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When Buck asked Hen if it was wrong he was stoked there was an emergency because he was climbing the walls back at the house, he couldn’t imagine how wrong those words would feel after freeing the people from the truck.
He has a dehydrated kid in his hands, he’s not breathing and is unresponsive, and Buck is in the full helping mode. Seeing Hen kneeling next to the kid’s head, hearing Bobby call for help – even for a chopper, and they’ve only just started – makes him calm. They’re all helping. It will be alright.
He works on bringing the kid back, starts compressions, and he’s amazed and grateful that the parents don’t get in his way. He’s aware of their presence, kneeling at his shoulder, exhausted themselves. They’re calling their boy to wake up, to come back, but they’re staying put. Buck will do anything to give him back to them.
Javi, the boy’s name is Javi, finally takes a breath. His parents are thankful when Buck assures them that everything will be fine, trying to remember enough Spanish to get his meaning across. He’s barely there to hear their thanks; he goes back to the truck to help another person down, out of that heat.
The chopper lands nearby, standing by if they have to MEDEVAC someone. Buck doesn’t think it will be necessary if they get enough ambulances, but there are still people inside the truck.
‟Hey, here we go, here we go.” Buck gets them down, one by one, and they’re weak, but no one else is as bad as Javi was. ‟Easy, there you go. Keep them coming! There we go, that’s it.”
He looks away when he hears Hen screaming, ‟Hey! You dick!” And it’s just in time to see Hen body slam a man to the ground. ‟Where the hell you think you’re going?!” Hen puts her knee into the guy’s back. ‟Sick son of a bitch, whole families could have died in there!” Buck sees a few people coming her way and goes there himself. ‟Someone with a badge and a gun wanna put this trash in custody?!”
Buck gets there just as an LAPD officer cuffs the man. ‟Whew, that was badass!” he says and leans over the tape to smack Hen’s arm. He wants to make Hen feel better. ‟But I thought we weren’t here to blow off steam.”
Hen isn’t smiling at his attempt to make it better. ‟You know what you can blow,” she says with an icy tone of voice.
‟I’d say, hopefully me,” a man from behind Hen interjects, startling Buck and turning his brain offline. The man puts the police tape up, so Hen can go under it, but he keeps looking at Buck. ‟Hi, Hen,” he adds, and then finally looks at her.
‟Tommy!” she sounds surprised but not displeased.
Buck’s brain turns on again (ha!) and he finally closes his mouth. Hen greets the man with a side hug, and Buck registers that he’s dressed as a pilot, so he must be the one piloting the chopper. He’s big, easily Buck’s height, but has broader shoulders – kinda like the ones Buck wants to have, the ones he’s lifting and working out for – and he’s just bigger all around; like he’s got to his gym goal and is now just maintaining the weight and muscles ratio.
Buck may have first noticed his shoulders, but it’s the thighs that make him sigh – they’re thick and even though the pants don’t hug them tight, Buck can tell they’re massive when he steps away from Hen’s hug. He likes that. Right now he just doesn’t know if he likes that because he wants to have his own thighs just as big or because the man looks at him like he wants to get Buck between them—
(And, well. Buck learns that he wouldn’t mind. The man’s words are ringing in Buck’s mind – that was an innuendo, there’s no doubt about it, right? Buck didn’t just imagine this beefcake of a man straight up flirting his way in?)
‟And you are…?” The man, Tommy, asks, putting his hand out for Buck to take.
At the same time, Buck’s phone starts ringing and he has to make a decision – but it’s an easy one. Tommy is here in front of him, it would be rude to not say hi, and he doesn’t always have to be available via phone…
He shakes Tommy’s hand. ‟I-I’m Evan Buckley—” He stops before he can add his nickname, because Tommy grabs his palm in both of his and squeezes, turning Buck’s brain offline again.
‟Evan,” Tommy repeats. ‟Nice to meet you, Evan.”
Hen (Buck kinda forgot she’s there) snorts. ‟I can’t believe you,” she says to Tommy, but then looks at Buck with her eyebrow up, clearly intrigued. Maybe because Buck doesn’t take his hand back.
Tommy’s palms are nice. Big and strong. And warm.
And the look in his eyes is, yet again, not unfamiliar to Buck, but he only saw that in women who wanted to sleep with him. Tommy is definitely not a woman, but this look and earlier comment… Buck can’t unfreeze. There’s too many thoughts in his head and he’s so confused.
Not about the situation. Tommy couldn’t be more clearer. But about his own reaction.
There’s a distinctive lack of hard no on his part. There’s curiosity and intrigue, but nothing that would make him want to jump away.
To take his hand away.
Buck didn’t think he would ever look at another man like that.
‟Where’s Howie? I wanna say hi to him, too.” Tommy finally looks at Hen, smiling. ‟Is he not on your shift today?” Buck’s hand flinches in his and Tommy turns back, his face troubled as he looks between Hen and Buck. ‟Where’s Howie?” he repeats, letting Buck’s hand go.
Buck doesn’t know why but he stops Tommy, catching his fingers and squeezing them. He wants to maintain some kind of contact with this man while he figures out some things about himself. ‟Chim had an accident,” he explains.
Tommy steps up to him, his palm loose and pliant, but turns almost all the way to Hen. ‟What happened?”
‟Rebar went through his head,” answers Buck.
This time it’s Tommy’s fingers that spasm. Buck finally lets them go, and Tommy sighs and flexes them. He doesn’t look away from Hen.
‟He’s telling the truth,” Hen confirms. ‟It went right through his forehead. The doctors got it out, he still has two eyes, but…” she doesn’t finish.
‟Any brain damage?” Tommy asks. It’s the same question Buck had when Bobby broke the news to them.
‟He’s in a medically induced coma,” Buck explains. ‟We-we will know if he wakes up.”
‟If,” Tommy repeats softly. No one corrects it to ‘when’.
They’re still at the scene of a crime, so none of them flinch when there’s a cry and a shout, but it does shake the restless feeling off of them. ‟We need to get back to work,” says Hen.
‟Let me know about Howie?” asks Tommy. ‟If... if you still have my number.”
Buck lifts his eyebrows at that. Hen looks at Tommy over her glasses. ‟I still have it,” she confirms. ‟If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be this happy to see you earlier. You know that.”
There’s a story there, Buck thinks. Tommy smiles a little at the ground. ‟Wanted to be sure,” he says. ‟Call me? We can catch up?”
‟Sure.” Hen nods.
Buck wants to say something, he even opens his mouth, but Tommy is quicker.
‟And maybe I can get to know my replacement better?” He looks at Buck again, smiling wide, but still not as wide as before he knew about Howie. ‟I would love to meet you again.”
Hen rolls his eyes and mutters, ‟That’s why you want to meet, not to catch up with me,” but she gives Buck a few moments to answer.
Buck suddenly can’t speak. He swallows hard, and Tommy tracks that movement with his eyes, and Buck can feel himself blush when Tommy’s irises expand, and—
‟Sure,” Hen’s voice breaks through Buck’s haze, ‟We’ll let you know.” She catches Buck by his elbow. ‟C’mon, before Bobby sees we’re slacking. Bye Tommy!” And she tugs Buck away.
Buck is grateful, because otherwise he would be still standing there, looking like a fool.
‟Bye, Hen! See you later, Evan!” Buck hears behind him. He turns his head and lifts his hand in a quick wave. Tommy grins.
‟We’ll talk later,” Hen says to him and he squeezes her hand. And that’s it for now. Buck is grateful for that; they’re at a scene, they need to go back to helping people.
It’s not the time to have a crisis about men, their thighs, and big smiles.
Hen will go over it with him later, because she’s awesome, and Buck will either be more confused or more settled.
But first, back to helping people and hoping for Chim to come back to them.
Maybe he can do the maneuver when he comes back…