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"Yeah, but no matter how hard you trained, it's different when you serve." Eddie looked at Buck with a vaguely apologetic expression.
Buck stared back for a beat, because his brain literally stuttered for a second there. The team was sitting down for lunch after a morning mainly filled with chores and the blond had absolutely no idea what they were even talking about. Buck blinked in confusion and tried to backtrack the conversation. However he'd been busy mentally compiling his grocery list and had obviously missed a big chunk of the discussion as a result. Nothing made sense.
Eddie patted him on the shoulder. "I know SEAL training is really tough and it's great you stuck it out for so long." Here the older man squeezed his shoulder and nodded at him with encouragement.
Buck felt his eyebrows rise in response. 'I'm not feeling patronised, I'm not feeling patronised.' He chanted in his head. If he did it hard enough, would it make it a reality?
Eddie tilted his head a little, catching his eyes with a slightly tense smile. "But training and serving... really, they are very different." A hand patted his forearm.
'Too late.' The blond thought morosely. 'I'm definitely feeling patronised.'
Several things jumped out at Buck at once. The most glaring: calling training, where being tortured is part of the course work, 'tough'. It was technically an adequate description, he supposed, but it seemed somewhat insufficient. Then there was the implication that serving at some cushy stateside duty station is somehow more 'real' than SEAL training. And lastly, there was the fact that Eddie felt it necessary to point out to Buck that mere education could not completely prepare for reality. Even though the brunette knew for a fact that Buck was a firefighter and thus had to have went through the academy and as a result would have to have learned by now that the best instruction in the world, still could only teach you so much.
Scratch that. He really, really could not get over the fact that more than two and a half years of highly specialised and brutal training was being compared to serving some boring stateside job, like maintaining military vehicles or manning a guard booth. All necessary and very much appreciated. Very much! And not something he could ever do, he knew. However it was like comparing a candle (which provides light!), to a fucking volcano. Sure, they are on the same plane of existence and both share the same atmosphere, but that's where the comparison fucking ends.
Buck didn't know how to respond, so he just slowly said. "Yeah, I know." With a slight emphasis on the last word. Eddie gave him a polite, but somewhat disbelieving look. "Knowing and experiencing are two different things, though. I know you have quite the imagination, but that doesn't cover it. Yapping on like you have any idea about this because you've had some instruction? It's condescending." There was an angry look simmering in those brown eyes and Buck wondered what Eddie saw when looking at him.
He heard Chim snicker in the background and Hen shushing him. He didn't... Know what to do with any of this. Their probie chastised one of the firefighters in front of the rest of the team. And everyone just reacted with sniggers or hums of understanding. Including their captain, who had to have read his file and who had to give him leave for his reserve drills every few months, depending on when his shifts fell.
It was all very bizarre.
He had no idea how to navigate this, so he simply stuffed his face with the food Bobby had made. It tasted like cardboard right now, but he just packed it away so he could keep up his caloric intake.
This is what he had learned to do, after all. In the field. In a warzone. As a SEAL.
It was weird how even a military guy like Eddie never seemed to make the connection between SEAL training having to take place after boot camp (and thus after being sworn in), and the contract that every recruit signs and that becomes legally binding as soon as you give your oath of enlistment. Apparently, his team believed the Navy happily waived the penalty for breaking contract. Or maybe, most likely, they believed him to be rich enough to buy it out. Well, newsflash, people: you can't buy out an enlistment contract anymore. Ergo, Buck must have served.
As if his parents would ever have given him money, anyway... They'd payed for the basics: food, medical treatment, shoes, clothes and the perfunctory educational toy. Well, until Maddie went to college and they could drop the toy. They had been happy when he enlisted at 17. Not having to share a home with him or waste money on him a year sooner than they expected? Sign him up!
Look, he wouldn't ever have gotten a scholarship for college. He wasn't smart enough for that. Or his ADHD got too much in the way, whatever. He just wasn't built for school and that was alright. Consequently, going to college only to fail out while accruing debt, didn't seem like the brightest idea. And joining the military allowed him to leave that cold house at 17. Win-win.
All that money he supposedly had, however? He fought for it, he bled for it, he killed for it. He fucking earned it.
His knowledge, his skills, his instincts, his savings account, he had to work for it. Nothing had been given to him. He'd had no-one to help him. His parents had washed their hands of him as soon as he enlisted. Maddie already barely had any contact with him at that time and was very unhappy with his choice, so there was no support from that corner either. And all his friends were still in highschool or just off to college and they lost contact pretty soon.
He had been completely on his own. And he survived. More than that, he thrived.
---
He wondered why they even had this conversation. And where that certainty came from about his enlistment. It was just... weird.
He also wondered if he would have missed the undercurrent that drove this view of him and how much Eddie bought into it, if he hadn't been here for this shift. He shouldn't have been, after all. He had switched shifts with Jenkins, because his wife was pregnant and he had wanted to accompany her to her 20 weeks sonogram earlier that week. Buck had been happy to help out, but then Jenkins got food poisoning and Buck had had to come in today too. Luckily the wife had ended up eating something different, so she and the unborn baby were fine. Thank fuck.
And that's why he was here today. Learning something new. Apparently.
---
Buck was slouched into an armchair up on the loft with the rest of the team spread out around him. They were well over 12 hours into a quiet tranquil shift and all chores had already been taken care of. People were either playing Mario kart, watching others play Mario kart, talking or reading. Buck was scrolling down a Wikipedia article, though he had no clue what it was about.
The others had cottoned on to him 'acting sullenly' ever since he got 'caught out' during lunch. Retreating to the bunk room would only draw more attention to his mood and he could do without more commentary from the peanut gallery, thanks. Eddie had had the audacity to shake his head in disappointment several times during the course of the afternoon. By now, Buck was so furious, he felt ill. He didn't look angry, he knew. Whenever he reached this level of rage, he got quiet and blank, he always had. His SEAL training had only sharpened that tendency and he was slowly slipping deeper into that mindset. It couldn't be good. So he scrolled and he concentrated on breathing in a certain pattern and he tried not to look at his colleagues like they were targets.
It was proving... Difficult.
When his phone started to ring, he startled so badly he almost hurled it across the loft. He fumbled for a while, finally caught the thing and answered the call without even looking at who was calling. Frankly, it didn't really matter. This gave him the perfect excuse to hole up in the bunk room and he was going to use it. Hell, he was even willing to pretend to be on the phone long after the caller had hung up. Yes, he was desperate.
"Go for Buck." He said into his phone, while getting up from the armchair. Several heads turned towards him and he grimaced slightly. He used to love having his teammates express interest in his life, but this was more and more beginning to feel like they were all a kettle of vultures, circling. True, nobody had really moved in the past hour, so the movement would have caught their eye. However, there truly was no good reason to keep watching and listening in as if it was such a miracle someone would actually call him. Had it always been like this?
"Hey man, everything good?" That was 'Hondo' Harrelson, former marine, now SWAT sergeant. Buck had worked with him once on a joint mission overseas and they had clicked really well. He had been glad to run into him at the VA centre and had resumed their friendship eagerly. "Fuck, I completely forgot to cancel." Buck scrubbed his face roughly. This was embarrassing. "I'm on shift, let me get somewhere private."
"Got a hot date, Buckley?" Chimney called out. The blond glanced at him and briefly wondered whether he should tell them he'd had a VA meeting planned tonight. What an idiotic thought. "I was supposed to meet up with friends." Buck answered, instead. Chim laughed loudly in response. "You expect us to believe that?" The older man rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You don't have any friends. No phone sex, okay? Nobody wants to smell your spunk."
"Ooh, burn!" Hen high-fived Chimney, while his other teammates laughed and catcalled. Buck looked around and saw only a few uncomfortable faces, including Eddie's. He had no clue what they were feeling uncomfortable about, though. Chim's 'joke' or the thought of Buck's semen? Nobody spoke up, so it would remain a mystery. Still, this told him a lot. Eddie had a good excuse. Going up against the favoured son as a probie would be a stupid move. The rest, however? Well, the rest were telling him how they really feel.
And Buck? Buck finally believed them. "Good to know." He said curtly and walked away. He didn't look back.
---
Buck made his way outside and leant a shoulder against the wall with a loud sigh. He would be able to hear the alarm from here and get back inside swiftly. He just needed some fresh air for a minute. He cracked his neck and brought his phone to his ear again. "How much did you hear?"
"That was your team?" Hondo asked quietly. "Yeah." Buck breathed. The blond stared blankly at the mostly empty street ahead. "That was some deeply toxic shit. Chimney?" Hondo said tersely. "Yeah." Buck confirmed.
He couldn't deny this any longer. That conversation during lunch had ripped the rose-coloured glasses right off his face and he'd been frankly astonished at how many digs there were actually made during the course of the day. All aimed at his intelligence, competence and his supposed promiscuity.
Yes, Hen, he did know what that word meant. Unfathomable, right? Indubitably difficult to grasp.
"And where exactly was your captain?" Hondo was starting to sound angry. "He was, uh, he was there. And before you ask, he wasn't laughing, but he was smiling and he didn't reprimand anyone. Look, I know, okay? I know. Today has been an eye-opener." Buck scrubbed a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends a little. He imagined the look on the other man's face and he couldn't suppress a tiny, slightly hysterical giggle. "You alright, man?" Hondo sounded worried now. "Need me to come by?"
"I just imagined your face right now." He giggled again. "Yes, well, I am looking very, very unimpressed. This is no good, kid. This is bad leadership." Hondo rumbled. Buck heard him take in a deep breath. "You know what you got to do." The older man spoke softly, as if it would hurt less when said that way.
Buck groaned and started to pace back and forth in a short line by the door. He cast his mind back over the last shift. Going over all the little barbs thrown at him, even before that awful lunch. So it couldn't have all simply been a reaction to his 'lying' and his 'sullenness'. He wasn't just inviting corrections with his 'immaturity'.
He used to think they were only jokes. He used to think that it was mainly Chim. He turned out to be wrong on both counts. How could he have missed that? It was glaringly obvious!
How many times had he seen Hen and Chimney high-five after a 'great' burn. How many times had he swallowed down his hurt, compacted it into a tiny box and stamped on it for good measure, so he could smile and laugh with his team and pretend everything was just fine.
How many times had they let him?
He came to a halt, staring at the asfalt beneath his feet. Standing still with bunched up shoulders and an arm clutched around his middle. As if that could keep the shards of his broken heart inside. He scoffed at himself. Ridiculous. But with the warmth of that imagined love torn away, all he was left with was the cold, hard truth. Those weren't jokes, it was verbal abuse. And those weren't friends, they were only people that had been forced to put up with him. Maybe this was how they coped.
His breath hitched and he pressed his trembling lips together. He concentrated on his breathing: in through the nose, out through the mouth. 'This was just a bump in the road', he told himself. Soon enough he would cut loose the dead weight, and be free. He'd done it before, he could do it again.
It wasn't going to be easy, though. This had been real for him. He'd loved these people for almost two years now. Flipping that switch? It only compartmentalised his feelings, it didn't erase them. He still had to open that box and work his way through. And let go.
And the last would be the hardest part. Because he didn't want to. Not really.
Buck walked back to that patch of wall right by the door and sagged against it. "Can we meet, tomorrow?" He asked roughly. "Of course. 1800 hours at my place or 1700 hours at my office." The answer was immediate. "I'll be the handsome man ordering you dinner." Buck huffed a laugh. Look at that, an example of healthy teasing, seen in the wild. Everyone, take pictures!
"I just really need a friend right now." Buck admitted. His heart squeezed a little. What if he'd imagined this friendship too? Putting himself out there like this was so fucking hard right now. But he needed to know. "And you got one right here." Hondo responded swiftly. "And I know a couple of other guys and girls who are your friends and who'd hang out with you gladly. You're not alone, Buck. We've got you."
Yep, there he went, tears finally tracking down his cheeks. Buck angrily looked up at the sky. "Fuck you, Hondo, I'd managed not to cry until now." The other man chuckled softly. "You want to talk about it?"
Buck shook his head. "Tomorrow?" He asked instead. "Tomorrow." Hondo confirmed. "I can still come by if you need me to."
Buck stepped back from the wall and stared at the door with a grimace. "No, I need some sleep, it's been an exhausting day." He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. Just the idea of bunking down made him more tense. "Best to do it now, so that I've hopefully caught some z's by the time the rest goes to bed. I don't think I'll be able to sleep around them and I don't want to test it. Who knows how I'll wake up." Luckily, he was a light sleeper. Unluckily, sometimes when he woke up, he came up swinging. If he spent the night on a couch in the loft he would hear anyone come up from the bunk room. There, nice solution.
Hondo sighed. "You know this isn't sustainable." Buck kicked the ground and hummed. "Yeah, but I also know I will have emailed HR asking for a meeting by tomorrow night at the latest, since you, Hondo Harrelson, will have been staring at me with that unimpressed face of yours until I did. Do. Whatever. I'm confusing myself now, ugh!"
Buck could hear the smirk in the other man's voice when he said, "Yeah, I will." He rolled his eyes, but he let the warmth of Hondo's care fill him to the brim.
---
He had at least one true friend in his life and he didn't need a whole lot more than that. Because this? This was exactly what he needed. This... was precious.