Thanks dbakeiro again who proofed this for me. She may be mad that I made her hungry for Bacon Mac and Cheese, but that is all in a day's work.
I so wanted to hug Buck in this, but I could probably Buck at any time.
Anyhow, let me what you think via reviews.
Chapter 4:
A change of Heart
Several days pass before Buck works up the nerve to send the first postcard. His brain goes to war with itself for the first day, as he struggles to find the right words. Every time he thinks he got it, something else comes to his mind. Honestly, there're so many things he wants to say, while at the same time too scared to say. In the end, he settles on 'Hey Mads, I'm fine. Just need time. Love you, Evan.' It isn't the truth, but it's the closest to truth he's willing to admit. He does need time and he does love her, but he is not fine. Evan isn't sure he would ever be fine again. Stop it. Buck yells at himself. He refuses to allow himself to go down that road and throw himself a pity party. Only smiles allowed on this trip. Maybe it won't be a lie after a while.
The next post card he picks up on Route 66 is at the Blue Hole in New Mexico. After pocketing it in his back pocket, he stares down at the deep blue water. At first, he is satisfied staring at it, but there's a group of scuba divers at the edge of the water, and after a passing comment to the group regarding scuba certifications, Buck somehow gets invited to go with them. While wanting to be left alone, his first gut reaction is to decline, but something in him, the part of him that wants human companionship, is screaming, and unable to ignore it, he agrees rather loudly and awkwardly. While he doesn't go into the underwater caves—he doesn't have a death wish-, he finally feels free. He feels weightless. God, he needs this, and he stays under as long as his air tank allows.
The third postcard is from the Cadillac Ranch in Texas. Under the intense heat, he, with a can of spray paint in one hand, runs his fingers along each car, putting to memory the artwork and adding his own spin to them. While some may not understand the beauty behind them, Buck is fascinated by it. He could stare for hours, but he doesn't. With a layer of sweat lining his skin and red, burnt skin from the sweltering sun, he leaves. Granted, he doesn't stay long in Texas all over, even if there're other places on route 66 to see. The very state makes him think of Eddie, which is a no go for him. The very thought of Eddie makes his knees weak, and the cruel insults he would rather forget fill his head. In an attempt to escape those ghosts, he steps on the gas and breaks some laws getting out of Texas faster.
It isn't until the Blue Whale in Catoosa, Oklahoma that Buck is free from the memories of the man he used to call his best friend. However, any lingering thought of Eddie will bring those feelings back in full force. Nevertheless, he stays on route 66, whose attractions fascinate him, and for some reason, Buck loves the Blue Whale. Maybe, it's because of the romantic story behind it: a surprise anniversary gift from a husband to his wife. Maybe, it's the hopeless romantic in him and the idea of having someone love you that much to gift you a blue whale they crafted himself makes Buck a little loopy…
Oddly, it makes him a little homesick. He misses his former life. Misses Maddie most of all. The intense nostalgia prompts him into sending the postcards he collected to Maddie. He doesn't write much on the back of these cards, only noting that he's enjoying his time on the road. He isn't sure what the 118 told her about what happened, but he isn't going to tell her, especially not through postcards. He also doesn't reveal that he isn't coming back; instead, on the Blue Whale postcard, he tells her the story of Zelta and Huge Davis.
After mailing the postcards, he leaves Oklahoma and continues on to St. Louis, Missouri. For the first few hours, he simply drives around the city, which is quite different from the other stops along route 66, and Buck engrosses himself in it. He misses the feel and culture of a large city, and he buries himself in it. Unable to pull himself away, he spends a week here, finding all of the hot spots. He spends several nights at clubs, his tongue down more throats he can count. Men, women, he doesn't discrimination. There're a few invitations to back to their place: though for now, Buck shakes them off. He just loses himself in the music and alcohol. God, it feels amazing.
On the third day, a super hungover Buck visits the Gateway Arch, wobbling, walking it end to end, and, even in his haze, can't help but wonder about its designer. He makes a mental note of researching it later. For now, he visits the nearby tourist stand and eyes the postcards. Unable to decide which one he wants to send, he grabs three different ones. On the third one, he makes a goofy comment about how he couldn't choose. 'Isn't that just like me?' It's meant as a joke, but the joke triggers something deep within him and he spends the last night there drinking far too much at a busy bar. Unlike the other nights, he goes home with a nameless brunette. He can't tell you her name, which he feels guilty about when he tips toes out of her apartment the next morning, but the guilt is overshadowed by the 'normalcy' it brings him, though only for a second. Everything comes rushing back, his past, his sex addition, scares the crap out of him. It would be so easy to fall back into that addiction.
That fear drives Buck out of St. Louis, and he doesn't stop until he finds himself at the Meramec Caverns in Stanton, Missouri. He, his mind still in a fog, joins a tour group and collects another postcard, one this time, before he mechanically continues his drive on Route 66 to the Gemini Giant in Wilmington, Illinois. Maybe, it's that one night stand from a few days prior, but he feels heavy in his skin and standing in front of the Gemini Giant makes him itch. He stays long enough to collect a postcard and drop it in the next mail box with a simple and quick 'Look at this guy.'
His head against the headrest, he sits in his Jeep for hours, feeling like a complete fool. It hits him like a pound of bricks, as he wonders how he could be so stupid. He knows the signs, knows this feeling all too well, but he hasn't been this empty before. The sex addict in him is screaming for it, for that intimacy, but he knows if he gives in, he will be gone and there will be no return. To be honest, that scares him. While he is currently aimless, he doesn't want to be that person again. With a deep breath and shaky hands, he straightens up, turns the ignition key and takes off down the road.
*O*O*
Present
The next week passes in a flash, and like Kelly expected, Buckley becomes a distant memory, only coming to mind once or twice. It's both sad and welcomed at the same time, and it reassures Kelly that Buckley will become a fading thought in a couple weeks. While the question of why he's intrigued by Buckley still hangs in the air, he's happy to have life return to normal, and soon that question will be gone. However, his life would be so much better now if the rain would stop. It's pouring, which makes everything harder- including their jobs-, as the number of car accidents seem to double in the rain.
"Oh, joy," he mutters as the rain droplets strike his car like small stones. With the visibility cut in half, today is going to crap, especially as the rain doesn't appear to be stopping any time soon. With a deep breath, he pushes the door open and leaps out, water hitting him immediately. He slams—while silently apologizing to his car—the door closes and makes a beeline to the station. Regrettably, Kelly is drenched when he steps into the building. While he doesn't care how he looks at work, he looks like a soggy rat. Not one ounce of him is dry, including his ass. "Today is going to be the best day." He mockingly complains to himself.
"Looking good, Severide." Casey yells out. He, a clipboard in his hands and a cheeky smile on his face, appears out from behind a truck.
Kelly rips off his wet jack and twists it to wring out the water. A small puddle forms beneath him. "Don't be jealous," he shoots back, whips his jacket at him like a wet towel.
"What do I have to be jealous of?" Casey teases as he eyes the flying jacket.
Kelly laughs while he throws his jacket over the closest chair and turns his attention to his shirt. Squeezing out the water from the bottom of his shirt, he jokes, "Do I need to make a list?" He, to shake off the large, excess water droplets from his hair, shakes his head as he makes his way to the locker room without waiting for a response. Left behind by each step are wet footprints, which sparkle under the lights.
He pauses at the doorway when he hears Casey, with mocking/know it all tone, call, "Hey, Herrmann."
Said man perks up his head, a confused stare in his eyes, and makes his way over. "Yes?" Herrmann asks slowly.
"Me or Severide?" Casey solicits without providing any details or explanation. The only clue is his Chester cat smile.
Eyes bouncing between them, Herrmann opens and closes his mouth a few times before letting out a chuckle. "Do I even want to know?"
"Just answer, Herrmann." Casey orders with a smile
Before either Herrmann could grunt out an answer, Boden, a bit disheveled, appears and yells. "Severide." He stretches out his Lieutenant's name, noticing the water puddle behind him. An unasked question hangs in the air for a moment. Shaking his head, he adds, "My office… After you get into something dry."
"Yes, Chief." The wind howls, drawing everyone's attention. Oh, this shift is going to be fun. Kelly can already feel it. Granted, that could be his wet ass talking, and nothing feels right when his ass is wet.
*O*O*
Though his hair's still damp, Kelly feels a million times better after he peels off his wet clothes and steps into a dry set. While it's still gushing, the day is already better. Kelly, a towel around his neck, spots a few more wet heads along the floor, as he, unconsciously, scans the rooms on his way to Boden's office. He isn't the only victim of the storm. When he finally makes it his destination, Kelly knocks on the glass of Boden's office door and probes himself, "Yea, Chief?"
Boden looks up from desk and waves Kelly in. "Come in."
Involuntarily, Kelly's eyes go to the window for a moment, watching the rainwater cascade down the glass, before he focuses on his Chief. "You called," he states, crossing to the back of one of the chairs facing Boden.
Boden glances up from his files, eyeing the damp towel around Kelly's neck before meeting his eyes. "Ferraris has a family emergency and will be out for the next few shifts." he replies, before returning to the files. He flips through them - personal files from the look of them.
Kelly, his eyes on the photos on the corner of each folder, squeezes the back of the chair. "How many shifts?" he asks. If it's one shift, Squad could deal, and he won't worry about bringing in a floater. Even with two shifts, he could make it work. He hates dealing with floaters… especially a certain one.
"We'll have to play it by ear." Boden answers. "But I've already called in a floater."
If he has to have a floater, Kelly would rather pick his own floaters to ensure they're up to the task. "Who?" He questions, his mind already spinning. With less squad trained floaters, the pool to choose from is limited. "I didn't see any floater out there."
Boden, turning to the computer on his desk, doesn't answer right away. There's a slight annoyance in his typing, as he is unable to locate the documentation he needs. "We had to change a few floaters around, so the Squad qualified floater is coming from across town. He should be here by 9am."
Kelly nods, not worried unless it's someone he doesn't like. "So who are we getting?" he asks, curious. While Squad Floaters are a different story, there're a few he avoids, mostly due to personality clashes. While he does have an impressive record, he can admit that he doesn't have the most charming personality and he clashes with people.
"Evan Buckley." Boden replies.
The world glitches for Kelly for a moment. "What?" he utters, though unsure of how he even formed the word. Boden, his surroundings, disappears, his mind on the fritz. Every brainwave error on thoughts of Evan Buckley, a man who just baffles him. He tries to right his world by telling himself that Buckley is just a Floater… a floater who doesn't seem to disappear. Isn't that the point of Floaters? To disappear? How does he keep getting floating spots at this firehouse? Is Kelly cursed? Isn't there a more important question? Like why does it matter? He asks himself. Instead, images fill his head. Like the fact that Buckley will be serving under him. Kelly will be able to boss him around. What? Why is he so hot and bothered by Buckley? Wait, what? No, he is not hot and bothered by the Floater. He is-
"Severide?" Boden asks, noticing the stiffness in his lieutenant. "Are you okay with Buckley?"
Everything snaps back, and Boden's form sharpens. "As long as he is squad certified." Kelly replies, feeling uneasy. The only issues are the issues in Kelly's own head, where they are going to stay. He is not going to ruin someone's reputation because he can't get it together.
*O*O*
As soon as Kelly leaves Boden's office, he makes a promise to himself that Buckley is just a floater and nothing more. He is going to keep Buckley at arm's length and pair him up with Cruz. Let Cruz deal with him. Kelly is going to pretend he isn't there, going to keep his eyes solely on whatever is in his hands. He's going to keep busy, even if he has to clean the damn firehouse or offer to do Casey's paperwork. He would do whatever it takes not to be next to Evan Buckley for long periods of time. While he ignores the silliness of it, a sense of relief floods Kelly when he settles on this plan. It gives him something to focus on, and whatever he's feeling can be left forgotten in a corner of his mind. He can focus on the day. His pre-Buckley days.
However, that plan, that strategy, flies out the window when he lays eyes on the Floater 28 minutes later. The damn Floater. Evan Buckley steps into the firehouse, soaked to his bones, his hair weighed down lying flat against his skin. His clothes, water collecting at the edges, are pressed against his body like a second skin, showing every line and curve on his body. His shoes swash with each step, water puddling beneath his feet. Buckley looks like a sad puppy caught out in the freezing rain, and Kelly wants to wrap his arms around him. Again, his brain freezes.
What about the plan? Kelly tries to reason with himself, though his voice of reason is drowned out by Buckley's gloomy expression. A solid excruciating minute passes before Kelly pushes himself out of his recliner and heads to the locker room. Though Cruz and Cap follow him with their eyes, Kelly will deny that he follows Buckley into the locker room. He just needs something out of the locker room.
As soon as Kelly opens the door, he's hit with a high pitch groan. Kelly stands for a second, pondering if he should leave Buck alone, seeming like he needs time to himself. Yet, he can't turn around. "You okay?" Kelly asks loudly, knocking on the wall to announce his presence.
Buckley's head pops up and he freezes. "Oh, hey." He clumsily welcomes, his eyes saucers when he spots Kelly lingering. A shirtless Buckley holds his wet shirt out for Kelly to see. "J-Just wet in places..." He does not elaborate where.
Kelly nods, feeling the shift in the air. He can't tell you what it is. "I feel you."
"I…um…" Buckley waves his wet shirt in the air. His wet chest glistens under the artificial light.
This isn't the first time Kelly has seen Buckley shirtless, though it's the first time he notices Buckley's tattoos. Kelly, his brain putting them to memory, doesn't know what to make of them, but he can't say he isn't curious. They aren't the stereotypical ones he's used to seeing on Firefighters, who either go for the flashy ones or ones that represent the job: AKA a firefighting badge. The one on his—Nope, nope nope. Kelly shakes his head. He may have already abandoned the plan without even a single thought, but he isn't going to go down that path. "Um, come find me when you're dried."
Buck nods as he reaches for his towel. He whips it around and slaps it across the back of his neck, rainwater still dripping from his hairline. "Yes, Lieutenant," he replies, meeting Kelly's eyes.
It's only for a moment, his eyes dropping to the ground the next, but Kelly's cheeks are warm. It startles him and he drops his glaze. Buckley pulls the towel up and over his head, effectively hiding his face from view, and rubs his hair dry. Forcing his eyes up and away from Buckley's chest, Kelly eyes the now damp towel before he spins and leaves the locker room, his cheeks still warm.
*O*O*
Ten minutes later, Buckley walks out onto the apparatus floor, his boots swashing with his step. He, a little sheepish, scans the floor before his eyes settle on the squad table, more specifically Kelly. With a deep breath, he jogs over and stands awkwardly at the table, as he greets, "Lieutenant."
Kelly eyes the man before he motions to the seat across from him. "Take a seat, Buckley." he orders. Again, his plan from earlier is dead the second he lays his eyes on Buckley.
While he says it in the friendliest tones, Buckley goes stiff, and 30 seconds goes by before he moves to the empty chair and sits. "Yes, Sir," he replies, shooting a quick uneasy look at Capp and Cruz who currently sit catty-corner from Kelly.
"Relax, Buckley. We aren't too formal here." Kelly replies with a wave of his hand. The tension in Buckley's shoulder is back in folds, and it's unnerving, which doesn't sit well with Kelly. Buckley is six foot something with pretty blue eyes and a six pack. He should have everything, but yet, he is anxious and detached, always looking over his shoulder. What the hell happened to this man to make him like this? Why are you getting involved? His voice of reason demands. Because. He protests strongly. No one should be this sad. No one's pain should be ignored. No one should be that alone. But you don't know if he is alone.
"This is the cool table, Floater. Squad only," Capp teases, leaning back in his chair.
Cruz gives Capp the most scandalous look. "Wait…" He tilts his head. "Are you calling yourself cool, Capp?"
"Cooler than you," Capp points a sharp finger at him.
"Oh, really?"
While the two playfully bicker with each other, Severide's sole attention is on Buckley, whose eyes are bouncing between Cruz and Capp, sitting as stiff as a board, the tension in his shoulder cut in half. "So, Buckley," he says loudly, not caring to listen to Cruz and Capp's banter. "I wasn't aware you had squad certifications."
"Yea," Buckley replies quietly. He glances down at his hand, picking at his nails, and chews on his next words. "Our Captain liked us to be ready for anything." He pauses, peeping up to Kelly's face. "It came in handy. We had some crazy calls."
Cruz breaks from his staring contest with Capp and leads forward. "Like what?"
Buckley, chewing on his bottom lip, is silent for an awkward minute before he finally offers up. "Responded once to an airplane crash in the bay. It was a rush against time to save the passengers as the plane was sinking. Our Captain…" He pauses. "He, ah, almost got trapped himself, trying to save a pinned woman."
"Whoa. I bet that was crazy." Cruz replies.
"A drop in a bucket," Buckley shrugs. Most would up play their saves, but he's actively down playing them. "We had a lot of crazy calls. Once, I had to do an elevator rescue where the elevator was filling up with water."
Kelly studies Buckley's facial expression. For a moment, he thinks Buckley is about to open up, but it's gone in a flash. "How does that happen?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"Those all seem pretty tamed," Capp replies with a cocky grin as he leans back in his chair. He folds his arms across his chest and tries to look unimpressed. However, Kelly can see through it.
"Oh, then we had a Flying bouncy house." Buckley shots out.
"A what?" Cruz asks, befuddled. His brain goes into hyperdrive trying to figure it out how.
"A flying bouncy house," The Floater repeats. "Exactly how it sounds. It wasn't secure and a strong gust of wind took it airborne." He pretends his hand is the bounce house and cuts it through the air in front of him like a toy plane.
This is the most aminated Kelly has seen the Floater, though Kelly spends too much time staring at Buckley's lips. "Kids inside?"
"Kids inside."
Cruz nods slowly. "Those poor kids. Just think of the therapy." He shakes his head. "Remind me never to rent a bouncy house for my kids."
"Your nonexistent kids, Cruz?" Kelly teased.
"Yes, my nonexistent kids," Cruz playfully bites back.
Kelly watches every twitch on Buckley's face, and out of nowhere, his expression changes instantly. It's odd to see Buckley shut down almost instantly, feeling like whiplash. Kelly just blinks, unsure what happened. What triggered Buckley this time? "So why do you float on Truck and Engine if you have squad certifications?" he asks, wanting to change the subject from whatever caused the change in Buckley.
Buckley sits back in his chair, his hands in his lap. "I don't care what crew I'm on or what I have to do. I just want to be a firefighter." He states, resolutely.
"A man after my own heart." Casey interjects, a few feet behind Buckley who flinches. "Good to see you again, Buckley."
Kelly isn't sure how long Casey, a coffee in hand, has been standing there listening to their conversion, as he was too focused on Buckley to notice, though he isn't alone in his surprise. No one appears to have noticed Casey's approach.
"Good morning, Captain Casey," Buckley replies, stiffly and formally.
Casey's eyes narrow, his eyes calculating. However, before Casey could say what's on his tongue, the bell rings. "Squad 3. Man pinned."
Capp jumps to his feet and slaps Buckley on the shoulder. "Here we go, Buckley."
Buckley's eyes dropped to his shoulder for a split second, a mix of shock, confusion, and panic filled his eyes. Kelly stares, wanting to take his expression apart, but there's no time to ponder it.
*O*O*
Kelly keeps peeping back in the truck, stealing glances at Buckley. Even off the truck, his eyes wander to him. The expression from earlier is gone, a hard mask in its place. Kelly doesn't allow his mind to wander more and chastises himself for letting his focus drift for even a second. They have a man pinned. A man who was working on his car in his garage before the jack broke. The wife is frantic, screaming and yelling at the top of her lungs. The EMTs are attempting to calm her, though to no avail.
"Buckley, airbags," Kelly orders, while Capp and Cruz try to relieve pressure. Buckley nods, dashing back into the rain to the truck. Kelly turns his attention to the man, his upper half covered by the car. "We are going to get you out of there, Robert. Just hold on." In record time, Buckley returns 45 seconds later, dripping wet.
After the okay from the EMT, Buckley places the bag and proceeds to inflate them. The bags inflate within 60 seconds, and the car jumps upward, metal squealing. The man groans loudly, panic setting in, which clues Cruz and Kelly to pull. He is bloody and dirty, but overall, he's in 1 piece, and once in the hands of the EMTs, they are back in the rain, heading to the truck. Not long after, they receive their next call. Unfortunately, they don't have a cover of a garage to protect them from the rain. In some attempt to fix his receiver for his television, the man finds himself impaled on his broken metal fence. Don't ask Kelly how that happened. Buckley and Capp cover a plastic tarp over the man to block the rain, while Cruz holds the fence still. "Cutting," Kelly announces. The hum of the saw is drowned out by the rain.
While they are able to free the man and load him into the ambo quickly, they're dripping wet by the time they get back into the truck. "Let's gas up, while we are out," Kelly states, shaking his wet arm. After topping off the tank, a wet Squad 3 heads back to the firehouse, Capp and Cruz are chatting away. Whatever the topic is, Kelly isn't paying any attention, his focus on Buckley, who has not said a word. Kelly isn't sure what to make out of it, because while Buckley doesn't engage, it doesn't appear that he detests the conversion. It's odd, like he wants to talk and not talk at the same time.
*O*O*
When Squad 3 pulls into the firehouse, only Chief Boden is in, the Ambo, Truck and Engine out. After stripping off their wet gear, Capp and Cruz, already complaining about food, head to the kitchen for a snack to hold them over until dinner. On the other hand, Buckley, after taking off his own wet turnover coat, lingers beside the truck. Kelly isn't sure what Buckley is thinking, but he doubts even Buckley knows as he keeps taking a step forward followed by a step back. Each step is in a different direction, his destination changing.
If Buckley isn't so sad, Kelly might've found this whole dance funny, but knowing there's a sadness in Buckley, it breaks Kelly to watch this. Unable to watch anymore, he crosses to the Floater. "You okay, Buckley?" he asks, fighting the urge to reach out to him.
Buckley straightens, his shoulders stiff. "I'm fine, Lieutenant," he replies, relaxing just a bit.
Kelly's eye twitches, but he doesn't call Buckley out on the title. He has to be careful and mindful of the subjects he pushes on. The use of his title isn't one of them. "Well, relax. Lay down. rest, Buckley." As the words leave his mouth, he knows Buckley will disregard them. "Get off your feet."
The sounds of rain fill the air, as Buckley opens and closes his mouth, no words coming out. Instead, he closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. "No."
"Buckley."
"I can't." Buckley, eyes wet, sounds wounded, which hit Kelly right in his heart. "I just can't."
Kelly attempts to settle his heart and curb the anger that roars inside him. What—Who the hell hurt this man? Why would someone hurt him? While Kelly has tried to ignore his anger and the questions, he keeps seeing signs, which pulls him right back in, and slowly the pieces start coming together. Someone ripped this man apart and damaged a vital piece of him with zero care. "Why?" he asks softly. The Floater doesn't answer and simply walks past him, his eyes on the push broom on the other side of the floor. Knowing where this is going, Kelly lets out a heavy sigh and follows, and before Buckley can reach the broom, Kelly grabs it and holds it away from.
"Lieutenant." Buckley, his fear creeping up, attempts to sidesteps Kelly and reach for the broom, though Kelly blocks him each step with his body.
If Casey was here, he would give Kelly shit for this, but Kelly is not cool with the idea of Buckley spending hours cleaning the firehouse. Buckley is a fellow firefighter, not their maid. Kelly will not use him and throw him away like trash. But you almost did, his mind interjects. "I think you've cleaned this firehouse enough. Go Rest, Buckley." Kelly orders.
Buckley awkwardly rocks on his feet, his eyes on anything but Kelly. "It is of no bother." His voice is small and soft. "I'm fine. I like to keep on my feet."
"That's all fine and dandy, but everyone needs help. Doesn't make you less of a man to accept it." Kelly states, as he offers a smile. "Let me help you."
"Iamthreeinchestallerthanyou." Buckley shots out. A second passes before it dawns on him, and once more, he is completely red in the face.
Kelly's confusion is written all over his face. "What?" Did he hear that correctly? Did…Did Buckley just say he is three inches taller than him? What does that have to do with this? And is he counting? And it isn't Kelly's fault that Buckley is a tall Adonis god with a set of muscles for arms. Without another word and with a beat red face, Buckley twists around and power walks away. No, he doesn't run, but he makes a beeline to the kitchen/common area. Kelly, in disbelief, stares at the spot for a second and asks, "What the hell was that?"
*O*O*
Kelly skates through his paperwork in record time, though he doesn't exit his office until a half an hour later. Listening to the rain strikes the window, his mind wonders to Buckley. While he can only judge by the few conversions he had with the Floater, he keeps trying to come up with scenarios that would turn Buckley into a timid, shy man. However, this is only guesswork, and he could admit that. Kelly could also admit that he has no idea who Evan Buckley was prior to stepping into the firehouse. Maybe, the Floater has always been there like this; no, that just feels wrong. He can't tell you why besides the fact that it feels wrong.
Puffing, Kelly forces his thoughts away from the man and closes his eyes. He slowly counts down in an attempt to settle himself. He kicks his feet up to his desk and leads back as he tries to get comfortable. Maybe, then he will be able to clear his mind. It takes a few tries, a few deep breaths, to clear his mind, and as he listens to the raindrops, it almost puts him to sleep, his eyelids heavy. He sits in sleep limbo for a second before his stomach punches him awake with an angry growl. "Fine." He rumbles to himself as he lowers his feet and jumps to his feet.
His stomach reverberates again, earning another sigh. Kelly, his mind distracted, hasn't had anything since this morning. Watching Cruz and Capp go to town on snacks, he was intent on waiting for whenever Ritter and Gallo got back to fix dinner, but considering everyone, besides Squad 3, is out, there's no telling when they will return and he's too hungry to wait. Should someone else fix dinner for the crew? Sure, but Kelly does not have the patience and he doesn't cook for the fire house.
Closing the office behind it, Kelly makes his way to the kitchen. He picks up the sound of sizzling before he rounds the kitchen and not to his surprise, it is Buckley behind the stove cooking. There was no chance it would have been Cruz or Capp. "What you making?" Kelly asks from the doorway.
Buckley looks up, his lips flat, and studies Kelly for a moment. "Bacon Mac and cheese." He tips the sizzling pan of bacon and tilts his head to a block of cheese to his right. There is also a bag of uncooked elbow macaroni to his left.
"From scratch?" Kelly asks, both amazed and enjoying the smell of bacon at the time.
"Is there any other way?" Buckley's eyes drop to the pan, his expression a mixture of a smile and a grimace.
Remembering the eggs from earlier, Kelly points and declares, "You like to cook!" There's no judgement in his voice, just amazement and…wait?... delighted? Thrilled that he knows something about the Floater. Oh, it takes only so little to bring a smile to his face.
"Yea." Redness blooms in Buckley's face again as he opens the box of macaroni.
Without even processing what he is doing, Kelly walks over, any earlier objecting to dinner goes out the window. He rubs his chins and asks hesitantly, "Do you need any help?" He doubts that Buckley needs his help, him not the best cook, but he offers. "You can order me around for a change." He grins.
Buckley's face goes even redder. "O-okay," he stutters.
Normally the timidness annoys him, but the odd shyness is oddly attractive. Kelly's brain freezes on the word, a blue screen of death. The word bounces across every fiber of his being, destroying self-accessed labels, but it feels right. However, He doesn't want to process the meaning of that, whatever that is. "Okay, where do you want me?"
"Bacon," Buckley answers and points as he turns to the pasta.
Kelly, still smiling, nods and crosses to the front stove. "Oh, I love the smell of bacon." He playfully smells the cooking bacon.
Buckley shoots him a look before refocusing on the block of cheese. Silence falls as Buckley keeps his eyes trained down, fumbling with the cheese packaging. For a while, Kelly doesn't care about the silence and is content with it since he has a chance to watch the Floater in action. Sure, Buckley doesn't have the same grace that he had prior when he thought he was alone in the kitchen, but he doesn't look like some child walking in his parent's heels. "Milk," Buckley randomly declares and points in the air. He twists, spinning around Kelly—barely three inches between them- toward the refrigerator for the milk. Kelly follows him with his eyes, fascinated by the hop in the Floater step. As time goes by, Buckley gets more comfortable. While there is a long way to go before he is gifted with Buckley's true face, he can see a glimpse of it now. It's rather nice.
After cooking the bacon, Kelly asks, "Now what?" The bacon is enough to make his stomach rumble again, which earns a baby smile—not quite a full smile—from Buckle.
"Chop them. If you can handle that?" Buckley asks, as he hands Kelly a knife.
Kelly stares at Buckley for a bit before he takes the knife, their fingers touching for a second. A sense of warmness blooms in his fingers. "Is that some sass I hear, Buckley?" He sticks his tongue out. "Already sassing me, geez."
Once more Buck, including his ears, goes red, and a minute goes by before he speaks. "You…you can call me Buck."
Hm, Buck. Kelly beams. "Okay, Buck." Buckley—Buck nods his head as he pours the pasta into an oven safe pan. Once Kelly finishes chopping the bacon, Buck, with no care, reaches across Kelly for the sliced bacon bits. "Hey," Kelly exclaims, pulling back the knife quickly.
Buck hums and tosses a piece of bacon into his mouth before dumping the remaining into the pan. With a quick stir, he mixes everything together and places it in the pre-heated oven. Not even a second later, Buck orders—yes orders—they are making a salad, and while a salad is just a salad, Buck seems to enjoy the fact that he gets to boss Kelly around. "You are enjoying this too much," he replies as Buck throws the lettuce at him.
"Enjoying what?" Buck asks innocently.
Kelly gets it: who would not want to order him around. Kelly would love to boss Casey around for a day, shit even an hour, and while Casey technically out ranks him, no doubt Casey would love to order him around. "You know what." He replies. This time around, Kelly pucks pepper off Buck's cutting board—between cuts- and tosses it in his mouth.
"Hey," Buck protests, looking offended.
However, before Kelly can respond, a voice from the doorway calls out. "What do we have here?"
Kelly's head shots up, his smile disappearing. "Casey," he articulates, eyeing him and the rest of truck 81 and Engine 51 standing behind him. Each of them is soaked to the bone. When did they get here?
Gallo pushes forward, a grin taking up his entire face. "Oh yes. Dinner!" he pauses, remembering his wet clothes.
"Change first!" Ritter counters, as he points up the air.
Casey, his hair sticking to his face, watches Ritter and Gallo without another word head toward the locker room from the corner of his eyes. "They were complaining about cooking dinner the entire time."
"Real earful," Stella says with an eye roll, as Foster and she follow Ritter and Gallo, a trail of wet footprints behind them.
"Wait, Severide is cooking?" Herrmann exclaims loudly, as he peeps around Casey. "Oh, my god. He is." Shaking out his wet jacket, he glances up at the two behind the stove.
Kelly huffs. "I cook. Just not for you picky asses."
"Me pick-"
"How long before dinner?" A female voice asks, interrupting Lieutenants. It takes a moment to process, but there behind Casey stands Brett, who has an odd expression on her face when she meets their stare.
Buck has sunk into himself, and he's looking anywhere else but at them. "15 minutes," he answers.
Once more, Kelly is hit by whiplash when he notices the sudden change in Buck. For a second, he's wondering if Buck has been switched out with a clone. His anger bubbles back up inside of him in folds, and it takes everything in him to keep this anger off his face. Just give me a name. He has the uncontrollable urge to punch whoever hurt Buck in the face. He just needs a name
"Good." Herrmann nods as he and everyone else - with the exception of Casey and Brett—head to the locker room. Brett is still eyeing Buck.
Casey, his shoes squeaking, steps toward the oven, his eyes bouncing between the two. However, before he can ask his question, Buck steps back from the oven and exclaims, loudly, "I gotta check something." He doesn't wait for an answer and bolts from the room. Brett narrows her cold eyes at Kelly, who falters under her stare. She doesn't say anything, but she follows after Buck, her wet clothes be damned.
Casey follows Brett with his eyes and waits before he asks, "So, what was that?" he asks, his eyes lingering in the direction Buck left. His tone isn't as friendly as before.
"I do not know," Kelly answers, not noticing the tone. "But I am going to find out."
The end for now!
Again, let you know what you think.
How long do you think it will be until Kelly figures out what he is feeling? LOL
