Chapter Text
There’s a strangeness in the air of the 118's bunkroom; like a drop in pressure before a storm, a barely perceptible shift which heralds change. Breaths take longer to slow to slumber, bodies turn over and over in restless sleep, the firehouse alarms shock them to wakefulness again.
The body intuits what the mind has yet to perceive.
It waits for the first roll of thunder.
“Has anyone bothered to tell them that cleaning the changing room windows is not a two-man job?”
Julie Rosen leans against the doorframe of the bunkroom, gaze directed down the corridor towards the engine bay of the firehouse. She picks idly at the cuticles of her left hand, her brow slightly furrowed.
“Neither is sweeping the bunkroom,” Eric Smitt, sweeping the bunkroom, shoots back. “Yet here you are.”
“That’s different, I’m not helping.”
Eric narrows his eyes.
“Something’s up with Buckley,” Julie comments, ignorant of his expression as she continues to watch the other firefighters down the hall.
Eric jabs at her feet with the broom, forcing her to side-step into the corridor before resuming her position. “Something’s always up with Buckley.”
“Different ‘up’. He’s being weird with Eddie.”
“Again, how is this different from normal?”
“Forced. His smile isn’t reaching his eyes.”
Eric stops sweeping, propping his hand on the end of the broom as he looks at her sardonically. “‘His smile isn’t reaching his eyes’? Do you hear yourself?”
Julie finally turns her head to him. “What? It’s not!”
“He’s a man in his thirties, not a romantasy protagonist.”
“What would you know about romantasy?”
“I know that it feels like half my paycheck is going to feeding Sheryl’s Barnes & Noble addiction right now.”
Julie snorts. “My condolences. Point still stands: he's being weird. Something's up.”
“Five bucks says everything’s fine.”
She grins and stretches out her hand. “You never learn, do you.”
Buck and Eddie trudge into the bunkroom, sweat, soot, and the scent of smoke clinging to their exhausted forms. Eddie tugs his damp t-shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor by his bunk, while Buck roots through his locker for his shower caddy.
“What time did you say the appointments were tomorrow?” Buck asks, knocking his deodorant to the floor as he extracts the caddy.
Eddie shoots him a look, eyes darting to the empty doorway. “From three o’clock.”
“How many of them?”
“Got four viewings so far, maybe a fifth.”
Buck’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh, that’s good. Shouldn’t be too hard to convince one of them to take it. What time do you want me to get there to help?”
“You really don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Buck cuts in. “Property Brothers, remember?”
“Yeah. Thanks, man.”
Buck turns to the door and then pauses, his towel dangling from one hand. “Hey, do you think he’s going to be okay?”
Eddie, now leaning against the ladder of his bunk, unzipping his boots, looks up. “Who?”
“The dog, the beagle from the shelter. What if no one adopts him?”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Buck. Cute, well-behaved—mostly. Someone will take him home in no time.”
Buck sighs. “I don’t get how someone could do that—abandon a pet, I mean.”
“Maybe they didn’t want to. Maybe they couldn’t afford to keep them any more, or had to move somewhere that didn’t allow pets. Pepa once had to give up her cat because her mother-in-law had to move in with her and she was like, super allergic to her.”
“To her mother-in-law?”
“Her mother-in-law to the cat,” Eddie corrects.
“The cat’s mother-in—”
“No, the mother-in-law was allergic to the cat,” Eddie interrupts, seeing where this is going. At the glint in Buck’s eye, Eddie clarifies further, gesticulating to emphasise his point. “ Pepa’s mother-in-law was allergic to Pepa’s cat.”
Buck grins. “I know. Pepa told me about it. Said she regretted it; her mother-in-law hissed and spat more than the cat did—her words.”
“Yeah, that sounds like her.”
“Pepa or her mother-in-law?”
“I’m not doing this with you right now.”
Buck tosses his towel over his shoulder. “Spoil-sport. I’ll get to yours like 1pm tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
Alex Quintana strolls through the doorway, their LAFD duffel bag slung over their shoulder. “Buckley brought a dog in?” they ask the present occupants.
“Yeah, it’s the one from last shift,” Andre Romero confirms, propped against the end of the bunk nearest the door.
“The one he nearly killed himself rescuing?”
Eric, seated on his bed and stuffing his pillow into its case, nods. “The very same.”
“Why’s it here?”
Andre, Eric, and Julie shrug in tandem.
“Does Cap know?”
Andre peers out the door. “Just found out from the looks of it.”
“Is he pissed?” asks Julie.
He continues to watch the scene outside for a moment, frowning. “He looks about five seconds away from becoming a post on the ‘dads who didn’t want pets’ subreddit.”
“Which is to say...?”
“That Buckley can get away with anything.”
Alex sighs, tossing their duffel into their locker. “Every fucking time.”
“Yeah, what was that about the other night at the rescue?” asks Eric. “If I ran off without Andre, Cap would have my guts for garters.”
“And Diaz just walking out without him, too?” Alex adds.
“And they both get off scot-free as usual.”
Andre interrupts them with a flap of his hands, leaning part way out the door. “Wait, fuck, shut up, something’s happening.”
Julie hops to her feet, craning her neck for a better view of the engine bay. “What?”
“I don’t know, Buck just said something and Eddie looked pissed about it and everyone's staring.”
“What are they saying?” asks Eric.
“I can’t hear, shut up!”
“Andre! Go over there and find out!”
“Fucking—” Andre cuts himself off, throwing a disgruntled look to the others before jogging out of the room. Eric, Alex, and Julie gather around the doorway, peering after him.
Andre rejoins them after a couple of minutes, shaking his head. “Fuck.”
“What happened?” asks Julie.
“Eddie just gave Cap his notice.”
Alex looks shocked. “What?”
“Three weeks apparently. He’s moving to Texas to be with his kid.”
“Oh,” Alex lets out a breath. “That’s fair enough, I guess.”
Julie spins to face Eric. “Pay up, Smitt.”
“What?”
“I told you something was up with Buck.”
Smitt looks for a second like he means to protest, before his shoulders sag and he fishes in his pocket for his wallet, pulling out a crumpled note. Reluctantly, he holds it out to Julie.
“Y’know, I don’t think your wife’s romance novels are the cause of your financial problems,” she chirps, plucking it from his fingers.
“Fuck off.”
They all freeze as Eddie walks in, his uniform clutched in his fingers.
“Hey guys, what’s up?” His demeanor is subdued, a tightness to the set of his shoulders. His eyes skim over those of the people gathered in the bunkroom, never resting long enough to connect.
“Oh, nothing, just admiring Buck’s new dog,” Julie fills in when the other three’s mouths fumble for a response.
He scoffs, brushing past the others to his bunk, tossing his uniform onto it unceremoniously.
“What’s up with, uh, you?” asks Alex, earning themself an elbow to the ribs from Andre.
Eddie turns to look at them all, assessing. “You heard too, huh?”
Andre shrugs guiltily. “It’s a shame to lose you, but we get it. We’ll miss you ‘round here.”
“Eh, I don’t know, maybe I’ll have a better chance at winning poker night without you around,” Julie jokes.
Eddie offers a wry smile in response. “Maybe you just need to get better at poker.”
“I ever tell you you’re kind of a bitch sometimes, Diaz?”
“Constantly.” He grins.
Julie gives him the finger. “Come on, get changed so we can start your farewell tour.”
It's a few hours later when Hen and Chimney troop into the room, and wordlessly set about making their beds, matching bemused expressions etched onto their faces as they work.
A couple of minutes go by in silence, before—
“Lot of snarky comments for a ca—”
“A lot of snarky comments for a call!”
Hen sits heavily on her half-made bunk. “I guess it’s to be expected, really.”
Chimney hums his agreement from the top bunk. “And the dog, that’s proje—”
“Oh, yeah, 100% projection.”
They exhale heavily.
After a moment, Hen adds, "It's crazy that he's fucking moving though, right?"
"Oh, totally. He hasn't even visit—"
"He hasn't even visited! Exactly!"
Chimney leans over the bars of his bunk to look at Hen below him. “So what’s the plan? Is this one of those times where we interfere, or should we leave them to it?”
“I mean, they are adults…”
“…so is that for or against meddling?”
“They should probably figure this out themselves.”
“But will they?”
Before Hen can respond, there’s a pitter-patter of feet and a blur of white and brown fur skids across the floor and shimmies under one of the bunks.
“Blaze!” Buck's footsteps are far less subtle as they thunder down the hall to the bunkroom, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking on the shiny floor. He bursts into the room, taking no note of Hen and Chimney watching from their bunk. “Blaze, where’d you go, boy? Come on, I can’t have you running off on me, too.”
Hen and Chim exchange a look.
Blaze sticks his head out from under the bed, eyes bright and tongue lolling.
“Cap said he couldn’t be in here, Buck,” Hen reminds Buck, startling him slightly.
“Yep, sorry, he just ran off. Blaze, come here boy.”
The dog obeys this time, wriggling out from under the bunk and bounding towards Buck’s outstretched hands. Buck grabs his collar to guide him out the room, waving a hand in farewell to the other two.
A beat passes.
“I’ll speak to him if it’s not sorted by next shift,” says Hen.
“Why do you get to be the one to do it?”
She fixes him with a look. “Do you really want to have the conversation with your brother-in-law about how he’s projecting his abandonment issues about his best friend onto a dog?”
“…Have fun, let me know how it goes.”
The noise echoing from the bay signals the return of A-shift from a call. The beeps of the engines backing into their positions, the squeak of boots against the polished concrete floor. A few voices shout instructions back and forth. About ten minutes after their arrival, there is a scuffle in the corridor outside the bunkroom, and Buck half-falls through the doorway, Hen on his heels. She steers him towards her bed, his face protesting but his body pliant.
“Alright, Buck, it’s talking time. Sit down.”
He sits obediently, scowling up at her. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Please don’t treat me like an idiot. You and Eddie have been unbearably bitchy with each other the last two shifts and Chim and I have had enough of the awkward tension. Plus, you gained and then lost a dog in the space of three days. This is about him moving, right?”
Buck picks at some lint on his trousers. “It sucks.”
Hen takes a seat beside him. She looks at him a moment, her eyes softening. “I know. But he has to.”
He exhales heavily, brows furrowed. “I know. And I want him and Chris to sort things out, more than anything.”
“But it still sucks,” Hen echoes in empathetic agreement.
“Yeah.”
They fall into silence, Buck staring at a point on the floor in front of his feet. Hen continues to watch him, studying his expression. “Is it just that?”
“He said he has no ties here. That everything that matters is in Texas.”
“He said that to you?”
“No. I overheard him talking to some potential tenants.”
Hen tuts. “Then you have to know that he didn’t really mean that.”
“But what if he did?”
She rolls her eyes. “Well now you’re just being stupid. You guys are practically family. You know he would stay in a heartbeat if it weren’t for things with Christopher.”
“Maybe not now I’ve screwed everything up like a—, a jealous ex!”
Hen raises her eyebrows, but decides not to comment. “Guess you better fix it then.”
“How?”
“Have you tried apologising?”
Buck pulls a face.
“He needs your support right now. You know how he feels about El Paso, everything he’s worked so fucking hard to leave behind. This is all hard enough as it is, and he’s going to need you on his side.”
“I know that!”
“But does he?”
Buck scrubs his hands through his hair, frustrated, and exhales heavily. “I’ll sort it.”
Hen smiles, patting him on the knee as she gets to her feet. “I know you will.”
He offers her a weak smile. “Thanks, Hen.”
She returns the smile, pointing at him as she backs towards the door. “Talk to Eddie.”
The bunkroom is quiet, curtains drawn against the city lights. Chimney is towelling off his hair, damp from the shower, and Eddie leans against the frame of his bunk, phone in his hand, just off a call with his Abuela.
“How’s she doing?” Chimney asks, tossing his towel over the rail of his bed.
“Yeah, she’s doing great. Pretty sure she’s going to out-live me at this rate,” Eddie smiles wryly.
Chimney chuckles.
“She’s always doing stuff, y’know? She’s got her walking group, and her yoga group, and her book club that, honestly, I don’t think involves very much reading. She says she’s going to ask around them if anyone has any furniture they’re getting rid of. The less I can spend on this house the better.”
“That’s good of her.”
Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, well, she’s just excited I’m coming back. Wants the whole family together again.”
“Are you looking forward to that?”
Eddie pauses, turning his phone over in his hand. “I’m looking forward to being back with Christopher. And it’ll be nice to see my sisters more, and Abuela.”
“I get you. Parents, huh?”
“Hm.”
Footsteps in the hallway announce Hen and Buck’s arrival before they cross the threshold, taking in hushed voices. Eddie’s posture stiffens as he meets Buck’s eyes, and he quickly pockets his phone, shouldering past them to leave the room. Hen and Chimney look at each other, brows raised, before Chimney turns to Buck.
“You guys still not fixed things?”
Buck sags slightly. “I know. I’m on it, don’t worry.”
Chimney exchanges another glance with Hen. “Oh really?”
“Buck here is going to sublet Eddie’s house,” she announces, clapping Buck on the shoulder.
Chimney looks intrigued. “Is he now?”
“Don’t tell Eddie!” Buck warns.
“He wouldn’t dream of it,” Hen reassures him.
Chimney holds his hands up, acquiescing.
“I figure if I sublet his place, there’s no more hold-up on him getting back to Chris,” explains Buck.
“And your loft?”
“Fuck my loft. Gave my landlord my notice.”
Chimney whistles through his teeth. “This is a pretty bold move, Buck.”
“I know. But if it gets him back to Chris…”
“Then it’s worth it,” Hen finishes for him. Buck nods.
There’s a sharp rap on the doorframe and they all turn to see Bobby. “Everyone still good for tonight? Reservation’s for 7pm. Buck, did you do the thing to make sure he’s free?”
“Yes, Cap,” Buck replies.
Chimney looks between the three of them. “What thing?”
Buck shrugs. “Booked a viewing for Eddie’s place tonight under a fake name. Figured I’d use that time to tell him I’ll take the place.”
“You never do things the easy way, do you?” grins Chimney.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Tanika Jackson, of the 118 B-shift, lies on her back on her top bunk, her face illuminated in the dark by the glow of her phone screen. Several other ghostly faces form similar apparitions throughout the room, the adrenaline of their previous call keeping the occupants’ minds racing, holding their bodies back from sleep.
“Holy fuck!” says Tanika, a little louder than intended.
“What?” the room asks in chorus.
“Hen from A-shift just posted on her Instagram story, from Eddie Diaz’s leaving dinner.”
“Aw, that’s a shame,” says Martin Williams, a little insincerely. “Is he moving to another station?”
“No, he’s going to another state. ‘Going to miss you Lone Star, give Ted Cruz the middle finger for me’,” she quotes.
“What about Buckley?” Phil Paulson asks.
“He’s in the photo she posted. Don’t think he’s leaving, though.”
“The plot thickens,” Phil says mysteriously, rolling over and pulling his sheet tighter over his shoulders.
“So, how long do we give it ‘til Ravi gets asked to go back to A-shift?” Sam Jackson asks, a smile in his voice.
From the darkened corner of the room, Ravi Panikkar groans.
“Fuck.”