Chapter Text
Evan Buckley leaves home at eighteen.
He leaves home with nothing but the Jeep Maddie left him, and the clothes on his back. He spends his time travelling and bouncing from job to job, hoping to find something that feels right. His calling. The East Coast is his first stop; he goes to bartending school where he ends up working by the beach, picking up the hobby of surfing (and then sleeping) with any woman who looks his way. He drives down to the West Coast next; picking up a construction job before very quickly realising that it’s nowhere near as interesting as he initially thought, then tries out for the Navy Seals. It’s not terrible — the thrill is enough to keep him going, chasing more, and he passes the physical tests with flying colours — but he hates the whole ‘emotionless zombie soldier’ thing, and drops out quite early. He drives and drives from state to state until he finds himself in Peru, craving the smell of salt and the crash of waves at his feet. He picks up bartending again, if only to have something to do with his hands.
It’s about two months after he turns nineteen that a customer comes in who looks awful, not to be rude. His warm brown eyes are accompanied by heavy dark circles, his hair is short enough that it was probably buzzed recently; yet still somehow manages to be messy; and his lips are downturned in a frown. Evan welcomes him with a smile, but the man just grunts out an order of two beers. He spends hours at the bar downing bottle after bottle — he drinks so much that Evan becomes concerned about alcohol poisoning and, the next time he requests another bottle, he just slides him a glass of water. “I think I’d get arrested if I let you drink any more.”
The man clearly isn’t happy with the turn of events, but gulps down the water anyway, still frowning when the glass hits the counter. It’s then that he starts rambling, slurring his words thanks to the alcohol, about his parents, about someone called ‘Shannon,’ about a baby and a wedding and Evan can’t really keep up anymore. He keeps pouring him water and attending to other customers, while trying to also listen to the, clearly very distressed, man before him.
He learns by the end of the night that the man is called Eddie. He has a girlfriend (Eddie’s face scrunches up in disgust when he says the word, which has Evan confused at first) called Shannon, who got pregnant a few months ago after their first time sleeping together. His parents, being traditional Catholics, encouraged them to get married as soon as possible, and the wedding was a week ago; they’re in Peru for their honeymoon. Eddie groans through drunken tears that he doesn’t love Shannon, never wanted to marry her or have a kid, and he’s ‘too young for married life.’ Evan comforts him to the best of his ability, being strangers and all, and tells him maybe he could learn to love her. Eddie just shoots him daggers and shakes his head— then whines when it makes him dizzy— and tells him that sleeping with Shannon made him realise he really doesn’t like women, sexually or romantically.
Evan feels a pang of guilt shoot through him, and it’s then that he really, truly feels for Eddie. He knows what it’s like to be raised by Catholics— what it’s like to feel ashamed for who you love. It’s no wonder Eddie is so angry.
He also learns that Eddie decided to enlist. Eddie cries that he knows he shouldn’t run, that he should face the mess that he made, but he’s so scared and he needs the money anyway, so technically it’s not wrong, right? Evan doesn’t answer him, just gestures to the glass of water and sends him a sad smile. When the man finally calls an Uber and leaves, Evan is left alone in the bar to close up. He thinks back to his own life, thinks how he still hasn’t found his footing in the world. He ponders on the idea of the Army, which seems like a much tamer version of the Navy Seals.
Evan goes about his day as usual for the next couple weeks. Eddie comes back to the bar to drink away his sorrows a few more times before he heads home, ‘back to texas, where I’ll die a straight, upstanding father,’ he says with his face buried in his arms and a beer pressed against his cheek. Evan doesn’t stop thinking about the Army.
5 weeks after Evan meets Eddie, he enlists.
A loud bark of laughter pulls Buck from his daily session of reminiscing on a happier time, and he’s reminded of where he’s standing. His eyes flit up to the bold, white letters of “Station 118” plastered on the building, and on the engines parked not five feet from him. His fingers curl around his duffle bag as anxiety pools in his stomach, but he doesn’t let the sensation deter him. The Fire Academy had been a lot on him, physically and emotionally, but it was nothing compared to Afghanistan; so he powers through his swirling emotions and climbs the stairs of the loft.
He slips around a couple of firefighters who are just milling about and spots a table full of people, clearly enjoying a— is that a fully home cooked meal? Buck, although confused, tries not to question it. When he approaches, an asian man says something around a forkful of spaghetti, gesturing towards Buck. The man that’s sat at the head of the table, who has an impressive air of authority around him, turns to him with a smile, and Buck suddenly feels the need to impress.
“Uh… hi! Uhm— Evan Buckley, new recruit?” He introduces himself, and it’s almost a question more than an announcement. “I was told to report to Captain Nash…”
Buck notices the table falling silent and tries not to squirm under their attention. He may be a pretty confident guy, who goes headfirst into anything and everything he puts his mind to, but he also aims to please anytime he can. And he can’t help but feel like he’s being sized up by his new co-workers. Though understandable, it still makes his skin crawl a little.
It’s then that he notices the man at the head of the table’s face changes from a polite one to a confused one, glancing around the table. He points at another man and says, “You know a Captain Nash?” then to the asian man from before, “You?” Both of them shake their heads, and Buck grows increasingly sick with anxiety. Oh god, he’s already messed this up. Did he somehow mishear what station he was assigned to?
“Ah… Uh—” He fiddles with his bag straps, looking around frantically, like he’ll see someone or something that can somehow fix such a monumental fuck-up. But before he can spiral anymore, the man’s face falls into an amused smile as he pulls out an empty seat.
“Take a seat, Evan.”
An intense sensation of relief rushes through Buck’s system as the other firefighters break out into laughter, and he finds himself smiling as he drops his bag at his feet and settles at the table. “Buck, I go by Buck.”
The man, who Buck assumes must be Captain Nash, gives him a soft look once he’s comfortably seated. “Welcome to the 118, Buck.” He receives a clap on the shoulder to punctuate the introduction.
“Thank you.” Buck says, a little breathless, because there’s an assortment of delicious looking food in front of him and a lightness in the air that he hasn’t experienced since that fateful day in the train station. The asian man dumps a heap of spaghetti onto the large plate in front of him, sending him a grin. “Uh, this is— amazing. Is it— is it always like this?”
“Always.” Says the black woman on his right, a kind and friendly smile playing on her lips. Her hair is buzzed and her eyes have a wonderful twinkle to them, and Buck feels at ease by just her presence alone.
“Well, when Bobby’s in the Captain’s chair anyways.”
Buck blinks back the sting of tears, warmth filling him up comfortably. He looks around, eyes resting on each person for a few seconds, analysing their faces. Every single person there looks happy, and oh so content. He tries to find a word, something to describe the atmosphere he’s found himself in, but the only thing that comes to mind is ‘family.’ The thought makes him feel all fuzzy inside.
Buck dips his fork into the plate of food, trying— and failing— to hide the upturn of his lips. “I think I might be in the right place.”
Hen doesn’t consider herself a nosy person.
Curious? Sure. But nosy? Not really. But the new probie, Evan “Call me Buck” Buckley, has been working with the 118 for 2 months now, and she knows almost nothing about him. He’s a pretty happy-go-lucky guy; all bright-eyed innocence and fun facts about incredibly random topics; typical golden retriever white boy energy.
She appreciates his enthusiasm and the joy he brings to the job, even if he’s a bit reckless. He has the bad habit of throwing himself head first into danger, consequences be damned, that has gotten himself into trouble more times than she can count on one hand. She’s sure she’s seen at least ten more grey hairs on Bobby’s head since Buck joined.
But, fun facts and recklessness aside, Hen hasn’t learned anything about Buck. Despite all of his energy and excitement, and confidence that’s weirdly endearing, he doesn’t really talk about himself. The 118 are pretty open with one another — she knows that Bobby is a recovering addict, that Jones has an intense fear of the dark, that Addison’s divorce was finalised last week — but, no matter how many times Hen, Chimney, and even Bobby have made openings to start a personal conversation, Buck just hasn’t taken them up on it.
She tries to pry information out of him, they all do, by talking about themselves first. The whole ‘give and take’ method.
Chimney tries by talking about his girlfriend. He brings up their most recent date; they went to a beautiful restaurant that’s only a couple blocks from the station, lit entirely by candlelight and accompanied by flowers of all kinds lining the entryways. Buck listens intently, asking questions about Chim’s relationship and congratulating him when Chim mentions the upcoming proposal. When the conversation gets turned on him and he’s asked if he’d take anyone there on a date, Buck just shrugs and says fancy restaurants aren’t really his thing.
Addison tries by mentioning her sister, who just recently bought her first house. She chats with him about the cost and the layout of the kitchen, and how thrilled her sister's been at reaching this stage of her life. They talk back and forth about how expensive housing is and Addison drills on about her dream home. When she asks Buck what his dream house might look like, he just half-smiles and says something along the lines of “anything I can fit a family into, really.”
Hen tries by bringing up her wife, Karen, and her son, Denny. Buck lights up at the mention of Denny, so that’s a good start.
She sings praise of her family, droning on and on about what her wedding was like, Denny’s first day of elementary school, attending his school’s careers day and so-forth. Buck, always an active listener, is nodding along and excitedly questioning for further information.
“Denny has this huge love for the zoo, too.” Hen lets out with a breath of laughter, picturing her son practically slamming himself onto the rails of the penguin exhibit. “He’s fascinated by most animals, but especially animals that live in cold habitats, like penguins and snow-leopards. Once we spend a day at the zoo, you can’t get him to stop chattering about it for at least two weeks.”
Hen’s about to say something else when she notices that, while the smile hasn’t completely left his face, Buck’s expression has dialled down by about 80%. His fingers are absentmindedly tracing a tattoo on his arm, that she quickly realises is a cartoonish bear of some sorts. He’s looking at Hen, but he’s got this faraway look in his eyes, like he’s lost somewhere that isn’t right here, in the fire station. “Hey, Buckaroo, you alright?”
It takes him a second to come back but, when he does, he blinks a few times before letting a grin take over his features. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking.”
Hen raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “‘Bout what?”
“I always wanted kids,” He says, almost sadly, his fingers still lingering over the tattoo. “I love them, y’know? Always wanted to be a dad someday.”
It’s only now that Hen realises that the look in his eyes is one of yearning, and she feels herself soften. “Well, 26 is plenty young. I’m sure you’ll get to be a dad one day.” Instead of looking reassured, Buck’s eyes gloss over and he rips his gaze away from her to stare at a wall.
“I hope so.”
Hen, becoming increasingly confused and concerned, is about to ask him if there’s something she’s missing, but then the alarm is blaring and the conversation is shoved to the side. But, even in the chaos of firefighters pulling their turnouts on and shoving into the truck, Hen doesn’t miss the way Buck wipes his cheeks of a few tears.
“Buckley, what the fuck are you doing?” Eddie hisses, roughly grabbing Evan’s arm and pulling him back down into the mud. Evan grapples with the strength before accepting defeat and laying back down, sending a glare the man’s way. “You’re gonna get yourself killed!”
Evan rolls his eyes and snatches his arm back, ignoring the anger in Eddie’s eyes. “Oh please, I know what I’m doing.” An aggressive kick to his shin makes Evan curse and flip him off, pissed he has to be in such close proximity to someone so cocky.
Almost like he can read Evan’s mind, Eddie scoffs and puts his attention back to the warzone around them. The whirring of bullets flying over their heads and a nauseatingly close explosion has both men sobering, petty arguments on their tongues rapidly dissipating.
It’s not that Evan hates Eddie Diaz. As a matter of fact, he admires him, quite a lot.
Eddie is a closeted gay man with an unstable marriage and a newborn baby at home, yet has no trouble shutting it all off the moment they’re on the battlefield. He’s strong, capable and incredibly street-smart but is also compassionate and so kind it makes Evan feel a little sick with awe. But it’s also all of those things that make Evan dislike him; because he is none of those things himself. Eddie is so confident and for good reason, because no one is as good at their job as Eddie Diaz.
So, yeah, Evan is a little jealous. And if he takes that out on the unfairly attractive and competent Medic he’s partnered with, then that’s between him and the universe.
They lay low for a while until one of their teammates returns, dragging a body with them. Evan flinches, even though he feels he should be used to all the death by now, but then he realises that the body is actually alive and groaning in agony.
Him and Eddie exchange glances before moving into action, taking as much information they can get. The injured man, Carter, was caught in a nearby explosion and retained an injury to the abdomen. Eddie looks him over, eyes flitting over the wound, while Evan questions their other teammate, Andrews, who dragged Carter to them.
It’s only when Eddie sucks in a sharp breath that Evan stops, immediately crawling over to his partner. “What? How bad is it?”
“The wound itself isn’t life-threatening.” Eddie says, firm. But Evan can see that his hands are shaking and there’s a nervous air to him that tells him there’s more to it. “But there’s live ammo embedded in it.”
And, oh. That’s not good.
Carter, clearly too delirious with pain to understand what’s going on, moans and shifts to roll over. Eddie’s eyes widen with panic and he pins the man down, and Evan follows suit. “Buckley, I need you to get out of here.”
Before the words are even fully registering in his ears, Evan is shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I’m not leaving you here.”
Eddie doesn’t look at him, but Evan can see the way his lips purse and his eyebrows furrow with frustration. But he doesn’t care, because he may not like Eddie but they’re partners and he’s not the kind of guy who would abandon his partner.
“I’m going to attempt to remove it.” The words have a bite to them, Eddie’s attempt at using venom to get his way. “If it blows, then we’re all dead. And you know that can’t happen.”
Laughing incredulously, despite the fear that’s curling into his ribcage, Evan puts more weight onto where his hands are pinning Carter in place. “Then we’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t.” When Eddie opens his mouth, probably about to shout at him again, Evan cuts him off. “If you think for even a second that I’m going to just let you do this alone, then you’re sorely mistaken. We are partners whether we like it or not so if you’re doing this, then so am I. End of discussion.”
For a second, Evan thinks that Eddie might spin around and punch him square in the face for his insistence but, instead, the man just sighs and tilts his head up to look at him with an exasperated expression. “Dios, you’re insane.”
Evan chuckles. “Never said I wasn’t.”
A moment of silence passes between them before Carter is squirming again and the two men start to work.
Removing the ammo is a terrifying experience, one that Evan would greatly appreciate if he never has the bad luck to undergo again, and by the end of it, his adrenaline is pumping so hard that he can barely hear Eddie’s voice over the roaring in his ears. “You're a badass under pressure, Buck.”
Evan blinks. Once, twice, before he registers the words being said to him. Then he feels his face flush. He finds himself preening at the praise, a lopsided smile finding his lips. “Who, me?”
“Hell yeah,” Eddie says, tone serious. “You can have my back any day.”
Evan can tell the redness on his cheeks is beginning to creep onto his ears and down his neck, and he stumbles over trying to find the right thing to say. “Yeah… or, you know, you could—” he fumbles a little, trying not to give away just how much he appreciates the acknowledgement, “you could have mine.”
Clearly amused by his poorly-hidden joy, Eddie snorts and grins, eyes crinkling at the outer corners and brows turning upwards. Evan takes in the expression on his partner’s face with surprise, realising he’s never seen him smile quite like that before, and then blushes even further when he realises how delighted it makes him.
Later that evening, when they’re no longer in active danger, and are instead semi-relaxed into uncomfortable bunks at four in the morning, Evan turns to a half-asleep Eddie with a smirk.
“So, Buck, huh?”
Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion for a second before understanding hits him, and Evan relishes in the blush that coats his face in response. “Uh, yeah. Is that— is that a problem?” He whispers, turning on his side to fully face the blond. “Would you prefer Evan? Or should I stick with Buckley?”
Evan lets out a contented sigh, bringing his arms up to stretch over his head with a yawn. “Nah, Buck’s good. Never had anyone call me that before.”
“Oh, okay.” Lips twitching at the corners, clearly pushing down a smile, Eddie closes his eyes again. “Good. Then it can be our thing.”
Chimney feels his eye twitch as he watches Buck politely turn down yet another gorgeous woman.
It’s not even the second, or the third time— no, it’s the ninth time that he’s been hit on just this week and, every single time, he’s turned each and every one of them down. Chim just doesn’t get it. Okay, yeah, maybe he’s a little bit salty that Buck is the one getting all the attention when Chimney is the guy who just had his proposal go wrong and proceeded to get dumped. Just a little bit.
But, rejected proposal aside, Chim can’t understand why someone like Buck — all classic hollywood charm; bright blue eyes, blond hair, big muscles, goofy grin, etc — wouldn’t be interested in dating. He’s young and conventionally attractive, all it takes is one word and he’s got any woman, and sometimes men, wrapped around his fingers.
So, why?
Chimney is determined to get to the bottom of it.
That’s why, when the 118 are packing up the next morning at the end of their 24 hour shift, Chim all but corners Buck in the locker room. He tries to make the conversation as casual as possible, though he’s not sure he succeeds.
“What’s up with you and all those women?” Christ, that sounds weird.
Buck, from where he’s stood by his locker, shirt half-buttoned and eyebrows raised in confusion, just stares at him. “What?”
Chim rolls his eyes and flops down onto the bench, kicking off his shoes very gracefully, thank you very much, and just shrugs. “Y’know, you’re always getting hit on. Like, that woman from the pile-up earlier was absolutely stunning, yet when she asked for your number after flirting with you, you turned her down.”
There’s some shuffling from beside him, and Chim looks up to see Buck uncomfortably avoiding his gaze. He wonders if he’s somehow crossing a line, considering Buck has been quite the mystery for the 3 months they’ve known him, but then the guy rolls his shoulders and closes his locker with a shrug.
“Just, not my type, I guess.”
This time, it’s Chim’s turn to raise his brow. He doesn’t want to stereotype, he’s never been a big fan of those, but Evan Buckley definitely seems like the kind of man to be into stereotypically attractive bimbos. But, instead of saying that, he settles on the nicer option. “If you’re not attracted to women, no one’s gonna judge you, man.”
Clearly surprised that Chim isn’t beating around the bush, Buck’s mouth drops open in shock, but only briefly before he schools his expression into a softer, more controlled surprise. “Well, I appreciate that. ‘Cause I am Bi.”
But then he’s grabbing his duffle bag and chuckling a little bit, amused.
“But, really, they just aren’t my type.”
Chim smiles, dropping to rest his elbows on his knees while smacking his gum, squinting to look up at his teammate. “Then what is your type?”
Buck grins, toothy and wide, already stepping out of the locker room as his keys jingle between his fingers. “Dark and broody.” He says, laughing. “Like, real mysterious.”
With that, Chim is left alone, not really any less confused.