Between the calls, the pranks, and the family style dinners, it felt like home.
But for the past six months, there'd been this thing,this secret thing,that made everything ten times more exciting.
You and Buck.
Nobody knew.
Not Eddie, not Chimney, definitely not Hen.
Hen side eyed you sometimes when you laughed too hard at Buck's jokes, and Chim had made a comment last week about how "cozy" you two looked cleaning the truck together.
But they didn't know know.
Which is exactly how you wanted it.
For now at least.
The night before had been a little annoying, though. Buck was supposed to come over,he'd texted "omw to yours, stopped at Eddie's first" and then... nothing.
You called him, texted him and yet nothing, so you called the only person that might know where is he...Eddie.
"Oh, hey," Eddie had answered, sounding half asleep himself.
"Yeah, Buck crashed here. I tried to wake him up but he didn't woke up. Don't worry, he's fine."
You'd hung up feeling silly for worrying, but not too worried. Buck was safe.
So you didn't text him in the morning.
You knew you'd see him at the station in a couple hours anyway. You both still kinda new in the relationship, so you don't want to be annoying, even though you are not really.
Buck woke up with his face mashed into Eddie's couch cushion, completely disoriented.
Where the hell...
Oh. Right. Eddie's place. He vaguely remembered sitting down "for just a minute" after telling you he was on his way. Then nothing.
Your place. Shit.
He fumbled for his phone, squinting at the screen. Missed calls from you,texts. His stomach dropped.
Oh no. Oh no, she's gonna kill me.
He'd told you he was coming over. Promised, even. And then he'd just... fallen asleep? Without texting? He scrolled through his messages.
You hadn't said anything this morning. No "good morning," no "where were you," nothing.
She's mad, he thought, while getting up from the couch. She's definitely mad.
You were in the kitchen area when he walked in, and honestly? It was unfair how good he looked in that uniform.
The navy blue fitting just right across his shoulders, that stupid charming smile he wore when he walked in and saw Hen and Chimney talking.
He caught your eye for like half a second, then looked away quickly.
Weird, you thought, stirring your coffee. Why he's acting weird.
You chatted with Eddie about some movie he'd watched with Christopher, laughed at Chim's terrible joke, all while keeping one eye on Buck. He kept hovering near the group, looking like he wanted to say something but losing his nerve every time someone else walked by.
Finally, when Hen anf Chim walked away toward the office, Buck made his move.
You were reaching for a clean mug when he sidled up next to you.
"Y/n," he said quietly, not looking at you. "Come with me for a sec?"
You followed him without question, confused with his behavior, he led you to the locker room, around the corner where the benches curved out of sight from the main area.
He turned to you, and his expression was so genuinely apologetic that you almost laughed.
"Hey babe," he said, voice low. "I'm sorry for all the missed calls. I totally passed out at Eddie's,I didn't even mean to."
You smiled, setting your coffee down on the bench. "Buck, it's fine. Eddie told me what happened. I wasn't mad."
He blinked. "You weren't?"
"No? Why would I be mad? You fell asleep, you didn't ghost me on purpose."
"I just... I told you I was coming over, and then I didn't, and you didn't text this morning, so I thought..." He ran a hand through his hair, that adorable confused look on his face. "I thought maybe you were done with me or something."
You stared at him. "Buck. We've been dating for six months. I'm not breaking up with you because you took an accidental nap."
He exhaled, shoulders dropping. "Okay. Okay, good. Because I really like you. Like, really like you."
Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing it always did when he got sincere like this. "I really like you too, dummy."
He grinned then, that slow, confident Buck smile that had probably broken a thousand hearts before yours.
He stepped closer, and you stepped back, hitting the cool metal of the lockers.
Oh.
He'd trapped you there, one arm braced against the locker beside your head, the other resting on his hip.
Close enough that you could smell his cologne, see the little flecks of gold in his blue eyes.
"Buck," you whispered, glancing toward the open doorway. "Someone could come in."
"Then we shouldn't get caught," he murmured, leaning in.
His mouth was on yours before you could protest, and honestly? You didn't want to. Six months in and his kisses still made your knees weak,hot and confident and just a little bit desperate, like he couldn't get enough of you.
You melted into it, hands finding his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the uniform fabric. He pressed closer, pinning you against the locker, and you felt the metal dig into your back but couldn't bring yourself to care.
God, he felt good.
He started to get a little carried away,his hand sliding down to your waist, gripping tight, mouth trailing down your jaw toward your neck and you had to physically push him back, breathless.
"Buck," you laughed, pressing a hand to his chest. "We're at work, at the fire station."
He groaned, resting his forehead against yours. "I know. I know, you're right." He pulled back just enough to look at you. "But tonight? After shift? You're coming to my place. Or my car. I don't even care. I just need to finish this."
You felt your face heat up. "Your place sounds better than your car."
"Deal." He kissed you again, quick and hard, before pushing off the locker and straightening his uniform. "Now I have to go pretend I wasn't just making out with my secret girlfriend in the locker room."
"Go," you said, shooing him. "I'll see you out there."
He walked backward a few steps, grinning. "You're not mad at me anymore?"
"I was never mad at you, Buckley."
"Good." He winked. "See you later, babe."
You watched him go, leaning back against the locker and touching your lips, still tingling from his mouth.
Across the station, Buck grabbed his gear, heart pounding for a completely different reason now. He caught Eddie looking at him funny and just shrugged, playing it cool.
But inside?
Inside, he was already counting down the hours until he could have you all to himself.
Tonight, he thought, stealing one last glance toward the locker room where you were probably fixing your hair. Tonight, I'm not falling asleep anywhere except next to her.
My first 911 ff lol.
My mom introduced me to this series a few months ago even though i heard about it when it came out🙌
warnings: fluffffff just a bunch of fluff, semi-edited
was listening to go go juice by sabrina carpenter again and this came to me in a vision so it's a quick lil thing (except it's 2k+ words whoops). had to get this out before i get back to the requests in my inbox :) hope ya enjoy <3
word count: 2.1k
masterlist
In retrospect, you should’ve let Athena or Hen take your phone. You were known in the group to call people when you were drunk – nothing too crazy, you just loved all the people in your life and felt an overwhelming need to let them know how much you loved them when you had a few too many drinks in your system.
But, things were different. This was the first time you’ve drank more than you should since Buck and you started–secretly–hooking up a couple of months ago. You and him were hanging out one night at his new house, his first guest over. You volunteered to help him unpack and the night had ended with you two settling on his new couch and watching the moving When Harry Met Sally.
“Do you think that’s true?” He’d asked you, frowning at Harry and Sally saying they weren’t going to be friends.
“What?” You said, mouth full.
“Girls and guys can’t be friends?” He looked over at you as you laughed lightly, wiping your mouth with your napkin before shrugging at him.
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Or are you trying to tell me that you used me to help you unpack and now you’re kicking me to the curb?”
“Shut up,” he says, no venom behind the words as he nudged you with his shoulder.
“Or are you saying you’re not attracted to me?” You joked, side-eyeing him.
“Well, that’d just be a lie,” he let out easily, almost like he didn’t even think about it before he said it. Which he didn’t. He ignored the heat in his face as his words registered for both of you. “Besides, Harry said it doesn’t matter if he’s attracted to them.”
“Woah, woah,” you said, smiling wide as he groaned and let his head fall back against the couch. “Did you just say you’re attracted to me?”
“Please, can we not do this?”
“Evan Buckley, you want to kiss me, you want to hug me, you want to love me,” you sang, quoting another movie you two had just watched a couple of days ago.
“Shut up,” he whined, his head still resting against the couch but pivoting so he was looking at you, not able to stop his smile from matching yours.
“Make me,” you teased, continuing in your sing-songing voice. And Buck took it as a challenge, lightly shoving you backwards and hovering over you. It was enough to shut you up for sure, and enough to make you feel like your whole body is on fire.
“I win,” he mumbles, his eyes briefly settling on your mouth, opened slightly from the gasp you let out when you fell backward.
You barely got out a “you win,” before his mouth was on yours and your fingers found warmth in his curls.
That was almost four months ago. You two decided not to tell anyone because you were afraid that it would disrupt the dynamic in the group. Plus, you two weren’t dating; it was just sex. Which you two agreed would be the easiest way to approach this: no strings, anyone can call it off whenever for whatever reason with no questions asked, you two would be friends afterward.
Except you hadn’t taken into account how affectionate Buck could be while being intimate.
It started with the compliments turning more loose. Then came the casual touches that you thought he wasn’t even aware he was doing–he’d reach for your hand on the couch while you hung out or place his hand on your thigh when you all went to drinks or dinner, hand on the small of your back when he was guiding you or just wanted to move you closer to him, innocently and casually tucking your hair behind your ear mid conversation. He’d conditioned you to stop trying to leave immediately after sex, tucking you back into his chest and pleading for you to just give him five minutes that turned into you just spending the night.
So, yeah. It was hard not to start falling in love with your best friend. Which was getting increasingly harder to hide, especially while under the influence. You still have the wherewithal to not call Buck so you don’t out yourselves to anyone, but your texts aren’t much better.
You: youre so prettyyyyyy
Buck’s settling in for the night when he gets your text. He’s walking out of his bathroom, fresh out of the shower when he hears the chime of his phone. He prays it isn’t anyone inviting him out at the last minute – he’s hoping you’ll be up to come spend the night with him after your girls night. He’s hoping he’ll hear from you, letting him know you got home and he’ll invite himself over under the pretense of tending to your hangover when, in reality, he just wants an excuse to be near you, sleep next to you. He hasn’t seen you in almost five days and he’s starting to feel a little antsy.
Unlike you, Buck already knew he was in love with you, long before you two started hooking up. When he’d asked you that question when you two watched Harry and Sally fall in love, he was trying to gauge where you fell. Him kissing you that night was totally by happenstance, and when you initiated more he felt like he’d crossed into heaven.
But then you proposed the whole friends with benefits thing. Buck agreed on a whim, mostly because you’d proposed it the next morning while your lips trailed from his chest back up to his mouth and he couldn't think straight, then he kept it going because at least he had some part of you. But now he was sure it was more, if the way you looked at him when he acted like a boyfriend said anything. He figured he would ease you into it. You two still hung out with friends, but now it came with more affectionate benefits. A kiss hello, cuddling with or without sex, convincing you to spend the night afterward, suggesting you leave stuff at his place out of convenience, and not because he enjoyed seeing reminders of you in his home.
Buck smiles when he sees your text, immediately opening the thread to text you back.
Buck: How do you know? You haven’t seen me
You: youre alwaysssss pretty
Buck: Always?
Buck: You must have had quite a few to drink tonight, baby
You: yes i have
You: youre still pretty
You: call me baby again
You: pls <3
Buck: Can I see you tonight, baby?
Buck drafts another text, a joke about him just wanting to come over to make sure you’re okay, a joke to play it off as casual. But then he decides maybe it’s time to be a little more honest with you, and he finds it’s much easier to admit this when he knows you probably won’t remember this interaction in the morning.
Buck: Just miss you
You: on my way to the house
You: let you know when im there :)
You: miss you too <3
Almost 40 minutes later, Buck’s ready to call Hen or Athena to make sure you’re all okay, and then there’s a knock on his door. He checks the peephole, smiling when he sees you on the other side of the door.
“Hey,” he greets you softly, accepting the hug you practically almost tackle him in. He has one arm wrapped around your waist and the other extended to grab your bag from Hen. The confusion finally catches up to him as your arms tighten around his neck. “Why’d you guys bring her here?”
“Because,” Hen says, a smirk on her face, “she kept saying she wanted us to take her to her boyfriend.”
“Yeah, took us a little bit to get her phone unlocked to find out who she was talking about,” Athena finishes, a matching, smug look on her face. Buck flushes a little at the title, liking entirely too much that you called him your boyfriend.
“Oh,” is all he gets out before you’re pulling away just enough to look at him, and he’s confused when he sees a light sheen in your eye, like you were crying or might start to.
“I just missed you, Buck,” you whine, leaning in to kiss him under his jaw, “are you mad?” He can feel your pout as you pepper more kisses on any exposed skin you can find, and it makes him tighten his arm around you.
“Course not, baby,” he mumbles, turning his head to kiss the top of yours. “Missed you, too.” He takes a step back, giving Athena and Hen a nod. “Thanks, we’ll see you tomorrow for brunch,” he promises Athena, inching further into his house as best as he can without tripping with you clung to him.
“Be ready for our interrogation, Buckley,” Hen says, shaking her head despite the wide smile on her face. "And don't think we're keeping this to ourselves. We've got a bet going." He rolls his eyes, waving them away before closing and locking his front door.
“Time for bed?” You question, your voice dropping to a whisper as the weight of exhaustion starts to settle deep in your bones. Buck smiles, bending to scoop you up in a bridal carry to take you to his bathroom to get you cleaned up before bed.
“Time for bed,” he mumbles.
The next morning you’re woken up by the smell of fresh coffee, strong. Your eyes adjust to the semi-sun soaked room, immediately knowing you’re waking up in Buck’s bed from the smell of his detergent. You stretch, letting out a soft groan as the ache in your shoulders burns a little, your brain doing a similar stretch as you try to remember how you went from hanging out with Hen and Athena to Buck’s bed.
Had he met you guys while out? Did you ask him to go get you? Did you take a car to his place instead of your own? How embarrassing, you think. Talk about clingy.
“Well, look who’s up.” You open your eyes again at the sound of Buck’s voice, sitting up a little as you watch him walk in with two cups of coffee. “Morning, baby,” he mumbles, leaning down to place a kiss on top of your head. Your brain latches onto the pet name, your stomach fluttering at the vague memory of him calling you that last night. “You feeling okay?”
“Morning, yeah,” you say, smiling up at him, moving your legs so you’re sitting cross-legged to make room for him. He sits next to you, wearing a smile that matches yours – soft, warm, familiar. You lean away from him when he leans in for a kiss, making him freeze. “Morning breath,” you explain, shaking your head.
“Don’t care about that,” he responds, a hand coming up to lightly grab your chin and bring you in for a quick peck. “What kind of boyfriend cares about that?” He teases, giving you another peck before letting you go and pulling away.
“Boyfriend?” You squeak out, watching him take a casual sip of his coffee. “When did you promote yourself?” You ask, trying to come off as light and jokey, but you’re sure the heat in your face gives you away. You pick your coffee cup out of his hands, taking a big swig to hide yourself.
“You promoted me last night, when you told Athena and Hen to drop you off at your boyfriend’s place,” he smirks, watching as you splutter a little, coughing up the coffee you just almost inhaled.
“Oh, God,” you moan, a hand coming up to cover your face. “Did I really? I’m sorry.”
“For what?” You uncover your face to see him smiling at you, no trace of teasing you there. No sense that he’s mocking you. “I gladly accept the promotion.”
“You… yeah?” You ask quietly, placing your mug on his nightstand next to you. “You want to be my boyfriend, Buckley?”
“Desperately,” he breathes out, leaning forward to tuck your hair behind your ear. “If you want me.”
“I want you,” you say almost immediately, and you don’t have time to feel embarrassed about how quickly you answered him because he’s leaning in to kiss you again, more than just a peck this time.
“How mad do you think Bobby and Athena will be if we’re late to brunch?” He mumbles against your mouth, leaning in to force you to lay down, his body caging yours.
“I think Athena and Hen will be disappointed they have to wait longer for answers,” you tease, smiling as his lips ghost over your throat.
“Hm,” he hums, gently scraping his teeth against your skin, smirking when he feels you shiver underneath him. “Worth it.”
summary: Pathological People Pleaser- capital P. That’s you. Life is a helluva lot easier when no one can hurt you- not if you never give anyone substantial pieces of yourself. Too bad Evan “Buck” Buckley takes issue with this.
cw: reader is a grade A pathological people pleaser so all the angst and issues that come with that, canon-typical gore/violence (they are firefighters/paramedics)
tags/tropes: coworkers to lovers (hr HATES these two) bobby knowing everything about these two but letting them work it out anyway, team as a family, BUCK IS BOBBY’S KID IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS, also Buck being really sweet and nice (and reader having no idea what to do with this)
a/n: tbh this reader is really just a girl. this fic is extremely inspired by Love Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood, which, my dear followers, if you'll recall, is my favorite romance book ever (!!!!!) also no one say reader isn't realistic bc i based her internal dialogue and worries off of my real life experiences as a recovered people pleaser (there is hope for us)
credit to @bookshelf-dust for the in house arson investigator idea !! super brilliant and perfect !! go read their stuff !!
title taken from Goddess from Laufey!
──────────────────────
‘Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?
Cause they see right through me//Can you see right through me?
-The Archer, Taylor Swift
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₊˚⊹♡
Firefighter Evan “Buck” Buckley confuses you.
You’ve only been with the 118 for about two months. You’d be lying if you said the action and excitement of actually working with the firefighters on calls didn’t excite you to come to work— something you thought you’d never say.
And the team is great. You were nervous as hell at first. Suddenly being out on calls is exciting now, but scary as shit at first. You were much too used to your boring desk job. Plus, the firefighters were all intimidating in their own ways- Hen and Bobby the most.
Hen, because you totally look up to her and admire her ability to just… do whatever and say whatever and not worry what other people think. She holds her head high, and you’re more than a little envious.
Bobby, because he’s your captain, and you need to prove your worth as an addition to the team.
Slowly but surely, you began to solidify your presence as a team member. You aren’t sensitive to the blood and gore they see on calls which definitely won you points with Hen and Chimney, and you aren’t a pushover- you’re willing to put your foot down when push comes to shove. Plus, not to brag, but you’re damn good at your job.
After a month, you’d gotten everything down pat. What’s the right thing to say, what isn’t the right thing to say. What to do so the team trusts you, what to do so they don’t ask too many questions, how to correctly come across to them as a capable person. How to seem normal and well-adjusted and fine. What normal looks like to them.
With the exception of Evan Buckley.
You just… can’t get a read on him. Ever. He’s nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive, like seriously, it’s not even fair) but no one is that nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive.)
You don’t like talking to him because he’s been more than a little sweet on you since day one. And obviously it's not serious and he doesn't mean it, just friendly camaraderie, but. But but but but but. It catches you off guard without fail every single time. Because every single time you talk to him, you get the very distinct sense that he’s looking right though you. That when you’re talking to the rest of the team, perfect smile in place, he can see through you.
It’s more than a little unnerving. It leaves you unsteady and wrong-footed. Like you’re never sure what exactly to say or how to act.
So you mostly just avoid him. You’re thankful that you’re only the arson investigator, because if you’d actually been a real firefighter, avoiding him would be a million times harder. As it stands, it’s fairly easy to do it without being obvious.
Or so you think.
“Is something wrong Captain Nash?” You ask, shutting the door behind you in his office.
Bobby rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you to just call me Bobby.”
“I think the second I do, my parents will appear in the room and lecture me about respect and manners.”
You sit as he gestures, watching with almost perfectly concealed apprehension as he laces his fingers.
“Did Buck say something to you?”
What.
“What?”
“Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby clarifies, as if that was the part of the question that needed specification. “I’ve noticed that you tend to avoid him when possible. You’re good at it, I’ll give you that. No one else has noticed.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks at the admission of being caught.
“How could you tell?” You ask instead of answering his question.
Bobby just shrugs. “I have three kids. This isn’t my first rodeo. Now, you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?”
You’re not really sure you can explain this to him without one, sounding like a crazy person, and two, having him lose all the respect you’ve worked hard to build with him.
You settle for the super abridged version.
“Buck… makes me nervous. I’ve had some bad experiences with men that acted like him before, so. I’m over it, of course, I’m fine he just… sets me on edge a little. I’m not like, afraid of him or anything.”
You are actually afraid of him a little. Because if he really does see through you then what’s stopping him from ripping the current back? Giving everyone a good look into your ugly and raw? What’s stopping him from leaving you exposed?
Bobby hums, contemplating.
“You don’t trust him.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” You rush to amend, heart starting to race. Fix it fix it fix it fix it— “I do trust him. I know he’d never hurt me, or anyone else for that matter, he’s a great guy—“
Bobby leans back in his seat. “He’s a genuinely nice guy, and you don’t know how to deal with that, so you avoid him. You don’t trust that he’s genuine.”
Too close too close too close too close—
Smile. Laugh. Look down for a few seconds. Raise head, hold eye-contact. Speak.
“Nothing like that,” Smile. “Just takes some time for a girl to get used to all the facts that tend to come with him. I could’ve done without the one about heart worms before lunch.”
Laugh.
“Oh, you have no idea. Imagine being present when he actually got to assist on a tapeworm removal. I was put off noodles entirely for months.”
Now Bobby laughs, a real one, so you laugh with him, and you feel a little safer, the conversation back in your control.
“I promise, there’s nothing between me and Buck. Just new-girl nerves.”
Flash a smile, appease the man.
“If that’s all, then you’re free to go. Keep up the good work.”
You stand, one hand on the edge of the armrest of the chair to hide the minute tremors in your hand. You hold your breath as you leave Bobby’s office, breathing tiny, quick breaths through your nose until you make it to the safety of your office, closing the door behind you and all but collapsing into your chair.
That was… close. You must’ve let your guard down around Bobby. His personality and dad-aura are so disarming. You hadn’t even realized he’d been watching you that close. He read you a little too easily and a little too quickly. That was too close. What if he had—
A knock on your door snaps you ramrod straight, posture perfect and easy expression snapped into place in seconds.
It takes everything in you not to deflate when you see who walks through the door.
“Buck?”
“Sorry, sorry,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, “I know you don’t like me in here, I’ll be quick. I just need that file from that warehouse fire case?”
You frown as you search your filing cabinet for the case file. “I’ve never said I didn’t like you in here.”
“Yeah, not as much as said as implied.”
“I don’t mind you in here. It’s just an office.”
You’re not sure what he wants you to say. Does he want you to agree with him, tell him you don’t want him in here, make him right? Does he want you to tell him that he’s welcome in your office?
What does he want?
He shrugs in the corner of your eye, hands in his pockets, and you honestly have to physically restrain yourself from staring at the muscles of his arms as they move and tense with the motion. It’s very conflicting: him being the unending source of the late-night fantasies you pretend not to indulge in to fall asleep, hugging a pillow, and the fact that he’s the reason you’ve considered going on anxiety medication.
“…Are you okay?”
You’re abruptly reminded that he’s still in your office and you’re still having a conversation and your grip has at some point turned crushing on the case file.
“Oh, yeah,” Smile, look down, laugh. Look up(?) “Long night last night. Didn’t get much sleep.”
He cocks his head, the action reminiscent of a dog. He really is a golden retriever. You should really stop thinking about Buck so much.
“I thought you went home early last night?”
Your smile wavers.
Laugh(?) put the case file down. Take a sip of coffee, smile(?)
“You know how it is. Work never quite ends at work.”
He doesn’t skip a beat before speaking.
“Why do you do that?”
Something cold starts to drip down your neck. An icy chill of dread.
“Do what?”
“That lying thing.”
Smile? Laugh? Sit down?
Your other hand comes up to cup your coffee. “As far as I know, I don’t have a lying thing.” You huff a breathy laugh, but it comes out wrong. More wheezing and choked than a laugh.
He leans back against the wall of your office, crossing his arms. “Yeah you do. Like, sure, maybe you did have a late night, but none of those expressions or smiles were real. You like, lie with your face.”
You feel cold and hot at the same time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you want this case file?”
“No, you know what I’m talking about. Is it conscious? Is it like code-switching? Nah, this is too—“
“Buck!” You snap, skin crawling, “Would you please just take this file and go?”
He snaps his fingers, pointing at you. “There! That’s real. That was a real expression.”
You forcibly smooth your face out, trying to project the calm you don’t feel. “Me getting annoyed with you?”
“Yeah,” He chuckles a little, a small smile on his face. “Just for a second, you looked real.”
You blink. Pause. Turn his words over in your head.
“You don’t really need this case file, do you?”
“Nope.”
You set the mug down, ignoring the way your tremors increased at your little outburst. “So you just came to what? Get under my skin? Disturb me while I’m working?”
He taps a boot on the floor. “Kind of. It’s my turn to be the man behind, and this beats mopping.”
This time, the flat glare you send him is intentional. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
“I don’t know. You don’t seem as rigid as you did a few minutes ago.”
You stiffen your posture on instinct. “It’s called posture.”
“That’s not posture. That’s fear.”
His tone is light and joking, but his words hit their mark. Or maybe there isn’t a mark, and he just stabs your metaphorical bullseye anyway.
You shuffle in place, skin prickling under his gaze. “Is there a reason we’re having this conversation?”
“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”
You stare at your shoes, face hot. This is uncharted territory. The end-all-be-all of terrible conversations.
“Well for one, it’s terribly awkward, and two, I don’t see why you felt the need to call me a liar to my face.”
Buck pushes off the wall. “Okay, that’s not what I meant by that—“
“No, I think you meant what you said.”
He sighs. “Can we start over?”
“Why?”
“Because I feel like you have this misconception about me, and it would really suck if a pretty girl didn’t like me just because we got off on the wrong foot.”
PRETTY?
“You think I’m pretty?”
You slap a hand over your mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
He smirks, a mischievous thing pulling at his lips. “No, I think you meant what you said.” He says, mimicking your earlier words.
You press your hands into your face, exhaling hard.
“Well, if your goal was to make me uncomfortable, you’ve definitely succeeded.”
“Aw, that’s no good. That’s the opposite of what I wanted.”
The gears in your brain turn.
“You came here… because you wanted me to be more comfortable around you?”
He snaps his fingers. “Ding ding ding!”
You frown. “So your plan to make me more comfortable around you was to call me a liar and purposefully get under my skin?”
Your words hang in silence for a moment.
“Well when you put it like that—“
“Is there another way to put it?”
“The plan was to get you to see that nothing bad is gonna happen if you stop doing that face-lying-thing. I mean, you haven’t been doing it for the duration of this conversation and the world hasn’t ended, right?”
You look away. “That’s because I can’t pretend with you. It always falls apart. You freak me out.”
His brows furrow. “I freak you out?”
“Yes!” You snap whipping your head back to face him, “Other people put out, like, signals, you know. What kind of people they like and dislike, and I pick up on them, and avoid the parts they don’t like and play up the parts they do like. But you don’t put out anything! I don’t know what you want.”
Buck is silent for several moments. It’s unnerving.
“Have you ever considered that maybe I just like you?”
You blink. Look away. Cross your arms.
“You know,” He continues, voice a little softer, “I have a habit of liking people just as they are. Bobby tells me it’s one of my better qualities.”
“Is planning difficult conversations one of your lesser qualities?”
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“No.”
It’s easier to focus and talk about the less serious parts of this entire situation than even think about what he just said.
“How about this,” He says after you don’t speak again. “If you’re gonna fake something, or pretend you feel one way about something, you have to come tell me the truth about how you really feel.”
“Well that sounds terrible. What do you get out of it?”
He smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “You agree to let me take you on a date.”
Your face is practically on fire. Evan Buckley is asking you on a date. Buck is asking you on a date.
“Oh.”
That’s all you manage to get out. Oh.
He frowns. “Are you oka—“
You smash your face into your hands, hiding your flushed and flustered face from view. “Just— just give me a second.”
You attempt to slow your racing heart, all to aware of the fact that Buck is still in the room, still looking at you.
“…Can you turn around?”
You hear a quiet little huff, then the shuffling of footsteps, signifying he is in fact no longer looking at you.
“If I’d known you’d be this excited at the idea—“
“Shut up or I’ll say no.”
He just hums, voice teasing. “I don’t think you will.”
“I might.”
“Mm. Nope.”
“I could.”
“You won’t.”
“I won’t,” You grumble, dropping your hands. “Okay fine, I’ll do it, but when I tell you… stuff, you don’t get to make fun of me for whatever it is.”
“I really think you have the wrong idea of who I am as a person.”
“I’ve seen how you make fun of Eddie.”
“Well, that’s Eddie. It’s like, bro code.”
“Ew.”
“Having friends is gross?”
“Yes. Get out of my office.”
He turns around, grabbing his chest, feigning pain. “Oh the hurt. The pain.”
“You’ll survive, I’m sure. You’re a big boy.”
Okay what the fuck are you saying right now. Can’t god just strike you down? Can’t some old water damage cause the ceiling to come down on you?
Buck takes it in stride, laughing loudly, though if you look close, you can see a pink tinge to his cheeks.
“So when are you free for our date?”
He waggles his eyebrows suggestively over the word date, and you despise the flush it brings to your face. And ears. And neck.
“Um. Saturday?”
“Cool. You have my number, right?”
You nod.
“I’ll text you the details later this week. And hey, look at me.”
He waits until you look up. “You aren’t allowed to spend the rest of this week stressing about it, okay? It’s gonna be fun, and nice."
He opens the door to your office, ducking half out before turning around. “Remember: fun and nice.”
And then he’s gone. Then you’re just an idiot standing in your office, face hot and tingling.
He called you pretty.
—
Buck's request is difficult to follow through on. Like, sure, you agreed to it, but you still don't really understand why he wants to know this. The things that go on in your head that you don't tell anyone about. He said he got a date out of (a date, you're going on a date with Evan Buckley--) but is that really... anything?
Is it a real date? Or just some little fling? And why, exactly, is the date something he considers a fair trade? Like sure, he's hot -incredibly so- and every time you think about the date your heart speeds up and million questions run through your head, like will he pick you up, is he the type to bring flowers, where are you going for the date, all of those things.
You wince from your spot on the couch upstairs, papers strewn across the table in front of you.
"Dammit," You mutter, holding a finger up to the lip that you've chewed to shreds, now bleeding steadily, blood beginning to trickle down your chin.
A napkin appears in your line of sight, and you take it from Hen gratefully.
"Thanks."
She just nods. "Something on your mind?"
You blink, a little questioning.
"Your lip," She gestures to it. "You always chew it when you're thinking about something troubling. Is this about that new case?"
"Ah," You breathe, a small shiver running down your spine at her words. Being perceived is weird. "No actually. It's..."
You decide to be honest. News will get out anyway, and Hen appreciates truthfullness. "It's about Buck."
She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"
You shuffle the papers in front of you, hands itching for something to do, "We're going on a date on Saturday."
"Oh!" She exclaims, settling on the couch across from you. "That's... surprising. I was under the impression you didn't really care for him."
Your face heats. "That's kind of why we're going on the date. He wants to... make me more comfortable. Those were his words."
"Interesting method."
You shrug. "It's Buck."
Hen nods, a chuckle escaping her lips. "I'm guessing you're not so sure about it?"
"It's not that. I just," you debate your next words carefully, weighing the options, wondering if you should even say them, but Hen's face is open and non-judgmental, and she knows when not to gossip.
"I haven't been on a date in awhile," You admit, "Or many at all, really. I don't know what to expect."
Your hands still on the papers. "I... don't do well when I don't know what to expect."
Hen nods. "I get it. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that Buck will do everything in his power to make the date as 'comfortable'," She does finger quotes around the word, "As possible. It took him a couple tries to get here, but. He's got a good heart."
You can't help the small frown at her words. "I know."
Hen tilts her head, squinting. "Do you? Cause it seems like you aren't so sure."
Smile. Laugh.
"Well," You laugh a small, breathy thing. "In my experience, no one is that nice."
Hen snorts. "Okay, true. But Buck's been through a lot. What he may lack in tact he makes up for in earnest effort."
She stands, and levels you with a look you try hard not to whither behind. "Give him a chance. And try not to break his heart."
You smile, hoping it doesn't look as brittle as it feels. "I'll try not to."
Though I'm not sure he'll be the one getting his heart broken.
--
Buck is careful not to bother you too much at work. He still sets you on edge in that "I see through you" way of his, but he's right- nothing terrible has happened since your conversation. If anything, he's almost... gentler, in his good natured ribbing and such. He's actually rather attentive.
"Okay," He murmurs next to you at the table, most of the others finished with their food , plates cleared and being washed. "You've got your fake smile on, so spill."
You elbow him. "Cool it, Buckley."
"Great meal, Cap!" You call out to the Captain, who sends you a quick smile from the sink.
You spear a stem of asparagus prepared honestly perfectly by Bobby, and lean over to Buck. "Fine. You really wanna know?"
"Uh, yeah."
You take a huge bite, smiling as you swallow. "I hate asparagus."
Buck's eyebrows shoot up. "Are you serious? That's such a small thing to care about."
You glance up to ensure nobody's eavesdropping. "Bobby works really hard on everything he makes! I don't want any of it to go to waste or to seem unappreciative."
"Okay, we're really going to have to have a talk about your perception of everyone," He elbows you back, "Come on. Bobby would not be offended if you don't eat the vegetables because you don't like asparagus period. It's not like you're even saying you don't like his cooking!"
You take another bite. Only A few left. "Better safe than sorry."
"Stop eating them--"
"I have to finish them!"
"Something wrong over there?" Bobby's voice rings out over the kitchen.
"Nope!" You call back.
"Actually," Buck starts, ignoring your furious elbowing, "Our little investigator over here doesn't like asparagus."
Bobby tilts his head with a smile. "Why didn't you say something?"
Your stomach lurches. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-- "I... didn't want you to be offended?"
"Why would I be offended that you don't like asparagus?"
"Because you cooked it?"
He shakes his head. "Not how things work around here. If you don't like something, you don't have to eat it."
Your face feels like it's on fire and your palms are sweating and you kind of feel a little nauseous. But that might be the asparagus. "Right. Okay. Thanks."
Bobby goes back to loading the dishwasher, and the others are no longer paying attention, so you lower your forehead to the table, grateful that Buck moves your plate away before your head can meet your now unfinished vegetables.
"Why did you do that?"
"Because asparagus is a dumb thing to be worried about," He says, voice light and cheery.
"It was a valid concern," You mumble.
"Maybe in your head. But not quite in reality," He rubs your back consolingly a few times, though all the action does is rile you up more. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you're still sitting here and you actually can't see if the others are still looking and oh god maybe Bobby is upset because you're an adult, you should've known that and--
"I can physically feel how tense you just got."
Oh. Right. His hand is still on your back.
"Relax," He drags out the word, his voice low and deep, "No one is going to spontaneously hate you. I sure don't."
"You don't count."
"Mm, how come?"
You're glad your face is currently hidden by the table, because you flush when you mumble the next words.
"Cause you think I'm pretty."
"I do," He amends, "But I'm not sure that discounts my opinion. IF anything, it doubles it."
"That's not how that works."
"It's not?"
"No."
He leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Prove me wrong, then."
--
Saturday approaches and your anxiety increases. Buck had in deed texted you the details -which did, actually, make you feel better, knowing a bit of what to expect and having it in writing.
When Saturday arrives and the clock inches closer to the time he said he'd pick you up, you start to question if any of this was a good idea.
Everything collapses when you have to pick an outfit. Nothing seems right- everything is either too much or not enough. You blink the tears out of your eyes because you spent too long on your makeup to ruin it, and Buck's gonna be here soon and you need to just pick something--
A knock sounds at your door and you gasp. Shit.
You rush to the front door, and wrench it open.
"Hi I'm so sorry I'm not ready yet- oh my god are those flowers?"
Buck takes the rush of words in stride, smiling and holding the bouquet out to you. "They are."
You take the flowers with reverence, the gentle, floral aroma soothing your senses.
"Are... you okay?"
You blink, not realizing that tears had begun to well up in your eyes again. "What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I'm a little... frazzled."
His gaze darts down. "Is that why you don't have pants on?"
You're almost one hundred percent sure you burst into flames right then and there. And if you don't, you seriously hope you do.
"Oh my god- don't look, I'll be right back, uh, please come inside and close the door!"
You race back into your room and shut the door, throwing on the closest pair of pants- which happen to be the fuzzy, old, candy heart-print pajama pants you took on three hours ago when you started getting ready.
You step back out, now sporting a wonderful outfit consisting of your black, rather nicely fitting going out top and fluffy pajama pants.
"I'll be ready in about fifteen minutes, sorry about the," You pause, swallowing your embarrassment, "Lack of pants."
He chuckles, laughing that nice little Buck laugh that settles your nerves a bit. "Hey, I wasn't complaining. I asked for the real you and this has all been very real."
Your never-ending flush revives itself as he speaks. "I"m really sorry, I'm usually more put together than this, I promise."
He takes a step toward you. "Remember why we're going on this date?"
A beat passes.
Buck takes another step. "To make you more comfortable with me. And the team, but mostly me."
You laugh a little, a nervous thing.
"But you don't seem very comfortable right now." His hands rise to the your waist, sliding down to your hips.
"Sorry," You say on instinct.
He huffs. "Still don't think you're getting the point of this. Okay, what was the big stressor of tonight, besides the actual date part?"
You look down at your feet. "My outfit."
"Well," He says, squeezing your waist and very clearly enjoying the little squeak you let out at the action, "Then why don't we sollve that by..."
Your heart siezes. Oh god, you're not ready to sleep with him, you haven't had your everything shower because it was only the first date and you didn't think--
"...Staying in tonight? I can order some takeout and we can watch a movie."
Oh.
"But your reservation--"
"Can be called and cancelled," He soothes. "I only want to do things you're comfortable with. That was the whole point of this date."
Later, after you both stuffed your faces with takeout graciously ordered by Buck, and both of you cuddled up on the couch (!) you let yourself speak.
"Buck?"
"Hmm?"
"Sorry for freaking out earlier," You curl your arm around his bicep, face smashed into the side of it while you (pretend) to watch the movie. "Thanks for... this. And the flowers."
"You really like those flowers, huh?"
"Mhm. They're really pretty. No one's ever gotten me flowers before."
"What? No way."
"Well. I haven't ever gotten flowers from a date or boyfriend," You stumble over the word boyfriend, "But like, you know. Graduations and stuff."
"Guess we're going to have to fix that, then."
"We are?"
He raises a brow. "You didn't think I was gonna stop at one date, did you?"
"Well it was kind of a mess."
He shrugs. "On one of my first dates, I choked on bread and my date at the time had to perform a tracheotomy with a ballpoint pen."
You gape at him. "Those are real?"
He traces a finger over the thin, silver scar on his throat. "Yep. So trust me, this date turned out fine. I actually uh,"
He flushes a little, a dusting of red on his cheeks. "I actually really enjoyed tonight."
You chew your lip, nervous and scared but all the sudden deciding that you're going to get over yourself and do something. No matter how small.
You stare at the end credits. "You wanna watch another movie?"
"Absolutely. More takeout?"
"I don't know how you can even think about eating more. But I do have popcorn in the pantry."
He presses a quick, soft little kiss to your cheek. "Perfect."
In all of his former relationships, Buck has always been called some variation of needy or clingy.
And while it's never really said to harm or insult per se, Buck can't help but take it that way sometimes.
So when he first enters in a relationship with you, he tries his best to put out speed brakes for himself, to avoid being too much. Because this relationship with you was different. He felt different, he felt seen, and he was completely and wholeheartedly in love with you. But he feared that if he was too clingy, maybe the relationship wouldn't last.
He knows it is unfair to you - to assume that you would not like the version of him where he is himself fully - but Buck's brain was never really fair to him.
When he enters the house after a particularly hard and gruelling shift, all he really wants is to be with you. To hold onto you and not let you go, but again - he doesn't want to make you feel suffocated in any way. So he shoots you a text instead, before stepping into the shower.
When he finally exits the shower, plumes of steam billowing behind him, Buck stops dead in his tracks - because you were there.
Buck blinks and rubs his eyes, wondering if he had conjured you up out of sheer will.
You smile softly, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You scratch the curls at the nape of his neck, ones that had been formed with the humidity, and Buck can't help his eyes fluttering closed at just how right it felt.
"Not that I'm complaining, but what are you doing here?" Buck asks gently.
"You seemed down in your text. I wanted to help."
Buck feels stinging in his eyes at your words, at the fact that you knew him so thoroughly with a simple message, and burrows his face into the side of your neck. "Move in with me?" He asks, the words slightly muffled against your skin.
And well, the two other times that Buck had asked his partners to move in with him, there had always been a dull, twinging feeling that warned him that the proposition didn't feel right. But this time? Buck felt the certainty rooted deep into the marrow of his bones.
You look at him with bright eyes, and an even brighter smile. "Yes."
911 fans? I want to write a Buck x reader ff or short one shot.
Any ideas? I already have a few but I feel that my ideas right now are not as interesting lol.
Since I don't write as much,I have so many drafts and I lost creativity for now🙃
I need to post some that I already finished writing.
Maybe not buck, maybe someone else, like Hayden christensen characters, idk, Jungkook or someone from bts, I also used to write about Eddie Munson as well.. I need to know the people to feel confident writing about them as well.
gamechangershow
romaincrisis
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izzy806
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