Work Text:
Title: Night Rider
The low rumble of the engine was a familiar comfort under Buck’s hands. The sky was still ink-black, stars barely visible behind the LA haze, and the streets were mostly empty—just how he liked them at 4:27 a.m.
Buck rolled to a stop at a red light, the matte black of his custom Harley glinting faintly in the streetlight. He wore his helmet, visor down, leather jacket snug against the chill, and a backpack strapped to his back. It wasn’t carrying gear tonight—it was carrying Maddie.
“I still don’t get why you do this before work,” she muttered through the comms in her helmet, holding tight around his waist.
Buck grinned under his visor. “Because traffic sucks at 8 a.m., and I need something free before I spend 24 hours cooped up at the station."
They made the turn onto Mulholland, the road winding like a ribbon through the hills. Around the next bend, the others came into view—dozens of bikes parked, engines still cooling, leather jackets and coffee cups, the murmur of early risers and midnight riders.
Maddie swung off as Buck parked, pulling off her helmet and shaking out her hair. "You're really like… famous here,” she said, watching as a few riders nodded at him with respect. “What are you, their leader?”
Buck shrugged, unzipping his jacket. “Not a leader. Just someone who shows up.”
She rolled her eyes. “No one at the 118 knows, do they?”
He smirked. “Nope.”
“Not even Eddie?”
Buck’s expression faltered for a half-second. “Especially not Eddie.”
Maddie sighed, bumping his shoulder with hers. “One day, you’re going to have to let them see this part of you.”
“One day,” Buck echoed. “Just… not yet.”