Hello!
Sorry it took so long. Just been distracted this last month by life, but I enjoyed writing this. Please let me know what you think!
Chapter 14:
A Big Step Forward
Years Prior
Evan has lost count to how places he has been sent or how many months he has put into this Seal training, the time blending together. Wait, has it been over a year? Evan has no clue, but what he can tell you is that everything hurts, and Evan means everything. While no one wants to ignore injuries, they happen, especially this close to the finish line. Evan, for example, tweaked his right shoulder two weeks ago, and it still fucken hurts as he never stopped to let it heal. However, it's all worth it when that SEAL Trident is pinned to his chest. While most can say the same thing, the pride that surges though Evan is intoxicating, and he can't help but puff out his chest in victory. Any guilt, worry or concern is gone, replaced by... He doesn't know how to describe it, but shit, he feels like superman.
For the next few hours—between celebrating with his newly minted Seal buddies-, Evan, standing high, chats with everyone and anyone who steps near him at the graduation, words exploding out of his mouth. He ignores the black, infinite pit in his stomach at seeing his fellow graduates celebrating with their smiling families. The love in the air is almost lethal with the longing in his gut that he shoves way down, way way down. He shakes his head, attempting to focus on the future.
Yes, he was given the opportunity to invite his family, but that thought barely lasted a second. The very idea of inviting his parents—his scowling father- kills his entire vibe and sends him down a treacherous rabbit hole. His parents aren't parents in any sense of the word, and they don't get to bathe in his happiness. His second thought goes to Maddie, but since she gave him the Jeep, they haven't talked, his postcards being the only form of communication between them. He has tried to contact her, but the calls went unanswered, and after weeks of silence, he gave up. He left home alone and will continue alone.
Granted, he's not alone. No matter what traitorous thought passed across his mind Evan is not alone. He hasn't been since he signed those enlisted papers those many moons ago. While many of those who attempted to earn that infamous Trident are gone, they each play an important part as to why he's still standing here. The camaraderie between them is life changing and goes far beyond anything that Evan can place to words. There's nothing they would not do for the other. So being part of this bigger family is an honor that Evan will treasure… even if he is sober.
At a nearby bar, the newly minted Navy Seals are celebrating their new tridents with beers… well, not exactly as Evan is just shy of his 21st birthday. He can only pout. "I'll be 21 in two months!" He pleads, holding up two fingers. Being the youngest of the group and the only one under 21, he bats his pretty blue eyes at the bartender, but she's immune to his flirty glaze, a resistance most likely built up from all the over-the-top servicemen who patron the bar. When they get back to the barracks, Evan will forget about the stern 'Nice try Buddy' he received, but for now, he's a bit bitter for being the only sober person at the table.
Grant, it's probably wise to have at least one sober person. However, it sucks ass for Evan. To get into the spirit and to feel included, he goes through the motions with his "zero proof" drinks. Matching his comrades' loudness, Evan downs a gunner—a mixture of lemonade and ginger ale with a dash of bitters—and lets out a cheek hurting grin. "Yum."
"Poor Buckley. I'll drink for you." The Sailor to his left rises his own beer before bringing it to his lips. Having one too many drinks, he misses his mouth on the first try.
As Evan watches Miller jab himself in the cheek with his beer and promptly spill on himself, he's grateful that he isn't sloshed. Being covered in alcohol does not sound appealing, and he won't miss that. "At least, I know where my mouth is." He snorts into his drink, earning a round of chortles from the rest of the guys. A round of playful insults follow from the group, directed at Miller.
"I know where my mouth is." Miller winks at Evan, who just rolls his eyes and quickly turns away.
Evan doesn't respond, treating those comments like a plague. Too close to the truth. However, someone else takes the bite. "No one wants to know where your mouth has been." From there, the conversions went off into mumbles, ranging from insults to statement of disbelieves. It takes an hour before the insults settle down and the talks of teams comes up, each wondering where they'll be placed.
"Any preferences?"
While Evan has no preference to where he's stationed, there's one thing he's hoping for: to serve under Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. Due to the Commander's awe-inspiring, takes no shit reputation, a spot on his team is highly coveted. "Nope." He lies. "I'm good anywhere. We'll be sardines on a ship anyhow." He pauses. "There're 288 battle force ships, 10 aircraft carriers, nine amphibious assault ships, 22 cruisers, 62 destroyers, 17 frigates, 72 submarines and 3,700 aircraft. Over 40 Naval Bases, so may places to end up."
Miller rolls his eyes before lets out a puff. "Of course, Buckley knows this."
Evan takes a big slip of his drink to hide his reddening cheeks. While there's nothing to be embarrassed about, at times he feels like a kid in over size shoes when he overzealously shots things out. Random facts have always been one of his odd quirks, inadvertently instilled in him by Maddie. He may not be in the smartest, but he loves learning new things, exploring the world with Maddie. "You never know what'll save you." He sticks his tongue out before he gets up for another drink.
*O*O*
So, the downside of being the only one under age—besides being sober—is babysitting the drunks on the way back to the barracks. Between getting distracted by everything they see and trying to rip off their uniform, the time it takes to get back to Base has double. His Navy Seal training has not prepared him for this. It's like herding cats, and when he finally gets them in their beds, he's wonder how fucked they are. The Navy seals are getting some big whiny babies- Okay, only when drunk. Some got a little handy too, which no one besides Evan will remember.
After making sure everyone no one is going to make a bigger fool of themselves, Evan steps out and basks under the moonlight. If he had had a few drinks, the chill in the air would be nothing to him, but it nips at his skin and sends a chill down his spine. With his arms out wide, he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, breathing in the icily air. He has taken moments throughout the day to knowledge the fact that he actually made it, but this is his first time alone… Or so he thinks.
"What're you doing, Buckley?"
Though he recognizes the voice, Evan finches at the sounds of footsteps and drops his hands to the side. "Commander McGarrett," he greets, his heart beating his chest. A second passes before Evan can slow his beating heart as he raises his hand to salute, which the commander waves off. "Sir."
"It's just us."
Evan nods as he faces the uniformed Commander. "Ok." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "How can I help you, Sir?"
McGarrett shakes his head while saying, "Drop the Sir. This is a night of celebration, Buckley." Glancing around, he carefully and meticulously scans the grounds before he waves Evan over and reaches into his chest pocket.
"S—McGarrett," Evan shutters over his words.
"SSHHH, keep it down." With a free hand, the commander horizontally bats down at the air, as he pulls out a whiskey flask and shakes it. "Come." After leading Evan away from the barrack and toward a darken building, McGarrett motions to the steps. "Sit, Buckley."
Cocking his head to the side at the odd order, Evan slowly makes his way to McGarrett, his mind spinning. "I…Um…What?" His eyes bouncing from the flask to the grin on the Commander's face. "What is this?"
McGarrett unscrews the top of the flask and takes a slip before offering it to Evan. "It's time for celebration."
"Si—" Evan shakes his head. It doesn't take a genius to know what's in it. "I'm not 21."
His smile grows and stretches across McGarrett's face. "I won't tell if you won't." He offers it again to Buckley. "Besides, if you can pull a trigger, you're old enough to drink in my eyes." His head bobs left to right, chewing on a thought. "Plus, in most of the places you'll find yourself at, it'll be legal."
For a second—just a second-, Evan wonders if this is a trick, but he tosses that idea away as fast as it appears. Commander McGarrett has been nothing but supportive, being that push that Evan needs. "Did you know that Burkina Faso is the country with the youngest drinking age? 13 years." He says as he reaches for the flask in McGarrett's outreached hand.
"Oh, really?" This isn't the first time that Evan has spewed random facts at McGarrett, but each time, he earns s a cheeky grin.
"Yup. I'll probably be dead if our drinking age was 13." Evan laughs into the flask, while he settles down next to McGarrett on the steps. This isn't the first time he has drunk, but the whiskey burns its way down, warming him from the inside out. Shit, Evan curses in his head. This is the good stuff. The kind stuff that can get you real drunk, real fast. "I can't imagine drunk 13-year-olds." He coughs out. The very though gives him nightmares.
McGarrett's eyes linger on Evan for a moment before flickering to the barracks. "Just spend the night in the barracks."
Evan snickers. There is no truer statement. "I guess it's something to look forward to since I'm not lucky like you." He takes another slurp before he hands the flask back to the commander, who takes immediately takes a drink. Evan's glaze falls to McGarrett's throat, eyeing the gulp on its way down. He tosses a few words around in his head before he settles with, "Thanks for this."
"No thanks is needed, Buckley." He beams, lowering the now half empty flask. "We're family now and I couldn't let you celebrate alone."
Family. The word echoes loudly in Evan's head, bouncing painfully off his mental's walls. "Family?" A pause. "What?"
"What?" McGarrett replies playfully, as he shoots Evan a pointed smile. He swings his arm up and strongly grasps Evan on the shoulder. "You didn't think I wouldn't snag you for my team? I only want the best, and I'm not above cheating." His smugness just rolls off him.
As Evan eyes the cheeky grin on the Commander's face, he can see why he rubs certain people the wrong way, but there is something about McGarrett that draws Evan in. Something is oddly enthralling about this cockiness, and while Evan doesn't know where this road will take him, he'll follow this man. "Commander." He utters in shock.
"I think that is another cause for celebration. Don't you think?" He rises the flask into the air before saying, "Hoo-Yah!" and taking a big swig. While wiping away the excess from his lips with the back of his right, he hands it back to Evan.
The chill from the air is suddenly gone and Evan feels light when he takes the flask back. He echoes, "Hoo-Yah!" as he finishes it off. No matter how much he drinks, it still burns on the way down, and God, Evan would love for some more.
*O*O*
Present
Buck is a different man after his hot shower, his doubts going down the drain with the dirty water. He almost jumps right back into the shower and stays under the searing droplets, but the cold water chases him out, not that it saves him. The chilly air of his apartment slaps him on the ass as soon as he steps out. On good days, he's lucky if he gets 15 minutes of hot water before he's assaulted by an arctic blast. While today is not a good day for hot water, the shower is still amazing. Nothing compares to being clean after a long, stressful day (Yes, day even if it isn't 5 yet). So, he stands there, butt ass naked, in the middle of his small bathroom, allowing the water drip down his skin, and basks in it.
A few long minutes pass before he can motive himself to move, though that is more to do with the knock at the door than his will. Buck lets out a whining groan on the second knock and reaches for the blue towel on his sink. He quickly wraps the towel around his waist and secures it as tight as he can before he reaches for a second one—white. With his eye violently twitching at another knock—this one louder and hard-, he almost gives himself a towel burn on the top of his head in frustration. After he is satisfied that his hair is dried enough not to drip, he wraps the towel around his neck and heads to the door.
"Coming." He hisses when yet another knock echoes throughout the apartment. Mindful of the towel on his waist, he quickly makes his way to the front door, his footsteps heavy. Yanking the door open, he exclaims loudly and accusatory, "Yea?!"
Adam Ruzek cocks his head to the side and gives Buck a once over. "Just me." He puts his arms up in surrender. "Just wanted to check in on you."
Buck eyes the officer for a second before turning to the side and lets Adam in. "Fine." He motions to the inside of his small apartment. "Come in."
With a nod—his hands buried into his pockets-, Adam strolls in, his eyes flickering to each tattoo on Buck's skin. "Do you always open the door while naked?" he asks, his eyebrow in his hairline.
There're many things that Buck is bashful over, being shy over his body is not one of them. Between being a Seal and a firefighter, Buck has lost his bashfulness, and now, it's just skin. Sinful sweet skin. "It's my place." He replies as he closes the door. "I can be naked If I want to. Besides," he shrugs, "being naked burns fat and increases your immune system."
Adam shots him a skeptical look. "Oh, really?"
"Yup," Buck pops out his button lip, his glaze dropping to his feet for a moment. "Take a seat. I'll be back." Already feeling raw and exposed in front of Adam without being naked, he doesn't want the towel to be the only thing covering him. Nodding, he turns and points in the direct of his room. "I'll get dress." He doesn't bother to close his bedroom door and goes to his dresser. Not caring what he grabs, he takes what's on top: an old blue LAFD T-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts. He forgoes underwear and rewraps the towel around his neck, while tossing the other on the bathroom floor.
With a big puff of air, Buck heads back out to the living room, his eyes going right to Adam on his sofa. He really doesn't know what he's feeling, but there's a rotten feeling in his gut when he realized the invite was a part of the cover. Adam is doing his job, which Buck can't fault him on. "So, what's up?" he asks, as he turns and heads to the refrigerator. He grabs the egg sandwich from his neighbor, and without bothering to heat it up, he haphazardly unwraps it, not caring about the pieces of the eggs that drop to the ground. He takes a few big bites.
"That's a nice tattoo." Adam shots out, initially dodging the question.
Mouth full, Buck's eyes drop to the tattoos on forearms. "Which one?"
"The one on your upper, inner bicep."
It takes a moment for Buck to realize which one Adam is referring to, as it's currently hidden beneath his tight sleeve. "Thanks." He replies unevenly. He doesn't like to think about the story behind it.
A tense beat passes before Adam goes, "So, who you lose?"
Buck may not have a decade long Navy Career under his belt like some people he knows, but after a bad op (losing one of their own in the field), the group of them got tattoos. Most went large, while Buck got a medium size bone frog with a trident on his inner bicep to honor their fallen Seal. "A friend." he breathes after a tense moment. Most haven't seen the tattoo, as it's hidden beneath his sleeve or invisible when his arms are down. The ones who did either don't understand the meaning behind it, or Buck explains it away by saying he got it prior to skipping out. He doesn't talk about the man who the tattoo honors. Eddie has seen it a few times while they work out, and Buck could see the gears turn in his partner's head, but the former Soldier never poked, accepting Buck's false rejection story.
"Never gets easier." A dark shadow passes over Adam's face.
"Nope." Buck pops put the 'p'. No matter how much time has pass he can still taste Miller's blood on his tongue. While it is a pointless battle to drown out the copper taste, Buck takes another bite, stuffing his cheeks full of eggs.
Again a few tensed seconds pass before Adam suddenly leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry about earlier. I should've told you." Shifting uncomfortable in his seat, the officer huffs. "I wasn't thinking." His entire right face twitches. "Just itching to get this guy, but that doesn't change the fact that I should've asked."
"Yes, you should have." Buck pauses. "I would've said yes." It's the honest truth. Even if Buck hesitated at first (he isn't a cop), he would—will still have said yes. What that says about him isn't something Buck wants to think about, and he takes a bite to stop himself from saying stupid anything.
Adam meets Buck's eyes, scanning for something. The corners of his eyes crinkle as something flashes before Adam's eyes. "Nevertheless, it's my bad." He pauses. "I fucked up, and I get it."
Buck isn't sure what exactly Adam 'gets', but judging by his gentle, soft tone, it's sincere. "It's okay."
"No." Adam says strongly, as he locks eyes with Buck, refusing to allow him to look away. "When I say I get it, I mean it." He exhales as he turns away. "I love being a cop. Wouldn't want to be anything else, but there're times where I feel less then…" He drifts off "…Human." He breathes out. "I can't imagine what it's like to have served, and to have it thrown back at you… One of my co-workers, Detective Halstead, who has also served- Army-, has enlightened me. I'm sorry."
"Thank you." Buck's heart settles. While it doesn't change anything, it does help to hear it.
"Something I'll keep in mind for next time."
Those words hang heavily and uncomfortably in the air, which has the gears in Buck's head spinning. A few responses get toss around in his head, but he settles with, "A repeat performance?" That comes out sounding rather sour.
Judging by the Adam's pinched face, he is regretful. "Again, sorry, but Dom has been pushing as you interest him. I couldn't say no, not without setting off some alarms. However, this time will be different." He brings up his hand, making 'an Inch' motion with his fingers. "We're this close to catching him."
Once more, Adam is lacking on the details, which leaves Buck grateful that Boden has his back, ready to go angry papa bear. He hopes the Chief will get some answers. "That's good." He stuffs the last bite into his mouth and balls the aluminum foil. While the cold sandwich leaves more to be desired, it hits the spot. The roar in his stomach dissipates.
A painful, awkward silence falls. Minutes pass before Adam huffs. "After this, I'll taking you to Molly's."
Buck's eyebrow rises. "What?"
"I'll going to make it up to you."
"You already said sorry."
Adam nods slowly before he says, "I did, but it isn't a true apology until we drink a round of beer together."
For Buck, Adam already told him what he needs. Drinks are unnecessary, but Buck is tempted. At first, he thought he could handle it, him alone in his apartment, but recent events make that a clear falsehood. "I'll think about it."
*O*O*
This night out isn't planned, but Buck can't sit in his apartment and do nothing, not tonight. The 'little' chat with Adam brought up some memories of Miller, and there's an itch running across his entire body. Without allowing himself to think, he gets dressed and books it out of his apartment. In a pair of black cargo pants, a long sleeved burgundy checkered shirt, and a dark Denim jacket—rolled up to the elbows-, Buck pulls up to Molly's and parks across the street, a few cars down from the entrance. His nerves on fire, he grasps the steering wheel in a vice grip. After receiving several invites to Molly's, it feels odd to be sitting outside now, like he's breaking some kind of law. Yes, he's opening up more, but a part of him still wants to close himself off.
It feels like there are rats trying to burst out from his stomach when he reaches for the doorknob. It's so striking that Buck pulls back like he has been burned. His heart is thumping in his ear, and the rapid beating is the only thing he can hear. Whatever this is, Buck can do without it. For heck sakes, he's a former Navy Seal and a current CFD firefighter, each occupation putting his life in danger every time he suits up. Yet, he's a basket of nerves at the thought of walking into the bar. What the hell is wrong with him?
Buck squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, practicing the breathing techniques that he learned in BUDs. For a second, it works. His mind clears, and his heart slows, though that only lasts for that second, as his brain betrays him by flashing a smiling Kelly Severide. The air in his lungs suddenly vanishes, and his chest is tight. Though Buck didn't respond to Kelly's text, he is on the other side of that red door. His mustang is three cars over, but that isn't the on vehicle from 51, which isn't surprising. The bar is owned by 51 firefighters. There's no other place they would be.
You would think that would make Buck feel comfortable, as 51 feels like Home or what will become home given time. However, it's different outside of the station; the gloves are off when they are off duty. Okay, the logical part of Buck knows that's horse crap, as none of these 51 members seem like the type to pity him. Yet, the bruise, shatter part of him, created in his final days at the 118, tells him otherwise, and it shrieks whenever someone gets too close. It's almost-
Suddenly, there's a loud rattle on the driver side window, a ripple running through the glass. "Shit," Buck exclaims loudly, his vice grip finally letting up.
At the window, an apologetic Sylvie Brett stands outside his driver side door and waves. "Sorry." She smiles softly. "Didn't mean to scare you." She mouths loudly, her voice somewhat muted through the glass.
It takes a moment to shake the jitters from his system, and another to collect his thoughts. It's too late to drive off now, not without looking crazy. With a deep breath, he reaches for the driver side door and pushes it open, Brett automatically stepping back. A force smile on his face, Buck steps out of the door and goes, "It's fine, Brett. Just thinking." Once he is clear, his hands go to his pockets, hunching over ever so slightly.
"Sylvie," she interjects, her smile sparkling.
"What?" he utters as he straightens up, closing his door with his hip.
"Call me Sylvie."
Sylvie has aways been a bright beacon for Buck at the 51, always counteracting the negative voices in his head. Heck, he is speechless at times with her. "Okay, Sylvie." He smiles back, feeling more relax.
Her eyes in soft points, she gives him a once over, clocking his nerves. Yet, there's no pity. "Coming to Molly's?"
Buck doesn't answer quickly, even though the answer isn't going to be no. "…Yes," he says after a beat.
"Good, everyone will love to see you. I think you racked up enough drinks to drink for free." Sylvie's glaze flicker to Molly's door front, eyeing a laughing couple going in.
That's quite the understatement. Buck has received quite a few drinks offers since joining the CFD, but he never took anyone up on them. He probably won't accept half of them, though he won't get away without a couple free beers tonight. "You think Herrmann will remember his offer."
Sylvie laughs. "Sure, but he'll play dumb at first."
No matter if he gets a free drink or not, that actually sounds enjoyable. God, if there's just one thing he misses, it's the banter. He just loves the back and forth, the playful jests between teammates. "Does he do that often?"
"Just when it comes to money and Molly's. Anything else, he will give you the shirt off your back."
Buck laughs. "Can't judge him for that. A firefighter will drink you out of house and home if you let them."
"Yup." Sylvie replies.
A second passes as Buck glances over his shoulder toward the bar and zeroes on the soft roar that echoes out from it. His resolve may be wavering and a part of him wants to dive back into his car, but it feels like a step back to normalcy, to the goofy man that he is. "You ready?" he asks, changing the topic slightly and offering an arm to her. If he doesn't do this now, he will chicken out.
The paramedic stares at the extend arm for a second before she nods and takes it. "Let's go. I got some eye candy to show off."
"Arm candy?" Buck's cheeks hurt smiling so hard.
"Have you seen yourself? Look at these things. So yes, arm candy." She pats him on the arm.
There's a 'right back at you' on the tip of his tongue, because Sylvie's a very beautiful woman, and any men would be lucky to have her—not that her worth is based on her beauty. She's a full package. Captain Casey just needs to get his head out of his ass. "I don't know about that."
Sylvie beams at him. "Just wait." She winks, while giving him a pointed stare, as she leads him across the street.
*O*O*
Kelly leads across the bar, his eyes drilling into his second bottle of beer, as he tries to ignore the uncomfortable sensation in his gut, while Casey sits next to him, staring a hole into his cheek. The sadness in Buck's voice was—still is- so striking that Kelly still feeling nauseous thinking about. Kelly takes a personal offense to the loneliness in Buck's eyes. "So, Boden finally reached Voight, and from what I hear, it wasn't pretty." he states, picking at the label.
Casey's eyes flicker away. "Yea. Boden set up a meeting with Ruzek, Voight, Buck, and me on our next shift."
"Good." While he understands why he isn't included, Kelly's a little grumpy that he doesn't have an invite to this meeting. Buck told him. He should be there for support.
"Soo…" Casey starts. "You and Buckley."
While Kelly kept certain parts of Buck and his conversation to himself, Casey has been poking fun at him, zeroing in on the fact that Buck called Kelly. Kelly is quite happy Buck called him, and nothing Casey says will make him embarrassed of it. "There's nothing to talk about. It's-"
The red door to Molly's swings, and Brett strolls in like she won the lottery. She's not alone. On her arm- or is it the other way around- is Buck, who has a large smile on his face as he gazes down at her. A known—yet still surprising—feeling spikes up in side of Kelly, stabbing him in the side, even if he knows it's unwarranted. He isn't an idiot. He knows Sylvie and Matt are dancing around each other, just waiting for the other to make the first move. (Casey should be grateful Kelly doesn't taunt him about it.) Grant, he gives them too much credit as they are both completely clueless.
Yet, that isn't the real reason why his stomach is in nuts, and no, Kelly isn't as clueless as Brett and Casey. He knows exactly what this is, this hunger. His field testing tells him enough: it's all about Buck, and shit, if this reaction isn't enough, nothing else will be. Except for the few times that Kelly beat him to the station, he hasn't seen Buck in civvies—shirtless once or twice-, but not civvies, and God… Those black pants hugs Buck's butt just right. Shit, he curses at the twisting in his gut. Like he doesn't believe his eyes, Kelly blinks his eyes a few times; however, when the image doesn't vanish, he just drinks in the sight. It's just—
"Oh, it's nothing?" Casey hums, his head suddenly in Kelly's peripheral.
Kelly turns his head ever so lightly, his eye twisting. "Right back at you." he counters, strongly, as he reaches for his beer and downs it. Casey's grin just irks him. He slams the empty bottle down with a huff. Kelly twists in his chair and shots Casey a dirty look. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks, pulling at his collar. Did it just get hot in here?
"I do not know what you are talking about?" Casey says as his smile just gets loopier.
"Oh, Buckley!" Herrmann squeals when the Molly's owner spots the two. "Good to see you, man! What a nice surprise."
Buck's head zips to the bar and grins, as he meets Herrmann's grin. "Howdy." His voice is barely utterable over the soft chatter of the crowd.
Herrmann points to an empty seat at bar. "Sit. Sit. I can finally get you that drink I owe you!"
Fully aware of how closely Casey is eyeing him, Kelly straightens his shirt and goes to stand to meet Buck and Brett, but Casey leads forward, halfway standing, and puts a firm hand on his best friend's shoulder, pulling him back down. He shakes his head. There's a half of dozen things he's itching to say to Casey, but he, settling down in his seat, reaches for beer before he remembers that it's empty. He grumps to himself as he waves down Stella and waves the bottle at her.
"Oh, my. Herrmann going to give someone a free drink?" Capp shouts out from next to Kelly
"This is just a reward for saving my life." Herrmann points a sharp finger at Capp. "Don't get any bright ideas."
Buck, an adorable thick flush working up the back of his neck, slowly takes a seat a few stools down from Capp. "I…don't… Um…" He fumbles over his words.
"I hear the list of people who owe you a drink is long," Kelly interjects loudly over Capp, who looks none so amused by the shout. Ignoring the glare from Capp, he's focused on Buck, though he can feel Brett's heavy glaze on him.
Herrmann snaps the cap off the beer and slides it over to Buck. "Yea, well, just as long as you redeem those drinks here." He's being completely serious, but it still draws some laughs. "What? We firefighter got to support each other."
"By buying drinks?" Capp interjects, giving Herrmann a confused glance.
"Huff it," Herrmann playfully hisses. "I got a business to run."
Buck's eyes dances between the two members of 51. "Makes sense. Only about one-third of businesses last ten years. You got to do what you got to do."
Kelly doesn't know if Buck spouting off random facts is a defense mechanism or if he's simply fascinated by random facts. Either way, he enjoys the small, proud smile on his face whenever he says one.
"See. See. Thanks Buckley. That's what I'm talking about." Herrmann waves at Buck. "I need to protect my business." He puffs out his chest.
"What are you protecting it from, Herrmann?" Casey asks. His eyes flicker to Brett, lingering for a while, and softens.
Herrmann gives them each a sharp, pointed look that screams 'really?' "You, assholes, will all eat me out of house and home." He challenges, pointing a finger at each of them.
"Oh, we would never do that." Capp counters, as he slides his empty beer forward. Herrmann sends daggers.
"For some reason, I doubt that." Stella appears suddenly in front of Kelly and injects. Smoothly and gracefully, she slides a fresh beer in front of the Lieutenant before she walks away, and squeezes pass Herrmann for a clear liquor bottle on the shelve behind him. "Anyhow, how are you, Buck?" There's a sparkle in her eyes as she gives him a once over. "How's are you liking Chicago? I hear you only been in the city for a few months."
Buck shifts in his chair as he takes a slip from his beer. "Yea, but I hadn't ventured out much yet."
Brett places a hand on Buck's forearm and squeezes. "Well, we should plan an outing."
No, Kelly is not jealous. He's not. While Buck has accepted his offer to explore Chicago, the Ex-Floater has yet to put the trigger. Granted, it has barely been a day. Besides, Buck-
"Oh, what outing are we doing?" Foster pops up next to Brett and asks, a Chester smile on her face. "Dancing?" She shuffles back and forth between her left and right to imagery music. "There's this new hot nightclub."
"I like that idea." Stella hums as she turns back down the bar with the liquor bottle. "Hold that thought." Her glaze falls on the customer at the end of the car.
His attention changing, Kelly's glaze follows Stella, just watching her, as she mixes a drink and sets it down in front of the customer. There's a smile on her face as she chats up the flirty man. She gives him one final laugh as she slides him a napkin before she turns back and rejoins the conversation. "So, when are we going dancing?" Stella asks as she wiggles pass Herrmann once more and leans across the bar.
"Wait. Wait. Wait?" Capp puts his hands up. "So, how is it a Girl night if Buckley tags along?"
Foster rounds Brett and leads over her right shoulder. "I feel like Buckley will be an awesome wing man." She winks at him before she looks to the other paramedic and adds, "It has been too long since we had a night out at the clubs."
"Uh," Buck utters as he sits back in his chair, his eyes flickers between the two.
Kelly blinks, wondering what he missed in the last few minutes. He heard Foster mention dancing, but a girl nights out with Buck? How long was he distracted by Stella? Though, that's a moot point if he goes by Buck's expression. Kelly doesn't know what type of guy he's, not that he will criticize the man. He can't, not with the line of women he has left in the dust. Shit, there're nights that he doesn't even remember, totally backouts. So no, he will not judge Buck for the type of man he is… well unless he hits old grandmas, but he totally doesn't seem like the type.
However, Kelly digresses. The fact is that Buck doesn't look thrived by the prospect of picking up random people at a bar gets to Kelly. "I don't know. That's sound scary." He interjects, ignoring the pointed, narrow stare from Foster.
Casey nods mindlessly, arms folded across his chest with a beer in hand. "I think being stuck in a car with you is scary."
Kelly twists and glares at his best friend. "I think living with you is scary."
"I think it's scary to work with you two," Herrmann interjects.
Capp's glaze shifts between everyone. "You all scare me." he shouts out, as he rises his glass.
"Right back at you." Stella replies.
"Lies, I'm adorable." Capp gives her a giant smile.
The tension in Buck's shoulder is gone, a loopy smile on his face, and Kelly settles back into his chair. The change of topic goes over Kelly's head as he watches Buck engage with everyone around him. It is just a wonderful to see how the nerves just roll off Buck with each minute that passes by.
*O*O*
Kelly finishes his beer and waves good-bye, ignoring the silly smile directed at him by Stella. Buck had said his byes and skipped out a minute ago after Foster once again offering to show him the night life. While Kelly normally wouldn't leave so soon, he wants to catch Buck before he leaves to check in on the man. Though Buck seemed good for the few hours he sat at Molly's, he hasn't offered up much, but he did join the conversation, which is a plus. Granted, seeing Buck in Molly's is a huge step forward.
The chilly air hits Kelly as soon as he steps out of Molly's, and honestly, it's a relief. While Herrmann keeps Molly's at a cool temp, it felt like it was 90 degrees in there. His skin is tacky and sweat, and he just wants to bathe in chill for a moment, though only for a moment. His internal temperature becomes a second thought, when he spots Buck at his Jeep, and Kelly makes a beeline over, nearly getting hit by a car. The driver blares his horn, but the horn doesn't register to Kelly. "Buck, hold up!"
Buck's head pops up, his eyes wildly searching the street. "Kelly?" he utters, as he straightens himself.
Kelly jogs to the sidewalk, his eyes never leaving Buck. "Hey." He replies, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.
"Um?" Buck's eyes dash to Molly's door for a second as he nervously begins to swirl his Jeep keys on his index fingers. "Did I forget something?"
Once again, Kelly gives Buck a once over, noting again how nice he looks in that dark denim jacket. "No. No. I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing." He takes a hesitate step forward, dragging his fingers on the top of the jeep. "You looked iffy when Foster brought up dancing and you being a wing man. Don't like clubs or something?"
Buck's blues eyes meet Kelly's and shakenly holds them for a moment. "I…Um…" His cheeks go rosy. "You…um…see." He pauses as a glimpse of fear crosses his eyes. "No, I…um…" He bits down on his lip. "I don't know if I'm ready for it." He must've seen Kelly's guesting stare as he lets out a heavy breath and leans against his jeep. He buries his hands into his pockets and look up at the dark sky. "Don't want to fall into old habits. Don't want to become Buck 1.0 again."
"Buck 1.0?"
Buck exhales a large puff of air, his eyes glassing over. One second passes. Two seconds pass. Three seconds pass. Whatever this is, Buck is ashamed by it.
Kelly follows Buck's lead and lean against the Jeep with him, his eyes to the sky as well. With a grin, he teases, "I thought we already discussed this, Ev. We need to go away to see stars." His eyes squeezing shut, Buck falls back and just laughs. It's gorgeous and Kelly needs a second to think before adding, "Cities and night glazing don't mix. We can't see the twinkles here."
"Did you know stars don't twinkle? It's Earth's atmosphere. As the light from a star passes through the atmosphere, it passes through many layers of rapidly differing density. This deflects the light, like a ball in a pinball machine." Buck removes his hands from his pockets and waves them in the air. It isn't clear at first, but he's pretending to be playing a pinball machine. "The light eventually gets to your eyes, but every deflection causes it to change slightly in color and intensity. The result is twinkling."
"You're a ball of knowledge, aren't you?" Kelly acknowledges, fondly. Again, Buck goes red. "Which I think is cute." He adds quickly. Buck's head turns, his eyes scanning every inch of Kelly's face. Silence falls, not that a Chicago Street is truly silent. There's something in Buck's eyes that strikes Kelly in his gut.
Suddenly, Buck shakes his head and looks off in a different direction. "Buck 1.0 isn't something I'm proud of." He pauses.
"It's okay, Evan." Kelly says, unconsciously switching to Buck's first name. "I hold no judgement."
Buck's eyes flicker to Kelly for a spilt second before his glaze falls to his feet. "I had a sex a—" He stops himself, shaking his head. "Buck 1.0 is stage of my life when I hid behind sex. Pretty much had sex with anything that moved. I'm not stupid." The resentment in Buck's voice is suffocating. "I know now that I masked my pain in sex, enjoying the taste of flesh. I… a-almost lost my job over it…No, I did lose my job. My Fire Captain in Los Angeles did fire me over it." He painfully huffs as he violently shakes his head.
"I got my job back by some miracle." He glances up at Kelly, trying to read his mind. "Got into therapy. Fixed out my issues." He bobs his head back and forth with a weak smile. "Well, most of them. I think we all are fucked up in some way. Anyways, the point is that I slept my way through LA trying to hide-"
"Trying to hide from your loneliness." Kelly finishes, recalling their conversion from this morning. Just like that, it hits him like a ton of bricks. Buck's so lonely that he doesn't trust himself not to fall into his old ways. Everyone gets lonely, but for Buck to be this scared, his loneliness is be worse than Kelly thinks. "And you don't want to fall into old habits."
Buck takes a deep breath. "Yea." He says simply, keeping his eyes down. His shoulders are hunched over.
Kelly reaches over and squeezes Buck in the shoulder. "Hey, look at me." Nothing. "Look at me." he orders, softly. It feels like hours, but Buck eventually looks up and meets Kelly's eyes. "None of what you told me changes anything." Yes, he's curious what exactly Buck did to get fire, but that's ancient history and has no bearing on today. "Heck, I'm pretty sure the same can be said about me. Just ask Cruz. He'll say I slept with half of Chicago."
Relief floods Buck's face at the sight of the grin on Kelly's face. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Kelly squeezes Buck's shoulder again. "Hey, my offer is still good. A tour of the city or… a movie night if you like that better. Or both. I'm here."
Buck stares at him, only blinking. "Y-yea, either sound goods." He finally shutters out.
Kelly hates that he brought Buck's mood down, but it feels like he finally got a wall down. How many more does that leave? "How about tomorrow? We explore Chicago. Just me and you." Kelly's heart skips on that, but he ignores it.
Buck tilts his head, his eyes drilling into Kelly. "Um… yea—yes." He states forcefully.
"Okay, tomorrow." Kelly smiles as his hands drop to his sides. "Let's start early. 10 O'clock okay?" It may early for their day off, but he wants to make sure they get through all the sights.
"Only if we fit the Gangsters and Ghosts Tour in."
"Yea, we can." Kelly responds, resisting the urge to hit playfully punch Buck in the should. "I will look up times when I get back to my apartment." He nods and turns from Buck, the excitement for tomorrow almost too great to focus. "I'll pick you up tomorrow." He doesn't give Buck time to object and heads to his car with grin on his face. One point for Kelly and no points for Foster and her dancing.
The end for now!
1) Since I have Buck being a Navy Seal, I wanted to give him a Navy Seal Tattoo, but I struggled in placement. Since Buck hid his Navy Seal career from the 118, I didn't want it too be too visible. I also didn't want it to miss up Buck's canon tattoo. I spent way too much time thinking of placement then writing this chapter. LOL
2) I have never been to Chicago, so I don't know what the sights are there. I could google search, but what are some places you think Kelly would take Buck? Let me know in the comments.
