip.

"Call me Sylvie."

Sylvie has aways been a bright beacon for Buck at the 51, always counteracting the negative voices in his head. Heck, he is speechless at times with her. "Okay, Sylvie." He smiles back, feeling more relax.

Her eyes in soft points, she gives him a once over, clocking his nerves. Yet, there's no pity. "Coming to Molly's?"

Buck doesn't answer quickly, even though the answer isn't going to be no. "…Yes," he says after a beat.

"Good, everyone will love to see you. I think you racked up enough drinks to drink for free." Sylvie's glaze flicker to Molly's door front, eyeing a laughing couple going in.

That's quite the understatement. Buck has received quite a few drinks offers since joining the CFD, but he never took anyone up on them. He probably won't accept half of them, though he won't get away without a couple free beers tonight. "You think Herrmann will remember his offer."

Sylvie laughs. "Sure, but he'll play dumb at first."

No matter if he gets a free drink or not, that actually sounds enjoyable. God, if there's just one thing he misses, it's the banter. He just loves the back and forth, the playful jests between teammates. "Does he do that often?"

"Just when it comes to money and Molly's. Anything else, he will give you the shirt off your back."

Buck laughs. "Can't judge him for that. A firefighter will drink you out of house and home if you let them."

"Yup." Sylvie replies.

A second passes as Buck glances over his shoulder toward the bar and zeroes on the soft roar that echoes out from it. His resolve may be wavering and a part of him wants to dive back into his car, but it feels like a step back to normalcy, to the goofy man that he is. "You ready?" he asks, changing the topic slightly and offering an arm to her. If he doesn't do this now, he will chicken out.

The paramedic stares at the extend arm for a second before she nods and takes it. "Let's go. I got some eye candy to show off."

"Arm candy?" Buck's cheeks hurt smiling so hard.

"Have you seen yourself? Look at these things. So yes, arm candy." She pats him on the arm.

There's a 'right back at you' on the tip of his tongue, because Sylvie's a very beautiful woman, and any men would be lucky to have her—not that her worth is based on her beauty. She's a full package. Captain Casey just needs to get his head out of his ass. "I don't know about that."

Sylvie beams at him. "Just wait." She winks, while giving him a pointed stare, as she leads him across the street.

*O*O*

Kelly leads across the bar, his eyes drilling into his second bottle of beer, as he tries to ignore the uncomfortable sensation in his gut, while Casey sits next to him, staring a hole into his cheek. The sadness in Buck's voice was—still is- so striking that Kelly still feeling nauseous thinking about it. Kelly takes a personal offense to the loneliness in Buck's eyes. "So, Boden finally reached Voight, and from what I hear, it wasn't pretty." he states, picking at the label.

Casey's eyes flicker away. "Yea. Boden set up a meeting with Ruzek, Voight, Buck, and me on our next shift."

"Good." While he understands why he isn't included, Kelly's a little grumpy that he doesn't have an invite to this meeting. Buck told him. He should be there for support.

"Soo…" Casey starts. "You and Buckley."

While Kelly kept certain parts of Buck and his conversation to himself, Casey has been poking fun at him, zeroing in on the fact that Buck called Kelly. Kelly is quite happy Buck called him, and nothing Casey says will make him embarrassed of it. "There's nothing to talk about. It's-"

The red door to Molly's swings, and Brett strolls in like she won the lottery. She's not alone. On her arm- or is it the other way around- is Buck, who has a large smile on his face as he gazes down at her. A known—yet still surprising—feeling spikes up in side of Kelly, stabbing him in the gut, even if he knows it's unwarranted. He isn't an idiot. He knows Sylvie and Matt are dancing around each other, just waiting for the other to make the first move. (Casey should be grateful Kelly doesn't taunt him about it.) Grant, he gives them too much credit as they are both completely clueless.

Yet, that isn't the real reason why his stomach is in nuts, and no, Kelly isn't as clueless as Brett and Casey. He knows exactly what this is. His field testing tells him enough: it's all about Buck, and sh*t, if this reaction isn't enough, nothing else will be. Except for the few times that Kelly beat him to the station, he hasn't seen Buck in civvies (shirtless once or twice but not civvies), and God… Those black pants hugs Buck's butt just right. sh*t, he curses at the twisting in his gut. Like he doesn't believe his eyes, Kelly blinks his eyes a few times; however, when the image doesn't vanish, he drinks in the sight. It's just—

"Oh, it's nothing?" Casey hums, his head suddenly in Kelly's peripheral.

Kelly turns his head ever so lightly, his eye twisting. "Right back at you." he counters, strongly, as he reaches for his beer and downs it. Casey's grin irks him. He slams the empty bottle down with a huff. Kelly twists in his chair and shots Casey a dirty look. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks, pulling at his collar. Did it get hot in here?

"I do not know what you are talking about?" Casey says as his smile just gets loopier.

"Oh, Buckley!" Herrmann squeals when the Molly's owner spots the two. "Good to see you, man! What a nice surprise."

Buck's head zips to the bar and grins, as he meets Herrmann's grin. "Howdy." His voice is barely utterable over the soft chatter of the crowd.

Herrmann points to an empty seat at the bar. "Sit. Sit. I can finally get you that drink I owe you!"

Fully aware of how closely Casey is eyeing him, Kelly straightens his shirt and goes to stand to meet Buck and Brett, but Casey leads forward, halfway standing, and puts a firm hand on his best friend's shoulder, pushing him back down. He shakes his head. There's a half of dozen things he's itching to say to Casey, but he, settling down in his seat, reaches for beer before he remembers that it's empty. He grumps to himself as he waves down Stella and waves the bottle at her.

"Oh, my. Herrmann going to give someone a free drink?" Capp shouts out from next to Kelly

"This is just a reward for saving my life." Herrmann points a sharp finger at Capp. "Don't get any bright ideas."

Buck, an adorable thick flush working up the back of his neck, slowly takes a seat a few stools down from Capp. "I…don't… Um…" He fumbles over his words.

"I hear the list of people who owe you a drink is long," Kelly interjects loudly over Capp, who looks none so amused by the shout. Ignoring the glare from Capp, he's focused on Buck, though he can feel Brett's heavy glaze on him.

Herrmann snaps the cap off the beer and slides it over to Buck. "Yea, well, just as long as you redeem those drinks here." He's being completely serious, but it still draws some laughs. "What? We firefighter got to support each other."

"By buying drinks?" Capp interjects, giving Herrmann a confused glance.

"Huff it," Herrmann playfully hisses. "I got a business to run."

Buck's eyes dance between the two members of 51. "Makes sense. Only about one-third of businesses last ten years. You got to do what you got to do."

Kelly doesn't know if Buck spouting off random facts is a defense mechanism or if he's simply fascinated by random facts. Either way, he enjoys the small, proud smile on his face whenever he says one.

"See. See. Thanks Buckley. That's what I'm talking about." Herrmann waves at Buck. "I need to protect my business." He puffs out his chest.

"What are you protecting it from, Herrmann?" Casey asks. His eyes flicker to Brett, lingering for a while, and soften.

Herrmann gives them each a sharp, pointed stare that screams 'really?' "You, assholes, will all eat me out of house and home." He challenges, pointing a finger at each of them.

"Oh, we would never do that." Capp counters, as he slides his empty beer forward. Herrmann sends daggers.

"For some reason, I doubt that." Stella appears suddenly in front of Kelly and injects. Smoothly and gracefully, she slides a fresh beer in front of the Lieutenant before she walks away, and squeezes pass Herrmann for a clear liquor bottle on the shelf behind him. "Anyhow, how are you, Buck?" There's a sparkle in her eyes as she gives him a once over. "How's are you liking Chicago? I hear you only been in the city for a few months."

Buck shifts in his chair as he takes a slip from his beer. "Yea, but I hadn't ventured out much yet."

Brett places a hand on Buck's forearm and squeezes. "Well, we should plan an outing."

No, Kelly is not jealous. He's not. While Buck has accepted his offer to explore Chicago, the Ex-Floater has yet to pull the trigger. Granted, it has barely been a day. Besides, Buck-

"Oh, what outing are we doing?" Foster pops up next to Brett and asks, a Chester Cat smile on her face. "Dancing?" She shuffles back and forth between her left and right to imagery music. "There's this new hot nightclub."

"I like that idea." Stella hums as she turns back down the bar with the liquor bottle. "Hold that thought." Her glaze falls on the customer at the end of the car.

His attention changing, Kelly's glaze follows Stella, watching her, as she mixes a drink and sets it down in front of the customer. There's a smile on her face as she chats up the flirty man. She gives him one final laugh as she slides him a napkin before she turns back and rejoins the conversation. "So, when are we going dancing?" Stella asks as she wiggles pass Herrmann once more and leans across the bar.

"Wait. Wait. Wait?" Capp puts his hands up. "So, how is it a Girl night if Buckley tags along?"

Foster rounds Brett and leads over her right shoulder. "I feel like Buckley will be an awesome wing man." She winks at him before she looks to the other paramedic and adds, "It has been too long since we had a night out at the clubs."

"Uh," Buck utters as he sits back in his chair, his eyes flickering between the two.

Kelly blinks, wondering what he missed in the last few minutes. He heard Foster mention dancing, but a girl's night out with Buck? How long was he distracted by Stella? Though, that's a moot point if he goes by Buck's expression. Kelly doesn't know what type of guy he's, not that he will criticize the man. He can't, not with the line of women he has left in the dust. sh*t, there're nights that he doesn't even remember, totally backouts. So no, he will not judge Buck for the type of man he is… well unless he hits old grandmas, but he totally doesn't seem like the type.

However, Kelly digresses. The fact is that Buck doesn't look thrived by the prospect of picking up random people at a bar gets to Kelly. "I don't know. That's sound scary." He interjects, ignoring the pointed, narrow stare from Foster.

Casey nods mindlessly, arms folded across his chest with a beer in hand. "I think being stuck in a car with you is scary."

Kelly twists and glares at his best friend. "I think living with you is scary."

"I think it's scary to work with you two," Herrmann interjects.

Capp's glaze shifts between everyone. "You all scare me." he shouts out, as he raises his glass.

"Right back at you." Stella replies.

"Lies, I'm adorable." Capp gives her a giant smile.

The tension in Buck's shoulder is gone, a loopy smile on his face, and Kelly settles back into his chair. The change of topic goes over Kelly's head as he watches Buck engage with everyone around him. It is just wonderful to see how the nerves rolled off Buck with each minute that passes by.

*O*O*

Kelly finishes his beer and waves goodbye, ignoring the silly smile directed at him by Stella. Buck said his byes and skipped out a minute ago after Foster once again offered to show him the night life. While Kelly normally wouldn't leave so soon, he wants to catch Buck before he's gone so he can check on the man. Yes, seeing Buck in Molly's is a huge step forward, and though Buck seemed good for the few hours, he didn't offer up much, but he did join the conversation, which is a plus.

The chilly air hits Kelly as soon as he steps out of Molly's, and honestly, it's a relief. While Herrmann keeps Molly's at a cool temp, it felt like it was 90 degrees in there under Casey's hot glaze. His skin is tacky and sweaty, and he just wants to bathe in chill for a moment, though only for a moment. His internal temperature becomes a second thought, when he spots Buck at his Jeep, and Kelly makes a beeline over, nearly getting hit by a car. The driver blares his horn, but the horn doesn't register to Kelly. "Buck, hold up!"

Buck's head pops up, his eyes wildly searching the street. "Kelly?" he utters, as he straightens himself.

Kelly jogs to the sidewalk, his eyes never leaving Buck. "Hey." He replies, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.

"Um?" Buck's eyes dash to Molly's red door for a second as he nervously begins to swirl his Jeep keys on his index fingers. "Did I forget something?"

Once again, Kelly gives Buck a once over, noting again how nice he looks in that dark denim jacket. "No. No. I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing." He takes a hesitant step forward, dragging his fingers on the top of the jeep. "You looked iffy when Foster brought up dancing and you being a wing man. Don't like clubs or something?"

Buck's blues eyes meet Kelly's and shakenly holds them for a moment. "I…Um…" His cheeks go rosy. "You…um…see." He pauses as a glimpse of fear crosses his eyes. "No, I…um…" He bits down on his lip. "I don't know if I'm ready for it." He must've seen Kelly's inquiring stare as he lets out a heavy breath and leans against his jeep. He buries his hands into his pockets and looks up at the dark sky. "Don't want to fall into old habits. Don't want to become Buck 1.0 again."

"Buck 1.0?"

Buck exhales a large puff of air, his eyes glassing over. One second passes. Two seconds pass. Three seconds pass. Whatever this is, Buck is ashamed by it. Kelly follows Buck's lead and lean against the Jeep with him, his eyes to the sky as well. With a grin, he teases, "I thought we already discussed this, Ev. We need to go away to see stars." His eyes squeezing shut, Buck falls back and just laughs. It's gorgeous and Kelly needs a second to think before adding, "Cities and night glazing don't mix. We can't see the twinkles here."

"Did you know stars don't twinkle? It's Earth's atmosphere. As the light from a star passes through the atmosphere, it passes through many layers of rapidly differing density. This deflects the light, like a ball in a pinball machine." Buck removes his hands from his pockets and waves them in the air. It isn't clear at first, but he's pretending to be playing a pinball machine. "The light eventually gets to your eyes, but every deflection causes it to change slightly in color and intensity. The result is twinkling."

"You're a ball of knowledge, aren't you?" Kelly acknowledges, fondly. Again, Buck goes red. "Which I think is cute." He adds quickly. Buck's head turns, his eyes scanning every inch of Kelly's face. Silence falls, not that a Chicago Street is truly silent. There's something in Buck's eyes that strikes Kelly in his gut.

Suddenly, Buck shakes his head and looks off in a different direction. "Buck 1.0 isn't something I'm proud of." He pauses.

"It's okay, Evan." Kelly says, unconsciously switching to Buck's first name. "I hold no judgement."

Buck's eyes flicker to Kelly for a split second before his glaze falls to his feet. "I had a sex a—" He stops himself, shaking his head. "Buck 1.0 is stage of my life when I hid behind sex. Pretty much had sex with anything that moved. I'm not stupid." The resentment in Buck's voice is suffocating. "I know now that I masked my pain in sex, enjoying the taste of flesh. I… a-almost lost my job over it…No, I did lose my job. My Fire Captain in Los Angeles did fire me over it." He painfully huffs as he violently shakes his head. "I got my job back by some miracle." He glances up at Kelly, trying to read his mind. "Got into therapy. Got a measure on my issues." He bobs his head back and forth with a weak smile. "Well, most of them. I think we all are f*cked up in some way. Anyways, the point is that I slept my way through LA trying to hide-"

"Trying to hide from your loneliness." Kelly finishes, recalling their conversion from this morning. Just like that, it hits him like a ton of bricks. Buck's so lonely that he doesn't trust himself not to fall into his old ways. Everyone gets lonely, but for Buck to be this scared, his loneliness is worse than Kelly thinks. "And you don't want to fall into old habits."

Buck takes a deep breath. "Yea." He says simply, keeping his eyes down. His shoulders are hunched over.

Kelly reaches over and squeezes Buck in the shoulder. "Hey, look at me." Nothing. "Look at me." he orders, softly. It feels like hours, but Buck eventually looks up and meets Kelly's eyes. "None of what you told me changes anything." Yes, he's curious what exactly Buck did to get fire, but that's ancient history and has no bearing on today. "Heck, I'm pretty sure the same can be said about me. Just ask Cruz. He'll say I slept with half of Chicago."

Relief floods Buck's face at the sight of the grin on Kelly's face. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Kelly squeezes Buck's shoulder again. "Hey, my offer is still good. A tour of the city or… a movie night if you like that better. Or both. I'm here."

Buck stares at him, only blinking. "Y-yea, either sound goods." He finally shutters out.

Kelly hates that he brought Buck's mood down, but it feels like he finally got a wall down. How many more does that leave? "How about tomorrow? We can explore Chicago. Just me and you." Kelly's heart skips on that, but he ignores it.

Buck tilts his head, his eyes drilling into Kelly. "Um… yea—yes." He states forcefully.

"Okay, tomorrow." Kelly smiles as his hands drop to his sides. "Let's start early. 10 O'clock okay?" It may be early for their day off, but he wants to make sure they get through all the sights.

"Only if we fit the Gangsters and Ghosts Tour in."

"Yea, we can." Kelly responds, resisting the urge to playfully hit Buck in the shoulder. "I will look up times when I get back to my apartment." He nods and turns from Buck, the excitement for tomorrow almost too great to focus. "I'll pick you up tomorrow." He doesn't give Buck time to object and heads to his car with a grin on his face. One point for Kelly and no points for Foster and her dancing.

Chapter 15: This is not a Date

Chapter Text

Chapter 15:

This is not a Date

This is not a date.

This is not a date.

This is not a date.

Yet, it feels like a date no matter how many times Buck says it aloud, and every inch of himself is surging with those familiar first date nerves. He can't tell you how many outfits he has tried on and tossed aside on the bed in rejection, creating a small mountain. Tossing them like they burned them, he can tell that none of the outfits are right, though he can't tell you why. They just aren't, which frustrates him. Why aren't any of them right? This isn't a date! So, why does his outfit matter? Because it does. The stupid voice in his voice points out.

As Buck stares at his half empty closet, his exasperation grows, although it's mostly at himself and his stupidity. When he turned tail and bolted, he only packed what he 'thought' he needed, which wasn't a lot, and left most of his 'date' clothes…not that this is a date. This is not a date.

Shaking his head, Buck takes a deep breath. "It's fine." He'll just have to deal with the fact that everything he wants to wear—his perfect make out clothes—are collecting dust in his storage unit in LA. "It's fine." Every time. Yes, every time he thinks he finds the right outfit, a certain item that he left behind pops to mind, and he's immediately disheartened when he realizes where it is. After the sixth outfit, a crazy nonsensible idea comes to mind: to drive to CA and get his clothes, and if LA wasn't so far away, Buck would've jumped into his Jeep. However, that idea is just a nonsensible and impractical idea, even if he should bring his property to Chicago. His home is here now. He needs his stuff here.

But Buck digresses. He has a date to get—No, he does not have a date. He violently shakes his head in a failed attempt to force his mind away from the word 'date'. "There has to be another word," he mutters bitterly to himself, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. How could a single word send Buck into a tailspin? It's just a word. A simple word to mark a date on the calendar. By itself, it doesn't mean anything. Buck is the one adding meaning to it prematurely…. Prematurely? That would infer that there is a possibility of there being a 'date' in the future.

Why is—

On his cheap, ugly, fake wood nightstand, his phone vibrates loudly, snapping Buck out of his rabbit hole. With a deep exhale, he swiftly crosses to his phone, his heart skipping when he sees a text from Kelly. For a second—only a second-, he fears, an engrained response, the worse, but when Kelly's smiling face flashes across his face, he dashes that thought quickly. He isn't going to allow himself to go down that path. Nope. Just nope. He refuses, and instead, he, with a smile, opens up the text and silently reads it.

'Be there in 20. Wear comfortable shoes.'

While it is obvious why (the Ghost/Gang tour is a walking tour), that text fries Buck's brain, and he bluescreens. It takes a few seconds for his brain to reboot. And when it does, he turns and shoots a glance at his shoes with a concerned/confused look. A second ticks. "sh*t," he curses, both confused and angry, as the clock on the wall ticks abnormally loud. He can't waste any more time on this little freak out, but God, what shoes should he pick? "…sh*t. f*ck. sh*t," he huffs as he realizes he doesn't have the time for his indecisiveness. What the hell is wrong with him?

Plus, he has run out of clothes at this point. "f*ck it." He exclaims loudly, as he abruptly reaches into his closet and grabs a random pair of shoes, a pair of Natural Grey (Light Grey Sole), wool running shoes. Next, he stumps to his bed, and while shutting his eyes, he reaches into the pile of clothes on his bed and randomly picks up a white, short sleeve Henley shirt. He then feels around for a pair of dark blue jeans. Satisfied for a moment, he gets dressed, but it's missing one thing. "Got it." To top it off the look, he passes back to the closet and yanks his dark gray bomber jacket off a hanger. A seed of doubt weaves itself forward when he stares at the outfit in the mirror, but Buck quickly vetoes it with a swift kick. He really does not have time for another wardrobe change. Not that his clothes matter.

This is not a Date.

Exhaling, his eyes zip to the loud ass ticking clock on the wall, his right eye twitching with every tick of the second hand. Huffing, he snatches his wristwatch off the dresser. He, his fingers running over the bands, stares at the old, sentimental timepiece, a Luminox 'Navy SEAL' watch. It was a gift from Steve after their first assignment… after he learned Buck didn't have one. To Steve, that was a cardinal sin, which he had to correct. Shaking his head and refusing to allow memories take hold, Buck flips over his wrist and buckles the watch.

For a second time, Buck turns back to the mirror, and with one last, deep breath, he takes a good look at himself, tugging at the bottom of his white shirt. "You look good," he tells himself loudly before turning away quickly. If he stares any longer at himself, he will be lost down the ribbit hole again. "You got this." He states, hypering himself up. He says it a few more times before he heads out the door.

And reminding him one last time, this is not a date.

*O*O*

When Kelly asked for Buck's address, Buck gave him an address for a diner a few blocks down, too ashamed. No, he isn't ashamed of his neighbors, most of them amazing besides Dom, and he loves them, but he doesn't want Kelly to pity him for his sh*tty apartment. No. No, that would not do. Besides, Buck just wants to enjoy his day with Kelly. Is that so wrong? He just needs a day where the past stays firmly in the past, and he refuses to let anything hold him down today. Today is going to be a good, date or no date.

In the nick of time, Buck makes it to the meeting spot, a single droplet running down his forehead, just as Kelly pulls up next to him, windows down and a large smile. "Buck!" Kelly calls when the mustang comes to a complete stop.

"Hey," Buck, his heartbeat in his ears, greets as he wastes no time getting into the car. Before he can comprehend what he's doing, his eyes, hungerly, scan Kelly. Like Buck, he isn't dressed in anything fancy, but Kelly can make anything look good. This time, the Lieutenant is working a Brown leather jacket, blue jeans, and a light blue shirt. His shirt is hiked up just a tad and a bit of tan skin is visible. This is not a date. This is not-

"Buck?"

Said man's eyes pop up, red blooming in his cheeks. Buck smiles so hard that his cheeks hurt as he prays that Kelly didn't notice. "Yea, I'm good."

Kelly watches Buck settle into the seat and buckle in before he says, "I would've picked you up at your place."

"It's fine." Buck smiles at him, cheeks and all. "So, where are we off to first?" Regardless of how attractive Kelly is, Buck is just happy/excited to be here. You don't realize how much human contract you need until it's gone, and he doesn't want to think about anything else. He especially doesn't want to put his misplaced attraction on Kelly, who is just being a friend. Kelly doesn't need the burden of Buck's whatever the hell he is feeling.

Quickly glancing over his shoulder for any oncoming cars, Kelly answers, "Royal Sonesta Hotel for the Gangster and Ghost tour."

Yes, while Buck mentioned the tour to Kelly, he is still surprised that Kelly listened, not that he thought Kelly would ignore him. He just didn't think… He takes a deep breath and exhales completely. Okay, he doesn't know how to explain it, only that he is surprised. Yes, he knows he will benefit from a good therapist, and yet, the idea scares the crap out of him for a few different reasons. "Cool." His smile matches the large goofy grin on Kelly's.

"Cool." Kelly echoes as he glances over at Buck. "We got an hour before the tour. You want to stop quickly for food?"

Yes, food would be nice; however, Buck's nerves have his stomach in knots, literal knots. He feels nauseous already without food in his stomach, so there's no way that he'll be able to keep it down. Date or no date, this still feels like one, the butterflies in his stomach feral. It's like he can feel the flutter of each wing. "Um, I'm good."

"Are you sure? Might be awhile before we can get a bite." Kelly rubs his nose. "Got the entire day planned."

A fat laugh tickles up Buck's throat and erupts from his mouth, him unable to stop it. A round of snickers follows. His nausea starts to dissipate with every snort. "T-the entire day, Kel?" He gasps breathily, as he rolls his eyes.

Kelly shoots an equally playful smirk at Buck. "That's just how I roll." To emphasis his point, his right hand leaves the steering wheel and twists in a rolling motion in the air.

Buck co*cks his heads to the side, giving Kelly an incredulous, narrow stare. "Oh, really. For some reason," he rubs at his nose, "I don't believe that. You don't seem like the schedule type of guy."

With a quick peep, Kelly glances over and gives him a mischievous yet offended frown. "Ouch, man! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Um…" Buck is all smiles. "Have you met yourself?"

"Excuse me?!" While he sounds a little miffed, Kelly beams. "What are you basing this off on?"

The question, though it wasn't intended to, gives Buck pause. Does he know for sure? No, as he hasn't known Kelly for that long, but Kelly, who gives off wild and spontaneous vibes, doesn't seem like the type to schedule the entire day. Buck is definitely not the type either…. though there have been times when he was trying to impress someone. "Have you met yourself?"

Kelly, shaking his head and chuckling, zooms through traffic. "I'm pppretty," he purrs, popping out the 'p', "sure the same can be said about you."

"Okay, Okay." He throws his arms up. "That's fair." The nerves, the butterflies, are settling, even though his heart is flittering. Once more, Buck has to tell himself this is not a date, because this is not a date. It's not! Yet, his brain and heart don't want to listen, feeling lighter than he felt in nearly a year. God, why does he want this to be a date? Besides, after everything he went through, how does he fall this hard for someone so fast? Okay, it isn't too hard to understand, especially when Kelly smiles at him with that gorgeous smile of his no matter what Bucks tells him. There's no pity or judgement in those eyes. While it scares the crap out of him, he wants to tell him everything.

*O*O*

Though Kelly has lived in Chicago his entire life, the Gangster and Ghost tour is very informative, and he's learning things about his city that he never knew… well, when he pays attention, which he hasn't been doing lately. As the tour guide stands in front of the Congress Hotel, Kelly's eyes are solely on Buck and his gorgeous smile. Stop Kelly. The words 'Al Capone' and 'bootlegging operations' go over his head, Kelly too captivated by Buck. For weeks, he has watched the tension slowly—but steady—drain from Buck's shoulder and a smile take its place, but today, Buck looks like a different man, tension free.

Kelly's hand twitches at his side, itching to reach out to Buck. It has nothing to do with the fact that Buck's a guy… or maybe it does, but not for the reasons most would think. If Buck was a woman, he would've grabbed Buck's hand and held him close… His 'little' experiment told him that he's attracted to Buck, and it doesn't bother him that he's a man. He isn't ashamed to be seen with a man. No, his issue is that he doesn't know how to be with a man or if Buck wants to be with a man. Or if he even wants to be with Kelly. You can ask Ritter, his brain reasons, but he shuts that down. He is not asking Ritter for dating advice. No doubt entirety of 51 would hear if he did.

Soon enough, they're moving again—the joys of walking tours—and Kelly is snapped from his thoughts, trailing behind Buckley. For a moment, his eyes drop to Buck's round ass before he, flustered, turns away and quickens his steps to get side by side with the ex-floater. "Enjoying yourself?" Kelly asks, softly bumping shoulders with him. From the corner of his eyes, he notices the intense wandering stares from two women in their early to mid-30s.

Not sure if it is intentional, Buck ignores the pointed stares from the chatty ladies and sets his blinding smile on Kelly. "Yes, I am." He shifts his weight to his left and wiggles his right foot. "I'm glad that I picked the right shoes for this."

"Good. Good. That's the most important thing."

"Yes, don't want backpain or sore feet."

"Nope we can't have that." Kelly leans toward Buck, his hand twitching at his side, and before he realizes what he's doing, he reaches out for Buck, the heat—alluring and irresistible - rolling off the Ex-Floater. Without warning, it jumps to Kelly's fingers and up his arms, right to his heart which takes a moment for Kelly to acknowledge. sh*t, he curses when he realizes what is happening: his fingers hovering over Buck's wrist. In the most ungraceful and obvious move, he flings—far too forcefully- his arm up and plumps it down awkwardly and gawkily on Buck's shoulder. "B-but I don't know about my shoes," he fibs, giving Buck a soft pat. Okay, not a total lie as his black ankle boots, though comfortable, not the best for walking.

Buck's eyes drop, as he shakes his head. "Maybe, you should've taken your own advice."

Kelly laughs, his hand slipping from Buck's shoulder. "Geez. No love here." He teases, earning a chuckle from Buck.

The playful banter dies between the firefighters, as the tour guide continues the tour, after a strained smile. Yet, the lieutenant's eyes are on Buck, who—like a good student- is soaking it all in. Buck reminds him of a small child at a fire station for the first time, and Kelly's heart skips, in unison, with Buck's steps. God, it's breathtaking to watch the freedom and joy in the young man's big frame. His hands are out, not hidden in his pockets, and his shoulders are large.

A few stops later, they're in front of the Colonial Theatre, where the Iroquois Theatre once stood. The history of the location is disheartening, but Buck's ears perk up—not that he isn't already following the tour guide like a puppy—at the words 'Great Chicago Fire of 1903.' For not being a Native Chicagoan, Kelly isn't sure how much Buck knows, but for him the history of it engraved into them from their history classes in junior high.

The guide waves up at the theatre. "The Great Chicago Fire of 1903 was the deadliest theater fire and the deadliest single-building fire in U.S. history, resulting in at least-"

"-602 deaths." Buck interjects woefully yet enthusiastically.

"Yes." The guide smiles heavily as she goes on to explain how it started. Sparks from an arc light ignited a muslin curtain, probably as a result of an electrical short circuit. A stagehand tried to douse the fire with the Kilfyre canisters provided, but it quickly spread to the fly gallery high above the stage. She pauses in her narrative as she waves to a street/ally next to them, and says, "is called 'Death Alley' because of the unusually high sightings of ghosts and apparitions in the area." In a creepy voice, she starts to describe the multiple encounters people have faced in this ally.

For Kelly, the stories fly pass him, his eyes trained on the open expression on Buck's face. While Kelly enjoys a good camp fire story, he isn't a believer in the supernatural. Ghost stories are just stories to him, which seems to be the opposite for Buck. Buck's eyes are large—his blue eyes shining-, putting each story to memory as if it is life or death. It's adorable to watch the expressions go from awe to 'oh, sh*t'. Unsure what is coming over him—this frisky urge-, Kelly creeps up next to, his head hovering just above Buck's right shoulder. "Scared, Buckley?" he whispers playfully in his ear.

Buck's head spins, meeting Kelly's eyes. There's barely an inch between them, but neither moves, just gazing—though Kelly won't use that word aloud—into each other's eyes. "Me? Never."

"Oh, really?" His eyebrow mischievously rises.

Simply blinking, Buck doesn't say anything. A moment passes then another and another. Suddenly, he snaps back and puts two solid feet between them, which Kelly tries not to take personally. "Yup," he pops out a shaky 'p.'

"Is that nerves I sense?" Kelly has pegged Buck as a scary movie kind of guy, but the hairs on the back of his neck tells a different story. Though, some people love that feeling, their nerves on fire. They love that rush of adrenaline that hits them, which Kelly can't fault him for. He is also an adrenaline junky.

"NOOOO," Buck gawks awkwardly, his arms waving wildly. Once more, he earns an eyeful from those chatty women and the guide, which silents him rather forcefully. He stiffens and his mouth slams shut, his cheeks turning cherry red.

Kelly's eye twitches as he forces back a death glare, not a fan of a silent Buck… Though, he understands how two loud individuals can be frustrating on a tour. Nevertheless, he doesn't like it. "Hmm." He hums.

That got Buck's attention, the redness in his cheeks softening, and his eyes settle, but he doesn't say anything, not until they reach the "Murder Castle." Once more, the excitement is flowing through Buck's core. "Actually, there's no evidence. Just all claims, but really fascinating all the same."

Once again, Kelly ignores the tour guide and turns his inquisitive gaze onto Buck. While Buck's random knowledge doesn't surprise him, his interest is peeked. "Did you do research before coming on this tour, Ev?" he teases.

It seems like there's a permanent shade of red on Buck's face as he flushes. "Umm," he bits down nervously on his bottom lip. "Yes." He adds quickly and quietly.

The tour guide's words becoming background noise, Kelly lets out a chuckle. "That's adorable. I like it."

Buck stiffens and, if possible, turns a deeper red, his entire body red. Clumsily and awkwardly, he rubs at his nose, his eyes on the tour guide. "I…um…"

Kelly mischievously bumps Buck in the shoulder, resisting the urge to snatch up Buck's hand yet again. A bit of exasperation flashes up inside of him, annoyed at himself for his thirstiness. God, thirstiness? He's too old for words like that, and it's especially too soon to be thirsting after Buckley, who probably isn't looking for a relationship. "Nothing to be embarrassed about, Evan." Buck's first name just rolls off Kelly's tongue, feeling normal and right.

One blink. Two blinks. Three blinks. Buck's eyes go large, his breathing speeds up. "Yea, I..um…like knowing things." He shrugs, as his breathing settles.

It's moments like this that snap Kelly back to the truth: someone hurt Buck. His protective urge roars up inside of him once more, but he shoves it aside and drowns this anger. Kelly's feelings are not relevant, but besides, Buck doesn't need Kelly's anger, even if it is justified. "And there's nothing wrong with that."

"Really?" Buck's eyes, silently pleading, drill into Kelly's, searching for any kind of falsehood or pity. When he sees none, he nods softly and smiles.

"Nope, not at all." The smile Kelly earns from Buck is stunning and breathtaking. Literally breathtaking, his chest tight. He has to remember to breathe. Even the chatty women noticed, which goes straight to Kelly's ego. He's on cloud 9, his pride surging. Who put that smile on Buck's face? He did. Who got Buck to relax and enjoy himself? Kelly did. And while he feels like a rock star, nothing compares to the knowledge that Buck is happy. Kelly is happy that Buck is happy. God, what is happening to him?

*O*O*

The Guided Architecture Cruise is nice if only for the fact that they can sit. Kelly is used to being on his feet all day, but it's amazing to sit after walking the city for two hours, especially if his shoes aren't the best. Kelly sinks into the unpleasant chair and shifts until he is comfortable… or as comfy that he's going to get. Buck, on the other hand, is on the edge of his seat with no care about his comfortability, and once again, is a little happy puppy. "Enjoying yourself?" Kelly asks, leaning toward buck.

"Yes." Buck's right leg is fidgeting.

Just like with the ghost and gang tour, Kelly is more focused on Buck than the tour and spends the entire time watching the young man. While he has already noted how happy and relaxed Evan has been all day, he can't stop noticing it and making mental notes on it. It's just so shocking to see, and yet, Kelly loves every second of it. Every time Buck leans forward—almost falling out of his seat each time—and points up at the magnificent architecture. Kelly's heart skips, and his chest tightens. He feels like a horny teenager lusting after his first crush, which annoys the hell out of him. He is not a teenager! And yet...

Kelly wants to draw Evan close. He wants to lace their hands together. He wants to hold him close. God, he just wants to claim Evan Buckley's lips with his own.

No.

No.

No.

This is not a date. Not a date even if Kelly wishes it is.

When the ship pulls back into dock, Kelly sits there in shock, his brain snapping back to reality. With a stunned look, his head twists around, quickly noting that the tour has ended. sh*t, where did the time gone? No, seriously? Where did the time go? Where did the two hours go? "Oh, hey." Kelly utters, awkwardly, when he notices Buck inquisitively staring down at him.

"You okay?" Buck asks, a goofy crooked grin.

Kelly takes a deep breath to calm his jackhammering heart. The first attempt fails, demanding a second. In fact, it takes four deep breaths to smooth out his voice. "Yes." No matter the nerves coursing through his veins, Kelly is okay.

"Coming?"

"Yup." Kelly chippers.

Buck mindlessly yet eagerly nods. "Soooo… Where are we heading to now?"

Following Buck off the boat, Kelly's eyebrow goes up as the Ex-Floater impulsively and thoroughly scans the crowd, which isn't the first time he had noticed this quirk. However, he shoves that away for another time and goes, "You can't go a tour of Chicago without going to the Ledge, and we might as well check out the Skydeck while we're there."

Glancing over his shoulder, Buck asks, "What's the Skydeck? I bet it isn't what I am thinking."

"An interactive exhibit of Chicago's history, but it's the Ledge I want to show you," Kelly answers, picking up speed to walk side by side with his not date. When he catches up, Buck grins, a Chester Cat grin. "Oh, is this your research smile?"

Buck is all cheeks when he bashfully replies. "Maybe." Kelly can only smile.

*O*O*

Kelly and Buck take their time through the Skydeck exhibit, Buck reading each panel. He gets goofy after the third one and adds in some accents, which are all pretty decent if Kelly is honest. Sure, Buck's voice is perfect the way it is, but he can't deny that his English accent is hot. That aside—yes that aside-, Kelly doesn't want to miss out on the fun and starts talking in on his own weird accent. None of them are as good as Buckley's and Kelly can't even finish a sentence, but that doesn't stop the fun. No, it's the elderly couple—under 60s- a few feet of them that shuts them up with a glare that can level a block. Kelly, his unbashful self, waves at them and says with a straight face, "Hello! This place is lovely, don't you think? No? Well, have a nice day." Buck literally has to turn away and bite down on his lip to stop the thunderous laughter on his tongue. His legs are shaking under the force of it. The Elderly couple gives them one last glare before they turn and walk away.

"You can be an asshole." Buck states bluntly after he's able to calm himself.

Kelly gives him a co*cky eyebrow raise and a smirk. "I've never denied being an asshole." He pauses as he stretches his arms above his head. "I can be a huge asshole at times."

"Am I special? Free from this ass-ism?" Buck teases, rubbing his nose with his index finger.

The world stops for Kelly, his gaze falling to Buck's. A novel pass between their eyes, all nonverbally, and man, it kicks the Lieutenant right in the chest. Whatever answer he gives, it will answer more than just the spoken question. It will answer questions that he doesn't know exist, questions he doesn't even begin to know how to answer. However, honesty is key. "I'm pretty sure no one is safe from my ass-ism," Kelly smiles softly over the word.

"Not even Captain Casey?"

"Not even Matt. He probably gets it the worse." Kelly responds, regrettably. He takes a deep breath before he gets serious. "Honestly, I can be an asshole for no reason at times." He shudders as a few select memories bounce forward. "I thrive to be better, which I believe I'm being, but I will always be a work in progress."

Buck takes a small step forward, his eyes kind and non-judgmental. "Aren't we all work in progress. The only issue I see is if you don't believe that."

Kelly smiles softly at Buck, stopping his mind from wandering. Today is supposed to be a fun and enjoyable day, not to problem solve Buck's history. Before he can hope to peel back Buck's layers, he needs the man to trust him, to feel safe with him. "Very true." Silence falls, their eyes meeting. No words are spoken for a solid minute, and once more, there are words being passed between them that Kelly cannot verbalize. Whatever it is, Kelly hopes Buck finds the answers he wants and only transmits friendship and love. "Really to go to the Ledge?" Kelly finally asks. Buck doesn't answer and simply nods.

*O*O*

Like everyone does on their first trip to the Ledge, Buck side-eyes the glass box protruding out of the tall building. "I know it's tempered glass, but…" He shoots Kelly a nervous, skeptical look over his shoulder as he wiggles a foot forward. He barely taps the on the glass floor before he tucks his leg back under him.

Kelly can't help but chuckle. "Well, if you fall, you won't be alone. It will be a party on the way down. What kind of dance should we do on the way down?" Shaking his hip, he nods to the couple on the other side of the ledge, their faces pressed against the glass wall.

As if Kelly suggested kicking puppies, Buck rears back, his mouth wide opened. "Kelly!" he shushed.

"What?" Kelly sheepishly smiles. "It's the truth."

"But we're firefighters! First Responders," Buck protests, his voice cracking. "We can't say that."

Kelly shakes his head, laughing his ass off. First responders are known for their dark humor, and half of what they say will cancel them if a civilian heard, but honestly, it's how most of them get through to the day. "You can't tell me you hadn't heard worse."

"I…I…"

"See."

Buck narrows his eyes. "hmmm."

"Don't hmmm me."

Suddenly, Buck's grin turns mischievous, his smile reaching ear to ear. "What are you going to do about it?"

His co*ckiness and friskiness in both stunning and beautiful, and it takes Kelly a moment reboot. "Is that a challenge?" Oh, how he loves challenges. Kelly doesn't wait for a response, as he swiftly closes the distance between them, putting a firm hand on the small of Buck's back, right above his ass. "Because I never turn down a challenge." He's all grins when he smoothly and vigorously shoves Buck forward, right onto the glass floor.

Flailing his arms, Buck squawks—earning some harsh stares from the couple—like a bird, while his terrified stare drops to his feet, his cheeks turning all kind of colors. "K-Kel!?"

"What?" Buck doesn't grace Kelly with a response and continues to squawk like a baby chick. "Evan, you're fine." Kelly's voice, a tone he uses specifically for his lovers, is delicate and gentle. "Look."

Hearing his name on Kelly's tongue, Buck freezes and drops his arms. His head pops up, his eyes scanning his surroundings. He freezes for 30 seconds, his chest the only part of him moving. He takes hesitative steps forward until he's inches from the glass wall and lifts his hand, palm out. His shaky hand hovers over the surface before he presses his palm against the glass. It's cold to the touch, but Buck doesn't pull back from the glass. A look of awe replaces the wild panic expression that it once held mere seconds ago. "Wow." He utters, the tension gone from his body.

Kelly, his eyes on Buck, takes that as his clue to join him on the Ledge, but instead of reaching out to Buck and grasping his hand with his, Kelly bumps softly with his shoulder. "Beautiful, isn't it?" He pokes, though he isn't sure to what he is referring to. The city that he loves? Or the man next to him with largest smile Kelly has ever seen? "I've been in this city for my entire life, but it's something else to see it from up here."

"It is." Buck's gaze bounces across the skyline. "The view is probably breathtaking at night."

Yes, the city is beautiful at night, and while the time ticks by and there's a touch of darkness in the horizon, it doesn't compare. "It is." Kelly answers. Seeing the city lit up is something he will never forget, but it still doesn't compare to being here with Buck, who just shines. sh*t, what is wrong with you, Severide? Why are you turning into goo?

Buck's hand twitches at his side, though it remains tucked at his side. "Thanks for bringing me here."

Kelly's heart constricts in his chest, and it gets hard to breathe. Again, there's something more in Buck's opened expression, a world of pain and relief all mixed together. It's odd. "It's no problem."

Taking his eyes off Chicago, Buck locks eyes with Kelly—causing everyone else to fade—and gasps him by the forearm. "No, Kelly." He states firmly, his eyes blaring. "Thank you." He motions to the city. "I didn't realize how much I needed this. God, I needed this." He takes a deep breath, his grip tightening.

"I…um…" Kelly is suddenly tongue-tied, his entire mouth numbed, as Buck's candid steals his breath. "Um…" It takes several long seconds for his brain to kick back into gear. Everything is starting to set in: Buck is opening up to him. Starting to trust him, which Kelly will wear with honor. "Ev, hey. No thanks needed. We're family, and this is what we do. We will always have your back." He leaves out 'I will always have your back' as Buck is already putting himself on a ledge, and Kelly doesn't want to freak him out. This isn't a date and Kelly's feelings are mute. This is for Buck.

Buck, his head bobbing, releases his vice grip on Kelly and takes a big step backward. "So, hey! Why don't we get some food?" He shouts unnecessary loud, as his hands fly to his stomach and rubs in a circular motion.

Kelly obviously clocks Buck's attempt to change the subject, his heart practically jumping out of his chest, but he doesn't call the ex-floater on it. "Sure, what are you thinking? Chicago has endless choices. You can basically sample the world here: German, Italian, Mexican, Greek, Colombian…. all kinds of food. What are you thinking?"

*O*O*

Initially, Kelly listed the many food joints in Chicago, starting with all of his favorite, but after throwing out ten places, he promptly shut his mouth and made the executive decision. Sure, they ordered pizza at the fire house multiple times, but why not start with Chicago famous deep-dish pizza with the sauce on top? This is the good stuff, the stuff that will put 30 pounds in all the wrong places if Kelly lets it. Kelly doesn't watch his weight like some people, being on Squad 3 a workout on its own, but he does like to eat healthy and workout.

Settled in the back corner booth of the packed restaurant, Kelly is staring at Buck, who is mouthwatering at the two deep dish pizzas. (Yes, they need two. Don't judge them. They are hungry men.) "Hungry?"

Buck's ravenous eyes flicker up as his cheeks blossom. "I…Um…" He exhales deeply. "Yes, been starving all day."

"Wait? What? You should've told me." Kelly chastises softly, though it's more aimed at himself for not noticing.

"Um…" Buck shrugs lightly and dejectedly. He shakes his head, a war going on behind his eyes. "It's no biggie." After another long pause, a smile cracks across his face, this one dimmer than the previous ones, and yet, a brighter one takes its place instantly. "But this bad boy is all mine!" He reaches forward and pulls one of the pies toward him. "Mine." He says over joyously under his breath. Changing yet again, his grin is devilish.

Buck doesn't waste any time as he snatches up a piece of pizza—sauce going everywhere- and immediately stuffs the slice into his mouth. And by stuff, Kelly means stuff. If it wasn't so disgusting, it might've been adorable. "Buck… Evan," he calls out. "Babe, you're going to choke." His gaze falls to the sauce and grease dropping down from Buck's mouth. The nickname that falls out of Kelly's mouth goes unnoticed by him.

Freezing mid bite, Buck glances up, his blue eyes swirling. His mouth opens to speak, but he slams it close and swallows the chewed slice of pizza in his mouth. Almost immediately after, he reaches for his beer and takes a few big sips. He tsks when his mouth is empty. "See good." His heated gaze is still on Kelly.

"You inhaled that, and that's just sacrilegious. You aren't even tasting it." Kelly shots back as he reaches for the other pie. Like he is demonstrating tech, he takes slice and holds it out for a second before he brings it to his lips and takes a single bite. Meeting Buck's gaze, he lets out an over-the-top moan as he chews and swallows. "HMMMM," he hums, taking another bite. He does this with every bite, his stare not dropping, and when he finishes with this slice, he daps his lips with a napkin. "See that's how you eat these babies." He reaches for his beer.

Buck's eyes are in fine points before he reaches for another slice. "Okay, okay." He accedes as he waves it briefly at Kelly. He ostentatiously and flamboyantly brings the slice to his lips and takes a single bite. He passes the bite from left to right, taking his sweet time, before he swallows it. He waits a second before he takes another bite, repeating what Kelly did. "Okay, I get it." He scrunches up his face. "The sauce on top."

Kelly beams. "And it is less disgusting."

"Hey!"

"It's the truth." Buck overdramatically rolls his eyes. Snickering, Kelly let his gaze fall. "We wouldn't want to annoy the next waitress."

"Wait, the next?" Buck asks, his eyebrow in his hairline.

Okay, it's presumptuous of Kelly to assume there will be a next, but he doesn't care. Date or not, he enjoys spending time with Buck. Enjoys getting a peek into his brain, and he will aways be up to spending more time with him. "Yes. Next time. There's so much more of Chicago to see…" he hesitates. "…If you are up to it."

"I…um… Yea… Yes!" Buck's cherry cheeks are back, his eyes catching a few wondering stares. "I would love to."

Kelly will never admit how giddy he was planning and coming up with ideas. sh*t, his list was—still is long, and he had divided them into days before he realized what he was doing. "Good, because there's so much more to do. We can go to a football or a baseball game, though the latter due to the time of the year. The Field Museum—our history museum-, Shedd Aquarium, the Lincoln Park Zoo. I know not everyone enjoys those things, but hey, aren't lions cool?" Yes, Kelly knows he's rambling, but sh*t, his heart is bellowing in his ear. "Also, so much more food to try. You hadn't lived until you try a Jibarito or a Chicago-style hot dog. The Tacos at Las Carnitas Uruapan are to—"

The words die on Kelly's tongue, and his entire brain halts at the sunken expression on Buck's face. What the hell did he just say? "Hey," he speaks softly, his face masked in concern. "Is everything okay? Did I say something?"

"N-No." Buck shutters, as he pushes the half-eaten pizza away, his hand shaking. "It's nothing." He forces out when he notices his trembling hand. It isn't extreme, but it's enough to transfer to the plate, which ratters. "I'm fine. It's fine."

Yea no, Buck is definitely not fine, which Kelly will not stand for. "Evan," Kelly calls, reaching a hand forward and placing a gentle hand on Buck's. Buck tries to tung his hand away, but Kelly doesn't budge, keeping a firm hand on his. "Hey. No. Talk to me. What's up?"

A pained, thick silence falls, Buck eyes flickering everywhere except Kelly's face. His mouth opens and shuts a few times before he bites down on his bottom lip, the shivering in his hand worsening. After a few minutes passes—his corner of his lips twitching-, he glances up, and with a look that screams 'f*ck it', he says, "M-my…" He shakes his head before meeting Kelly's gentle, warm stare with a very weak and melancholy smile. "The Z-zoo is what I u-used to do with my f-former buddy's kid. It was our t-thing, and I really missed it… Him. I miss him."

It's a magnitude of things: Buck's expression, his body language, the shiver in his hand, his tones, etc, but it's the complete change in his aura that gets Kelly. That carefree Buck that Kelly saw today is gone. "Tell me about this kid." Kelly probes softly. This isn't the first time Buck mentioned his former friend, though shutting down completely the times he did. While Kelly worries that this may cause Buck to shut down again, he hopes their new friendship will give Buck the comfort to speak. "What's his name?"

At first Kelly believes history will repeat when he's hit by a cold silence, but the ex-floater spurts out, "Christopher," a few seconds later. His frown morphs into a fond smile. "His name is Christopher. He's one of my best buddies."

"How old is he?" Unconsciously, Kelly's thump begins to swirl, caressing Buck's hand fondly.

"Nine. The coolest 9-year-old ever."

"I think Herrmann will fight you on that…." Kelly pauses, his head bobbing back and forth. "Okay…sometimes. Sometimes he wants to give them away." He chuckles. "Anyhow, I don't think you can make that statement. Have you met every nine-year-old on this planet?" he finally removes his hand from Buck's and shakes his index finger at him in a 'for shame' motion.

Buck snorts. "You say that because you hadn't met Christopher." While he's grinning, his tone is protective.

Playfully, Kelly throws up his both hands in a mock surrender. "Okay, then. Tell me."

"Christopher has to be one of the brightest and happiest kids I have ever met, letting nothing get him down. I mean nothing, and it's contagious." A fond memory passes across his face, his eyes going glassy for a moment. "He'll tell jokes until you're blue in the face. Even the flat ones are hilarious, but it's all his performance." Buck's smile is so big and loopy that it hurts Kelly's jaw. "I swear you can't leave without a jaw hurting grin on your face. God, he's so funny."

"I bet." Kelly doesn't have kids of his own, but he can't deny the tug in his heart whenever he spends any time with the 51's kids. He lost count to how many times Hermann's kids have brought him to tears, his heart fluttering in the process. "Sounds like a fun kid."

Buck's head continually nods. "He is. He loves learning. Never turning down the Zoo, the history or science museum. And video games were our jam." His voice drops on the word 'were.'

Kelly understands how distance can kill relationships, especially with kids who don't understand, but he knows enough to know this goes deeper. "It still can. Why don't you reach out to him?"

"I-I can't." He shutters.

"Why?" It's simple and non-judgmental.

"I just can't. Not to any of them."

Any of them? What is Buck running from? "Evan." Silence. "Who can't you talk to?"

Buck sits back in the booth, his hands disappearing under the table. "My sister… my old firehouse."

"Your sister? You have a sister?" Buck nods. "Surely, you can't mean that. No doubt she would love for you to reach out." He can't comprehend not being able to call Katie whenever he wants to chat or when he has an issue. Sure, he's aware that not every sibling relationship is good, but most don't have the love for their siblings that Kelly sees in Buck.

"I can't."

His grief in Buck's tone just breaks Kelly's heart. It takes everything in Kelly not to reach across the table and pull the young man into a hug. "So, hey, you want to get out of here and go for a walk?" Kelly asks instead of pushing harder. Sure, they already spent the morning walking, but Kelly is hoping a change of scenery will help.

*O*O*

Kelly takes them to Promontory Point, which is a breathtaking place along the lake, and for a while they walk the pathway, the cool air from the lake striking them. For a moment with the waves roaring beside them, Buck forgets he left LA and is walking along the cold beach with his friends and family. That is until he looks over and sees Kelly smiling at him with the warmest smile that he has ever seen, which causes his heart to flutter. Buck will never regret spending the day with Kelly, one of the few days that he truly felt like himself. He won't trade it for anything, but bringing up Christopher brough up old feelings, which hit him like a train. "Sorry for being a downer." He says, as he stares up into the night sky.

"Don't be sorry." Comes Kelly's strong voice.

Buck goes lightheaded. Throughout the entire day—yes, the entire day-, Buck wanted to close the distance between them, grasp Kelly's hand and pull him close, but he shoves those thoughts aside and the words 'This is not a date' echo loudly in his head. God, every touch from Kelly throughout the day sent a shockwave through his body and Buck almost jump into Kelly's arms each time. His knees almost buckled with every smile and sweet word. He can't get Kelly's 'That's adorable.' out of his head. "Here you're being nice, and I ruined our d-"

"Stop."

Buck freezes, his words died on his tongue, as he looks over to Kelly only to be met with a determined yet tender look. "I…I…" He's melting under the intense gaze.

Whatever Kelly is looking for, he mustn't have seen it as he moves suddenly into Buck's space. "f*ck it." He curses.

Before Buck realizes what Kelly's doing, he is entrapped between Kelly's chest and arms. The coolness of the lake can't compete with the heat radiating off Kelly. "Kel," he utters, realizing how close he's to the older man's face. While he has a few inches over the lieutenant in height, their lips are mere two inches part. "W-What are you d-doing?"

"It's a hug, Evan."

Buck has said it many times that he isn't the biggest fan of his name, but it does something to him to hear Evan or Ev roll off Kelly's tongue. "A hug."

"Yes."

A hug. Has it been that long that he has forgotten what they felt like? How can he forget what a hug is? God, he missed them. "A hug," he expresses, mostly to himself before he folds up against Kelly. He hooks his arms under Kelly's armpits and pulls him close and tight, and though it isn't the most comfortable, he rests his head on Kelly's shoulder. A metal facet of Kelly's leather jacket bites into his forehead, but he doesn't move and relaxes every muscle.

"I got you." Kelly says, sweetly, as one of his hands starts to rub a cycle into Buck's lower back. "I got you, Ev."

Just like that, Buck's knees buckle, and he lets it all out. Tears flow before Buck realizes it, a shudder running through his entire body. He may be a hot mess, who can barely keep upright, but it's like the weight on his shoulders is vanishing. He feels wanted and- oddly—safe in Kelly's arms. He's worth something in Kelly's arms even if they are just friends.

"It's okay. Let it out."

Which is what Buck does. He lets out every wet sob he has been holding back, and it isn't pretty, him a blubbering mess, but he can't find it in him to care. He has been holding in it for so long that he is just so tired and beaten. It's so refreshing to have someone there, so he reminds there in Kelly's arms, basking in the warmth and safety. Buck doesn't stir until his heart feels light and his soul is warm. It feels like hours have passed, but he doesn't know how much until he lifts his head up and resists the urge to wink. His tears are acting like glue, and he has to peel himself off.

While Kelly's left hand goes to Buck's hip, his right travels up Buck's side to the base of his neck, his thumb settling on the edge of his jawline. "You okay?" he asks, meeting Buck's glossy, red eyes.

Buck shaky inhales before he lets out a quivering breath, but he does not break away from the stare. "Yes." The intimacy of this is not lost on him, but no one comments on it. The chants of 'This is not a date' are meaningless here.

"You… want to talk about?"

That's a load question if there ever is one. While a part of him is terrified, Buck wants to tell Kelly, who doesn't know what he is truly asking. He has said this time and time again, but he does genuinely want to move on with his life and get over the past. There is no deleting the past, and the lawsuit will always be there, but he no longer wants to be haunted by it. He wants a future with… Kelly. sh*t, what? No!... Maybe…what? Buck takes a deep breath. You can't lie to him then. That treacherous voice in his head reasons. "Yea, just don't know if I can." He laments.

Kelly's thumb begins to swirl on Buck's chin. "Hey. If you are worried about judgement, you won't find it here."

It isn't the first time Buck has heard this from Kelly, but anyone can say that. Anyone. The 118… It doesn't mean it's true. And yet, as Buck leans into Kelly's touch, he wants to believe him. Captain Casey didn't judge. His voice of reason shots out. "I…"

"I can't judge you, Evan."

With a deep breath, both of Kelly's hands drop to the side and he takes one big step backward. The loss of heat is immediate and snaps Buck's out of his thoughts. Wait come back! "What?"

"About eight years ago, I hurt myself real bad in a fire." Kelly's voice dips, signaling there's more to the story. "And by bad, I mean it was bad."

"I don-"

Kelly raises his hand to stop him. "Just listen." Buck nods, his face still red from the tears. "I basically broke my neck, fractured vertebra. I was lucky that I was even walking. The only clue I had was the excruciating pain radiating from my shoulder. I was told it required surgery, but I refused. At first, I was in denial, thinking it would get better. Everything gets better in time, right?" He let out a bitter chuckle. "So, I started popping pain pills to mask the pain. It worked until it didn't, and eventually the pain couldn't be ignored. With pressure from my friends, I finally made an appointment with a doctor, who told me that I needed an operation and won't be able to work for a year. A full year if not longer." He lets out a pained groan. "I protested so strongly at the idea. I'm a firefighter, Evan. A firefighter. I couldn't be out for a year. I just couldn't. Even now, I buck at the idea. I don't know where I would be without this job. I am this job."

The pain in Kelly's voice is so striking that Buck is left breathless, and yet, it feels almost… refreshing and familiar? Buck takes a deep, shaky breath.

"So instead, I was an idiot." He huffs, the memory clearly painful for him. "I relied on painkillers and when the over-the-counter ones weren't enough, I asked S-Shay, one of our paramedics and my best friend/roommate, for stronger ones. Stronger ones from the ambulance." His eyes flicker away for a moment before they zip back to Buck, who can see the pain and shame in his eyes. "A-at the time, I didn't care that I put her career in jeopardy because I only cared about me. She was my best friend, but I was too damn stupid and selfish to see how much I was hurting her." A tremor runs through him. "When she finally put her foot down, I took my miss placed anger on her. Wasn't my best moment. It put a massive strain between us. It's one of the things I regret the most." Kelly gives him a weak smile.

"Yet did that stop me? No. At that point, I was an addict and had to do whatever it took to get the pain to stop. I didn't realize then but do now is that I was chasing the feeling the pills gave me." Kelly's gaze drops to his feet. "I-I, then, tracked down a former fling, who happened to be a pharmaceutical rep. After a few rounds of sex, she provided me with some illegal drugs, only legal with a prescription. I lied to Shay," his voice cracking over the name, "and told her I saw the doctor. Lied to everyone. I thought I would get away with it until one call, which resulted in Boden requiring a station wide drug test, a drug test I tried to get out of. I eventually came clean to Shay, begging for her help. The l-look of disappointment in her eyes killed me—still does, and I-I thought she had written me off when she walked away. However, she came through for me by providing a false sample for testing."

Kelly's eyes scan Buck's face, searching for something. "I thought I was getting my friend back, my best friend; however, it just pushed her further. She moved out and refused to talk to me afterward. The loss of our friendship, among other things, was the kick that I needed. I came clean with Boden, who wasn't pleased and promptly put me on a medical leave. I can't blame him. He could've done so much worse. He could've fired me. Maybe, he should have. Every day I was high on drugs, I put lives in danger. I should've lost my job, but Boden, Casey… Everyone was there for me when I finally decided to get the surgery, even though it was an experimental alternative. Because 51 is a family. I made it back to the job in record time with their support." He exhales deeply, fear passing across his face. "I hope that doesn't change your opinion on me. The 'famous,'" He puts air quotes around the word. "Kelly Severide is a former addict."

Buck's mind is spinning. That was the last thing he expected to hear from Kelly, but no, it doesn't change his mind on Kelly. In fact, it makes Kelly more human to him, makes him a better friend. A better person. It makes prefect. "It doesn't." he states, honestly.

"Good, I am glad." Kelly smiles. "So please know when I say I won't judge you, it's the honest truth. You can talk to me." He takes a step back to Buck and reaches out a hand. "There's nothing you can say that will scare me off."

It finally dawns on Buck when Casey told him: 'he might understand more than most,' he meant it "Okay." With a deep breath, Buck takes Kelly's hand and begins telling the lieutenant about the lawsuit and the aftermath.

Chapter 16: Bare it all

Chapter Text

Chapter 16:

Bare it all

Los Angeles

"Chimney thinks he knows where Evan is." Maddie shots out after five minutes of silence, the hair on her arms standing up. She arrived at Athena's house ten minutes ago, unable to stand the quiet of her small apartment and the loudness of her own mind. With Buck frowning face staring back at her, her once safe places feels like a prison.

Athena's right eyebrow raises up to hairline. "Oh, really?" She munches on that thought before adding, "Where does he think Buck wandered off to?" No matter the time or day, the Sergeant always welcomes the 911 operator into her home with a smile on her face and a warm embrace. Her friendship is irreplaceable and vital to Maddie's sanity, and she doesn't know where she would be without it.

"Chicago."

"Chicago?" Athena utters from her kitchen. Her head popping up, she peeks over her shoulder at Maddie, who is sitting stiffly at the dinner room table. Her eyes are on the quiet backyard, while her back is to Athena. The cop only allows herself to stew on that for a second before she refocuses her attention on the teapot whistling on the stove.

Maddie mindlessly nods, as she thinks back to the many conversations Howard and her had on the subject, which never ends well. "That's where the last postcard I got from Evan came from." She states, dejectedly. It's heartbreaking to think about. As weeks went by, she checked continuously for postcards that she knew wouldn't come and deflated seconds later even though she knew there wouldn't be. She does regret how moody she got afterward, which Howard took like a champ. She lost count of how many times she cried. Lost count of how many times she read through the old postcards. Lost count of how many times she reached for her phone to call Buck only to remember his number is no longer in service (the first time she got the 'this number is no longer in service' was a jab to the throat). Those first few weeks after the postcards stopped were bad.

Reaching up into her cabinet for the teabags, Athena's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything. Did Buck send you a postcard from every place he visited?"

While her chest tightens thinking about this radio silence, Buck has done this before. There was a time a few years prior to his time Peru that she hadn't heard from him at all (her fearing he was dead), and to this day, Maddie still doesn't know where he was during those years besides Buck's failed Seal tryout. He always shrugged it off, giving a nonsensible response. Knowing how Buck bounced around, Maddie accepted it. Now, she wishes she pushed more as it seems like he is doing it again.

Maddie takes a shaky breath before she goes, "No. Plus, he's done with route 66." It didn't go unnoticed to her or Athena from where the postcards were coming. He is—or was—driving the famous Route 66. She originally had an impulsive idea to fly to a random place on the route and wait for him, but she was quickly talked out of that. "But that isn't the only reason he thinks Evan is in Chicago." Athena, an empty cup in hand, straightens up and turns ever so slightly, her eyes narrowed. "When the District chief was at the station, he got a call from the Chicago Fire Department."

"So?" The cop draws out as she pours the hot water into the cup. "Did he happen to hear what was on this phone call?" She tsks as she sets the teapot back down and dips the teabags in. "Because that could be about anyone or anything. I'm sure fire departments from across the country, especially as ones as large as the LAFD and CFD, communicate."

"He did not. He's… He's just…" Maddie exhales deeply. "Spinning gears," she spits out as she points to her head. "It just…"

Athena hums in agreement, her eyes on her hands as she swirls the teabags. She allows a few seconds to pass before she crosses back to the table, concern laced through her entire face. "You okay?" She asks, as she sets down one of the warm teacups in front of Maddie.

Maddie gives her a small smile and a meek "Thank you," as she accepts the hot drink. Staring down into the Ginger Tea, she spaces, her eyes glossing over.

"Maddie, how are you?"

These last five—almost six—months has been stressful, and Maddie's pregnancy has been anything but smooth, though that's for a few different reasons: Buck missing, her complicated relationship with Howard, rounds of never-ending morning sickness, etc. And she has no doubt that her pregnancy hormones are kicking her entire body out of whack, causing part of her to ache in places that she doesn't know is possible.

The sounds of a chair scraping from across the table caused by Athena sitting snaps Maddie from her thoughts. "Buckette?" she pokes softly, as she carefully places her hand next to Maddie's though not touching.

The oh too familiar nickname makes the soon to be new mother smile. For a month or so after Buck left, Maddie, though she knew it was unfair, harshly judged Athena as if it was her fault. With the help of her therapist, she has been able to work through her initial anger, though she can't rid herself of the bitterness that courses through her veins toward everyone else. "I'm fine." No, she is definitely not fine.

Athena lets out a small huff. "You don't have to sugarcoat it with me, Maddie."

"I know." Maddie replies, as she rubs a protective circle onto her stomach. Since learning she was pregnant, she has been touching her stomach nonstop. Half of the time, she doesn't notice she's doing it, only feeling comfort when she does.

"How are you and Chimney?"

Maddie's heart jumps. That's a complicated question, a question that Maddie can't begin to answer. At first, she told Chimney she didn't want to speak to him until she heard from Evan, which she meant. Evan is her brother; however, after the postcards and learning that she was pregnant, that changed. It had to. While nothing will compare to hearing Evan's voice, those postcards lifted her spirit, and she could breathe. It gave her the strength to reach out to Howard after getting those positive pregnant tests (Yes, she needed a few) to let him know about the baby. After getting over his initial excitement, a string of sentences flew out of his mouth. Mix in were messy, heartfelt apologies, which she added to the never-ending list of apologies he hurls at her. Honestly, she has lost count and is sick of them.

"It's complicated." And that is the honest truth. Maddie doesn't know what to do with their relationship. On one hand, she wants to make it work, especially considering how safe and loved Howard makes her feel. The part of her that Doug smashed and ripped to pieces blossomed under Howard's love and she doesn't want to lose that… She can't. She doesn't know who she would be without it. But on the other hand, she doesn't know how to get over the fact that Howard stood by and let Buck be isolated and tortured by the entire 118.

Athena tilts her head to the side, her eyes drilling a hole into the side of Maddie's face. "How is therapy going?"

Maddie scowls. Having been to therapy before, she knows the drill. Therapy is meant to rip you down so you can put yourself back together with insights you didn't have prior, but between individual and couple therapy, she is raw. Yes, it is vital but draining. "It's going."

"Maddie."

"It's going." She repeats through her teeth, as her eyes dash to the kids in front of the television, which is just a tad too loud, the sounds of animated car crashing echoing throughout the house. Harry, Danny, and Christopher are playing video games. Well, more so, Harry and Danny are. Christopher's eyes are glued to his tablet, which breaks Maddie's heart. Just like with her, he's watching his device like a hawk, waiting for any kind of response from Buck. She, which she does often, wants to take the boy into her arms and hug him until he tells her to stop. She wishes she could do something more for Christopher, but all she can do is let him know that she's here for him.

Shifting in her chair, Athena watches Maddie fiddle with her cup of tea, the liquid whooshing under the consistent movement. "That can mean a lot of things." She prods.

Maddie let out a long groan. "I just wish Howard would stop apologizing." Her eyes drop to her cup. "I know he's trying and that every apology is sincere, but…" She bits down on her lip. What are apologies good for? Nothing. They don't change the past. They can't erase the pain, or the destruction left behind. On the verge of tears, she chokes down the sob working its way up her dry throat.

"But it doesn't bring Buck back." Athena finishes.

Letting out a gasp, Maddie, a protective hand on her bump, shakes her head no. She takes a few shaky breathes before she goes, "In one of our therapy sessions, I snapped on him after he apologized for the third time, demanding him to stop." A tremor ran through her entire body, the teacup shuddering in her hand. Her eyes drop to the hot liquid, her having no interest in drinking it anymore. "I felt so guilty afterward because he's trying… I just can't…" The words get tangled on her tongue.

Athena gives Maddie a soft, fond look. "You can be honest with me. Do you want to fix things?"

Maddie, woefully, starts to imagine her future daughter, a smile on her face as she looks up at both of her parents. In every future she sees, both Howie and her are there, together. The new mother refuses to envision anything but the best for her daughter, which starts with being the opposite of her parents are. The first thing on the top of that list is loving parents who got along. "I want the best for my daughter."

"That doesn't mean you Chimney have to be together." Athena offers.

Her therapist had told her this a few times, but it stings to hear it from Athena. It literally feels like someone has punched her, which takes her by a complete surprise. Just when she thinks she wants to walk away, she can't. "…I-I know." She shutters. "H-How are you and Bobby doing?"

Athena's eyes zip to Harry, her gaze zooming in on his determined yet grinning expression. A million emotions are running through her eyes. "We're better but are nowhere where we used to be, and at times, I find my patience for that man is thin." Her gaze pops back to Maddie, tad bit of fondness laced in. "He's still sleeping in the spare bedroom."

"How are you getting passing E-Evan…" His name is itchy on her tongue and kills her train of thought, and her heart drops to her stomach. Even though she still loves Chimney, she can't get over that fact. Howard may be smiling at her, but at times, she only sees a frowning, depressed Buck. As the Buckley parents pretty much ignored Evan's existence—raw from Daniel's passing-, Evan and she bonded in ways that she can't describe. Evan will forever be her baby brother, and she will be extremely protective of him for the rest of his life.

"I am not."

"What?... I-I don't understand."

"It's a work in progress, and that's okay. It isn't a race."

That's another thing her therapist tells her, and while it's meant to calm her nerves and apprehension, it does the opposite. She feels even more like a failure, her doing therapy wrong. Maddie knows it doesn't work like this, but still. Why can't she like other people? Why is it take her so long? Why couldn't she see it? "I know."

Athena sits back in her chair, a conflicted expression glued to her face. "Don't take this the wrong way, because I love that boy and I'll always be there if he needs me. No matter what. However, he's a grown man, and we need to trust that he can take care of himself, while we take care of ourselves. You have to take care of yourself, Maddie. You can't set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm, especially someone who isn't here. You got a new priority now." Her eyes drop to part of the table that hides Maddie's baby bump. "Focus on her! Focus on things you can do."

She's right, and Maddie knows that, but she can't help the bitterness that boils up. "I—" She bits down her lip and pushes back her frustration. Her heart pounding, she glances back to Christopher, his pain nibbling at her. "You're right."

"I know I am." Athena smiles, though her grin doesn't reach face. "And I got you, Buckette."

Once more, Athena reaches her hand out, though Maddie grasps it this time. "Thank you." Maddie says as she squeezes.

"No thanks needed. We're family."

While the 118 family is a shall of its former self, Maddie would be lost without Athena, Karen, and Carla. These women are a godsent. "Why don't we go check on those kids? Be good practice?"

Athena rolls her eyes and laughs. "Sure, but if your little girl is playing video games right out of the womb, you can't blame me."

"If that happen, I'll be scared." Feeling mentally better, Maddie slowly pushes herself up using the table for support, her arms quivering. Once up right, it takes her a few seconds to adjust, as her legs wobble beneath her. Oh, the joy of being pregnant. "I'm good." She smiles as she heads toward the boys with Athena tailing behind her. She unintentionally abandons her phone on the table, her eyes solely on Christopher, and because of this, she misses an email notification flashing on her phone.

An email from an account she has been emailing off and on for months without a response. An email from Buck.

*O*O*

Chicago

Before Buck can start his tale, Kelly, hand on his shoulder, directs Buck to the Promontory Point's limestone steps, which leads down to the chilly lake, and sits one step up from the water. "Here's fine." With the cold air rolling off the water, the Lieutenant sits next to Buck. Warmly smiling, he doesn't push and lets Buck get it out in his own time, despite his own nerves. "Take it slow, Ev." He places a gentle hand on Buck's knee and squeezes.

Buck exhales unevenly, his eyes on Kelly's hand on his knee. "It…ah..."

"Take a deep." Kelly attempts to demonstrate this action by taking a deep breath himself. He does it a few times, which Buck erratically copies. "Good?"

"Yes." Buck faintly smiles as he places his left hand on top of Kelly's, an instant heat flooding them. The cold night air cannot compete. For a few minutes, they bask in this heat, holding the other's intense stare, before Buck suddenly looks away. "So, long story short, this happened when my f-former Captain was suspended—a story for another time- and was off shift."

Kelly bites down on the side of his cheek to prevent himself from asking 'what happened.' Buck has to get this out on his own and at his own speed. Buck takes another shaky breath before he continues, "Years ago, Bobby, my old Captain, helped to put an arsonist, who set his restaurant on fire for the insurance money, behind bars. After he died in jail, his son wanted revenge against him, blaming Bobby for his father's death." His leg vibrates beneath Kelly's firm grip. "He made several threats, but no one thought to check the fire trucks as Bobby was his target, not us. Tragically, that's where the son put a bomb."

sh*t. A chilling, nightmarish memory works its way forward: a horrific bombing of a fire engine in LA that made national news. "And it exploded." he states slowly. "I know—"

Buck's breathing wavers, his eyes squeezing shut. He painfully forces himself to take a deep breath before he nonchalantly cuts Kelly off, "So, you've seen the video." He sounds deflated.

The pain in Buck's voice breaks Kelly into a million pieces. "Yes." He breathes out, as he shifts closer, their legs now touching. The gruesome video is so striking that Kelly can still visualize it and remember exactly where he was when it flashed across the TV screen. He and the rest of 51, dead on their feet, were about to turn in for the night when they all froze on the spot at the ghastly sight. While they may not know any of the firefighters injured in the attack, they could not look away from their fellow firefighters who were being held hostage by a mad man with a bomb.

"I-I was on that truck." Buck puffs out, the jitters in his knee getting worse. His eyes flicker to Kelly before dropping back to their hands. "I don't remember much after i-it exploded." His voice shakes. "I…just…" A large shiver runs through his body, his chest pulsing. "Only r-remember the p-pain. Only remember c-crying out for help, but there was no help."

Kelly chokes on his threat, as he racks his brain—that memory—in an attempt to recall faces. At the time, the faces were pointless, unimportant, as he just took in the awful scene. A small headache forming, he can't recall any facial features besides the bomber, only remembering the firefighters hurled to the ground and the one pinned beneath the truck. However, the memory does take on a new meaning after learning that Buck is one of those firefighters, and suddenly, there's this unbridled anger in his gut which he keeps to himself. Buck doesn't need this intense rage. "Ev-"

"I was the firefighter whose leg was pinned beneath the truck."

The world just stops, and it takes Kelly a moment to boot back up, not that it rights his world. Nothing can right him. What can he say? What does Buck want/need to hear? Instead, he lifts his hand up slight, dislodging Buck's hand for a moment, before he flips his palm up and grasps Buck's hand.

Buck, not pulling away, clutches Kelly's hand tightly, pain shooting up the lieutenant's arm, and a few deep breaths later, he begins his story. He talks about the shooting pain and the paralyzing fear that rocked him from beneath the engine as he cried out for help. He talks about his recovery and how alone he felt, his friends and family not understanding how much firefighting means to him. He mentions arguing with his sister about a risky surgency he needed (even if she disagreed), one that could greatly impact his life if it went wrong. His wet eyes glaze over a moment as he speaks Maddie's name, the love clear as day between.

With a weak smile, Buck talks about how hard he worked to get his job back. About how he regained his LAFD certification five months after his accident, breaking records while doing so. After pausing to take a deep breath, he tells him about the pulmonary embolism, which would've killed him if it he hasn't been surrounded by first responders. He tells him how he lost his way afterward, feeling like an outcast, as no one was listening to him.

Buck pauses again, his grasp on Kelly's hand unrelenting. For a while, his breathing is heavy and rapid before he forces himself to inhale through his nose and exhale via his mouth. He does this a few times before he continues. He mentions how Bobby tells him he was not fit for duty and how devastated he was. He mentions how he refused to get out of bed for days, and it took Eddie—he fumbles over the name—literally dragging him out of bed to watch his Kid, Christopher (the famous Christopher). The way Buck skips over the next part, which tells Kelly that he's missing something, but it sounds like the kid was the kick that Buck needed.

Kelly is surprised when Buck mentions that his time as a fire marshal, waiting for the time that he was off the blood thinners. He tells Kelly that while he did feel better with the job, there was something missing, and that feeling got worse when he saw how happy his team was without him. Kelly has to bite his tongue to stop himself from interrupting, as he highly doubts that was the case, even if he understands why the Ex-Floater felt like that. Instead, he listens as Buck explains how an ambulance chaser, who he met on the job, put dangerous thoughts in his weak mind, though he fully admits it is on him for listening.

The sound of waves provides a momentary distraction, the moon casting a favorable light on Buck's face. The tears forming in his eyes sparkle under the dim light. While Buck is holding onto Kelly for dear life, his hand quivers in the older man's hand, which draws the man closer to Buck. They're now shoulder to shoulder, as Kelly sends him peaceful thoughts though the contact. It takes a few silence minutes before Buck continues his story.

Exhaling, Buck explains how Bobby, his Captain, made it seem like it was the higher-ups in the department that kept him back, when it was him. He talks about how he felt utterly betrayed by the man who was a father figure to him and how that sent him running to the lawyer. From there, he explains how he sued the department and won by bringing up the other firefighters in the station who returned to active duty in less time. Kelly has to admit that he is absolutely stunned by the lack of consistency. A rebar through the head and the firefighter is back on duty in no time?

"I didn't want the money," Buck offers out, eyeing Kelly from the corner of his eyes. He looks like a scared child preparing for a lashing. "I turned down the money for my position back. All seven digits."

Wait… what? "Wait? Did I hear that correctly? Did you say seven digits?"

"Yes, I was offered millions in the lawsuit."

Kelly's brain bluescreens for a second time, unable to wrap his mind around this. How does someone get millions for a wrongful termination case? But does that matter, Severide? His mind counters. The fact remains that Evan rejected millions to be a Firefighter tells Kelly everything he needs to know about the man. For putting their life on the line every shift, firefighters don't get paid much, many needing second jobs. And Buck turned millions for that? God, Kelly just loves this man a bit more. "Did your old team know how much money you turned down?"

Buck shakes his head. "No. I didn't think it was important."

"Evan, you turned down millions. That's everything." He counters. "Not many people would do that, and to get that much, means you had a case."

"I guess."

You guess? What the f*ck? Kelly doesn't know what to make of all of it, still processing everything, but he can't and won't fault the man for doing everything that he could to get his job back, especially after hearing how he turned down a sh*t ton of money. For him to act like this—so indifferently-, he must've gone through hell. "I…" he breathes through his nose, exhaling out his anger. "Did they put you back in your old house?" With your old Captain and team?

"Yes."

Kelly blinks. "What?" He isn't a white shirt, but there's no way in hell that he would've placed Buck back in the same house, well unless he was damn sure Buck wouldn't have been harassed. Regardless of intentions, this could've (Considering Buck is here, did) gone wrong for everyone, all those emotions under one roof.

"My former Captain wanted to keep me under his watchful eyes, under his rules."

Judging by the sad tones in Buck's voice, those watchful eyes were anything but friendly or helpful. Kelly despises the idea of someone mistreating Buck, but he gets it. Firehouses are families, and lawsuits will always rip families apart, which is why Buck should've been placed in a different house. Or rather, they needed a Chief Boden. He thinks to himself, as Boden would've snuffed any mistreatment with an iron fist. "Evan, what happened?" Buck tries to pull his hands out Kelly's, though Kelly's grip doesn't loosen. Instead, he pulls Buck's hand into his lap and puts his free hand on Buck's wrist. "It's okay."

Buck angles himself toward Kelly, his eyes not quite reaching Kelly's face. "I…" He takes a shaky breath. "As you can imagine, my coworkers weren't pleased, feeling betrayed, and honestly, I don't blame them. I deserved it."

"Hey, no." Kelly protests, strongly. "Don't go there." The lieutenant can say the same thing about himself after Casey and Boden learned about his drug addiction. They should've fired him, and if they did, Kelly wouldn't have blamed them. "How they treat you is on them, not you."

"I…" Buck huffs. "I know…" A pause. "I know. It's j-just hard."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

"T-Thanks." Is Buck's shaky response. A few long-hushed minutes pass as he attempts to douse the shivers running the full length of his body. The slapping of the waves drowns out Buck's strained heaves.

With his hand still grasping Buck's, Kelly, in silence, just sits next to him and eyes the conflicted frown on the younger Firefighter's face. He looks both heartbroken and ashamed, which Kelly understands. While Buck hasn't said much about his life prior to the lawsuit, he can piece it together. Firehouses are families, and though the lawsuit corrupted it, there is still that connection, that loyalty, that love. That's why this is so hard to admit what happened, to acknowledge what painful things his family did.

Finally, Buck puffs before he turns back to Kelly, a sad smile gracing his face. "It's hard to talk about." While his voice and tones are smooth, his pain is laced throughout his body.

Kelly wants to say he gets it, but he doesn't. While there are moments in his career when he butted heads with his fellow firefighters, he has no idea what it feels like to have his entire house turn on him. "It's okay, Evan."

Unconsciously or consciously, Buck leans against Kelly, putting some of his weight on him. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed." He replies, not minding the weight.

There's another puff of air before Evan goes, "I knew it wasn't going to be sunshine and rainbows when I returned to the firehouse… Okay, I didn't not know. I expected pushback, but not to the degree that I got it. I simply didn't expect them to be…" He takes a deep breath. "C-cruel."

Kelly switches hands, grasping Buck's hand with his left, and wraps his right arm around Buck. He's aware of how intimate this is, how close Buck is, but he doesn't care. "What did they do?"

"At first, they froze me out. Like…" Buck bites down on his lip. "Out of everything." He pauses, sitting up, though still holding onto Kelly. "I'm an overly friendly person, who will talk anyone's ears off if they let me, so it that hurt." Buck lets out a wet sigh. "I-It stung each time it went silent whenever I stepped near, with only the whispers of 'be careful what you say around Buckley as he'll tell his lawyer and sue you' filling the air." Buck huffs. "It became a running joke whenever. 'Oh, will Buckley sue us for this?' 'Oh, don't invite him. He'll use everything you say against you.'"

Yes, Kelly is self-aware enough to know that he would take it personally if someone he loved sued his fire station or him, even if the lawsuit wasn't frivolous. However, he doesn't see himself being angry for long, as Buck only wanted his job back, not money. Kelly understands how much firefighting means to Buck, and he'll never fault anyone for fighting for it. "That isn't a joke."

"No." Buck states drily. "But I rather have the jokes than being iced out." A heavy pause. "I was excluded from everything. I was no longer invited to team night outs. No longer invited to team Barbeques. Team anything. Heck, I wasn't even told when dinner was ready, not that there was ever a plate for me… Or food. Firehouse din—" He violently shakes his head as he holds back a sob. "Dinner used to be a special thing between my Captain and I, but it was yanked from me, and I was given a cold stare whenever I looked at the stove… Instead, I was criticized for everything."

"He taught you to cook." Kelly states, as he recalls an earlier conversation.

"Yes."

"And you never reported this?"

"No, I thought I could handle it until they forgive me… Because, they had to forget me, right? Right?"

The grief in Buck's voice is a bullet to the heart. "But they didn't?" Kelly might've been able to handle the silent treatment for a few weeks, but there's a way Buck could handle that for long. Even when he tried to hide it, Buck loves people, loves being around them. Loves being in conversations. Isolation would—is—a death sentence for him.

"No." Buck's words are barely above a whisper, as he fights to keep a straight face. "After a month, it got worse, as if they were upset their silence hadn't chased me off… But it couldn't then. I still saw them as my family, a family that I simply needed to win back."

Kelly can't help but wonder what or who in Evan's life made him so desperate for love and attention. This trauma goes much farther than his former firehouse being cruel. This is childhood trauma poking through, which Kelly knows all too well. Buck suddenly moves and excavates himself from Kelly's arms, and though the Lieutenant doesn't want to let him go, he allows Buck to pull away. "Ev." He says softly, his eyes with a soft plead.

Buck puts a solid foot between them and keeps his eyes trained on the lake as he gets to his feet. "I…um…" The hand Kelly once held flies to his chest as he takes a heavy, shaky breath, a sob threatening to explode from his lips. "E-Eddie…" He almost chokes on the name, which stops him in his tracks.

Each time Buck says that man's name, Kelly clocks the pain in Buck's voice, which sets his blood on fire. This was his best friend, right? "What did he do?" he asks, as he inches his hand toward the other man.

"He…um…" A large tremor runs through Buck's entire body. "It wouldn't have been too bad if B-Captain Nash let me out on calls." He grumbles, "Well, he, after two months, eventually did allow me on a few calls here and there, though I earned a lengthy criticism of everything I did wrong on said calls. Perceived or otherwise. Sometimes, I wished I would've stayed back, where I at least could've been freed from the judgmental eyes in the empty station."

They didn't let Buck go out on calls?! And when they did, they picked him apart? How humiliating and degrading that must've been. "What did you do when you stayed back?" he asks, attempting to keep his tone smooth.

Buck quickly peeps at Kelly before his eyes dash back to the water. "For the first few months back, I was… in charge of cleaning the entire fire house-"

"With help-"

"By myself. It was my only duty."

It hits Kelly like a freight train, and he straightens right up, his back painful stiff. Every night Buck that cleaned the firehouse flies pass his vision. "Evan." Kelly is extremely glad that he put a stop to Buck cleaning the firehouse.

Buck's entire body shudders. "I know."

"That isn't right."

A smiling frown, Buck adds, "But hey, at least at 51, no one spit on anything after I finished."

Kelly's jaw locks and his left fist—hidden from view—balls at his side. In order to keep his tone smooth and calm, opposite of how he's feeling, he takes a few deep breaths. "Did they do that a lot?"

"Every shift. Usually, 2 to 3 times every few hours. Mud on the floors. Kicked dirty water buckets over. Smeared oil on the trucks. You name it, they did it." Buck's hands flexed at his side. "At times, all I did was reclean things I had already cleaned."

It must've felt so dehumanizing, having not accomplished anything. "I doubt going to your Captain was an option."

Buck snorts. "I tried a few times, but he never let me get a word out. It was always a 'I don't care, Buckley. Get back to work, Buckley.'" His face crunches as he imitates a mock anger. "The one time that he did listen, it was, 'What do you expect? You sued the department, Buckley. You got to earn their trust.' Which is true I guess." He adds a mock 'ha.'

Kelly's right eye twitches. Casey would've had a field day with this, and no doubt the fearless Captain would've gone ape sh*t on that entire station. sh*t, Kelly would have as well. That isn't a leader. "That isn't right."

Once again, Buck is looking half his size. "But I did sue the department."

"None of that matter. He was your Captain. He was responsible for you. It was his duty to protect you, regardless of his or anyone's else feelings."

Buck gulps as he turns back to Kelly, shoving his hands into his pockets. He rocks on his feet for a second before he says, "I-I know that now, but at the time, I blamed myself."

Kelly scoots over a bit and leans forward lightly to get a better angle of Buck's baby blues. "Buck, you say that, but do you believe that? Because it isn't your fault." His legs tense up, as it is a battle to say seated.

Stepping back to Kelly, Buck meets Kelly's warm stare. "Y-yes."

"Good, because it isn't, and I will make sure you do."

"Okay." It's a meek 'okay'.

There's definitely more to this story. "What happened after a few months? And with Eddie?" he asks, softly.

Buck turns away, his hands shaking. "Eddie was my b-best friend. We balanced each other out, were each other shadow." A dark shadow passes over his eyes. "W-we were… always there for the other, but the lawsuit… A switch was hit, and our friendship soured… I get it. Because of the lawsuit, we couldn't talk… With everything that he was going through somethings, I could see why he saw it was abandonment, especially with Christopher. I...um…" Hunched over, he takes another step away from Kelly. "I get it. I hurt his son." He awkwardly pulls his hands from pocket and laces them together, cracking his knuckles. "He has every right to be mad at me."

Children always make a situations trick, and Kelly can't fault someone going 'papa bear' when they see their baby hurting, but he can fault them for how they treat others. "Mad yes, but not cruel. Harassment and bulling are not acceptable for any reason." His eyes flickering to Kelly, Buck cracks another knuckle. "Ev."

"I know."

Kelly doesn't enjoy Buck's tone in that last 'I know,' but he picks at it. While he's glad Buck is opening up to him, he hates the idea that their happy date—not a date—is ending like this. "I'm sorry if I'm pushing too much. I can take you home-"

"No, it's fine. I-I need this." Buck answers as he steps back to Kelly, his eyes wet. "It's just hard thinking about my last months with the 118 and my relationship with Eddie. It's such a striking contrast to what it was."

"And talking about it makes it real?"

"Leaving LA made it real." Buck exhales. "But yea." He closes his eyes, soaking in the night air. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A few seconds pass by before he goes, "The first month feels like a vacation compared to the last few. Those passing 'Are you going to sue us, Buckley' started to get accompanied with shoulder checks. Some were painful. Words turned sharp, more dehumanizing, and insults were more frequent." His eyes snap open, his eyes shimmering. "I suppose they got more daring when they learned B—Nash wasn't going to stop them."

Kelly reaches back out to Buck again, grasping him firmly on his left wrist. "What did they say to you?"

Buck shakes his head in a clear 'no.' "D-does it matter? They were cruel and nasty, knowing exactly where to twist the knife. I was pretty much an open book."

"Okay." Maybe Buck will feel comfort in the future to explain more in detail, Kelly and his friendship still new, as those words appear to be haunting the firefighter. "Evan, be honest. Besides the shoulder checks, then anyone get physical?" If there was, Kelly doesn't know what he will do, but he's going to need Matt to hold him back. No one deserves to be beaten down like Buck has been.

Buck inhales sharply but answers, "No... but there were threats."

"By who? Eddie?" Judging by the lack of a response, Kelly takes that as a yes. "What did he do?"

"When he wasn't ignoring me, he treated me like sh*t stuck to his shoes." Buck's head falls and he stuffs his hands back in his pocket as he kicked at a rock. "Being my b-best friend, he knew right where to poke. Knew how…" A wet sob escapes from his lips. "The t-things I told him in private were now out in the open, the entire firehouse mirroring them back to me. I never f-felt smaller. After a few months of this, I just broke."

Buck doesn't explain what those secrets were, but Kelly doesn't push. He doesn't need to to understand how what that must've felt like. There are things Matt knows that no one else does, things that could make Kelly's stomach drop if they got out. "I'm sorry, Evan."

Shaking his head, Buck retakes his seat. Head down, he says, "I know it isn't my fault, and yet, I blame myself. Still do. I knew about his issues with his estranged wife." Catching Kelly's raised questioning eyebrow, he adds, "Eddie was in the army, which put a lot on his stress on their relationship, as that put the sole raising of Christopher on her for years. Yes, his family helped, but nothing can really prepare a parent to take care of a child with cerebral palsy."

"He has CP?"

"Yes, but there's nothing wrong with him. He's prefect the way he is." Buck picks up his head long enough to shoot Kelly a protective, fond look.

Kelly doesn't need any help deciphering that look: anyone who talks sh*t on Christopher is dead to him. (Not that Kelly would.) "No, there's not."

Buck straightens up before he briefly tells Kelly about Shannon's sick mother, which gave her the out that she wanted. She was gone before anyone realized, destroying both Eddie and Christopher in the process. When she returned—a stressful time for everyone—and finally reconciled with them, she was hit by a car and died shortly after. "It f*cked him up, rightfully so, and while people can debate the lawsuit, no one can debate what it did to Eddie. He felt abandoned all over again." Even after everything, the ex-floater is still protective of the man who made his life a living hell.

On the other hand, Kelly hates the man on principle. No amount of trauma gives him the right to terrorize another human being. Reaching out for Buck's hand again, he goes, "Evan, that doesn't give him-"

Puffing out his cheeks, Buck interrupts, "I know, but it has to count for something, right? Right?" His eyes shine. "Because I don't think I could-"

By the number of times Buck has masterly dodged the question, Kelly can guess the answer, but he has to ask again, "Did he hurt you physically?" Buck's sudden sharp intake of air gives Kelly pause. "Evan."

"No… Well, he shoved me once, trying to get me out of his way. But that was my fault, he told me to leave him alone, but I didn't. Also a few rare raised fists and chilling threats, but he never hit me. No one did, not that they needed to. At that point, the threat of violent was enough."

Kelly's eye switches. "While this Eddie guy has serious trauma in his life—and I feel for him. I truly do-, he doesn't have the right to treat you like that. No one in that station should have."

Buck inhales deeply through his nose and exhales through his mouth. "I know."

'Do you?' hangs off Kelly's tongue, but he knows better than to ask that. And obviously, there's a part of Buckley that does believe it, considering he is sitting here with him. "And you never logged a complaint?" he asks. At the same time, Kelly knows it isn't easy to turn in his former friends. He highly doubts he would have if he was in the same boat.

Buck shakes his head. "No. I couldn't do that to my f-family. Besides, I had no faith anyone would take it seriously. I did sue the department."

"Any transfer requests?"

"Nash rejected them all."

"All?"

"Yes."

The picture is coming together. "So, what was the final straw?" Kelly asks.

Buck's eyes drop to Kelly's hand on his wrist. "It suddenly dawned on me that I was fighting a losing battle after an intense conversation with Eddie." He huffs. "Call it a conversation is putting it lightly." He mumbles something under his breath. "Anyhow, I decided, even if it ripped my heart out, that was it and left the next morning." He glances up at Kelly. "I don't regret it."

"And 51 loves having you. I lo-enjoy having you here." Kelly replies, fumbling over the word. However, the smile that Buck gives him makes his stomach drop. "Evan, thank you for telling me." He states, breathing through the warmth in his chest.

"You're thanking me? W-why?" Buck shutters, his eyes large.

Now that Kelly knows the entire story, everything clicks into place. "For trusting me."

Buck blinks. "Um… You really don't care about the lawsuit…or the…blood thinners?"

As a Lieutenant, Kelly probably should care, as he can't send a firefighter into a burning building if he isn't at 100%, but he doesn't. He gets Buck wholeheartedly. "I don't."

"At all?"

"Not one bit." He answers, honestly. Seeing Buck's stunned face, he adds, "All you want is to be a firefighter. You didn't want the money. You don't want special treatment. You just want to do the job, to save people. They may say that you betrayed them, but in reality, they failed you." Yes, there're things that Buck could've done differently, the lawsuit coming from a place of pain, but today isn't a day for that. Or any day really. Besides, hindsight is 20/20.

Buck stares into Kelly's eyes, his face completely red. "I…Ah…"

Kelly leans forward, a smile on his face. "I mean it. Nothing has changed… well besides the fact that I think you're amazing. Wait, I already thought that." He lets out a smile chuckle, not sure where that exactly came from.

Any fear in Buck vanishes, his facial expression wide opened. "T-Thank you." He takes a deep breath. "I mean it. It means a lot. I-I never thought anyone would want to work with me after the lawsuit. Between you, Chief Boden, and Captain Casey, I don't know what to make of it."

There's no doubt in Kelly's mind that Buck meant it, truly meant it. With months of being harassed and bullied, for Buck to hear someone doesn't hate him over it must mean the world to him. "Hey, Ev." Kelly says softly, scouting even closer. He can only imagine the relief that Buck must feel to not have to hide it anymore. There's also some disbelief mixed in, though no one can fault him for that.

"My lawyer told me that I may never work as a firefighter again because of this lawsuit, and with all the…." Buck trails off, as he exhales. "With everything that happened, I never thought anyone would accept me if I knew."

"I accept you, Ev." The words weigh heavy on him. "I-" Before Kelly can process what Buck is doing, the Ex-floater surges forward, closing the distance between them, and presses—almost painfully- his warm, chapped lips against Kelly's, stopping the lieutenant in his tracks. The world flashes before Kelly's eyes, all of his 'experiments' going full cycle, and everything just feels right. While those men did nothing for him, Kelly's heart and lungs are on fire at this kiss, and his chest is about the burst from the heat.

Not one to be out shined in the kissing department, he brings his hands up to cup Buck's face and goes to deepen the kiss; however, the second Kelly's finger tips touch Buck's face, the younger man bucks back like he has been burned, his eyes wild. Kelly, his lips tingling, blinks, the place in front of him suddenly empty. The ex-floater vanishes like a ninja. He wildly searches for Buck, who has put several feet between within seconds. "Evan." He utters, resisting the urge to touch his lips.

"OhgodI'msorryDon'thatemePleasedonthatemeItwasamistakeDon'thatemePlease." The words fell out of his Buck in a jumbo mess. Recognizing the crap storm that fell out of his mouth, he takes a quick breath. "It was a mistake."

'Mistakes' echoes in Kelly's head, hitting him in the gut. While that was his first kiss with a man and only lasted a few seconds, it meant something. It confirmed everything that he has been feeling. He's falling for Evan 'Buck' Buckley. "Hey, Ev." He calls, getting to his feet.

"I'm sorry." Buck spits out, as he rocks back and forth on his feet—barely mindful to the fact that they are on steps.

Kelly swallows, unsure of what to think. However, with everything that happened, he understands that emotions are high. Buck has spent months feeling alone- hated by everyone-, and to hear that Kelly has accepted him, it's understandable that he is blinded by his emotions. Kelly would never push something on Buck. Never. "It's okay."

Stiffly nodding, Buck abruptly turns away from Kelly. "It's getting l-late. Mind taking me home?" he asks, his voice shaky, as he digs his hands into his pocket.

"Yea, sure." Kelly tries to ignore the flicker in his heart.

*O*O*

Kelly refuses to drop Buck at the diner that he picked him up at, and with the kiss—the f*cken kiss—hanging over him, Buck doesn't have the urge to argue. Feeling like a fool, the less words Buck says the better. Buck, his leg jackhammering, mumbles out his address as he keeps his focus on buildings. Time crawls with each minute feeling like an eternity. With every turn, Buck almost jumps out of his skin, and by the time they reach his apartment building, he's more worried about getting out of the car than Kelly seeing where he lived. His nerves on fire, Buck barely waits a second after the car stops before throws the door open and jumps out. "I—I go-"

"Buck, wait." Kelly, his expression guarded, shoots out, leaning over the center console. "Wait."

Buck, exhaling, glances over his shoulder at Kelly. His entire being is screaming at him to run away, as he's seconds away from a break down. Baring his soul, revealing the truth about the lawsuit, has undoubtedly and unsurprisingly drained him, and as a result, his self-control was—still is- significantly compromised, which is the only reason why he snapped and kissed Mother f*cking Kelly Severide like a lustful teenager. And the reason why he wants to do it again. The reason why he wants to bring Kelly up to his apartment, only to be pinned to his bed by said man. What the hell is wrong with me? He barks at himself. "Y-Yea?" he asks.

"I enjoyed tonight, and I meant everything that I said." Kelly grins. "My opinion of you hasn't changed. Okay, it changed somewhat, but now, my opinion of you is higher. Takes a special kind of person to walk away from millions of dollars."

f*ck. sh*t. f*ck. f*cking Hell. sh*t f*ck. Just f*ck it all to hell. Buck freezes for a second, his chest feeling airy and tight. What is wrong with me? "I-I don't know about that." What he does know is that the desire to press his lips against Kelly's is wrong, and even if he knows that's a foolish dream, he wants to give in to that desire. Why does Kelly Severide have to be so goddamn perfect? f*cken hell.

"It is." Kelly retorts, expression serious. There is no room for debate in his eyes.

Buck's tongue is heavy in his mouth, his jaw stiff. "Okay." He mumbles—cheeks red-, unable to get anything else out. Unable to continue this conversation without turning into a hot mess, he turns and books it to his apartment, pushing Kelly and his perfect smile out of his mind.

*O*O*

Buck whips off his jacket- tossing it at the couch though it falls short- as soon as he closes the door behind him, and almost immediately, paces his entire apartment. There're a hundred things flying through his mind, and he doesn't know what to make of them. For one, there're no words to describe the sensation in his chest knowing that Kelly's opinion of him hasn't changed. The idea that Kelly doesn't care—or rather, the idea that Kelly doesn't hate him does stuff to him. While Buck has to admit that Kelly is a third party who doesn't see the lawsuit as the 118 does, he feels validated. Someone finally sees his pain and embraces him whole heartedly. God, he feels whole. He can finally get his head above water and breathe for the first time in months. He can see himself being happy. He can see himself having a family again, which is everything.

Yet, he had to go and kiss the Lieutenant.

Like f*ck.

During the entire date- sh*t, not a date!-, Buck had to hold himself back, because he wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them. And yet, the second Kelly tells him that he accepts him, Buck—being the dumb ass that he is—kisses him, his resolve breaking. And Kelly, being the amazing man that he is, handled the kiss like a pro and treated him like a human being and not some disgusting thing who dared to kiss him. There was even a smile on his face when the Lieutenant took off.

sh*t

f*ck

Without a doubt, Kelly will continue to treat him like a human and not mock him for the kiss when he sees him during their next shift, and yet, Buck doesn't know how he's going to face Kelly. How is he going to face Kelly now that his inappropriate and not reciprocated feelings are in the open? How can their new friendship handle that? Here Severide is being a good friend, and Buck is warping those actions into something else. Regardless of gender, Buck knows how uncomfortable it is to have someone thirsting after you when you don't feel the same. While Buck would never cross anyone's or Kelly's boundaries (again), he has already kissed the man. A man who is only interested in women.

Why does he have to be such an idiot? God, he wishes had someone to talk to.

Buck stops his pacing, his legs tingling, and rests his forehead against the nearest wall. He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he won't be able to stand it if this creates a tense awkwardness between Kelly and him. He huffs, wishing he had someone to talk to. Anyone at 51 is off limit since Kelly Severide is his problem. Normally, when he does something stupid, he would talk to Maddie, and they would have one of their famous Buckley sibling's nights. He has lost count of how many times they have gotten drunk together. Forgotten how many times they cried over their dates or crushes. He remembers how supportive she was when he told her he likes guys too.

While he wishes for someone to talk to, there's really one person he wants to talk to and that's Maddie. However, he isn't in a stable emotional state to hear her voice without falling apart. After months of not seeing her, he would surely crack if he heard her cry, and he would promise her anything without hesitation, which includes coming back. After finally finding his footing, going back would break him, but he needs his sister.

But there is more than one way to talk to her. His mind reasons. Buck reaches for his phone, opens up the internet browser, and logs into his old email. His throat dry, he ignores all of the 'where are you' emails and opens up a new, blank one. His fingers flying, he types out an email and quickly hits send before he can change his mind.

Mads! Help. I f*cked up. I kissed a straight man…. I really like him.

He really does like Kelly Severide.

Chapter 17: The Kiss

Chapter Text

Chapter 17:

The Kiss

Years Prior: Location Unknown

A pair of bloody and bruised knuckles are wrapped tightly on the taffrail of an U.S. Naval Ship. They're wrapped so tightly that his fingernails cut into the skin on his palms, creating little crescent imprints. The owner of said hands has a matching bruised rib and a black eye, a souvenir from his last mission. His first real mission with everything else being training assignments. For every month this Navy Seal spent training, he spent a month talking himself up, needing to hear those words over and over again. While it took some time, it worked, and there was no hesitation in his arms when he aimed his loaded weapon at a live target for the first time. And even with the first kill under his belt, there was no hesitation when he took the second life.

At the time, he couldn't—wouldn't—process what that meant…what that means: taking another's life, but now, it's hitting the new Seal like a ton of bricks. And he isn't being dramatic. It feels like someone has repeatedly hit in him the gut with the bricks. No, this feeling isn't unexpected, as many, who wore the uniform, have transverse this guilt after their first kill in the line of duty, justified or not. And not unexpectedly, the Naval uniform is suddenly heavy on the sailor, a fat noose around his neck. At first, he tries to ride it out in his temporary—tiny as hell- quarters with the rest of his Seal team, but there's too many dicks in that tiny room to think. Instead, he hides in the open on the deck, basking in the hot sun, and stares out at the ocean. In all directions, there's only water. The ocean goes as far as the eye can see, which is both freeing and scary.

With a heavy heart, Evan Buckley closes his eyes and tills his head back, taking in the salty ocean's air and the sun's hot rays, as he listens to the harsh water hit the side of the ship. There's roar of sailors behind him, performing their daily duties. With his trident on his chest and his ugly bruises, all the Sailors ignored him… well, all but one. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it's the only one that matters.

"Buckley."

The smooth, fond voice cuts through the air like a knife, and Evan doesn't need to see who it to know the man's voice. "Commander."

Steve McGarrett steps to the taffrail and settles right next to Evan, their elbows touching. His eyes flicker to the darken bruise on his right eye before following the young man's gaze to the ocean. "How you doin', Kid?"

The Commander's nickname for him echoes against the walls of his head. "Fine. Just a little swore." Evan answers, softly, his right eye twitching. This is nothing he hasn't physically felt before, training getting quite intense, and this—whatever this is—has nothing to do with his bruised ribs.

"I wasn't asking about that." McGarrett states matter of factly.

"I'm aware, but it's nothing. It's a part of the job." Evan retorts with a huff.

The Commander, straight face, studies Buckley from the corner of his eyes for a few long seconds before he goes, "It isn't nothing, Ev." He pauses. "When it becomes nothing, then we have an issue. Killing is and should never be easy, and it shouldn't be taken lightly." He huffs softly before he turns his stare back to the water. "So, how are you really?"

Evan's eyes drop to his hand, his grip finally loosening. He extends his fingers out one by one, his glaze dropping to the dry blood, and ignores the pain shooting through his stiff fingers. "Do you ask everyone on your team this?" he spits out, his bitterness shocking even him. He thickly shallows.

McGarrett lets Buckley's bitterness roll off him like a slap from a feather. "It's the duty of a commanding officer to check in on any men under them, so yes. I do check on everyone." The corners of his lips turn upright. "Besides, I have to check in on Freddie daily. Hourly. Without it, it would be mad chaos."

The commander's words cut through Evan's bitterness, and he snorts, smile poking through. While McGarrett is stern and unapproachable at the time with his 'scary Commander' glare (though Freddie and Evan are immune to it), Freddie is the goofball, always doing something to make the team laugh. Evan isn't ashamed to say that he and Freddie got into trouble together a lot, but he is quick to blame the older man. "Sure would."

"All kidding aside, Kid, I'm here for you if you need to talk." McGarrett pushes off the taffrail and straightens up, stretching out his arms above his head. He studies Evan's profile before he goes, "What helps me is knowing that what I do protects those who cannot protect themselves. We're a shield for them, and with my—our—sacrifices, it makes the world a tad bit safer."

Evan tilts his head just enough to meet his Commander's warm glaze. "Yes, Sir." He responds, unsure where he would be if it wasn't for Commander McGarrett. At first the Commander was hard to read, but with each passing day, something flickered beneath that mask, and he became an open book, a friendship growing between the two. Or as McGarrett calls it, a family.

The older man's eyes narrow into fine points. "Sir? You're making me feel old now."

Straightening out his arm, Evan pushes off the taffrail and just grins. "Well, you are old."

The man looks positivity offended. "Um…Excuse me?! Did you call me old? I am not old. Thirty isn't old." He resorts, playfully shoving Evan in the shoulder.

Evan, who's in his early 20s, thinks anyone over 30 is old… Okay, he doesn't, but it's fun to tease McGarrett, to get his mask to break. "Have you thrown your back out yet, Old Man?" he teases as he pretends to throw his back out. While Evan can never wash away the image of his enemy's eyes rolling back as he shot him dead, laughing with McGarrett helps.

"Watch it, Buckley."

*O*O*

There's a layer of thick dirt on Evan's skin that he doesn't think he can ever get rid of without an hour long shower, and the wet wipes are utterly worthless, no matter how many he uses. The pile of used wipes is growing. He's pretty sure he reeks, though he has become numb to the smell—much like everyone else here—after a few months in the field, but honestly, it comes with fun-odd but fun—jokes along the guys. In fact, they make it into a challenge and the winner gets the candy that comes in the MRIs. Evan has won a few times, though he isn't exactly sure what he has won in this stinky game, but it's enjoyable none the less and the prize, which changes from time to time, is the nice.

In this case, the person who smelled the worst got to speak to their loved one first. Miller won and got the first call, and he spent his time talking to some chick, who Evan is pretty sure is a striper. (Not that's anything wrong with striping. There's just that stereotype of stripers with servicemen.) McGarrett has warned them about stripers and how often service men married them and lose everything. Granted, relationships, regardless of how long you have known someone, often fail at this stage due to the stress of having your loved one deployed. Miller didn't listen, but that isn't Evan's problem if Miller doesn't heed the warning. However, it makes for the prefect canon fire.

When Miller finishes his call, he gives Buckley an over top grin. "Oh, boys, I'm in love!"

Evan snorts. "Is that your dick talking?" he asks, as he, shirtless, runs a wet wipe up his left arm to his shoulder. "I think your dick is talking. She's probably banging half the town." This isn't a slight against her professional per se, as everyone knows the likelihood a deployed service member is getting cheated on. It's a running joke… well not to the person getting cheated on.

"Are you jealous? Want my dick for yourself?" Miller teases, motioning to his private areas.

"Considering you reek? Nope, not at all." Mockingly, Evan brings the wipe up to his nose. "What's your opinion, Freddie?"

Freddie, nearly a decade older than Miller and Buckley, throws his arms in the air. "I am not getting in the middle of this. I got my own call to make." He quickly excuses himself to make, Buck following him with his eyes.

Miller's grins drop and gives Evan a quick once over. "So…You never seem interested in phoning home. No one at home? No parent or family?"

That's a loaded question even if Miller doesn't mean for it to be, and at first, Evan wants to ignore it; however, he knows that look. Miller isn't one to drop it, and it'll be easy just to answer, since the man is a dog looking for a bone. "I'm no contact with my parents." There's a laundry list of traumas from his childhood, which Evan boxes up and stuffs away, so while the Buckleys are biologically his parents, Evan doesn't consider them his parents, Maddie taking over that roll. So no, he will not be calling his parents, especially his mother. Reaching out to his sister has crossed his mind several times, but he doubts she'll answer… Though, she may now since he hasn't been sending postcards…. "A… sister, but I hadn't spoken to her years."

"Does she know you're in the Navy? A Navy Seal?"

Letting out the large huff he's holding, Evan shakes his head. "No." He doesn't dive farther into that, though the heavy 'no' says enough. God, Evan misses Maddie, wanting nothing more than to reach out to her and tell her about this. Granted, he just wants to talk to her. She is his family, and he feels off without her. Since Doug, it feels like there's an ocean (well there technically is at the moment) between them, and at times, he feels abandoned. He knows that's unfair to her, considering Doug is a f*cker and their parents are sh*t.

"So, no one knows?" Miller's raises an eyebrow. "No one waiting for the call?"

The call. Evan pauses, the question slapping him. He never gave it much thought—thinking he's invincible-, though he supposes it would be his parents to get the call. He snorts thinking about how his dear old mother would react to two Naval Officers showing up on her doorstep. Would she care? Considering how many times she locked him in his room, he doubts so. "I will have them call you instead."

"I'm pretty sure if you're dead, I'll be there right there next to you."

"If we're both dead, then some sh*t went down." Evan replies, changing the subject.

Miller's eyes drift to Freddie, who is animated gesturing with his hands at the screen. "I'm sure both Hart and McGarrett would kill us."

Evan's heads mindlessly bob, as he ponders the thought. "Especially McGarrett."

"I d-"

"What am I doing now?" Commander McGarrett asks as he pops into the field barracks wearing a chest plate and a skeptical smile.

Evan's head stops bobbing and he gives his commander a cheeky smile. "How you will kill us if we die."

The commander lets out a playful huff and rolls his eyes. "That's way too much work. You can stay dead." Miller throws up his arms and playingly storms off mumbling, now intently making poses photos behind Freddie Hart. "He has a short attention span." He deadpans.

"Yup." Evan smiles as he pops out his bottom lip.

McGarrett gives Evan a calculating look. "Did you call your sister yet?"

Evan goes stiff. "What?" Unlike everyone else, he told the commander about his sister, them bonding over their sisters. After holding it all in, it was refreshing to tell someone about Maddie, one of the most important people in his life… well before she ditched him for Doug. No! That's completely unfair considering their parents. Like him, Maddie wanted to escape them. Evan's expression sours at the thought of them and their 'parenting.' If there's a poster for 'sh*tty people who should've never been parents', the Buckleys are on it. So yes, he understands why she left. He truly does, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It hurts as she (until now) was and the only person who has ever loved him. His mother did not love him.

"Ev?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, said man's head pops up. "No, I hadn't." He pauses and adds, "have you?"

The commander scowls, having his own sister issues. "That's not the same thing."

Evan tosses the dirty wet wipe in his hand to the ground with the other and reaches for his shirt. "Anything good for dinner?" he asks, changing the subject.

McGarrett clocks the obvious change in the subject, but he doesn't call the man on it. "It depends on what you call yummy. However, I scored some Chili Mac MREs."

While citizens would turn up their noses at MREs, the Chili Mac ones are the ones to die for. Evan is willing to be annoying as sh*t to get one. This includes poking his teammates and batting his pretty blues at them, his best puppy dog face. Most give in to him, unable to take his pouting. "Yes." He cheers, though his mind drifts to his sister. No matter the distance or crap between them, Evan will always want his sister. There will always be a bond between them that cannot be shattered, even if Evan feels cut off from her.

*O*O*

Chicago-Present day

Buck: Mads! Help. I f*cked up. I kissed a straight man…. I really like him.

Maddie's response isn't immediate, and with every second that passes, Buck's nerves spike and it gets harder to breathe. She has to respond, right? She has to! Buck's brain goes down a rabbit hole, everything turning on its head, and by the time she responds—nearly two hours later-, he's a basket case, his jitters getting the better of him. He almost drops his phone a few times as he tries to unlock it.

Maddie: Surely, it isn't that bad. How did he react?

Buck's heart almost leaps out of his chest as he reads her response, and he's hit with an intense warmth and love, even if he is a bit confused by her response. There's no 'where are you?' or 'When are you coming back?' Instead, it's how can I help you, which Buck is eternally grateful for. He can't deal with the 'why did you leave?' questions. Buck shakes those grueling thoughts from his head and types out his response, his heart still racing.

Buck: Like a gentleman! A gentleman, Mads! He said it was okay. That we're good. That he still had a good time with me, and his opinion of me hasn't changed. I don't know how it hasn't. I kissed him!

Even now, Kelly's kind, gentle response boggles the mind, leaving Buck both confused and shocked. Most men—well, the sh*tty ones—wouldn't be so gentle and would shove the 'offending' party away, causing a substantial amount of damage. Buck can recall the kid in high school who nearly shoved him down a steep slope after Buck foolishly leaned forward thinking they had a moment.

Maddie: What exactly happened, Ev? You ran away like an idiot, didn't you? My sister's vibes are tingling.

There's this heat in his chest as Buck's brain fuzzes for a second, his face red. Though there could be some debate (considering Maddie doesn't know about his Seal days), she knows him the best, probably even better than himself.

Buck: What makes you think that?

If this conversation was in person, Buck would've fumbled the whole sentence. It would've taken him several attempts to get it out. Even now, his mouth has gone completely dry, while he struggles to keep hold of his phone in his sweaty hands.

Maddie: Evan, I love you, but I know you. I see you covering your head with a brown paper bag before dashing off.

Said man goes pink at that awkward memory. After his first crush rejected him, he ran off crying, but that shouldn't count.

Buck: It was just one time! And I was 7. You can't hold that against me forever!

Maddie: I sure will. You don't know me very well if you don't know that. So, tell me what happened.

Buck takes a deep breath and settles into his bed, stuffing a pillow behind his neck. While his jitters from earlier are gone, they are replaced by a new set of nerves and concern. It has been months since he talked to Maddie, months since he has been truly honest with her. Months since he let her in. What will she say if he lets her in? Does she think he is a coward for running? His heart is pounding in his chest at the mere thought of letting her in.

Maddie: Evan!

Maddie: I will not stop until you tell me.

Maddie: So, tell me.

There's no doubt in Buck's mind that Maddie will hound him until he comes clean, and unless he wants a headache, there's no point in fighting it. Besides, this is why he reached out to her. He needs his sister. He needs her ear. With a deep breath, his eyes dash to the flashing digital clock on the night stand. It's getting late, and while he should tell his sister good night, he's struggling to do so. He misses her so much that saying bye hurts too much. Plus, admitting his feelings for Kelly makes them real, and if it is real…, he's pained with the knowledge it can never happen. With a deep breath, he writes.

Buck: One of the guys from work took me out to tour the city on our off day. He took me on a few tours. It was really cool. One being a ghost/Gang tour, which was so awesome. One was a boat tour. sh*t, the history in this place is remarkable. Then at the end, we sat by the water and talked. God, it was cathartic. Then, I did it without thinking…leaning in and kissing him.

Her response is almost instant.

Maddie: Sounds like a date.

Buck is beat red. It wasn't a date. It wasn't… no matter how he wishes it was.

Buck: It wasn't a date. He's straight!

Maddie: And yet, there was a kiss.

Buck: I kissed him, not another way around. It was a mistake!

Maddie: How would you know? You ran away like a chicken. A chicken! You didn't give that man a chance.

Buck's heart pounds against his chest. A chance? A chance to do what? To reject him? To shove him away?

Buck: I'm no chicken!

Maddie: Sooo, you didn't run away after laying a smooch on him?

Buck lets out an annoyed, pained huff, which Maddie has the misfortune of not hearing.

Maddie: You just huffed like a baby, didn't you?

"No…" Buck utters though a yawn, and again, there's no one to hear it. That's probably a good thing as he, battling through his exhaustion, reaches for a pillow and attempts to smother himself. He says attempts considering he does it half ass and just ends up screaming into the pillow. He doesn't stop until he's out of breath, grasping for air and his heart hammering in his chest. He sluggishly rolls to his side and tosses the pillow that used to cover his face against the wall. His mind replays the kiss in his head. Exhaling slowly and deeply, he puts done his phone, unable to form words at the moment, and reaches for another pillow, this one to hold against his chest in a vice grip.

Buck takes a deep breath as he thinks of Maddie, of her lying next to him after a night of gabbing. Of her being the stereotypical big sister. Of them gossiping until they fell asleep. He exhales deeply, his mind drifting to Kelly and that deliciously warm smile of his. Why does he have to be so nice…so good? Kelly makes it so easy to fall for him. He groans as he curls into himself, his exhaustion hitting him like a wrecking ball. With being on his feet all day and his stressing over the kiss, the fatigue hangs off him like a brick collar. Unable to fight it anymore, he drifts off to sleep with dreams of Maddie and Kelly.

*O*O*

Buck wakes with a jolt, his phone violently vibrating and screaming in his hand. His brain not fully booted up, he forcefully tosses his head side to side, shaking himself awake. It takes several long seconds before his version clears and his surroundings take shape. His body still feeling heavy, it takes a few deep exhales before his beings settle and for him to feel normal. "sh*t," he croaks, his throat dry, as he shakes his head. His eyes shoot to the clock on the night stand, and he lets out one more curse. While he isn't late, he does have much time to get to work and has to kick himself into gear if he doesn't want to be.

Kicking his feet over his bed, he leans forward and checks his phone for messages. His heart drops not seeing any texts from Kelly, the gloom in his chest surprising him. With how he left Kelly yesterday—bolting like a crazy person-, he isn't sure there is anything to say besides 'sorry,' and yet, he finds himself longing for that human contact. Longing for that warm contact from Kelly Severide. He's unaware of when he got addicted to Kelly's kindness, but somewhere along the line, he also got addicted to those pretty eyes of his and gorgeous smile.

God, he has it bad. Just thinking about his smile heats up his chest. Urgh. However, there are messages on his phone: emails. Several emails from Maddie, which draws out a fond smile from the man. No matter how often he thinks about it, the warmth just grows, and he can't get over this sensation. He also feels lighter knowing his sister is back in his life, even if they're simply exchanging emails.

Maddie: So, tell me about this man. What's his name? Where did you meet him? What does he do? What color are his eyes? Does he have a good smile? Was it love at first sight? Tell me everything.

When he did not respond, she sent another message.

Maddie: Either you're ignoring me or you're sleeping! You better not be ignoring me. :p I don't know what time it is for you, but I hope you have a good night sleep. I won't keep you from your dreams.

That winky face is a kick direct to Buck's gut. "Maddie!" he groans, covering his face with his hand. He can't say that his dreams are innocent or child safe, but they are something he will never discuss with his sister.

Buck: Mads! I got to get to work. Keep it pg.

For now, he keeps it simple as he really does have to get to work and has no time to stew over his response. With his meeting with Boden, Casey, Adam, and Adam's boss on his mind, he can't allow himself to get too distracted by Maddie and her teasing. He can't allow himself to get distracted by his thoughts of Kelly. He needs to keep a level head. He darkens his screen and keeps focused on getting ready for work.

*O*O*

Sitting on the bench in the empty station locker room, Buck closes his eyes and practices some of the breathing techniques he learned in the Navy. Some of the ones Steve ran through with him. After a few deep breaths and gentle exhales, he checks his phone for any messages but sees none. Due to the time difference, it isn't surprising that there aren't any from Maddie, being still early in California. However, it doesn't stop him from staring at her last two messages, his heart beating in his ears. His cheeks go pink thinking about the dreams Maddie is teasingly hinting at, which involves a shirtless Kelly wearing only a fire helmet and his turnover pants.

One of Kelly's hands dedicatedly travels downwards on chest in a sensual and erotic fashion, while the other plays with his waistband. He pulls at the-

Nope.

Nope.

Don't go there! Buck yells at himself, and yet, he can't help it, a cheesy smile breaking out on his face. The back of his neck turns different shades of red.

"What you're smiling about over there?"

The sudden yet friendly voice pulls Buck from his racy thought, and in his surprise, he wobbles on the bench, almost toppling over. Flapping like a craze bird, he catches himself on the locker and plants his right arm, pushes himself upright. He grunts, settling his racing heart, before he spins to face the incomers. To his surprise and relief, he smiles and greets, "Ritter, Gallo."

Gallo gives him a cheeky smile. "So, who's the lucky girl?"

"Who said it is a girl?" Buck shots out quickly.

"I know that loopy smile. Ritter makes fun of me for it all the time." Gallo gives Ritter a friendly, yet playful eyeroll before he turns back to Buck. "Sooo, is she cute?" With a huff, Ritter, eyes narrowed, elbows his friend hard in the side. "OUCH. Hey! What was that for?"

"Whoever he's talking to is his business." Ritter answers, sternly. Like a switch has been hit, he pauses for a second, his lips turning slightly up right. "Granted, that blush tells it all. Who's the lucky lady?... But if that's too pushy, you can tell us off and ignore us. I totally get it."

"My Sister." Buck answers as he stands up, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants.

The expression on Gallo's faces morphs. "You have a sister?" he asks, surprised.

The answer only seems to confuse Ritter, who's fucus on the blush under Buck's face. "That blush is from your sister?"

Buck stiffens, as he fights back his first instinct to lie. Man, he's tired of lying and hiding. While he made a fool of himself in front of Kelly, it felt good to be honest and to let it all out. Before, it felt like he was squashed into a small box, limbs broken, and he doesn't want that unpleasant feeling to return. He refuses to live like that. "She was just teasing me about a guy I like." He will never admit to who it is, but he has no interest in hiding his sexuality.

Gallo's eyes go wide. "You're gay? I-" He lets out wounded cry when Ritter elbows him hard again. "OUCH! What is that for?"

Ritter shakes his head, a glimpse of annoyance hanging on his face. "You can't go around asking people if they're gay!"

"I'll… He…" Gallo huffs, embarrassed and mortified. "I…ah…Mentions-"

Buck's thunderous laugher interrupts the two, drawing their attention back to them. "It's fine, but no, I'm not gay."

"Oh." They both utter.

"BI, actually." Buck offers. While he never hid his BI status with the 118, he never told them either. There was no need to, considering the last guy Buck took to bed was Adrian and he swore off guys for a while after him.

"Ohhh," Ritter and Gallo utter, surprised.

Buck doesn't expect any judgement from these two, but it is an auto response. "Is that a problem?"

"What?! No." Gallo's voice creaks, going up a tad too high up. "Ritter's gay!" He awkwardly pats Ritter on the top of his shoulder a bit too forcefully.

Ritter, who has never hidden his sexual preferences, lets out a pained squeal. "Dude, you can't go around saying that!"

Gallo gives a sheepish smile, which Buck can only laugh at. While he's on the outside looking in, he enjoys Ritter and Gallo's friendship. It's pure and genuine. Sure, they're two goofballs who would sooner trip on their own feet than win a fight, but they are the type of friends who will go to war for the other, and Buck loves them for it. "We're good, and honestly, you two are hilarious." He smiles, rubbing at his nose.

"Goofballs, according to Casey and Herrmann." Gallo adds, nodding.

"I think that's more directed at you," Ritter counters.

Waving his arms around like a chicken without a head, Gallo opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the bell rings throughout the fire station, kicking everyone into action. However, as Buck leaps into action, a sudden movement catches the corner of his eyes. He doesn't get a glimpse of the person's face, only making out a blue shirt. While he doesn't miss a beat running, his chest goes cold. Though he hadn't checked the locker room when he sat down, he thought the room was empty, a dead silence had filled the air. But who the hell cares? Buck reasons with himself if someone overheard him. Sure, Buck has not been at this house from long enough to know that this is a very accepting house. He has nothing to fear.

*O*O*

One call turns into three (two car accidents. Can no one drive anymore? And a kitchen fire gone bad), and it's a few hours later before can they return to the station. Everyone is tired and a little grumpy from the hunger, Gallo and Mouch already complaining about the food. Kidd throws back a sassy comment here and there, but her eyes and smile are on the road. Casey just watches the interaction, his eyes flickering to the side view mirror, which holds Buck's reflection, every so often. Their eyes meet a few times, and while it worries him at first (did I do something?), Buck can read the 'Just checking in glances' from the Captain and settles.

Giving Casey a 'I'm okay' smile, Buck reaches into his pocket for his phone to see if he has an email from Maddie, and sure enough, he does.

Maddie: PG? You're no fun. And oh, it's not lost on me that you avoided the question.

Maddie: But no, I'm not going to harass you about him. Just being your loveable older sister. A loveable sister who cares very deeply about her brother. Only looking out for your wellbeing.

Again, it isn't lost on him that Maddie isn't pushing for more info on his current situation, and Buck isn't sure how he feels about that. Yes, he doesn't want to talk about it with her—not yet at least, but why isn't she asking him? A million thoughts pass through his mind at that thought, his chest going numb. Does she not care? Nope. Don't go there. No matter what his traitorous mind tries to whisper in his ears, Maddie will always love and care for him, the same for him for her. There's nothing they would not do for the other.

Letting out a large exhale, Buck's mind wanders back to the 118, and the mess he left behind. There are many things he regrets and leaving Maddie without a saying single word is one of them. He was so focused on himself that he forgot about her. However, he can only keep his head forward and focus on the present. They can rebuild what has been broken and be better for it. A life without Maddie in it isn't something he wants. Whether or not she is teasing him, it's a relief to be connected with her again. It's fun to go back and forth with her.

Buck, his head down in his phone, sneaks a glimpse at Mouch and Gallo, who are wildly gesturing at each other before he types out his response to Maddie. Their voices filling up the cabin, he bites down on his bottom lips to stop the blush from forming on his face as he rereads the message. While he still feels like a foolish idiot—God, how will he ever face Kelly?- for kissing the Lieutenant, there's no denying the warmth that spreads through him when he thinks about the man…when he thinks about his beautiful eyes.

Buck: Not my fault you're nosey AF. Geez, get a life, Old Lady…. JK. 😉 Don't hurt me. I love you. But okay, the guy is a fellow firefighter, and we work at the same fire station. He's a LT, older, and has green eyes, but at times, I swear they are blue.… and his smile… I don't have words…

He hits send on the message before he can change or add more. However, he is hit with a sudden wave of gloom.

Buck: But it doesn't matter. He's straight and I'm idiot. I still don't know how I will face him.

No, seriously, how is Buck going to face Kelly? Usually, if he makes a fool out of himself in front of someone, he will simply avoid them and pretend they don't exist, which can be easy. It isn't hard when you don't work in the same station, but that isn't the case here. There're only so many rooms in this fire station, and he can't avoid Kelly for long… well, he can try, but considering who he's dealing with, that won't be impossible for long. Kelly isn't the type to be ignored, and if there is one thing Buck is sure of, it's that. There's no way in hell Kelly would let anyone ignore him. Granted, Buck isn't sure he wants Kelly to ignore him. It does something to his heart to think about Kelly chasing after him. Stop it, Buckley, he thinks to himself as he exhales.

All that aside, there's another side to this coin. While Kelly won't be snubbed, it doesn't mean Kelly won't allow himself to be 'ignored', gracefully allowing Buck to have that cushion. Going off Kelly's gentle rejection, he can totally see the man doing that, permitting Buck to have his space to spare his feelings. It would be in Kelly's nature. Urge. Why did he have to be so stupid? Buck really doesn't know what he's going to do, especially if Kelly starts to look at him differently. Anything but friendship and kindness in Kelly's eyes will kill him.

Buck: And hey, enough about that. How are you? How are you and Chimney?

Besides the fact that if he thinks about Kelly any longer, he may explode, Buck is very curious about Chimney and the rest of the 118. Did something happen? Is that why Maddie is only focused on him liking a guy? He hopes everything is okay with Chimney and Maddie. Regardless of what happened between him and the 118, Maddie deserves to be happy, and he has no ill intent or feelings toward Chimney, only the person who makes his sister smile. And she des—

"What's going on with your face, Buckley?" Mouch asks, gesturing in a circle toward his face. "Looks like you're having a…" His face scrunches up, and he pauses, the gears in his brain turning. "…Whatever that is."

Gallo leans forward slightly, eyeing the twitchy expression. "Your sister?" he asks.

Confused, Casey glances back over his shoulder, inquiring, "You got a sister, Buckley?"

Buck, eyes wide and his cheeks red, tucks his phone back into his pocket and glances around the truck's cab, meeting everyone's eyes for a second. "Y-Yea, I do. She was teasing me like all sisters do."

"Well, what else are sisters for?" Casey teases with a light smile.

"Pain and torture?" Mouch offers up.

Something flashes in Gallo's eyes, but it's gone in a flash, replaced by a smile. "That could just be you, Mouch."

Mouch laughs. "I thought we knew that already."

Buck's heart settles just a bit, his sister's teasing falling to the side, but that only lasts for a second when he notices a familiar (Not his) Jeep sitting outside the firehouse. Buck's expression shuts down, a familiar—yet a distance sensation flooding him. Quickly and quietly getting out of their turnout gear, Buck follows Casey to Boden's office. Unconsciously, he scans the floor—not willing to voice what or who he is looking for; however, he spots Kelly's calculating, narrowing stare when they turn down the hallway, but he forces those penetrating eyes out of his thoughts.

*O*O*

Boden's office seems tiny when Casey and Buck, both covered in a layer of ash and sweat, file in. Buck isn't sure if that's due to the fact that there is 5 large men in the room or the weight of Adam's case on his shoulder, but as soon as Buck steps in, he wants to turn tail and step back out, his entire body stiff with tension. It's a battle to breathe, an odd sensation of someone sitting on his chest. Instinctively, his right hand drops to his side and dives deep into his pocket for his phone. Almost immediately, his hand wraps around it in a vice grip, feeling like a lifeline. The air feels less toxic. It takes a few seconds for him to settle and for him to breathe.

Buck's eyes flicker to the neutral faced Adam who, arms crossed against his chest, is leaning against the wall, for a second before they dash across the room to Voight, or who Buck assumes the man to be, sitting on sofa. There's a smugness about the man that no one can deny. Buck isn't sure what he was expecting from Adam's boss, but he looks like he could kill a man without blinking. That thought gives Buck pause…Granted, that could fit Steve McGarrett as well, but that's different as that is Steve. Besides his sister, if there is one person he trusts absolutely, it would be that man.

Behind his desk, Boden stiffy huffs, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Casey, Buckley." He greets, waving them in. "We were just talking about our situation." His friendly tones are gone.

Buck bobs up and down, as the word 'our' sticks out to him. It shouldn't shock him, but it does. "Okay."

Voight shots Buck a calculating look before turning his glaze back to Boden. "As I was stating when Ruzek initially tapped firefighter Buckley, he wasn't under your command, nor was it intentional. I believe Buckley has already informed you about the situation. Wrong place wrong time, and Officer Ruzek had to act fast." He states, calmly. "And the rest is history."

The words 'history' echoes loudly in Buck's ear, his stomach churning, and this room is thick with tension. Buck wishes he had a knife to cut it.

Casey quickly scans the room, his eyes bouncing between Boden and Voight. "What did we miss?" Casey says, taking a step forward.

Boden leans forward in his chair and cracks his knocks. "We were discussing Buckley's involvement," he starts, fumbling over the word, "in their sting operation and how I'm not a fan of my men being used as his pawns. We are firefighters, not cops."

"Agreed, our job is not dodging bullets." Casey chirps, irritated.

Buck shifts uneasily. Adam has noted there's bad blood between Voight and Casey, but this is a more than a little bad blood between the two. Clearly, this goes deeper than some bad blood.

Adam's eyes shift to Buck, their eyes meeting. A million words pass between them though their eyes. "I will apologize for that," he states, looking away from Buck. "This wasn't my intention, and I'm actively trying to keep his involvement to a minimum. However, Dom—our suspect—is greatly interested in Buckley. I'm not sure why, though I can guess that it's in part due to his status as a firefighter. He thinks he can use that. He wants to have a meeting." Adam rubs his nose. "The goal is to get him on the record to admitting his next heist and then catch him in the act."

"What exactly is that?" Boden asks.

"Currently, he is funneling in drugs from California, which has put quite a few people in comas, but he hopes to expand. Our goal is to get these drugs off the street and stop him before he hurts anyone else."

Boden's eyes zip to Buck. "The point still remains that I do not want one of my firefighters involve in one of your strings. He has already been drawn in far enough, and I have seen what happens when your strings go amiss."

Buck lifts his head at that. Okay, that's clue to this 'bad' blood.

Voight shifts in his seat and straightens his jacket. "Point taken. We just need Buckley at one more meeting."

A skeptical Casey turns back to Buck, giving him his Captain accessing glaze. "Are you okay with that, Buck?"

For the most part, Buck remained quiet in his meeting and just took everything in. There's a lot of history here that he's unaware of, but helping people, saving lives that's all Buck wants to do, and he's willing to risk himself to do it. "I can handle one meeting, just as long as I am read in. Don't want to go into anything blind."

Turning toward Buck, Casey is a bit stunned by his response, which Buck can understand. After the ambush breakfast with Dom, he was in shock, rocked to his core, and it showed on the young man's face. His discomfort was written over his entire body when he spoke to Boden and Casey earlier. "Are you sure, Buck?"

Buck doesn't have any interest in any undercover work, especially using his own name. He simply wants to find his place in 51—avoiding Kelly until the memory of the kiss dies- and get his grove back. Besides, as long as Adam doesn't surprise him anymore with Dom meetings, he can handle it. "Yes."

"You don't have to do this," Boden throws out. "No pressure as you weren't trained for this."

Voight shots Buck a smug grin, which pieces right through him. "Buckley is a former Navy Seal. I'm sure he can handle himself. Right, Kid?"

Buck can feel Casey and Boden's eyes zeroing on him as the words 'Navy Seals' and 'Kid' echo in his head. Like before, Buck never meant to hide it, but it just kind of happened, between him feeling like a failure for his inability to box his emotion and no one believing he could obtain the famous Trident. "I got it. Just as long as I'm not kept in the dark. Besides, it's one meeting." He says, sternly.

Boden's eyes linger before he turns his attention back to Voight. "Very well, but I need to be kept in the loop. If you need any additional assistance from Buckley, I will be informed." To make a point, he stands, hand on his hip. "If at any point Buckley feels uncomfortable, I'm ending this. If at any point feel like I feel this is going sideways, I am ending this. If anything feels fishy, I'm ending this." He points down sharply at the desk. "I don't-"

"We get it." Adam cuts off.

"No problem. We will be in consistent communication." Voight says, while shooting Adam a look, as he gets to his feet. "See we can work together."

Boden and Voight exchange a few more words before Voight and Adam make their exit, leaving Buckley alone with Boden and Casey. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" Casey asks.

"As long as I don't end up in a gun fight," Buck answers, honestly, as he throws up some jazz fingers. He hasn't touched a gun since leaving the Navy and he has no interest in picking up a gun again. "I can do a meeting. Just as long as it isn't an ambush." He pauses, puffing. "That was the issue last time. It was surprised, unexpected… With my history and being i-isolated at my old fire station, it hit harder than it should." It all comes down to that, doesn't it? His trauma. Trauma. Trauma. Trauma. His long list of traumas. Traumas from his childhood and his horrible parents. Trauma from his time in the service. Trauma from Aidan. Trauma from firefighting. Trauma from the truck on his leg. God, the list just goes on and on. With all of that, it makes sense that he took the surprised meeting with Dom shook him. There's only so much a person can handle.

Both Boden and Casey's eyes widen at the statement. They turn to each other for a second, sharing a meaningful look. "That makes…ah…sense." Casey speaks pensively, as he quickly masks his surprise.

"Understandable." Boden asks, somberly. "I'll make sure it does not happen again."

"Thank you, Sir." Buck nods and turns toward the door. He does his best to silence the whispers in his head. If he thinks about them too much, he doesn't know where he will end up. "If that is all?"

"It is." Boden replies.

Casey turns slightly. "A Navy Seal, Buck?"

Buck, pausing, looks over his shoulder and purposely meets Casey's eyes in an attempt to judge his Captain's amazement. In his lifetime, he received many different reactions. Some are disbelief. Some are downright rude. A few do believe it, but it's hard to compute a goofy Evan Buckley as a Seal. Buck can give people that, even if it hurts. So, is Casey shocked that him, Evan Buckley, made it? Or just surprise in general? "A life time ago, Captain." Buck replies not seeing any disbelief, most like admiration. With deep breath and a small smile, he exits and heads toward the door.

*O*O*

Forgoing a shower for now—too distracted-, Kelly sits in his recliner and tries his best to ignore the meeting in Boden's office, as he focuses on his team of idiots. Okay, they aren't idiots, loveable fools more like it, but man, he wonders about them at times. Right now, Capp and Tony are attempting to… well, Kelly isn't too sure what they're trying to do with that boot. Honestly, Kelly has no interest in finding out what, as that usually ends up with his head hurting. "Should we be scared?" he directs at Cruz, who looks just as confused.

Cruz, who has been ignoring the two, glances over his shoulder and just smiles. He bobs his head back and forth, tossing the question around in his head. "Probably, but I'm sure it will be fine. What is the worst they can do?"

The lieutenant panders that thought for a second, forcing his glaze to Cruz. "Plenty."

A second goes by before he grudgingly spits out, "True." Cruz meets Kelly's eyes and holds it for a second before he goes, "I should probably check on them before they set the firehouse on fire."

"Isn't that Herrmann's job?" Stella shots out as she steps out onto the floor. She shots Kelly a warm smile and a wave.

From somewhere inside the station, there's a miffed shout from a certain lieutenant. "I heard that!"

Kelly shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak, but when he spots Voight and Ruzek walking out of the firehouse, his mouth snaps shut, and he hops to his feet. His thought swirling, he takes a few mindless steps forward, his eyes focused on the man. The two CPD officers pay no attention to the firefighters as they head to their vehicles, chatting among themselves. For Kelly, they're walking away far too comfortable, their shoulders high; though, he can admit that anything short of Boden's foot up their ass is far short of his likening.

"You okay over there?" Stella asks, stepping back to Kelly. "Your eye is twitching." She playfully pokes at the side of his face.

Startled, Kelly bats Stella's hand away gently. "What?" he utters loudly.

"You just seemed off all day. Is everything okay?"

Short answer, no. Kelly is not okay. He hasn't been okay since Buck bolted from the car the night before. He has no idea what to make of the short yet powerful kiss, which is driving him nuts. No matter how many hours pass, he can still feel the slight warm tingle of Evan's lips on his. That kiss—even the very thought of it—sends warmth through his entire body, and he cherishes that sensation, but on the other hand, it leaves him in a daze, him not knowing what to do with that. He just can't forget it; however, if Buck wants to, Kelly will. "Yea, just wondering about those two." He nods toward Voight and Ruzek.

Stella, her eyes narrowing, follows his glaze to the officers. "I am sure whatever it is, Boden won't let it get out of hand."

That is what Kelly is hoping for, but a part of him thinks it's too late, especially when he spots Buck a few moments later, looking like a kicked puppy. The ex-Floater is standing at his full height, but there's something on his shoulder that worries the lieutenant. His first intent is to rush to his side and check in, but something stops Kelly in his tracks. What is he supposed to say to Evan? With the kiss still lingering, he doesn't want to make Buck uncomfortable. "I have faith in Boden." And while he hates to admit it, he can trust Voight to some degree as that man will protect those under his commands.

"But if you ever need to talk, Kelly, I am here." Stella adds, spotting the concern on his face. "Or we can always toss a few drinks together."

Off in the distance—at the end of the driveway-, Buck takes out his cellphone and stares idly at the screen. It's too far to make out the expression on his face, but Kelly can tell it isn't a smile. Kelly takes a step back and shakes his head, as he puts on a smile. "Excuse me for a second." He spots Casey in front of the dispatch and makes his way toward him, without waiting for a response from Stella. "Cas, can we chat?"

*O*O*

Casey shuts the door to his office, turns to his desk, and motions to his bed as he leans against his desk. "I assume this is about Buck?" He hums, raising his hand up to silence Kelly. "Don't let your panties get twisted. I won't call it fine, but we talked it out and Boden is keeping a very close eye on it."

The analyzing look his best friends gives him shoots right through Kelly, and it's almost like Casey can see all of his secrets, not that Kelly keeps many things from him. However, for now, he has avoided telling Casey about the kiss, though that is more to the fact that his tongue feels like a brick. He can't wrap his tongue around the word 'Kiss'. "Buck isn't a cop. He shouldn't be dragged into whatever this is." He throws his arms up, his anger and frustration rolling off him.

"Calm down. We're all on the same page." Huffing, Casey folds his arms across his chest. "While Buck and I came in late for the conversation, Boden and I made that clear."

Kelly bites down the inside of his cheeks. There're a million things he wants to ask, but he settles with, "How is Buck with all of this? I know it surprised him when Ruzek ambushed him with that 'meeting'."

Casey, narrowing his eyes, takes a moment to answer, as he collects his thoughts. "He says he's okay with it, but you'll have to talk with him. Something tells me he'll be more honest with you than us."

Kelly exhales, the image of Buck bolting flashes before his eyes. It's all very interesting how fast Buck and him clicked and how normal it felt-feels. It's also a badge of honor for the lieutenant that Buck feels safe enough to open up. Suddenly, the words explodes out from him. "Buck kissed me." he shoots out, his entire body shaking. At first, the world stops, and the temperature drops 20 degrees. Next, he's met with silence, a stunned silence, as Matt's facial expression bounces between several emotions, which drives Kelly crazy. A minute goes by before Kelly demands, "Say something."

The Captain's mouth opens and shuts a several times before it snaps shut and he settles with, "Did you like it?"

Exhaling, Kelly turns away from Casey's scrutinizing glaze and glowers at the wall. The simple answer is yes, but simple doesn't exist in this world, not with Buck pulling away like he has been burnt. To admit it will hurt, and yet, he wants to scream it from the roof top like some stupid romance movie. Taking another deep and shaky breath, Kelly struggles to get the heavy words out, and his throat chokes on them. Casey waits patiently for Kelly's answer, eyeing the lieutenant's chest as he takes a few deep breaths. It takes a few attempts before he swallows deeply and goes, "yes."

"Okay." Casey states after a deep breath.

"Just okay?! I got kissed by a guy and liked it. Liked it! And I only get an okay? An okay?" Kelly asks, getting heated, his face blood red. "A damn okay?" He throws his arms up in the air.

Matt narrows his eyes and studies the panic that lined Kelly. "Sure, it's a bit shocking that Kelly- the ladies' man—Severide is into a man, but…" He shakes his head and lets out a full body laugh. "I've been watching you ogle Buck for a while now. While it's a bit shocking, I knew it was only a matter of time. You grinned like an idiot whenever he's around." He pauses, tossing an idea around in his head. "So, is it all men or just Buckley?"

Four seconds pass before Kelly huffs gently and spits out. "Buck. Just Buck."

Matt, confused, nods and eyes the loopy expression on his best friend's face. "So, what is the issue?"

The issue?! A single issue? As to imply that there is only one issue? There're so many issues, but mainly, Buck bolted from him after the kiss and is currently keeping a distance... Or rather, it feels like it. Between back-to-back calls, Kelly hasn't been able to get two words in with the man. Sure, some of it can be explained as a busy day, but Buck has very pointedly avoided his glaze, looking anywhere else but him. "He told me to forget the kiss and didn't allow me to respond. He literally jumped out of my car to avoid me." Besides the ending, the day had been perfect, the smiles on Buck's face breathtaking, and a part of him breaks, thinking about how it ended with Buck avoiding him.

His eyes shifting to the bunk room, Casey stares at the few tired firefighters, who chose to lay down for a quick nap. It may still be a bit early, but you have to get the sleep in when you can. "It sounds like you need to have a conversation with him."

Kelly groans viciously, bordering on the edge of pain. "What am I supposed to say to him?" He snapes as he throws his arms up the air and takes a large step away from Casey.

The Captain tilts his head to the side and gives Kelly a long-calculated stare. "Just be honest with him. You know what you want, and while we don't know what Buck's going through, he did kiss you. It wasn't an accident." He pauses. "He's probably embarrassed, ashamed of himself. Considering everything he…" He stops himself dead in his thoughts.

Whipping around at the abrupt silence, Kelly stares at Casey, his expression blank. It doesn't take long for Kelly to determine why. Matt is keeping Buck's confidence, he reasons to himself. Kelly wouldn't expect anything else from the Captain. "Buck told me everything." He isn't sure what exactly Buck told Casey, as his conversation with the ex-floater was tough for Buck to get it out. However, he knows Casey knows some of it.

At first, Casey's looked skeptical, his eyes picking apart Kelly's expression for any kind of deceit, but it doesn't last before a gently smile starts to form. "Good. Glad he opened up to someone."

Kelly agrees with that wholeheartedly. While Buck needs all the friends he can get, he's grateful he can be that trustful friend to Evan. "He needs friends more than whatever I am going through."

"While I can't deny that, you still need to be open with him. Talk with him." Casey speaks. "An honest conversation."

"I will." With a renewed determination, Kelly nods.

*O*O*

For the next hour, Kelly keeps a vigilant eye out for Buck, but that man is exhibiting how squirrelly he can be, which isn't too surprising. That man can be very squirrelly. Buckley has been keeping a wide berth, sticking with Ritter and Gallo, and strategically leaving the room when Kelly steps too close. The first time it happens, Kelly doesn't even have time to move an inch before Buck comes up with some excuse and leaves. Besides Casey, no one else seems to have noticed, too engrained into their own conversation. However, it repeatedly happens every time Buck spots Kelly: departing the room immediately. At first, Kelly has the urge to hog tie that man, and he is this close in doing so, but Casey, deadpanning, tells him that's illegal.

"Sev…." Matt, amused, shakes his head. "That's how you get arrested. Not visiting you in jail."

Kelly grins. "For some people, that is foreplay." The words just flow from his mouth, and his thoughts turn dirty.

Casey's face scrunches up. "Kelly, Urgh!" he otters, painfully, as he waves his best friend off and walks away. "There are certain images that I never want to imagine and that is one of them."

Initially, Kelly didn't intend for that to be so sexual, but it get his head spinning, and by spinning, he means random images of ropes and Buck popping up, which is the last think he needs right now. "Love you too." After sarcastically waving off his best friend, Kelly continues on his mission to find and corner Buck. He starts to take another lap around the entire station house, though only taking a step, until he spots Buck with Brett and Foster smushed together on the bench in the back of the Ambo. Brett is showing Buck the setup while Foster watches and adds comments from the side. There's a smile shared between the three, a bubbly chatter, and Kelly can't help but feel jealous and envious. Stop it. He tells at himself. Shaking his head, he tosses out those thoughts and makes his way over to the three.

Buck's head pops up at the sound of Kelly's footsteps—the lieutenant surprised that Buck can hear his steps over Brett and Foster. The world narrowing, their eyes met and Buck freezes. A long second passes, their eyes locked, before Buck suddenly looks away and clumsily wipes his hands on his leg, murmuring something to Brett and Foster before he makes the effort to stand. However, the second he gets to his feet, the bell rings, kicking everyone into action.

*O*O*

The call is simple, and they're back at the station in no time, though Kelly isn't any luckier with cornering Buck. Ritter, Gallo and Buck—pointedly ignoring Kelly- go directly into the kitchen to prepare a complicated dinner, the day flying past them. Any attempt of drawing Buck away seems pointless and utterly impossible with Ritter and Gallo bookending him. Honestly, Kelly has no interest in pulling Buck out, a mile long smile gracing his face. He can't hear what the trio are saying, but he doesn't want to disturb the ex-Floater, who currently taste testing something on his finger. Instead, he just sits back and waits, though he doesn't sit on his ass for long.

Being 51, there's no down time, and they receive two more calls before the night is up, kicking them into action. By the time they get back, night has fallen, and everyone is exhausted, dead on their feet. With the dinner forgotten, a few immediately hop into the shower, while the others fall into bed. With a heavy exhaustion lining his bones, Kelly decides against bothering the yawning Buckley and heads straight to his bed, but when he sees Buck sneak out of the bunk room, Kelly waits a few seconds before he jumps to his feet and sneaks out of his officer quarters and tiptoes out. For the most part, no one pays any attention to him except the lone pair of eyes: Stella. She gives him a light, warm smile.

Returning the smile, Kelly exits the bunk room and heads to the apparatus floor, following the sound of Buck's footsteps. In the light dim, he scans the quiet floor for Buck, and for a second, he believes his luck has run out—not that he had any today regarding Buck, but suddenly, he sees the tail end of Buck disappearing into the coat room. While he doesn't get a glimpse of his darling face, Kelly knows that ass from anywhere. Okay, that sounds a bit creepy…. Or a sign that he has been staring at Buck's ass too much.

Shaking his head, Kelly quickly crosses to the close the door of the turnout room. He scans the floor before he steps into the small room and closes the door behind him. It latches loudly, the clicking stretching across the small room, and startles the Ex-Floater, who looks up like a deer in headlights. "Hey, Evan." Kelly gives him a soft wave.

Said man stiffs up and slowly turns around, his face bright red. "Kel—Lieutenant Severide," He shutters.

"Kelly," Kelly corrects softly as he gives Buck a gentle smile.

Buck takes a shaky breath. "D-Did you need something?"

While Kelly isn't a fan of Buck's nerviness, at least, he isn't cowering, asking what he has done wrong. "Just want to talk."

In an instant, the color completely drains from Buck's face. He opens his mouth then closes it and opens it again, which he repeats several times. Then suddenly, he goes stiff, and his face goes completely blank. "T-this is about the kiss."

"Yes."

Buck twists away, his head down and his eyes on the ground. He croaks. "I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry. It…I…Am…" That's all the words Buck is able to get out… Well, more specifically, that's the only thing Kelly can make out, everything a mumble.

Kelly watches the total melt down in front of him—Buck's rocking back and forth on his feet- for a second before his own feet started to move beneath him, closing the distance between them in no time. He barely recognizes the sound of his own footsteps, his focus only on the panicky man in front of him. "Evan." He states gently but firmly. The younger man stops, his eyes large and wet when they met Kelly's, which breaks his heart, but he doesn't give Buck the chance to respond or him time to think. He grabs Buck by the shoulder, pulls him close and plants a kiss to Buck's warm lips.

At first, Buck goes stiff and stares into Kelly's eyes, mouthing something against his lips, but after a few awkward seconds, he closes his eyes and leans into the kiss. With Buck returning the kiss, everything nerve in the lieutenant is on fire and Kelly is loving every minute of it, especially when Buck's fist ball up in his polo shirt, his nails scraping his skin. With his chest airy and tight, he doesn't know what heaven is, but this feels close.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18: The Kiss 2.0

Chapter Text

Chapter 18:

The Kiss 2.0

Los Angeles

A number of things are flying through Maddie's head, her heart racing, and she can't process any of it before another pops up in her head. Then the thoughts tangle together, creating a jumbo mess; however, there're two constants in her life: Evan is her brother, and he loves her. No matter what happens between them, they'll always be family, there for each other. So, when she sees the email from Evan, her heart soars, and she's filled with butterflies, hundreds of butterflies. Each symbolizes a thought and wish she could tell him. There're so many things she wants to say, questions she needs answer. However, she forces those thoughts down and a small, strained smile to her face. This is about him not her. This is about how he is doing.

A part of her relaxes reading these emails, knowing her brother isn't wandering around aimlessly and heartbroken. Buck is back at his dream job as a firefighter, saving lives, even if it is in a different city. He's living again, and while it may sting that it isn't here in LA with her, a heavy weight has been lifted off her shoulder. She can breathe again! Life feels almost normal… well, not counting her unborn child. Rubbing her stomach, she, with a smile, rereads the emails from her brother. Her brother came to her asking for advice on his love life, and that's what she's going to do. Pushes back all of her intriguing, yet uncomfortable questions out of her mind, she asks about the man Buck has kissed.

Her chest swells thinking about how adorable Buck is when he goes all sweet on someone, and no, she isn't referring to how he is around one-night stands. No, she's referring to how he gets when he is around someone he likes: him stammering on and on on random stuff, the bright red that extends all the way down, his clumsiness, his stuttering, etc. When Buck and Eddie were doing whatever they were doing, Maddie couldn't help but beam. Hen and Howard may have poked fun at it—gossiping like old ladies- when the boys weren't looking, but she loved watching them. And now, knowing Buck fancies a fellow firefighter again, she can picture him in her head around the firehouse: her brother—though she can't confirm it—is completely red in the face and stammering off a loveable idiot as he tries to avoid walking into wall.

Everything disappearing, she falls into older, mischievous sister mode, and suddenly, she has to know everything. She means everything and anything. How did they meet? Is there a cute meet story? What does this man look like? She has so many questions, and honestly, what else is a big loving sister to do? If she can't tease him, what is the point? It is her job. Plus, talking to Evan is the best medicine there is, his goofy self always bringing a smile to her face, and there's nothing else she wants to do or needs to do. God, she can imagine all of the different shades of reds blending on his face as if she is standing right next to him. Teasing Buck about his love life makes her heart swell with love, and she is going to hold tight on to that.

However, her stomach drops when Buck replies back with:

Buck: And hey, enough about that. How are you? How are you and Chimney?

It is follows by:

Buck: Are you and Chim still cute and adorable?

The world comes to a screeching halt, and she stops in her steps, her arms shaking and her legs like Jell-O. Her phone is an unexpected anchor in her hands, it almost sliding out of her hands. Her playful older sister mood vanishes, and everything rushes back, aimed at her like a missile. Maddie is ill, her fighting back the urge to vomit. Sitting—more like plummeting—back into her sofa, Maddie lets her phone drop, allowing it to slip between the cushions. An agonizing shudder runs through her body as she thinks about the father of her unborn baby and the baby that she loves with her entire heart. Her heart skips when she thinks about the man that she loves—yes, still loves. Or rather, her pre-lawsuit life.

Maddie takes a deep, shaky breath, her eyes dropping to her now dark phone—only a corner sticking up between the cushions. Her mind goes back to Buck's messages, her mind flashing to Howard's apologetic expression, and her mouth goes dry. Though she's alone in her apartment, her mouth opens and closes several times as if to speak to someone. As if Buck is there. She has no idea what to say to her brother, not wanting to unload on him when he has finally reached out. He doesn't need to worry about her. "But why does he want us together?" she mumbles to herself, but then again, Buck has always been team Madney. He was—still is it seems—their biggest cheerleader, so excited for them that it hurts. God, she loves him for that. Instinctively rubbing her stomach, she weakly smiles thinking about her brother's big heart. He has one of the biggest hearts she has ever seen. "Your Uncle Buck has such a big heart." She whispers as she stares down at her round stomach.

Stiff jaw, her mind wanders back to Howard and their relationship… or whatever the current status is. God, she still doesn't know what to do about them. Her pervious words, said in anger, echo back to her: "I don't want to hear from you until I hear from Evan." She had told-yelled that at Howard, her anger and pain too great to be around him, and while that promise was set aside when she found out she was pregnant, the sentiment is the same: she doesn't—didn't?—want to talk to him until she heard from her brother. But now that she has, Maddie doesn't know what she wants.

Athena's earlier words loudly echo in her head, "He's a grown man, and we need to trust that he can take care of himself, while we take care of ourselves. You have to take care of yourself, Maddie. You can't set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm, especially someone who isn't here." While it hurts to hear it, she needed to hear it. She can't base her life with Howard on Buck, and she needs to decide what is best for her and her baby. At least now, she doesn't have to worry about Buck and have that weight on her shoulders. She can finally give Howard a fair shot.

*O*O*

Maddie shifts uncomfortably on the familiar sofa, her fingers tracing a small cycle into her stomach. Normally at this time, Howard would sit on the other end of a similar yet different sofa, a good two feet between them. He would have his right hand out stretched, palm up as an open nonverbal invite to her. While her eyes would bounce to his hand every so often, she would never reach for it, her mind whispering traitorous thoughts into her ear. However, she called off their normally scheduled couple therapy session and scheduled an emergency session with her personal therapist. Howard, though he was very understanding, didn't hide his disappointment completely and it leaked through. However, as Maddie sits anxiously on the sofa alone, she shockingly finds herself missing his comforting presence. Therapy is torture at times.

"Tell me what's going on. Did something happen?"

Picking at her nails, she heavily sighs. "Yes." Her shoulders are so stiff that pain shoots down her back.

"Why don't we talk about it. Is it something you want to talk about?" The therapist's question goes over Maddie's head, which doesn't go on notice by the therapist. He observes her blank expression and allows a few minutes of complete silence to pass with only his pin tapping. "Is everything okay, Maddie?" Doctor Perez, the therapist, softly asks. Just like with every session, the therapist is gentle but firm with Maddie. "You're quiet today. Anything you want to share."

"Uh…um," Maddie utters, her head popping up. Her tongue is heavy, everything tangled. She's unsure of how to voice it even if she knew what to say.

"Maddie?" Perez prompts.

Maddie takes a deep breath, as she tucks in her hands into her lap under her baby bump. Her mouth hangs open for a few seconds before she bites down on her bottom lip, contemplating. A part of her wants to keep Buck to herself, fearing what everyone will say once they learned he reached out. "I…Um…" She unevenly inhales. When the first breath doesn't still her thumping heart, she takes another. "My brother, Evan, reached out to me, and I…" Her mouth snaps shut, and she breathes slowly through her nose before letting it go out her mouth. "I don't know how to feel about it. Don't get me wrong I love my brother, and I'm over the moon that he has reached out, but…" She drifts off, unable to finish her sentence. The words just won't come out. She doesn't know how to voice it.

"You can't hide behind that anger anymore." Perez finishes resolutely.

The idea strikes Maddie hard. "I'm still angry," She tries to protest.

Perez nods. "Which is valid, but it's also valid to say you used it as a tool to hinder your relationship with Howard, used it as a chain to hold you back so you don't have to decide. After a year you had, it's understandable that you would be hiding behind it. Most people would run for the hills."

Maddie immaturely huffs, knowing exactly where he's going with this. "I get it." This has been the topic of many of their sessions, even if that wasn't her intention when she originally set up these meetings. She wanted-wants to work through her complicated feelings toward Howard, and yet, Perez directs her back to Doug, a man she would never like to think about again. It connected he says, and while there's logic to this, it stings to think about Doug for too long. "How can I look at him the same way again?" she asks softly. "I don't…" She cuts herself off and exhales. "I'm not sure where to begin."

"Baby steps." Perez replies. "I know we hear this all the time, but Rome wasn't built in the day. There's no magic switch to get rid of the trauma, and there's nothing wrong with you if you can't bounce back. We tend to be rougher on ourselves than others, saving the cruelest things for ourselves, and we believe it without fail." He pauses. "We humans are complex beings, who need tender love and care. We need to remember that."

This isn't the first time she has heard this, but it helps to hear it. "I know."

"Good."

Maddie takes a deep shaky breath. "Where do I start?"

"We." Perez corrects, delicately. "You aren't alone in this. You will never be alone. However, before we start walking in a random direction, let's start with two goals and make a game plan on how we get there. Sounds good?"

Goals sound good, but Maddie is still lost. Where does she start? "Yes."

Perez nods. "Goal One: to see yourself as worthy of love." He waits for a response. "How you feel about that?"

The word 'worthy' bounces around in her head. "Okay."

"And goal two: put yourself first." His eyes are zeroed in on the soft twitches on her face.

Those seem like simple tasks, but for Maddie, they feel unscalable, and her chest goes light. She feels like an idiot for not doing it already. "Put myself first…" she repeats slowly.

"Yes." Perez replies, taking note of her confused, perplexed face. "Maybe, this will help. Why are you hesitating in telling your brother about Howard and you? Who are you protecting? Him?" He hums. "What are you worried about? Worried about burdening him? What about you?"

Maddie strokes her stomach. "He has already been hurt so much." She says, breathing through her mouth. After everything he has been though, she doesn't want Buck to blame himself for the state of the relationship. Yet…. At the same time, it's more than that. She doesn't want to admit it as she doesn't want it to be true. "But it's more complicated."

"Let's talk that out."

*O*O*

After every therapy session, Maddie has a strong urge to drink, and honestly, she would if it isn't for the little peanut doing flips in her uterus. "Ssshh," she hushes as she sways back and fore on her toes. "I know. I know." Though Howard and her relationship is strained, and they only spend a few hours a week together, the little girl is already a Daddy's girl, calming instantly at the sound of his voice. Maddie would be totally jealous if it isn't so damn cute. When she forgets she's mad at him, her heart swoons at the large smile on Howard's face as he speaks to the baby. No matter happens, that man will be a good father, even if he wasn't always a good friend or co-worker to Evan.

Maddie takes a deep breath and steps to the kitchen counter for her phone. She had set the phone there when she came back from therapy as she tried to process her thoughts. It has been hours since Buck asked about her and Howard's relationship and her therapy session. And she's just as lost, though the fog isn't as bad. For a few seconds after picking up her phone, her mind spirals, and she goes down a rabbit hole about what this silence is telling Buck before she stops herself. A shiver runs up her arm and her heart quivers. This is the exact thing that Perez warns her about, and while she tries to deny it, he has a point. She has to stop trying to protect Buck and start prioritizing herself, which is harder than she realizes. She always puts Buck first, protecting him from an early age, and while she will always be there for him, she has to put herself first.

Her hands sweaty, she lights up the screen and opens up her email, bringing up her last emails from Buck. After a lack of a response from her, there is another message from Buck.

Buck: Is everything okay?

Perez's word flashes before her once more and her chest goes tight. Maddie knows her gut reaction is to buck, but no, she needs to stop protecting Buck at the cost of her own mental health and comfort. Yes, she loves her brother, and she needs his support as much as he needs her. With a deep breath, she starts to type a response before stopping a second later. Exhaling, she deletes what she has, not liking what she had. Puffing out her cheeks, she takes another deep breath before she starts again. This time, she gets it out.

Maddie: No. sh*t has hit the fan, and while I don't want you to worry about it, I am not going to hide it from you. I am not going to lie to you. I am not going to baby you at my expense. Yet, it isn't your fault. This is just the fallout of the situation. Fallout of people's reactions to the lawsuit. So no, Howard and I aren't doing okay. I did not like how he handled the situation. How anyone handled the situation, but you are my brother. I will always love you, and I don't know how to get past the fact that Howard saw you hurting and did nothing. That being said, I am not sure I want to end things, especially with the baby on the way. (Yes, the baby. You're going to be an uncle.) That may change in the future as we will have to see if therapy will help us. Help us work through the pain. But please don't feel guilty about it. Please focus on yourself.

Maddie, her vision going blurry, blows out as she hits send, fighting back the tears. This isn't how she wants to tell Buck about the baby, but this entire situation isn't something she wants. Not allowing herself to bath in regret, her mind drifts to Christopher, the wonderful little boy who is suffering just as greatly, and she starts another email. She will never try to direct or influence Buck's next step, but Christopher needs to hear from him just as much as she does.

Maddie: Also, I don't know the full story between you and Eddie, though it will not change my mind regarding him, but please reach out to Christopher. That boy, who has been struggling in your absence, needs to hear from you. Everyone knows it, including Eddie.

*O*O*

Chicago

Seconds pass before Buck processes what's happening: Kelly's warm, chapped lips capturing his, while a warm, coarse hand worming way up beneath his shirt. A large shiver follows close behind the sensual touch. His emotions bubble up inside of him just beneath the skin, while his heart is about to explode. Yet, a moment clicks by before Buck leans into the kiss, his fingers curling tightly into the front of Kelly's shirt. Suddenly, the coat room is on fire, as the kiss turns passionate and hungry. At first, Buck isn't sure what to do as his kissing style depends on who he's kissing, although most of the time he allows his partner to set the pace. (He enjoys being manhandled. Who doesn't at times?) So, either Buck will pin his partners against the wall, demanding obedience with his tongue, or he will fall to his knees and follow every command like a good little boy.

With Kelly, Buck is the latter and just melts against the older man, following his every direction and nonverbal command. He leans into every warm touch and follows every motion, his blood pumping under Kelly's hands. Whether Buck is Kelly's first guy or not, the lieutenant's skill is showing as he masterfully explores Buck's mouth with his tongue, while he maneuvers the younger man backwards. Buck doesn't notice at first, not until his back slaps the wall, drawing a light groan deep from his gut, which Kelly eats. All of this goes straight to Buck's groin, his dick twitching in his pants, and now, his pants are extremely tight.

Instinctively, Buck forcefully thrusts his hip forward, smashing their groins together. Just like Buck, Kelly's family jewels are awake, thick, and happy from the current events, and in almost perfect unison, they groan into the other mouths. As their erections rub against each other, hot, intoxicating urges flash up in Buck's spine, the kinds that he hasn't felt before. The kinds that draw Buck right in. The kinds that Buck wants to melt into. The kinds that make him want to rip off his clothes and present his ass to Kelly. A single thought—sh*t—shots through his head as panic starts to kick in. The pure desire in his body and soul scares the living daylights out of him, and his lust fog abruptly clears.

Like he has been burnt, his hands release Kelly's shirt and fly up to him shoulders and pushes him back. It takes a moment to break his lips free of Kelly's, his chest tight. "Kel—Kelly. W-wait… S-top." He squeezes out, completely out of breath.

Like a deer in a headlight, Kelly's hands immediately and tightly drop to his side, and the lieutenant takes a massive step backward. Panic flashes across his eyes for a second before he masks it with a weak, yet tense smile. "sh*t, sh*t." He curses. "I'm so sorry. I didn't-"

"Kelly!" Buck's voice breaks and squeaks. He doesn't like the shame and guilt in Kelly's eyes. In fact, he hates it, as he wants nothing more than to bury himself in Kelly's embrace, but to do so would be a mistake. There're too many unanswered questions. His heart can't take it.

Exhaling slowly, Kelly straightens and squares his shoulders. "Ev…" Evan's name dies on Kelly's tongue as he clocks the look in Buck's face, though Buck doesn't give him a chance to speak.

His face red, Buck squeals out in a slight panic, "y-you kissed me!" There're a million things going through Buck's head, and each is a strike to the heart. "YOU Kissed me." He stabs his chest with a sharp finger. "You're s-straight… I…d- No…" Multiple things try to explode out from his mouth, his tongue in knots, and he isn't even sure of what half of those thoughts are. His "I…" He shakes his head and inhales through his nose. "Why?" his voice cracks. "W-why? After everything?" The world starts to spin as his lungs feel like they are on fire. His heart thumps in chest as he tries to catch his breath.

The stuffiness in Kelly's shoulders disappears and his focuses changes. "Evan," he states sternly. "Take a deep breath. Breathe with me." With his hand, he mimics the breathing motion he wants Buck to copy. "1… 2… 3…" He breathes in deeply. "1…2…2…"

Evan's panic flattens and he stares at Kelly blinking. "You repeated two." He huffs softly.

Kelly grins ear to ear. "I did. What are you going to do about it?"

The playfulness in Kelly's voice throws Buck through a loop and kicks him out of his manic state. Buck takes a step toward Kelly, his eyes drilling into Kelly's eyes. "You know-" He stops himself before going, "I don't understand. W-what was that?"

The expression on the Lieutenant's face changes. "The… kiss? It was a kiss. I'll kiss you again if you want to." Kelly says slowly, a bit confused.

Buck's brain freezes, already feeling the ghost of Kelly's lips. It takes several seconds for his brain to snap out of that day dream, his heart not wanting to leave. However, there are several implications, and he can't allow himself to ponder those thoughts for too long. "Why would you? You're straight and I got pipes!" he squeals again, motioning to his dick.

Kelly almost chokes, his heart pounding. He noticeably coughs as he takes a few seconds to catch his breath. "I-I think that's up for a debate." The smile that stretches across his face is breath taking and beautiful. Buck's already shaky knees almost buckle beneath him just looking at it. Why is the man wasting his time on Evan? "I don't know what I would call it just yet—do I need to?-, but I like you, Evan."

The omission startles Buck, his mind in a tail spin. Apart from the panic previously in his gut, a more intense worry creeps up, bringing Buck back to the time that he discovered his sexuality. It was both a confusing and scary time, as he didn't comprehend what he was feeling. If he went off what his parents say it, what he was feeling was wrong and nasty, and at that age, he could only go off what his parents thought and hated himself. Unable to go against his parents, he called it a phase, a phase that he would outgrow. "I…" His tongue is numb. "I'll…No-"

"Evan." Kelly interjects firmly but gently. "I don't know what I'm or whatever you young people call this." He waves to himself, a smile on his face. "But I do know that I like you, Evan, and not as a friend. Definitely not as a friend." He lets out soft, playful huff. "I want to explore this with you if you let me."

The word 'explore' echoes in Buck's head, and their 'date' flashes before his eyes, his chest tight. His cheeks heat up, thinking about how many times he had to pull himself back from jumping Kelly and the time he couldn't hold himself back. God, Buck is so horny for this man. "Kel-" They do not get to finish their conversation as the alarms ring throughout the entire firehouse, jolting everyone awake and kicking everyone into gear.

Kelly doesn't move for a second, his eyes laser force on Buck. "This conversation isn't done." While there's a grin on his face, he is stern and firm. There's no fighting Kelly, that much is clear. Buck, his blood still pumping, thickly gulps before he rushes pass Kelly and heads to the truck, his dick still uncomfortable in his pants. Kelly follows closely behind him, tugging at his own pants. The rest of the house joins them seconds letter, Casey's eyes zeroing in on the two as he makes his way to the truck.

*O*O*

Very rarely does the firehouse sleep thought the night, the alarm sounding most nights for the busy firehouse, and they have to fight back the yawns. Yet, any groaning or moaning stops when they slip into their turnout gear and jump into the trucks, ready for business. No matter the hour or how many hours of sleep under their belts, they're ready to run into a fire without hesitation. However, there's an intense wave of bitterness inside of them when they realize it's a false alarm. False alarms are especially the worst when you have to search the entire building to confirm that it's a false alarm. It's even worse when it's a huge apartment building with over 12 floors and 100 apartments, and Buck is sexually frustrated through it all.

Kelly shoves Buck back, keeping a hold on Buck's shirt, as he seductively articulates Evan's name, his gravelly and husky voice.

Buck does his best to keep his lustful grumbles to himself as Casey and he pair up and go door to door checking for any hint of a fire, announcing themselves every few seconds. With the tingle of Kelly's touch still on his skin and his breath on his ear, it's a battle to keep focus on the task at hand. Get it together, Buckley, he yells at himself as he knocks on the next door. Hearing no answer, he knocks louder, his knuckles rattling on the door. At the lack of the response, something—frustration- roars up inside of him, and when he knocks the third time, he bangs his knuckles against the door. "CFD."

"You are wearing too many clothes." Kelly playfully whines as he pulls at Buck's shirt. "Let-"

Casey straightens up and turns his attention to Buck. "You okay, Buckley?"

His name snaps Buck from his dirty, erotic thoughts, and Buckley whips around, his eyes large. "Yup," he squeals, his voice squeaking. He, his cheeks a tad pinkish, quickly covers the crack in his voice, masking the squeal with a heavy cough. "Just hate false calls." He pauses. "And a bit cranky from the lack of sleep. That's all."

"Same here." Casey replies, eyeing Buck from the corner of his eyes. "Let's keep moving." The two continue their rounds on the floor before going to the next. They continue this until all of the floors are checked and no fire is found. It takes a few hours, but the entire building is clear, and everything is in working order. Each member of the firehouse is cranky when they jump back into their trucks and head back to the station… Well, besides Buck and Kelly who are still wired from their heated make out session.

*O*O*

By the time they get back to the station, the next shift has started to file in—some in uniform already-, waving and smirking at them as the trucks come to a complete stop. "Late night, Captain?" one of the third shift teases.

"Hush it, Lieutenant," Casey shots back, a cheesy, yet irritating grin on his face. Looking a bit crazy, he points a sharp finger at the other man. "Before careful. Don't you want a Q-"

"NOO," The entire firehouse yells, their voice a large roar slapping against the walls and bursting out the doors. Cruz's voice echoes the loudest, adding the "Don't say it. Even if our shift is over, no. Just no!"

Normally, no one, especially Casey, would say the Q word in the firehouse, as that's asking for trouble, but considering it's the end of shift and will be the third shift's problem, Casey has no problem teasing them. Like everyone else on the second shift, they are all extremely tired and grumpy, and sleep is the only thing on their mind. Well, maybe food. "What?" Casey shrugs, innocently. "It's only fair." He rips off his turnoff gear and heads to the coat room. From there, a playful—yet loud banter exploded from the two shifts, and the firehouse is filled with life: one big family… One big family that fights, but there's not one ounce of hate in the building, which just stands out to Buck.

God, Buck loves his house and is so lucky he stumbles into this place. Sure, he can be a firefighter anywhere, but the love in this house is slowly putting him back together. Though, Buck doesn't allow himself to focus too much on that as he spots a determined Kelly staring at him. His blue-green eyes are drilling into him, his intention clears, and the blood is starts to rush to Buck's groin, the heat from earlier rebuilding. In his life, he has kissed and f*cked quite a few people—too many to count-, but none of them can compete with the red-hot flames in his chest. It both scares and excites Buck, who is frozen in place by the intensity of it. His legs are like Jell-O, and it takes all of his remaining strength to stay upright.

"This means war!" Gallo cheers, snapping Buck from his dangerous thoughts.

Whatever war this is, Buck doesn't have the energy to join in. With a deep shakily breath, he shakes his head and turns sharply away from Kelly's heated glaze. As quickly as he can—being the chicken that he is-, he rushes to the locker room for his things, ungracefully running into walls. A nice hot shower crosses his mind, but he pushes that idea right out of his head. He needs to get out of here as soon as possible and hide in the safety of his apartment, a place where he can decompress… decompressed from that…sh*t… from that kiss.

Kelly's words post the kiss float around in Buck's head, bouncing off the side like a tennis ball. Sure, Buck has dreamt about the older man returning his feeling, dreamt about the feel of Kelly's hands on his skin, and yes, there were moments that Buck had to stop himself from jumping a kissing Kelly on their 'date', his feelings too intense, but this is something else. A new reality is slapping Buck in the face, a reality that Buck didn't think was-is possible. He needs to wrap his mind around that first before he does anything. And he can't do that here under Kelly's eyes, eyes that make Buck want to drop his pants. His heart pounding, he's out of the station in five minutes flat, zipping past everyone before anyone can realize. He spots Kelly at the top of the driveway, his eyes cutting right through him. However, Buck doesn't wait, jumping into his jeep.

*O*O*

With a deep breath, Buck swiftly and quickly closes the door to his apartment behind him and collapses against it, landing with a loud fat thump. He takes a few deep—yet shaky- breaths as he relives the memory of Kelly's hand running his hand up his back, Kelly's tongue deep in his mouth. A large, uncontrollable shiver rans down his spine, and an intense wave of hunger and lust fills his belly, his dick twitching in his pants. It almost overwhelms him, his desire so strong and thick. He thought he knew how much he wants and longs for Kelly, but he underestimated how much. It almost knocks him over, his stomach doing never-ending flips.

Door locked and still leaning back against it, Buck—unable to stop himself—unbuckles his pants and reaches for his penis, stroking it a few times. He is already hard, imagining Kelly whispering in his ear and dipping his hand in Buck's pants. His hand wraps around, as he thinks about all the things he wants from the lieutenant. God, he wants that man. Wants him more than anyone else he has ever wanted.

More than Adrian.

More than Miller

More than Abby

More than Eddie

That alone stops the young firefighter's heart in his tracks, his hand freezing, and the astonishing realization hits him like a truck. His feelings for Eddie feel inferior now. Even though he knows Kelly for less time, his feelings are on a different level. Just thinking about the man, Buck's chest is tight, and for several long seconds, Buck's lungs struggle to inflate. The room spins for a moment, his legs trembling, before he, removing his hand from his pants, forces himself to take a deep inhale. For the first few attempts, Buck's lungs fail to expand, and he coughs viciously. Panicking, he grabs at his chest, a death grip on his sweaty CFD shirt. His vision waves, black dancing across his vision, and his stomach threatens to revolt on him. In out. In out, Buckley. He tells himself, replaying the memory of Kelly counting with him.

Finally on his sixth attempt, he's able to catch his breath and he sucks down a hot breath. Though, it takes few minutes for Buck's heart to settle and his world to stop spinning. When it does, he can't move, his legs stiff, and he's feeling a little light headed. By a little, he means a lot as he still tastes Kelly on his tongue. Buck hasn't been able to get Kelly off his tongue or his thoughts, and even during the call, it was there, haunting him. There were so many flashes as what could've been: Kelly ripping Buck's clothes off him, Kelly kissing every inch of his body, Kelly pinning him to the wall f*cking him good, etc.… While he was able to keep those urges under control, they poked out once in fits of irritation, catching Casey's attention. "f*ck," he curses as the hot sensation of Kelly's gentle touch flashes up his spine. Why in the hell is a simple kiss—it isn't a simple kiss—affecting him so much?

After buckling his pants, Buck takes yet another deep breath as he works off his boot, struggling with the right one. He grunts, applying even more pressure at the top of the boot, and his foot twists uncomfortably, forced into an odd angle. Pain ticking up from his ankle, his frustration grows with each failed attempt, which shows as he violently shakes his foot. A growl works its way up his throat before he shallows and practically chokes on it. He hisses and pauses for a second before he tries again. While his emotions are still high, it works, and his boot is sent flying on the next attempt, smacking the wall hard.

The thump echoes through the apartment, and with one foot hovering, Buck freezes in the pose as the next apartment pounds back on the wall. After the pounding stops, he exhales slowly before he gently takes off the second boot, using both hands this time. With his left boot in hand, he crosses the small room to the other before he steps back to the front of the apartment and sets them down by the door, alongside his duffel. Next, his goal is to shower even if he is dead on his feet, but he can't move again and just stands in the middle of the room, his phone heavy in his pocket.

A few minutes pass before Buck manages to reach for his phone. There're two unread messages from Maddie from earlier, arriving after a few hours of silence. He had seen the messages before, but he didn't have the chance to read them, and now, he isn't in the right mindset to do so. Buck glances at Maddie's response for a second but he doesn't read it. Instead, he needs a friend, not a sister… No. He needs her, but he needs someone to put his head on straight. Someone who knows every part of him, including his Navy days. He closes his email and goes to his contacts. Puffing out his cheeks, he scrolls through the names before he finds the ones he wants. When he switched to his new number, he made sure to add this contact. No matter the distance or time, this man is always there for him. With a deep breath, he hits the dial, his heart beating in his ear.

With each ring, Buck's nerves jump, but just when his heart is about to explode, he gets sent to the voicemail. As if he has been dropped on his head, there's a surge of disappointment in Buck's chest when he hears, "You've reached Steve McGarrett. Leave a message after the beep."

The firefighter huffs. "Hey…um…Steve. It's Buck…sh*t, Evan. It's Evan." He puffs, awkwardly. "Sorry… Yea, I know it has been a while, but hey, life. Stupid life…" With his freehand, he does jazz fingers. "I just want to check in, you know? Just… need to talk… Um…well. Anyhow, later." While he ends the call feeling like a complete fool, it doesn't mask his disappointment.

Though, he doesn't get to sit in that disappointment for along as an unexpected knock on the door echoes throughout his apartment, startling the blonde. The knocks are loud and purposeful, leaving no doubt that the person on the other side of the door is on a mission. The person knocks loudly for 30 seconds before they stop for 20 seconds. A few seconds later, the person knocks again before saying loudly, "Evan. It's me. I know you are here. Open up."

Buck almost trips over his own feet. "K-Kelly," he croaks. Why is Kelly? sh*t. sh*t. sh*t. Why did Kelly have to follow him? Why?

*O*O*

A few things pass through Kelly's mind as he spots Buck making a beeline to his Jeep. Some of them are pure annoyance at Evan avoiding him again, while others are sexual. At first, Kelly wonders if it's best to let Buck leave: a cornered animal is never safe. However, he tosses that idea as soon as Buck speeds off. It doesn't take a genius to know that allowing Buck to stew in his thoughts is a bad idea, Kelly figuring that out within days of knowing the man. He's sure that he isn't the only one to come to this conclusion, considering the side view he gets from Casey. His best friend has come to the same assumption.

With a deep breath, Kelly follows the newest 51 firefighter to his apartment, his heart pounding. While the state of the neighborhood doesn't go unnoticed (something he noticed the first time), he steps out of his car and makes his way up the steps on a mission. Kelly can't tell you how long it takes him to climb the steps as time seems to morph around him. At times, it feels like hours have passed in a matter of seconds, a possible future flashing before his eyes, and yet, a second later, time crawls, ants passing him by. Puffing his cheeks, Kelly shakes his head and quickens his steps.

He fights the urge to run, doubts popping up in his head (If Buck was interested, he wouldn't have run away, right?), as he's not a child regardless of the youthful butterflies flipping in his chest. However, the group of men at the end of the hallway clips those butterflies' wings, and the dauntless Lieutenant Severide comes out, his firefighter mask up. They eye him all the way down to Buck's door, which Kelly feels in his spine. While it's true you don't know the kind of person a person is just by looking at them—he would never judge someone on looks-, there's a limited number of reasons to stare at someone like that. Though Kelly—he has a healthy ego—knows he can turn heads, he knows that isn't why he is getting the stare down.

Shaking his head, he faces the door and knocks heavily, everything else disappearing. He isn't pounding on the door yet, but it is loud enough that the neighbors can hear. So far, there's no answer from the other side of the door; however, seeing Buck's jeep, he knows the man is here. No doubt, he is being Buck and thinks he can avoid Kelly. "Evan. It's me. I know you're here. Open up." He pounds. He pauses, straining his ear for footsteps. At first, he thinks Buck's going to ignore him and contemplates how long he's going to wait, but the door opens a second later, revealing a very shocked and red Buck. "Evan."

"K-Kelly, what are you doing here?"

From the corner of his eyes, Kelly glances down the hallway. His eye switches as he catches the men's cold stare. "Can you let me in? The guys down there are staring at me, and it isn't with sexy eyes." He grins, halfway awkwardly.

Buck doesn't even poke his head out to look before he moves to the side to let him in. The redness in his cheeks dies down slight, annoyance flashing across his eyes. "Probably not." He says, his tone stiff. "Come in."

Kelly angles himself and slides by the tall blonde. "Thanks," he smiles, stopping a few steps in. As if he has stepped into some secret, highly classified location, he takes a good look around Buck's small apartment, taking note of everything. The apartment is mostly empty, his items sparse. Kelly isn't sure what he was expecting, but man, this place feels hollows and lonely. Where is all of Buck's stuff?

With a deep exhale, Buck slowly and gently closes the door. His eyes firmly and squarely on the wooden door (his back to Kelly), he takes a moment before he closes his eyes and asks, "H-how can I help you, Lieutenant." His voice is shaky.

Kelly keeps back a groan from hearing his title. "Kelly." He corrects, looking over his shoulder. "This is no way, shape or form work related."

Buck inhales and exhales. "I…um…" He shakes his head and turns slightly, glancing at Kelly's face before quickly turning away, his eyes on the right wall. "You…um..." He bites down on his bottom lip. "R-regret it?"

The sadness and anguish in Buck's voice strikes Kelly like a closed fist. "Regret it?" he asks, shocked. "No!" He states firmly and loudly. "I stand by what I did and said." The heated kiss flashes before his eyes, warmth flooding him. "I wouldn't mind a repeat. However, I'm not here for that per se, and you seem a little wobbly. I'm here to ask you out. A real date." While that non date felt like a date, it wasn't a date, and Kelly wants to take Buck out on a true date. To wine and dine him. To show him that he is worth it. Evan has a habit of running, and while taking things slow isn't Kelly thing, he will do it for Buck. He will do whatever it takes to show Buck that he is worth it.

Turning fully to Kelly, Buck's mouth is wide open, his surprise written clear as day on his face. "A d-date?"

"Yes, a date. A real date." Kelly gives Buck one of his most cheesy smiles. "And hopefully more kisses."

Buck's lips do that cute, adorable quirks of his, twitching and contorting into odd shapes. Shapes that Kelly doesn't even know is possible. "You l-like me? And you want to go on a date with me? Me?" he asks, japing a sharp finger into his chest.

Kelly narrows his eyes, his mind glitching on him for a solid minute. Did he not pin Evan to a wall and stick his tongue down his throat? Did his hands not snake their way up his back? Or did Kelly make that all up in his head? Kelly pauses, replaying that make up session in his head. His chest goes light and his dick twitches. Nope, it happened. "Yes, Evan. I want to go on a date with you."

"Okay." The response is soft, barely above a whisper. It takes a second for it to click.

"Okay?" Kelly utters, unbelieving what he has just heard.

Evan nods, his hand shaking. "Yes, okay."

Just okay?... No, stop Kelly. Baby steps. Kelly wants nothing more than to pull Buck into another kiss, but he doesn't want to scare the young man. Right now, he's a deer in headlights, and any sudden movements will send him running for the hills. "Good." He beams. "I'll send you the details." Kelly wants to throw out a random date and time (AKA tonight) before Evan can change his mind, but no, he needs to plan this date right down to the second as he needs this date to be perfect. Perfect! He needs to make sure this date says everything that Buck needs to hear.

Buck, stiffly, nods clumsily. "Sounds good."

"Good." Kelly has to force his feet to move toward the door, as he wants to stare at those pretty blue eyes for a few more minutes, but there is heavy exhaustion in his body from the lack of sleep. This excitement can only hide his exhaustion for so long. "I'm going to let you rest now. I think we both are dead on our feet."

"Yup. I can sleep like a baby." Buck says, his eyes smiling.

It seems odd for Kelly to be leaving so soon after getting here, but Kelly doesn't want to overwhelm Evan, and he said what he needed to be said. However, he will add this for good measure, "Listen, Ev. I don't regret any of this, and while you will be my first man, I want to dive right in with you. I want to kiss you, hug you and do all the things with you. I don't care about the lawsuit or anything else. I know the man that you are, and I know that I want to get to know that man. If I have to repeat it over and over again, I will." He pauses. "Okay?"

Buck nods. "Yes."

Kelly awkwardly makes his way past Buck, giving him a soft, warm grin before he makes his way back to his car. Once again, he has to resist the urge to reach out to him and kiss him. While he has no clue how to label himself, there's a hope in his step that hasn't been there before, and there's nothing that can get him down. Nothing. Not even the guys down the hallway giving him a stink eye as he makes his way to the steps. Kelly is on cloud nine, and there is no doubt Casey is going to want to throw him off a cliff when he gets back to the apartment.

Chapter 19: A surprise

Chapter Text

Chapter 19:

A surprise

Los Angeles

She has been asked countless times how things are going, one of the many the after waves of Buck's departure. Her response is always the same, even if it is a lie. "It's okay." Things are far from okay, and while things can never go back to how they were, Athena wants—needs- some normalcy back in their lives. No, she needs some normalcy back in her life. She needs the world to stop spinning. She needs her loving, supportive, happy husband back. She, though not a firefighter, needs her fire family back in one piece. She needs that support and love, which is why she agreed to host a fire family cookout even if she knows it will back fire.

Bobby's smile takes up half his face when she relents. "Really?" he exclaims in total disbelief. His smile is so huge that Athena's face hurt.

For a moment, Athena forgets her anger. "Yes."

At that exact moment, Bobby turns into an event planning Bobby, who has to plan everything down right to the amount of ice in the lemonades. "It has to be perfect." He grins as he rubs his hands together.

It feels almost normal, as Athena watches her husband start his famous checklist. Her chest is filled with a thick, intense fondness for the man she loves with her entire being before she is snapped back to reality a second later. Without the bubbling Buck, this 'family' cookout can never be normal again, his goofiness missing, but she bites down on her tongue before her anger can explode. While the pain still haunts her, she can't be living in the past. She needs to look forward if she wants to move on. She needs to move on. "Just be careful. You know what they say about being perfect." Bobby waves it off and continues on his planning, his pad in hand.

Athena eyes him for a second as he does an inventory on what he has already before her mind wanders. Most days, she doesn't allow her thoughts to linger Buck for too long, but today, he's heavy on the mind. How is he doing? Is he happy? Did he find a nice place to settle down? In the beginning, she did try searching for him, but it was pointless when he was traveling the country, sending postcards. Hard to track a moving man. When the postcards stopped, there was an intense urge to break LAPD protocols and use police resources to track the fool down. However, her therapist—yes, she has one. Who doesn't in this age?—talked her down. If Buck wanted to reach out, he would, and her breaking LAPD protocols wouldn't do her any good. Though Athena wasn't—isn't a fan of that, she focuses on the present and her marriage.

*O*O

For the first time in months, the Grant-Nash house is full of people, though not full of life. It's the exact opposite. The awkwardness and tension in the room is ungodly thick, a strong vice grip on each of their throats, and could be cut with a knife. A crew that was once a tightknit family—ride or die- is now twitchy, anxious, and uneasy, eyeing the other like they're waiting for a sneak attack. It could and can make anyone run for the hills, and unlike the man that she loves, Bobby is hiding behind the grill, already shot down multiple times with heated stares when he painfully tried to get them talking.

Athena does feel for Karen, who is trying her damnest to get the energy levels up. Everyone besides her wife is ignoring her, folding into a corner somewhere. A few of the new firefighters to the 118, who didn't know what they signed up for, took one glance around the house and took refuge outside in the corner furthest of the house. The poor babies are too scared to leave, too scared about leaving a bad impression on the Moody Captain with a massive frown. Eddie, who's nursing a beer, is slantly sitting in the arm chair in the living room, but Athena isn't sure it can be considered sitting as he is almost completely diagonal. She has no idea how he's comfortable like that, but she doubts that's high on his list right now.

Chimney is wedged in a corner furthest from Eddie, his eyes in narrow slits, as he continually scans the room for threats. Yes, threats as that's exactly how he describes the people in this house, and while the word threat seems too strong, Athena sees where he's coming from, him and Eddie completely hostile with each other. She has loudly heard him say a few times that he's here under distress, and considering Chief Hernández has recently approved Chimney's transferred over Bobby's rejection, Athena's surprised he's even here. Granted, it only takes one guess to figure out why: Hen and Karen. Athena, who watches Hen jump up with her hands in the air and join her wife, loves the EMT/Firefighter for it. However, it is a losing battle.

Christopher, Denny, and Harry are sitting in the living room, a few feet in from the tv, playing a video game. Unlike before when Christopher sat to the side, he has joined in on a few games, though keeping a watchful eye on his tablet. The boys wanted to hide in Harry's room, but Athena wanted—wants to keep an eye on the boys, especially the young Diaz who has been struggling. While the boy's anger has died a bit, he is still moody as ever, erratically giving Eddie a hard time, and it has been a struggle to get him to talk. Both Athena and Maddie tried—still trying- their best to keep an eye on the boy, talking to him whenever or wherever he needed a friend. Maddie, especially, has gone out of her way to care for the boy, even 'kidnapping' Christopher whenever he needs it, and there is a special bond growing between the two.

The first question out of Christopher's mouth when he saw Athena was 'Is Maddie coming?' Athena's heart broke a tiny bit. Not unexpectedly, the soon to be mother skipped the cookout, not even blinking when Athena mentioned it to her. Maddie does not want to be in the same room as Eddie and/or Bobby, unable to look them in the eye without her anger boiling over. There is nothing either of those men can say that will change Maddie's view of them, and Athena will not attempt to change her mind, only being the friend that Maddie needs.

Athena takes a long glance around the room before she crosses to her husband in the yard, his shoulder tense and stiff. In the past, she would have put her hands on his right shoulder and drag her fingers across his back, but now, she simply steps up to him. "How's it going?" she asks. The miserable, anxious look in Bobby's eyes shot through Athena when he glances at her from the corner of his eyes, the tears in the corners. She, her heart thumping in her chest, staggers back a bit and takes a second to catch her breath. "How's it going out here?" she croaks, rubbing the back of her neck.

Bobby, for a second, closes his eyes and shakes his head as he flips a burger. "Was this a mistake?"

Simple answer? Yes, this cookout is expecting too much too soon from this broken family. Sure, Eddie has been going to therapy and isn't as loud and boisterous as he has been, but that man is still angry. Though, his hurt and regret are starting to peek through, and Athena can see flashes of the old Eddie she loves. "I can't answer that." She answers honestly. "I just know there is a lot of hurt and pain in that house, and food isn't going to fix it."

Letting out a huge puff of air, he sighs, "I know." Cooking has been Bobby's love language for as long as Athena has known the man. "I know." He turns his attention back to the grill and removes the remaining burgers off the grill. He pokes at the chicken, still pink inside, one more time before he shuts the lid. After taking a long, big breath, he turns to the firefighters in the yard and waves, "Burgers ready!" as he motions to the cooked burgers and turns to the house. No one makes a beeline to the house, lingering behind for a second.

Athena inhales and lets out a soft huff before she follows her husband into the house. He lifts the cooked burgers up slightly, again everyone is slow to act. This time, she goes, "Food, people. Come and get it." A few kicks into gear, but most remain sitting, a cold stiffness in the air. "Get food or else. You better get that butt in gear, Harry." Her 'mom' voice comes out and everyone turns their head.

Karen waves at Denny. "You too, Denny. Let's eat."

Eddie slowly pushes him up, the bones in his back cracking. His eyes dart to his son, and a smile finally breaks across his ice-cold expression. "You hear that, Buddy? Food time. Hungry?"

At first, Christopher is silent, his eyes glued to his tablet. His hands are so tightly wrapped around the device that Athena feels the burn in her own two hands. "You okay, Hun?" Athena asks, taking a step toward the boy.

Christopher lets out a high-pitched squeal, which fills the entire house. Very single head snaps to the boy, though he doesn't notice, as he's too focused on the tablet.

The dread breaking out Eddie's face, he's on his feet and at Christopher's side in a heartbeat. "Hey, Mi hijo. Is everything okay?" he asks, as he gets down on his knees to get a look at his son's face. A hesitant hand reaches out.

It takes a few seconds for Christopher to respond—though his response has nothing to do with Eddie. "Yup!" he cheerfully yells. "I'm great!" A large smile takes over his face, truly the biggest and brightest smile in the entire house.

Eddie, jumping out of his skin, nearly chokes on his tongue at the overly cheerly tone of his son. No one has seen this much cheer in his son in such a long time. "What's got you smiling?"

Christopher turns his head ever so slightly to his father before his eyes flicker back to the tablet, his face blushing. "Nothing." He squeals, his eyes darting away from his father. "Just a friend."

*O*O*

Chicago

After Kelly left, Buck jumps into the shower and lets the water—Yes, ice cold water- run over him for an hour. While he feels like literal death, there's no way in hell—unless someone knocks him out with a baseball bat- he would get any sleep in the near future, his brain zeroing on Kelly and their future date. No matter what Buck does to distract himself, his mind snaps back to Kelly and that blinding smile of his. There's no way he can sleep being so wired up on Kelly's touch. So yes, every part of his body feels like a ton, but he can't stop moving, his feet keep moving. He can't just take a second to breathe, it not in his nature.

When Buck steps out of the shower dripping water, he stands still and bathes in the cold—yet warmer than the shower—air, goosebumps lining his entire body. He takes a deep, sleepy breath before he rubs himself dry. His skin rubbed red and his hair still wet, he switches to autopilot and throws on an old pair of shorts before finally jumping into bed. More like falling. He hits the bed with a hard thump and bounces a few times before he stills. He lays there for a second before he buries his face into a pillow and hopes for sleep to find him quickly. Not surprising—his eyes squeezed shut-, it takes another hour for his nerves to settle and for Buck's mind to drift. This deep sleep is exactly what Buck needs, and after five hours, his body feels lighter, and his thoughts are clear, well clearer than they have been. When he awakes, he lays there for a minute, taking in the peace and quiet. The only sound he hears is the air escaping his lips. When his eyes slowly open, the tension gone.

However, that clarity and peace of mind doesn't last long. Buck's eyes flicker to his phone, wandering back to Maddie's unread message. His arm, consciously, reaches for his phone before he snaps it back to his side. He inhales deeply before he lets out a large puff, and when his heart settles, he reaches for his phone once more. He ignores everything else in his email and reads the message from Maddie.

Maddie: No. sh*t has hit the fan, and while I don't want you to worry about it, I am not going to hide it from you. I am not going to lie to you. I am not going to baby you at my expense. Yet, it isn't your fault. This is just the fallout of the situation. Fallout of people's reactions to the lawsuit. So no, Howard and I aren't doing okay. I did not like how he handled the situation. How anyone handled the situation, but you are my brother. I will always love you, and I don't know how to get past the fact that Howard saw you hurting and did nothing. That being said, I am not sure I want to end things, especially with the baby on the way. (Yes, the baby. You're going to be an uncle.) That may change in the future as we will have to see if therapy will help us. Help us work through the pain. But please don't feel guilty about it. Please focus on yourself.

Buck's vision goes fuzzy for a moment and his throat goes dry. With a shape pain hitting him square in the chest, his lungs are in a state of protest as he struggles to find the air to breathe. Suddenly, it's ice cold in the room, and Buck's thoughts are off to the races, none of them nice. Maddie and Chimney, the couple that he supports and loves, broke up? That is the last thing Evan wanted—wants. He wants his sister to be happy, after the life she had, and Chimney makes her happy. She deserves that. God, he wishes he-

Wait?... Wait, what! Baby?! Did she write baby? Buck has to go back and reread the message to make sure he read that right. An image of his sister with a giggling baby pops into his head, and his chest goes light and warm. Maddie is going to be a mom? A Mom! Can you believe it?! And he is going to be an Uncle!? Buck's panic turns, and a smile takes over. While the situation may not be the best, Maddie will be the best Mom and Chimney will be an awesome dad, which Buck can't wait to see it. Yes, he will see it. No matter the distance, he will not allow the mental and cold silence to form between them again. He's just about to call her—Yes, call her- when he notices the second message.

Maddie: Also, I don't know the full story between you and Eddie, though it will not change my mind regarding him, but please reach out to Christopher. That boy, who has been struggling in your absence, needs to hear from you. Everyone knows it, including Eddie.

Gaping at the message, Buck takes a deep, slow breath and holds it for a second before he lets out a large buff of air. Leaving Christopher without a single word broke Buck's heart. In fact, his heart is still breaking, and he wishes he could go back in time to change it, but he has been scared to reach out to the boy, not wanting to draw Eddie's fury. Even now, there is a tremor in his hand thinking back to that thunderous anger. After one of their many fights regarding the boy, Eddie threatened to call the cops on him, and whether the charges would stick or not, that wasn't—isn't something that Buck wanted. He will never put Christopher in the middle. However, that doesn't mean Christopher isn't in his heart every day or that he doesn't want to give the boy a hug.

Once again to calm his nerves, Buck inhales slowly and exhales deeply, allowing himself a moment of peace. A moment to bathe in the silence of his apartment thinking about his next steps. That moment of complete silence doesn't last, as there is a loud knock on the door, knuckles striking loudly and in rapid sessions. Buck's eyes fly to the door, and he stares for 30 seconds prior to moving, his brain fizzing. With an irate huff, he steps toward the door with several large steps crossing the room before he realizes he's only wearing shorts. While he isn't bashful, answering the door only in shorts doesn't sound appealing, so he makes a quick detour to the couch for his old, worn LAFD hoodie (his comfort item. He doesn't have the heart to toss it) and quickly pulls it over his head, as he continues his way to the door.

The visitor growing impatient knocks again. "Coming," Buck loudly spits out, half away across the room. It isn't long after that that he unlocks the front door to reveal a bashful, grinning Adam Ruzek with food. "Adam," he utters, half surprised, half annoyed. "What—" He shakes his head, knowing exactly why the man is here.

"Can I come in? I got food." He waves the brown paper pages. "Chicago's famous street dogs."

The firefighter snorts as his eyes drop to the bag. Food is one of the ways to his heart. "Do I have a choice?"

"Don't do me like that." Adam grins.

"Come in." Buck waves as he moved to the side. "This is only for the food." After closing the door, he studies Adam, as the meeting in Boden's office plays on repeat in his head. Again, he has no issue helping the officer—not his first choice though-, but he just wanted some advance notice, and by advance notice, he needs more than 5 minutes. If Adam drags him somewhere now, he will go all Navy Seal on his ass and make Steve proud. "I assume there's an update?"

Adam hesitates for a second, rubbing the bottom of his nose with his index finger. "Yes. Dom has a large shipment coming in from California, but he wants to meet up before that happen."

Buck still doesn't understand why Dom is so fascinated in him. Aren't there countless firefighters or former military personnel he can bug? Others that would be willing to do whatever he wants for money? sh*t, Buck could probably list a few off the top of his head. He met a few of them during his time in the Seals, those who enjoy the kill, those who don't care about life, and for the life of him, he could not understand how this type of people pass the mental evaluations. Granted, no one comes out the same after exiting the service. The things they see can and will f*ck up anyone. "What for?"

"He's going to wine and dine you, attempting to flip you." Adam studies Buck's face, his eyes in slight points. His hands tighten on the brown paper bag.

Breathing through his nose, Buck replies slowly, "You want him to be successful."

Adam nods. "But not without some major convincing." He puts air quotes around it, the bag dangling from his hand. "It can't be too easy. After the last meeting with Dom, he knows it won't be a fast yes. What we're hoping for is that he takes you to his stash house in an attempt to convince you."

Buck buries his hands into the pouch of his hoodie, his thumb poking out the small hole. "I take it he hasn't extended an invite to you." He co*cks his head to the side. "So why me over you? Surely, he can't trust a man he just met." Buck has to choke down snort as that's what he did with Kelly Severide. Okay, it wasn't instant with his past trauma haunting him, but man, he fell hook, line, and sinker the second Kelly smiled at him. God, that man's smile should be illegal.

"Because you were clearly not interested in him in the least." Adam answers, his eyes zeroing on the slight upturn of Buck's lips. "We uncover cops can fake a lot of things, but we obviously are interested, and we can only do so much, can only play disinterested for so long. Plus, you aren't trying to impress him like I am."

While Buck has never been a cop, he does understand the basics to going undercover, and it really is an art form, an art form that could kill you with the wrong brush stroke. Buck takes a deep breath and nods, not voicing the thought that's wiggling itself forward. 'But you want me to try?' Again, this isn't new to him, nothing that he hasn't done before. Steve had pulled him into a few uncovered operations. "Okay."

"Okay." Adam, while taking a deep breath, studies Buck—from the lump in his throat to the tapping of his foot. He takes a second before he adds, "I realize I made a mistake before, not checking in with you to see if you had—have questions. So, ask me. And don't be scared to knock some sense into my head. According to Kim, I'm a bit dense and stubborn."

"Kim?"

There's a slight change in the colors of Adam's cheeks, which would've gone unnoticed by most people. "I…um." His tone changes, softer and warmer. "She is a fellow cop in the unit." He hesitates for a second. "You remember my failed engagements?" Buck slowly nods. "She is one of them."

"You two still work together? No hair pulling?" Buck teases.

Adam rolls his eyes. "Nooo." He says, rolling his tongue. "We're grownups who can control ourselves." He exhales deeply before adding, "Besides, she is one of my best friends. I would be lost without her."

While that can't be said about a lot of former romantic partners, Buck believes it says a lot about a person to still be friends with their ex, and it is especially a bald statement to be working alongside them. "And she isn't sick of you?" His mind wanders for a second back to his former lovers. None of them ended up well for him, each ending up on bad terms. "How is that possible?"

"Hey!" Adam protests. "No hotdogs for you! Plus, who wouldn't want to be friends with this?" He motions to himself.

Buck's right eyebrow raises, the gears in his head turning. There're probably only a few who could handle the ticking time bomb that Adam Ruzek is. Yes, Buck can only already tell that this man is a handful. "A few?" he offers up.

Rolling his eyes, Adam crosses to the couch, and without approval or an okay from Buck, he falls back onto the couch after setting the food on the table. He throws his arm up on the back of the couch and wiggles deeper into the cushions. "More than a few. I'm loveable."

"Sure, make yourself comfortable." Buck mumbles to himself, his words just whispers on the air. With Maddie's emails still hanging over his head, his chest is heavy, and his mind is in turmoil. As he stares at the officer, he hates this odd sensation bubbling up in his chest: he doesn't want Adam here and at the same time, he doesn't want him to leave. Adam is a good distraction from Christopher and the thought of reaching out to him. God, he wants to reach other to that kid, but Eddie's angry voice and merciless face flashes before his eyes. Buck's heart races and they-

"This couch is sh*t." Adam throws out.

That insult snaps Buck out of his spiral, and like a switch has been hit, his fear turns into indignant. "You didn't say that the last time." He rolls his eyes. Sure, his couch is sh*t, as he left LA with nothing and spent the majority of his savings on the road. So, he had to be mindful. Plus, all of his items, which he still needs to deal with, are still in storage, and he had to get new things for his apartment, which ate the rest of it. So, while he didn't drop lot of money, he's proud of the pieces that he found. As if he is dealing with a small child, he crosses to the couch and pats the arm. "It's okay, Baby. He didn't mean it."

Adam's eyes go into fine points as he turns his head ever so slightly to stare at Buck. "You're talking to the couch." He deadpanned.

"So?"

"You're talking to the couch."

"And?"

Adam simply blinks, thinking over his next words. "Where you dropped as a baby?"

"Jealous that I'm not sweet talking you?" Buck teases with a hint of annoyance and amusem*nt. He pauses for a second before countering with "But weren't we all dropped as babies?" Was the ex-Floater dropped? Maybe. Probably, but that wasn't the worse injury he received as a child. sh*t, he's lucky to be alive, between his own recklessness and his abusive parents.

The officer lets that thought bounce around his head for a second before he goes, "true. I'm positive my dad dropped me quite a few times."

While Buck doubts that Adam will ask about his childhood abuse, this conversation is getting too close for comfort, and he needs to change this conversation immediately. The mere thought is unpleasant. Shaking off his discomfort, he changes the subject, "Is that why you are getting comfy?"

Adam wiggles again and grins. "Well, I thought I would beat you in again Mario Kart."

It takes a few seconds for that to click in Buck's head, and he replies lightheartedly, "Are we sure we are remembering the same thing? I'm pretty sure that I kicked your ass." Knowing he will have to prove it, Buck crosses to the TV for the controllers for his video gaming system. The food can wait. "I can show you again."

"Let's see you try."

Like the other day, the two dive right into the game, tongues out and shoulder to shoulder. At first, it is a bit weird and tense as Buck isn't sure how to handle Adam. Why is Adam still here? Is this him trying to be friendly? Or him trying to handle his asset? This mind bounces between the two options for a few minutes, but that feeling disappears the second Buck gets Adam with a red turtle shell and the officer explodes in a mock anger. "NO! That's nothing. You just got lucky! Game on, Buckley."

Buck loudly snorts, his negative thoughts gone as he is completely focused on the game. "Really? How about this?! Eat my dust." He teases.

Adam shoots Buck a look from the corner of his eyes. "Not today, Buckley. Not today." Refusing to let Buck get the best of him, he—in real life—swings his entire body to the right before throwing himself to the left and smacking into Buck's shoulder. "How you like that?"

With his mouth wide open, Buck shots Adam a scandalous, betrayed, wide eye stare. "That's cheating!" In his complete shock, he adds, "What kind of cop are you? Where is your boss so I can go all Karen on him?"

"Go ahead. I'm in the intelligence Unit." Adam, trying to eat his laughter, says like it answers everything.

It doesn't answer anything, but Buck can take an educated guess going off of Boden and Casey's clear dislike of Voight. "Hmmm," Buck hums. Adam doesn't comment on Buck's response and jabs a button on his controller, shooting a turtle shell at Buck, green this time. It bounces off a barrier in the game and flies directly at Buck's character, spinning him into a wall. "Lucky shot." He yells, leaning forward in his seat.

Adam smirks. "Eat my dust." He teases as his character zooms past Buck.

Side eyeing him, Buck playfully growls. "Never."

"Just try to stop me." Oh, does Buck try—the half-eaten hotdog sticking out from the corner of his mouth-, and while he knocks Adam out several times in the game, Adam has done the same to him. Honestly, they're pretty much, which makes it all the funnier. Blowouts aren't fun… well, okay. Sometimes, they can be fun, as the other player's reaction can make the night. A second passes and Christopher floats back into Buck's mind—Christopher with a sharp finger pointed at Buck-, his game play slipping just a bit, which Adam notices when Buck is silence after getting hit by a red turtle shell.

His eyes flicking back and forth with the TV and Buck, Adam eyes the firefighter from the corner of his eyes. "Did my awesomeness stun you, Buckley?"

Buck's eyes flicker to Adam as his hands tighten around the controller. Pain shoots up his wrist in protest. "You wish." His words didn't have that playful bite that they had before.

His jaw clenching, Adam pushes the pause button and leads forward, his eyes down on the floor. "I don't do well with emotions and sh*t, but you know I'm here if something is up." He shallows awkwardly.

Though Buck has only known Adam for a short time, that's as clear as day: Adam and emotions don't mix. However, it means a lot to him for Adam to have offered, an offer absent during his final days at the 118. "Just thinking about something a former friend said." He pauses, tossing around the next words in his head. "Since you're a cop," he starts slowly, using his tongue on every syllable, "How much t-trouble…" He stops, letting out a shaking breath. "C-can I get into trouble if I reached out to my former Best friend's kid against his wishes?" Eddie's irate face flashes across his eyes, his threat still hanging over his head. He cannot forget that chilling look that cut right through him.

Adam shifts his weight and leans backward as he sets down the controller, a foot from the now empty hotdog bag. Before answering, he rubs his hands together and shoots Buck a curious glaze. "That depends on the state. On your motives. Whether he has a restraining order. Whether you are breaking laws doing so. You could be arrested after repeated attempts, which wouldn't be good for a firefighter. CFD would frown on that. So…Um… Why do you want to reach out to a kid?" He scratches his chin as he stares at Buck from the corner of his eyes.

For Buck, that's a simple answer, but he doesn't know how to explain it without sounding like creep. Yes, he loves all of his former coworkers' kids, but his bond with Christopher is something else. They are—were buddies. "His father and I were close, so Christopher- his name—became my little buddy, especially after his mother died. We played video games together. Hung out almost daily. Taught him some easy recipes. Chatted about his little classmates. We-"

"Were you and his father dating?"

The simple question surprises Buck, especially Adam's tone. There isn't an ounce of judgement or condemnation. "No, but the feelings were there." Granted, now he isn't sure that can be said, as he doesn't understand how someone who loves him could treat him so horrible. "We just didn't act on it." Buck has a few ideas as to why. If the relationship went south, that would hurt Christopher. Which is exactly what happened, he grimaced.

"Okay."

"Yea."

A minute passes before Adam throws out, "The fallout due to the lawsuit?"

During their original 'get to know' Buck chat, they didn't spend long on the Lawsuit saga, but they talk about it, him unable to hide the discomfort. "Yes. He told me—more like demanded I stay away. Granted, this was months ago."

Adam rubs his chin once more as he lets out an uncomfortable sigh. "Then it's best you stay away. I get it you love this kid, but the courts will not look favorable on you for going against the father's wishes."

Buck nods, as that was what he was planning on doing, even if it f*cken hurt, but Maddie's last message is bouncing around in his head. "I would if my sister didn't send me this message." He reaches for his phone and brings up the email from her. He angles his phone so Adam can read it.

Maddie: Also, I don't know the full story between you and Eddie, though it will not change my mind regarding him, but please reach out to Christopher. That boy, who has been struggling in your absence, needs to hear from you. Everyone knows it, including Eddie.

Leaning over, Adam scans the email quickly, not allowing his eyes to drift to any other message. "Not exactly an approval." He pauses. "I assume your sister won't let you set up a trap for you to get arrested?"

Buck's eyes are huge as his mouth drops. "What?!" he exclaims in total disbelief that those words even came out of Adam's mouth. "She would never!"

Adam shrugs, his eyes drilling into the paused game. "I have seen stuff. Some messed up sh*t. Some really messed up stuff that I can't believe a person could do, let alone to a family member. Murder, rape, robbery, etc."

"She wouldn't." Buck repeats, though mostly to himself. He shakes his head before adding, "I trust her." A lot of things have come and gone in his life but not Maddie.

"Well, okay. Just be careful. This Eddie fellow still holds all of the cards, and I mean all of the cards." Adam leads forward again, reaching for the controller. He wraps his fingers around the controller and squeezed softly. "But poor kid. Being dragged through adult crap."

Buck's mindlessly nods his head, fully aware of that fact. Well, both of those facts. He hates how their sh*t is affecting everyone, and if (not an if) Christopher is suffering, he can't stand back and do nothing. He loves that boy too much. "Yup."

*O*O*

When Adam leaves a few hours later, Buck makes his way to the closest in his room and pulls out his tablet. His nerves flare as it doesn't turn on at first, the low battery icon blinking. Growling, Buck furiously digs into the box for the charger, tossing the unwanted items to the side. A minute or so passes before he cheers "Gotcha," finally finding the power cord at the button of the box. Without wasting a beat, he jumps to his feet and literally leaps—a single leap- over the bed to power strip along the far wall. He bangs his elbow on the wall in his haste, but he ignores the sharp pain as he stabs the charger into the power strip. Fumbling with the other end of the charge, it takes a few times to get plug in the device. Buck tightly grips the tablet, staring at the screen, as he waits impatiently.

Let it be said, Buck isn't the most patient man, which annoyed Bobby when he was teaching him how to cook. (As if it isn't already known.) Though only a few minutes have passed, it feels like an hour for the firefighter. He rocks side to side as he loosens and tightens his grip on the tablet. "Come one." He demands, his voice ruff. "Faster." He bites down on his lip wondering why he didn't keep this thing fully charged at all times. Okay, he knows why he hasn't been charging it, not wanting to temp himself with it. Right now, he doesn't have the best impulse control… though he never really had good self-control. He's the kind of guy who jumped in head first, the guy-

The tablet finally turns on, Buck's attention snapping out of his thoughts. "Come on!" He demands, the startup screen taking far too long. He needs to message Christopher before he changes his mind. "Yes." He cheers, almost unplugging in his gee. He takes a second to settle down before he brings up the game that Christopher and he used to play together, and with a deep breath, he logs in. His chest is tight, and the air in his chest is hot when he sees Christopher online. He takes a deep, shaky breath before he slowly lets out the puff of air. He clicks on his name to bring up a chat but takes a second before he types.

Buck: Hey, Bud. Whatcha Doing?

As the seconds pass by, Buck's heartbeat soars, wondering if he made a mistake. Flashing red lights are going off in his head. Is Eddie monitoring Christopher chats? Well, he should, he reasons, thinking about all the perverts and sickos out there. A moment passes by before he goes, does that include me? Like a switch has been hit, he is ice cold, and it feels like someone is stabbing him in the gut. What if Adam is right? What if… Buck shakes his head, not allowing that thought to form. If he allows him—His still charging tablet binged, alerting Buck to a message. His heart stops when he sees it is from Christopher.

Christopher: Buck! I missed you.

It doesn't take long for the messages to fly.

Christopher: Why did you leave? Did I do something?

Christopher: Did my dad do something?

Christopher: When are you coming back?

Christopher: Where are you?

Christopher: Did I do something wrong?

Christopher: I'll be good. Please come back.

Buck's heart breaks with each message, and he is hit with wave of shame and regret. He regrets a lot of what happened in his final days, and while he didn't—still doesn't—want to face Eddie's irate, he wishes he handled his exit better, especially where Maddie and Christopher are concerned. Though if he faced any kind of pushback—no matter how small- , he would've crumbled, which would have ended him, but he doesn't like the idea of Christopher or any of his family—former or not—hurting. He would do anything to take that pain from the boy.

Buck: Hey, Hey. Slow down, Buddy. Everything is okay.

He hits send as he carefully crafts his next message in his head. He needs to make sure Christopher doesn't get confused or misunderstand anything. While Eddie deserves some karma justice, Buck also doesn't want to lay the blame at Eddie's feet as the Father-Son Duo need each other. He will never come between those two. However, he doesn't know how to explain to the kid about subjects that he should never have to know or deal with.

Buck: Neither your father nor you did anything. After the injury and the tsunami, my head was messed up and I couldn't stay. I needed to find myself. This had nothing to do with you. Please know I love you.

Christopher's response is almost immediate.

Christopher: When are you coming back?

This question hurts more the second time Buck reads it. While Buck never stated he's never returning to Los Angeles, there is no chance of him returning. In his short time with Chicago, this place has become his home, and Kelly… Well, Kelly is Kelly, he thinks, his face heating up. He shakes his head, forcing his thoughts to refocus. He puffs up his cheeks and lets out a large breath of air. His grip tight, he begins to type his response, or rather, he tries to type his message. Any sentence he types is automatically deleted by him when he slaps the delete button and starts again. His heart is in his throat, as nothing feels right. What the hell is he supposed to tell him?

Christopher: Buck?

Buck: I am here, Bud. Just trying to figure how to answer that question

Christopher: You're not coming back.

Buck can't hear the sadness in Christopher's voice, but he can feel it in his entire body. The guilt from before rushes back, slapping him hard. While he can't change how things fell, he wishes he could have this conversation in person.

Buck: No. I am not. I found a place where I can be happy. A new job and friends. A place where I can be happy.

Christopher: This is because of my dad. This is all his fault.

Christopher: I hate him

Buck's heart breaks even more reading that.

Buck: No, you don't.

Buck: Listen. Adults aren't perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. I made mistakes, Kid. I made quite a few in my life, more than I care to admit. This is the same with your dad, so please don't hate him for it. We all have things that we wish we can change. There is blame to go around, and he just thought he was doing what he had to. He loves you with his entire heart. So go easy on your old man.

Calling Eddie's cruelty a mistake is a dull dagger to Buck's heart, as his actions were not an accident. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly how to twist the knife. He enjoyed it, but Buck won't step in between Christopher and Eddie, even if it means he can't see the boy again.

Christopher: But you are gone.

Buck: Not anymore. I won't be there in person, but I am here. Whenever you need… Well, unless there is a fire. I will need to be there. Or if I am sleeping LOL

Christopher: You aren't going to disappear again?

Buck's heart breaks more.

Buck: No.

Christopher: Good.

Buck: So tell me. Have you played any good games lately?

Christopher: yes!

From there, the two are off to the races on the latest video games they each have played, going back and forth like no time has passed, and honestly, a weight has been lifted off his chest, a weight that he has been dreading for months. Buck didn't know how good he would feel after reaching out, and man, he is kicking himself for not doing it sooner. Hours go by with them talking, though it doesn't feel like it, and Buck doesn't realize this until his phone whistles loudly, drawing his attention. "sh*t," he mutters to himself when he notices the clock on the stove. "How did it get so late?"

Buck sends Christopher a quick message, stating he will be back. He puts down the tablet and picks up his phone. Who could this be? He doubts it is Adam, unless the man is checking up on him. His mind wanders to Kelly, wondering if the man would call him and then randomly show up his place to take him out. He can't put it past the Lieutenant, who likes to take the bull by the horns and not take no for an answer. While it would send Buck into cardiac arrest, he won't put it past Kelly to plan a spontaneous date for tonight. Date. The word 'date' bounces around in his head, and his face turns bright red, thinking about the kiss goodbye.

His phone whistles again, and Buck's face crunches up a bit, seeing Casey's name flash across his screen. For a split second, Buck's mind goes dark and negative, and he wonders what he has done wrong. However, he shoves that thought to the side and unlocks his phone.

Casey: Are you ditching us tonight?

Casey: And for my sanity, please confirm you are in your sweat pants on your sofa eating something unhealthy.

Buck stares, his chuckle building in his cheat.

Buck: well, shorts… why?

*O*O*

Kelly is honestly quite annoyed with himself, as he changed his mind for the 5th time regarding the date. Nothing feels right, and that's what is bugging him. Why is he going crazy planning this date? Why does it feel like it has to be perfect? Nothing is perfect! Besides, they had already been on a date… Okay, technically it wasn't a date, but it felt like one, and Kelly will forever think of it as their first date. Oddly enough, it felt pretty damn perfect, even if Evan bolted like an idiot at the end. Kelly still shakes his head over it, that man runs from everything. Kelly is pretty sure he needs to tie him down to stop him from bolting.

"What's wrong with your face?"

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Kelly shots back, glancing up from his tablet. His darkened smart phone sits on the table next to him. "That isn't very nice. You should probably see a therapist for that."

Casey shakes his head and chuckles softly to himself. "I'm not the one making weird faces at the tablet. Did you get any sleep?" he asks as he makes his way to the kitchen.

Sleep? What is this sleep? How does he get this sleep? Kelly laughs to himself, wondering if being a firefighter and sleep go together. "Yes." He answers truthfully. Sure, his excitement kept him up for an hour or two, but he was able to catch a few hours of sleep. Though, his dreams weren't PG.

"So, what are you working on that got you so frustrated?"

Right now, Kelly is trying to find the perfect place to eat, a place that will rock Buck's sockets off. However, those places have long wait lists, and he is too impatient to wait. "Looking for a place to eat." He answers.

Casey co*cks his head to the side, his eyes in narrow points. "I didn't realize picking a place to eat is hard. Maybe, there is a college course you can take in food." He smiles at his joke, but Kelly just gives him a twitching eye. "Okay, okay. Why don't you go with burgers or tacos. Each a good and safe choice."

While Kelly has hinted at it and Casey has teased him about it, it has never been confirmed between the two that Kelly is attracted to Evan. For a hot second, Kelly wants to keep the date to himself, but at the same time, he wants to shout it from the rooftops. "I asked Buckley out." He states calmly, though his heart is not.

"Did he say yes?"

"He did."

"Okay," Casey utters, his head bobbing.

The word 'okay' echoes in Kelly's head. "Just okay? That's all I get from you."

Casey steadies himself and shots Kelly a look. "Yes. Just okay. I'm surprised but at the same time, I am not." There is a long pause as the two stare at each other, each attempting to read the other's mind. "Honestly, man, I just happy if you're happy." He states firmly.

Kelly nods, not sure what he expected from Casey. Maybe he expected Casey to be more surprised? Kelly is—or has been—a lady man, and Buck is definitely not a lady. Granted, Kelly hadn't hidden his interest in Evan. But it isn't like I knew at first, he thinks to himself. I just… he doesn't finish his thoughts as he grumps to himself. He doesn't know what he wanted.

"You okay?"

"Yup."

"You want to talk about it?" Matt Casey asks, seeing right through it.

Does Kelly want to talk about it? Yes but no. Right now, he just wants to plan the perfect date. Why is this so hard? "I'm good. Just trying to find a good place to eat."

Matt gives him a once over before interjecting, "I'm pretty sure Buckley doesn't need anything fancy. In fact, he would probably just be happy with pizza."

"True."

"So, just keep it simple and don't put too much pressure on yourself. The key is to have fun, and you can do that anywhere." Casey reaches for something—Kelly unable to see what—and says, "Just take him for Bowling and Pizza. I doubt Buckley wants to get all fancy in a suit and tie. I know I don't." He laughs.

As much as Kelly doesn't want to admit it, his best friend has a point. While he—yes, he has a healthy ego—looks amazing in a suit, he would rather be comfortable and having fun. He just wants to see that beautiful smile.

*O*O*

Hours later, Kelly finds himself at Molly with a drink in hand, listening to Capp going on and on about some lady who rocked his world. While Kelly can't remember all of his stories, he remembers them all being the most ridicules stories he has ever heard. Anyone who hears them would call bullsh*t in an instant, but Kelly knows better than to doubt Capp. Granted, it is hard at times, especially now. "Really?" Kelly expresses, mildly amused.

"Yes!" Capp exclaims loudly.

Kelly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, chuckles as he gets up to get another beer. "How are you not dead?"

"Right!" Tony agrees. "it's a miracle!"

Cruz snorts. "While I don't know how any of us aren't dead, it's you, Severide, that I wonder about the most."

"Whatever!" he replies, smiling at them. Whatever is said next is lost to the Squad lieutenant as he doesn't wait for a response and walks to the bar to take a seat next to Matt. The Captain is also all smiles as he leans over and chats with Brett, who is beaming at him. "Hey guys." He greets. "What the chances of meeting you two here?" he teases, bumping Casey in the shoulder softly in greeting. It's kind of funny how many nights they end up at Molly's with a beer in hand. Practically, the entire shift is here… well besides Buckley who has yet to make an appearance. Sure, that isn't surprising considering his history, and yet, Kelly has been keeping a watchful eye on the door for the missing teammate. Disappointment blooms in his chest every time a person who is not Evan walks into the bar.

Casey's eyes flicker to Kelly before returning to Brett. "Yea, Sylvie, what are the chances we will see this nut here?"

Brett leans forward and smiles at Kelly. "Well, you live with him, so..."

"Unfortunately," Casey chuckles.

"Hey." Kelly narrows his eyes. "Is this the thanks I get for giving a homeless man a place to stay?"

For the most part, the loudness of the bar drowns out Casey's mock cries, but Brett and Kelly have a front row view to Casey's award-winning performance. With his hand to his chest, he lets out a mock cry as he goes, "Oh, is that how you think of me? Your best friend?!"

"Yup." Kelly says, popping out his lip as he waves his empty beer at Stella, silently ordering a new one.

"How rude."

Brett can't hold back her chuckle, almost gagging on it. "Y-you two."

"You better be careful, Sylvie." Stella interjects as she appears in front of them with a new beer for Kelly. "You don't want to be stuck between these two. You might lose an eye."

Casey shots her a glare—a playful glare but a glare none the less. "Where's the loyalty? I'm your Captain!"

Stella rolls her eyes before she turns toward a customer on the other side of the bar. "Off the clock, Cap. You got to pay me. Right now, my loyalty is to Herrmann," She winks as she walks away.

"I expected more from you!" Casey counters, raising a fist in his mock anger.

Without words coming out of his mouth to distract him, Kelly's eyes zero in on the door again. Stop it, he chastises himself and shakes his head, returning his attention back to the bar top. His right eye twitches when he catches Brett and Casey staring at him, their eyes in narrow points. "What?" he utters, as he leans uncomfortably against the bar.

"Who are looking for?" Brett asks as she brings her drink to her lips. She tips the glass ever so slightly and takes a small slip, her eyes not leaving him.

Casey snorts. "Yea, who are you looking for?"

It was a mistake to tell Casey about the date, looking at his best friend as Matt is giving Kelly the goofiest smile. "Just wondering if Buckley will show up," Kelly answers as he takes a slip of his beer. "Nothing more than that."

Brett tilts her head to the side, her eyes going to her glass. "Maybe, he has a hot date. I know Foster has been talking about him." She playfully glances around the bar. "And she isn't here today."

Considering Kelly had to chased Buck down to ask him out, he doubts the man would be on a date with another person, especially Foster. Besides, he has kissed enough people to know if they are interested, and Evan is interested, just scared. Kelly can't say he isn't scared either, this being all new to him. And his chest constricts uncomfortably at the thought, but it doesn't last as he shoves that thought right out of his head. He can't allow this thought to devour him, especially considering Buck is his own person and what he does isn't Kelly's business. He—

"What's up with that face, Severide?" Herrmann asks, giving the lieutenant a look as he walks past with a towel and glass in his hands.

Kelly rolls his eyes as he tries to mask his expression. Did he show his emotions on his face like some damn candidate? "Nothing. it is perfect."

Casey picks up his own drink and brings the glass to his own lips. "Don't worry. He's probably home in sweat pants on his couch and not with Foster." Brett snorts as she takes another drink.

"Like I should have been," Kelly replies, though it isn't his couch he is thinking of.

*O*O*

While it has been a busy day for truck and Engine with back-to-back calls, Squad had only one call for the entire shift so far, and they have spent the shift cleaning the fire house and bullsh*tting at the squad table over stupid sh*t. Capp and Tony have been acting out some show they watched the night prior, which has been quite entertaining. On the other hand, Kelly was only able to share a word or two with Buck before the bell rang, but there's something different about the firefighter. He seems happier and lighter, and while Kelly's ego says it is because of him, it's not. Whatever it is, Kelly is grateful for it.

Feeling a bit antsy, Kelly takes a deep breath and stands, a little frustrated in this inaction. Generally, calls meant someone is having a horrible day, and he doesn't wish that on anyone, but man, he gets a little itchy when he got nothing to do. He has already completed the paperwork from the earlier call, spending a tad too much time on it. He just needs to keep busy. The first thought is to run some drills, but he shoots that idea down. He just needs to keep his hands busy, and if he is going to do busy work, he's going to be productive.

Ignoring the glances from the team, he takes one tool out at a time, disassembles it apart, cleans it, and puts it back together without a single word. When he says he cleans it, he means it. Like he is a candidate trying to impress his commanding officer, he takes them apart piece by piece, rubbing every inch of the cold metal down with the cleaning solution. In record time, he puts them each back together and reaches—

"Need any help, Lieutenant?" Cruz calls out, breaking his silence.

Kelly looks up, his fingertips blacken. "No. I'm good, Cruz."

"If you say so."

"I-"

"Excuse me." An unfamiliar voice calls out, startling the entire squad to their feet.

Kelly stands up, straights up his spine and turns towards the newcomer, his eyes narrowing. Come down, he tells himself. While sh*t has gone down at the fire house (AKA getting shot up), it isn't uncommon for people to visit the fire station unexpectedly. He has lost count of how many parents brought their children over for a visit. There are also some thirsty women looking for some hot firefighter, which the guys have turned into a game. "How can we help you?" Kelly asks, as he picks up a rag to wipe off his hands.

With a dazzling—yes, a dazzling- smile, the man asks, "I'm looking for an Evan Buckley. Is he here?"

Knowing Buck's past, Kelly has to resist the urge to punch any man who shot up looking for him. While this could be an overreaction, who else could be showing up at the fire station looking for Buck? From Kelly's understanding, no one from his old life knows he is here. "He's not here." He states dryly.

"Did I get the right firehouse?"

"May I ask who is asking?" Kelly asks, taking apart the man inch by inch. sh*t, he thinks. He would be remiss if he doesn't note how attractive this man is. His shoulders could go on for days and he has the perfect jawline with the perfect teeth. You don't see this level of attractiveness in most men. Is this that Eddie Fellow?

The man takes a step forward and reaches out a hand, while saying, "I-am-" He doesn't get to finish as the sounds of an engine draws their attention. A second later, Truck 81 pulls into the station, the guys' voice already filling the air. The man's eyes zero in on the firefighters.

Before the truck can come to the stop, the door flies open, and Buckley leaps out like his ass is on fire, his arms flapping and his turnout jacket flying like a cap. Casey's confused, surprised voice can be heard in the background, yelling, "Hey! Wait."

Buck, his eyes wide, stumbles forward, almost tripping over his own feet to get to the stranger. His chest is pounding as he stares at the man, and every nerve in Kelly is awake. "W-what are you doing here?!" Buck squawks, his voice a few levels too loud. His voice slaps Kelly, his protective urges flaring. Who is this man?

"What? I can't visit the man who once removed a bullet from my arm?"

Chapter 20: Chapter 20: Hugs and Jealousy

Chapter Text

Chapter 20:

Hugs and Jealousy

Years Ago: Location Classified

When sh*t goes wrong in their line of work, it doesn't just go wrong. It goes sh*t f*ck wrong, and yes, Evan is planning to get a T-shirt made with that phase and gift it to the entire team… well if they all make it out of this sh*t show alive, which is looking like a big if. With bullets flying, it isn't looking so pretty, and as stated before, sh*t has gotten real, blood everywhere. He pointedly ignores the bodies on the ground and keeps his head on a swivel, continually scanning left to right. With his heart in both his ears and throat, all Evan can think is "sh*t, f*ck. sh*t. f*ck, sh*t" on repeat. His chants gets louder and more colorful when he is tackled from the side from what seems like a goddamn human missile with a knife aimed for his head.

Before you judge, you will have to forgive Evan's word choice right now, as he has more important things to worry about than his word choices. For example, he, currently has to worry about a knife coming right at his face. Plus, he is dodging bullets and grenades—yes, grenades- while trying to keep up with the rest of the team, who seems to have simply vanished. So, all of those people who consider his word choice an indicator of his intelligence can shove it. Shove it right up their ass. They were never ambushed by an opposing force with far greater number and fire power. They never had to wipe the blood off their faces to see. They never had to wrestle a six-inch knife out of someone's hand to avoid getting one in the face. After turning the blade on the owner, Evan pushes the now stilled man off him and scans the area once more for his team, which is fruitless. With this hell storm, the team is scattered by the violent onslaught they didn't expect.

Ambushes by definition are surprises, unforeseen attacks by people lying in wait in a concealed position, and yet, ambushes rarely work against them. Their Seal team is rarely taken by surprise, prepared for ambushes; in their line of work, they have pre-planned back up plans and then back up plans for their back up plans. While McGarrett will dive head first into danger without hesitation, he makes sure to give his team every opportunity to succeed. He wants to give his team the best odds of survival; plus, he likes to brag that they are a will-oiled machine. Yet, all of that planning seems to have gone up in smoke as this ambush came out of nowhere, literal nowhere.

This mission was supposed to be in and out, an extraction of an important CIA's asset. While no one expected an easy assignment, no one expected the mission to explode like this, almost like the opposing force had their extraction plan, and they were forcibly separated from the asset and each other. He can't tell you the status of each of his teammates, which is a shot to the gut (which is funny as they are getting shot at. Evan has to find something to laugh at. HA.), but he knows the protocols in cases like this: if separated, reconvene at the appointed safe house.

Once more—dodging more bullets-, Evan is cussing loudly in his head, swearing to whatever god there is. While he understands not getting captured is the most important goal here as the knowledge in their head valuable, he doesn't like it. Doesn't like leaving the area without his team. These guys are his family, his chosen family, and right now, the only friendly he can see if McGarrett, who is also bloody and bruised. Evan just feels dread. "sh*t," he cusses, his throat dry, as a bullet flies by his head, barely misses his ear.

McGarrett glance back and fires, his aim nonexistent. "Watch your head, Buckley." he yells, his emotions completely locked down. There is a firm emotionless mask on his face, but for some reason, it settles Evan.

*O*O*

His heart pounding and his lungs strenuously straining for air, Evan doesn't know how long they have been running, dodging bullets and man patrols, but both McGarrett and he are running on fumes. "I think we lost them." He huffs. His words are scratchy and painful, and he's surprised he can get them out.

"You better knock on wood, Buckley," McGarrett grunts, his eyes in fine points, as he nods to the nearest tree. While his Commander locks down his emotions, there's no hiding the painful tones in his voice. There are no signs of the rest of their teams.

"Are you okay, Old Man?" Evan asks, his eyes snapping to McGarrett. He gives the man a once over, checking for any obvious injuries. It's hard to tell whose blood coats the man apart from the CIA Asset's blood.

McGarrett meets his stare before quickly scanning their surroundings. "I'm not old, Kid." He protests, weakly.

Evan takes a second to even his breathing, his eyes still on McGarrett, and while dusk has fallen, he notices a small hole in his left sleeve. "sh*t, did you get shot?!" he asks, struggling to keep his voice down.

As if it is nothing, McGarrett glances down at his left arm before looking back up, scanning their surroundings once more. He isn't just looking for their adversaries; he is keeping an eye out for their comrades. He doesn't relax for even a second. "Just grazed. It's nothing."

Evan would roll his eyes if this wasn't a life-or-death situation as McGarrett will down play any injuries if you let him and he mean any. "I don't know if I believed you." With McGarrett, he learned not to believe the man regarding his injuries. It's hypocritical and funny to think how protective and by the book McGarrett is with their injuries when he could be bleeding out but won't allow them to treat him as it is just a scratch. However, Evan doesn't get to point this out as McGarrett raises up a hand to silence him, spotting movement in the grass

*O*O*

The sun starts to poke through the clouds by the time Buckley and McGarrett find a place to hunker down to rest and to avoid the heat, and they aren't referring to the temperature which is in the high 80s. With the scouts and patrol looking for them, this situation can explode at any time, and as the hours pass, the severity of the situation deepens. While they need to get out of there, traveling in the daylight increases the likelihood of getting seen. They have to be careful of getting captured; plus, it gives them a moment to rest and recharge. Unfortunately, this gives Evan time to think, and thinking is not his friend.

Again, while an ambush is a surprise attack, the size of the opposing force stuns Evan as those numbers takes scheming, which supports the idea that their foe had insider knowledge. That thought is chilling, sending an ice wave throughout his entire body. Before Evan can even start to go through the list of people who knew about this ops, he is pissed at the idea that someone would betray his family. It burns a hole in his heart. His team, even Miller, means the world to him, and he will die to protect them. Evan's jaw is locked in place as his body is stiff, attempting to list and eliminate likely suspects. There is—

"Kid, stop."

Evan's head pops up and his eyes snap to McGarrett, whose jaw is rather stiff. "What?" he croaks.

McGarrett meets his stare for a second before he returns his attention back to his arm. Keeping his rife in arm's reached, he rips off the bottom half of his sleeve off with a quick motion. "I can hear you thinking from over here." He huffs as he tries to wipe away the blood to exam the wound. "We can deal with who f*cked up later." he adds, keeping his own anger in check, as he reads the young seal's mind. "Right now, our focus is on getting out of here alive. We can hang the traitor by their toes later." For McGarrett, this is not an empty threat.

The image pops up in Evan's mind immediately, the speed of imaginary surprising him. He can literally see his commander tying ropes to their toes and pushing over a railing for them to hang for days. "Okay." He utters, breathing through his nose. He is still angry, but McGarrett's words do get through to him.

"Take a few breaths." McGarrett orders. "If you need to talk about it, then do it quickly but get back to business. We both need to keep a leveled mind right now."

Nodding—his hands still wrapped around his rife-, Buckley does just that and takes a few deep breaths. This may not be his first assignment, but this is his first sh*t show, where everything that can go wrong went wrong, and nothing can compare a person for this. It does something to the brain to realize you are completely alone out here, unable to call for back up. Evan does better when he has a plan. "You aren't mad?" He asks, as he stares at the barrel of his gun.

"Who says I am not?" The Commander answers, monotonal. "Somehow our mission details were leaked, most likely by a traitor in ranks. Our mission is a failure, the asset dead. I have no idea where the rest of our team is. No idea of their status. I am pissed. f*cken pissed." He takes a deep breath, his eyes zero in on the entrance of their abandoned cabin. "However, as Navy Seals, we have to compartmentalize our feelings in the field. If not, we are good as dead out here."

That is Evan's issue: he isn't good at compartmentalizing. He has no idea how to turn off his emotions. "How do you do that?"

McGarrett takes a second to answer. "It isn't easy, and the anger will always be there. However, I pick something to focus on, ridding my brain of everything else. Pick something, Buckley."

Now, that's something Evan can wrap his mind around, and he picks something inspiring to focus on something. He opens his mouth to voice this thought, but his next sentence dies in his throat when he notices how deep the wound on McGarrett's arm is. "Wait, you said you were just grazed." He exclaims, his eyes large. "that is not a graze!"

"Hush!" The commander hisses. "It's fine."

Evan, after getting over his initial shock, dramatically rolls his eyes, as this is McGarrett 101. He can always count on him to be bullheaded. Putting down his rifle, Evan—keeping low- quickly shuffles over to McGarrett, his eyes on the bullet hole in his arm. "Is it still in there?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

McGarrett stares at him. "Why do you sound like a teenage boy asking if his dick is still in?"

Though hidden by sweat and blood, Evan's cheeks are pink at the word dick. Did McGarrett really say dick? It takes a moment for Evan to clear the mental image of the night he lost his virginity. That very question did in fact come out of his mouth, and even now, Evan cringes at the painful memory. He can still see the Girl's judging flown. "Ha ha." He dramatically rolls his eyes as he exams the injury. How could McGarrett be so nonchalant about getting shot? There's a damn bullet in his arm, but McGarrett is just shrugging. "I don't see an exit hole."

"So, not lucky." The Lieutenant Commander deadpans as he reaches into one of his pockets for his pocket knife.

"It's still bleeding." Buckley utters. He eyes the knife, though this isn't the first time he has seen a man—yet alone Steve- dig out his own bullet.

While it isn't the worst gunshot wound that either of the men has seen, it is still bleeding profusely and has to be taken care of. First, they have to get the bullet out to stop the bleeding. "Yes, I have to remove the bullet."

Evan trusts McGarrett's ability to remove his own bullet, this man a skilled bullet remover, but he still thinks the man is nuts to try and dig the bullet out himself. Evan can barely tie a tie. "Hand it over."

"You want to give it a shot?" McGarrett grins at his pun.

"You think you're cute."

"Think?"

"Hush it." Sure, Evan is no expert, but with his first aid training, it's better for him to go digging into McGarrett's arm than the commander himself. "Anyhow, I can't be worse than you." he shoots out as he takes the knife from him.

"Can you handle the blood, Buckley?" McGarrett teases, giving him a cheesy smile.

Even if he is all nerves, McGarrett's trust in Evan is all that he needs. It feels amazing. "I can handle blood. It is the puke that I cannot handle. As long as you aren't puking, we are good."

"Good."

Evan nods as he reaches into his pack for a sewing kit and his lighter. To prepare for combat, he was given some first aid training, and while this isn't his first assignment, he has yet to use those skills and this kit to sew up a bullet wound. "Don't scream." He gives McGarrett something to bite down on.

"Who do you take me as?" he asks, flipping the small piece of wood Buckley gave him over and over in his palm.

"Freddie?" Evans gives him a cheesy smile. McGarrett snorts as Buckley takes some water to wash out the wound before he digs out the bullet and sews up the wound. He takes a second to breathe.

McGarrett watches him for a second, as Buckley, who can be just as risky as anyone, can be quite anal-retentive with things he is nervous about. He has to think it through a few times. This is one of those things. "First time, Buckley? I can talk you through it." He offers, genuinely.

Buckley looks up, meeting his blue eyes. "Nope, I think I would rather deal with you being angry than whatever this is. Now hold still and don't be a baby." He pauses and grins as he tries to will his nerves away. Messing with McGarrett does help the nerves. "But I doubt this is your first time, McGarrett."

"If I can handle your horrible cooking, I can handle your horrible medical kills."

"Hey."

*O*O*

Present Day Chicago

"What? I can't visit the man who once removed a bullet from my arm?"

The firehouse barely registers to Buck as his attention is fully on Steve McGarrett. Steve f*cken McGarrett. The beautiful Steve McGarrett, who is the most loyal person he knows. When he called Steve a few days ago, he never expected the man to show up a few days later, and yet, here he is. Though they had exchanged a few calls this year, it has been some time since he has seen Steve in person; however, he's just as beautiful as ever, especially with the pepper scattered through his dark hair. Buck stares blankly, his brain trying to process the situation: Steve standing in his firehouse. Fortunately, or unfortunately (depending on how someone looks at it), his mouth is not in sync with his brain. "Well, I'm not your first."

Steve laughs. "Most definitely."

A few loud, awkward coughs erupt behind Buck, followed by a bewildered "What?" Additional words, a growing chatter, are exchanged between the other firefighters, but it all whispers to Buck. Steve just waves to them.

At first, the sight of Steve sends him into a slight panic, as surely Steve has better things to do than to babysit him. (Like Crime. Hello!) Yes, babysit, but there's something about Steve's smile that melts Buck's barriers and settles his heart. He also has magical hugs, and it's no wonder why Buck (or anyone) followed Steve so easily. Without another word, Buck crosses to Steve, who drops the duffel he is carrying, and pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around the older man who, in returns, wraps his arms tightly around Buck. As always, Buck feels instantly better in the warm embrace, and that uncertainty from earlier disappears. "Good to see you, Old Man."

"Same here, Kid." A pause. "And I am not old."

"Okay, Old Man." Buck chuckles. He doesn't break from Steve's arms, but he leans back a bit, his blue eyes meeting Steve's (though according to Buck, they are magical color changing eyes. The color depends on the light.) "This is about the phone call." His voice is softer than before.

"Yes."

That single word hits Buck in the center of his chest. As he replays the message in his head, he doesn't spot anything too alarming in it, him rambling like an idiot, and yet, the man came. "I-"

"Hey there," Comes Casey's loud, cheery voice, cutting through Buck's tunnel vision. Still in his turnout gear, he approached the two, holding out a firm hand with a smile. Once both sets of blue eyes are on him, he goes, "Captain Matt Casey."

As if fighting off an octopus going through food, Steve awkwardly breaks from Buck's arms one limb at a time and takes a step forward Casey. With a smile on his face, he accepts Casey's extended hand. "Steve McGarrett. Nice to meet you."

Rocking on his feet, Buck's deer-caught-in-the-head-light eyes rapidly switch back and forth between the two men and drop to their firm hand shake. Their eyes are solely focused on the other, and while both wear smiles, Buck knows those expressions. These smiles are more than just smiles, and like two over protective big brothers, they are sizing each other up.

"So, you-" Casey starts, but gets abruptly cut off by Kelly. Still wiping the oil and dirt from his hands, his eyes are large as something clicks in his head. "Wait. Steve?" Kelly spouts, drawing the attention. His eyes go to Buck's, recalling something he said to him. "You're the guy who tried to get Buck to watch Top Gun and failed."

Buck stills in shock. While he remembers telling the Lieutenant that tidbit, he never expected him to retain it. Usually when he says something, it goes in one ear and out the other of whoever he is talking to, though Buck does talk a lot. He doesn't blame anyone for toning him out at times, especially when he's excited. So, yes, it surprises him that Kelly remembers that, especially when he only mentioned Steve once a few weeks ago during his panic after the Adam ambush.

Steve drops Casey's hand, rotates back to Buck, and gives him a highly offended stare. "You still hadn't watched it?!" He lets out a loud gasp. "Blasphemy!"

Getting hit by a wave of playful bashfulness, Buck shifts his weight to one foot and reaches an arm above and over his head to scratch the back of his head. "I…um…well… You….um…" It isn't like Buck went out of his way to avoid Top Guy, more so he hasn't gone out of his way to watch it. After leaving the Navy, he avoided war/military movies for a while. No matter how silly, he could not handle the painful reminder.

"We should fix that after your shift," Steve grins at Buck before turning to Kelly. "And is the kid here talking about me? Hopefully all good stuff." He ponders the thought. "Who am I kidding. It is all good stuff, and I am honored."

Buck shakes his head in laughter and snorts. "Why would I do that? Your ego is too big as it." However, Steve is right: he doesn't have anything negative to say about the man.

Steve is all smiles. "All lies. My ego is perfect."

Buck's chest goes light looking at Steve's inviting smile, still shocked that Steve had immediately jumped on a plane to Chicago to see him… which also knocks the air out of his lungs considering Buck never told Steve where he is. If it was anyone else, he would be freaked out by the idea that someone tracked him down, but Steve has magical powers when it comes to finding people. "Keep telling yourself that."

"I-" Kelly, who is looking rather determined, cuts Steve off with a "So, who is Steve McGarrett and how does he know our Buck?" His eyes are drilling into Steve.

The 'our Buck' vibrates against the walls in Buck's head for a second, and yes, while he is now a permanent member of 51, it is still shocking to think about it. With Casey and Severide knowing his past, he has been claimed by another firehouse family, a family as great of 51. Without moving his head, he glances at the house from the corner of his eyes, warmth spreading through his body thinking about them. Granted, he also feels everyone's eyes on Steve and him, drilling into them demanding answers. That's the downside of having a family: they're all in your business, and yet, Buck kind of loves it. "An old friend."

Gallo snorts as he slips out of his turnout gear. "That's sooo helpful."

Steve shakes his head, laughing. "That's Buckley for you." He pauses for a second as he takes a deep analyzing look at Buck. There's always something about his stare that can cut right through Buck. "I was his commanding Officer in the Navy."

The fire house goes silent for a second before Cruz exclaims, loudly, "Wait!? You were in the navy?" He isn't alone in his surprise and amazement as the station echoes this surprise a second later.

Buck, quiet at first, slowly nods, not sure what to make of this surprise. Silence is hard to judge. Could it be disbelief? Them not believing that he could make it in the Navy? He flashes back to the several jokes the 118 made after they learned he had tried out for the Seals. "Oh, Buck as the seal? Can you imagine? Our Golden retriever as a seal?" Sure, it wasn't the best fit, but it wasn't because he couldn't hack it. He could. He could hack it. He just needed to put his mental health first.

"Why didn't you tell us? That's pretty cool." Ritter says. "But beware that Gallo might be asking some stupid questions." He snorts. "I can see it now. 'Do Warships Have Self Destruct Buttons?'"

Gallo spins and nails Ritter with heated glare. "Why are we friends again?"

"Because you love me?" Ritter counters, shrugging.

Steve snorts. "Not to interject that," he starts as he motions to Ritter and Gallo, "But no…"

Herrmann rolls his eyes. "As you can see here, we are a bit weird." He nails Gallo and Ritter with one of his own stares. "Don't judge them too harshly." He states.

"So, the kid fits right in." Steve replies.

No matter how many times Steve calls him kid, he feels warm and light, though it's impossible not to think of Bobby who called 'kid' as well. "Ouch. Hey. Maybe, I should have left the bullet in."

Steve, all smiles, acts hurt and brings a playful hand to his chest, grasping at his heart. "You wound my soul, but there's always next time."

With a large conspiring expression, Stella Kidd takes a step forward as she works off her gear. "You two are super cute together." She pointedly ignores the heated glare from Kelly.

Buck goes bright pink as Steve grins. Steve replies. "You should see-"

"Okay, that's enough! Let's me show you the fire house, Old Man," He croaks, gawkily, as he quickly and swiftly crosses to Steve and grabs him forcefully by the arm. Though Steve isn't resisting, Evan gives the man no choice and drags him away. Puffing out his cheeks, Buck takes a deep breath to clear the pink from his cheeks. While he cannot forget his Seal days, he kept a firm barrier between them, a wall of protection. No, he isn't upset at seeing Steve—feeling quite happy at seeing him-, having these two worlds colliding is startling.

Buck has no idea what to make of this situation, but If he had turned around, he would have seen the piercing stare Kelly is giving Casey and Kidd.

*O*O*

The former Ex-Floater will give Steve the firehouse tour that he promised after he speaks to the former Sailor about this unexpected visit. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no is following them, Buck shoves—yes shoves- Steve into the empty conference room and closes the door. He's tempted to put a chair in front of the door to block someone from entering, but he decides that's too much and doesn't want to be that level of crazy. "Did you really just drop everything to track me down?" he asks, hesitantly, as he shrugs off his own turnout gear. For a split second, his panicked mind goes to Athena. As a cop with resources, will she be tracking him down next? He swallows deeply, unsure how he feels about that. Yet at the same time, he's also unsure how he feels about the fact that she hasn't tracked him down.

"I did." Steve answers, matter of fact, as he leans against the windowsill and folds his arms across his chest. The smile is gone from his face, replaced by concern in his eyes, as his blue (super Blue at the moment) eyes drill into Buck.

The concern strikes Buck like an open hand slap, and for the second time today, he replays the message he left for Steve in his head. 'Hey…um…Steve. It's Buck…sh*t, Evan. It's Evan. Sorry… Yea, I know it has been a while, but hey, life. Stupid life…I just want to check in, you know? Just… need to talk… Um…well. Anyhow, later.' What did he say that sounded the alarm? "Did say something?" Or maybe, it was his tone.

Steve co*cks his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. "No. It's how you said it. Plus, there was a sh*t tone of filler words used." He smiles softly. "So, since I hadn't seen you in a while, I decided to check on you in person."

Buck nods a few times, as he suddenly feels bashful and ashamed that he made Steve come out here to check on him like a child. "Well, I'm good."

The look Steve gives Buck shots right through him with a clear 'I don't believe you.' "Kid."

"What?"

Steve's critical expression softens. "I see you never got better at lying."

Buck sardonically snorts, as that isn't true. He can lie. At this point, he's a master. He lied to himself daily in his final days at the 118, convincing himself of the unthinkable. He told himself some intricate and fascinating lies. "Lies."

"Okay. You're lucky you're cute."

A few harsh coughs explode from Buck's throat, and it takes a second to smash them down. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Steve gives him a very pointed stare as if to dare Buck to continue to be stupid. "Why don't you tell me how you got to Chicago? From what I understand, you were living it up in LA." Buck huffs and looks anywhere accept at Steve, who takes notice. "Kid, did you forget how awesome my interrogation skills are? Hadn't met anyone I can't broke, so I am not sure you want to go down this road."

Buck's left eye twitches as the co*cky asshole is all smiles, and he means all smiles. A smile reaches ear to ear. While Buck has not seen or been involved with all of Steve's interrogations, he has seen enough to know that Steve isn't lying. As if he can see into a person's soul, he knows exactly how to break someone, be it with kindness or cruelty. Honestly, it's amazing and scary to see how Steve works, and to avoid that getting turned back on him, he might as well tell him. However, telling him on shift isn't appealing as he doesn't want that shadow hanging over head. Plus, he needs drinks for that conversation. "Okay." He takes a breath. "Not on shift. It's a long and…" He lets out a puff of air. "Painful story with big ass tears, and no one needs that at the fire house."

A few seconds pass as Steve, his eyes in fine points, scrutinizes each inch of the firefighter, taking him apart piece by piece. Buck can practically see the gears move in his head. "Okay, but I will hold you to it." He points a finger at Buck.

Buck swallows deeply and thickly, knowing Steve would hold him to it. He is a former Navy Seal and all. "So, you came here right after the airport?" he asks, his eyes dropping to the bag next to Steve. It isn't a big bag, but Steve never needed a lot of clothes. "Didn't stop anywhere else?"

"Nope." Steve replies, popping out his bottom lip. "As soon as I touched down, I came straight here."

"I needed immediate attention?" Buck inquires, his chest tight. Is he a burden to everyone around him that they need to check up on him right off the plane? The thought leaves a sour taste on his tongue. He doesn't like the idea of being a burden.

Steve's smile is truly stunning. "Yes."

Buck lightly shakes his head while he rolls his eyes. He snorts mostly to himself, as he evaluates the situation, realizing how fortunate he is. Yes, although he hates the idea of being a burden, it touches him deeply that his old Commander, his first Brother, came to check on him even after all of these years. Buck loves that, even if he could skip the questions. With anyone else, he would buck (Yes, Pun intended), but with Steve, he knows the man only has positive thoughts of him. "Geez." He takes a deep breath and clears out the negativity in his head. "Didn't even go to your hotel yet?"

If possible, Steve's smile grows, though a bit bashful. Since when is Steve bashful? "Well…What hotel? Who needs a hotel when your seal buddy has a sofa?"

It takes a second for Buck's brain to catch up to what Steve is hinting at, which is silly considering who he is talking to. Steve, who 'forgets' his wallet more times than he remembers, is widely known to be an extremely cheapskate in some—most—cases. He will do anything to save a dollar or eat for free, and it's hilarious at times. Buck swears that Freddie was going to kill Steve several times over this, and from what he hears, this new partner—Danny Williams if Buck remembers correctly—is close to doing the same. Buck has no idea how Steve hasn't been stabbed as food and beer is sacred. "Fine, you can stay with me. It is a crappy apartment in the best neighborhood. The couch is the worst, but you're welcome to stay."

"Can't be worse than some of the places we hunkered down at, so I am sure I can handle it."

A shiver runs down Buck's back as all the random, insane places pop up in his head, pulling uncomfortable memories up. Steve is right: some of those places were down right inhabitable. He shakes those memory out of his head and heartily chuckles, "I don't know if I should take that as an insult or not."

Steve waves him off as he pushes off the windowsill, ignoring his bag for now, and steps to Buck while adjusting his shirt. "Don't. It's not." He tilts his head to the side and scans the other rooms through the windows. He clearly sees something, but doesn't comment on it. After a few short seconds, he turns his attention back to Buck and scans the man once more. Before the man could say anything, he, with big steps, closes the distance between them and pulls the man into another bear hug, tightly wrapping his arms around him.

Instant warmth and love.

While Buck has received hugs in his life (none from his parents), nothing compares to Steve's hugs. He isn't sure if it's due to Steve's size, not meeting a lot of people Steve McGarrett's size, or if it is simply Steve. When Steve hugs you, he means it. For the former Lieutenant Commander, hugs are how Steve shows his love, and he does skimp or shy away from hugs. Granted, you have to be in his inner circle for these magical hugs, as he doesn't give them to just anyone. Hugs are for his family, and as Steve's family, Buck eats them up as he is a hug slu*t. He would do anything for a hug, and he means that. While there is nothing wrong with wanting hugs, he blames his parents and their lack of hugs for his hug obsession.

"Kid," Comes Steve's burly voice in his ear as if he can read his mind. "I came because you're family, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for family." He gives Buck a tight squeeze, but a second later, his loosens and he adds, chortling, "You smell."

Rolling his eyes, Buck loudly snorts as he softly pulls out of Steve's embrace. Once free, he playfully slaps Steve's shoulder. "You did ambush me at work after we got back from a call, so..." He states matter of fact. "And this is nowhere near as bad as you that one time. You know the time. The time you fell in cow sh*t."

Steve's eye actually twitches. "If I…" He stresses, "remember correctly, I fell into that sh*t saving your dumbass." He pokes a sharp finger into his chest. "Next time, I will let you fall into the poop."

"And my dumbass thanks you." Buck gives him a huge, beaming smile.

Sarcastically blinking his eyes, Steve stares at Buck before he glances over his shoulder once more and says, "Why don't you give me that tour nice before your fellow firefighters explode with curiosity?" With another one of his famous smiles, he waves at the window.

Buck's eyes go large, as he whips around, following Steve's eyes. He blinks a few times when he spots Gallo and Ritter through the windows with large eyes and red faces. Try as they might, they cannot make the awkward turnabout not awkward, and like two lumbering robots, they swiftly saunter away. From the corner of his eyes, he notices a dark shadow move, but he is unable to make out what it is, which makes him wonder if he is seeing things. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He admits. He misses the awkwardness of family. "Okay, you want that tour now, Old Man?"

Steve grumbles. "You know what."

Buck takes a single step before he spins back to face Steve. His smile dies a little as he recalls the uncover assignment that Adam dragged him into. Like the lawsuit, it isn't something he wants to bring up at the fire station, but he needs backup on this, and Steve is one of the few people he trusts to have his back in a gun fire. "Steve." He starts. "There is something else you can help me with."

"Which is?" Steve asks, his eyes narrowing at Buck's tone.

"Well, I accidentally got dragged into an undercover thing with Chicago PD."

Steve blinks and, rather comically, his eyes drop to the logo on Buck's uniform. "How did that happen? I know you think you are a master detective at times, but there's still a CFD logo on your uniform."

Buck's right eye twitches in embarrassment, remembering a few of these calls. Back when he was new at the 118, he would call Steve just to level himself and chat about whatever case Steve was working on at the time. From there, Buck would drill Steve for details in an attempt to play detective and solve the case over the phone. 'Oh, I bet it was the husband. Wait…Maybe, it is the neighbor. Was there an affair?' Though Steve would never admit it, Buck likes to think he helped him solve a few cases. "Well… you see." Quickly, he goes over how he met Adam and how got pulled into the string.

"So, you got ambushed after ashift and now you have to get friendly with this Dom guy?" Steve asks, though it is mostly for his benefit.

"Yup."

Steve nods, his expression serious. "I got your back. Aways" A pause. "Always."

*O*O*

After Buck collects his thoughts from that warming yet awkward conversation—Steve's 'always' echoing in his head-, he stores Steve's bag in his locker and begins to show him the fire house, starting with the areas that are empty. (He still feels a bit off center from his seals days meeting his firefighter days.) Oddly enough, the gym is empty, though there is an odor of fresh sweat. Besides a teasing 'Are you keeping me away from your fellow firefighters, Buckley, for a reason?', it goes pretty well, and Steve is all smiles. He doesn't ask questions, his attention fully on Buck, again picking him apart piece by piece with his eyes. "You know people who look at me like that have to buy me dinner first," Buck smirks as he rubs his nose.

"I don't think that Lieutenant would that like that." Steve teases, cheekily.

Buck abruptly stops in his tracks, his mouth dropping. A few second pass as he picks his mouth off the floor. When Buck first noticed Steve standing in the fire station, everyone disappeared and all he saw was his former Commander, his Brother. However, he felt Kelly's aura. It felt off. Was he jealous? Surely not? But what would he be jealous of? Kelly makes him want to drop his pants, while he just wants hugs from Steve. "I-I don't know what you are taking about."

Steve rises his right eye brow and gives Buck 'who the hell are you kidding?' glaze, which cuts right through him. "Really? What else would you call it? He looks like someone kicked his puppy. He likes you." He joshes, his hand on his hip.

Bright pink, Buck frantically whips his head around, scanning the floor for anyone who may hear this painfully mortifying conversion. Admittedly, he's mainly looking for Kelly and his mouth-watering smile, but luckily, he doesn't see the Lieutenant, only a few members from the engine, who are too far away to overhear, chatting down the hall. "He…um… asked me out." He admits softly, still shocked that Kelly had asked him out. Had tracked him down to ask him out. At times, he wonders if he dreamt it, but he can never forget the kiss. Even now, his chest gets icy hot at that memory.

"Did you say yes?"

"Yes, but we hadn't set a date yet."

"Okay. We can work with that." He smirks, rubbing his hands together.

A second passes, and Buck just blinks. "What?!" His voice cracks.

"A date without a date? Nope. That is not good." Steve grins, teeth showing. Pointing his finger in the air, he adds, "This must be fixed."

Buck's brain fuzzes, as he flashes back to some of Steve's 'plans' (if they can be called that). While he has quite a successful track record, Steve has been known to do some risky things or just jump head first without thinking, so he has no doubt Steve has something crazy in his head. He would not put it past Steve to tie Kelly up by his toes until he picked a date. "Um…" Buck lets out a nervous laugh. "I-I don't know how I feel about that."

"What could go wrong?"

If this wasn't about his love life, Buck would laugh, enjoying the Steve's crazy plan. "A lot of things."

"You-" Steve starts but is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Chief Boden, who has broken free from his office after a few hours of paperwork. He has that 'I hate paperwork' look, his glasses halfway down his nose. "Who do we have here?" he asks, with that corky smile of his. Halfway between a smile and frown.

Steve, slipping into a semiserious mood, takes a step forward and holds out his hand. "Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett." His seriousness slips for a second. "The Kid and I served in the Navy together."

Taking his hand, Boden nods and replies. "Chief Wallace Boden."

Buck's eyes bounce to Steve before he returns his attention to Boden. "He had the misfortune of being my commanding Officer." He adds.

Clasping Buck on the shoulder, Steve disagrees. "Ah. You aren't that bad. I suffered through worse." He squeezes Buck's shoulder once more before his hand drops to his side.

Boden's oddball, half smile is now a full smile. "I can second that. You aren't that bad, Buckley."

Unless prior innocent jokes that felt like targeted hits, this feels like a joke, which makes Buck's chest feel as light as a feather. "Oh. Geez thanks." He rolls his eyes. "You two aren't that bad either."

"Not too bad? Not sure, how I feel about that." Boden hums. Turning back to Steve, he extends, "You're welcome to join us for Dinner, though we never know what we will get."

"That depends on who's cooking. It isn't Buckley, is it? He used to burn water." Steve teases.

Buck glares at Steve, plotting his revenge as they speak. "Hey now! Is it pick on Buck day? And my skills have improved dramatically." Thanks to Bobby. That thought is a knife to the gut, him still grieving over the loss of that father-son relationship. He doesn't think he will ever be over it.

"No, Buckley's food has been a hit in the firehouse. We will keep him that for that." Boden teases softly as he winks at younger man.

"I guess I will have to judge for myself." Steve expresses.

"I'll show you!" Buck stabs Steve in his chest with his finger. "Let's go!"

*O*O*

It doesn't take much convincing for Buck to take cooking responsibility from Gallo and Ritter, who except the offer within seconds, but the duo stays close and watches, talking his ear off. Buck, a talker himself, doesn't mind it, as he talks about his many cooking fails. Thanks to Steve, Buck's kitchen screw up are the hot topic, and the station is getting lots of laugh out of it. "It's not that bad."

"I'm surprised you still ate it!" Gallo exclaims.

Mouch twists around and rests this arm on the back of the couch. "I want to know how you messed up instant Ramen. You just add water and heat. Done."

Steve snorts, which draws Buck's irate. "You shut up." He grumbles. "I don't know if I like you here. Telling all of my secrets."

"I guess you're really a puppy then, if that's all of your secrets, Buckley." Casey interjects as he strolls into the room, a stack of papers under his arm.

Buck's cheeks blush at the term 'puppy', which isn't the first occurrence. He was called a puppy a few times. While he takes it in stride, he doesn't know how he feels about it. Some days, he laughs alongside everyone; other days, he does not. "I…umm… yea." He squeaks, as he glances around the room, a bit embarrassed. His eyes zip around the room, eyeing each person for a long second, and as if he has been slapped, he starkly realizes who he is looking for: a certain Squad Lieutenant who is missing from sight. Unsure when the last time he has seen the man, he rewinds the day in his head and quickly fast forwards through it. He doesn't remember seeing Kelly since Steve has shown up.

Setting down his playing cards, Capp takes a large, comical sniff, as he sits at the small round table with Cruz and Ferraris. "So, how did burnt Ramen turn into that? That smells heavenly."

Buck stares at the chili, the aroma simply wonderful though not perfect. While Bobby had basically given him this recipe, he kept one ingredient a secret and had joked that he kept this one ingredient a secret so that Buck would have to keep coming back. Buck's heart skips at the memory. It's a bit hilarious (and painful) to think about it now, him cooking it in Chicago with no communication with his former Captain. "My old Captain thought it was a tragedy that I couldn't cook, so he whipped me into gear." The air in his lung suddenly goes ice cold remembering Bobby's cold stare.

"You know, Casey. You should take this as a sign to teach me your rib—"

"Not a chance, Gallo." Casey shots back.

Watching Casey and Gallo throw playful banter at each other over these ribs, the chilliness in Buck's chest vanishes and his body relaxes, the breath he is holding releasing. Buck can literally sit in his fire house all day and watch these loveable fools banter. The love—Suddenly, someone firmly bumps their shoulder into his, snapping Buck from his thought. While his identity shouldn't surprise him, it's Steve, and he checks on him with his eyes to make sure he is okay before he takes a snuff of the chili. "Hey now, wait your turn or you will have to find another couch to sleep on."

Steve takes a step back, hands in the air. "Geez."

Ritter glances at Steve. "Staying with Buck during your time in Chicago?"

"Yup."

"That's only so he will have to return the favor when I visit him." Buck throws out, getting in his points now.

"Oh, you are visiting me now?" Steve asks, lifting a right eye brow.

If he is being honest, Buck has no idea why he hasn't already visited Steve in Hawaii yet. It is f*cken Hawaii, and this asshole lives on the beach. Buck can literally sleep on the beach every night. "You have a beach in the backyard."

Steve just laughs. "I see how it is. You just want me for my beach."

"I just want you for your beach." Buck reiterates, mischievously.

Gallo's eyes snap to Steve. "Wait, where do you live?"

"He lives in Honolulu. Will you still not tell me how he can afford a beach front property in Hawaii?" Buck inquires, giving Steve the sink eye. Okay, he knows the house is Steve's father, but he has looked up property in Hawaii prior, and let Buck tell you, he would be homeless if he tried to live there.

"I inherited it from my dad." Steve answers as if he hasn't answered this hundred for the hundredth time.

Mouch promptly sits up. "Okay, so you and Buck here are good friends. Does the couch invite extend to the rest of us?" he asks as the entire room looks at Steve. "Because we can all be family."

While Mouch's question is only halfway serious, Buck knows how strongly Steve views family and how he will always provide a bed no matter the situation. If Buck had not ended up in Chicago, he could see Steve forcing him to Honolulu to live with him. Family is everything to Steve, so he may not consider 51 his family but Buck is his family. "Eh," Buck utters. "You wouldn't want to bunk with him unless you want a 5am wake up call to go for a 5-mile swim. He also likes his coffee cups in a specific order." Buck mocks him with his hand, pretending to put an imaginary coffee cup at every 5 inches.

Steve exasperatingly rolls his eyes. "It's very important that there is an appropriate amount of space between them, so they don't get chipped." This got a few laughs. "You just like to throw your cups around."

Buck, grinning, shakes his head in an no motion before he adds the final ingredient to the chili. "Trust me. This guy will send you running for the hills." He pats Steve softly on the chest.

Casey brings his hand to his chin and ponders for a moment. "Hmm. I don't know. I might put up with it for a few days in Hawaii." A round of Yeses follows.

Cruz looks over Capp's shoulder at the two, studying them for a moment before he says, "So, Buck how long were you in the Navy for?"

Buck glances at Steve but answers, "Only a few years, but Stevie here was in for what… 13 years?"

"Not counting the reserves, 14 years, nearly 15." Steve corrects. "Joined when I turned 18."

Herrmann, who had stepped into the room a minute prior, whistles. "Wow, that's a career." He isn't the only one amazed by that. "So, what made you leave the service? After 14 years, I would think you were a lifer. For me, Boden will have to kick me off this job before I leave."

"I currently led a major crime task force for the state of Hawaii." He answers, as he rubs his nose.

"Appointed by the Government herself." Buck adds proudly.

Steve looks off for a second. "Pretty sure she regretted." He snorts to himself.

"Because you are a handful."

As if he has been greatly insulted, Steve blinks at Buck. "Excuse me?! You have that backwards. Does someone have a mirror to show the Kid?"

Buck rolls his eyes. "Ha Ha," he remarks as he tastes test the chili once last time. Once again, he thinks back to Bobby, and once more, his chest is tight. "You're lucky. Food is done." It doesn't take long for a line to form for the yummy smelling chili, and not long after everyone receive their bowls for everyone to sing his praises. These praises force away the chilliness in his heart away, and Buck feels better. Yes, Steve is still eyeing him, his blue eyes piecing right through him. Another reminder that Steve isn't going to let him off the hook without an explanation no matter how much he bats his own blue eyes at him.

*O*O*

"You two are super cute together."

Stella's –mostly innocent—words echo loudly in Kelly's brain, and he curses her for it. While she may play it off, she knew exactly what she was doing, and he hates (though not really) her for it. While the bear hug did surprise him, Kelly didn't (well, tried) put much stock into it. People hug. Men are allowed to hug, even if they are six feet giants with more muscles than anyone should be permitted to have. No, Kelly is not insecure. Although he may sound conceited, he is an extremely good-looking man and has no issues getting dates… well besides the Squirrelly Buck who he had to chase down.

Anyhow, Kelly is totally okay with them hugging, especially big old bear hugs. For example, Matt and he hug a lot. sh*t, this entire firehouse is very hug friendly, him witnessing a hug daily, so Kelly doesn't see anything wrong with hugs, especially if they from old time friends—old time Navy buddies… Yes, Kelly is still stunned by that revelation, though that doesn't change Kelly's opinion of Buck. No in fact, he is more fascinated in Buck's story.

Anyhow, Kelly was okay with that hug until Stella threw out that little line of hers. Like, seriously?! Why did she say that? Okay, 51 is known for ball busting, and weird liners like this are said often between these walls, which is how they show love. Kelly can't tell you how many times he has face-palmed over something Capp has said and don't get him started on Gallo and Ritter, who word vomit. Yet, Stella's words punch him hard in the gut, and it takes several minutes for Kelly to collect his breath. By the time he comes around to even his breathing, Buck, still in his gear, and this Steve fellow had left the apparatus floor and Stella is laughing at him.

He blinks in confusion and fights back the urge to rear back surprised by her close proximity. "H-hey," he utters uneasily.

"Did I break you?" Stella asks, innocently. "Or did that sailor do it for you?"

The word 'Sailor' triggers something deep within him, and a picture—though generated by his horny imagination—of Buck in a white Sailor uniform pops up in his head. Kelly can't tell you how this brain created this mouth dropping image, but he does wonder if Buck has any of his old Naval uniforms hanging around… No, you can't ask him that. His brain tries to reason with him. Why not? I bet he looks so good in that white uniform. I wonder what rank he was. What was his assignment? Kelly shakes his head quickly in a failed attempt to rid himself of it. "Did he do it for you?" he shots back.

"Buck? Oh yea. I bet he looked so pretty in his Navy uniform." Stella's eyes glass over for a second as she forms an image in her own head. "You think he has any of his old uniforms?" She asks with a grin before she pauses as her eyes refocus on Kelly. "Did you know he was in the Navy? I wonder why he never mentioned it."

Kelly doesn't know if Stella means it or if she is teasing him, but knowing her, it's probably a mixture of both. "You can ask him if he does." he replies with a forced smile. He pauses to take a breath. "And he probably has his reasons for keeping it to himself." From what Buck had told Kelly, this tracks. Buck has spent the last months at 118 being isolated, shunned by his former friends, and it takes a while to break through that conditioning and open up.

Stella turns her crushing attention back to Kelly. "So did I break you?" She probes, giving him a Chester Cat smile.

Huffing, Kelly rolls his eyes and turns away. "You're impossible."

An overdramatic hand to her chest, Stella puffs out her lip and acts like she has been morally injured. "Ouch, Kelly Severide. Ouch. I thought you loved me."

Kelly shakes his head and takes a few steps away from Stella before he stops mid step. With his thump, he rubs the length of his bottom lip, his mind still struggling with Stella's comment. A question forces its way forward and bounces hard and painfully against the sides of his head. It tries to break free, but he swallows it down. He isn't ready to hear whatever comes from her mouth, no doubt he will not be a fan of the answer. Why would she say that?

Stella co*cks her head to the side, her smile soft. She stares at the back of his head for a few seconds. "Are you okay, Kelly?" she asks.

"Yup Fine." He basically shoves out his words as he walks away.

*O*O*

While Kelly recognizes the jealousy simmering in his gut, it is harder to push it aside. Yes, he knows it is illogical and not reasonable, and it is definitely not Buck's problem. Yet, it still gets under Kelly's skin, which annoys him. He has no right to feel this way about Buck's friendship; this Steve guy served with Buck in the Navy, an unbreakable brotherhood. Sure, Kelly has just met this man and has no idea how this bond formed, but it's clear as day. There's a protectiveness in Steve's eyes that cannot be ignored, which Kelly understands well. Buck brings it out of people; plus, Buck pulled a bullet out of his arm. That is definitely beer worthy.

With a huff, Kelly shakes his head, attempting to clear his mind. Once again, he wishes he had some paperwork to work on or some additional tools to take apart and clean. Granted, that would involve turning around to face Stella and her inquisitive stare. With her words still bouncing around in his head, he isn't ready to do the self-reflection that she will throw at him. 'Baby' he huffs at himself as he heads to the locker/restroom to wash off his dirty hands.

Kelly stands in front of the bathroom mirror, staring into his own eyes as he washes the oil and dirt from his hand. Even after a few attempts, there is still black under his fingernails. He stares at his darken nails as he takes a deep breath. "It's fine." He tells himself as he turns away from the mirror and heads out to join the rest of the firehouse. He spots and ignores Gallo and Ritter as they spy on the ex-floater and his friend in the conference room.

*O*O*

Kelly, needing something in his hands, grabs today's newspaper and sits at the end of the table in the dining area. He quickly takes note of everyone in the room. He isn't sure why, considering the person he is looking for isn't in the room, and he knows this, considering Buck and Steve McGarrett are in the conference room. He didn't linger outside of the conference room, as they were having a deep conversation and it isn't any of Kelly's business. Granted, Kelly can probably make an educated guess, and honestly, he would love to have some backup in the anti- 118 firehouse club. At the thought, Kelly snorts. He feels a tiny bit sorry for anyone who would face Kelly and Steve.

It's on his fourth attempt at reading the sport page that Gallo and Ritter stroll in, looking pink face and guilty. With these two, Kelly knows better than to ask, as that will get him a rather lengthy crazy story that he doesn't care for. Casey on the hand is rather amused by their stories and will ask.

"What did you two get into?" Casey asks, his eyes in narrow, as he studies the two. "Did you two break something?"

Gallo raises up his right arm over his head and scratches the back of his head. "Buck and his friend caught us staring."

Cruz picks up his head and glances over from the table. His eyes drill into Gallo and Ritter. "Why were you staring at them for? That's creepy"

"Yea, very creepy," Capp throws out, before returning back to the card game. With his tongue sticking out, he stares intently at the playing cards in his hard, taking his time to pick the best card.

Gallo, still pink, waves them off. "It's a firehouse. Nothing is safe. I'm pretty sure we've seen each other naked countless time."

Mouch blinks before he shakes that image out of his head. "No. Don't even put those images into my head or else."

Kelly snorts, silently agreeing with man, as there is no one in this firehouse that he wants to naked… not counting Buck. To Gallo's point, they have seen each other naked plenty of times, but again, in this line of work, it's common and something he is used to. Dealing with emergencies, the alarms can ring at any time, and they may have to jump into action right from the showers. Everyone in this house is used to it, and they each have some kind of mental bleach to rid themselves of those images. "So, what exactly were you two spying on?" he asks, redirecting the conversation. Granted, he doesn't know which conversation is worse: 51's naked bodies or Buck and Steve staring into each other's eyes.

"Gallo is a bit fascinated by Buck's friend." Ritter replies.

Gallo throws Ritter a look. "You are as well. They were both in the Navy, and we were bit curious what they both did."

Casey takes a deep breath. "If Buck wants to tell you, he will. Don't bug him." His tone is clear, this is their only warning.

A memory worms itself form, and Buck's topless—sexy- form appears in Kelly's head. Buckley's several tattoos pop forward in his mind, brighter than he recalls them to be. He quickly goes through each of them, a story that he wants to ask Buck about, until he remembers the skeleton frog on his bicep. While he has never served in the military, he knows tattoos are often used to symbolize service and sacrifice. Failing to recall the meaning behind the frog, he pulls out his phone and googles it quickly. Fortunately, it is a common tattoo in the Navy and the meaning and significance comes up right away.

Kelly blinks, as he rereads the significance, the implication clear. The skeleton frog is a tattoo that honors a fallen Navy Seal, which means Buck was a Navy Seal who lost a teammate. Honestly, Buck being a Seal doesn't really surprise him as Buck runs into danger without a second thought and the kid is built like a horse. That kid is willing to give up his life at any second of any point of the day. However, his heart does go out to Buck as he knows how it feels to lost someone. Between Andy and Shay's death, Kelly has had his heart broken several times.

"What? It was a full-on bear hug," Gallo says, snapping Kelly's attention back to him.

"You jealous, Gallo?" Cruz teases.

Ritter laughs. "I think I am." That earns a few laughs. "That was some hug."

While Kelly spaced out for a second, it doesn't take a genius to figure who Ritter and Gallo caught in a hug. No, Kelly is not jealous as hugs are perfectly fine, especially if he is correct in his assumption about Buck's naval career. So, again, Kelly is okay, but he doesn't want to hear about the big bear hug. "You can ask the guy for a hug. He may give you one," he says, as he gets to his feet, folding the newspaper under his arm. He's going to go hide in his office.

Ritter straights up and shoots Kelly a calculating stare but he pushes it side. "I just might."

*O*O*

Kelly leans back, tilting the chair onto the back legs, as he stares up at the ceiling, throwing a small stress ball up into the air and catching it when it drops. He, clearing out his mind, forces out every thought from his head and focuses on the ball, eyeing the smooth spin. The chair rocks dangerously, when his throw is off and he has to fling his arm back behind him to catch it. "sh*t," he curses, his heart beat picking up, as his chair rocks too far back. His arms fly up and out to the side, dropping the ball, as he tries to balance himself. For nearly ten—long—seconds, he believes he is doomed and going down painfully, but at the last second, he lurks forward saving himself from catastrophe.

The front legs of the chair, which were once in the air, strike the ground hard and almost buckles between Kelly's weight. The loud echo of metal hitting the ground is deafeningly in his ears for a few seconds and he sits perfectly still, collecting his thoughts. "sh*t." He curses, softer this time.

"That was funny."

Kelly, surprised and a bit frustrated, straights his back and whips his head around to see Stella leaning in the doorway. "I'm a funny guy." He replies drily.

With a fat grin, Stella's head bounces side to side as she ponders that. "Sometimes. Sometimes, you are an asshole."

Settling back in his chair, Kelly snorts as he reaches down for the ball. With a cheesy smile, he says, "But a loveable one."

"If you say so."

"I do." Kelly replies cheerily, as he squeezes the ball. "Do you need me?"

"Always, Kelly." Stella smiles. "However, I came to let you know Buck made Chili if you want some and that you don't need to be anti-social."

"Not anti-Social." He huffs softly. While he can see he can see the argument, he hid himself in his office for a few reasons. One, he needed to clear his head (his jealousy is his problem), and two, he just excitedly finished the final touches on his date with Buck, making it perfect. Warmth floods him as he thinks about the soon to be smile on Buck's face when he surprises him. Granted, he isn't sure he will be able to separate Buck from his friend, and he doesn't want to be some third wheel. Though, he supposes he should get to know this guy as this man is important to Buck, which means it is important for Steve and him to like each other. "Just tired."

Stella rolls her eyes, not buying it. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Kelly."

There is no hiding anything from Stella as she will poke and poke until he spills. "I asked Buck out, and-"

Stella snorts and cuts him off, "About time! I thought Foster was going to beat you to it and I can only stall her for so long."

Kelly narrows his eyes, jealous spiking. "What?"

"Don't worry about it. I got it." She grins, as she waves him off. "Is—Wait." She abruptly stops her current sentence and changes course. "Then what do you have to be grumpy about?" She pauses. "Is this about Buck's hot friend and about what I said earlier? About them being cute together? I didn't mean anything by it. They are just two extremely good-looking men." She stares at him, blinking. "Oh, come on, Kelly!"

Why is he getting chastised? "Don't look at me like that!" And again, Kelly knows he is being stupid, which is why he is hiding in his office.

"Will you stop being a child?" she asks, raising one of her eyebrows.

Kelly has no idea how to respond to Stella as she stares him down like that. "I am not," he protests as he pushes up on his chair and gets to his feet. "Can't a guy think in peace?"

Stella laughs at him. "You're in the wrong building for that."

That stops that train of thought as she has Kelly there. "I suppose you are right."

"Damn straight."

*O*O*

Steve and Buck are still at the stove when Kelly strolls in, deep in conversation. He stands in the doorway for a minute observing them before going for a helping of chili. He eyes them from the corner of his eyes as he scoops his steaming, hot chili into the bowl. Seeing the smiles on everyone's face, Kelly pulls a spoon from the drawer to taste, his eyes still on the two men. As he takes a few slips of chili, he, blinking, is stunned. The taste just wows him. Okay, Buck's chili did hit the spot, which everyone is in agreement about.

This includes Steve McGarrett, who looks absolutely flabbergasted. He literally looks like he can be knocked over with a feather as he takes another bite. "Geez, Kid! If I knew you cook this well, I would have visited sooner." He jokes. "Or I could just take you back to Hawaii with me."

Buck is all smiles, which goes directly to Kelly's gut. He has such a jaw dropping smile that Kelly can't stop smiling at. "More Steve McGarrett? Now that is scary."

"Now, you are sounding like Danny."

Buck loudly snorts. "If the shoe fits."

With his bowl of chili in hand, Kelly, eyes still on the two, takes a seat next to Casey who is watching him watch them. This doesn't go unnoticed by Kelly, but he ignores it. "This is good," he absently says to Casey.

"Agreed."

They (whoever they are) say running into burning buildings builds bonds that cannot be destroyed, and Kelly can strongly contest to that. While he isn't best friends (Not braid hair level of friendship) with everyone in this fire house, they are his family, and he will risk his life for every single one of them. Kelly can only imagine what that bond is like between Navy Seals, who spent years together in hell, but the bond Buck and Steve is very evident. It's almost scary to see the look in each of their eyes when they share glances. It is also evidence how much Buck just lights up in his presence. No, Kelly is not jealous.

*O*O*

It's almost time to turn in for the night (them praying for no calls) when Kelly spots Steve twirling a set of car keys on his index fingers heading toward the streets. He has a duffel over one shoulder. "Heading out?" he asks, attempting to be friendly… Not that Kelly has to attempt to be friendly. He is a very friendly person.

Steve stops and straightens up to his full height. "I think you guy had enough of this handsome face." He motions to his face and gives him a big smile.

Yes… "Never." Kelly replies. "So where are you heading? Your hotel?"

"No. The Kid—Buck," Steve corrects, "is letting me crash on his couch." He waves Buck's keys in the air. "Granted, me, at my age—don't tell the kid that-, and couches don't match. Will climb into his bed and probably shove his butt over."

Climb into his bed? What the hell? Who says this? A part of Kelly wonders if someone upstairs hates him and Steve has been sent here to mess with his brain. Like seriously? Who in the hell says this stuff? Is Steve f*cking with him? This man has to be f*cking with him, right? But then again, they say brothers in arms are weird. "I don't think he shares well."

"Not at all."

"Old man!" Buck shouts, his voice cutting throw the air, as he runs to them.

Steve's eye twitches. "You know what."

"What?" Buck cheekily and innocently replies. "Anyhow, just a friendly warning: you mess up my Jeep and I will hurt you."

While there is a playful tone in Buck's tone, Kelly knows that threat is serious. The Ex-Floater has not said it aloud, but Kelly knows the Jeep means a lot to him, an escape hatch for him. It is his baby. "Excuse me? You think you can take me?"

Buck is all smiles. "Yes."

Cheeky Bastard is the first thing that comes to mind when Kelly stares at Buck's beaming face. This is playful Mode Buck, and Kelly finds it highly attractive.

"Who do you think you are? I trained you." Steve protests.

Buck snorts. "A life time ago. Now, I have a Halligan. You got Firefighter Buckley, and he is scary."

"Talking about yourself in the third person now?" Steve playfully counters.

"Yes." Buck resorts, unbashful. However, before he can say another word, the siren erupts throughout the firehouse, awaking the falling asleep firehouse.

"Ambulance 61, Truck 81, car fire."

"Got to go!" Buck shouts and makes a dash to truck 81 as Kelly and Steve step aside to allow the men through.

Kelly eyes each member of truck 81 and Ambo 61 run to their position for a second before he eyes Steve, whose smile had dropped for a second, only for a second. It returns a second later as his eyes zero in on Buck's ass in his turnover gear. While Kelly wishes he was doing more than sitting in the firehouse, he can grateful that he is gifted with image of Buck in his gear.

"I can see why." Steve shots out. His voice isn't soft, but no one is listening with the vehicles roar as they roll out of the firehouse.

"You can see why what?"

"Why people go for firefighters. Those uniform, man."

It takes a second for Kelly to comprehend what Steve McGarrett had just said and who he is talking about. Again, Kelly is not jealous as Steve and Buck are Seal buddies, brothers in every way but blood…. And yet, he is making odd comments like that. What the hell?! Stop it. He tries to tell himself. Puffing out his cheeks, he glances up to reply to Steve, but the man is gone as he had already made it to the driveway, heading toward Buck's Jeep.

Against his better judgement, Kelly watches Steve as he walks away, and damn it, that man is just as good-looking walking away. Again, Kelly is a very good-looking man, which he knows very well, but Steve is a 6ft something god with the arms to match. He can only imagine what his abs look like under his tight shirt. Then, he has that million-dollar smile, the smile that could charm anyone. Plus, with those pretty blue eyes of him, Kelly doesn't know how Steve isn't fighting off suitors. sh*t, Kelly curses as he finds himself visualizing that smile.

Kelly deeply breathes through his mouth and exhales through his nose. He isn't sure how long this Steve guy is staying in town or how long he is staying in Buck's place—possibly in his bed-, but he isn't sure he will be able to last for long. Kelly isn't super religious, but he glances up and says a silent prayer to whoever is up there to give him the grace to outlast Steve. He will need all of the help that he can get, or he may just go crazy.

Chapter 21: Harsh Words and Threats

Chapter Text

Chapter 21:

Harsh Words and Threats

Los Angeles

Against popular belief, Eddie is not stupid. Yes, while he has been blinded by his anger several times, he—generally—is a smart guy who can quickly pick up things. So, when Christopher's mood abruptly changes for the better, he knows something is up, and seeing his son smiling and beaming at his tablet, he puts two and two together. Buck must've finally- yes, finally- reached out to Christopher through the game, the realization hitting Eddie like a hard fist. At first, Eddie isn't sure how he feels. Okay, he's grateful as that's what's best for his son. Christopher needs Buck, but he can't help but be a little bitter.

Why did it take so long? Did Buck have to drag it out? Surely, he had to have known that this or any silence would hurt Christopher? So why? But then again, why did Buck have to leave? Why was he such a coward? Stop it! He yells at himself. "Just stop it." This time, he voices it aloud. "You're the asshole in this situation. This is on you." Maybe, if he hears it, he'll believe it and stop being a damn fool. With a deep breath, he can admit that it does sting to hear these words and he can admit that this is more complicated than he pretends it to be. Buck didn't leave for sh*t and giggles, and he definitely didn't go silent with Christopher for heck of it. No, Buck ghosted all of them because of their-No, Eddie corrects himself, he ghosted you f*ckers because of you. Buck left because he was unhappy. Unhappy from his former friend's horrific treatment of him.

This isn't a new realization as Eddie had seen this deep sadness in the man since before the lawsuit, but his anger and his grief were (still is) too overwhelming for him to understand how badly he hurt Buck. God, that thought is a kick to the gut. How did he go from being besties with Buck to uncaring and cruel? His first impulse is to blame it on his military trauma, which he will never be rid of. At times, all he can see is blood and guts. His second is to blame Christopher's traumatic birth, where for half a second, he thought his son and wife were going to die. His death would have followed, death by broken heart. His third was Shannon's death, him watching her take her last breath. Her death especially f*cked him up. She was the mother of son, his wife. A person he had loved with his entire heart once. Having to tell Christopher that his mother was never coming back broke something inside of Eddie, and he doesn't think that piece can ever be repaired. Then to add that trauma to the rest of his traumas, it is amazing that he can even stand.

Anyhow, back to the point: Eddie has a lot of trauma and misplaced anger, and it was unfair to aim it at Buck. Yet, he did. With an image of a laughing Buck and Christopher swirling around his head, he can't believe that he unloaded this intense anger and piercing pain onto Buck, and it makes him physically ill thinking about how much he enjoyed unleashing his anger unto Buck. How could he have been so blind?! Yes, yes. He knows why, and sh*t, even now he still mad. Mad that—

Stop it. Stop it! Stop it!

Eddie takes a deep breath, counting slowly down from 100. His anger is an angry beast, and it takes an excruciatingly long bit for him to calm down, his heart refusing to slow. "65…64…63" he voices and pauses between count to take a deep breath. Eventually, his heart beat returns to normal, and feeling more like himself (whatever that is), he stops counting and gets to his feet. Taking another deep breath, Eddie stands there for a moment as he attempts to clear his mind, putting himself on a sunny beach. It takes a few tries.

"Mijo," Eddie calls as he steps into the living room. For the first time in a while, Christopher isn't hiding in his room…or hiding from him. That helps his aching, beating heart.

Christopher, their relationship still off, glances up at his father. "Hey." He replies softly. His eyes are back on the tablet a second later.

While Eddie knows who Christopher is talking to, he doesn't want to point it out, scared of how his son will react. He doesn't want his son to feel guilty for talking to Buck; plus, he's also scared of what he will say when it is confirmed to be Buck, so he would rather pretend he doesn't know for a while longer. "Hey." He nods his head as he sits next to the young boy.

"Hey."

Eddie snorts, a smile gracing his face, and throws out, "Hola." Christopher's face scrunches up at the Spanish. Before the lawsuit, Christopher and he practiced their Spanish every day, while Buck and Christopher watched Spanish telenovelas. Both Buck, with a goofy smile on his face, and Christopher would talk a million miles an hour as they discussed what was going on. Eddie didn't care to watch, his focus on his giggling boys—Buck's not yours, his mind supplies—and not the show. Granted, the times that he did listen to show, Buck surprisingly wasn't wrong.

"Dad," he says, stretching out the last 'd'.

"What?" He innocently grins, which earns him a dramatic eye roll. "Did you want to do something with me? Or are you too focused on that?" he asks, pointing a sharp finger at the tablet. Christopher jolts and yanks the tablet away from his dad, holding it up to his chest. His son's stark reaction startles the Firefighter, and he leans away, his smile dropping. "Mijo."

Christopher stares at his dad, not blinking, before he exhales the breath he is holding. "Just playing." He says a tad too quickly.

Eddie nods. "Cool."

"Yup." A few seconds pass.

Eddie is glad Christopher's anger is gone, but he could do without this awkwardness. This is your fault, his mind declares, which he doesn't dispute. "So… do you want to do something with me?"

"Like what?" Christopher asks calmly, now holding the tablet-screen down- on his lap.

His response stuns Eddie, still expecting his son to reject him. "Video games? Or… we can go out. The zoo? We can go to a baseball game too if you like. Anything you want." He is desperate, throwing out ideas.

Christopher takes a deep breath and shakes his head, his grip tight on the tablet. "Can you tell me why Buck left?" He asks cautiously, his voice soft and low.

An intense anger flashes up inside Eddie, his hand balling at his side, at the thought of Buck dragging his name through the mud to his own sun. But don't you deserve that? He violently shakes his head before his mind replies with 'Buck would never do that,' which is correct. Buck isn't a petty or revengeful person. Eddie isn't sure Buck even has a vicious bone in his bone. He doesn't think he has ever seen him truly enraged. Yes, he has seen and heard Buck rant, but never truly angry. Upset yes, but never mean or nasty. "Um…well." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "Listen, Bud. It isn't important. Mistakes happen."

"Like what?" Christopher asks, his tone shifting. It is more accusatory.

Judging by his tone and blank star, Eddie knows he won't be able to get out of this without some kind of an explanation. However, there's no way that he can voice the true reason without wanting to punch himself in the face. If he could go back in time, he would, though he doesn't know if he can trust himself not to be the same asshole as he doesn't trust his ability to control his anger regarding the lawsuit. The lawsuit still leaves a bad taste in his mouth, and he has no doubt that he would still be a dick, but he hopes he wouldn't have been as cruel.

Eddie inhales deeply and exhales slowly as he meets his son's eyes. He has seen those sharp eyes pointed at a few people throughout his life, but having it pointed at him throws Eddie off and his brain bluescreens. Puffing out his cheeks, he closes his eyes, and, drowning in that toxic dread, thinks back to the time after Shannon's death. "Your mother's death affected me in ways that I didn't know was possible." He painfully swallows. "I didn't respond well, and my anger got the better of me. It is one of my greatest regrets."

Christopher's heart is thumping so badly that Eddie feels his nerves from here. "So…you were m-mean to Buck." His voice squeaks at the end.

Just like that, Eddie shatters, and he just wants the floor to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. "Yes." He is struck hard by his own answer that his world spins.

"So, you are the reason why Buck left." He says softly and harshly at the same time.

Eddie's chest constricts painfully. "We both made some mistakes." He replies hastily and anxiously, though he isn't sure he believes it. Yes, he will still stand behind the fact Buck wasn't ready to return to work. Neither were you. His mind counters. After Shannon's death, he refused to stop for even a second, his thoughts too nasty and cruel. To prevent thinking- to prevent living-, he pushed himself forward. Had to focus on anything except Shannon's death and his bloody hands. Hands covered in the blood belonging to Christopher's mother.

"Really?" Christopher accuses, his eyes cutting right through Eddie. "Was he mean to you?"

Once more, Eddie wonders what Buck told his son, but considering Christopher is talking to him, he must've given Christopher an edited version, which Eddie is grateful for. Chicken. You're glad you don't have to face the truth. "No. He…ah…wasn't. I was wrong. It's just that Buck…" He pauses to take several deep breaths. With a puff, he says, "He…umm… He pushed himself too hard too fast, which I think is a lesson we all need to learn. We have to be aware of our own failures… I didn't realize that I wasn't ready to return to the job after your mother's death. I was a mess. So much like I had done, Buck failed to listen to Bobby and was willing to do whatever it took to get back on the job. Whatever it took."

At the word 'mother', Christopher's stare softens and his eyes gross over, but he doesn't offer any words of encouragement.

Eddie waits a few seconds to see if his son will say anything. Christopher just sits there in silence, holding his tablet close to his chest. "But that doesn't excuse me. I made some mistakes. I made a lot of mistakes." Eddie says softly. The words burn as he speaks. They don't burn because he sees them as a lie; rather, they burn because they are true. "There are so many things that I wish I could take back."

Christopher shakes his head and asks, "Do you still hate Buck for the lawsuit?"

*O*O*

Chicago

Buck cannot tell you how this happened. He can't tell you how Steve can be so nimble and agile at his large size, but man, the former navy seal, is a sneaky bastard. A very sneaky bastard. Somehow Steve is driving his jeep and Buck is stuck in the passenger's seat, looking like someone has kicked his puppy. This should be illegal, but fighting with Steve over the driver's seat will only give Buck a major headache. Instead, Buck just pouts like a child, though he will deny it if poked.

Unfortunately for Buck, Steve likes to poke. "Do you need some ice cream for that pout?" he teases as he drives through the streets of Chicago like a pro.

"I don't know why you have to drive my jeep." Buck, his eye twitching, whines.

"You know why." He says matter of fact as if he has explained this to Buck a million times.

Pouting like a toddler, Buck rolls his eyes and huffs. "Suurrreee…"

Steve shots Buck a pointed, yet offended glare. "Sure?! What is that supposed to mean? You think I'm lying about getting car sick?" he dramatically asks, playing up how affronted he is. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Spotting the familiar building on his street, Buck is tempted to drop this playful—though annoying-conversation as he is too sleepy to deal with Steve and his silliness. However, Steve would take that silence as confirmation that he won, and Buck cannot let that stand. "Yes." He states firmly. "We can ask your wallet how many times you 'left'"—Buck adding air quotes— "it at home to avoid paying for drinks."

Replacing his pointed glare, Steve is gasping like a damn fool. "I would never."

"You would never not." If Buck didn't know Steve, he would've thought he had insulted Steve as his mouth hangs open in disbelief. "You know Freddie,"—Buck's heart aches at the memory—"had a drinking game regarding the number of times that you 'had' forgetting your wallet." He says, putting air quotes around 'had.'

"Why do you hate me? I left the wonderful, beautiful, warm state of Hawaii to fly to this sh*t hole to check in on you. Where is the love?" He takes one hand off the wheel and waves to the city. "I can smell it through the window."

Even though Buck is a new resident of Chicago, a protective roar flashes up inside of him. This place is his home, and no one will smack talk it front of him. "Hey now, don't knock Chicago. At least, we don't have to cut off an arm and leg—just an arm here- to live unlike in Hawaii, where locals get priced out of their homes for B and Bs."

The 'pained,' shocked expression falls from his face, as he sighs. "I can't deny that," he grumbles. "It's a real issue." Steve pulls up to Buck's apartment and parks in the first available parking space. "But you can't deny this isn't the best part of town."

"I am aware." Buck huffs as he gets out of his Jeep.

*O*O*

"Who do we have here?"

Buck stiffens up, his hand freezing on the doorknob, as the chilling voice cuts through the firefighter like a sharp knife. "Dom." He stiffly articulates, wishing the man away. When that obviously fails, he straightens up and meets the man's cold, calculating stare. "A friend." he answers dryly. Picking on up Buck's tone, Steve straightens up and zeros in on the man, and a familiar cold, calculating expression falls unto Steve's stoic face. Buck is instantly reminded how deadly—yes, deadly- Steve can be when the situation calls for it.

Dom, hand on his chin, takes a large step forward, his eyes in fine points. "A friend? Or cop? He looks like a cop." He replies, his tone missing any of his normal charmed—not that Buck considered this man charming. Dom is the opposite of charming. "Is he a cop?"

Buck blanks. While Steve isn't CPD, he is a cop, and he doubts that Dom would appreciate any cop regardless of where they are from, especially if he is trying to funnel in drugs from out of state. "Not a cop. He just whipped my ass in the Navy." Buck answers quickly. "He was one of the seals instructors. Put the fear of god into me and made my ass hurt quite a few times." A few seconds pass before it dawns on Buck what he said. His cheeks go cherry red.

Steve, stunned, turns his blue eyes onto Buck, his narrowing eyes going large before he forces a blinding smile on his face. It takes a second Steve to collect his thoughts. "He had a big head." He replies, turning back to Dom.

A second passes as Dom ponders. "Are all instructors friends with all of their seal rejects?" His eyes shift between the two.

Without missing a beat, Steve's grin grows and goes, "There are some people you can't shake. Buckley is one of them. He will just tie you down and not let you go."

For a second—still hot over his misstep with his words-, Buck forgets about Dom and gets offended. "Hey now!" A deeper blush forms on his face when reality hits and he remembers Dom. "But anyhow," he coughs, painfully and loudly. "Nice talking to you, Dom." He squeaked out. Not. "However, I had a long day at the fire house, and I just want to sleep."

"And you?" Dom asks, extremely interested in Steve.

"Just going to watch him sleep."

Buck coughs, his brain taking a second to reboot. "Yea…um…What?"

"Excuse us." Steve doesn't wait for a response before he sets his hand on Buck's shoulders and manhandles—yes manhandles—him into the apartment. He closes the door behind them, purposely and swiftly locked the door behind him. He lets go of Buck and crosses to the window. With his back against the wall, he hooks the curtain with two of his fingers and moves the curtain just enough to peek out. "What did you get yourself into now, Buckley?"

There is no judgement—or maybe there was?— in Steve's tone, but Buck feels it. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Steve snorts as he lets go of the curtain and turns his attention back to Buck. "You remember the time that you almost got kicked out of the Navy over some Admiral's daughter?" He asks, deadpanned.

Buck's face scrunches up as if someone waves something nasty under his nose. "That isn't fair. I didn't realize she was his daughter. And she hit on me first." That specific Admiral was never his biggest fan, though Buck blames Steve for that. Steve, who is not scared to let you know that your plan sucks, bucked head with the Admiral a lot.

"Yea, but you're the one who wanted to show off to some random girl without knowing who she is." Steve shoots out. "Oh, don't forget the time you almost got arrested for flirting with the younger brother of the—"

"Okay. Okay. I get it." Buck waves him off. "But I wasn't flirting. This is just my face."

"Such a pretty face." Buck snorts. Steve co*cks his head to the side, and with his joking tone gone, he replies, "So, what is the story with Dom. I know you don't like to tell people you were a seal to avoid the 'yes, I killed people' conversation, but I don't know you to lie about it straight out." He pauses. "I hadn't forgotten about you being in Chicago thing. You still owe me that explanation."

Buck's eye twitches. "I know." He huffs, knowing he promised Steve an explanation, but he is exhausted from his shift. However, maybe he should just tell Steve so he can get it over with, but he is too tired. His brain is malfunctioning. "Can I get some sleep first?" He asks, angling himself to the bed.

Knowing the younger man, Steve looks Buck up and down. "Buck." he calls, speaking like an annoyed older brother.

"Okay." After taking a deep breath, Buck exhales deeply. "Which one do you want first?" Unlike Kelly, Steve knows a few key points already. Having seen the news, Steve knows about the tsunami and the fire truck, but Buck never told him about the sh*t that went down after the lawsuit. Yes, sh*t is a good word to describe the events post lawsuit. It was just sh*t.

Steve, crossing to the couch, motions for Buck to take a seat as if this is his home. Why does everyone act like this is their house? "Sit."

"If I sit, I'll fall asleep." Buck blows out slowly before he starts his story. After telling Boden, Casey, and Kelly, he has it down pat, knowing exactly what he's going to say. He tells him about how Bobby kept him back and blamed it on the white shirts. He, his heart beating a million miles per second, tells Steve about lawsuit, while trying not to bite his lip in his nervous fit. He stumbles over the lawsuit details, still embarrassed at how far his lawyer took even if Casey and Boden told him he had nothing to be embarrassed over. It is nearly impossible to keep his voice even when he mentions the settlement and the millions that he won which do not go unnoticed by Steve.

"I assume by this apartment you did not take it."

"I did not."

"I also assume you and your team didn't pick up exactly where you guys left off prior to the lawsuit."

Buck swallows deeply, his heart pounding in his ear. While a weight was lifted off his chest when he told Casey, Boden, and Kelly, he hates having to relive this story over and over. He hates having to think about it, still in denial that his fire family would do such a thing. He is also upset with himself for taking it so far. "To say they were unhappy is an understatement. They couldn't understand why this job was so important to me, not understanding why I needed this." He states loudly, pulling at the CFD logo on his sh*t. There is a question hanging over his head, and Buck is almost too scared to ask it. "Can you understand?" He asks restlessly and desperately.

Steve, clocking each twitchy movement, gives Buck a gentle smile before answering, "I got shot, had a kidney transplant, and went back to work almost immediately. So, yes, I understand."

Steve getting shot doesn't surprise Buck, the firefighter expecting it to be a daily occurrence, but a kidney transplant throws him. "You what? Which time was this?"

"Pretty sure my entire team wanted to tie me to the bed, but it's fine. I was fine. Nothing I cannot handle. Reopening my stitches? But sshhhh, it is fine." Steve waves it off.

Buck doesn't disagree. "And no one to kick your ass out."

"The good thing about being the boss. Danny would have if he could have," Steve smiles and adds. "But back to you."

Buck grumbles to himself, his exhaustion still hitting him like a truck. He wobbles on his feet, and it takes too much energy to keep upright. "Okay." Regarding the abusive and hostility that he faced after he returned to the 118, he tries to keep it general and simple like he had with Boden and Casey. However, Steve doesn't let him off the hook that easily.

"Evan." Steve says evenly and sternly, the order clear.

"What?" Buck utters, acting innocent.

Steve levels Buck with a piercing stare. "You're a former Navy Seal. I trained you myself, so I know it takes more than a few cold shoulders to get to you."

"Okay." Buck takes a deep breath and tells Steve everything. As with Kelly, he can spot the muscles twitch in Steve's perfect face as he explains what happened after his return to the 118. He, fighting back tears, explains how he felt isolated. He explains how nothing he did was good enough. A shudder running through his body, he tells him how the rest of the shift ripped him apart each shift and how the house no longer felt like a home. He can tell that Steve has some comments, his jaw stiff in anger and his hand balled, but he doesn't speak, allowing Buck to continue his story.

Without stopping, Buck continues, explaining why he left LA and why he stayed in Chicago. His face goes pink as he explains—rather awkwardly- why he stayed at 51. Even he winks at the number of times he mentioned Kelly's name. Do I always sound like this when I talk about Kelly? Avoiding any mentions of Kelly cornering him in the turnout room for a make out session, Buck explains how he met Adam and got dragged into this uncover assignment. He explains how Casey and Boden know, ready to pull the plug if needed but he wants to see this through. Again, Buck can see the muscles in Steve's jaw twitch when he mentions how Dom has taken an unhealthy interest in him. "And that's how we got here."

Steve, his smile gone, runs a hand down his face, thinking about everything Buck had just told him. The former Navy Seal Commander, now on his feet, will deny he has any tells, but he is showing all of them. As he paces from the door to the couch, the muscles in his left arm spasm visibly as he flexes his hand into a tight fist. His right eye twitches, while he swallows some thick huffs. Looking like a bull, it takes a few seconds before he can form a sentence, though it isn't much. "Give me a second." He says, breathing through his nose.

Buck does give him a second even though with each passing second his nerves grow. He can feel the anger rolling off Steve, an intense tide wave of fury. "Yea, I know it is a lot."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

That is the million-dollar question, isn't it? But there isn't just one answer to that. One, he was—still is—embarrassed by the fact that it happened, that he let it happen. Two, he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone. His parents have drilled that into him. Burdens are unwanted. Three, he was scared of Steve's reaction. He knows how protective the man can be, and he will rain hell down on anyone who hurt his family. "I should have," Buck answers, honestly. "I just couldn't see a way out."

Coming to a stop, Steve exhales slowly, his nose flaring, and deflates. "But are you okay?"

It takes a second for Buck to answer as he ponders the question. Adam and his undercover assignment aside, he is truly happy. This is his home now. "Yes. I am. Good in fact."

Puffing out one last breath, Steve nods and says, "Okay."

That is a loaded okay, but Buck isn't sure what to make of it. While there is no outward hostility towards him, Steve was mostly quiet during his story, only pushing him along when he got stuck. "Just, okay? That's all you got?"

Steve takes a deep breath as he rubs his chin. "Do you want the truth?"

Buck's heart stops and he swallows, "Yes?" Is Steve going to tell him he is wrong? Is Steve going to hate him? Steve had talked about how important trust is among your teammates and how they are your family. Family is important to Steve and Buck just broke it. Will Steve hate him? He can't have Steve hating him.

"Stop that."

"W-what?" Buck asks, as he tries to slow down his heart.

Steve motions to Buck's face, waving at his expression. "That face. You can kill someone with that. Put it away."

Buck wavers on his feet. "Okay."

"Stop." Steve says firmly. "You're your worst enemy, you know?"

"I…Um…I…" Buck's first reaction is to deny this, but literally nothing comes to mind, and he is pretty sure Casey, Kelly and Boden would agree. "…Yea."

Not speaking for a minute, Steve watches Buck's expression morph between anger, sadness, and acceptance. While crossing back to the couch to say, he says, "Nothing the 118 did was okay. It will never be okay. Never. Personally, I understand exactly why you did what you did and would probably do the same. Again, I pushed myself way too hard and too quickly after my kidney transplant. I reopened my stitches a few times. But as a commander—a leader-, I could never allow someone under my command to do so. I can't help but see your former Captain's point. Blood thinners are dangerous for a first responder."

This is the same thing Boden has pointed out, and Buck can see that. "I know." He mutters, deflating.

Steve exhales deeply. "Again, your Captain didn't handle this correctly. It was his job to guide you and he failed."

The word 'failed' ringed in Buck's ear. "Yea."

"I don't know if a lawsuit was the way to go, but I can see why you did it. If you had asked me, I would have just kidnapped you. I doubt Danny or the team would have minded."

"Would you have?" Buck asks, knowing he wouldn't have rejected Steve's offer.

"I totally would have offered up my home. I am willing to do it know, but I am not sure that Severide guy would like that." He chuckles. "But I can take him." he flexes.

While it hurts to hear Steve say he disagrees with the lawsuit, Buck agrees. The lawsuit was his desperation, a manifestation of his fears, and it was his willingness to do whatever it took to be a firefighter, his life purpose. His lawyer did warn him that this lawsuit would destroy any hope of being a firefighter again, but Buck was too blinded by his pain and desperation to listen. "I wish I could take it back." It takes a second. "Yea…. Ah… Kelly…." Buck shakes his head not willing to finish that statement.

"I know." Steve smiles weakly. "So, I'll put my unbridled anger at your old firehouse—I will touch back on it later as no one deserves to be treated like that. And I mean no one.— away for now. I do want to kick their asses though. We can touch back on Kelly too." He pauses. "However, this Dom guy takes priority."

Buck can taste Steve's anger. "Hopefully, this will be over in our next meetings. I just need to him to tell me about the drugs."

"It isn't going to be that easy." Steve deadpans, his tongue running across his tongue. "I have been a cop for a while now, Kid. It is never that easy."

Deep down, Buck knows that, especially as he is more unluck than not. However, he's going to keep positive thoughts. "A guy can hope?"

Steve stared at him. "Who is in charge of this thing?"

"A man name Voight. He heads the intelligence unit, but the guy I'm working with is Adam Ruzek." Buck thinks about Adam for a second, and while there are times Buck wants to hang him from the aerial, he isn't half bad. In fact, they get along well when they aren't talking about the case. He is a worthy video game opponent. "He isn't horrible."

"Hm." Steve hummed. "I will be the judge of that."

Buck narrows his eyes. "What does that mean?"

Steve turns to the door, his legs moving as on a mission. As he puts his hands on the doorknob, he stops and turns back to Buck. "That can wait. You should probably get some sleep. I can give this Voight a talking too later."

Buck literally went blue screen for a second, his brain erroring. While he has only met the man once, he isn't sure that that is the best idea. Plus, he is honestly scared for that meeting. "Okay."

"Wait. Just one last thing." With a swift movement, Steve is back at Buck's side and pulls Buck into a tight hug. Buck doesn't fight and wraps his arms around Steve. He loses himself in Steve's warmth. Steve gives the best hugs.

*O*O*

If it wasn't for Buck's exhaustion and lack of sleep, he doubts he would've fallen asleep so easily and quickly. He's lying if he says he isn't worried about Steve going ape sh*t on the 118 or Adam or his boss. He has a few bad dreams about it, and they aren't far from the truth as Steve is ready to go as soon as Buck is up. The younger man barely gives gets two words out before he is handed a plate of eggs and is told to eat up so they can go. It takes a few seconds for Buck to figure out where, his brain still lagging. "What?"

"What what?"

"You know wh—" Buck's phone whistles—a text coming in-, stopping him in his tracks. Giving Steve a quick 'Don't play' stare, he glances down at the phone and stiffens when she spots Adam's number. "He hesitates for a season before he opens it.

Steve straightens up. "Is there an issue? Or did they just beat me to it?"

Buck's face scrunches up as he reads the text from Adam. "Dom texted Adam, the officer that I am working with, asking him about the Navy seal that showed up at my door. Little scared you are a cop."

"I am a cop." Steve grins, pauses for a second. "Well not CPD."

"Yea, either way, we don't want him to know that," Buck softly and dejectedly chuckles to himself. Mumbling to himself, he whispers, "I still don't know how you are a cop."

"Hey!"

sh*t. Buck smiles, his cheeks a slight red. "What? You don't have the…." He hesitates for a second as he tries to find the right word. "Right… patience for it."

Steve nails him with a pointed glare. "Been talking to Danny, have you?" He waits for a second as if daring Buck to confirm. "I am wonderful. Not my fault people are idiots."

Knowing he can't let Steve go down this rabbit hole, he changes the topic. "Anyhow, Adam wants to meet. He's worried Dom is scared… Well, not scared overall." Buck waves his hands in a sweeping motion. "I don't believe that man is scared of anything. I am pretty sure he has gutted people for the hell of it; so, yea, just worried you are a cop."

Steve's playful glare changes, more calculating. "Then let's meet this Adam and this Voight fellow."

*O*O*

Adam gives Buck an extremely out of the place to meet, and after pulling it up on google and grabbing a jacket, Buck and Steve head right out. Of course, Steve is driving, simply staring at Buck when he questions it. Buck has been living in this city for much longer, but again, Steve has to drive. He has the keys in his hand before Buck can comprehend how. "I'm not going to drive my own vehicle any time soon, am I?"

Steve shots him a sharp look. "How many times do I have to remind you? I get car sick if I don't drive."

Buck dramatically rolls his eyes. "Suurreee." He teases, rolling his tongue. Again, Buck has never brought the 'I get car sick when I don't drive' excuse, but he—for the most part—let Steve use the excuse. It may be weird, but he, when he isn't dead on his feet, enjoys this game with Steve, feeling like two brothers messing with each other even if it is several times a day. So, while there is annoyance, there is no anger. However, he would never tell Steve that as that would only energize him.

When they pulled up to the location—an old empty lot with a layer of gravel-, there's already a vehicle waiting there, hiding halfway by an old concrete pillar. Steve stops the jeep for a moment like he is contemplating turning around, but after a quick scan of the area, he presses the gas and continues forward. As they get closer, two dark figures manifest in the car, though their faces are undisguisable. Steve's expression is unreadable, but Buck knows how he gets when he puts on that face. "Why are you more stressed than I am?"

Steve huffs, his nose flaring, as he puts a healthy amount of space between them when he parks. "I am not stressed." After switching the car off, Steve slips the keys into his pockets and shots a glance at Buck. "I'm not going to hold back."

"I don't expect anything less, though try not to punch anyone. They can arrest you here."

Steve snorts before his expression changes, ice cold. "I can't make any promises." This frosty tone gives Buck pause.

With a deep breath, Buck shakes his head and pushes that frosty tone of Steve's to the side while he reaches for the door handle. "The death of me. You will be the death of me," he mumbles to himself as he pushes the door open and steps out, hot nerves going up his arm. Steve follow suits, which triggers the individuals in the other car to step out. Buck's eyes automatically drop to their guns before popping up their eyes. Adam's form is as clear as day to Buck, recognizing him from anywhere, but it takes a few seconds for him to recognize Voight, having only saw him once.

"I can see why Dom is worried." Adam announces, as he, adjusting his gun on his belt, crosses to them. His eyes linger on Steve's large form. "You do scream cop."

"Well, that's easy to explain I am a cop." Steve replies, nonchalantly with a soft struggle. Voight's eyes narrow.

"Though far from your jurisdiction," Buck teases, balling his hands into his pocket of his bomber jacket, as he gives Steve his famous Buck smile. "How-"

"So, who do we have here?" Voight asks, interrupting Buck and getting directly to the point.

Buck doesn't know Voight, only meeting him once in Boden office, well enough to judge his hot glances, but man, he is intense. Swallowing awkwardly, Buck shifts uncomfortably under his hot glare. It's like he is looking right through him.

"Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett," Steve says stiffly, not offering his hand. The muscles, arms folded across his arms, twitch. "I currently run a major crime task force for the state of Hawaii." Just like Voight, Steve gives both officers the once over, measuring them up. "The Kid here was under my commander in the Navy, and no matter how much time passes, I will always keep a watch over him."

"Hawaii, huh," Adam echoes.

"Yes. Hired by the Governor herself." Steve adds.

If Voight is impressed by it, he does show it. "I heard about that task force," he replies, not taking his eyes off the Hawaiian Cop. "Doesn't your task force have full immunity and means? I bet that comes in handy."

"It does." Steve answers, his voice stiff.

Adam rubs his nose. "But surely, you don't mean full immunity? There has to be some things you can't do."

Buck can't lie and say that the phrase 'full immunity' doesn't make him nervous because it does. Everyone needs checks and balances, everyone. This includes Steve, who Buck himself had to pull back a few times in the past. There's the one time specifically that Buck remembers that Steve had to do the same for him. It has been years, years, and yet, Buck has never been angrier in his life than that one moment. If Steve hadn't been there to pull him back, he doesn't know what he would've done. Sure, he has been angry—Buck loses count when he thinks back on the last year or so-, but never to that level. Buck thanks God every day that Steve checked him.

So, for cops, those balances are especially important, as they are tested every day either by their own ethics and/or the lack of ethics of those they serve. Buck isn't hip to all that Steve does, but he does know Steve pushes boundaries and had shot a guy while in custody fearing a nuclear bomb on Hawaiian soil. He is aware of why, and he can't blame Steve for acting the way he did, but he can admit that he would be scared if someone else had that ability. Steve is an honorable man who protect those who cannot do so. He isn't dirty. No doubt a dirty cop would've taken the immunity and done some real damage.

Steve eyes Adam for a second before turning back to Voight. "Well, I can't go around killing people. That would be frown upon." He holds Voight heated stare.

Buck glances at Steve from the corner of his eyes, not sure where this is going, but if he were to judge Steve's tone, he isn't going to like it. He shots Steve a side way glance checking in with him with his eye.

Voight holds Steve's piercing gaze. "That is true anywhere." He pauses, takes a step forward, and offers his hand, "Sergeant Hank Frank. I run Chicago-"

"I know who you are," Steve firmly cuts him off. "I am also aware of your reputation."

Confused, Buck straightens up and pulls his hands from his pockets. "What?" he utters. He knows there is bad blood between 51 and Voight, but no one had ever mentioned why. He is tempted to ask, but he never found the right moment to ask. Plus, it didn't seem like it was his place to ask.

Lowing his hand, Voight takes a step back. "Have you?" he states, calmly. "All good things, I hope."

Steve rubs tongue across his teeth, his annoyance clear as day. "No. You have quite the reputation. Some call you a dirty cop."

"You can't believe everything you hear," Adam points.

For a second, Steve's hot focus is on Adam, his eyes in fine points. "Sure, we can't believe everything we hear, but I have some reliable sources."

"Like who?"

"A Former Chicago SWAT Captain." Steve answers. His eyes cut back to Voight. "I know PD suspected you of a few murders. Revenge killing of your son's murderer for one."

Voight, nodding softly, hums. "As I am still here with this," he replies as he motions to his badge, "Baseless rumors."

Buck blinks, as this is all news to him. If this cop murdered a man, what else have he done? Is this why the 51 dislikes him? Or is it something else? His brain can't seem to wrap its mind around it. "What?"

"You can deny that, but you can't deny the fact that you attempted to plant drugs Captain Matthew Casey after he refused to be paid off regarding a DUI with your son, and when that didn't work, you sent a man to 'teach him a lesson'. Or rather, you set him up to be killed, which you got arrested for. Only released due to IA's request for some undercover work."

"That's some source you have," Voight replies, unbothered by it.

"That's why there is bad blood between you and 51!" Buck shouts in astonishment. The awkwardness and anger in both Casey and Boden make sense. This man was—is?—a threat. "What the hell?!"

Voight shoots a glance toward Buck. "We are getting side tracked."

"Are we?" Steve asks, flexing his fight fist. "I say we are on point. Why should the Kid risk his life for you?"

"It isn't for him." Adam, choking on the hostility in the air, takes a large step forward, and places himself between Voight and Steve. "This is for safety of the public." He shoots everyone a glance. "I think we can all agree that no one is perfect, and there are things that we all wish we can do differently. Right now, we have to deal with Dom, and he is spooked."

"First, I think we need to make some things clear. We are in charge here." Voight inserted, pointing to himself.

Steve, puffing out his chest, unfolds his arms and runs a hand down his chin. "Okay. Let's be clear. I don't care who is in charge. I'm not leaving. I am here checking on my brother after the sh*t he went through."

Buck has always claimed Steve as his brother, but it always touches his heart to hear Steve say it. Stop getting distracted. He tells himself, as he tries not to drown in the tension. "Okay. Okay. Okay!" he shouts, still stunned that Voight tried to hurt and/or kill Casey. No matter the length of time he has been at 51, he is pissed off on Casey's behalf. How can Casey even be in the same room as this man without losing his cool? "Let take a deep breath." He takes a dramatic breath for show. "I am still willing to help. So, can we get back to point?" Buck waits a second to see if anyone disagrees. "While I still don't understand why Dom is interested in me, I think we still fine."

"Do you, Buckley?" Voight asks, turning his calculating eyes to him.

"From my experience in uncover," Buck starts, thinking back to his Seal days, "the best covers have some truth to it. I obviously don't live in the best part of town and keep to myself for the most part. I am a loner. So, let's play up the fact that I was chased out of LA with only the clothes on my back." He puts a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Steve is just checking on me."

Adam perks up. "I can work with that. I can accidentally let it slip that you left LA in a rush and are low on cash, which no doubt Dom will use. I can even play up the fact that Steve is super worried about you. It will work as Dom thinks there's something going on between you two. Asked me if Buck was a teacher's pet." Adam's eye twitches. "In a nasty way."

Voight does a double take on that while Buck stares up at the gray sky, a little red in the cheeks. Steve looks unaffected. Buck still can't believe he made that comment. Being in the service, comments like that are normal—Sailors being gay a common jest along the branches- , and being around Steve, he forgets to watch himself at times. "Did he?"

"Is there something I should know?" Voight inquires. "Did the meaning of brothers changed?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "Evan and I are comfortable in our sexuality"- He ignores Buck's coughing- "and are comfortable teasing each other." He nails Voight once more with his eyes. "We are brothers. Family. It's what you do."

For a second, it looks like the Chicago Cop wants to push it, but his shoulder relaxes, and he states, "I guess it is settled then." Voight glances at Adam, motioning to him. "Adam can start—"

"Again, just to make sure we are clear here," Steve starts, cutting Voight off. "I'm not leaving until this thing is settle and I will be involved whether you like it or not." He explains. "I don't think I can trust someone like you with someone like Buck."

Buck doesn't know if he should take that as an insult, but he can admit that he is a people pleaser. A major people pleaser. He lost count has many times he had given up in the past in order to make someone else happy. Heck, he stayed at the 118 longer than he should've, believing that he could've changed their minds by doing whatever they wanted. It was a fool's goal.

Voight stares, analyzing the twitches in Steve's face—his firm jaw. "I normally would disagree, but you're a cop, and something tells me you won't take 'no' for an answer."

Steve curls his upper lip. "It wouldn't be pretty for anyone."

Nodding, Voight adds—sounding amazed-, "It appears like the Kid has an army behind him, ready to pick up pitchforks."

A shiver runs down Buck's back when he hears the word 'kid' come out of Voight's mouth. It feels off putting and wrong. He puts on a smile and replies, "Yes, I do." And honestly, that feels amazing.

Adam turns toward the SUV, staring at Voight from the corner of his eyes. "I'll reach out to Dom and 'accidently' drop the info that Buck is struggling both mentally and financially. He will eat up that up." He pauses. "I'll let you know what he says." With that, Adam heads back to the SUV. Voight lingers for a bit, studying both Steve and Buck for a moment before he nods and follows Adam.

Steve watches them get into the SUV and peel off, gravel flying. Voight and Steve's eyes meet for a second before the vehicle disappears around a bend, trees blocking it from view. Clearly, they will not be friends. "You okay, kid?"

"Yea." That isn't a lie. He isn't alone.

"Good. Now, why don't you show me Chicago?"

"Do I get to drive?" Buck whines with a smile.

Steve grins and shakes his head as he turns back to the jeep. "No."

*O*O*

Once again, Kelly finds himself at Molly's with a bottle of beer—almost empty- in front of him, drinking with the rest of the house. "You know, Herrmann," he starts with a grin. "We should've stopped you from buying a bar. It was really stupid. How much of our money have you taken so far?" He holds up his fingers as if to count. "Taking all of my money I know."

Herrmann snorts as he waves to Stella. "I'm pretty sure if it wasn't me, you would still be giving away your money at some bar. At least with me, it is going to a good place."

"So, if 51 gives you all of our business, 51 deserves a discount for that business," Kelly tries to argue. No, he isn't drunk, but he needs something to keep his mind off of Buck and that ass of his. More importantly, he needs to get the image of Steve complimenting Buck's ass out of his head.

"Keep trying, Severide," Herrmann chuckles as he turns away and steps away toward the cash register.

"Or don't," Stella snickers. "You have a better chance of winning a million dollars than a free beer from Herrmann, but it will be fun to watch." She reaches down to the beer cooler and pulls out a fresh beer. In one quick and clean motion, she twists open the bottle and sets it down on the bar top in front of Kelly. "How about you just pay for this one?" She doesn't wait for Kelly to respond and just takes a few bucks from the stack of cash he has next to him.

Kelly snorts. "Not lying there. Maybe, I should start playing lottery then."

Stella scans the bar fully, taking count of everyone in the bar, as a heavy thought passes across her eyes. "So…" she starts slowly, "You and Buck set that date yet?"

Kelly locks eyes with her. "You make it sound like we're picking a wedding date." His cheeks getting rosy at the thought of marrying Buck. Buck would look amazing in a suit. The thought startles Kelly as marriage is the last thing on his mind. Ask any woman that Kelly has ever slept with, and they will answer the same: he is not the marrying type, which he agrees with. However, that word feels weird on his tongue when he thinks about Buck. He knows it's way too soon to even think the word, but man, it hits differently.

With a smile that could scare anyone, Stella grins, "I just want to see the moment after."

Kelly's eyes narrow. "Moment after what?"

Stella's head swings side to side, her smile getting a bit loopy. "Okay. Not the moment after. Definitely not the moment directly after, but I need to see you the next day. Gotta witness the loopy Kelly afterword."

"Loopy?" Kelly's right eye brow is in his hairline. "What?"

"Same here," comes Casey's voice as he magically pops up next to Kelly, startling the man. Stella, without asking, hands Casey a beer as he slides a ten across the bar.

Kelly's eyes frantically zip back and forth between his two good friends multiple times before he exclaims, "Again, what?!"

With a devilish grin taking up half his face, Casey shares a knowing look with Stella as he takes a big slip of beer. Stella chuckles and says, "Nothing." Kelly glares. "Okay. Relax. We're just messing with you. You're fun to poke." To prove her point, she reaches over the bar top and pokes Kelly in the arm, causing him to grumble. "See? In all honesty, we are just happy you and Buck are happy."

Nodding, Kelly, who leans back in his chair, ponders that thought for a second. He wants Buck to be happy too. "Well, with Buck's friend in town, I am not sure when we'll have this date. Had to pick a day when Buck is busy with Steve." He doesn't know what to make of Steve, a man who apparently thinks it's okay to check out his own friend's asses. What kind of friend does that? Okay, don't go there. Kelly did not check out Casey's ass… Yes, he checked out a few men's asses to test his sexuality, but he didn't just do it randomly. He didn't—doesn't look in Casey's direction at all.

"Is that jealousy I sense?" Stella teases, studying him from the corner of his eyes.

Kelly huffs. "…No." Him jealous? Yea, no. He does not get jealous...Yes you do.

"Listen," Casey firmly states, "You have nothing to worry about between those two. Nothing. Even if they aren't connected by blood, they are brothers. A brotherhood forged in combat, which can't be broken. Much like us."

"I know." Kelly replies. He is annoyed at himself for even allowing that thought to enter his mind. It isn't fair to Buck.

Stella pauses, both confused and concerned. "Combat? Not that, that should surprise me: look at their arms." Exhaling, she—cheeks red- looks off. "Not that I don't think they can't. It's just that that stuff messes people up. They say the average servicemen don't actually see combat and I was hoping that would've been Buck's case. He deserves happiness."

No one can deny that, especially after everything Buck has seen. "Steve and Buck were in Seals together," Kelly answers, as he brings his beer to his lips. If that tattoo is to judge, Buck has seen combat and has experience lost. Kelly's heart goes out to anyone who has lost someone. Shay and Andy flashes before his eyes.

"So, you know." Casey says as he gives Kelly a look that screams 'Okay, see?! Are you done being stupid yet?'. "They have probably seen some sh*t." Kelly nods, gloomily.

The three of them are silent for a moment as they truly ponder that thought. Buck and Steve aren't the first vet they have met, Jay Halstead coming to mind, but it hits different for them since Buck is one of their own. "You think they are coming to Molly tonight?" Stella asks.

"No. They will probably just stay home and roll around in bed together." Casey cruelly winks at Kelly who just sneers. "Just kidding." He admits, smiling as he softly bumps Kelly in the shoulder. "Kidding."

Kidding aside, that puts a steamy image in Kelly's head that he does not want to envision. He doesn't need to know who would win that battle in bed. "You know—"

Suddenly, Stella's glance flies to the door, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, I guess we know they aren't rolling around in bed together."

Kelly spins around in his chair and spots Steve and Buck at the door, each with sun kissed checks and smiles on their faces. As they chat by the door, the deep bond and the love between them are clear, even if Steve likes how Buck's ass looks. Steve claps his hand on Buck's shoulder and directs him to the bar top. Shaking his head in a fit of laughter, Buck glances up and locks eyes with Kelly. Buck's brilliant, warm smile grows, causing Kelly's stomach to do flips. No matter how many times Kelly stares into Buck's eyes, his heart leaps into his mouth every time. Oh, his brain squeaks. This is what Stella meant earlier. He is going to be so loopy that Kelly doesn't know if he will be able to stand after their date…

After making sure the door is closed, Steve and Buck—his eyes still on Kelly- make their way across the bar. "Hey," Kelly croaks, ignoring the hitch in his voice. "You two had fun?" He finally breaks eye contract with Buck and gives both Steve and Kelly a once over. For his own sanity, he needs to check. No clothes seem out of place.

Buck, his eyes sparkling—yes, Kelly says sparkling- shots Steve a look before shaking his head and saying, "Depends on how you look at it. Just showed him around Chicago and this man is a handful."

Kelly co*cks his head to the side and snorts. "Oh, really? You know enough about Chicago to do so?" he teases.

"Well…umm…Yea." Buck stutters.

With a Chester Cat smile, Steve claps a hand on Buck's right shoulder and goes, "Oh, but that is half the fun."

Buck is a bit sheepish. "We did get lost at a point, though."

Kelly studies the two Sailors, and once again, the brotherly bond between the two is screaming. It reminds him much of Matt and his friendship, though he has never fought with Matt over a bed. He definitely has not done that. You need to get over that, his voice of reason orders. "Good thing you have smart phones then."

"True." Buck replies, giving Kelly a warm smile—which goes directly to his heart. "Though it only helps if they are charged."

Stella leads over the bar top and says, "So, Steve, how long are you staying?"

"I don't know yet. It is still up in the air. I first have to make sure nothing happens to this dummy." Steve replies, earning a snort from Buck. Steve shoots Buck a look that screams 'shut up.'

Exhaling, Buck rolls his eyes. "I think it is the other way around. I got to make sure nothing happened to you."

Steve, frowning, brings his hand to his chest and jokes, "Ouch. That hurt. To make it up to me, you can buy me a beer."

"Why am I buying you the beer? You're one actively trying to steal my bed." Buck protests, his eyes large and his hands shaking in the hand. Steve chuckles, his smile taking up his entire face. "It is a good thing you are cute, McGarrett."

"We can always share the bed."

The word 'cute' slaps Kelly in the face, and he almost chokes on his beer. By almost, he totally does choke on his beer. The world goes dark for him until he feels a large hand slapping his back. Pure shock of it slams the cough right out of him. "Thanks," he coughs, as he takes a few strained breaths. He goes to shoot Casey a nonverbal 'thank you', but Casey hasn't moved from his spot, which… means it isn't his hand on his back. Kelly sits right up, and whipping his head around, he sees Steve standing close to his right side, and he, still struggling to control his breathing, follows Steve's hand to his back. His brain fuzzes for a moment before he snaps himself back to reality: Steve is slapping his back. "Thanks," he forces himself to say.

Again, with a large smile and a nonthreatening expression, Steve replies, "You're welcome."

Buck tilts his head to the side, his eyes still drilling into Kelly's face. At first, it looks like Buck is worried about Kelly, but it all comes crushing down when he goes, "You know… I think even babies have mastered this skill. Do you need a retraining?"

Kelly straightens up, and it takes a second to comprehend what Buck is doing. He is messing with him. This isn't the first time Buck has teased him, but it always comes as a surprise. A welcome surprise. "Are you up offering some tutoring? If so, I will sign right up for it," he asks, focusing only on Buck. He does intend for it to come out flirty, but sh*t, it is dripping. Even he is shocked by how thick it is with sexual desire.

Straightening up, Buck, beat red, reaches a hand behind his head, leans on to his right foot, and scratches. "I…ah…if…"

"Nope." Casey coughs loudly and awkwardly. "Keep it PG, you two," he orders.

"Or not, I am up for a show." Stella throws out.

Buck's hands drop to his side, his eyes slightly panicked bouncing between Kelly, Steve, Stella, and Casey, and he's quiet for a few seconds, deep in thought, before he announces loudly, "I'll be right back. Gotta use the restroom." He turns tail and bolts before anyone can say anything.

Steve, his expression changing, looks over his shoulder and follows Buck with his eyes. Once Buck is far enough away, Steve steps into the open space directly next to Kelly. Kelly glances at him for a second before he looks away, his eyes drilling into the dark wood of the bar. "So, you really have no idea when you are leaving?" he asks, skeptical.

Casey puts a hand on Kelly's shoulder and squeezes. "Severide here isn't always the best with his words. What he means is—"

"I don't mean anything," Kelly cuts, quickly. "Just wondering as sleeping on couch for weeks can't be all that comfortable."

Steve grunts. "No, it isn't." He reaches for the beer that Stella places in front of him. "Thanks." He says, giving her a smile. "My goal is just to make sure Evan is okay, after everything he has been though. Once I confirm with my own two eyes that he is okay and not faking it, I'll be jumping on the first plane back to the beautiful state of Hawaii." After answering, Steve leans over to Kelly elbow on the bar and drills with his eyes into the side of Kelly's face.

The movement startles Kelly and he leans side wards in an attempt to put some space between them. However, Steve doesn't seem to get it and leans closer. "Yes?" Kelly states loudly

"So, what is your intentions with the Kid?" Steve asks, his voice suddenly cold. The smiley Steve from before is gone.

Kelly shoots a silent plead for help to Stella and Casey, but Stella, who takes a second to exam the situation, turns her attention onto a new customer waving at her, and Casey, who is supposed to be his ride and die, turns away and stares intently into his beer. Traitors. His mind hisses. "What?"

Steve narrows his eyes, as he takes a singular step back. "I don't have a lot of time, so I am getting to the point. What are your intentions with the Kid?"

"Intentions?" Kelly's brain is glitching.

"You asked him out but yet, you haven't taken him out. What is up with that?"

"I…um…" Kelly blinks as he tries to find the words. "Well…" There's no denying the uneasiness that settles in his stomach with Steve around, leaving him speechless. Kelly can't tell you why, besides his nonsensical jealousy, which isn't a valid reason to dislike someone.

"Well? Does a cat have your tongue?" Steve pokes, earning a chuck from Casey who is still pointedly looking away.

Kelly straightens up in his chair and shifts to put some space between them. He takes a deep breath, refusing to allow Steve to get the better of him. He is a grown man who can handle his sh*t; plus, he has his own muscles, thank you very much. He knows Buck is a fan. "My intentions with Buck are between me and him, but know that I have nothing but respect for him. I want nothing more than to make sure he is happy. He deserves it. He deserves so much."

Steve co*cks his head to the side and stares at Kelly. A few seconds pass as he studies the lieutenant. "Agreed."

"Agreed." Kelly automatically copies.

With the biggest—and creepiest- smile that Kelly has ever seen, Steve goes, "However, if you hurt that man, you will have to deal with me. And I have been told I am nuts." He glances off, looking a bit sheepish and guilty. "Very nuts. No sense of self preservation. A risky sense of fearlessness, and oh, I love my guns."

Steve doesn't say what he would do to Kelly if he does hurt Buck—which Kelly won't do-, but he assumes that is the point. Real threats don't need to be voiced, and from what he hears from the Firehouse—Ritter and Gallo not shutting up-, Steve is a cop with his own major crime task force. Plus, he is a former Navy Seal. Kelly has no doubt that Steve can hand him his ass without trying. Kelly meets Steve's eyes and says, "You don't have to worry. Regardless of what happens between Buck and I romantically, I will never intently hurt him. I am sure Casey would beat me too if I hurt him."

"Damn right," Casey agrees, loudly and cheerily, as he finally turns back.

While Kelly would rather Casey be protective of Buck over him, his eyes twitches at how loudly and quickly his best friend agrees to it. Traitor. "See." He says as Stella comes sauntering back over. "Buck is in good hand."

Stella, a smile beaming, asks, "What did I miss?"

Casey, the horrendous traitor, answers, while grinning, "OH, Steve here is giving Kelly the shovel talk."

"Oh, that sucks. I am sorry that I missed it."

Steve, mood changing once more, perks up and steps back from Kelly toward Stella, clearly pleased with her approval. "I can give it again. It's fun."

Kelly, side eyeing Steve, waves him off. "It's okay. I got it."

"Okay, then. Go pick a date for yours and the kid's date. Or else, I'll take him out instead," Steve threatens, still a smile on his face. "Trust me, he looks really hot in a suit, and I wouldn't mind that." With that, Steve spins and scans the bar, looking for Buck who has been gone awhile. "Oh, there he is," he speaks, spotting Buck at the other end of the bar with Gallo and Ritter. There is no hearing what they are chatting above, even on a slow night in the bar, but all three are grinning. "Well, talk to you later." He tilts his beer toward the trio, though his eyes are on Kelly. "Just treat him right." His voice is calm, but the threat is clear and present.

Watching Steve make his way toward Buck, Kelly sits there stunned, unsure of what to make of their conversion. He is used to threats from family members, but Steve is on another level. Steve clearly cares for Buck, wanting him the best for him; yet he is poking at Kelly. He is trying to trigger you, his mind reasons. "That…um… was intense."

Casey and Stella share a look and just laugh. "Good luck."

*O*O*

I think we all need these in our lives. Steve isn't wrong.

Chapter 22: Pain and Pleasure

Chapter Text

Chapter 22:

Pain and Pleasure

A long time Ago

In a specific—unnamed- city in the continental United States, there's a small, quiet neighborhood, known to be quite boring and dull. So boring in fact that the designers used the same floor model, and each house looks the same, only the front flowers differencing between each unit. While it is just a coincidence, even the families in each house look exactly the same, right down to their cars. It is a very cookie cutter type of neighborhood, where everyone gets 'along,' and no one fights. Problems are nonexistence. NO PROBLEMS AT ALL.

Even with the sun shining and the birds singing, it's something that the older teenagers complain about. They want some action and a hot juicy story where neighbor A is cheating with neighbor B, but no, the most exciting thing to happen in this suburb are random baseballs flying into a neighbor's yard and the neighbor grumpily returning it, a soccer ball getting run over by a car going a tad too fast, or children jumping up and down for a snow day knowing they can sleep in and attack people with snowballs. The neighbors are all normal and nice, friendly with everyone, and neighborhood block parties are common. It is perfect.

And yet, it isn't perfect. Nothing is perfect. Sure, to the naked eyes the neighborhood looks perfect, but it isn't. Every one of these families is hiding something, and in one of these picture-perfect houses with colorful flowers, the family is the exact opposite of perfect, the family of four hiding a story. A painful story that they keep hidden deep within themselves, locked by several impenetrable doors. It is something they will take to their graves, unwilling to let their pain see the light of day. Unwilling to let anyone see them as less than perfect. There would be no coming back if they open those doors and let it all out. However, there will be some heavy consequences for hiding this pain.

In fact, the young boy, the youngest member of the family, in that house is already suffering those consequences now as he sits alone in the corner of the dusty, unfinished basem*nt. He has been down here for hours, hiding from his mother and his father… well mostly his mother. He can't tell you what he has done to set off his mother this time as she always explodes, throwing painful insults and colorful curses at him. Granted, it doesn't take much nowadays. The boy only has to glance in his mother's direction to piss her off, and there is no calming her once she gets into one of her moods. His father, while he doesn't scream, simply watches, never saying a single word in the boy's defense. The depressed boy doesn't know what is worse. Either way, the boy knows he does not have his father's loves.

Alone in the basem*nt, it is days like this that the boy wonders why he was even born as it's clear that his parents do not want him. His mother looks at him with hallow eyes and sneers grimly as if she is seeing a ghost…or a demon more like it. It pains him to his very soul when she glares at him with such hate. It's a punch to the gut when he sees other kids with loving parents. Why can't his parents love him? Why do they hate him? Why did he have to be born into this family? How did his friends get loving parents when he did not? Why did God curse him with these people? Why couldn't he have parents who made him breakfast in the morning? Parents who helped him with homework every night? Parents who showed up to his games? Parents who actually gave a damn?

The boy lets out a wet, shaky sob as he curls deeper into himself, hiding his head in his knees; he tries to make himself smaller, both physically and mentally. He doesn't want to be anywhere right now, and he means that. He just sits there in the darkness for hours or what seems like hours. He wants to disappear into nothingness and leave this pain behind. He doesn't want to feel this anymore, but he doesn't, the heavy footsteps of his mother snapping hm back to his harsh reality. She still sounds like a raging bull, her anger dripping through the ceiling, as she thumps around like an ungraceful giant. Her anger is intoxicating, and the boy feels sick. His pounding heart is ready to jump out of his chest in fear, scared of what she was going to do. He straight ups panics thinking about it. Is she going to hurt him?

Attempting to breathe out his fear and anxiety, he sits there for a few more seconds pondering that sad, heartbreaking thought before he slowly unfolds himself to his full length. His outstretched legs are stiff as the blood rushes back through them, his toes tingling. He rolls his head in a full circle a few times, working out some fat knots from being motionless for a few hours. After his neck, he moves onto his shoulders and rolls them until he hears no cracks. "Okay," he mutters to himself as he finally gets to his feet. He doesn't move, his feet refusing to, and all he can do is to take a deep breath, which he does several times. While his legs are frozen, this stiffness is more mentally than physically.

The deal with moving is that moving means he has to deal with his reality, and he hates his reality, this f*cked up reality. He hates this life. He hates parents. He hates this house. He hates this town. He hates this 'perfect' neighborhood. He hates the perfect families next door. He hates their smiling faces and their cute laughs. He hates how they… The boy lets out a pained angry huff. Okay, he—after taking a deep breath- doesn't hate the families next door. Rather, he is jealous of their happiness. He is jealous that the kids have loving parents who don't scream until their voices are gone. He is jealous that they share dinner together every night. Lucky, he sobs. He hates it when his mind does this: daydreaming about the neighbors. It always makes him feel worse.

Rocking back and forth on his feet, the boy let out a wet, pained huff when his mother's anger vibrates through the walls like a 7.1 earthquake. This time she directed this rage at his dad for some reason, and though the boy doesn't know why, he can guess. The boy has been keeping a list of things to avoid when in a mile radius of his mother, and no doubt his father's sin is on there. And with her favorite pouching bag there hiding, she takes it on her husband. Silly Dad. Granted with the list's length, it's nearly impossible to escape the wrath of his mother on certain days, and today is one of those days. The boy can't tell why today is worse, but his mother is an unusual beast today, which is saying something as she is always nasty.

The boy, as slowly and quietly as he can, makes his way up the old, creaky steps, flinching with each screech of wood. His right eye winces harshly when a random step croaks particularly deafeningly. He, his eyes on the basem*nt door, freezes for a second, waiting for his mother's piecing scream. His weak, fearful heart races and his lungs excruciatingly strain for a breath of air that they refuse to take, as he waits for any sign of his mother. Hearing only silence (which is worrisome in its own way), the boy puffs out his chest and continues his slow climb up the steps. There is an intense fear hanging around, expecting the worse, but he, foolishly, is feeling better with each step as he hears nothing. When he reaches the door, he reaches out ever so slowly for the doorknob, which is ice cold in his hand, and freezes.

He takes a deep breath and strains his ears, attempting to hear any sign of his cruel mother, and when he doesn't hear her, he pushes the door open slowly and pops his head out and around the wooden door. His eyes in fine points, he scans the kitchen and the surrounding area looking for any signs of his life before he sets his eyes on the backdoor, his escape to freedom. Silently, he calculates the steps from behind the door and to the door, and feeling comfortable with the number, he jumps out and takes a single large step. However, it isn't that easy. It is never that easy for the boy. Just as hope fills him, it comes crashing down around him. Just when he takes another large step, his mother's screeching voice rings out.

"BOY!" she hisses as she steps into the kitchen. "Where were you hiding?"

The way she barks 'boy' sends shivers down his back, and his shoulders go stiff as he stares at the backdoor. Tears start to form in his blue eyes, but he does his best to shove them back down. Don't show weakness. Don't show weakness. Showing emotions will make this situation worse. His mother can smell fear. Yea, but me breathing does that too. He thinks sorrowfully, as the cracks in his heart deepen. Normally, the boy would drop his head and nod at whatever his mother says, having no will to fight, but a wave of impulsive crushing anger crashes over him and swallows him whole. "Out. Where do you think I am going? I am not staying here." he snaps as he spins around to face his mother. On the inside, he is shaking, but on the outside, he puts on his strongest glare and gives his mother everything he has.

His mother's eye twitches, and the corner of her lips turns up ever so slightly. "Watch that mouth, Boy." She demands.

"Or what?" The boy hisses back, his eyes glancing over his mother's shoulder to his stoic father who is silent as always. He finds himself viciously cursing his father in his head, angry at his lack of action. Suddenly, the sound of glass violently shattering echoes across the kitchen, snapping the boy's pained stare back to his mother. His heart in his ear, it takes a few long minutes for the boy to comprehend what his mother has just done. The violence she has just shown. She had reached out, grabbed the nearest thing, a glass vase, and slammed it to the ground. The shattered pieces had flown everywhere.

The mother takes a threatening step forward, her expression morphing into something maliciously unrecognizable. "You better watch that tone with me, Boy."

The father takes a large step forward, his hands in the air in a sign of surrender. "Easy, Honey. He didn't mean anything."

"That's a lie! I totally meant it." The Boy sharply and loudly replies. "I am escaping from you."

"An escape from me?" she gasps as she glares at him with so much hatred that the boy does a double take and steps back. "You know what?! I wished I could dump you somewhere and just leave you there. You were a failure. A total failure." His mother sneers.

No, this isn't the first time the boy has heard his mother say those nasty words and it won't be the last, but they hurt all the same. He knows his mother hates him, but it is another thing to hear it. "Well… I guess being a failure runs in the family, because I got it from you-" The pain is instance, stunning the child, as the mother swiftly brings her opened hand down onto his cheek, and the world just spins. However, before he can respond or comprehend what is happening, his mother raises her hand again and brings it back down.

*O*O*

Chicago

His eyes closed, Buck pops straight up in bed, a thin layer of sweat lining every inch of his body. A large, overpowering tremor vibrates through his entire body, locking his limbs into place, and he just sits there for a second, his thoughts in a jumbo mess. God, he hates that nightmare, a painful reminder of his past. No matter how much time has passed, it has a tight hold over him, and it is a solid minute before Buck's brain kicks itself back into reality, the reality that he is in his bed and not in some hell hole. "Breathe, 1…2….3," he tells himself, repeating it a few times. When he feels settled, he lets out a weary huff and slowly opens his eyes to greet the eyes. He takes another deep breath and-

"You okay?"

Buck stiffens for a second, as his mind unvoluntary lists every possible threat while his hand reaches for whatever is handy, before he remembers he isn't alone in the apartment. Steve Don't—tell—me—what—to—DO McGarrett has shown up randomly at his firehouse and has forced his way into his home, deciding to stay long term. Buck snorts thinking about. Okay, okay. It is not forced. He would've offered up his home to his former Commander in a heartbeat. That is what you do for your family.

"Kid?" Steve pokes, co*cking his head to the side.

"Yea," Buck mutters. "Just a bad dream."

Steve swallows, his eyes locked in on Buck. "You want to talk about it?"

Buck doesn't answer right away as he breathes through that question. Should Buck talk about it? Yes. It will do him some good to finally get it out, but does Buck want to talk about it? No. Will he talk about it? No. f*ck no. Instead, he will just stuff that sh*t in a box and then hide it behind several locked doors, which is the Buckley Way. "No," he states firmly as he kicked off the sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. "No, I am good."

If Steve is surprised or shocked by Buck's stiff tone, he doesn't show it. "Are you sure?"

"Yup." He pops out the 'p'.

Steve stares at Buck, studying the man for a few seconds as if he is trying to determine how hard to push. "I made food. You want some?" he asks instead, not pushing.

Glad for the change of subject, Buck narrows his eyes, silently going over what he has in his refrigerator. While he tries to always eat healthy, there are times that he cannot, and it hasn't been easy due to his limited funds. He hasn't been able to stock up on the healthy options. "Did you go out to get food?" he asks, giving Steve a quick once over. The man is wearing his running shoes, a loose pair of dark jersey pants with a white Navy logo and a tight-fitting blue shirt with 'Navy' across his chest. As he gapes at the man, a few thoughts and/or questions pop up. 1) Did Steve go running alone in this neighborhood? Hopefully, he avoided Dom. 2) Did he really walk into a store all sweaty and jog all the way back carrying the food? 3) Does Steve own anything without the Navy logo? If not, did he buy out the entire store? 4) Why is Steve's shirt so tight? Does he own loose shirts?

"Yes. You have nothing." Steve deadpans. "I seriously don't know how you are alive."

With his downstairs neighbor, Isabel Jackson, giving him food, it is impossible for them to starve. "I say that about you every day. How are you alive?" Buck shoots back.

Steve dramatically rolls his eyes. "You want food or what?" he snaps back, playfully. "I can just eat it all myself."

"No! I want it, Sir," Buck teases, giving him a mock salute. Steve shakes his head and exits the room, leaving Buck alone to his thoughts for a moment. For a second, his thoughts flashes back to that nightmare, a nightmare that he hasn't had in a while, but with everything happening, his mind and thoughts have been stuck playing his 'greatest' hits, which he can do without. Buck shakes his head to clear his mind and jumps out of bed, forcing his thoughts to Steve's cooking. That does bring a grin to his face as Steve isn't bad in the kitchen. Maybe not Bobby level, but he can give the Captain a run for his money.

*O*O*

"So, when is the date?"

Buck freezes in mid motion, his hands deep in the dirty, soapy water. The sponge slips out of his grip, disappearing beneath the water. "What?" he articulates with his entire mouth, as his eyes are glued to the dirty pan.

"Your date with that smexy Lieutenant." Steve replies, calmly but with a devilish grin.

Buck suddenly loses the air in his chest, and an intense heat bubbles up into his cheeks. Yes, the famous date, and while Buck still doubts the existence of the future date, he can never forget the kiss, weak in the leg and scorching kiss. Even now, it makes him light headed. That kiss has ruined him, and if he cannot experience that kiss again, he will be devastated. He will be forever missing something. "What about it?" he asks slowly, as he searches for the sponge. "Nothing to talk about." He states forcefully. Once he finds it, he slowly starts to wipe the plate before he puts his full strength into scrubbing a precise spot.

"Soooo… when is it?" Steve asks, as he leans directly behind Buck, his eyes drilling into the back of the dirty blonde's head.

Buck's face goes completely blank, and he is entirely grateful that Steve can't see his loopy expression. "I…ahh…Umm…" Steve snorts, which Buck takes personally. It snaps him back. "Hey! That is an easy fix."

"Is it?"

Letting the plate slip from his hands and disappear beneath the waters, Buck whips around. "Yes." He answers, shakily, as his blue eyes drill into Steve, who is smug as ever.

"Yes?" Steve repeats with a grin, while giving Buck a knowing look.

A part of Buck is waiting for Kelly to realize that he isn't into guys and that this is all a mistake, which would crush Buck completely, but again, it is understandable. Stop, he tells himself. He can't allow that thought to fester, not that Steve would let him simmer in his misery. "Yes." He answers for the second time.

"So why is there no set date?"

Buck scrunches up his face as he quickly attempts to come up with a valid reason. Because…Because…because… His tongue is wrapped in knots. "I…um…waiting on-"

"Waiting on what?" Steve narrows his eyes at Buck, his lips turning up ever so slightly. "Waiting on you not being a chicken?" he teases, his devilish grin taking up his entire face.

There're a few things that can get Buck's blood pumping, and calling a him chicken is one of the quickest ways to drive Buck crazy. He is not a chicken. He is the opposite of a chicken. Someone who leaves home at 18 and joins the Navy is not a Chicken. Someone who runs into a burning building is not a chicken. So, no. He is not a f*cken chicken. I don't know about that, his brain protests, loudly. Steve isn't wrong. You did run away from home because you couldn't handle the consequences of our own actions. "I am not a chicken." He protests, strongly. His blood is pumping, this heart thumping.

"Prove it."

Buck's right eye twitches. He can never turn down a challenge. "How do you want me prove it?"

"Why don't you set a date for this date?"

"What?" Buck stares at Steve, wide eyed and jaw hanging. His fight disappears.

Steve, snorting, rolls his eyes. "Call him and set a date… Or…" He draws out every letter. "You're a chicken."

A large, thick knot forms in Buck's throat, him already playing the would-be conversation in his head. There's no doubt that it will turn out exactly how he imagines it would. His cheeks redden in embarrassment, and his chest is tight and icy. He knows himself well enough to know he would be looking like a big fool, stammering the entire conversation, and that is not an attractive look. Kelly will think him an idiot. "He's the one who asked me out. It is on him to pick a date."

Steve's eyes narrow into fine points, and he stares at Buck for a moment before he gives him a dramatic eye roll. A second later, he pushes off the counter top and gives his best 'scared chicken' impression. Not kidding. He gives it his all. If Buck wasn't all red in the face and stiff as a board, he would be laughing at how goofy Steve is. The former Seal Commander has folded his arms into little wings and is flapping his arms like a chicken, and he is even bawking like a chicken. The now Cop flocks around the kitchen, getting louder and louder with each pass around buck. There is a smile on his face as if this isn't the stupidest thing Buck has ever seen.

"Fine!" Buck squeals as Steve pretends to peck and bawks directly into his ear. Frustrated, he bats at Steve in a failed attempt to get him away from his ear. "Fine! Just stop it. I'll text him." he announces, knowing he can't hold a conversation with Kelly when Steve is staring at him like that. Keeping his eyes locked on Steve, he reaches into his pocket and starts to dig around for his phone. It takes a several attempts for him to wrap his sweaty fingers around the smooth phone, the phone slipping from his grasp. Once he is confident that his phone is secured in his grip, he, with a cheeky smile, waves it at Steve before unlocking it and bringing up his text messages. This is where his co*ckiness and masks slips, and he freezes as he first attempts to form his text to Kelly in his head. His chest goes light as he can't look like an idiot in front of Kelly.

"You okay over there, Buckley?" Steve probes softly, his arms dropping to his side as he resettles against the kitchen counter. "Did you forget how to type?"

"Shut up." Buck's eye twitches violently, and he gives Steve the death glare before his eyes drop down to his lit-up phone. Steve, very dramatically, runs a finger across his lips as if he is zipping it shut. With a deep breath, Buck forces himself to type, knowing what will happen if he thinks for too long. However, no matter what he tells himself, it does take several attempts since as soon as he writes something, he deletes it immediately. Each time he does this, he can feel Steve's unnerving stare on him, tearing him apart. "Stop looking at me like that!" Buck takes a deep breath and tries a few more times. "Buy me dinner first." He mutters,

"Already did," Steve counters.

Huffing, Buck replies, "Smart ass," before he turns his attention back on the message. On the last attempt, he closes his eyes and punches the send button before he can over think it or before Steve can pop fun at him again. There's a mixture of emotions swirling through him as he reads over the message after the fact.

Buck: Hey, Kelly. We never set a date for our date. We should fix that.

"There. happy?" Buck asks as he waves phone, the screen lit, at Steve.

Steve squints his eyes at the phone. "I don't see a date."

What? "You know-" Buck starts before his phone beeps. His chest gets tight. "One second." He grunts as he looks down at the new message.

Kelly: No, we didn't. We need to fix that immediately.

The temperature in the room has shot up, and his legs are shaky. Buck takes a very deep breath, ignoring the pointed grin that Steve wears. Several possible days to come to mind, but only one jumps forward, only one feeling right. Although, the day does give him pause, and it scares him to throw out this date, but if he waits, he knows his nerves will get the better of him, which irritates him. He is a grown ass man, and this is just a date. It isn't like he is picking up a gun and going into battle.

His hands are shaking as he types, which shows in his spelling.

Buck: Hhow abuot tonight?

Kelly's response is instant.

Kelly: I will pick you up at six.

Buck's brain freezes, not expecting that response. While this response screams Kelly Severide, the lack of a yes and a discussion of a time steals his breath away. There is no hesitation in this man, which makes Buck's knees weak… well weaker. Puffing out his cheeks, he replies, his nerves high.

Buck: Yey. That wrks.

Kelly: Cant wait. Will see you soon. ?

For some ungodly reason, Buck can't stop smiling, his cheeks hurting from the strain. He can't see his own face, but there is no doubt that he looks like a damn fool, which Steve points out. "See. Look at that smile. You look so adorable."

Buck's grins drop and he shoots Steve a glare. While it is impossible for Steve to ruin his mood, he doesn't want to risk it. "Shut up."

"Are you two? Is that the only thing you can say?"

Huffing, Buck replies with, "Then hush!"

"Make me."

Steve's response slams through Buck's heated glare, and he breaks down laughing. Full on laughing. He's bent over, his chest hurting in the fit, and he can't stop. It isn't until a sharp pain stabs him in the side that Buck snaps out of it. Though, it takes a moment for him to collect himself, his lungs straining for air. From the lack of air, the room spins topsy turvy, and he viciously wobbles on his feet for a minute. A hand on his hip, he puffs out deeply and breaths through the pain. It takes a few seconds, but he gains full control of his body, though his heart is thumping. "We sound like children," he breathlessly says.

"Hmm. Are you sure you aren't just talking about yourself?"

Without saying a word, Buck shakes his head and returns to the soapy, kitchen sink. He ignores the playful snicker from his Seal Brother and dives back into washing the dishes... well, that is until a traitorous thought pops up in his head. Kelly, the sexy bastard, could wear a bag and still be gorgeous, but he's going to have to put some work into being sexy, and he is going to have to find the perfect outfit. "sh*t." He curses. He isn't sure if that outfit currently exists in his closet.

Steve straights up and his expression hardens just a bit, sensing the mood change in Buck. "Is something wrong?"

Buck turns around, looking like a deer in headlights. "I need an outfit."

Rolling his eyes, Steve chuckles. "That's it? Geez. Here I thought we were going to war."

As if they are, Buck shoots Steve a wild, scared look before he dashes to his room. "sh*t." Steve follows behind slowly, just shaking his head in disbelief as Bucks sings "sh*t. sh*t."

*O*O*

Steve, arms across his chest, sits on the old, paint-chipped window frame as he watches Buck wildly go through his closet searching for an outfit, though there are more clothes on the bed than in the closet at this point. Steve finds it quite comical to watch Buck pace back and forth between his closet and his bed, picking up and putting down a different set of clothes each time. "You know…" he starts slowly and carefully. He watches the twitch in Buck's back. "I don't know this Kelly guy well, but I say you skip the going out part and just stay in. That way you can do the naked thing."

Buck whips around, his eyes saucers. "What?"

"Well…." Steve draws out, a grin on his face. "Then you won't have to worry about what you're wearing."

"I…um…what…" If an expression ever perfectly reflected the blue screen of death stare, it is Buck's expression. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is on the ground. "That….ah… wou…." At that, the man just dies… Straight up dies. Okay, not dead, but Buck is as stiff as a board.

A large, fat giggle explodes from Steve's belly, and it takes him a second to settle himself. "Kid." He speaks softly and breathy. He pushes himself off the window frame and crosses to the Buck shaped statue in the center of the room. Steve shakes his head and lets out a deep huff before he pokes the younger man in the forehead with his index finger. "Breathe. Kid. Breathe." He gives Buck another once over. "There you go. Breathe."

It takes a few attempts before Buck's breathing evens out. After letting out a deep puff of air, he goes, "Don't put that image in my head." His cheeks are rosy, and his eyes are glossy.

Steve's expression goes soft, and he drops his teasing. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

Buck swallows thickly, memories flashing before his eyes. "I do." These words are heavy on his chest. "I really do."

"Okay." Steve nods with a smile, as he takes a step back. "I have no doubt that Kelly feels the same, which means there is no reason to stress or over think this. I originally joked about being naked to be an asshole, but from what I can tell, he won't care what you wear. So, for the first date, keep it simple and wear something you are comfortable in. You don't need to break any records or set a standard. Just have fun."

A second of silence passes as Buck reflects on Steve's statement, and though his stomach disagrees, Steve has a point. It is clear from recent events that they both like each other. They have already spent one-on-one time together. They laughed together. They fought fires together. While they don't know every detail about each other, they know each other. They didn't need to impress the other. Besides, while they don't consider it a date, they have a 'date' together. They did all the date things, which included staring at the other while the other wasn't looking. There was even a kiss even if Buck ran away like a… chicken. "I suppose you have a point."

Steve's eye twitches ever so softly. "You suppose?" he repeats with just a pinch of annoyance.

Buck smiles, a soft genuine smile. "Okay. You have a point. I don't need a three-piece suit."

"Not that you don't look in a three-piece suit."

Buck snorts. "I don't think anyone looks bad in a three-piece suit." He pauses for a second to think about it. "Nope. Can't think of a single person." Steve just laughs. "And if you do look bad," Buck continues, "It's because you, the wearer, doesn't have a good tailor."

"But what if they can't find one?"

"I will find them one," Buck says, puffing out his chest as if he is responding to a challenge. "Any how? What should I wear?"

Steve rolls his eyes and tosses some random ideas at Buck. "Just wear these. We have talked enough about clothes"

*O*O*

Kelly can't stop smiling as he darkens his phone, and if he was anyone else (Looking at you, Matt Casey), he would be skipping… Okay, he may still skip. He would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about how long it took for them to set an actual date. He kept asking himself if it was a bad sign. So to have a date, a date for tonight, is extremely exciting for Kelly, and he may jump right out of his pants from his excitement.

"What has you smiling like a damn fool?"

Turning slightly, Kelly glances over his shoulder toward the direction of the voice. "Just got a hot date tonight." He gives Casey the cheesiest smile that he can muster.

"You finally set a date with Buckley?" Casey asks, as he leans against the doorframe of Kelly's bedroom.

Kelly's smile changes ever so delicately as he thinks about Buck. Evan's smile shines even in his memory. There is no doubt that he is smitten by the former Floater with a heart of gold and rosy cheeks. "He did actually."

"Oh, good for him." Casey chuckles. "Do you need help to look pretty tonight? Or are you good?"

Rolling his eyes, he turns from his best friend and says, "No, I'm good. I know exactly what I'm going to wear." He can picture what he's going to wear perfectly. Besides, he is not worried as he knows he will look good in anything. He's more worried about what Buck is wearing as he isn't positive that he can control himself. God, that man has a beautiful ass.

"co*cky Asshole."

Kelly snorts. "Never denied that. I freely admit that." Casey snorts. "Anyhow, let me get pretty."

"Are you already pretty?"

"Prettier!" Kelly grins. It takes him more time than he expects to pick out an outfit, and it isn't due to him being indecisive. More so, he has no idea what he and Buck will be doing on this date. He doubts with such a late notice that this would be a fancy dinner date that requires a full suit, but other than that, it is a guessing game. Granted, Kelly has the perfect outfits for spontaneous dates. He is the king of spontaneous dates and looking hot. Kelly throws on a white Henley shirt with ¾ quarters sleeves- only buttoning two buttons-, a pair of gray moto jeans, and a pair of black boots. And just before heading out the door, he grabs a black leather jacket.

*O*O*

Kelly arrives at Buck's apartment with time to spare and sits there in his car for a moment. Mentally preparing himself, he scans the area, though he purposely ignores the drug deal going down at the corner. He's not a fan of the neighborhood, but it isn't his place to come in as a white knight. Not yet at least, his brain supplies. Not yet. Kelly takes a deep breath as he pushes that thought aside. Right now, he has a date with Buck, an actual date. A date where Kelly can hold Buck's hand. A date where Kelly can stare at Buck like a blushing teenager. A date where he can give Buck kisses. Yes, kisses. He can feel this excitement throughout his entire body.

Rubbing his hands together, Kelly takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out of his mouth. His chest still a bag of butterflies, he leaps out of his car and quickly makes his way up the steps. He sees a few curious stares pointed at him as he climbs the steps, and he waves at each of them. He gives each of them a sideways smile as well, focused on getting to Buck. He is on a mission. It only takes Kelly 5 minutes to climb the steps and make it to Buck's apartment door. Pausing at Buck's door for only a second, Kelly, while taking a deep breath, pulls at the edges of his jacket to straighten it out.

With a large smile, Kelly knocks on the door and hears Buck's voice almost immediately, a loud squeaking outburst. There is a bit of panic in the younger man's voice, as he squeals some nonsensical nonsense, which is followed by a hearty, hefty laugher. Steve, his mind supplies, as he immediately pushes back his irrational jealousy. Don't forget. You are the one going on a date with Buck. Kelly huffs.

A few large, smooth footsteps later, the door flies open to reveal a very cheery, bushy eye Steve McGarrett. This man is just glowing, his smile taking up his entire face. "Hey there," he grins harder. "Come in. The kid maybe stupid for a bit."

A second passes before Buck is heard deep from within the apartment. "Hey!" It is the perfect mixture of insulted and playfulness.

"Probably for the best," Kelly grins, his chest warm at Buck's voice, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him.

Steve tilts his head to the side to get a better view of the hallway, which leads to Buck's bedroom. When he doesn't see Buck, he covers his mouth ever so softly and whispers, "Whatever you do, tell Evan he looks gorgeous. I've been tortured enough today, and I won't go through it again. That kid had over ten outfit changes and I am not doing this again."

Kelly snorts as that is silly idea ever. "Buck looks good in everything." It is not a lie. Buck can be in a trash bag and Kelly will still think Evan is the most gorgeous man in the world.

"Good answer."

"Is there any other response when we are talking about someone we care about?"

"Well…."

Before Kelly can respond, Buck, his eyes narrowed, steps out from his bedroom, and stares them both down. "What is going on here?" he asks slowly. He gives them each a skeptical stare.

Kelly's words disappear on his tongue, his mouth going dry, and his heart pounds in his chest at the sight of Buck. Like he has stated before, Buck always looks amazing, even if he is covered in ash. "No-nothing," he croaks.

Buck goes bright pink as he faces Kelly's intense, heated stare. "Did I over dress?" he questions, his voice drops just a tad. Glancing down, he pulls at the bottom of his black and white plaid slim jacket, which he is wearing over a brown turtle neck sweater and Ebony dress pants.

Kelly heavily gulps. "No…NO! You look perfect." His voice cracks.

"Really? Because I wasn't sure-"

No one in this room is a virgin, but Buck is stiff as a board when Kelly crosses the room in three seconds flat and cups Buck's face in both hands. The younger man doesn't get a single word out—not that he can- as the older man presses his lips against his. At first, Buck is frozen, still shocked by Kelly's actions, which worries Kelly at first, but it doesn't take long for the ex-floater to respond, wrapping his arms around Kelly's waist and pulling him closer. He opens his mouth and invites Kelly in, the internal body heart quickly raising for both men. Kelly's grip on Buck's face tightens ever so softly as he begins to explore Buck's warm, wet mouth.

While now is not the best time, Kelly can't help but compare this kiss with every other kiss he has ever experienced. No, it has nothing to do with his kissing skills…not that Buck is a bad kisser. He isn't. Buck is an amazing kisser once he gets into it and not a shy fool. Buck's excitement is breath taking, so no, this has nothing to do with kissing skills. This has to do with who Kelly is kissing. He is kissing Buck, someone he greatly respects and admires. Someone with such a huge heart that Kelly drowns in it. Kelly isn't in love yet, but he could see himself loving this man. Heck, he is already half way there.

There is something amazing about having Buck in his arms, feeling the man under his fingertips. Buck's moan tastes-

"So," Steve states loudly with a pained groan. "Did you forget I was here?!"

Buck's eyes go wide as he attempts to jump out of Kelly's arms, but the lieutenant doesn't let go. Instead, Buck squeals and goes cherry red. "I…um…ah… Um…yep." He utters, completely flustered.

Kelly howls in laughter, as he stares at the bashful Buck in his arms. Normally, he doesn't like to see Buck embarrassed or uncomfortable, but knowing it is because of a make out session, he is very proud of himself. He loves seeing Buck red and he is quite curious of how red he can get Buck. How far will the red go down? Will he be red from head to toe as Kelly removes his clothes one piece at a time? He doesn't know but Kelly is interested in finding out. "How can we ever forget?" he teases, his eyes on Buck.

Steve melodramatically rolls his eyes before he lets out a heavy sigh. "Do you two need a babysitter? No, I do not volunteer for that, but I am sure we can hire someone somewhere. Might have to pay them double."

"Nope, we are good." Kelly grins.

Buck, still breathless, puffs out his cheeks as Kelly finally loosens his grip on him. He lets out a deep breath. "Yup, all good." He croaks as he straightens his coat.

"Are you sure?" Steve teases.

"Yes!" Buck yups a little too forcibly. He takes another breath, his expression changing as he mentally steadies himself. With some new found confidence, he reaches for Kelly's hand and grips it tight. He adds, "Let's go, Kel, before the Old Man does something stupid."

Steve narrows his eyes before saying, "Kelly, please take this fool off my hands."

Glancing at Buck, Kelly smirks and says, almost purring, "My pleasure." When he pushes the jealousy aside, the friendship between Steve and Buck reminds Kelly much of his relationship with Casey. It is precious and valuable.

Steve eyes the two, silently studying them for a minute. "Now, Kid. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He warns, as he winks.

Pausing in his step, Buck straights up and turns to Steve. "Um… That isn't helpful. What wouldn't you do? Seriously. You are crazy. What wouldn't you do?"

Steve takes that as an insult. Acting like someone has slapped him, he demands, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Steve. Stevie. Steve-o…" Buck starts with a wry smile. "You… ah… well… are a caveman." Steve has complained several times that Danny has labeled him a Caveman, and while the Navy Seal denies that comparison, Buck has to agree. Steve is a caveman in every way. If something doesn't go his way, he beats it into submission.

"You-" Steve starts aggressively, but Kelly cuts him off. While it's adorable for Buck and Steve to go back and forth like idiots, Buck and he have a date. A date where no one else matters but them, and he wants to be on that date. He wants to stare into Buck's blue eyes for hours uninterrupted. He wants to make Buck laugh until he can't breathe. He wants to make him happy. To make him smile until his cheeks hurt. "As much as I have enjoyed this- and I have-, I think we better be off."

Buck nods. "Yes!" he states a little forcefully. "I am ready. Let's go."

Kelly holds out his hand to direct Buck to the door. "Let's be off."

Taking Kelly's out stretched out hand, Buck smiles, "My pleasure."

Chapter 23: This is date

Chapter Text

Chapter 23:

This is date

Long time ago

Something electrifying and terrifying forms in the air when Evan slowly lowers himself into the passenger seat of an old, black, rusty 4 door Sudan, and there is a layer of sticky sweat on his hands, which he promptly wipes on his new jeans. Still feeling the moisture on his fingertips, he wipes—more forcibly this time- again, though in a different spot farther down his leg. He, his nerves slapping him hard, takes a deep breath as he tries to settle the race horse in his chest. He never expects to be this anxious about this date. He thought he would be cool as a pickle, especially considering he is a dating pro. He has been on quite a few dates. Plus, he put a lot of foresight into this date. Oh god, Evan thinks, as he takes a deep breath and blows out. He ponders that thought, his cheeks hot.

Yea…Okay…As he thinks back, he can fully – though embarrassed- admit that he put way too much thought into this date, into this night. While he is a bit mortified, he has been thinking about this date with Drew for the entire day. He, going hot pink, has envisioned countless date possibilities, each hotter than the last—which he knows isn't possible. You will reach a point at some point, and he would be lying if he denies the fact that he had spent hours fixated on his outfit as well. It took him forever to find the right outfit, the right message he wanted to portray. Dude, he thinks loudly in his head. What is wrong with him? It isn't like he is-

"You okay, Buckley?" Drew asks, glancing over to the passenger. His eyes linger Evan for a second before returning to the road. "Need some CPR or something?" he winks.

Wided eyed and pink, Evan, shaking his head softly, puffs out his lips and largely blows out. "Um…Yea…j-just a little nervous. First date and all." He admits, actively ignoring his date's latest tease. He can't handle that image in his head right now. It will kill me if he thinks about it.

The driver scrunches up his face as he keeps his eyes on the road. "Really," he asks suspiciously. He pauses, his expression changing ever so slowly, as he carefully looks over and gives Evan a smirk.

His cheeks on fire, Evan replies cautiously and awkwardly, "w-with a g-guy." A big fat chicken, he calls himself. He isn't sure why he's so worried about his date's reaction, but he is.

"Oh." Drew utters, his lips forming an O. "I didn't realize it." His tone is surprised, dropping the playfulness from before.

Evan thickly and awkwardly swallows, his heart in his ears, as his cheeks hurt. "Yup." He pops out his bottom lip. While dating is a dating (the awkwardness of it all) for the most part, he would be lying if he denies the fact that he searched same sex first date tips. Most of them ware unhelpful- too horny for his liking, but there are few tips that he kept in mind.

The driver hums before he goes, "So…are… you out?"

Out. Evan ponders as it takes him a second to realize what his date means. Oh… Out. "Out…" he repeats softly and shakily. "No. Not out. Not out to anyone." Well, besides you and Nate. While he likes to believe his friends would judge him, there is this feeling in the pit of his stomach that he can't shake.

"Which includes your parents?"

The thought of telling his parents gives Evan the shivers as he can envision his parents' wild, extreme reactions. While his dad is less reactive than his mother on most days, he can only see explosions occurring when they, even his dad, find out. For someone who doesn't care about him, his mother hangs a lot of her disappointment on him, cursing at him for his failures. She is the stuff of nightmares. On the other hand, he knows for a fact that his sister won't care, not that he talks to her much nowadays thanks to her boyfriend. Stupid Doug. He wishes that he could talk to her. "No." he states firmly. God…Why are we talking about this?

With a hint of hesitation on his date's face, he replies, "Sorry. That sucks." He opens his mouth to add more, but deciding against, his mouth slaps shut.

Shoulders stiff, Evan exhales deeply and melodramatically shrugs. "N-not like they are good parents anyhow." He bursts out before realizing what he has just said.

His date co*cks his head to the side, expression serious. "Are they…" He shakes his head softly and stops mid-sentence. "Something you want to talk about?"

Evan's heart stops, the atmosphere in the car dipping suddenly, and he desperately wishes he could slip in between the seats and disappear. He opens his mouth, desperately wanting to change the subject, but nothing comes out. This is a date, you idiot. What are you doing?! He screams silently in his head. It is okay. He takes another deep breath and tries once more to say something, to say anything, but his throat is incredibly dry. It is so dry that it hurts, feeling like a desert. As time passes without no words, Evan's anxiety rockets and his fear grows. Did he make a mistake telling his date about his parents?

Such an idiot, his mind hisses at him as he glances out the window, watching the cars speed by. He tries to distract himself by silently counting the vehicles that zoom past them. For a short second it works, but Drew's breathing snaps him back in an instant, and Evan's heart is thumping against his chest. If Evan didn't know better, he would think his heart is seconds from leaping out of his chest. All he can hear is his pounding heart. However, he does get a break from his panic when Drew cut through the silence with a goofy one liner. "What did one cannibal say to the other while they were eating a clown?" He pauses for a second to give Evan a chance to respond before going, "'Does this taste funny to you?'"

One second passes. Then two. Four seconds pass before Evan breaks out into laughter. His chest feels like a two-ton rock has been lifted off him, and he is entirely grateful for the cheesy one liner, even if it is super goofy. It broke him out of his nightmarish thoughts of his parents and brought him back to reality. The reality that he has a hot date with one of the hottest and coolest guys in school. A date with a sweet guy. A sweet guy who has the greatest smile ever. Evan isn't kidding about that as he can stare at his smile for days. "That's funny because he is a clown."

Drew smiles and goes, "Yes. But why is the clown a he? Maybe, she is a she."

Evan's anxiety disappears and he is all smiles. "True…. Granted, I haven't seen a lot of girl clowns."

Drew smirks Evan before counters, "Actually, no. 61% of clowns are women." His date—My date.Evan's chest heats up at the thought- is throwing out random facts about clowns—things Evan doesn't even know, which Evan is eating up. "Did you know that clowns are nicknamed Joeys after the early 19th century pantomime star Joseph Grimaldi?"

Just like his mega smile, Drew's smooth voice makes his knees weak. Granted, that may just be first date nerves, which are hitting Evan like a semi. Oh, Boy. He, happiness exploding off his face, shakes his head and asks, "So… where are we going today?" His eyes are large and staring at Drew.

Humming for 30 seconds, he answers, "I am thinking go-karts." He bobs in his seat before sticking his tongue at Evan. "I can't wait to leave you in my dust, Buckley. I hope you are ready!"

Grinning like a damn fool, Evan chuckles, "You are on!" Pridefully, he throws a fist up and puffs out his chest. "You are going to eat my dust."

…

….

….

As much smack talk as Drew did, Evan is victorious, and he is smiling like a damn fool… Granted that smile only lasts until Evan returns home and his mother is waiting for him with glare that rips right through him.

*O*O*

Chicago

Familiar first date nerves flood the younger man, and Buck shifts awkwardly in the black, leather passenger seat of Kelly's blue mustang trying to settle himself, as he steals glances at Kelly. You got this, Buckley. You got this. You asked him out. Remember that! Buck takes a deep breath. God, how is Kelly so hot? Even with the late notice, the lieutenant looks amazing, hot as ever. "So, I…um… am trusting you." he throws out, stumbling over his words.

Kelly glances over to Buck and grins, teeth shining impossibly white. "Not that I'm not grateful—because I am-, but what are you trusting me on?" He teases.

As if he has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Buck stills and franticly searches for some words. Think, Buckley. Think. "Well, I…umm… I…." he stutters, while giving Kelly a large, cheesy smile. When he told Kelly tonight for their date, he didn't have a plan in mind, and over his little- yes, little- freakout over his clothes, he didn't have time to research for possible date ideas like he would have liked. He hates that he hasn't put much thought into their perfect date. It has to be perfect. But you had that already. He thinks. "I… W-whatta I mean…" He takes a deep breath. "Unless you want to see to see a random movie, I got nothing."

"Oh," Kelly utters, as he, shining his pearly whites, lets out a heavy laugh from deep within his chest. It flows throughout his entire body, shaking him. "There is nothing wrong with movies." He tilts his head and winks his right eye provocatively.

A bashful smile lights up Buck's face and his legs. "Oh, really?"

"Yup."

Buck gasps at Kelly, eyeing his loopy grin. "Is that what you are t-thinking?" he snickers. Oh, don't lie. You would like that too. He thinks to himself as his eyes drop to Kelly's lips. His kissable lips. "The best you can do?" he huffs, breathing through his nose.

Fully aware of what he is doing, Kelly gulps, acting insulted. "Listen here, Buckley. On our next date, we can do something better than the moves like the Medieval Torture Museum or to the Navy pier when I have more time to plan, but for now, I will take you where I take you." He points a sharp finger other at Buck.

Take me?! Buck's brain goes haywire for a second before his eyes go wide, suddenly wrapping his mind around the words 'Medieval Torture Museum', which is something he is interested in doing. However, his thoughts don't linger on that for long as the word 'Next date' slaps him like an open slap. Is Kelly already thinking about their next date? Is he already counting this date as a success? Granted, if his own feelings are any indication of Kelly's feeling, it doesn't matter how the date goes. He wants Kelly and vice versa. Settle down, Buckley.

"You okay over there, Ev?" Kelly inquires, glancing at Buck from the corner of his eyes.

Buck's tongue is sandpaper in his mouth as he tries to form words, only making odd sounds. His mouth can only make odd shapes as he attempts to form a sentence. It is almost laughable… well to anyone besides Buck. He exhales deeply and starts again "I-I'm-um-good, but I would l-love to go to the Medieval Torture Museum. It sounds awesome!" he exclaims, excitedly.

"I figured it would be right up your alley."

"It is," Buck replies, grinning like a damn fool. You damn fool. "Next time."

Kelly echoes, "Next time." They are both aware of what that means.

Once again, silence falls, and neither man breaks it, simply bathing in the other's presence. It's honestly so peaceful and relaxing even if Buck's thoughts are racing. Grab his hand. Grab his hand. You know you want to grab his hand. His mind teases. You know you do. Pinkish, Buck stares out the window, silently counting the buildings they pass as Kelly drives. No, I can't just grab his hand…But you can. Turning his head ever so slightly, his eyes drop to Kelly's right hand on the shifter. "So, are we really going to the movies?" he asks, forcing his eyes up.

"Yes, but… this is going to be different." He takes his hand off the shifter for a second, whirling his finger in the air towards the roof for several seconds, before gripping the shifter. "It's a Rooftop Cinema, where we watch movies under the stars. Might be a tad cold—which is why I brought a blanket, but It's really cool." Kelly pauses before he adds, "And romantic."

"On the roof?" Buck repeats, trying to envision it. He can barely focus on it for a second before an image of him sharing a blanket with Kelly makes his stomach flip.

As if Kelly knows what Buck is thinking, he shots him a sexy smirk. "Yes. In nice comfy chairs with yummy foods."

Buck shakes his head, clearing the vision from his mind. "Just as long as they have popcorn." He throws out, needing to change the subject. He needs to slow his heart.

Kelly snorts. "I'm pretty sure they will have popcorn."

His mood changing, Buck suddenly and overtly shifts in his chair, staring intently at the side of Kelly's face. "Pretty sure?! Only pretty sure?!" he asks, his voice squealing. His expression morphs and his mouth drops, as if he's hearing the most mind-boggling thing ever. There better be popcorn or else.

Kelly's right-hand flies to his ear while he conveys. "Ouch, Buckley. Ouch." He, still smiling, shoots Buck an amused yet twitchy look. "My ears!"

Once again Buck's expressions changes, his eyes going wide and his cheeks going pink. "sorry," he mutters, sheepishly.

Kelly straightens up in his seat, glancing at Buck's sunken face. With Buck's eyes bouncing between the road and Buck, he studies the hollow expression on his face, assessing every twitch. "Hey. Stop that." He orders softly, his tone serious, before he gives Buck a nice big grin. "We're all good. Honestly, I'm enjoying this even if my ears aren't." He pauses. "You are adorable when you smile." Without wasting a second, he reaches over the center console and takes Buck's hand into his. His thumb softly suns across Buck's knuckles.

It doesn't matter how many times Kelly says it, Buck will go pink in the face every time he calls him adorable. He is holding my hand! "Thanks," he blushes as he settles back in his chair. Kelly's heat radiates up to his Buck's arms

"Delectable."

sh*t.

*O*O*

There is a cold chill in the air, which neither Buck nor Kelly noticed at first, but when they do, it is like it doesn't exist. As cheesy as it sounds, it feels like they are sitting in front of a fire, bathing in each other's heat. God, how cheesy is that? He thinks, bashfully. However, they do note that it gets colder as they climb. When they finally reached the building, Buck throws out, "I am getting my workout today." What the hell, Buckley? A long walk?!

With a blanket under his left arm, Kelly playfully rolls his eyes as he reaches a hand forward toward the elevator buttons. "Oh, really? Such a long walk to the elevator, was it?" he teases.

"Y-yup!"

The lieutenant's expression turns devilish. "I better tell Casey that one of his firefighters needs more drill. He is getting lazy."

Buck's eyes narrow, though still smiling. "I'm pretty sure Casey will side with me, Lieutenant Severide."

"Oh, you think my best friend will believe you over me, Firefighter Buckley?"

Unable to stop the snort from escaping from his lips, Buck grins, "As your best friend, he knows you very well. He won't be tricked by your foolery." It is very difficult not to be happy and cheery around Kelly.

Kelly just laughs. "I can't argue that."

When the elevator comes to a stop, the two men step out and make their way to the rooftop entrance. Buck isn't sure what he expected when Kelly said Rooftop cinema, but this beats his expectations. Due to the extreme weather changes in Chicago, he hasn't expected anything permanent, but this beats what he has in his head. He expected something that can be easily broken down and something that might not have been the most comfortable. That isn't what he sees here. It looks adorable.

At the back of the roof—closest to them- are a set of large, comfy, blue sofas with random board games on side tables next to them. There's a group of 4 people playing chutes and ladders at one of them, looking like they are having the best time. At a different table/sofa set, Buck spots a large connect four, where he can envision beating Kelly at. "You wanna play." He tilts his head. What are you doing, Buckley?! You can't challenge him in connect 4. That would kill the mood.

Kelly follows Buck's eyes to the game and smirks. "Probably not the best idea. For some reason, I feel like you're a competitive sh*t like me, and that is too much sh*t for this rooftop."

Buck snorts. "Can't deny that. It is for the safety of everyone else." Across from the seating and board games stands the concession stand with a line ten people deep, and there to the left of it is a large popcorn stand, which Buck is happy about. At first, he mentioned popcorn to just change the subject, but after thinking about it, he started to crave the stuff, and now, he wants popcorn with his movie, damn it. It sounds so good! Opposite the concessions is the technical section of the operation which housed the head phones everyone will be wearing.

Glancing forward, Buck spots a wall of flowers. A wall isn't exactly the best way to describe it, but it's a line of bushes that span over half the width of the roof. All kind of flowers are sprinkled throughout, making a colorful art piece. While he cannot confirm if the eight-foot-high wall of flowers is real at this distance, he is struck with another desire. Buckley, no! However, he cannot help it. He wants a picture of Kelly and him in front of that wall. "H-Hey K-Kelly," he starts slowly. "Do you want to take a photo with me?"

Kelly pauses for a second and studies Buck's nervous expression. He glances at the wall from the corner of his eyes before he nods. "I would love too." He answers. He takes out his phone and waves toward a passing couple. "Hey, excuses me!" He waves at them with a smile on his face. "Do mind taking our photo?" he asks, extending his hand forward with the phone.

The couple—a man and a woman—pauses for a second, eyeing the phone for a second before going. "Yea, sure."

Extending out his right hand, Kelly motions Buck to the wall. "Ready?" he asks.

Buck, feeling a little silly at the thought of asking a stranger, follows Kelly to the wall. "Yup."

At first, Buck puts an awkward foot between Kelly and him, but Kelly doesn't let that stand. Without saying a word, he pulls Buck closer and throws out, "That's better," as he puts his hand on Buck's hip.

"Smile," Buck blushes as he puts on a smile. Kelly doesn't disobey that order, not that he isn't already smiling. His smile takes up this entire face.

Kelly's hand is hot on Buck's hip. OMG, Kelly's hand is on my hip…OMG, are you a bushing virgin? "Say Cheese," he replies.

Without hesitation, Kelly says, "Cheese." Standing still, the couple takes several pictures before handing Kelly back his phone. "Thank you!" Kelly thanks as he takes back his phone. The couple doesn't stay to chat and goes to find their seats. Kelly's eyes drop to his phone and starts to swipe through the photo photos that the couple took. "Look at these," he says, tilted the phone toward Buck.

Buck leans over and stares at Kelly's phone. Besides some blurriness or random adjustment of limbs, the photos are the same. He and Kelly are standing shoulder with his hand on Buck's hip. That hand looks rather possessive if you ask Buck. We look like a couple is Buck's first thought…Well, you are a couple…Not yet A different voice interjected in his head. He shakes his head and gawks at the smile on their faces. Those are some good-looking smiles. "You're going to send me one of those." He orders.

Kelly brings his hand up as if to salute Buck. "Yes, Sir!" he replies as he picks the best photo out of the group and sends it to Buck. "Happy?" he laughs.

Hearing his phone ping, Buck softly bumps Kelly with his shoulder. "Yup." Totally going to stare at that photo later. his brain teases. Shut up.

"Bossy, man." Kelly pauses and goes, "At this rate, we are going to get distracted and miss our movie."

"We can't have that." Buck counters as he continues forward. Past the flower wall sits multiple rows of seats for the movie with a huge white movie screen at the end of the roof. In the background is the Chicago Skyline- the remaining sunlight bouncing off the skyscrapers, which sparkle in the fading light. The wind, icy on their faces, whistles as it whirls around the building. It is breathtaking. Can we just stay here for a second? Just the two of us?

"What movie are we watching?" He asks, though the answer doesn't matter. He will be good with any movie. He's too busy bathing in the romance in the air to care. He'll watch anything at this point. Standing next to Kelly, he can feel the electricity on his skin, running through his veins, and finds himself beaming like a goofy ball as he resists the urge to break out in a dance. His chest hot, his eyes zip up to the sky, which still has no stars in the darkening dusty blue sky—not that they are visible with the city light. Yet, he keeps his eyes up as if he can see them. He inhales deeply, trying to drown his excitement, but that is—

Suddenly, there's a gasp of hot air on his ear—sending an intense shiver down Buck's spine- and Buck goes still as Kelly whispers, "Didn't I tell you before that you won't be able to see the stars in the city?"

Buck's vision drops, and he, blinking, directs his blues eyes at the older man. "Oh that. Yes, I remember. YOU told me that you would have to show me sometimes." He stabs Kelly in the chest with his finger.

Kelly hums. "Did I?" he questions with a smile, scratching at the bottom of his chin. "I don't remember that. Are you messing with me, Buckley?" He pauses as he watches Buck's expression morph into something playful and devious.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Buck denies playfully, as he takes a step back and rocks on his heel. His nerves gone, he is just a ball of energy, a ball of energy who has taken 5 energy drinks.

Matching Buck's energy, Kelly teases, "Oh, really?" He does a dramatic pause before he goes, "okay. I guess we don't have to do it."

"Hey!" Buck exclaims a tad too loud, drawing a few heads to turn towards him.

Scanning the crow, Kelly chucks, a Chester cat smile. "However, I would be up to it."

"Oh, you would?" Being alone with Kelly in the woods? Oh, my god. Oh, my god.

"Oh, yes." Kelly responds, his chuckle coming from deep within. The two men lock eyes, bathing in the other's intense warmth. It's aweing and overwhelming, and yet, they stay still. Though they don't know it, they are thinking the same thing: this feels right. This feels good. They aren't going anywhere. With a heated breath, Kelly is the first to break eye contact, though there's a bit of hesitation when he turns away. He reaches his arm forward, hoovering an inch over Buck's right arm. "Why don't find some seats and then get some food and drinks?" he offers, as he motions to the blanket he has in his arm.

"Don't forget popcorn." Yea don't forget the popcorn.

Snickering, Kelly replies, "Not possible."

*O*O*

The volume on the root top grows as more and more people show up, filling the seats. The energy is fun and lively, and it is nice. So Freaken nice. It feels normal. "You know… I'm the one that asked you out," Buck states slowly but firmly as he looks up from the loveseat four rows back from the screen. "I can pay." He pouts, looking so adorable.

Kelly's brain goes haywire for a second, stunned by Buck being Buck. If he is being honest, he isn't sure what the protocol for this. Does he pay for everything? Do they split the bill? Is this automatically known? Okay, he is totally overthinking this. If Buck was a woman, Kelly would offer to pay, so why would it be any different? He has no issue with paying. He just doesn't want to insult Buck. "Technically, I asked you out first." He counters playfully.

"Yea but my ask was most recent." Buck protests as he wraps himself tighter into the blanket. He looks like a burrito.

As Buck curls up in Kelly's large blanket, Kelly is struck how adorable Buck is when he puckers naughtily. Is it too early to take him home? "Next time." Was he answering himself or Buck?

Straightening up in the loveseat, Buck narrows his eyes at Kelly and hums. "Are you going to say that next time?"

Kelly gives him a cheeky smile before going, "I'll be back, Buckley."

"Popcorn!" Buck cheers as Kelly walks away, his back facing him.

*O*O*

Feeling like a court jester, Kelly regrets his life choices as he attempts to juggle everything. Why did he think this is a good idea? However, the cashier did offer him a tray which he is grateful for. On the way back to their seat, he takes it easy to make sure that he doesn't spill the two beers over the two orders of tacos and the large popcorn, though the popcorn is the most important. No doubt Buck will skin him alive if he doesn't bring back the popcorn in perfect condition. He can already envision the dejected expression on Buck's face if he returns without the popcorn, which will kill Kelly, so he must protect it at all cost.

With his eyes on the tray, he slowly weaves through the maze of people, being careful not to bump into anyone, and Kelly's dedication pays off. When he gets back to their seats and spots the former floater, he almost melts completely when he sees Buck's beautiful face beaming up at him. The heat and contentment roll off the man like a heater, and even with the chill in the air, Kelly feels it. "Got your popcorn."

Buck is all smiles. "And tacos?" Straightening out his legs, Buck's eyes drop to the taco.

"Yes."

"Who can say no to tacos?"

"No one." No one is lying here.

From there, it takes a second for Kelly to kick himself into gear, his eyes glued to Buck, as he sets their food and drinks down on the small table next to them. Standing perfectly and hiding his hands in his pockets, a brief second of hesitation—a painful second—passes as he stares down at the burrito Buck, who hasn't moved at all and is still all wrapped in Kelly's blank fuzzy blanket. The old blanket was a last second grab, Kelly not thinking about the weather until he was leaving. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted it from his apartment door and grabbed it. "Comfy?" he asks, tempted to steal it right back from Buck and make Buck come for it. Granted, he will never. Who can steal from a man smiling at him like that? No, no sane person will. Besides, Kelly would much rather cuddle with him under that blanket, his warm skin against his.

"Very, but you can join." Buck gives him the cutest grin ever, as he slowly starts to uncurl.

Kelly doesn't ask twice, lifts one side of the blanket—the side Buck has opened for him-, and climbs in next the man, who reaches forward for his popcorn and holds onto it for dear life with the other hand. Kelly drops down—Yes, with a nice thump—and pulls the blanket up and around him. "Nice and comfy," he announces as he gets cozy next to the heater that is Evan Buckley. They aren't touching but they are close. "Only be better if you give me some of the popcorn." Letting the blanket drop only two inches, he reaches his arm up as if to take some.

Buck, silently, gives Kelly a devilish glare, as he contemplates sharing. The intensity in his glaring dying, his head bobs for a second before he reluctantly tilts the popcorn ever so slightly toward Kelly and says, "You're lucky I like you." he pauses. "Don't eat too much. You want to save room for those tacos."

From the corner of his eyes, Kelly spots a few stares from the crown as they file in, but his eyes swiftly return to Buck and that smile. "Don't worry about that." He says as he pops in few kernels before reaching for one of the tacos. In what seems like seconds, he stuffs it down in one big bit. After clearing his throat and swallowing deeply, he smiles, "see!"

"I see." He nods, scrunching up his eyes, as he stuffs a few kernels into his mouth.

They lock eyes again, and it takes everything in Kelly not to lean over and cover Buck's lips with his own, even with the popcorn. He doesn't know why he is resisting as he doubts that Buck would object to a kiss, though he may not enjoy a surprised kiss in public while eating popcorn. Even with his bubbly personality, he is a bit shy, though Kelly doesn't know if it is a permanent thing or a recent thing. He doesn't believe it is a permanent thing as Buck is opening up, and Kelly is learning that he is crazy.

Not that's important. This is a date, and the point is that they came here for a movie and get to know each other, not to make out—even if Kelly doesn't mind if they do. I do not. As the lights start to lower and the screen begins to show previews, Kelly's eyes go to Buck, and he quickly contemplates how he wants to play this. Screw this. You're overthinking this, he tells himself. Without another thought, he scooted closer to the younger man. He can feel the shiver that runs through Buck's body at contact and just says seductively, "hello."

Meeting Kelly's eyes, Buck takes a deep breath and leans into Kelly. "Back at you. Now shh!" he nods his head toward the screen.

Unsure how serious Buck is about his movie watching, Kelly shoots Buck a question gaze as he snakes Buck's hand into his. "It's fine," Kelly waves off as the two men get comfortable against each other. The heat is instant as he grips Buck's hand tightly, his thumb lining circles into Buck's skin.

When selecting the Rooftop cinema for their date, they didn't have a choice in the movie, having to accept whatever is playing, but Kelly isn't complaining. Heck, he isn't paying too much attention to the movie to complain, his thoughts glued to the warm heat to his right. Buck is just radiating heat and Kelly is loving every second of it, smashing them together even more. The food and beer, however, sitting on the table is mocking him, but he doesn't want to move for anything, even if he wants a slip of beer. No, he will just sit here and take in Buck's presence.

*O*O*

Again, Kelly didn't have a choice in the movie, but he isn't complaining now. No, he wouldn't consider Scream (1996) a particularly scary movie, but it does have some jump scares, which gets Buck every time. Kelly can't help but chuckle each time it happens, especially when he causes the entire loveseat to move. "You okay, down there?" he whispers.

Buck peaks up, meeting Kelly's piercing blue stare. "Yup," he mutters, as he resettles himself against Kelly. He wraps himself tighter in the blanket.

"Are you sure?" Kelly teases, wrapping an arm around him and taking Buck's weight.

"Yup." He says a bit more forcefully.

"Even if you aren't, I got you," Kelly says.

Buck nods against Kelly before he rests his head on Kelly's shoulder like a pillow. The headphones do dig into Kelly's shoulders, but he ignores the pain as Buck goes, "My hero!"

"Well, it's my job."

Buck snorts. "Same here," he counters as his eyes return to the movie. However, he picks a bad time to return to refocus on the movie as the killer does a jump scare with his bloody knife. Once again, he makes the loveseat move. "sh*t."

Kelly laughs as he lays his cheek on the top of Buck's head. The action feels completely normal. "Never seen this movie or just a chicken?"

"Shut up," Buck spouts, readjusting himself ever so slightly.

Letting Buck enjoy the movie, Kelly doesn't tease him back. His eyes flicker back and forth with the movie and the top of his head. He can't pick which one to watch. With Buck's head on his shoulder and his weight in his arms, Kelly's level of comfort is so high that he doesn't move again—the same with Buck oddly enough, and even when the lights slowly come up, he doesn't want to get up. "But I am so comfortable," he whines softly.

Buck groans as he wiggles his feet. "Sames."

At hearing Buck's sleepy voice, he, giving Buck a once over, slowly pushes himself up, and the blanket falls ever so slowly to their waist. "Good movie?" he asks Buck, who is sporting some wicked bed hair.

Rapidly blinking, Buck looks up at him and uncurls out of Kelly's arms. "I might have dozed off for a second."

A second passes as Kelly reflects that statement. "Oh, really? You, Buckley? You jumped several times. How did you fall asleep?"

Buck's red cheeks have returned. "Yea, but after I realize who the killers were, you were so comfy that I…um…"

"Buckley!" Kelly chastises softly as he removes his headphones.

The crowd begin to break out in higher voiced chatter as they also start to filter out in groups. "As if you were fully focused on the movie," Buck counters. "I remember those eyes staring at me."

Feeling caught, Kelly takes a deep breath and glances around, eyeing the crowd exit for a second, "Guilty as charge, but you are so pretty." That isn't a lie. Buck is very pretty. "But enough of that. Can't let that go to your head." He pauses. "Let's go for a walk." He offers as he stares into Buck's eyes. He doesn't want this night to end.

"A w-walk?" Buck shutters.

"Yea, let's go." Kelly's nerves won't let him sit any longer. Buck charges him up, and he needs to get up. He needs to get this energy out.

*O*O*

When Kelly pulls out of the parking lot, he doesn't have a destination in mind. His mind falls into autopilot, his mind focused heavily on the man next to him, and picks a random direction. Buck doesn't say anything, seeming as content in the silence as Kelly is. Not all conversations need to be spoken to be understood, and not everything worthy needs to be spoken aloud. Like now, Kelly bathes it all in and drives, vaguely aware of all the traffic laws. While he does stop for all the red lights, he doesn't recall doing it. He only snaps back to reality when a large body of water appears in the foreground.

"I always said I wanted to live somewhere with a beach." Buck offers up, speaking for the first time in ten minutes.

"Did you now?" Kelly responds, his eyes flicker to Buck before zipping back to the road. It doesn't take long for Kelly to find a parking spot along the Lakefront trail and turn the car off.

Buck hums for a second, his head slowly bobbing back and forth. "Yea," he starts. "…Though, I never thought that beach would be to a lake." He replies as he slowly gets out the car, his eyes and ears on the roaring lake's wave. He lets the lake's presence just wash over him.

Kelly steps out of his car, but he doesn't step out from the opened door. He stands in there, leaning against the car door, and simply watches Buck. With the bright lights of the city shining in the background and the building reflecting off the back lake, Buck looks radiant. But he always does. When Buck is a good 15 feet down the walkway, Kelly softly shuts his car door and jogs after Buck. It takes a few seconds to catch up, but when he is side by side with the man, he gives Buck a quick once over, before saying. "You okay."

"Yea, just thinking."

Kelly's heart skips a beat, suddenly worried that Buck is unhappy here. Masking that fear, he shakes that thought out of his head and asks, "About what?"

Buck doesn't answer quickly, keeping his eye out on the water. "About how different my life is now. Light and day… Back than…" He pauses as he inhales deeply. "I would've never had thought I would be here. That I would be happy again. That I would find a home again with people who want me." He tilts his head back to look at Kelly and smiles. "Never thought I have an amazing guy interested in me. So, yea… I never expected this."

Taking his own deep breath, Kelly utters, "Evan." His brain freezes.

Turning back to the lake, Buck adds, "So not the beach I expected or the life I expected."

Kelly stands still trying to process what Buck is saying. "And you are okay with that?" Kelly likes to think yes, but regardless of the answer, it makes him angry at the 118, who has wronged Buck, again.

"Very."

"Good," Kelly replies, letting out the breath that he doesn't know he is holding.

Buck turns fully to Kelly and lets out one huge laugh as he scratches his nose. "So, are we going for that walk?"

The sudden change in Buck's tone always gives Kelly whiplash, but he goes with the flow. "I'm just waiting for you, Buckley. Not my fault you get distracted easily." Kelly ignores the wounded, insulted expression on Buck's face and walks past him.

Only a second passes before he hurries after Kelly, his footsteps heavy. He isn't as graceful as he normally is, stumbling over his feet. He lets out an awkward groan as he catches himself from face planting just in time. "I see what you're doing now." Buck, breathing heavily, accuses as he walks two feet behind him. He buries his hand in his pockets, so he doesn't flock like a crazy bird.

Stopping in his tracks, Kelly turns, his right eye brow raised. "What am I doing?"

Buck's eyes scan the area, taking a mental picture of the lake and the number of people on the trail. Besides, for a random person 50 feet down the walkway, they are alone. It seems no one wants to be out tonight. "We aren't too far from where we walked on our first date." He shots out.

The word 'date' echoes loudly in Kelly's head, and he freezes. Out of all the things he expects Buck to say, that's not one of them. While that first 'date' felt like a date, Kelly refuses to call it a date—wanting to keep his hopes down, but hearing Buck say 'date' sends shivers up his spine. "A date, Buckley?" he winks.

Buck stiffens up and turns ever so slowly towards Kelly, his face bright pink even in the dark. They shine like two flashlights. "What?" he spits out.

"You said our first date." Kelly is all cheeks.

Shuttering and blinking rapidly, Buck replies slowly, "D-did I-I say t-that?"

Kelly is smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt, and yet he can't stop smiling. "You did." The idea that both of them consider that date their first date makes him feel light enough to walk on air. It is electrifying.

"I…um…I…um…" Buck's enchanting blue eyes are large and wide, and with his head tilted to the side, his hand scratches at the spot directly below his right ear. He rocks back and forth on his heel, his nerves visible. "Well, I… You see…um…."

While listening to Buck's nonsensical rumbles, Kelly can't help but admire Buck's bashfulness. It is a new experience for Kelly, not all of his dates had this level of shyness, and it is downright adorable. "Buck… Evan," he calls, his voice soft and smooth. The younger man doesn't respond to Kelly—his voice not even registering-, as he gets redder and redder as time goes on. He starts to wave in his arms wildly and in a non-sensible fashion. Holding back a laugh, it makes Kelly's heart skip and his chest go hot. With his brain sputtering, Kelly does what he does best. He crosses to Buck in two large steps and draws him into his arms. Swiftly and smoothly, he captures Buck's lips with his, and like all the other times, it is the most amazing thing ever. God, Buck tastes delicious.

While Kelly is tempted to kiss him until the sun comes up, he breaks the kiss, through only lingering an inch from the pink kissable lips. "I like to think of that as our first date too." He huffs softly, his breath hot on Buck's face. He has to admit that it is a different experience to be looking straight into Buck's blue eyes, instead of looking down, but he isn't complaining. He will never complain about kissing Buck… Evan.

This time, at hearing those words, Buck—without saying a word- surges forward and catches Kelly's lips into his. Unlike before, Buck is charged up, and in full control, pushes back hard against Kelly, grabbing his jacket to pull him closer. With an intense hunger, Buck shows Kelly who he is and takes the lead.