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Over the years of working at the 118, Buck has learned the weight of the job is different each shift.
Some days it’s a medium pressure, where you can manage—for the most part—to save those in danger with no loss, simply broken bones, and fixable injuries that they can tend to.
Lucky days it’s easy calls that are quick fixes and make a funny story or two that you can etch in your memory to hold onto.
And lastly, the very bad days that inevitably come around, no matter how hard you fight.
Days that force you to see how fragile human life really is, and that no matter how much you struggle and grasp to save it, you simply can’t.
The weight is always crushingly overwhelming, and each time Buck struggles with soothing the tornado of emotions it causes to swell within him after the fact.
It’s easier to ignore and hide while still working, but then the clock eventually runs out and there’s nowhere else to turn to.
Shift ends, and they all have to go home to their own individual lives. No more joking around with Eddie, Chimney, and Hen to to ease the pain with humor. No insightful advice from Bobby or Athena to ease the pain of the day's losses.
Which is why he used to do anything to avoid the impending implosion. Casual sex. Bar hopping and partying—which usually led to more casual sex—and other impulsive or reckless vices.
Anything that quelled the hurt worked. He didn’t care that it was just a bandaid that he would eventually have to rip off and face all on his own.
It was rough.
Extremely challenging, when he was confronted by Bobby about his toxic habits, and had to stop. Harder still, once he started therapy to resolve his issues, and only weeks later discovered the startling secret that had been kept from him all his life.
But he learned healthier ways to cope. Ways to get through the pain and manage it, but that didn’t mean the weight was ever lessened, and it didn’t mean he ever felt less alone dealing with it.
However, things have changed. He now has you, the loving partner who came into his life unexpectedly a few months ago. The blessing that fit so easily into every nook and cranny of his existence, that he’s begun to wonder how you haven’t always been around.
Buck was hesitant to start a relationship again. Especially after Ali, and how she couldn’t handle his job and the strain it puts couples through.
Heck, you were a florist for god sakes.
Your life was being surrounded by greenery and growth. The art of helping plants flourish, and here he was, someone who runs into burning buildings and risks his life for others through dangerous situations.
Sure, he was dedicated to healing his pain, and making progress, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t broken and burnt.
So, why would a ray of sunshine in this world like yourself want anything to do with him?
Yet, just the same way you’re able to bring wilting flowers back to life with your touch, you’ve been able to awaken something in him too. Show him love and happiness that he hasn’t always been sure he deserved or was capable of receiving.
He trusts you. He wants to be there for you, and vice versa.
And that’s why he’s currently standing outside your apartment door, at four in the morning, just off one of those very bad shifts.
Sweaty uniform still on, and certainly looking a mess with his disheveled hair and tired eye, he clutches his gray gym bag in his left hand, the right alternating hovering over said door for the last ten minutes, because he can’t decide if he should bother you so late at night or not.
“Why am I like this?” He mutters to himself, letting out a tired sigh as he shifts his feet.
It’s silly, and he knows you would probably scold him for thinking that, but he just can’t help it.
He’s spent the night over at your place countless times, or you're usually at his loft, it’s simply y’alls routine at this point. But usually after a rough shift he knows he’ll be a mess. Not good company at all. Just a huge ball of regret and sadness as he mentally goes over the call in his head a thousand times.
Which is why he usually makes an excuse about why the two of you can’t see each other once he gets off. He’s too tired, or he agreed to go out with the crew afterwards, anything. But tonight?
The weight is too massive, the emotional toll thick and raw. He has no desire to be alone, but rather to be with you, in the comforting embrace of your warm arms.
So finally, after what feels like an eternity, a burst of courage flares through him and he knocks, once, twice, three times.
You’re probably not awake. It’s much too late, and you have to be up in two hours to open the flower shop. Buck knows better. He should go.
However, just as he’s about to turn tail and leave, he’s stopped by the click of your door being unlocked from the inside.
Within a second, it’s swinging open and there you are standing in front of him. He drinks in your appearance slowly.
Your eyes are wide with worry, surprise evident in them as they rove over him. Curious enough, you don’t look as if you’ve just rolled out of bed, but rather wide awake and if you had, it should have taken longer for you to open the door.
He notices you’re also wearing one of his pale blue long sleeve button downs, that hangs down so low he can’t see the shorts you’re probably wearing underneath.
Many times he’s caught you sneaking one out of his drawer to wear to sleep, and he utterly adores it.
God, you’re such a sight for sore eyes.
“Buck, you’re here,” you say breathlessly as you look him up and down, almost as if you don’t believe it.
Are you mad? Upset maybe? He can’t tell—or maybe it's that he always thinks of himself as a bother- and has him turning into a stuttering mess.
“Uh y-yeah,” he starts, averting his eyes as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t call and ask if it was okay to come over. I know it’s late, and I shouldn’t have but I just needed to see you—”
Before he can get out another word, you’re reaching out and grabbing his arm, pulling him into the warm apartment. He’s speechless, nearly stumbling over his own limbs as you close the front door and lock it quickly.
You don’t immediately turn to face him, instead choosing to lean against the door for a second.
He can feel you need a moment to gather yourself, so he waits and stays quiet.
Eyes flickering around your entryway which leads to your living room, he can see that whilst all the lights are out, there’s a faint glow coming from the TV screen. CNN appears to be on.
That’s a bit off to him, as he didn’t really think you were one for late night watching. He turns his attention back to you though, thinking he’ll have to ask you about it later.
When you finally face him there’s a deep frown on your face and furrowed brows.
Now he’s sure there must be something wrong. He takes a step towards you and rushes out, “___, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you so somehow.”
“Upset me?” You question with a sigh, shaking your head, “Gosh, you’re silly.”
And once again, you’re catching him off guard as you practically throw yourself into his arms, causing him to drop his bag. Not that he cares. Your arms loop around his neck, and whilst you bury your face in his chest, he reflexively wraps his around your back, pulling you in close.
Despite his worries, he can feel the emotions radiating off you, because he feels just the same way. Needy. Desperately needy.
So he relishes this moment, inhaling the familiar and cozy lavender scent that is so uniquely you. How good it feels to simply rub his hand up and down your back, and know you’re safe in his grasp.
“I’m not upset at all, just very happy and surprised that you’re really here… I can’t believe it,” you whisper after a moment, pulling back just enough to look at him through your lashes.
“I am,” he responds with a soft smile, tilting his head to the side slightly. He’s curious what you mean by that. “Why do you say that, sweetheart?”
“Because I’m so glad, I’ve been worried about you all night. The rest of the squad too. Are you all safe?” You question earnestly, worry causing your lips to turn downward.
“Wait what? Why have you been worried?”
“Because of the massive building collapse of course... it’s been all over the news, Buck. I knew the 118 would be there because it’s in y’all’s jurisdiction.”
“O-Oh,” Buck mutters as he loosens his arms around you, and pulls away as he blinks in surprise, his brain slowly processing your words.
So that was why you’ve been up and watching the news. Plus, worrying about him and the crew?
He feels like such an idiot. You shouldn’t have to be worrying. This was just like before with Ali.
Why did he really think that just because he wasn’t telling you about the especially dangerous calls you didn’t know? Of course you would know.
And now would you want to talk about it? What would you think when he said that he failed to rescue someone tonight? That because of his failure they were gone forever.
Unconsciously, Buck starts pacing around, thought after thought flying through his mind as he walks aimlessly into the living room and eventually sits down on your couch.
With the physical exhaustion, what happened on the call, and now the realization of this, he doesn’t have the strength to keep standing.
You trail after him, taking a seat by him and waiting until he glances at you to say something.
He’s not sure what you see on his face, but whatever it is has you reaching out and placing your hand over his gently.
“Baby,” you say soothingly, looking into his eyes, “Whatever you’re thinking—say it to me. There’s nothing wrong with letting me in, okay? I’m here for you.”
Your words are kind and soft, more than he deserves, and just like many times before, Buck finds himself melting in the presence of you. His fears and truth spilling out before he can stop him.
“I don’t like that you’ve been worrying about me, I-I hate that. You shouldn’t have to worry. That’s one of the reasons why I never tell you about these types of calls. I don’t want you to have to… feel that pressure—to start resenting our relationship because of it or to see me differently because of the outcomes...”
He pauses, taking in a deep breath to gather his thoughts.
You’re patient, squeezing his hand comfortingly to let him know you’re still listening.
“Or to know what a mess I am after shifts like that, how ashamed I am that I’m such a screw up. I lost someone tonight ___, I couldn’t get to them fast enough and…”
Buck can’t get anymore words out after that as he’s choked up from the tears welling in his eyes that he refuses to let fall. His breathing is heavy, his whole body hot, and vivid images are flashing through his mind. There’s a frustration at himself, because despite knowing it’s healthy to cry and feel these emotions, you shouldn’t be having to see this.
He turns to face away from you so you don’t have to and moves his hand out from under yours, so you can’t feel how shaky he is. Instead, Buck interlocks his hands together, clenching them together in his lap tightly because he can’t stop shaking.
It’s not a rejection. It’s Buck protecting you from himself.
A beat of silence passes between the two of you, and then another.
Buck begins to wonder if maybe now he’s really messed up. If maybe he should simply get up and show himself out the door right now. Besides, after what he just admitted to, your image of him must be utterly tarnished.
He’s taken out of his negative thoughts by the couch dipping slightly as you stand up.
Buck immediately looks towards you questioningly. The look on your face is unreadable, but deep emotions smolder in your irises.
Wordlessly, you move to sit on your knees, positioning yourself in front of him, as your gaze never leaves his. He can only watch curiously, as you gingerly cup your hands around his. Your touch is feather light and instantly soothing to him.
“Buck, is it okay if I tell you how I feel with complete honesty?” You ask gently.
“Erm,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “of course, you can always be honest with me.”
Though I’m still scared of what you could say, that this could be the moment you choose to leave me.
“Okay,” you murmur, exhaling softly, “The thing is Buck, I will never be able to wholly understand what you go through day to day, being a firefighter. It’s a job with a heavy load, and I see how you carry it, believe me I do. Even if you choose not to tell me about the harder aspect--those calls--I still notice. I see how you’re always a little bit distant, how I can tell there’s a million thoughts on your mind, heck, I hear the nightmares you have sometimes.”
Silent tears fall down Buck’s face as he listens intently to each word that comes out of your mind, love and truth wrapped tightly around them.
“So, yes I do worry, and I will always worry, but I will also trust that you’ll do whatever you have to so you can make it back to me. I could never resent you, judge you, or see you any differently because of what you do, and what might happen when you’re out on calls. I love you, and you have nothing to be ashamed of ever. So please, I understand that you need to cope and deal however works best for you, but I’m here to help you carry whatever you need.”
Buck isn’t sure how he got lucky enough to meet someone like you. How the universe decided that despite all the ideas he’s had about being unlovable, you’re here right now, saying this to him.
He dips his head down, overwhelmed with his emotions and love for you, as a few tears manage to fall on your joined hands. His mouth opens to apologize when he notices, but before Buck can place a chaste kiss to his forehead.
A small smile tugs at his lips, widening as you begin pressing butterfly kisses all over, from his temple to his nose, cheeks, and finally his lips.
The kiss is gentle, warm, and sweet. You always taste so addicting, and the pair of your lips languidly move together until you part, both of you a bit breathless. His tears have subsided by now, and so has his shaking.
Foreheads pressed together, both of your eyes flutter open at the same time. Buck brings his hand up to gently caress your cheek, no longer shaking as he hums, “Thank you so much.”
“You don’t need to thank me, baby.”
“I do--for the love you give me, the words you say, everything.”
“But, you give me all of that too, Buck.”
“You mean that?”
You lean back a bit at that, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Never doubt the massive capacity you have to give love to those around you, Evan Buckley.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, chuckling lightly at the slightly offended look on your face.
He’s relieved, happy, and so thankful all at once. The pain of the day isn’t gone, but somehow the weight feels like it’s been lifted a little, and he knows that’s because of you.
There’s things the two of you need to discuss, the way he hides his emotions, what happened, and how to deal moving forward, and he’s open to it all. But right now he’s tired, and he still needs time to decompress in his own way, only now he doesn’t want to hide that from you.
Would you be upset if he said that though? After all, you’d be up all night worrying, surely you were curious. His eyes flash away from your face and towards the TV screen, which is still on the news, but simply muted. Yeah, it would be rude to just stop the conversation here.
“Um, so, we should talk about this,” he starts, trying his best to sound determined.
However, as if reading his mind, you shake your head, saying, “We should, Buck, but not now. I can tell how exhausted you are, and all I want to do is get you into a warm bed. Though on second thought, you’ve probably not eaten, and you might want a shower… Hm, and oh…” You ramble on, naming various things he might need to do for his comfort.
Buck grins as you do so, nodding along as you stand and pull from the couch, leading him towards the kitchen table as you explain you cooked spaghetti tonight and saved him a plate.
“Wait,” he pauses, stopping behind you as you let go of his hand and open the fridge to retrieve it. “But, you didn’t know I was coming over tonight, why would you save me a plate?”
You go quiet as you grab the plate of the fridge and place it on the counter, avoiding looking at him as you bite your lip.
“Well, I just figure in case, you know? If you ever do decide to come over, I want to have something to give you.”
Buck blinks, thinking about how all the times he’s come over and you’ve had leftovers or something of the other to offer him. You’re always thinking of him.
He moves towards you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a gentle kiss to your neck, “Do you know how I love you?”
You giggle happily and tease, “I dunno.”
“Hm, well I’ll have to show you tonight, won’t I, sweetheart?”
“Please do,” you smile as you turn around in his arms and flit away with his plate of food to go heat it up, “but only after you’ve eaten, showered, and changed into fresh clothes.”
“Alright,” Buck agrees, moving to take a seat at one of the bar stools for the kitchen island and love in his eyes as watches as you move around the kitchen, humming sweetly.
After tonight, he never hesitates to go by your place again after a hard shift.