Imagine the 118 are still being iify about Bobby's cooking since he's passed, that nobody really wants to eat Buck's cooking, and it really hurts him. Like it's the only thing Buck can do to keep his memory, and something that he and Bobby used to do.
He's trying his best to cope, and cooking and baking help. He doesn't want to upset the others, and if they don't need Buck to cook, then he's not going to bother. It breaks his heart, and the other firefighters in the 118 look put out.
He's scrolling through social media, until a post on his Facebook pops up. Someone is asking for help at a soup kitchen; the person who used to help is no longer available, and they really need it. It's for a good cause.
Something bubbles up in Buck. A need.
So Buck messages the woman, who readily accepts Buck's help. He's had experience cooking in mass quantities, thanks to Bobby needing his help in the kitchen so he can feed the other firefighters.
Buck meets the people running the soup kitchen. He greets everyone, gets handed an apron, and is immediately sent to the kitchen to help prep.
He goes there often when they need help. He doesn't have anything going on right now. Nobody to spend time with and a house that feels too lonely. Coming here brings a smile to his face. He chatters with everyone, goes around to the homeless, and chatters with the old folk. They love his company.
He loves watching everyone eat and enjoy the food. Even though he didn't cook all of it.
"How have you been, sweetie?" Buck hears something suddenly. He jumps a little as he turns to see one of the ladies who runs the place. A very old lady in her eighties, small but still standing tall and strong.
"Oh, I'm doing alright. Thank you for letting me come in and help all the time."
"Hm. You know, in all my years, you and one other man were the only ones to thank me, when it should be the other way around."
Buck ducks his head down.
"You and your father are a lot alike."
Buck freezes. Confused, he looks over at her. "Uh, what do you mean?"
She smiles and waves for him to follow her. She leads him to a hallway, the front entrance that the others use, while volunteers enter through the back. So he really never saw the hallways. It was filled with pictures of people, mayors, police, etc., who came out and helped. The soup kitchen came out during the Tsunami to help feed displaced people.
She takes him to one of the biggest contributors to her soup kitchen.
"Your dad spoke of you a lot. Showed pictures, so we recognized you right away."
"Oh yes. He's helped us a lot for so many years. We were so heartbroken upon hearing the devastating news. I'm so sorry you lost your daddy," she says so softly. The hand is rubbing his back as he sobs.
He didn't know when he started crying. Perhaps it was seeing a photo of Bobby again, smiling. Smiling while in the kitchen.
Maybe it was the woman's gentle hand, and calling Bobby his dad.
Maybe it was because Bobby spoke about Buck a lot.
"I miss him so much," he says, as he's gathered in a hug. As small as the lady was, she gave a tight hug.
"I know, dearie. It'll be alright. You're making him so proud right now. You came here as if it were meant to be."
Buck sniffs, wiping his eyes, and beams a smile at her.
"Now, do you think you are able to make your dad's chili? Your dad always made a big pot once a month. A lot of our patrons here miss it."
"Yes!" Buck says. "I know exactly how to make it."
"Oh, perfect! Come along now, sweetie, let's get to work."
theartofmadeline
titsay
2087
tangentwithtanner
