Work Text:
Enjoy!
The familiar buzz of his alarm went off at 2:30 a.m.
Not for work. Not for an emergency. For freedom.
Buck grinned, rolling out of bed with a smoothness he usually reserved for a call-out. He moved quietly, grabbing the black duffel bag already prepped at the foot of his bed: armored jacket, gloves, tinted visor, and helmet with a matte blue phoenix decal.
He walked out to the underground garage of his apartment, the steady hum of the building like white noise in his ears. There it was—his Yamaha R1, sleek and fast, an entirely different beast from the fire engine he drove at work. Black with subtle cobalt detailing, tuned to purr and scream depending on the road.
Tonight wasn’t a solo ride.
Group chat lit up on his burner phone:
"Route 9, 3 a.m., full run. Gas up first."
"You in, Ghost?"
Ghost. That’s what they called him. No last name, no questions. Just a shadow who showed up and blew past most of them on the curves.
He was halfway through checking his tire pressure when he heard soft steps behind him.
“You’re early,” Maddie said, already zipping up a borrowed leather jacket and pulling her hair into a braid. “I told Chim I was going to yoga at sunrise.”
Buck chuckled. “You know lying makes you nervous.”
“Not as nervous as you driving without a backpack,” she replied, tossing him a helmet. “Besides, it's our week.”
Maddie climbed on behind him with the ease of routine, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. They took off through the city, neon lights flickering off the reflective paint of the bike. The streets were quiet, and Buck let the engine roar down a tunnel just for the thrill of hearing it echo.
By the time they reached the canyon turnout, thirty other bikes were already lined up, their riders talking, tuning, or stretching. It was a whole world of throttle addicts, speed chasers, and adrenaline junkies—nothing like the firehouse, nothing like the rules and protocols of Buck’s day job.
“Ghost,” someone called out, clapping him on the back. “You brought your girl again?”
Maddie burst out laughing under her helmet. “I’m his sister, moron.”
The guy blinked. “Damn. Ghost has a family?”
Buck just shook his head, but Maddie noticed the way he smiled behind his visor.
She leaned in and whispered, “You really like these people, huh?”
He didn’t answer right away, just looked out at the road ahead.
“They don’t ask about what I do when I’m not here,” he finally said. “They don’t expect anything from me. I’m not Buck the firefighter, or the guy who messes up, or the team’s emotional support golden retriever. I’m just fast.”
Maddie squeezed his arm. “Well, fast or not—you’re still you. Just... maybe don’t crash and give me a heart attack tonight, okay?”
“Never,” he said, flipping his visor down. “You ready, backpack?”
“Let’s go, Ghost.”
And with that, they rode.