Same disclaimer as before. I do not own 911/Chicago, nor do I make money off this.
Firstly, I am stunned by the reviews and by how much love this has gotten. For all of your kind words, you have won a second Chapter. Love you.
Second, I want to thank dbakeiro, who proofed this for me. Thank you!
Third, I hadn't been planning of adding Buck's POV, but I will give you a peep at it.
Let me know what you think!
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. Buck left alone is the worst punishment you could 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 with all sense of self vanished. This is why he fought to get it back. This is why he sued. Why he pushed. He was stupid to think it would go back to 'normal.' It was anything but. It was 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 still held the belief that it would, but after two months of a frosty tundra, he just feels 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 along his former friends, his former family.
Not along 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 would do whatever she asks, even if it means staying here. He feels shitty, 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 hallway for ten minutes. "You got this," he tells himself, his heart racing. He repeats this several 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.
*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, just 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 make a sandwich. A sandwich sounds really good and safe at the moment.
"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 is beef, but he isn't sure. "That's okay." Kelly replies as he grabs a bottle of water, waving it in the air. "I'm-"
"There he is!" Herrmann's loud voice echoes from the apparatus floor.
Kelly steps two feet to the left for a better view and visibly 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.
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 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 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 have 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 is 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 member of this house.
Just before he turns to walk to his Officer Quarters, he hears some odd banging from 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 he sees nothing, just 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 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 seats against the corner on the ground. He attempted to hide behind the coats, and with a quick glance, the hiding spot works, Buckley almost blends in.
Kelly contemplates turning around and leaving 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 knocked on wood before heading to bed, and without a bell to interrupt their slumber, most were 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 climbs out of bed. 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. 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 whenever 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 ever. 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. "Shit," 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 let out a heavy sigh. "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 went pinkish. "Sor-" The word dies in his throat at Kelly's pointed stare. Kelly is also 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 to the supply room for a broom. "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 for a few seconds 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 of the 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 hasn'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 his 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 muffles, 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, you 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 will 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, 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 last night, his bed is calling his name. As soon as he gets home, he's taking a long nap. However, Casey is not 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 shots him an odd 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 am 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. 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 am 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 would 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 will 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 am 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 unlikely.
"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 is 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 simply likes to do his job and leave, not that I am complaining. I enjoy not having to babysit a guy when I'm already babysitting the house." He takes a drink of his own bear. "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 House 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 am 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 just 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 to 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.
The Author Note:
I would say Poor Kelly, but he is going to luck out in the end.
Again, let me know what you think and if you like the peek into Buck's POV.
