Chapter Text
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Buck can still taste smoke twenty minutes later as he swings through the city. The city lights under him kind of look like stars, and Buck can’t help but smile. Albert is still complaining in his ear.
“In my defense–”
“There’s nothing defendable about what you did.” Buck interrupts as he rounds the corner. There’s a group of kids, no older than thirteen, that spot him and start yelling at him, trying to get his attention. Buck smiles under the mask and stops on the roof of the building right above them. They cheer, Buck does a flip, they cheer some more, and then he leaves, with a smile on his face. He’s sure Karen won’t mind him being late.
He’s not sure and she’ll probably hit him with the reports on her desk again, but it’s kind of worth it to Buck.
“ In my defense. ” Albert speaks up again. He can hear the tell-tale sign of a spoon hitting a glass bowl and he immediately knows Albert is having cereal for dinner. Again. “The recipe said ‘bake on high’. I just followed the instructions.
Buck snorts, launching a web at the ledge across the avenue and throwing his body off the building. “You didn’t just bake on high, you incinerated it.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Albert complains, and Buck hears him plopping down on the couch and turning the tv on.
“Albert, it looked like a brick of carbon. No part of it was salvageable.”
“I got it under control!”
“After you turned the kitchen into a disaster zone–”
“I put out the flames.” Albert ignores the jab. “It’s not like we had to call Chimney.”
If Chim ever found out Albert almost caught the apartment on fire, they wouldn’t hear the end of it. It’s like when Buck burnt his hands taking something out of the oven when he was twenty-three. Every present from Chimney ever since– be it on his birthday or Christmas– always includes a pair of oven mitts now. They have a kitchen drawer solely dedicated to oven mitts. It 's insane.
“Technically you’re the one who left me on dinner duty. It’s your fault.”
Buck is baffled, almost hits a lamp post while he’s distracted by Albert’s claims. “I was in the shower for ten minutes.”
Buck can basically hear Albert shrug. “And then you left me with the clean up to talk to your new man crush.”
“He’s not my new man crush.”
Albert fully cackles down the microphone and Buck winces before rolling his eyes. “Chim said you saw him get naked. ”
“That was a joke.” Albert laughs again and Buck makes a mental note to hit him upside the head when he gets back to the apartment. “You and Chim talking to each other again?”
Albert and Chimney’s relationship started out kind of rough.
Chimney’s dad didn’t want anything to do with him, shipped him off to New York once he was old enough, left both him and his mother to struggle. He didn’t help with school or the medical bills or the funeral costs. Didn’t call or text Chimney on any birthday or Christmas or graduation. Just overall didn’t care. And Chim didn’t either, erased every thought of his father out of his head and moved on. At least that’s what it seemed like to Buck. A teenaged Buck, filled with resentment and anger towards his own parents, admired him.
Because the moment they stuffed him inside that overcrowded bus from Hershey to New York, neither Phillip nor Margaret Buckley cared enough about Buck to call, text, send a letter or an email. They missed every birthday, every Christmas, every anniversary of Daniel’s death. They didn’t go to his graduation, or any of the times he was stuck in the hospital, no matter how many times Maddie called them– begged them. They didn’t care about Buck. And Buck wanted nothing more than to not care back. But he did.
He confessed as much to Chim one night. Maddie was working a night shift the day before Buck’s eighteenth birthday, and would miss the clock striking midnight. And because Chim knew how much it mattered to Maddie– and to Buck– that they spent midnight together, he offered to drive Buck to the hospital before the clock struck twelve on December third just so they could spend it together. It was a tradition they had with Daniel. One each of their birthdays, for as long as Daniel was alive, they would sneak into each other's rooms and be the firsts to say happy birthday. And then Daniel died and Maddie insisted they keep doing it, to keep him alive- to keep his memory alive.
He doesn’t know if it was because of the grief, because his eighteenth felt more monumental or because of the recent life changing spider bite, but Buck was definitely feeling sadder than usual.
Chimney noticed because he parked the car and didn’t make any move to get out, just stared at him. And Buck just sighed and asked ‘ When do I get to stop caring about them?’ . If Chim was taken aback by it, he didn’t show it, just sighed and placed a hand on Buck’s shoulder. ‘You never stop caring, you just learn to live with it.’ Buck could tell it was coming from his own experience, and that just made him admire Chimney even more.
Buck spent midnight on his eighteenth birthday blowing out comically large candles on a shitty cupcake inside the cafeteria of the hospital, sitting across the only family he’d ever really need.
Then a couple months later, sixteen year old Albert showed up on Chimney’s doorstep, looking for Howard Han, and claiming to be his brother. Chimney left him in his apartment to rush to Maddie’s and Buck saw Chimney’s perfectly built façade of coolness break as he spoke on the phone with his father for the first time in over twenty years. Chim talked calmly and Buck could tell whoever was on the other side was screaming. Buck figured whoever Chimney’s brother was, came to New York without warning their father.
Mr. Han flew to New York a couple days after Albert did, and showed up to Maddie’s apartment first thing in the morning to try and talk to his son. Chim barely talked to him, ignored the man sitting on their couch as he made breakfast, kissed Maddie and headed to work.
In the end, Mr. Han ended up moving to New York with Albert. Chimney tried to re-establish his relationship with his father, tried to build a new one with Albert.
And it was okay for a while, Buck moved in with Albert despite the disapproving looks from Mr. Han when he first visited the apartment. Chim and Albert kept up the monthly dinners with little to no arguing.
Until last month, when something happened that made Albert have to stand between Chim and his father, playing middle man for the two of them. Which turned into him and Chim fighting about their father, like always.
Because even if Albert recognizes Chim’s struggles with Mr. Han, his apprehension, Buck knows that he still views the man as his father. Still loves him like one. And Chim will never be able to look at Mr. Han the same. Because Buck knows that every time he looks at Albert, and Albert’s relationship with the man, all Chim can see is how Mr. Han was always capable of trying and caring, he just wasn’t worth the effort.
It’s the same thing Buck saw when he looked at Maddie growing up– when he looks at Jee right now. Because his parents tried –keep trying– for the both of them. They call, send gifts and make impromptu trips up to New York to see the both of them. And Buck was just never worth the effort.
He’s knocked out of his own head by Albert humming. “I apologized. He did too.” Albert sighs, Buck can hear him turn off the tv. “It’s just hard. I want them to get along.”
Buck nods, keeps swinging in between buildings as he processes Albert’s words. He understands Albert, he really does. He wants to fix everything, wants everyone to get along. He wants them to be an actual family. But Albert sometimes gets overly excited with the thought of his brother and his dad getting along, that he forgets Chim didn’t get the same father that he did. “I don’t think that’s ever going to happen, Al.”
Albert sighs again. “I know. It’s unfair to Chim–I'm aware.”
“He loves you.” Because he does. Chimney loves Albert so much and that’s why he kept doing the dinners and the phone calls for a while. Chimney is a great brother to Albert and Buck knows that because he was a great brother to Buck–still is.
“I know he does.”
They’re silent for a second and Buck pauses on top of a building to check his watch. He still has fifteen minutes to get to Oscorp and he’s not that far away, so he gives himself five minutes to stretch his muscles and rest before picking back up. His arm is killing him and he’s seriously wondering why still he insists on swinging to Manhattan instead of just taking the subway and changing into the suit before getting to Karen's office.
Albert would say it’s because he’s a show off. Buck prefers to say it helps him practice his swinging.
All it really does is make his arms sore for the next couple of days.
He sits on the ledge of a building that overlooks the east river and he lets his shoulders hunch over. He’s been worried about Karen the whole day, the cryptic text she sent him doing nothing to calm his nerves. Chim also got nothing out of Hen, so Buck is kind of going in blind.
His arm still stings lightly and he is sure she is going to want to figure out how his body reacts to severe burns. Buck flinches preemptively at the thought of getting more blood drawn.
It does look better than it did last night. You can still tell it’s burnt– it’s pinkish and scabbing over– but at least it’s blistering anymore, so Buck will take that as a victory.
“So you’re meeting Eddie tomorrow? For hot chocolate?” Albert’s voice breaks the silence after a couple of minutes
Buck sighs, lays down on the roof with his legs dangling over the edge. “I’m meeting him and his son tomorrow for hot chocolate, to discuss tutoring.”
“Doesn’t he hate you?” Albert asks, and Buck can see him lifting a stupid eyebrow at him. He rolls his eyes and hopes it’s strong enough for Albert to feel it all the way in Queens.
“He doesn’t know me.” It 's true. Eddie doesn’t know Buck. At least not directly. “And hate is a strong word. He’s neutral towards Spider-Man.”
“You are Spider-Man.”
“You’re focusing too much on the semantics.”
There’s a pause. “You’re definitely not using that word right.”
“I am.” He can hear Albert typing on his phone and groans. “Don’t google it.” He’s staring up at the stars and at that moment, Buck feels really calm. He definitely could fall asleep on this roof. He’s done it before, many times. Ends up falling asleep on some random roof and waking up freezing to death. It’s worth it, he thinks.
“I’m not googling it.” He’s still typing and Buck frowns. “I’m calling Taylor.”
“Don’t call–” He sits up, as if that’s going to stop whatever is about to happen, but he’s interrupted before he even has the chance to get Albert to stop.
“Do you realize it’s ten pm?” Taylor’s voice comes through his earpiece and he audibly groans.
"Like that's late for you. I need you to tell Buck I'm right.” He gets up and balances on the edge of the building. He figures he still has ten minutes to get to Karen so he can entertain Albert and Taylor for a while longer before he needs to keep heading to Oscorp.
“What are you right about?” Taylor asks, and Buck can hear her typing on her laptop so fast the sound of the keys just kind of blends together.
“The use of the word semantics.”
The typing pauses for a second, like Taylor is processing what Albert just said, before it resumes. “In what context is Buck using the word semantics?”
“What article are you working on right now?” Buck asks, curious, because he’s pretty sure they haven’t gotten an assignment from Jameson yet. At least he can’t think of one.
“Not an article.” She replies, voice flat. “Research on Oscorp.”
“For the Bugle?” It surprises Buck, almost causing him to lose his balance on the edge. He throws his arms out to stop himself from falling, letting out a yelp in the process. The Bugle doesn’t focus on anything besides Spider-Man recently, which would thoroughly piss off Buck if the person writing the articles wasn’t Taylor and Buck wasn’t the one taking the pictures. Instead, he feels like it’s weirdly humorous.
“No. I’m just curious.” She mumbles. “Did you just yelp?”
Albert is chewing something over the mic again and Buck winces. “Dude! The chewing.” He attempts a flip over the edge, almost slips while landing, and decides to not do it again. “And yeah, I did.”
“Can we go back to Buck’s improper use of vocabulary?”
“Right. Semantics. How did he use it?”
“This is ridiculous.” Buck mumbles before shooting a web and jumping off the building. He zigzags between parked cars and street lamps, while trying to keep up with Taylor and Albert in his ear.
“Stop being dramatic.” He can hear Taylor roll her eyes, and can practically see her if he closes his eyes. But that’s probably due to knowing Taylor for over half his life now. He knows she’s probably twisted on the couch typing, and that she will most definitely fall asleep on her couch and come into work tomorrow with a crick in her neck, complaining. He can see it in his mind. Because after almost fourteen years, he probably knows Taylor better than he knows himself. And vice-versa.
“He’s going out for hot chocolate with that firefighter that hates him.”
“And his kid. Also he doesn’t hate me!”
“The guy that chewed you out at that fire yesterday?” Taylor asks and she has definitely stopped typing, which means her full attention is now on the situation and Buck wants to groan again.
“He didn’t chew me out. He chewed Spider-Man out.”
“You are Spider-Man.” Taylor sounds unimpressed and Buck secretly wishes he could swing faster just so he had an excuse to end this conversation.
“That’s what I said! And then he said I was focusing too much on the ‘semantics’ of it.” His voice sounds nasally, and Buck just knows he’s currently upside down on the couch.
“You’re definitely using that word wrong.” Taylor says. “Also your logic makes no sense.
“Thank you.” Albert sighs and Buck really wishes he could teleport to Oscorp right now.
Buck knows both of them are right. Logically, Eddie doesn’t like Spider-Man, and Buck is Spider-Man, so, by the law of association, Eddie doesn’t like Buck.
Only Buck also thinks he’s right. Because Eddie doesn’t know Buck as Buck, he knows Buck as Spider-Man.
And even if he is the man under the suit, it’s a different take on his personality. Spider-Man is Buck, and Buck is Spider-Man, that’s true, but Buck is also just Buck. Even if he often thinks he’s nothing without the suit.
Also, the only reason Eddie doesn’t like Spider-Man– in Buck’s head– is because they got off on the wrong foot. Buck was being impulsive, he came off too strong, and Eddie didn’t know him.
That’s the reason he talked to him this morning, and tried to joke around as much as possible. Because he truly believes Eddie is a good person, he wants Eddie in his corner. Buck doesn’t think about his perpetual need for everyone to like him.
“His son needs help with science, Chim gave him my number. I’m being helpful.”
Buck will confess that he was taken aback when Chim called him to tell him he gave Eddie his number. Buck thought for a second that Chimney had given him his Spider-Man number, until Chim brought up Eddie having a son and said son needing a tutor. Buck will not admit to anxiously waiting for the phone call the whole afternoon.
It was nice. Talking to Eddie was nice. Sure it was fun to tease him at the station that morning, but when he called Buck to ask for help, it felt good. Eddie has a nice voice and he’s sweet, underneath that façade he puts up when he talks to Spider-Man. Eddie is sweet. Eddie has a son, and from the sound of his voice when he talks about him, Eddie loves his son very much. Eddie is nice.
Eddie is sweet. Buck likes Eddie. Buck hopes Eddie can learn to like Spider-Man.
“Where are you meeting him?” Taylor speaks up, and in the distance Buck sees the Oscorp building, almost cheers.
“ Them. ” Albert snorts, and Buck tries to swing faster. “And Peter Pan’s.”
Taylor laughs, then scoffs jokingly. “Is nothing sacred anymore?” Peter Pan’s was introduced to Buck by Taylor when they first became friends in middle school. It’s two minutes away from her apartment and Buck is positive that in the winter time she consumes three times her body weight in hot chocolate. Buck doesn’t judge because he does it with her. He’s also pretty sure one of the reasons Taylor is still at that shitty apartment is because of the proximity to Peter Pan’s.
Peter Pan’s sort of became an important mark in Buck's life– in his friendship with Taylor and Albert. All their breakups have ended up with them at the corner table of the pastry shop. Every achievement was celebrated with something from Peter Pan’s– Buck’s recoveries, Taylor and Albert’s college graduations, Taylor and Buck getting the job at the Bugle.
“The hot chocolate is nice!” He defends as he lands on the sidewalk across the street from the labs. He scans the windows until he lands on Karen’s office, lights on and window open, just like Hen said it would be. He smiles. “Plus, I want his kid to like me.”
The silence goes on for so long that he thinks both Taylor and Albert have hung up. He even taps his in-ear to make sure it’s still working. It is–indicated by the loud feedback that plays right inside his head. Buck flinches just as Taylor replies, “Okay.”
And to the untrained ear, it sounds like she’s just agreeing with Buck. But his ear is very trained so, “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
He doesn’t. But he doesn’t tell her as much
“I have to go, Karen’s waiting for me.”
“Don’t forget to ask her about the police scanner.” Albert reminds him and Buck nods, and jogs across the street.
“You’re at Oscorp?” Taylor asks, curiosity dripping from her voice.
Buck nods, before remembering Taylor can’t see him. He places both his hands on the façade of the building and starts climbing slowly. “Yeah, I'm meeting Karen.”
“Something weird is going on there, Buck.”
Buck frowns and opens his mouth to ask, but Albert beats him to the punch. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the police report is weird. A bunch of things are blacked out, there are no pictures of the so called crime scene, no identification of whoever it was that freaked out. The whole thing is weird.”
Buck pauses his climb. “What do you mean the report is blacked out?”
“All it says is that it happened in the arachnid lab and it was an Oscorp employee. No pictures, no motive, no arrest report.” Taylor says carefully, and the frown on his face deepens.
“Didn’t the news say they had arrested the guy, though?”
Taylor scoffs. “They dragged a guy out, but his head was covered and it did not look like someone who had been destroying a full laboratory five minutes before.” She pauses, types something on her laptop before continuing. “There’s no arrest report. And my guy at NYPD is being shady. There’s something off going on there.”
“I’ll talk to Karen.”
“She probably won’t say anything much to you, Buck.”
“Yeah. If Taylor’s right, then it doesn’t matter how trustworthy Karen is, she probably won’t be able to tell you anything.” Albert offers and his voice isn’t nasally anymore which means he sat up. If Buck knows Albert, which he does, he’s probably doing his own research right now.
Buck pauses, still hanging from the side of the building. He stares up at Karen’s open window. He’s definitely late now. What’s a couple more minutes? “What do you want me to do?” He trusts Albert and Taylor above all– if he’s capable of doing something, they’d know.
“I mean, you’re already at Oscorp–” Albert starts.
“And we have no visual of what the inside of the lab actually looks like.” Taylor continues.
Oscorp is crazy secure. After an attack like the one from last night, the arthropod floor is going to be swarming with security. It won’t be like a seventeen year old Buck sneaking out of the bathroom. “Can you disable security? Or cause a distraction to buy me time?”
“What floor are the arthropod labs?”
“Thirty-six.” Both him and Taylor reply at the same time. Buck continues. “So probably something below the tenth floor, so I have some time.”
Buck starts climbing to the thirty-sixth floor, slowly, steering clear of the windows.
It’s silent for a bit, and when Buck reaches the thirty-sixth floor window he peers inside. Then he quickly moves away from the window when he realizes there are at least twelve guards just in the hallway he’s looking at. “Albert!” He whisper-shouts. “Any luck?”
Albert doesn’t reply, but after maybe thirty seconds, he hears something below him explode. It’s faint, but when he peaks inside the window again, all the guards are moving towards the stairs.
“What the hell was that?” Taylor’s voice sounds in his ears and Buck grins as he carefully steps inside the hallway.
“I overheated something in their IT department.” He sounds weirdly proud and it almost makes Buck start laughing. “It’s on the fifth floor, so you probably have five minutes before they realize it’s nothing much.”
“Albert, I love you.” He whispers and then rushes through the hallways looking for the arachnid lab.
It’s almost second nature, even if it’s been over ten years since he’s been on this floor. Buck still remembers. So when Albert asks, “Do you need me to guide you to the lab? I have the floor plants.”
Buck shakes his head. “No, I got it.”
He’s standing in front of the door to the lab in no time, and the whole thing is covered with yellow police tape. “I made it.”
“Turn on the live feed, so we can see.” Buck does as Albert says, clicks the tiny button on his lenses, and goes back to looking at the door. It’s broken off the hinges so it should be easy to move once he clears the tape.
“Jesus, why is the quality so bad?” He hears Taylor complain. Albert must’ve either sent her the link or turned the call into a video chat for the both of them.
“Old suit. Fixing the new one.” He mumbles, too focused on not drawing any attention to the lab as he tries to move through the mess of yellow crime scene tape. He tapes places most of them back on after he successfully– and quietly– moves the heavy door to the side.
“Well, we need to install a better camera–” Her sentence trails off once Buck turns to really look at the lab. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
As he looks around the now destroyed lab, Buck finds it hard to recognize the one from ten years ago. Ten years ago, Buck remembers being so wowed by the magnitude and beauty of the lab that he was frozen in his spot for a solid ten minutes. Now, everything lies destroyed, a mess around the lab- like a hurricane blew right through.
What used to be a blue energy source in the middle of the room, is now off, shattered in pieces around the floor. And whoever– whatever– broke it must’ve been insanely strong because it’s basically ripped off the floor, hanging by some cables.
“What 's that?”
He’s too focused on looking around the lab for anything that will explain the mess to reply to Albert, so he’s thankful that Taylor basically knows everything he knows. “Buck thought it was an energy source at the time…For the spiders. But that was like ten years ago and we never tried to figure it out.”
“Well, it’s no longer providing any energy that’s for sure.” Albert pauses, like he's trying to piece everything together. “Wait, where are the spiders then?”
“Gone.” Buck whispers, as he turns to look at what was supposed to be walls of specimens under glass around the room. Only now everything is broken and there isn’t a single spider around.
“Is there a desk anywhere? Or reports of some sort?” Taylor asks and Buck moves around the lab carefully, mindful to not step on any glass. The window to his left is completely blown up. There isn’t even a frame on it anymore, and only a couple pieces of flimsy police tape are covering them. They both sway precariously in the wind.
There’s a desk in the corner of the room, with paper strewn everywhere on top of and around it. “There’s a desk in that corner.”
“I can see that Taylor.” He whispers back, kind of harshly.
“Well I was just pointing it out, no need to be a bitch about it.” Buck pauses in front of the desk, flips Taylor off, via the live stream in his lenses. “Real nice. Real mature Buckley.”
Buck scoffs, tries to keep his voice down to a whisper. “I’m not the one being obvious. Of course you can see the desk, you’re my eyes.”
“Can you guys focus?” Albert speaks up. “You have like, two minutes before they realize it was just a computer.”
Both Buck and Taylor apologize, and he does his best to rummage through the pieces of paper on the desk. There mostly just failed reports– mountains of papers with the word “ UNSUCCESSFUL ” marked over them in big, bold, red letters.
“There’s nothing here, just reports of failed stuff.” He mumbles, drops to the ground to look through the files on the floor.
“Do you see any names? Or a name that keeps coming up?” Taylor asks.
Buck shakes his head. “There are no names, just experiment numbers.” He flips through the ones he’s holding. “PT805, MM604, PP241, MJ263– nothing that makes any sense.”
“Buck, they're heading up right now, you need to leave.”
“Wait, there has to be something.”
Albert’s voice rings in his ears, full of urgency. “Buck, hurry up.”
Buck stands to his full height and takes a step back. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before opening them back up and scanning the room. It’s the same thing he’s been looking at.
“Wait! Buck, stop! Right there!” Taylor’s voice comes through his ear, and she’s practically yelling. He freezes his head, squints his eyes to try to see what Taylor is seeing.
“What?”
“Behind the desk! There’s a manila folder. At least it looks like one.”
“Buck, you need to hurry. They’re on the floor below you.”
He rushes over to where Taylor pointed out, and low and behold, there’s a folder tucked behind one of the legs of the desk. Buck grabs it, and tries to flip through it, only he starts hearing footsteps from down the hall. “Just grab it and leave!”
Buck does exactly what Albert says. He tucks the folder under his suits and looks around the room for an escape route. The door is no good, they’ll see him right away. He’ll just be stepping out into the hallway and he doesn't want to deal with that. He still has to meet with Karen and he’s definitely late for that now. “Buck, go!”
“I’m going!” He takes one look at where the window used to be, thinks for a second and just runs towards it, jumping out.
He can faintly hear Taylor and Albert complaining in his ear, and he flips his body over and shoots a web just in time to swing around the building before he splats on the sidewalk. And maybe he does it a little later than usual because he knows Taylor and Albert are still watching, but he feels like they deserve it.
He lands in an alley with Taylor’s voice ringing in his ear. “You’re an asshole ! You did that on purpose.”
He shrugs, pulls the folder out of his suit and flips it open.
Specimen ZE-271, an adult Argiope aurantia (yellow garden spider), was the only successful subject in our series of experiments aimed at applying spider regeneration and molting abilities to human biology. Through genetic manipulation and bioengineering, ZE-271 displayed remarkable regenerative capabilities, regrowing two lost limbs after induced injury and successfully completing three artificial molting cycles. However, ZE-271 also exhibited abnormal behavioral patterns, including increased aggression and hyperactivity, raising concerns about the stability of the genetic modifications.
Buck’s heart drops to his stomach. He feels sick. Ignoring Taylor and Albert in his ear, he flips to the last page on the report.
On September 24, 2012 , Specimen ZE-271 was reported missing under unexplained circumstances. Despite thorough investigations, no trace of the specimen was found, leaving a significant gap in our research and raising ethical and safety concerns about continuing similar experiments.ZE-271’s disappearance led to the shutdown of Project Tyler.
“September 24th 2012, isn’t that when–”
He nods, feels his hands shaking. “Yup.”
Suddenly Buck is seventeen again, standing in his bathroom with a doorknob in one hand and a faucet in the other. Suddenly he’s going through things he can’t comprehend and thinking he’s a freak. Suddenly Buck is back in that lab, getting bitten.
He shakes his head, stuffs the report back in the suit. “I have to go guys.”
“Buck–”
“I’ll talk to you later, I'm already late.” He clicks the comms off before Taylor can even finish her sentence.
He can’t think about this now. He can’t let it worm itself inside his brain. Buck can’t go back to being seventeen and confused and resentful. It’s been ten years. He’s come to terms with it. He can’t be angry anymore. Even if finding out he’s a product of some sort of unethical experiment makes something ugly set in his stomach.
Taking a deep breath, he goes back to quietly climbing the Oscorp building until he reaches Karen’s office. Thankfully the light is still on, and when Buck finally makes it to the window, he can spot Karen hunched over her desk, scribbling on a yellow legal pad. Next to her, Buck can spot a big red binder with ‘SM’ written on the side with blue marker.
It’s a thick folder– the product of five years of blood tests, CGI’s, MRI’s, CT scans and interviews– every test Karen has run to help him figure out what is going on with his body stuffed inside.
He knocks on the window, careful of Karen and her paper-weight-throwing abilities. She looks up, looks at him unimpressed and then motions for him to come in. He swings his body inside and sits on the window ledge.
“You’re late. I thought you stood me up.”
He gasps dramatically, puts a hand on his chest, ignores the way it hits the folder currently under his suit. “Karen Wilson I would never. I love you too much.”
She rounds her desk and comes to stand before him, and for a minute he thinks she’s going to hug him.
It’s wistful thinking. Instead, she slaps his arm. Karen might be 5’6 and Buck might have super-strength or whatever, but her hits hurt. Buck winces, and rubs his arm, as she points a finger at his face. “Don’t be late again.”
“Jesus. Noted.”
She heads back to her desk and waits for him to join. “I have a wife and two kids at home, I do not have time to wait for you.”
“And I offer all my deepest apologies to Hen, Denny and Mara.” He bows dramatically in front of her desk and even if she tries to hide it, he can see the small smile on the corner of her lips.
She squints at him, smile terribly hidden. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”
Buck shrugs. “I try.” He sits on top of her desk. “So, what do you wanna do to me?”
Karen cringes, and then full body shudders, which, okay. “Don’t ever say it like that again.”
“Don’t act like I'm repulsive, what the hell?” Buck is a little offended honestly. He petulantly crosses his arms over his chest. The folder digs at his chest.
Karen levels him with a look. “I’m married. And a lesbian.”
“Still, you could stroke my ego a little.”
Karen stares up at him, unimpressed. “I don’t do that.”
Buck sighs, leans back on Karen’s desk. “Fine, Dr. Wilson. What are we examining today?”
Karen gets up with a grin. “Hen told me you walked into a hellfire yesterday. And inhaled a severe quantity of Carbon Monoxide. I want to see how it affected your system.”
“I wouldn’t call it severe. ” He hops down from the desk and follows Karen into the lab adjacent to her office.
Karen looks at him over her shoulder. “Hen said you were hacking up your lungs.”
“Hen is dramatic. I just needed a minute.”
“Uh-huh. A minute in the back of the ambulance on oxygen”
He flops down on the chair and takes off his glove to roll his right sleeve up. When he looks at his arms, he remembers the current burn on it. “Oh, by the way, I also have-”
“A burn on your right arm. Yeah I know.” Buck sees her pick up some test tubes and a butterfly needle, before turning around with a grin.
“Hen takes all the fun out of telling you stuff.”
Karen laughs and takes her seat on the stool next to Buck. “Sorry Spidey.” She wipes his arm with some antiseptic. “You already know the drill.” He nods and leans his head back on the chair as she puts on some gloves. He feels the needle prick his skin, and takes a deep breath in.
Karen takes her time, collecting his blood and dutifully identifying every tube.
She places a band aid on his arms, one with little sunflowers all over it, and he smiles. “You know you don’t have to do that, right?”
“Just humor me.” She shrugs, and gets up to archive his samples. “Don’t pull your sleeve down, I want to collect some tissue samples.”
Buck nods, leans back against the soft blue chair again. He needs to find a way to bring up the mess on the thirty-sixth floor last night. Albert was right, and Karen probably can’t tell him anything. But it wouldn’t hurt to try.
Karen sits down on the stool again. She’s holding a scalpel and Buck suddenly feels the urge to sit very still. “This is going to hurt a bit, but I'm gonna try to only get the scar tissue. Or the dead tissue.”
He nods. “I trust you.”
Karen works in silence and Buck tries his best to not move. He stares at the files on the counter, at the samples of blood she collected already in bags, and his mind drifts to what he read on the file.
The specimen went missing under mysterious circumstances because it bit Buck and he probably killed it and dragged it somewhere when he headed home. And now Buck is the only living proof that this experiment ever happened–ever worked–and the thought of being nothing more than an accidental guinea pig makes him sick.
Buck knew that there was a very real chance that what happened to him was a product of something Oscorp was working on. He knew that was probably the reason he ever got his abilities. But it being confirmed– seeing it written out on paper– it turns the whole thing real.
And Buck is twelve again, getting tests done and exams only for the doctors to tell him he’s not a match. That he’s not enough to save his brother.
Buck feels that same helplessness clawing at him again–the one from when he was twelve, thirteen, seventeen. He didn’t ask for this– for any of it– didn’t ask to be part of some twisted experiment.
He wasn’t supposed to be special. He was just supposed to be... Buck . But now, he’s the living proof that Oscorp’s secret project worked. And it got shut down. So now Buck is the only person that has to live with that weight.
He thought he could control it, make something good out of the cards he was dealt, and use his abilities to help people. But the truth makes everything feel wrong . He’s not a hero. He’s just a lab rat who got lucky—or unlucky, depending on how he looks at it.
“You okay?”
Karen’s voice snaps him out of his reverie. “Huh? Oh, yeah I’m good.”
“Well, I’m all done. I should have your result by next week, if you want to come by then.”
Buck nods, and gets up while rolling down his sleeve.
They’re back inside Karen’s office when he finally gathers the courage to ask her. Karen is gathering up files and stuffing them inside her bag, and she has her phone in her other hand, probably texting Hen to tell her she’s heading out.
Buck has one leg out the window and Karen is almost out the door when he finally asks. “What happened last night?”
Karen freezes, a hand on the doorknob, and waits a beat– as if she’s seeing if Buck will drop it. When she realizes he won’t, she sighs. “Some trouble on the arthropod floor.”
She keeps it purposefully vague, and Buck throws his head back in exasperation. “Yeah, I gathered that. What I don’t understand is why they called all available police units for a disgruntled employee .” He does air quotes when he says the last part, hoping Karen can see how much he doesn’t believe whatever is going on on the news.
Karen sighs again and turns to face him. She looks tired, like she has a weight on her shoulders, and maybe this is the moment where Buck realizes this could actually be serious. “Look, I wish I could tell you. I really do. It’s just–” She runs a hand over her face, and looks around the office. “Norman made us sign NDA’s before we left last night. I legally can’t say anything to you.”
“How about illegally?”
She looks at him. “I have kids, Spidey.” And suddenly Buck feels horrible for even suggesting it. Of course Karen is looking out for her family. Buck shouldn’t have even brought it up. “What I can tell you is that whatever is happening is very weird.”
Buck nods. “Okay. Thanks.” He swings his other leg out of the window and hangs on the window sill by his arms. “Let me know if you need anything until next week.”
“Will do. Have a safe trip home, Spidey.” And her smile is so warm, that it somehow makes Buck feel a bit better about how the night turned out.
He salutes her. “You too Dr. Wilson.” And then he lets go of the window and drops down, before shooting a web to the nearest building and starting his commute back to the apartment.
Buck swings the whole way home with a heavy weight in his chest, and the folder poking at his ribs.
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The next day Buck shows up at work with a cup of hot chocolate for Taylor and the manila folder inside his laptop bag. When he got home last night, he refused to look at it, choosing to stuff it in his work bag to deal with later. Or to have Taylor deal with it. Whatever was easier.
Taylor is sitting at her desk, head down and fingers flying over the laptop. She barely realizes Buck is hovering over her, only lifting her head when he waves the cup in front of her eyes.
“What’s this for?” She looks up at him, perfectly manicured brow lifted up on her forehead. She grabs the cup and brings it to her lips as Buck takes his seat at his own desk, across from hers. He watches as she takes a sip, hums and does a little dance as she sets the cup back down.
“Being an asshole last night.” He shrugs, takes his laptop out of his bag.
She looks at him sternly. “I was joking .”
“I know that.” He smiles at her. “I just wanted to be nice.”
“Sure.” She eyes him carefully, and Buck knows it’s useless to keep things from Taylor. Along with Maddie, she’s the one person that can read him like an open book.
Buck sighs, grabs the folder from his bag before dropping it in the empty space between their laptops, sliding it over to Taylor’s side of the table. “I need you to be the one to go over it. I would but–”
Taylor nods immediately. “I get it.” She flips it open on the first page, before looking around the office. Buck almost laughs at her attempts to keep everything secret. The Bugle is by no means a journalistic entity. Buck and Taylor are currently the only employees beside Jameson, so Buck is sure no one is going to be eavesdropping.
“Do you have any idea what it could’ve been about? Did Dr. Wilson tell you anything?” Buck watches as Taylor starts reading the first few paragraphs, the ones detailing the specificity of the experiment– the ones Buck couldn’t force himself to read.
Buck shakes his head. “She couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t?” Taylor’s head snaps up, and Buck can basically see the cogs turning in her brain.
“Norman Osborn made everyone sign non-disclosure agreements before they left.” He drops his voice into a whisper, because even if Buck and Taylor are alone, the walls have ears, and Buck wouldn’t put it past Jameson to have wires hidden in the office. “She legally couldn’t tell me anything.”
“Why would Osborn make everyone sign NDA’s for an angry staff member?” Taylor wonders out loud and Buck shrugs.
“Whatever it is probably has to do with that experiment.” Buck lets the implications of what it means to him hang over the air.
“Buck…” Taylor stares at him, an the look in her eyes is so heavy that Buck just busies himself with his laptop
And as if the universe hears his pleas– or just likes to see him suffer in multiple different ways– the door to Jameson’s office down the hall slams open. Buck groans to himself and from the corner of his eye he sees Taylor roll her eyes and drop her head in her hands.
Jameson's voice booms through the office like a freight train, and Buck closes his eyes, groaning internally.
From his seat, he glances over at Taylor, who’s already burying her head in her hands, clearly sharing his dread. She quickly shuffles the folder under her laptop, a futile attempt to keep it out of Jameson’s prying eyes.
“Kelly! Buckley!” Jameson's voice bounces off the walls, growing louder as his footsteps echo down the hall. Buck straightens up reluctantly, knowing that hiding from Jameson is as impossible as hiding from a storm.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Jameson appears, looming over their desks with his usual scowl, arms crossed like he's just waiting to explode. “Good morning, sir,” Taylor mumbles, her tone less than enthusiastic.
Jameson ignores her. “I need you two to write up a piece on that fire from a couple days ago. Spider-Man nearly got himself killed pulling his reckless stunts.”
Buck feels his stomach drop. Of course, it’s about that. Buck is getting sick of hearing about that fire. He got everyone out. He 's fine. No one died. Could everyone just drop it.
“Of course, Sir.” Taylor nods, hesitantly looking at Buck, before continuing. “Although, wouldn’t it be more interesting to talk about what went on at Oscorp labs that same night? Could be interesting to do an investigative–”
“Kelly, I don’t pay you for ideas. I pay you to write.” Seeing how Taylor’s shoulders slump makes Buck’s chest feel with anger. He can’t actively punch Jameson though, so he just clenches his fists by his side. “I want the story ready to be published by tomorrow morning.”
Taylor nods, and doesn't say anything else. But Buck– being Buck, Taylor Kelly’s best friend since eighth grade– notices the way her jaw clenches and the way she goes back to typing, a bit more forcefully than before.
Jameson turns to look at Buck, stares right at him and Buck does his best to not frown. “Buckley, I want pictures from the scene.”
Buck pauses. He can’t be serious. “Sir, I wasn’t at the scene. There’s no way I–”
“Figure it out.” And with that Jameson turns on his heel, and heads back to his office without sparing them another glance.
Taylor waits a moment, and then speaks up. “One day I'm going to flip out and kick his ass.”
“I’ll hold him down for you.” He mumbles and leans his head on his hand and opens twitter on his laptop. Someone has to have posted pictures of him at the fire. That's the only way Buck is going to get anything for this article.
She sighs, slumps back on her chair. “This is bullshit.”
“We can always quit.” They can’t. Because they’re doing this as freelancers and therefore their whole living situation depends on it. And Buck knows for certain that without the money that the Bugle pays, Taylor would not be able to pay rent. Because as much of an asshole Jameson is, and how mind numbingly it is to work at the Bugle, the pay is pretty good.
So they can’t quit. But they can talk about quitting as much as they want. Which is why Taylor replies. “Let me know when you put in your two weeks so I can co-sign it.”
The rest of the day goes by fairly quickly, and before Buck knows it’s three-thirty-four pm and he’s running late.
He doesn’t mean to. He just gets so carried away editing the pictures he gets from social media and fixing some of his own shots, that one minute it’s noon and the next he’s rushing to stuff everything inside his bag. “Shit, I’m going to be so late.” He groans out loud, and Taylor rolls her eyes.
“It’s not a big deal, just text him to warn him.” She barely looks up from the laptop, just throws her a glance from under her eyelashes before going back to work.
Buck pouts, slings his messenger bag over his shoulder. “I wanted to make a good first impression.” Another one , Buck thinks, doesn’t say out loud.
Taylor sighs. “Then just swing there. You’ll make it in like five minutes and still have time to wallow before he gets there.”
“I don’t wallow.” Taylor stares at him. “I don’t.”
It’s a good idea though. And he has a backup suit in his bag. Plus, Peter Pan’s has a great back alley that gets close to no foot traffic. Buck knows, he’s changed there. He starts heading to the building's bathroom instead of the front door, waving at Taylor.
Taylor waves back. “Good luck on your date!” She blows him a kiss and Buck frowns, before shaking his head.
“Not a date!” He argues back, walking backwards towards the bathroom.
Taylor waves him off, goes back to her laptop screen . “Text me later.”
Taylor is right– because of course Taylor is right– and it takes him five minutes to swing over to Peter Pan’s. He even has some time to stop and take a picture with an adorable little girl. He perches her up on his shoulder and she hangs on to his ears for balance since there’s no hair ro hold onto with the mask, and Buck’s heart grows exponentially in size.
He changes as fast as possible in the back alley, stumbling over his own two feet as he tries to stuff his sweatshirt over his head.
The familiar chime of the bells above the door welcomes Buck in, and he is immediately confronted by the smell of coffee and baked goods. It was quiet– it always was around this time in the late afternoon, when the lunch rush had long passed and the evening crowd hadn’t yet settled in. Behind the counter, Chester is wiping down the polished surface, his movements unhurried, almost meditative.
As soon as Chester sees Buck, his face lights up with a smile that reaches all the way to his eyes, crinkling the edges. “Buck! Son! It’s been too long,” he says, voice full of genuine affection.
Buck’s heart gives a small tug at the word. Chester always called him that, and even though Buck tried to brush it off as just a friendly habit, it never failed to stir something deep inside him—something warm and sad, all at once. Buck doesn’t think he was ever called son. His parents always preferred ‘ Evan’ —sharp and formal, like the syllables weren’t worth the softness.
Buck shakes it off, forcing a smile to match Chester’s as he approaches the counter. “I know, I’m sorry. Life’s been– I’ll try to come by more often. “ He promises, leaning over to shake Chester’s hand, the familiar grip steady and comforting.
Chester chuckles, voice deep. “You always say that, and yet I’m still here, waiting.” He turns around, already beginning to prepare Buck’s usual without needing to ask—down to the right amount of little marshmallows. Buck’s chest tightens at the image.
“Taylor and Albert coming today too?”
“No just me today.” He shakes his head. “But I am meeting someone– well two someones. Could I get two more, with a little bowl of the marshmallows on the side?”
“I’ll make ‘em extra special,” Chester says before turning back to finish the order. “Go sit down, I’ll bring them to you in a second.”
Buck nods and makes the familiar walk to his favorite booth by the window.
As he waits, his mind drifts to Eddie again. Some part of Buck can’t help but feel scared, even if he is technically meeting Eddie for the first time. He’s terrified that since Eddie didn’t like Spider-man at first, then he wouldn't like Buck . He tries to distract himself, grabs his phone from his pocket– texts Eddie just to make sure he’s still coming.
Buck:
hey eddie!
i’m sitting in the corner booth on the back
just so you guys aren’t lost
i mean it isn’t a big shop
and i’m basically the only one here
just, i’m here! that’s what i wanted to say.
Buck groans, and he suddenly wants to bang his head against the table. Before he can act on it, his phone chimes three times.
Eddie:
We’re almost there!
A couple more minutes
See you in a bit.
Before Buck gets too lost in thought– or the stress of meeting Eddie as Buck – Chester appears beside the table, balancing a tray with three steaming mugs of hot chocolate and a small bowl of mini marshmallows on the side. “Here you go, son,” Chester says, setting everything down carefully, with a care so characteristic to who he is. “I’ll leave you to it, but don’t be a stranger, alright?”
“Thanks, Chester,” Buck replies, giving him a genuine smile.
The bell above the door chimes at that moment and Buck’s head instinctively shoots up. And there 's Eddie. And the cutest kid Buck has ever seen. He almost waves, until he remembers he’s not supposed to be able to recognize Eddie. He forces his head back down, focuses his eyes on his mug of hot chocolate and tries to seem as nonchalant as possible– even if he feels the opposite of nonchalant over this whole situation.
“Buck?” He hears from next to him and when he looks up he sees Eddie smiling down at him and Buck’s stomach does a weird flip, that Buck attributes to the fear of not making a first impression.
Buck smiles while nodding and gets up. “Yeah! Eddie? And you must be Chris?” Buck crouches down so he can be at the same height as Christopher as the boy nods. His eyes are wide, and above him Eddie smiles, all soft and warm. He runs a hand over Christopher’s head.
“Chris, this is Mr. Buckley. He’s going to help you out with science.” His voice is soft– sweet. Buck feels like he could drown in it.
“Just Buck is fine.” Buck puts his hand out for Chris to shake and when he does he looks at him with an inquisitive look on his face.
“Your name is Buck Buckley?” He tilts his head slightly to the right and– god he’s an adorable kid.
Buck laughs, waves Eddie off when he tries to apologize. “It’s actually Evan Buckley. But there were too many Evan’s in high school so I just go by Buck now. Being called Evan makes everything sound like a big deal– like I'm in trouble. Only my sister does it sometimes.”
Chris pauses for a minute before nodding. “Like when Abuela calls dad ‘Edmundo’.”
Buck can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him at Christopher’s words, and when he looks up, Eddie is fully blushing and Buck needs to immediately avert his eyes somewhere other than his red cheeks.
He stands up to his full height and motions for them to take a seat. “I didn’t know how you guys liked your hot chocolate so I just got the basic one!” He pushes the two still steaming mugs their way. Chris’ eyes light up, and he immediately reaches over the table to bring his own mug to his lips.
“Careful, mijo.” Eddie warns, before turning to look at Buck with a soft smile. “You didn’t have to get us anything. Thank you.”
Buck shakes his head. “Of course I had, I promised it would blow your mind didn’t I?”
“You did.” Eddie nods, and brings the mug to his lips. He takes his sweet time swallowing and Buck does his absolute best to not stare at his throat. Or the way a couple drops from the drink clinging to his mustache.
He waits, a second, then two, before finally speaking up. “So?”
Eddie nods. “It’s good.” He pauses. “My sister’s is better, though.”
Buck groans, throws his head back. “Seriously?”
Eddie laughs, and Buck figures out he wants to make Eddie laugh more often. “Sorry, I guess nostalgia wins.”
Buck shrugs. “I get that. I’ve been drinking Chester’s hot chocolate for so long I'm not sure I would be able to enjoy any other one.”
“You come here often?”
“Since I was thirteen. I passed my SAT’s solely thanks to Chester and his lemon cake.” Eddie smiles and Buck needs to change the subject before he throws up from how fast his heart is beating in his chest. “So Chris! Your dad says you’re having some troubles with science class?”
Chris lets himself sag against the leather seats and crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t understand it. And the teacher goes too fast. He doesn’t stop for questions.”
Buck frowns. “Is it Mr. Carson?”
Chris nods enthusiastically. “Yes! He’s so boring too.”
Eddie looks at him quizzically. “You know the teacher?”
Buck sighs and nods, taking a sip from his own mug. “I’m on the tutor list for kids in Midtown Elementary and a lot of them complain about Carson.” Buck checks to see if Chris is entertained with his drink, and when confirms it he leans over to Eddie’s side. “Between you and me, that man is practically a fossil. I have no idea how he’s still standing, much less teaching.”
Eddie chuckles, before looking at Chris and pushing his hair off of his forehead. “He’s just having a hard time with it.”
“Well good thing science is the thing I’m best at.”
Chris looks up at him, a small twinkle in his eye. “Really?”
Buck hums. “How about next time you bring me your syllabus for the year and I take a look at it. We can start on what you’re struggling the most with.” He nods, popping a marshmallow inside his mouth.
They spend most of the hour making small talk, the conversation flowing easily. Eddie is easy to talk to, Chris is the funniest kid Buck has ever met. It’s easy to get lost in conversation. Buck finds himself listening more than talking, not because he isn’t interested.Quite the opposite, really. He’s trying hard—maybe too hard—to not get distracted by how good Eddie looks.
He tries to focus on the words, but his gaze keeps wandering, drawn to Eddie and the small gestures of kindness toward Christopher. The way he gently wipes the hot chocolate from his mouth with a napkin, or how he kneels down to tie Christopher’s shoe when they’re leaving the booth. It isn’t just the way Eddie does things—it’s the softness, the quiet affection that seems to come so naturally to him, like it’s woven in his bones.
Buck swallows and forces his eyes to the floor for a second, only to glance up again when Eddie stands to his full height. He helps Christopher pull on his backpack, definitely too big for his frame. A strand of hair—just one—falls out of place over Eddie’s forehead. Buck has the sudden, irrational urge to push it back, to let his fingers graze against Eddie’s skin, just for a moment.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, Buck digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand, grounding himself with the sharp sting as he watches Eddie help Christopher settle into his backpack. It makes his heart twist in a way that isn't entirely comfortable. Eddie, thankfully, runs a hand through his hair, pulling that strand of hair away from Buck’s eyes.
“Thank you,” Eddie says, voice soft and sincere. “For meeting us. And for agreeing to help.”
There is such genuine gratitude in Eddie’s tone that it makes Buck’s chest ache.
“About payment—” Eddie starts, but Buck is quick to shake his head, cutting him off.
“No payment needed.”
Eddie blinks, clearly confused. “What?”
“I don’t charge for tutoring,” Buck explains, offering a small smile. He assumed Chimney told Eddie how it worked, but maybe that part had slipped through the cracks. “I do it for free.”
Eddie’s brow furrowed, creating little creases on his forehead. “For free?” He glances down at Christopher, then back at Buck.
Buck nods. “Yeah. Every kid deserves help. Especially when– well, when their parents might not be able to afford it.” He hesitates. He doesn’t really like talking about how he and Maddie struggled for a while– when he was in middle school and she was still trying to get settled as a nurse. With little to no help from their parents, and living on a single nurse’s salary, they just couldn’t afford things like tutors when Buck needed them. Which meant Maddie had to stay up with him late into the night trying to make sense of his lessons.
“I, uh... I lived with my sister when I was Chris’ age. She raised me, and we didn’t have a lot of money. Definitely couldn’t afford a tutor, even though I desperately needed one. She did everything she could to help me, but still.” Buck’s voice softens as the memories surface, a mix of gratitude and sadness woven around his words. “That’s why I do it now. Kids should get help regardless.” He shrugs, stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Eddie stands still for a bit, eyes searching Buck’s face, and Buck feels exposed—like he just revealed way more than he should have. But Eddie’s expression isn’t of pity. It’s something Buck doesn’t recognize. It’s something Buck wants to learn more about.
For a long moment, Eddie doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Buck with this quiet expression that makes Buck’s heart race. Finally, Eddie nods, voice soft. “You’re a good guy, Buck.”
The sincerity in Eddie’s words hits Buck way harder than he expected, and he can physically feel his cheeks heating up. Eddie gives him a small, crooked smile—the kind of smile that makes Buck’s stomach flip– the kind that makes him want to stand there and soak in the moment for just a little longer. But the café is starting to fill up and Buck needs to head home, he needs to call Taylor and figure out what she found out from the reports. His stomach knots nervously at the thought of the manila folder and its contents.
He walks with them to the door, and they stand outside for a second before Eddie settles a hand on Buck’s shoulder. Every nerve under his skin ignites at the touch and Buck is suddenly overly aware of his surroundings. “Thanks again, Buck. Really.”
“Anytime, Eddie,” Buck replies, voice a little rough around the edges. He means it. For some reason he wants to help Eddie and Chris for as long as they need. .
He watches as Eddie nods and smiles at him again–small and so soft and so sweet– before turning around and placing a hand on Christopher’s back. Buck watches him turn to say something to Chirs and sees that stray lock of hair falling into his eyes again. Buck’s fingers twitch in his pockets. He forces himself to stay put for a minute, to not reach out, to watch them walk down the street and disappear around the corner.
Buck takes the subway home. He lets his mind race and keeps his fingers inside of his pockets.
───── 🕸️🕷🕸️─────