Child Abusive warning.

If you wish to skip it, you can skip the "A long time ago." Near the end of the section, the mother slaps the son.

Chapter 22:

Pain and Pleasure

A long time Ago

In a specific—unnamed- city in the continental United States, there's a small, quiet neighborhood, known to be quite boring and dull. So boring in fact that the designers used the same floor model, and each house looks the same, only the front flowers differencing between each unit. While it is just a coincidence, even the families in each house look exactly the same, right down to their cars. It is a very cookie cutter type of neighborhood, where everyone gets 'along,' and no one fights. Problems are nonexistence. NO PROBLEMS AT ALL.

Even with the sun shining and the birds singing, it's something that the older teenagers complain about. They want some action and a hot juicy story where neighbor A is cheating with neighbor B, but no, the most exciting thing to happen in this suburb are random baseballs flying into a neighbor's yard and the neighbor grumpily returning it, a soccer ball getting run over by a car going a tad too fast, or children jumping up and down for a snow day knowing they can sleep in and attack people with snowballs. The neighbors are all normal and nice, friendly with everyone, and neighborhood block parties are common. It is perfect.

And yet, it isn't perfect. Nothing is perfect. Sure, to the naked eyes the neighborhood looks perfect, but it isn't. Every one of these families is hiding something, and in one of these picture-perfect houses with colorful flowers, the family is the exact opposite of perfect, the family of four hiding a story. A painful story that they keep hidden deep within themselves, locked by several impenetrable doors. It is something they will take to their graves, unwilling to let their pain see the light of day. Unwilling to let anyone see them as less than perfect. There would be no coming back if they open those doors and let it all out. However, there will be some heavy consequences for hiding this pain.

In fact, the young boy, the youngest member of the family, in that house is already suffering those consequences now as he sits alone in the corner of the dusty, unfinished basement. He has been down here for hours, hiding from his mother and his father… well mostly his mother. He can't tell you what he has done to set off his mother this time as she always explodes, throwing painful insults and colorful curses at him. Granted, it doesn't take much nowadays. The boy only has to glance in his mother's direction to piss her off, and there is no calming her once she gets into one of her moods. His father, while he doesn't scream, simply watches, never saying a single word in the boy's defense. The depressed boy doesn't know what is worse. Either way, the boy knows he does not have his father's loves.

Alone in the basement, it is days like this that the boy wonders why he was even born as it's clear that his parents do not want him. His mother looks at him with hallow eyes and sneers grimly as if she is seeing a ghost…or a demon more like it. It pains him to his very soul when she glares at him with such hate. It's a punch to the gut when he sees other kids with loving parents. Why can't his parents love him? Why do they hate him? Why did he have to be born into this family? How did his friends get loving parents when he did not? Why did God curse him with these people? Why couldn't he have parents who made him breakfast in the morning? Parents who helped him with homework every night? Parents who showed up to his games? Parents who actually gave a damn?

The boy lets out a wet, shaky sob as he curls deeper into himself, hiding his head in his knees; he tries to make himself smaller, both physically and mentally. He doesn't want to be anywhere right now, and he means that. He just sits there in the darkness for hours or what seems like hours. He wants to disappear into nothingness and leave this pain behind. He doesn't want to feel this anymore, but he doesn't, the heavy footsteps of his mother snapping hm back to his harsh reality. She still sounds like a raging bull, her anger dripping through the ceiling, as she thumps around like an ungraceful giant. Her anger is intoxicating, and the boy feels sick. His pounding heart is ready to jump out of his chest in fear, scared of what she was going to do. He straight ups panics thinking about it. Is she going to hurt him?

Attempting to breathe out his fear and anxiety, he sits there for a few more seconds pondering that sad, heartbreaking thought before he slowly unfolds himself to his full length. His outstretched legs are stiff as the blood rushes back through them, his toes tingling. He rolls his head in a full circle a few times, working out some fat knots from being motionless for a few hours. After his neck, he moves onto his shoulders and rolls them until he hears no cracks. "Okay," he mutters to himself as he finally gets to his feet. He doesn't move, his feet refusing to, and all he can do is to take a deep breath, which he does several times. While his legs are frozen, this stiffness is more mentally than physically.

The deal with moving is that moving means he has to deal with his reality, and he hates his reality, this fucked up reality. He hates this life. He hates parents. He hates this house. He hates this town. He hates this 'perfect' neighborhood. He hates the perfect families next door. He hates their smiling faces and their cute laughs. He hates how they… The boy lets out a pained angry huff. Okay, he—after taking a deep breath- doesn't hate the families next door. Rather, he is jealous of their happiness. He is jealous that the kids have loving parents who don't scream until their voices are gone. He is jealous that they share dinner together every night. Lucky, he sobs. He hates it when his mind does this: daydreaming about the neighbors. It always makes him feel worse.

Rocking back and forth on his feet, the boy let out a wet, pained huff when his mother's anger vibrates through the walls like a 7.1 earthquake. This time she directed this rage at his dad for some reason, and though the boy doesn't know why, he can guess. The boy has been keeping a list of things to avoid when in a mile radius of his mother, and no doubt his father's sin is on there. And with her favorite pouching bag there hiding, she takes it on her husband. Silly Dad. Granted with the list's length, it's nearly impossible to escape the wrath of his mother on certain days, and today is one of those days. The boy can't tell why today is worse, but his mother is an unusual beast today, which is saying something as she is always nasty.

The boy, as slowly and quietly as he can, makes his way up the old, creaky steps, flinching with each screech of wood. His right eye winces harshly when a random step croaks particularly deafeningly. He, his eyes on the basement door, freezes for a second, waiting for his mother's piecing scream. His weak, fearful heart races and his lungs excruciatingly strain for a breath of air that they refuse to take, as he waits for any sign of his mother. Hearing only silence (which is worrisome in its own way), the boy puffs out his chest and continues his slow climb up the steps. There is an intense fear hanging around, expecting the worse, but he, foolishly, is feeling better with each step as he hears nothing. When he reaches the door, he reaches out ever so slowly for the doorknob, which is ice cold in his hand, and freezes.

He takes a deep breath and strains his ears, attempting to hear any sign of his cruel mother, and when he doesn't hear her, he pushes the door open slowly and pops his head out and around the wooden door. His eyes in fine points, he scans the kitchen and the surrounding area looking for any signs of his life before he sets his eyes on the backdoor, his escape to freedom. Silently, he calculates the steps from behind the door and to the door, and feeling comfortable with the number, he jumps out and takes a single large step. However, it isn't that easy. It is never that easy for the boy. Just as hope fills him, it comes crashing down around him. Just when he takes another large step, his mother's screeching voice rings out.

"BOY!" she hisses as she steps into the kitchen. "Where were you hiding?"

The way she barks 'boy' sends shivers down his back, and his shoulders go stiff as he stares at the backdoor. Tears start to form in his blue eyes, but he does his best to shove them back down. Don't show weakness. Don't show weakness. Showing emotions will make this situation worse. His mother can smell fear. Yea, but me breathing does that too. He thinks sorrowfully, as the cracks in his heart deepen. Normally, the boy would drop his head and nod at whatever his mother says, having no will to fight, but a wave of impulsive crushing anger crashes over him and swallows him whole. "Out. Where do you think I am going? I am not staying here." he snaps as he spins around to face his mother. On the inside, he is shaking, but on the outside, he puts on his strongest glare and gives his mother everything he has.

His mother's eye twitches, and the corner of her lips turns up ever so slightly. "Watch that mouth, Boy." She demands.

"Or what?" The boy hisses back, his eyes glancing over his mother's shoulder to his stoic father who is silent as always. He finds himself viciously cursing his father in his head, angry at his lack of action. Suddenly, the sound of glass violently shattering echoes across the kitchen, snapping the boy's pained stare back to his mother. His heart in his ear, it takes a few long minutes for the boy to comprehend what his mother has just done. The violence she has just shown. She had reached out, grabbed the nearest thing, a glass vase, and slammed it to the ground. The shattered pieces had flown everywhere.

The mother takes a threatening step forward, her expression morphing into something maliciously unrecognizable. "You better watch that tone with me, Boy."

The father takes a large step forward, his hands in the air in a sign of surrender. "Easy, Honey. He didn't mean anything."

"That's a lie! I totally meant it." The Boy sharply and loudly replies. "I am escaping from you."

"An escape from me?" she gasps as she glares at him with so much hatred that the boy does a double take and steps back. "You know what?! I wished I could dump you somewhere and just leave you there. You were a failure. A total failure." His mother sneers.

No, this isn't the first time the boy has heard his mother say those nasty words and it won't be the last, but they hurt all the same. He knows his mother hates him, but it is another thing to hear it. "Well… I guess being a failure runs in the family, because I got it from you-" The pain is instance, stunning the child, as the mother swiftly brings her opened hand down onto his cheek, and the world just spins. However, before he can respond or comprehend what is happening, his mother raises her hand again and brings it back down.

*O*O*

Chicago

His eyes closed, Buck pops straight up in bed, a thin layer of sweat lining every inch of his body. A large, overpowering tremor vibrates through his entire body, locking his limbs into place, and he just sits there for a second, his thoughts in a jumbo mess. God, he hates that nightmare, a painful reminder of his past. No matter how much time has passed, it has a tight hold over him, and it is a solid minute before Buck's brain kicks itself back into reality, the reality that he is in his bed and not in some hell hole. "Breathe, 1…2….3," he tells himself, repeating it a few times. When he feels settled, he lets out a weary huff and slowly opens his eyes to greet the eyes. He takes another deep breath and-

"You okay?"

Buck stiffens for a second, as his mind unvoluntary lists every possible threat while his hand reaches for whatever is handy, before he remembers he isn't alone in the apartment. Steve Don't—tell—me—what—to—DO McGarrett has shown up randomly at his firehouse and has forced his way into his home, deciding to stay long term. Buck snorts thinking about. Okay, okay. It is not forced. He would've offered up his home to his former Commander in a heartbeat. That is what you do for your family.

"Kid?" Steve pokes, cocking his head to the side.

"Yea," Buck mutters. "Just a bad dream."

Steve swallows, his eyes locked in on Buck. "You want to talk about it?"

Buck doesn't answer right away as he breathes through that question. Should Buck talk about it? Yes. It will do him some good to finally get it out, but does Buck want to talk about it? No. Will he talk about it? No. Fuck no. Instead, he will just stuff that shit in a box and then hide it behind several locked doors, which is the Buckley Way. "No," he states firmly as he kicked off the sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. "No, I am good."

If Steve is surprised or shocked by Buck's stiff tone, he doesn't show it. "Are you sure?"

"Yup." He pops out the 'p'.

Steve stares at Buck, studying the man for a few seconds as if he is trying to determine how hard to push. "I made food. You want some?" he asks instead, not pushing.

Glad for the change of subject, Buck narrows his eyes, silently going over what he has in his refrigerator. While he tries to always eat healthy, there are times that he cannot, and it hasn't been easy due to his limited funds. He hasn't been able to stock up on the healthy options. "Did you go out to get food?" he asks, giving Steve a quick once over. The man is wearing his running shoes, a loose pair of dark jersey pants with a white Navy logo and a tight-fitting blue shirt with 'Navy' across his chest. As he gapes at the man, a few thoughts and/or questions pop up. 1) Did Steve go running alone in this neighborhood? Hopefully, he avoided Dom. 2) Did he really walk into a store all sweaty and jog all the way back carrying the food? 3) Does Steve own anything without the Navy logo? If not, did he buy out the entire store? 4) Why is Steve's shirt so tight? Does he own loose shirts?

"Yes. You have nothing." Steve deadpans. "I seriously don't know how you are alive."

With his downstairs neighbor, Isabel Jackson, giving him food, it is impossible for them to starve. "I say that about you every day. How are you alive?" Buck shoots back.

Steve dramatically rolls his eyes. "You want food or what?" he snaps back, playfully. "I can just eat it all myself."

"No! I want it, Sir," Buck teases, giving him a mock salute. Steve shakes his head and exits the room, leaving Buck alone to his thoughts for a moment. For a second, his thoughts flashes back to that nightmare, a nightmare that he hasn't had in a while, but with everything happening, his mind and thoughts have been stuck playing his 'greatest' hits, which he can do without. Buck shakes his head to clear his mind and jumps out of bed, forcing his thoughts to Steve's cooking. That does bring a grin to his face as Steve isn't bad in the kitchen. Maybe not Bobby level, but he can give the Captain a run for his money.

*O*O*

"So, when is the date?"

Buck freezes in mid motion, his hands deep in the dirty, soapy water. The sponge slips out of his grip, disappearing beneath the water. "What?" he articulates with his entire mouth, as his eyes are glued to the dirty pan.

"Your date with that smexy Lieutenant." Steve replies, calmly but with a devilish grin.

Buck suddenly loses the air in his chest, and an intense heat bubbles up into his cheeks. Yes, the famous date, and while Buck still doubts the existence of the future date, he can never forget the kiss, weak in the leg and scorching kiss. Even now, it makes him light headed. That kiss has ruined him, and if he cannot experience that kiss again, he will be devastated. He will be forever missing something. "What about it?" he asks slowly, as he searches for the sponge. "Nothing to talk about." He states forcefully. Once he finds it, he slowly starts to wipe the plate before he puts his full strength into scrubbing a precise spot.

"Soooo… when is it?" Steve asks, as he leans directly behind Buck, his eyes drilling into the back of the dirty blonde's head.

Buck's face goes completely blank, and he is entirely grateful that Steve can't see his loopy expression. "I…ahh…Umm…" Steve snorts, which Buck takes personally. It snaps him back. "Hey! That is an easy fix."

"Is it?"

Letting the plate slip from his hands and disappear beneath the waters, Buck whips around. "Yes." He answers, shakily, as his blue eyes drill into Steve, who is smug as ever.

"Yes?" Steve repeats with a grin, while giving Buck a knowing look.

A part of Buck is waiting for Kelly to realize that he isn't into guys and that this is all a mistake, which would crush Buck completely, but again, it is understandable. Stop, he tells himself. He can't allow that thought to fester, not that Steve would let him simmer in his misery. "Yes." He answers for the second time.

"So why is there no set date?"

Buck scrunches up his face as he quickly attempts to come up with a valid reason. Because…Because…because… His tongue is wrapped in knots. "I…um…waiting on-"

"Waiting on what?" Steve narrows his eyes at Buck, his lips turning up ever so slightly. "Waiting on you not being a chicken?" he teases, his devilish grin taking up his entire face.

There're a few things that can get Buck's blood pumping, and calling a him chicken is one of the quickest ways to drive Buck crazy. He is not a chicken. He is the opposite of a chicken. Someone who leaves home at 18 and joins the Navy is not a Chicken. Someone who runs into a burning building is not a chicken. So, no. He is not a fucken chicken. I don't know about that, his brain protests, loudly. Steve isn't wrong. You did run away from home because you couldn't handle the consequences of our own actions. "I am not a chicken." He protests, strongly. His blood is pumping, this heart thumping.

"Prove it."

Buck's right eye twitches. He can never turn down a challenge. "How do you want me prove it?"

"Why don't you set a date for this date?"

"What?" Buck stares at Steve, wide eyed and jaw hanging. His fight disappears.

Steve, snorting, rolls his eyes. "Call him and set a date… Or…" He draws out every letter. "You're a chicken."

A large, thick knot forms in Buck's throat, him already playing the would-be conversation in his head. There's no doubt that it will turn out exactly how he imagines it would. His cheeks redden in embarrassment, and his chest is tight and icy. He knows himself well enough to know he would be looking like a big fool, stammering the entire conversation, and that is not an attractive look. Kelly will think him an idiot. "He's the one who asked me out. It is on him to pick a date."

Steve's eyes narrow into fine points, and he stares at Buck for a moment before he gives him a dramatic eye roll. A second later, he pushes off the counter top and gives his best 'scared chicken' impression. Not kidding. He gives it his all. If Buck wasn't all red in the face and stiff as a board, he would be laughing at how goofy Steve is. The former Seal Commander has folded his arms into little wings and is flapping his arms like a chicken, and he is even bawking like a chicken. The now Cop flocks around the kitchen, getting louder and louder with each pass around buck. There is a smile on his face as if this isn't the stupidest thing Buck has ever seen.

"Fine!" Buck squeals as Steve pretends to peck and bawks directly into his ear. Frustrated, he bats at Steve in a failed attempt to get him away from his ear. "Fine! Just stop it. I'll text him." he announces, knowing he can't hold a conversation with Kelly when Steve is staring at him like that. Keeping his eyes locked on Steve, he reaches into his pocket and starts to dig around for his phone. It takes a several attempts for him to wrap his sweaty fingers around the smooth phone, the phone slipping from his grasp. Once he is confident that his phone is secured in his grip, he, with a cheeky smile, waves it at Steve before unlocking it and bringing up his text messages. This is where his cockiness and masks slips, and he freezes as he first attempts to form his text to Kelly in his head. His chest goes light as he can't look like an idiot in front of Kelly.

"You okay over there, Buckley?" Steve probes softly, his arms dropping to his side as he resettles against the kitchen counter. "Did you forget how to type?"

"Shut up." Buck's eye twitches violently, and he gives Steve the death glare before his eyes drop down to his lit-up phone. Steve, very dramatically, runs a finger across his lips as if he is zipping it shut. With a deep breath, Buck forces himself to type, knowing what will happen if he thinks for too long. However, no matter what he tells himself, it does take several attempts since as soon as he writes something, he deletes it immediately. Each time he does this, he can feel Steve's unnerving stare on him, tearing him apart. "Stop looking at me like that!" Buck takes a deep breath and tries a few more times. "Buy me dinner first." He mutters,

"Already did," Steve counters.

Huffing, Buck replies, "Smart ass," before he turns his attention back on the message. On the last attempt, he closes his eyes and punches the send button before he can over think it or before Steve can pop fun at him again. There's a mixture of emotions swirling through him as he reads over the message after the fact.

Buck: Hey, Kelly. We never set a date for our date. We should fix that.

"There. happy?" Buck asks as he waves phone, the screen lit, at Steve.

Steve squints his eyes at the phone. "I don't see a date."

What? "You know-" Buck starts before his phone beeps. His chest gets tight. "One second." He grunts as he looks down at the new message.

Kelly: No, we didn't. We need to fix that immediately.

The temperature in the room has shot up, and his legs are shaky. Buck takes a very deep breath, ignoring the pointed grin that Steve wears. Several possible days to come to mind, but only one jumps forward, only one feeling right. Although, the day does give him pause, and it scares him to throw out this date, but if he waits, he knows his nerves will get the better of him, which irritates him. He is a grown ass man, and this is just a date. It isn't like he is picking up a gun and going into battle.

His hands are shaking as he types, which shows in his spelling.

Buck: Hhow abuot tonight?

Kelly's response is instant.

Kelly: I will pick you up at six.

Buck's brain freezes, not expecting that response. While this response screams Kelly Severide, the lack of a yes and a discussion of a time steals his breath away. There is no hesitation in this man, which makes Buck's knees weak… well weaker. Puffing out his cheeks, he replies, his nerves high.

Buck: Yey. That wrks.

Kelly: Cant wait. Will see you soon. ?

For some ungodly reason, Buck can't stop smiling, his cheeks hurting from the strain. He can't see his own face, but there is no doubt that he looks like a damn fool, which Steve points out. "See. Look at that smile. You look so adorable."

Buck's grins drop and he shoots Steve a glare. While it is impossible for Steve to ruin his mood, he doesn't want to risk it. "Shut up."

"Are you two? Is that the only thing you can say?"

Huffing, Buck replies with, "Then hush!"

"Make me."

Steve's response slams through Buck's heated glare, and he breaks down laughing. Full on laughing. He's bent over, his chest hurting in the fit, and he can't stop. It isn't until a sharp pain stabs him in the side that Buck snaps out of it. Though, it takes a moment for him to collect himself, his lungs straining for air. From the lack of air, the room spins topsy turvy, and he viciously wobbles on his feet for a minute. A hand on his hip, he puffs out deeply and breaths through the pain. It takes a few seconds, but he gains full control of his body, though his heart is thumping. "We sound like children," he breathlessly says.

"Hmm. Are you sure you aren't just talking about yourself?"

Without saying a word, Buck shakes his head and returns to the soapy, kitchen sink. He ignores the playful snicker from his Seal Brother and dives back into washing the dishes... well, that is until a traitorous thought pops up in his head. Kelly, the sexy bastard, could wear a bag and still be gorgeous, but he's going to have to put some work into being sexy, and he is going to have to find the perfect outfit. "Shit." He curses. He isn't sure if that outfit currently exists in his closet.

Steve straights up and his expression hardens just a bit, sensing the mood change in Buck. "Is something wrong?"

Buck turns around, looking like a deer in headlights. "I need an outfit."

Rolling his eyes, Steve chuckles. "That's it? Geez. Here I thought we were going to war."

As if they are, Buck shoots Steve a wild, scared look before he dashes to his room. "Shit." Steve follows behind slowly, just shaking his head in disbelief as Bucks sings "Shit. Shit."

*O*O*

Steve, arms across his chest, sits on the old, paint-chipped window frame as he watches Buck wildly go through his closet searching for an outfit, though there are more clothes on the bed than in the closet at this point. Steve finds it quite comical to watch Buck pace back and forth between his closet and his bed, picking up and putting down a different set of clothes each time. "You know…" he starts slowly and carefully. He watches the twitch in Buck's back. "I don't know this Kelly guy well, but I say you skip the going out part and just stay in. That way you can do the naked thing."

Buck whips around, his eyes saucers. "What?"

"Well…." Steve draws out, a grin on his face. "Then you won't have to worry about what you're wearing."

"I…um…what…" If an expression ever perfectly reflected the blue screen of death stare, it is Buck's expression. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is on the ground. "That….ah… wou…." At that, the man just dies… Straight up dies. Okay, not dead, but Buck is as stiff as a board.

A large, fat giggle explodes from Steve's belly, and it takes him a second to settle himself. "Kid." He speaks softly and breathy. He pushes himself off the window frame and crosses to the Buck shaped statue in the center of the room. Steve shakes his head and lets out a deep huff before he pokes the younger man in the forehead with his index finger. "Breathe. Kid. Breathe." He gives Buck another once over. "There you go. Breathe."

It takes a few attempts before Buck's breathing evens out. After letting out a deep puff of air, he goes, "Don't put that image in my head." His cheeks are rosy, and his eyes are glossy.

Steve's expression goes soft, and he drops his teasing. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

Buck swallows thickly, memories flashing before his eyes. "I do." These words are heavy on his chest. "I really do."

"Okay." Steve nods with a smile, as he takes a step back. "I have no doubt that Kelly feels the same, which means there is no reason to stress or over think this. I originally joked about being naked to be an asshole, but from what I can tell, he won't care what you wear. So, for the first date, keep it simple and wear something you are comfortable in. You don't need to break any records or set a standard. Just have fun."

A second of silence passes as Buck reflects on Steve's statement, and though his stomach disagrees, Steve has a point. It is clear from recent events that they both like each other. They have already spent one-on-one time together. They laughed together. They fought fires together. While they don't know every detail about each other, they know each other. They didn't need to impress the other. Besides, while they don't consider it a date, they have a 'date' together. They did all the date things, which included staring at the other while the other wasn't looking. There was even a kiss even if Buck ran away like a… chicken. "I suppose you have a point."

Steve's eye twitches ever so softly. "You suppose?" he repeats with just a pinch of annoyance.

Buck smiles, a soft genuine smile. "Okay. You have a point. I don't need a three-piece suit."

"Not that you don't look in a three-piece suit."

Buck snorts. "I don't think anyone looks bad in a three-piece suit." He pauses for a second to think about it. "Nope. Can't think of a single person." Steve just laughs. "And if you do look bad," Buck continues, "It's because you, the wearer, doesn't have a good tailor."

"But what if they can't find one?"

"I will find them one," Buck says, puffing out his chest as if he is responding to a challenge. "Any how? What should I wear?"

Steve rolls his eyes and tosses some random ideas at Buck. "Just wear these. We have talked enough about clothes"

*O*O*

Kelly can't stop smiling as he darkens his phone, and if he was anyone else (Looking at you, Matt Casey), he would be skipping… Okay, he may still skip. He would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about how long it took for them to set an actual date. He kept asking himself if it was a bad sign. So to have a date, a date for tonight, is extremely exciting for Kelly, and he may jump right out of his pants from his excitement.

"What has you smiling like a damn fool?"

Turning slightly, Kelly glances over his shoulder toward the direction of the voice. "Just got a hot date tonight." He gives Casey the cheesiest smile that he can muster.

"You finally set a date with Buckley?" Casey asks, as he leans against the doorframe of Kelly's bedroom.

Kelly's smile changes ever so delicately as he thinks about Buck. Evan's smile shines even in his memory. There is no doubt that he is smitten by the former Floater with a heart of gold and rosy cheeks. "He did actually."

"Oh, good for him." Casey chuckles. "Do you need help to look pretty tonight? Or are you good?"

Rolling his eyes, he turns from his best friend and says, "No, I'm good. I know exactly what I'm going to wear." He can picture what he's going to wear perfectly. Besides, he is not worried as he knows he will look good in anything. He's more worried about what Buck is wearing as he isn't positive that he can control himself. God, that man has a beautiful ass.

"Cocky Asshole."

Kelly snorts. "Never denied that. I freely admit that." Casey snorts. "Anyhow, let me get pretty."

"Are you already pretty?"

"Prettier!" Kelly grins. It takes him more time than he expects to pick out an outfit, and it isn't due to him being indecisive. More so, he has no idea what he and Buck will be doing on this date. He doubts with such a late notice that this would be a fancy dinner date that requires a full suit, but other than that, it is a guessing game. Granted, Kelly has the perfect outfits for spontaneous dates. He is the king of spontaneous dates and looking hot. Kelly throws on a white Henley shirt with ¾ quarters sleeves- only buttoning two buttons-, a pair of gray moto jeans, and a pair of black boots. And just before heading out the door, he grabs a black leather jacket.

*O*O*

Kelly arrives at Buck's apartment with time to spare and sits there in his car for a moment. Mentally preparing himself, he scans the area, though he purposely ignores the drug deal going down at the corner. He's not a fan of the neighborhood, but it isn't his place to come in as a white knight. Not yet at least, his brain supplies. Not yet. Kelly takes a deep breath as he pushes that thought aside. Right now, he has a date with Buck, an actual date. A date where Kelly can hold Buck's hand. A date where Kelly can stare at Buck like a blushing teenager. A date where he can give Buck kisses. Yes, kisses. He can feel this excitement throughout his entire body.

Rubbing his hands together, Kelly takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out of his mouth. His chest still a bag of butterflies, he leaps out of his car and quickly makes his way up the steps. He sees a few curious stares pointed at him as he climbs the steps, and he waves at each of them. He gives each of them a sideways smile as well, focused on getting to Buck. He is on a mission. It only takes Kelly 5 minutes to climb the steps and make it to Buck's apartment door. Pausing at Buck's door for only a second, Kelly, while taking a deep breath, pulls at the edges of his jacket to straighten it out.

With a large smile, Kelly knocks on the door and hears Buck's voice almost immediately, a loud squeaking outburst. There is a bit of panic in the younger man's voice, as he squeals some nonsensical nonsense, which is followed by a hearty, hefty laugher. Steve, his mind supplies, as he immediately pushes back his irrational jealousy. Don't forget. You are the one going on a date with Buck. Kelly huffs.

A few large, smooth footsteps later, the door flies open to reveal a very cheery, bushy eye Steve McGarrett. This man is just glowing, his smile taking up his entire face. "Hey there," he grins harder. "Come in. The kid maybe stupid for a bit."

A second passes before Buck is heard deep from within the apartment. "Hey!" It is the perfect mixture of insulted and playfulness.

"Probably for the best," Kelly grins, his chest warm at Buck's voice, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him.

Steve tilts his head to the side to get a better view of the hallway, which leads to Buck's bedroom. When he doesn't see Buck, he covers his mouth ever so softly and whispers, "Whatever you do, tell Evan he looks gorgeous. I've been tortured enough today, and I won't go through it again. That kid had over ten outfit changes and I am not doing this again."

Kelly snorts as that is silly idea ever. "Buck looks good in everything." It is not a lie. Buck can be in a trash bag and Kelly will still think Evan is the most gorgeous man in the world.

"Good answer."

"Is there any other response when we are talking about someone we care about?"

"Well…."

Before Kelly can respond, Buck, his eyes narrowed, steps out from his bedroom, and stares them both down. "What is going on here?" he asks slowly. He gives them each a skeptical stare.

Kelly's words disappear on his tongue, his mouth going dry, and his heart pounds in his chest at the sight of Buck. Like he has stated before, Buck always looks amazing, even if he is covered in ash. "No-nothing," he croaks.

Buck goes bright pink as he faces Kelly's intense, heated stare. "Did I over dress?" he questions, his voice drops just a tad. Glancing down, he pulls at the bottom of his black and white plaid slim jacket, which he is wearing over a brown turtle neck sweater and Ebony dress pants.

Kelly heavily gulps. "No…NO! You look perfect." His voice cracks.

"Really? Because I wasn't sure-"

No one in this room is a virgin, but Buck is stiff as a board when Kelly crosses the room in three seconds flat and cups Buck's face in both hands. The younger man doesn't get a single word out—not that he can- as the older man presses his lips against his. At first, Buck is frozen, still shocked by Kelly's actions, which worries Kelly at first, but it doesn't take long for the ex-floater to respond, wrapping his arms around Kelly's waist and pulling him closer. He opens his mouth and invites Kelly in, the internal body heart quickly raising for both men. Kelly's grip on Buck's face tightens ever so softly as he begins to explore Buck's warm, wet mouth.

While now is not the best time, Kelly can't help but compare this kiss with every other kiss he has ever experienced. No, it has nothing to do with his kissing skills…not that Buck is a bad kisser. He isn't. Buck is an amazing kisser once he gets into it and not a shy fool. Buck's excitement is breath taking, so no, this has nothing to do with kissing skills. This has to do with who Kelly is kissing. He is kissing Buck, someone he greatly respects and admires. Someone with such a huge heart that Kelly drowns in it. Kelly isn't in love yet, but he could see himself loving this man. Heck, he is already half way there.

There is something amazing about having Buck in his arms, feeling the man under his fingertips. Buck's moan tastes-

"So," Steve states loudly with a pained groan. "Did you forget I was here?!"

Buck's eyes go wide as he attempts to jump out of Kelly's arms, but the lieutenant doesn't let go. Instead, Buck squeals and goes cherry red. "I…um…ah… Um…yep." He utters, completely flustered.

Kelly howls in laughter, as he stares at the bashful Buck in his arms. Normally, he doesn't like to see Buck embarrassed or uncomfortable, but knowing it is because of a make out session, he is very proud of himself. He loves seeing Buck red and he is quite curious of how red he can get Buck. How far will the red go down? Will he be red from head to toe as Kelly removes his clothes one piece at a time? He doesn't know but Kelly is interested in finding out. "How can we ever forget?" he teases, his eyes on Buck.

Steve melodramatically rolls his eyes before he lets out a heavy sigh. "Do you two need a babysitter? No, I do not volunteer for that, but I am sure we can hire someone somewhere. Might have to pay them double."

"Nope, we are good." Kelly grins.

Buck, still breathless, puffs out his cheeks as Kelly finally loosens his grip on him. He lets out a deep breath. "Yup, all good." He croaks as he straightens his coat.

"Are you sure?" Steve teases.

"Yes!" Buck yups a little too forcibly. He takes another breath, his expression changing as he mentally steadies himself. With some new found confidence, he reaches for Kelly's hand and grips it tight. He adds, "Let's go, Kel, before the Old Man does something stupid."

Steve narrows his eyes before saying, "Kelly, please take this fool off my hands."

Glancing at Buck, Kelly smirks and says, almost purring, "My pleasure." When he pushes the jealousy aside, the friendship between Steve and Buck reminds Kelly much of his relationship with Casey. It is precious and valuable.

Steve eyes the two, silently studying them for a minute. "Now, Kid. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He warns, as he winks.

Pausing in his step, Buck straights up and turns to Steve. "Um… That isn't helpful. What wouldn't you do? Seriously. You are crazy. What wouldn't you do?"

Steve takes that as an insult. Acting like someone has slapped him, he demands, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Steve. Stevie. Steve-o…" Buck starts with a wry smile. "You… ah… well… are a caveman." Steve has complained several times that Danny has labeled him a Caveman, and while the Navy Seal denies that comparison, Buck has to agree. Steve is a caveman in every way. If something doesn't go his way, he beats it into submission.

"You-" Steve starts aggressively, but Kelly cuts him off. While it's adorable for Buck and Steve to go back and forth like idiots, Buck and he have a date. A date where no one else matters but them, and he wants to be on that date. He wants to stare into Buck's blue eyes for hours uninterrupted. He wants to make Buck laugh until he can't breathe. He wants to make him happy. To make him smile until his cheeks hurt. "As much as I have enjoyed this- and I have-, I think we better be off."

Buck nods. "Yes!" he states a little forcefully. "I am ready. Let's go."

Kelly holds out his hand to direct Buck to the door. "Let's be off."

Taking Kelly's out stretched out hand, Buck smiles, "My pleasure."

Author note:

I didn't want to end here but I was taking forever and I didn't want to make you wait longer. You shouldn't be suffering from my brain fart

The next chapter: The Date