hey look it's a pinned post! general info: please feel absolutely free to dm/yap at me about any of my tags/spec/writing/posts/your thoughts/whatever. bouncing around ideas is my love language and it helps me write (& like evan "buck" buckley I crave validation)
[my writing tag] [Ao3 link]
main 9-1-1 wip/story tags:
[tommy begins]
[dead probie saga]
[antarct-fic]
[8:39 pm]
[pothos | pathos]
[sweetmeats au / what can ail thee, knight-at-arms?]
[keep the streets empty]
-
I also love making playlists and am happy to take requests
[need a smile?]
chronological list of snippets below (severely outdated) ↓
tommy begins snippets/drabbles [tag]
these snippets all belong to the same world/timeline to form a backstory for tommy. the categories nearly all overlap to some degree (e.g. both abby and victor appear in the dead probie saga)
27: Swim [army]
meeting Abby [tag]
shortly after Tommy returns to LA from the army, he witnesses an accident and calls 911. this is how he meets dispatcher abby clark
2: Family
Snippet 1
Snippet 4
Snippet 2
Snippet 3
[story with abby continues into dead probie saga & beyond - see links marked a]
-
bad habits aka the dead probie saga [tag]
"you don't name a puppy until you know it's gonna pull through." meet Brian Emmerson, probie to the 118, and puppy who didn't pull through.
post-break up and staring down the barrel of spending the holidays alone, tommy does the one thing any normal, reasonable person would do in his situation: he signs up to fly helicopters in antarctica
41: Hostage
Tommy & Lucy talk Abby
10: Pole
12: Disguise
11: Viral
Bubbling Buck pt 1
Bubbling Buck pt 2
43: Station
13: Volunteer
14: Begin
44: Triage
16: Treasure
33: Faith
Buck & Madney galley crew snippet
Buck & Madney & The Thing Tease Tidbit
Talk with Eddie snippet
17: Approach
-- tommy arrives in antarctica
24: Bizarre
29: Christmas
31: Imposter
34: Complex
Complex cont. snippet
48: Expose
23: Fantasy
-- buck arrives in antarctica
37: Bewilder
49: Moon
45: Wish
42: Lasagna
50: Recuperate
35: Proposal
Lunch order snippet
53: Strike
51: Floor
52: Panic
Drinks with Katie
Larry
46: Instinct
26: Enlist
54: Alarm
55: Mayday
57: Avoid
56: Captain
58: Sink
59: Flight
61: Stuck
39: Worst
38: School
40: Confess
The universe wants us to talk snippet
Buck yelling wip snippet
60: Karma
-
8:39 fic
turns out, the string of fate that connects buck and tommy passes through a specific moment in time: 8:39 PM. when a truck swerves off the road and a helicopter crashes at the exact same time, the string crumples and all those instances of 8:39 PM collide. oh, and they're both dying.
a chronological timeline for this one is... complicated. so just check out the tag. :]
hey look it's a pinned post! general info: please feel absolutely free to dm/yap at me about any of my tags/spec/writing/posts/your thoughts/whatever. bouncing around ideas is my love language and it helps me write (& like evan "buck" buckley I crave validation)
[my writing tag] [Ao3 link]
main 9-1-1 wip/story tags:
[tommy begins]
[dead probie saga]
[antarct-fic]
[8:39 pm]
[pothos | pathos]
[sweetmeats au / what can ail thee, knight-at-arms?]
[keep the streets empty]
-
I also love making playlists and am happy to take requests
[need a smile?]
chronological list of snippets below (severely outdated) ↓
tommy begins snippets/drabbles [tag]
these snippets all belong to the same world/timeline to form a backstory for tommy. the categories nearly all overlap to some degree (e.g. both abby and victor appear in the dead probie saga)
27: Swim [army]
meeting Abby [tag]
shortly after Tommy returns to LA from the army, he witnesses an accident and calls 911. this is how he meets dispatcher abby clark
2: Family
Snippet 1
Snippet 4
Snippet 2
Snippet 3
[story with abby continues into dead probie saga & beyond - see links marked a]
-
bad habits aka the dead probie saga [tag]
"you don't name a puppy until you know it's gonna pull through." meet Brian Emmerson, probie to the 118, and puppy who didn't pull through.
post-break up and staring down the barrel of spending the holidays alone, tommy does the one thing any normal, reasonable person would do in his situation: he signs up to fly helicopters in antarctica
41: Hostage
Tommy & Lucy talk Abby
10: Pole
12: Disguise
11: Viral
Bubbling Buck pt 1
Bubbling Buck pt 2
43: Station
13: Volunteer
14: Begin
44: Triage
16: Treasure
33: Faith
Buck & Madney galley crew snippet
Buck & Madney & The Thing Tease Tidbit
Talk with Eddie snippet
17: Approach
-- tommy arrives in antarctica
24: Bizarre
29: Christmas
31: Imposter
34: Complex
Complex cont. snippet
48: Expose
23: Fantasy
-- buck arrives in antarctica
37: Bewilder
49: Moon
45: Wish
42: Lasagna
50: Recuperate
35: Proposal
Lunch order snippet
53: Strike
51: Floor
52: Panic
Drinks with Katie
Larry
46: Instinct
26: Enlist
54: Alarm
55: Mayday
57: Avoid
56: Captain
58: Sink
59: Flight
61: Stuck
39: Worst
38: School
40: Confess
The universe wants us to talk snippet
Buck yelling wip snippet
60: Karma
-
8:39 fic
turns out, the string of fate that connects buck and tommy passes through a specific moment in time: 8:39 PM. when a truck swerves off the road and a helicopter crashes at the exact same time, the string crumples and all those instances of 8:39 PM collide. oh, and they're both dying.
a chronological timeline for this one is... complicated. so just check out the tag. :]
hey look it's a pinned post! general info: please feel absolutely free to dm/yap at me about any of my tags/spec/writing/posts/your thoughts/whatever. bouncing around ideas is my love language and it helps me write (& like evan "buck" buckley I crave validation)
[my writing tag] [Ao3 link]
main 9-1-1 wip/story tags:
[tommy begins]
[dead probie saga]
[antarct-fic]
[8:39 pm]
[pothos | pathos]
[sweetmeats au / what can ail thee, knight-at-arms?]
[keep the streets empty]
-
I also love making playlists and am happy to take requests
[need a smile?]
chronological list of snippets below (severely outdated) ↓
tommy begins snippets/drabbles [tag]
these snippets all belong to the same world/timeline to form a backstory for tommy. the categories nearly all overlap to some degree (e.g. both abby and victor appear in the dead probie saga)
27: Swim [army]
meeting Abby [tag]
shortly after Tommy returns to LA from the army, he witnesses an accident and calls 911. this is how he meets dispatcher abby clark
2: Family
Snippet 1
Snippet 4
Snippet 2
Snippet 3
[story with abby continues into dead probie saga & beyond - see links marked a]
-
bad habits aka the dead probie saga [tag]
"you don't name a puppy until you know it's gonna pull through." meet Brian Emmerson, probie to the 118, and puppy who didn't pull through.
post-break up and staring down the barrel of spending the holidays alone, tommy does the one thing any normal, reasonable person would do in his situation: he signs up to fly helicopters in antarctica
41: Hostage
Tommy & Lucy talk Abby
10: Pole
12: Disguise
11: Viral
Bubbling Buck pt 1
Bubbling Buck pt 2
43: Station
13: Volunteer
14: Begin
44: Triage
16: Treasure
33: Faith
Buck & Madney galley crew snippet
Buck & Madney & The Thing Tease Tidbit
Talk with Eddie snippet
17: Approach
-- tommy arrives in antarctica
24: Bizarre
29: Christmas
31: Imposter
34: Complex
Complex cont. snippet
48: Expose
23: Fantasy
-- buck arrives in antarctica
37: Bewilder
49: Moon
45: Wish
42: Lasagna
50: Recuperate
35: Proposal
Lunch order snippet
53: Strike
51: Floor
52: Panic
Drinks with Katie
Larry
46: Instinct
26: Enlist
54: Alarm
55: Mayday
57: Avoid
56: Captain
58: Sink
59: Flight
61: Stuck
39: Worst
38: School
40: Confess
The universe wants us to talk snippet
Buck yelling wip snippet
60: Karma
-
8:39 fic
turns out, the string of fate that connects buck and tommy passes through a specific moment in time: 8:39 PM. when a truck swerves off the road and a helicopter crashes at the exact same time, the string crumples and all those instances of 8:39 PM collide. oh, and they're both dying.
a chronological timeline for this one is... complicated. so just check out the tag. :]
So, I wrote a part 2 to this fic because the brain worms wouldn’t let it go.
Enjoy!
🩶
*******
Buck squiggles the last signature on the last form and sighs, leaning back on his chair. “Done. Finally.”
“Hmm?” Tommy answers across the kitchen, turning around taking a bite of toast. A few crumbs fall to his bare chest and he wipes them away with his hand. Buck is enthralled.
Morning Tommy was one of the versions Buck loved the most. Bare chested, sweats hanging low on his hips, hair dishevelled and pointing in every direction at once. It was the version of Tommy that only he got to see; the relaxed, non-put together man that was the opposite of the well postured, professional aesthetic the rest of the world got.
This is his Tommy.
“Uh,” he pulled himself back to the topic at hand. “I finally finished all of the LAFD paperwork. Going to hand it all in today.” He blew out a nervous sigh.
“Are you sure?” Tommy asks, his tone gentle.
Buck nods. “I can’t hide it anymore.”
“You’re not hiding anything, Evan. It’s your right to disclose this whenever you feel comfortable.”
Buck gets up and slides his arms around Tommys waist, holding his hands together behind Tommys back. Tommys forearms rest lightly on Bucks shoulders.
“I am comfortable. I haven told them yet not because I’m uncomfortable about it—I just wanted to.. I dunno, keep this to myself for a few weeks. Enjoy this, just me and you before the world knows and everybody starts asking a thousand questions.”
“So long as you’re sure.” Tommy says with that always adoring look.
Buck smiles brightly then presses a sweet, chaste kiss to Tommys lips. “Absolutely.”
“In that case, I have something for you.”
*****
Buck knocks on the captains door and Chim’s voice calls out.
“Come in!”
“Uh, hey, Cap. Got some paperwork for you.”
“Just add it to the pile.” He gestures to the large pile at the corner of his desk. “Half the time I thought Bobby was slacking off when he’d spend hours in here but now I know why—the paperwork never ends.”
Buck gives a halfhearted huff of a laugh and turns to walk out.
“Okay, stop.” Buck does as told and turns around. “Why are you wearing a silicone band on your ring finger?”
Buck takes a deep breath. This was it; the moment everybody was going to find out.
“Because I’m married.”
Chimney stares back at him for a beat before his face turns to one of amusement. “Very funny Buck. Seriously why?”
“I’m not joking. That’s what all the paper work is for.”
Chimney immediately stands up and grabs the paper Buck had put on his desk and flips through them. “Wait.. insurance, pension, name change form for Evan Kin-“ He looks back up at Buck this time wide eyed. “Kinard?! You and Tommy got married?! When?!”
“Three weeks ago.” He answered steadily.
“Is that why you used 3 weeks of PTO? To elope?!”
Buck shrugs. “Pretty much, yeah.” He leaves out the part about them wanting to spend most of the time after their union naked in bed and making up for lost time. “There’s no uniform requisition forms though—I’m sticking with Buckley professionally so there’s no confusion if Tommy and I both on the same scenes. But legally, I’m Evan Kinard.”
He was incandescent when he came home from the DMV yesterday with his brand new drivers license bearing his new name. He’d excitedly told every staff member he’d spoken to that he’d just gotten married and was taking his husbands name.”
“I.. Does Maddie know about this?”
Buck shook his head. “Nope. You’re the first. Well, technically the second—Tommy has a pretty extensive life insurance policy and pension from his time in the military so we filed all the paper work adding me to the policies a few days after, along with all the LAFD stuff. So it’s his captain and you that know now.”
“Buck..” his tone has changed from being pissed that this was how he was finding out about Bucks nuptials, to being sad and genuinely surprised.
“You can tell her if you like.” He says. He happy to hand that notification over to Chim. Half because he doesn’t have it in him to hear his sister tell him he’s rushed into something (again), and doesn’t want to see that familiar sad look on her face where she knows Bucks made a mistake and he “just can’t see it yet”, and half out of spite because she’s barely taken an interest in him over the last few months, even before little Robert was born. It felt kind of shitty on his part, but he’d grown tired of always putting himself out there for everybody else and barely getting anything in return.
Tommy, both before they broke up and after, had never once made him feel like he was less than; always came running when Buck needed him even after he’d been on the receiving end of Bucks spiteful words the morning after they’d hooked up. He gave Buck more grace than even his closest loved ones had ever offered him.
“Don’t you think it should come from you?” Chimney pleads.
He sighs. “Honestly.. I don’t care.” And he really doesn’t. “Let me know when you’ve filed the paperwork? Thanks, Cap.” He gives a polite smile and nods then heads out of the door, leaving Chimney standing at his desk open mouthed.
He makes his way to the rec room which is currently empty and flops down on the sofa, taking out his phone and opening his message thread with Tommy.
Handed in the paper work. Chim now knows which means everybody else will know asap.
You okay?
He smiles to himself.
I really am. I love you.
The sheer amount of butterflies and warmth he feels saying that to Tommy is almost overwhelming. He simply can’t quite reconcile how any human can feel this much for another person.
I love you too sweetheart.
Keep me updated how you’re doing today. If it gets too much let me know and I’ll storm the station to rescue you.
My hero!
Always ❤️.
God, how can one person be this perfect? He knows Tommy isn’t really perfect; that he has a lot of issues he needs to deal with. They both do. Before they’d flown off to Vegas and gotten married they spent a day researching therapists, both individual and couples therapists and already had appointments booked before they said “I do”.
They both are committed to not just their marriage but to each other and themselves; both wanting to put the effort and time into processing their pasts and the developing better and healthy coping strategies for when they’re overwhelmed. For Tommy that meant learning how not to run, and for Buck it was learning not to cling.
Throughout the shift Buck couldn’t help but analyse everybody as they worked, trying to figure out if they knew or not but everybody seemed their usual selves. That was until 10 minutes before end of shift.
Chim calls him upstairs and he arrives at the top to see everybody sitting around the dining table looking at him.
Here it comes.
“Hey, Buck. Can we talk to you for a sec?” Hen says and he recognises that soft tone and look on her face as the ones she gives Denny when she needs to have an important talk with him.
He wants to turn around and walk away; to go back home to his husband who’ll welcome him home with nothing but love. But he knows that walking out will just delay the inevitable—he may as well get this over with.
He walks across and takes a seat at the end of the table, leaning forward, locking his fingers together on the table.
“Okay, come on, tell me.”
They all look at each other, not quite expecting Buck to react to the intervention this way.
“That’s why you’ve asked me here right? To tell me that I’ve done something reckless, I’ve not thought this through, I’ve been too impulsive.. sound about right?”
Eddie pinched the top of his nose and sighed “Jesus Christ, Buck.”
“What, Eddie? Am I making this about again?”
“Come on, Buck. That’s not-“
“That’s not what? The truth? The trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley, right?” He scoffs.
Eddie has the audacity to looked aggrieved that Buck has mentioned that in front of the others. They all turn to Eddie looking for an explanation. Predictably he doesn’t give one.
“Come on, you were being-“
“Justifiably upset that my best friend was leaving again and didn’t tell me himself? Yeah. How shitty of me.”
“For god sake, Buck, you’re-“
Hen interrupts whatever it is that Eddie’s about to say. “We’re not here for that. We’re here because we’re worried about you.”
“Why? Because I’m happy?”
“No, Buck because you got married. To your ex boyfriend.” Chim replies.
“In secret.” Hen adds. “That’s not like you. You tell us everything, even the stuff we don’t want to know. And now you do something so huge and potentially life changing and don’t even talk to us before hand.”
“You were expecting me to ask permission?” He’s trying to sound calm but his tone is tight, giving away his frustration.
Hen sighs exasperated. “No, Buck you don’t need our permission.”
“Why? Because I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions?”
“Nobody is saying you’re not a grown man, Buck.” Chim defends.
“Really? Because all you ever do is treat me like a kid.”
“That’s not true.” Hen says.
“Isn’t it?” Buck scoffs. “Because from where I’m standing all you do is tell me what I should do or think or feel. I can’t make a single decision on my own without any of you telling me that I’m wrong or I’m not thinking it through.” He lets out a cold laugh. “I spent an entire year apart from Tommy because you all said I shouldn’t contact him; that-that he’d made his decision to break up with me and I was being ridiculous for wanting him back. Of course you were happy for me to call him when he was saving your life.” He points to Chimney.
“That’s not fair.” Chim snaps.
And maybe he did have a point—it was about saving his life. And it’s not as though Buck regrets that. For all resentment he feels towards everyone, including Chim, over the last year, he did love him as did Maddie and their kids—he wouldn’t have wanted him to die. But it stung to feel like him needing Tommy back because he loved him wasn’t a good enough reason to gain the support of this so called family.
He’s had enough at this point. He’s indulged their intervention but now was the time to go home. He stands up and politely pushed his chair in.
“I know you all see me as nothing more than a misbehaving puppy that you need to rap on the nose with a newspaper once in a while-“
“Buck-“
Buck holds his hand up to stop Chim from continuing. “But I am not a puppy—I’m a grown man who is more than capable of taking care of himself and making his own decisions. Even ones you don’t agree with; even ones that might turn out to be the wrong ones in the end. And yes marrying Tommy IS impulsive, I’ll give you that, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from Bobbys death is that on any given day any one of us might not make it home and we should hold on to what makes us happy. And Tommy..” he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “He makes me happy. He’s the love of my life. Look, I love you all, you know that, but I’m done being treated as if I’m no more than a probie who can’t think for himself.”
He takes a deep breath. “So, here’s what’s going to happen: if you love me like you say you do and if you have any respect for me you’re going to accept my marriage to Tommy; support our relationship the way to support everybody else’s. And if you can’t do that, or won’t.. then let me know and I’ll file the transfer paperwork straight away. Because I can’t be part of a family anymore that treats me that way.”
Immediately Buck feels the immense weight he’d been carrying on his shoulders for the best part of a year float away. He’d been desperate to speak his mind and tell them all how lonely he felt and why they were the cause. And it was Tommy, since they reconciled 6 weeks ago, who’d lifted him up and made him feel safe enough that he could find the courage to not only take the massive leap into marriage but to stand up to the people he loved.
He looks at his watch then back at the team looking back at him looking a mixture of shocked and guilt ridden. “Shifts over. I’ll see you in 48 hours.”
And with that he hastily makes his way downstairs, down to the locker room to collect his things, out to the truck to drive away and towards the warmest and most loving home he’d ever lived in, with his husband.
Update: after I reblogged this someone messaged me offering me tickets to the sold out Hausu screening with a Q&A and autograph session with the director
Roger, it’s not for me - it’s for my friends — please bring good luck to the folks that I follow on here, they need it far more than I do. Thank you. :)
do you think you could do a gif set that's Buck's speech to Harry about being afraid and giving up on things but it's offset with Tommy in the breakup scene? bc I am having ~Thoughts~
Idea: After a chance meeting at a firefighter bar, Tommy Kinard a guarded Air Ops pilot and Buck, a restless academy recruit, fall into something neither of them saw coming.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11
Buck hesitated just inside the door, the late-morning sun slanting across polished rigs and the gleam of the big red 118 stenciled boldly on the wall. A man in turnout pants and a gray undershirt looked up from a clipboard. Lean frame, dark eyes.
“Hi. This is the 118, right?” Buck asked, turning his gaze away from stencil on the wall.
The man arched one eyebrow. “And you are?”
“Evan Kinard,” he stated offering a professional smile. “New recruit. I was told to report to Captain Nash.”
The man froze, his eyes swept over him as he let out a low whistle. “Kinard, huh?” He glanced back toward the engine and called, “Hey, Hen! You’re not gonna believe the new probie’s last name.”
A laugh drifted out from behind the truck. “What, is it ‘Trouble’?”
“Nope,” the man, Chimney, according to his shirt said, his gaze once more sweeping over Buck like he was a new puzzle. “Kinard. You related to Tommy? Brother? Cousin?”
Buck almost snorted. “No, sir.”
Hen stepped into view, her dark eyes locked onto him and took him in. “You’re kidding.” Her grin was there, but it was assessing. “The brass must be having a laughing.”
Buck tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. No one explained the joke, so he stepped forward and offered his hand. “You’re not Captain Nash, are you?”
Hen wiped her hands on the towel and stepped closer. “Henrietta Wilson,” she said, offering her hand. “Call me Hen.”
Buck shook it, firm, careful not to overdo it. “Evan Kinard. Buck or Kinard, if that’s easier.”
“Buck,” she rolled the nickname off her tongue, her eyebrow raised. “Welcome to the 118.”
“Chimney?” Buck asked, nodding at the guy’s shirt.
Chim grinned. “Classified. Probies don’t get the origin story.”
Hen snorted. “He’s embarrassed.”
“Lies,” Chim fired back.
The banter cut off when footsteps echoed from the upper level. “What do we have down here?” Bobby Nash called out as he headed down the stairs with a coffee mug in hand. Buck straightened; old training kicked in before his brain caught up.
“Probational Firefighter Kinard?" Bobby inquired. His gaze swept over Buck, from boots to slicked-back hair. “Fire Academy Class 312. Solid marks. Two broken records. Instructors had good things to say.” His thumb scrolled. “Navy, six years. Petty Officer Second Class. Logistics and field ops.” Bobby looked up. “That sound right?”
Buck cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”
Bobby nodded and filed it away. He eyed the fresh shine on Buck’s helmet. “You’ll learn fast. Or you’ll burn out. Everyone thinks they’re bulletproof their first month.”
Buck nodded. “Right, understand, Sir.”
Chim whistled under his breath. “Kid looks twelve.”
“Twenty-five,” Buck corrected automatically before he could stop himself.
Hen stepped out from behind the rig, wiped her hands on a towel, her gaze sharp and amused. “Confidence. That’s cute. Don’t lose it. You’ll need it.”
“Looking forward to it, ma’am.”
Hen laughed. “He called me ma’am. Oh, Probie.”
Chim smirked. “Bet he shines his boots, too.”
Buck glanced down. The boots were spotless. Not for show just the kind of habit you never shake once it’s drilled in. “Force of habit.”
Bobby took a sip of coffee and cut off the teasing with a quiet, “Alright, that’s enough. Han, Wilson, show him where to stash his gear.”
As they led him toward the lockers, Hen leaned in just enough to murmur, “You’ll loosen up eventually, Buck. We don’t bite.”
Buck smiled again, all teeth. “Good to know.”
She grinned, already amused by him. “Oh, you’re gonna be fun.”
He set his duffel down and started unpacking, aware of the sideways glances. The kid with the spotless gear. The Navy vet who probably pushed papers. They’d pegged him, cocky and green.
Hen moved like she owned the place. Because she did. Not officially, but Buck figured every firehouse had someone like her; he assumed she’d slipped into Sal’s old spot, the one who kept the gears running smoothly to free up the captain for paperwork.
By nine-thirty, she’d already roped him into helping reorganize the medical bay. “Grab the blue top bins,” she told him and didn’t look up from the trauma kit she restocked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am,” she fired back with a laugh. “Makes me feel like I should be wearing pearls and waiting for a PTA meeting.”
Buck hid his smile and adjusted. “Yes ma’… uh, Hen.”
“That’s better.”
She pointed toward the supply shelf. “Gauze, second row.”
“You ever work under pressure?” Hen asked, half teasing, half testing. “Most probies freeze when it gets real.”
Buck’s hands stilled for half a second over the gauze bin before he made himself smile. “I’ll manage." He caught on to her rhythm quickly. By the fifth request, she stopped checking to see if he’d done it right.
Chim wandered through at one point, a mug of coffee in hand. “Wilson, you breaking in the new kid or breaking his spirit?”
Hen didn’t even glance up. “Why not both?”
Buck grinned, quiet but genuine, and kept stacking supplies.
The morning stayed calm. No tones. No rush. Just the low hum of routine as the firehouse prepared itself for the next emergency. Bobby was somewhere upstairs updating reports. Chim disappeared to the kitchen, and the smell of something fried started to drift through the bay.
By noon, the station smelled like toasted bread. Chim had commandeered the kitchen counter and turned it into a full-blown sandwich bar, rows of deli meat, sliced tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, mustard, and mayo all lined up.
“Lunch is served,” Chim announced, as he brandished a spatula like it was a trophy. “Build your own, don’t touch my bacon.”
Buck wiped his hands and checked the clock. 11:45.
“Go eat,” Hen said and waved him off. “You’ve earned your lunch.”
He nodded, grateful, and slipped into the locker room to grab his lunch. The table was half-claimed when he arrived upstairs. Chim perched with his phone, sandwich in one hand, lecturing to no one in particular about cholesterol. Hen hummed approval as she assembled something double-layered. Bobby was at the coffee bar, stirring milk into his mug as he pretended not to eavesdrop on the crew.
Buck hovered at the edge of the chaos and waited for a gap.
“Probie!” Chim waved him forward. “Get in here before Hen steals all the good bread.”
“No need, I actually brought my own.” He set his lunch down on the corner of the counter. The container Tommy had packed that morning while he brushed his teeth. The sight that greeted him made something warm unfurl in his chest: a chicken shawarma, roasted vegetables, and lemon rice. Next to it, a small bag of kettle chips and a cookie wrapped in wax paper. And, tucked into the side pocket, his Bubbl’r water with a post-it stuck to the side.
Eat. Hydrate. Breathe.
Come home to me.
Buck’s mouth went dry. He peeled it off fast and shoved it into his pocket.
Chim peered over. “Damn, Kinard, you brought real food.”
Buck shrugged. “Leftovers.”
Hen leaned in. “That’s not take-out, that’s love in a container.”
Buck felt heat crawl up his neck. “Roommate likes to cook.” “Roommate, huh?”
“Roommate, huh?” Hen quirked an eyebrow.
Chim laughed. “Shit, your girlfriend’s got you eating better than we do. Look at this. Tell her she’s got a future in catering, smells amazing.”
Buck snorted softly and ducked his head so they didn’t see the grin he couldn’t quite suppress. He slid into an empty seat, unwrapped the shawarma, and checked his phone. There was already a text waiting.
You alive?
Buck’s fingers moved before he could stop them.
Barely. Hen’s got me reorganizing half the medical bay.
Three dots appeared, then vanished, then reappeared.
She likes you then. If she didn’t, you’d be mopping the floor with a toothbrush.
Buck grinned, took a bite of his lunch, and typed back one-handed.
Lunch was perfect. I was expecting stir-fry.
I thought for your first day, you deserve a pick-me-up.
There was a long pause, then a photo came through. Tommy, in his flight suit.
Buck just stared. The picture wasn’t even risqué, but something about the cut of the collar and the way his sleeves were rolled, zipper half undone, headset slung loose around his neck. He felt seventeen again, like the first time Zen had shoved a nudie photo into his hands and laughed at how fast he turned red.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, grinning helplessly as he shoved his phone into his pocket before one of his new crewmates could see.
The alarms sounded mid-afternoon and shattered the calm of the house, boots pounded, lockers slammed, a well-rehearsed scramble of bodies. He fell into step behind Chim and Hen, gear secured. A small apartment fire. Two-story residential.
“Ride with me, Kinard,” Bobby ordered, sliding into the passenger seat. His eyes met Buck’s for a beat too long. He’d seen plenty of rookies freeze when the smoke turned real. Better to find the fault line now, in daylight, with backup close, to know exactly how much ground they’d need to cover with the kid. “Stay close, do what you’re told, nothing heroic.”
“Yes, sir.” He meant it.
The engine tore down the street, sirens wailing as wind whipped through the open windows. Buck’s heart settled into calm, not from fear, but from the old, familiar thrum of action. Chim’s voice cut through the noise from the back seat and ran through hydrant placement and entry points.
They turned the corner, and the smoke came into view, a thick, gray twist from a second-story window. Bobby was already on the radio. “Dispatch, 118 on scene, two-story residential, heavy smoke showing from the north-east side.”
Hen jumped out started pulling a line. Buck followed without hesitation, grabbed the irons, and moved toward the porch.
His gear felt heavier, a new kind of mission, no targets, just innocent souls needing rescued.
A woman stood in the yard and sobbed. “My husband… second floor, bedroom!”
“Ma’am, stay here,” Bobby said and guided her toward the ambulance. He turned to Buck. “You’re with me. Weston, get water on it. Han check her out.”
The heat was a physical blow and pressed in, alive and hungry. Buck dropped to a knee, his glove trailed the wall as he counted steps, his breath a steady, rasping sound in his mask. Above them, the fire crackled and wood popped.
“Bedroom’s left,” Bobby said, his voice muffled by his mask.
“Copy.”
Buck pushed the door open. Smoke billowed out, the room was a vision of hell, the bed frame half swallowed by collapse, flames licked at the curtains. A man stirred on the floor near the bed.
“Got him!” Buck shouted. Three strides and he was there. The man sagged against him, coughing, half-limp. Buck hauled him up, every muscle in his back flaring under the strain.
Glass shattered behind them, the window finally gave way. As the shards settled, he tightened his grip and carried the man into the hall. “We’re clear!” he shouted.
Bobby materialized from the haze and wordlessly took the man’s other side. Together, they hauled him down the stairs and out into the clean air.
Chimney and Hen took over as they put the man on the awaiting gurney. Hen's gaze found Buck, giving him a long, measuring look that held a new kind of respect.
“Not bad, Probie,” she said. “You didn’t even trip over your own hose.”
Buck pulled off his helmet, his chest heaved as he a few greedy breaths. “I read the manual.”
Chimney barked a laugh as he hooked the man up to a monitor. “Cocky and literate. We might keep you.”
Buck offered a faint, weary smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
The shower water ran dirty for nearly three minutes before it cleared. Buck leaned into the tile and let the sting of heat sooth his scars. First fire down. No fatalities. No mistakes. He replayed every move, every order. It was clean. Textbook.
But as he pulled on a fresh shirt, the echo of Hen’s voice in the bay drifted back, the words he wasn’t meant to hear as he’d approached the lockers.
“He’s got that Navy swagger and charm. Bet he’ll learn humility fast.”
Chim’s laugh followed. “Give him time. A good callus needs friction.”
They weren’t cruel, just sure of their read. They’d seen his type before and were already waiting for him to prove them right.
In the kitchen, the crew was already eating. Bobby nodded toward the empty chair as he passed Buck a plate of lasagna. “Good work today, Kinard.”
Buck nodded back. “Thank you, sir.”
Hen smirked around a mouthful of garlic bread. “Careful, Cap. Compliment him too much and he’ll start thinking he’s special.”
Buck shot her the grin, all teeth and bravado. “Already do.”
The laughter that followed was easy, filling the space just long enough before Bobby’s voice cut back in, quieter this time as he set his report aside. “You stayed calm. That’s rare for a first call.”
Buck nodded again. “Thank you, sir.” “
Just remember, sometimes the hardest part is waiting for permission to act.” Bobby’s gave him a long look, tone firm. “We don’t need cowboys at the 118.”
Buck managed another nod, his molars tight. “Understood.”
He’d spent years in a world where acting alone got people killed. Where every move depended on trust, precision, and the man beside you. He could still see Zen breaking formation to save that kid and how that act had cost them Ghost.
By the end of his first shift, exhaustion had carved itself into his scars. He stood by his locker, duffel packed, and watched Chim and Hen head out, their easy goodbyes a ritual he hadn’t learned yet. The house felt suddenly too quiet, the space between him and the crew vast and un-crossed.
He dropped into the booth at the bar with a groan.
Sal looked up from his phone. “Fuck, kid, you look like you’ve been dragged through hell.”
“First shift,” Tommy grunted, sliding a beer his way. His eyes asked the real question as he tilted his head, taking him in.
Buck huffed a humorless laugh. “They think I’m reckless. Cocky.” He lifted the bottle and took a slow drink. “Doesn’t fucking matter.”
Tommy studied him. “You followed orders?”
“Every one.”
“Then you did your job.”
Buck shook his head, staring at the condensation on the glass. “They see some twenty-four-year-old trying to prove something.” He finally met Tommy’s gaze, letting the blue in them pull the truth from him. “I did everything right, and the only thing that stuck was ‘swagger.’”
Gina nudged the chips and salsa closer to him. “Then you prove them wrong by showing up for your next shift, and the one after that.”
Buck looked at her, then the guys. He nodded slowly, the fight seeping back into his bones. “Yeah. Guess I will.”
Sal grinned and slapped his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Attaboy, Buckley.”
Tommy’s smirk softened, his hand coming to rest under the table on Buck’s knee. “What was the call?”
Buck hesitated, looking between Sal and Tommy. “Apartment fire. Two-story. Entrapment on the second floor. We ended the shift with a car accident near the station.”
Sal’s grin vanished. “And you went in?”
“Yeah. With the captain. It was his order.”
The table went quiet.
“You’re telling me Nash sent a probie into structure on his first day?” Sal asked, voice rising.
Mickey let out a low whistle. “What the hell happened to watching from the lawn?”
Buck frowned, glancing around the table, confused. “It wasn’t like that. He was right there. It was controlled.”
“Controlled?” Sal barked. “You could’ve gotten roasted alive, kid.”
Gina reached out, putting a hand on Sal’s wrist. “Sal.”
“What?” he snapped, cutting his gaze to his wife. “You don’t throw a probie into smoke their first shift. That’s basic. You give them hydrants, supplies, and shadow time.”
Tommy hadn’t said a word, just watched Buck before speaking, calm and certain. “He expected you to flinch.”
Buck blinked. “What?”
Tommy’s tone stayed even. “Bobby wanted to see how you’d react. He figured better to find your weak spots on his terms.” He took a long drink, eyes still on Buck. “He underestimated you.”
Sal muttered something in Italian under his breath, sitting back hard. “That’s bullshit. A captain’s job is to teach, not test.”
“Sal,” Gina warned again, but even she didn’t sound convinced.
Buck rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping back in. “It’s fine. Really. It went fine. Textbook.”
Tommy leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You’re not fine. You’re sitting here trying to convince us you’re okay with a test you never should’ve had to take.”
Buck met his eyes. “I passed it anyways.”
Sal exhaled, frustration giving way. “Yeah, you did, kid. Still doesn’t make it right.”
Gina reached over, resting her hand briefly on Buck’s arm. “How’s your back?”
Buck blinked, caught off guard by the question. “It’s fine,” he lied, straightening a little.
“Uh-huh.” She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe a word of it but let it go. “At least tell me you stretched after, unlike these yayhoos.”
Tommy’s hand squeezed Buck’s knee under the table. Buck didn’t move, but the tension in his shoulders eased.
Mickey lifted his beer in a small toast. “To surviving day one.”
Buck snorted, clinking his bottle against Mickey’s. “To shift two.”
Sal was still scowling into his beer.
“Sal,” Gina said again, softer this time, the warning gone. She reached over and laced her fingers with her husband’s until the fight leaked out of him.
Tommy hadn’t taken his eyes off Buck once. Not possessive, just… cataloguing. The faint red line on Buck’s neck where the collar of his turnouts had rubbed raw. The tremor in the hand that wasn’t holding the beer. The way he kept rolling that left shoulder.
Buck finally looked up. “I’m okay,” he said, low, meant only for Tommy.
The table pretended not to hear. Mickey started telling a loud, filthy story about a harbor rescue involving a naked yacht owner. Sal barked the laugh he’d been holding back.
Under the cover of the noise, Tommy leaned in until his lips almost brushed Buck’s ear. “Come home with me tonight.”
Buck’s breath hitched. Not a question of if he wanted to; they both knew the answer.
Tommy’s hand found the back of his neck, thumb pressing firm into the knot just below his hairline. A silent promise: I’ll work that out later. All of it. Buck exhaled like someone had just pulled him out of the water.
Buck is so used to not being taken seriously that he lied to Ravi instead of just inviting him, and Ravi was so completely unsurprised that I don't think it's the first time this happened.
And what's even sadder is that Ravi probably would've shown up anyway, because he's willing to go along with shit if it makes Buck feel better.
