Archive of Our Own ^beta

˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚.🌱⋆୭ ˚

i.

"Okay, so hold my hand." Bobby says, and Buck makes a face. Bobby simply stares at him. "Do you want to learn or not?"

Buck rolls his eyes, but complies, taking Bobby's hand.

Instantly Bobby can feel all of the kid's emotions: discomfort, boredom, nervousness entwined with excitement, hope.

It's a lot, but it's nothing Bobby hasn't felt before.

He lets Buck's emotions roll off of him, breathing deeply. With each inhale, he takes them in, and with each exhale, he releases them.

"So right now, you're sharing everything." Bobby starts, and immediately he can feel a sharp burst of panic fire off into his hand. Instinctively, he sends back a smooth wave of calm, hoping he can steady Buck. "That's okay. It's only natural, and you're still young. You have lots of time to learn."

Bobby feels a bit of annoyance come his way, and he carefully avoids sending his own back, focusing on the constant waves of reassurance and steadiness. He's aiming to be Buck's anchor. He'll let Buck’s feelings ebb and flow, experimenting with all of his emotions. He’ll make sure to reel him in if the waves get to be too much.

"What I want you to do for me, Buck, is breathe." 

Bobby feels Buck's confusion before he hears it. "What?"

Bobby takes an exaggerated breath. In... two, three, four. Hold... two, three, four. Out... two, three, four, five. "Follow my breathing, kid."

Buck's still confused (mixed in with some curiosity now—), but he does as he's told, gripping Bobby's hand the whole way through.

After three rounds, Bobby smiles at him, sending a bit of pride his way. "Good, you're doing good. Now, the next time you breathe, I want you to really focus. Focus on what you're feeling. Don't worry about what I'm feeling. Just focus on understanding your own feelings."

Buck nods, eyebrows furrowed, and Bobby can't help but admire how seriously he's taking it. For all the false bravado and playboy energy, there's a soft core to the kid. There is something so vulnerable in his expression, as he sits in front of Bobby and puts all of his focus into doing what he's told. Bobby feels something inside of him melt, as he watches Buck's microexpressions match the ripples in emotions sent his way.

It takes time, but eventually the tirade of emotions calms down and hovers between nervousness and determination.

Bobby sends some more encouragement his way. "You're doing great, Buck."

Buck's eyes flicker upwards to meet Bobby's. "I am?"

"Yeah," Bobby nods, delicately avoiding the sadness that strikes his heart at how innocent Buck looks and how reminiscent this is. "You're doing really good."

This time the warmth that Bobby feels comes from Buck. "Thanks, Cap. I-I really appreciate you doing this."

"Anytime kid.”

They continue on for a few more breaths, before Bobby decides he's ready for the next step.

“Okay, now I want you to picture an emotion. Any emotion—though ideally one you'll be able to fully capture—and focus on it. Picture things that make you feel that emotion. Fully embrace it until all you can feel is that emotion. Then try to send it my way.” 

Bobby isn't expecting him to be perfect at it, hell he's not even expecting him to be able to focus on one emotion, but it's good practice. That's mostly what today is for. To practice the types of restraint and focus that he'll need further down the line. 

Work on the fundamentals and go further from there. Just like… just like he was taught.

“Bobby?”

Hesitance, nervousness, worry, concern.

Buck’s eyes are mirrors to the emotions Bobby's feeling and he furrows his eyebrows, confused.

“Are you… okay?” Buck asks and—

Oh.

He must be more in tune than he thought.

Walls come down fast, Bobby focuses on projecting cool, calm, collected, and smiles reassuringly at him. “Yeah. I'm all good. You got an emotion you want to try?”

He doesn't need his powers to read the doubt on Buck's face, but he doesn't push and Bobby is happy for that.

He lets Buck hover between different emotions, trying to decide on which one he wants to focus on.

No matter which emotion Buck tries to focus on, and there are a lot he waffles through, Bobby can feel sadness lingering. It seeps through the cracks, bleeds and stains, but Bobby makes sure not to comment on it, knowing that it's taking an incredible feat of vulnerability for Buck to share this much with him.

In the end, the bells ring before Buck has a chance to decide on an emotion, and Bobby makes sure to send an extra strong wave of warmth and pride his way.

ii.

It's windy up here.

Bobby made sure the team stayed down at the bottom, not wanting to crowd the woman but also because if this goes wrong, he wants the full blame.

It's a nice day. Blue skies, no clouds in sight. Bobby understands why she'd choose today.

“Everybody who’s ever tried something like this and survived says the same thing: the second they step off that ledge, they regretted it.” Bobby slowly approaches the woman, feeling his heart pang at the wild look in her eyes.

“I’ve been where you are.” For a moment, Bobby's mind flashes to his kids being placed into a body bag.

“I know how you feel.”  Bobby's hand grips the railing and he subtly starts to send soothing waves through it. Not enough to make her aware of anything amiss, but enough to have an effect. 

At least, Bobby hopes.

“Believe me.” 

Another wave of gentle comfort.

“There’s hope.” 

Bobby pretends to believe his own lie.

“Okay?” The woman still feels unconvinced and Bobby holds back the panic and uncertainty that threatens to leak through the railing.

“Let me buy you a cup of coffee.” Bobby offers and he feels a flicker of hesitance from her, so he pushes on.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” and Bobby is already planning what cafe they can go to, and stories he can share.

“I can help you.” Bobby says, and this he prays to not turn into a lie.

Bobby outstretches his right hand, the other firmly on the railing, trying his best to send as strong of steadying vibes as possible.

“Please.”

He begs the woman.

“Please.”

He begs God.

“No one can help me.” She shakes her head and Bobby’s stomach drops along with her body.

.ೃ࿔ ⌂*:･༘⋆༄.°⋆

“So you’re saying we can transmit our powers through metal? We don’t actually have to have physical contact?” Buck asks, eyes wide as he sits at the island in the firehouse kitchen.

“They’re diffused, so not as potent or effective as direct contact, but yeah.” Bobby explains, stirring the chilli on the stove. 

It's been a q-word shift today, and the whole team is scattered around. Buck's been in a mood today and so Bobby brought him up to teach him some more things about their powers.

He's gotten a good hang of the basics, Bobby's been pleasantly surprised at his progress actually, and so Bobby decided to teach him about some of the lesser known aspects of their powers.

“Hey, can you grab me the beans please?”

Bobby also figured now would be a good time for him to start learning the basics of cooking, as Bobby's not sure how the kid's gotten this far as a firefighter on only instant noodles and microwave dinners.

Buck jumps up from his seat and does as he's asked, hovering unsurely after he places them on the counter.

Bobby reaches for some spices. “You can open the can.”

Buck stares in silence for a moment, and Bobby looks back at him. “You know how to use a can opener, right?”

Buck blinks, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. I-I do. Sorry.”

Bobby furrows his eyebrows, concerned. He places the spoon on the edge of the pot and comes over to pat the kid on the shoulder. “You okay?”

He feels a strange sense of guilt, as well as dread and hurt. If he hadn't already been concerned, he definitely would be now. “Kid?”

Bobby sends a gentle wave of calm, just something to ease the anxiety, and it seems to help a little as Buck visibly relaxes, releasing a breath.

“Sorry Cap, I'm okay.” Buck tells him and Bobby is still unconvinced. 

Bobby hums, keeping his hand on Buck's shoulder and he waits to see if Buck opens up any further.

“It's stupid.”

“I'm sure it's not stupid.”

Buck still feels wary and Bobby sends some encouragement. Buck smiles sadly at it.

“Just my parents. I cut myself on the can once. It… did not go well.”

Bobby doesn't know much about Buck's parents, but the more he learns, the more unimpressed he becomes.

“Well, I can't speak for your parents, but I can speak for myself. If you were to cut yourself on the can, you aren't doing anything wrong. I cut myself in the kitchen all the time—okay, that sounds wrong.”

Buck laughs and Bobby can feel his nerves soothe under Bobby's hand, which makes him feel more settled.

“The point is, you wouldn't get in trouble for that. I'm sure it was a mistake. I'd just be worried about you and try to make sure you get help as quick as possible.”

Buck does a tiny nod and Bobby can still feel some anxiety from him, so he sends another wave of warmth.

“You're okay, kid. I promise.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

This time the flash of warmth he feels is from Buck, and the two of them share a smile.

Bobby squeezes his shoulder one last time, before letting go, and reaching for the can opener.

“I can—I can try,” Buck says, straightening and gripping onto the can.

“You sure? It's not a big deal either way, Buck.” Bobby doesn't want Buck to force himself to do anything he's uncomfortable with just to prove a point.

Buck nods, determined. “I'm sure.”

“Okay.” Bobby hands Buck the can opener and talks him through opening it. Buck takes it slow, but he succeeds, albeit needing a few tries to make a proper cut.

Bobby cheers as he does so. “Aye! There you go.”

Buck smiles sheepishly. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Bobby smiles softly back at him. “Anytime, kid.”

Later on, when it's finally set to simmer, Buck goes to try it. “Ugh, this is so good, Cap. I don't get how you make food an out of body experience. Food is just fuel, just something to make sure you don't keel over. But when you cook, God, it's so good, mph.” Buck goes for another spoonful and Bobby gently slaps his hand away.

“It's not done yet. And food is not just fuel, Jesus, kid.” Bobby shakes his head, but he can't quite hide the fond smile at his shenanigans. “I'm glad you like my cooking.”

Bobby shoos Buck out of the kitchen, lest he go for another spoon and eat it all before the rest of the team can.

And after he’s sure the kid is gone and not looking, he grabs the cocoa powder.

He’s happy to teach the kid, but he’s not about to reveal all his secrets just yet.

iii. 

“Hey Daddy, can you help me sleep?” Brooke asks, eyes reminding Bobby of the golden lab puppy they’d seen at the park the other day. 

“Munchkin, what did we talk about relying on powers to help you sleep?” Bobby asks, even though he knows he’s fully going to fold. They’ve been pretty good at trying by themselves, and Bobby would rather they get a full night’s sleep if possible.

Brooke frowns, lip quivering, and Bobby’s heart squeezes. “I trieddd, Daddy. My head’s too loud tonight.”

Bobby sighs, and Brooke’s expression is already lighting up before he even answers. “Okay. Go to your room. I’ll be there in five.”

Later, in a brief moment of lucidity between shooters and pints, Bobby starts to wonder if his powers were the real reason his kids died in the fire that night.

✩₊˚🧸.⋆☾⋆⁺₊💤✧

It happens on a call. 

It wasn't a big fire; in fact they had it under control in less than fifteen minutes, but it was in a highrise and the alarm had stirred a panic. 

Chaos enveloped the building quickly and Buck was just talking to Bobby about how they should try to direct people to a more centralized area, when he felt a tiny hand tug at his turncoats.

He turns to find a small child (maybe aged four?) in elephant pajamas and with tears streaming down her face. “Can you help me please?”

Buck immediately softens, kneeling down to match her eye level. “Of course. What's wrong, kiddo?”

She sniffles, rubbing her eyes and a part of Buck's heart fractures at the sight of it. “I don't know where my mom is.”

Buck bites his lip, taking a moment to scan their surroundings. 

There are so many people, it's impossible for him to pick out anyone.

He kneels back down and makes eye contact with the girl again. “Okay, don’t worry. We can figure this out together. What’s your name?”

“Arianna,” she replies, and her voice is so small.

Buck smiles anyway, pushing through his sadness for her, and trying his best to look as steady and friendly as possible. “That’s a really cool name, Arianna. I’m Buck. Do you think you could describe your mom to me?”

“She has brown hair, brown eyes, and is tall.” She pauses looking Buck up and down. “Not as tall as you though.”

Buck hums thoughtfully. “Do you know what she was wearing?”

She shakes her head.

“Okay. That's okay. Don't worry kiddo, we'll find her.” He extends a hand out to her, and she takes it gratefully.

His powers instinctively reach out to soothe her, and he feels her squeeze his hand.

“Here. Do you want me to pick you up, so you can get a better look?” Buck offers, and she nods.

“Alright. C’mere.” He pulls her in, and hoists her up, saddling her on his hip, and the two of them scan the area around. 

“Do you see anything?”

“N-no. She's-she’s not anywhere! Where is she? Where’s my mom?!” She starts shaking in his arms, hyperventilating, and panic spikes through him.

“Hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay,” Buck shushes her, doing his best to put a soothing voice on. “We'll find your mom. We have the best people on it. See that guy over there? That's my fire captain. He's the best at his job. He's looking for her right now. If anyone can find your mom, he can.”

Buck pats the little girl’s head, his powers reaching out to calm her out of instinct. “You're okay. You're okay, Arianna.”

Within the next two breaths, she's out, and Buck pauses where he'd been stroking her hair. He knows kids can fall asleep quickly, but this feels different.

He stares only for a moment, before deciding to check with Bobby.

“Hey Cap, any updates?” Buck makes sure to keep his voice low, not wanting to disturb her.

“Someone spotted her across the way. We're just trying to contact her now.” Bobby informs him and Buck releases a shaky sigh of relief.

“Good, good.”

There's a beat before Bobby looks at him. “Everything okay, Buck?”

Buck nods. Then shakes his head. Then nods again. “Yeah… I don't know. I just… I have a? Question? About our powers?”

Bobby nods. “Of course. What's up, Buck?”

“This might sound crazy so please take this with a grain of salt but… are we able to make someone sleep? With our powers?” 

Bobby's expression shifts, unreadable. Buck wants to think that he knows the old man well enough now to be able to know what expressions correlate with what emotions, but Buck knows better.

There's still a lot they don't know about each other. 

Buck feels Arianna shift in discomfort in his arms and he realises he's accidentally sharing his anxiety. He does his best to use what Bobby taught him. Focus on one emotion at a time.

Calm.

Calm.

Calm.

He takes a deep breath, trying really hard to not dip into the unsteadiness of not knowing what Bobby's expression means.

He tries his best to do it subtly, but Bobby must notice because he blinks rapidly, and then there's a smile on his face. It almost looks natural, but Buck can see the tightness around Bobby's eyes.

“We can. It normally takes a while for one to figure that out, but I'm assuming…” Bobby nods vaguely towards Arianna.

“I'm—I’m not sure. She's clearly exhausted and it's late and she's been crying lots, but… It happened pretty quickly after I tried using my powers to calm her down. I don't know… I didn't mean to, I just—”

Bobby's hand comes to Buck's shoulder and he feels a stream of warmth come through, steadying his nerves. “It's okay, kid. I'll teach you more about it after we get back, okay? In the meantime, it looks like she needed the rest anyway.”

Buck smiles gratefully at Bobby. “Thanks, Cap.”

✩₊˚🧸.⋆☾⋆⁺₊💤✧

By the time they get back to the station, all of them are exhausted. 

The station is unnaturally quiet as they all go through the runs of getting undressed, showering, and then changing back into their normal clothes.

Buck is still lost to his thoughts of the little girl and his powers, as he lingers in the locker room, staring blankly into his locker.

Bobby finds him there after an indeterminate length of time; Buck's honestly not sure how long it's been.

The hand on his shoulder is warm, bringing a sense of comfort he desperately craves, and he lets himself lean into the touch.

“Come kid, let's go to my office.”

Buck nods mindlessly, gathering his things and closing his locker, before following Bobby.

Despite the exhaustion that clings to him, he still feels wired from the lingering adrenaline and the nervousness caused by the unclarity surrounding his powers.

He sits on the couch in Bobby's office, leg jittering without any real conscious thought, as he waits for Bobby to get settled.

Bobby brings a chair over to sit next to the couch, so they're within touching distance, but at an angle where he can still make eye contact with Buck if needed. 

Not that Buck has any interest in eye contact.

No, he plans to keep his gaze solidly away.

Bobby extends a hand.

…

Buck stares at it for a moment.

He's still feeling so much; he doesn't want to burden Bobby with it all.

Bobby nudges him with his foot. 

Buck takes his hand.

Bobby squeezes it gently, and instantly Buck's body releases a deep breath. Slowly, he starts sinking deeper into the couch.

Bobby doesn't let go as he begins to speak.

“The idea behind this is that you can calm someone down enough that their body gives in to sleep.”

Buck tilts his head, trying to wrap his mind around it. He supposes it makes sense. Almost like entering a deep meditation. 

He wonders what else their powers can do.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I didn't want to overwhelm you. It's better to focus on one thing at a time. Normally, this is something that happens with intention, so I never even thought about being able to do it accidentally. That was my bad. I'm sorry, Buck.”

Buck can't bring himself to be upset at Bobby. Not when the man's taught him more than his parents ever bothered to. 

Still though, he can't help but feel like there's more to it than Bobby's telling him. 

Before he can say anything though, Bobby's squeezing his hand again. 

“You'll get there,” Bobby reassures Buck, taking his silence and discomfort as insecurity. “In time. I know that's not what you want to hear, but if you try to learn everything at once, you'll just overwhelm yourself.”

Buck frowns, an overwhelming sadness growing inside. There's just so much. 

Bobby puts a hand on his shoulder, encouraging Buck to finally make eye contact. “Hey, you're doing good so far. No one has a hand book for this. We're all just doing the best we can. Just like we do in life too. You got this.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Buck says, managing to give him a small smile.

This time, when Bobby squeezes his hand, pride gets sent his way alongside the warmth. 

iv.

It’s frowned upon to use their powers to control others’ emotions.  

Most of what they do is like using a telephone. Send and receive. 

Even with that, they need to be careful. But for the most part, it’s okay. Ethical. No complications.

Bobby himself feels horrified at the thought of using his powers that way. The fact that it’s within his realm of possibility is terrifying.

But despite that, he still has done it once or twice.

He tackles him, and without thinking he sends all of his grief and anger and fear Freddie’s way.

Freddie, who jolts at it all.

Bobby, upon realising what has just happened, holds tighter. 

“You’re not getting away that easy,” he mutters, and he’s not even sure if Freddie can hear with how much pain Bobby’s inflicting onto him.

Bobby easily overpowers any of the emotions he can feel from Freddie, and continues channeling his own, making sure to amplify his guilt. 

He feels plenty of guilt because of all of this, but he’s sure that Freddie will interpret it as his own, as his mother is still watching the two of them.

Bobby thinks about Buck on the ground, leg crushed from a thirty ton ladder truck. 

The next wave of fear he sends is enough to make Freddie's knees buckle, but Bobby refuses to let go, not until the police get him in their custody.

When Bobby finally lets go, he takes a moment to compose himself (he doesn’t want to accidentally send stray emotions to anyone else), before he rushes over to Buck. 

One look at him summons all of those emotions straight back to the surface, and he ends up going to Chim instead of Buck, not wanting the kid to catch wind of any of them.

“How’s he doing, Chim?” His hand hovers over Chimney’s shoulder, wary of hurting anyone else with his powers.

“Not great, Cap. We're gonna need a lot more people, and we're running out of time.”

There's another scream of agony from Buck, and Bobby feels the guilt threatening to sink him in deeper.

This is all his fault. 

He's going to lose a kid all over again, all because of him.

Him, him, him.

Bobby should've never thrown the book out.

God clearly isn't satisfied, and He's making His point loud and clear.

Bobby doesn't think he'll ever forgive himself, even if Buck survives this.

When the crowd comes forward to help, Bobby refuses to let himself feel relieved, knowing he won't be satisfied until Buck's out of the hospital and safe.

But for now, he lets himself stay focused, grateful for the crowd's support nonetheless, and he pushes through every cry and scream that breaks through.

He's not sure how he'll make it up to the kid, but he'll never stop trying.

As the bus pulls away, and his eyes glance over to Freddie’s, who’s watching him with a newfound terror, Bobby can’t bring himself to regret breaking his number one rule.

⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩

“Bobby?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“So I've been thinking… About our powers?”

With the loss of physical movement and the added free time on his hand, Buck's been focusing way more on his powers.

“I know we normally just… share emotions, but is it possible to actually control them?” He stutters out, stumbling over his words.

Bobby's blood runs cold. 

“Buck,” he tells him, voice low in warning.

“I'm not saying to do it! I just—I want to understand our powers, Bobby. That's not going to happen if I don't know everything about them. And it'll especially not be helpful if I accidentally use them.”

Something about that triggers Bobby's alarm bells. “Did something happen?”

Buck looks away, and the alarm bells clang louder.

“Buck?”

“It was just—it was just for a moment.”

Bobby takes a steadying breath. It won't do either of them good if he panics. 

He puts a hand on Buck's shoulder, both to show that he's not afraid of him and to send a bit of encouraging warmth his way. 

“It's okay. I won't be upset.”

“I-I didn't mean to. I just… Maddie was over and, and I was already feeling shitty because everything is shitty and I knew she’d just been trying to help but I just needed space and she tried to touch me and I kinda? Lost it? And Bobby, for a second I watched her eyes glaze over, and I've never seen anything like that— It was like she wasn't even there. I don't know what happened.” His breathing hitches and Bobby sends another reassuring wave of calm.

“Hey, it's okay. You're okay.” 

He can feel Buck's anxiety spark through him like electricity, jagged, erratic waves that he can tell he's trying to repress.

Bobby lets the anxiety roll off him and continues to focus on remaining calm and steady.

“I'm sorry, kid.” Bobby tells him shakily, his own guilt and anxiety fighting him as he tries to stay calm.

Buck looks up at him, confused. “For what?”

(Buck screams in agony, leg pinned beneath the truck.

“Collateral damage.”)

“You're right. You should know everything about our powers. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. It's just… It's dangerous.”

“I can handle it.” 

“I know you can,” Bobby tells him and squeezes his hand tighter. “That doesn't mean I don't worry.”

“So, we can? Control other people's emotions?” Buck asks, and Bobby can feel the fear slip through him.

Buck's smart. Bobby knows even if he lies, the kid will figure it out eventually. 

So, he opts for honesty.

“We can,” he says with a nod. “For the most part, our powers are a form of communication. We send our own emotions, and we can sense what other people are feeling. But with enough focus you can, in theory, make someone feel something entirely outside of their own emotions.”

Buck breathes shakily. “That's… a lot.”

Bobby does his best to send as much reassurance as possible. 

“I know. I'm sorry you had to find out on your own. There's no guidebook to this. I'm trying to make sure you avoid the mistakes that I made, but it seems in doing so, I'm making new ones.” He takes a slow breath, focusing on remaining calm and steady. “I have to let you make your own ones, that's the only way you'll learn. But I will be here for you every single step of the way.”

Buck squeezes Bobby's hand, and Bobby quirks his lip as he feels some reassurance from Buck sent his way. 

What would he do without this kid?

Buck's expression then shifts to something a little cheekier and he can feel anticipation and amusement run through him.

Uh, oh. 

“So, there's other stuff? To our powers?”

It takes everything in Bobby not to stiffen.

He can't lie, not with the kid watching him like a hawk, but—

“One step at a time, kid.”

Buck stares at him, clearly unimpressed.

“I promise.” Bobby squeezes his hand, making sure his words ring true.

It's terrifying.

There are some things that Bobby would rather the kid never learned.

But if it's learning from him or on his own—

Bobby knows which one he'd prefer.

Buck holds the stare for one more minute, before he pulls back, seemingly satisfied with whatever he found.

“Alright. I'm holding you to that, Bobby.”

Bobby chuckles lightly. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

v. 

“Dad?”

“Yeah, munchkin?”

“What happened today?”

Bobby's eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. “What do you mean, kiddo?”

“Well during art class, I stopped being able to feel you. Did something bad happen?”

Oh, God.

Had he really been that wasted?

It'd only been a couple of drinks… right?

He'd… he would know. 

“Dad?”

Surely, he'd know—

He reaches over to ruffle Robbie's hair. “You don't have to worry about anything, kiddo. It was just a bad call.”

Bobby had been dismissed early, and he'd found his way back to Joey's.

“I didn't want to risk anything too sad spreading to you guys.”

He hadn't even thought about the link. 

“Daddy, you don't have to worry. I'm strong enough! I can handle it.”

Bobby swallows back the self hatred and shame. “I know you can, Rob. I know.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚🏠︎

The kid's learned almost everything that Bobby has to teach.

He's come a long, long way from that first day where he bounded up the steps, nerves fluttering around, but wrapped in optimism and potential.

Bobby's proud of him.

He really is.

There's one thing he has yet to teach him though.

Not so much because he doesn't think he's ready—he’s certainly shown himself to be powerful enough—but more so because he doesn't want to put Buck through it.

It could be handy. There have been quite a few times where Bobby's wished they had linked up when Buck's gone into a flaming building, and Bobby hasn't been able to chase after him. 

But the thing with empathy links is they're a lot harder to control.

It's not like with physical contact where you can choose what and what not to share.

With a link, you share everything. 

And Bobby—

Bobby doesn't want Buck to get anywhere close to Bobby's tangled web of trauma and the darkness that is buried deep within him.

It's already a risk whenever their powers interact normally.

So no, Bobby has yet to tell Buck about this aspect of their powers. He’s kept it hidden and avoided it every time his powers reached out to link with Buck's.

But he's not sure how much longer he can hold this up.

He knows the kid deserves to know. 

He constantly replays the conversation they had all that time ago, and he doesn't want to break that promise.

He needs to be able to grow and he can't do that if Bobby's constantly holding him back.

And right now…

(“I cannot handle anyone else being hurt.”)

Right now, he thinks Buck could use it.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚🏠︎

“So, we can… link up?” Buck asks, brows furrowed as he takes in all the information Bobby's told him.

“Essentially, yes.”

Buck's quiet after that, and Bobby gives him space to process everything. So far, this is going better than their last conversation about powers, but he still worries.

Right when he's about to speak, Buck beats him to it. “So, that's what that is…” 

Bobby tilts his head, eyes squinting.

“I've… I've felt this before. Not as—not as strong, but. There have been times where it feels like my powers almost have a mind of their own… where they've tried to reach out, I guess.”

Bobby can't help but let out a breathless chuckle. Of course. Of course, the kid had already begun to figure it out on his own.

“So, you're saying. That if we link together, we will still be able to feel each other's emotions, even if we're not in the same room.”

Bobby nods. “I haven't figured out what the limit is yet, but yes.”

“And we won't be able to control what we send?”

“As far as I'm aware, no. It's like an old radio. There's no way to control what station you're getting, nor the volume of it. You can't pick and choose your emotions. Everything you feel is put out there for the other person to receive.”

Bobby watches Buck take all the information in, his Thinking Face clear. 

“I understand why you didn't tell me at first.”

The tone is hard to read in his voice, and Bobby immediately feels the guilt of keeping this from him resurface. “Kid—”

“It's fine, Bobby. I'm just glad you told me now.”

It doesn't sound fine, but Bobby doesn't push.

He lets the silence fall over them. He doesn't want to take over, wants to let Buck approach this however he wants to.

It takes time. Bobby can see Buck mulling several things over, eyebrows furrowed, and lips moving silently as he talks to himself.

Eventually, he makes eye contact with him.

“You're comfortable with trying it out?”

If Bobby's going to be honest, and he supposes he's going to have to if they're about to be linked, he's not. In the slightest.

But he'll do it for the kid.

“I want you to be able to practice all of your powers. Not just what I'm comfortable with. You gotta keep learning, kid.”

Buck frowns. “Bobby—”

“It's fine, Buck. I promise. As long as you're okay with…” He trails off, not sure how to phrase the mess that is himself, but Buck nods in understanding anyway.

“I am. I can handle it, I promise.” 

Bobby just manages to hide his flinch at the words.

Get it together, Nash. 

Buck smiles nervously, instinctively extending a hand before he pulls it back with a shake. “Ready?”

He takes a breath.

Focus on the here and now.

Focus on the kid who needs you, right now.

Focus. 

Focus.

Focus.

“Ready when you are, kid.”

And he lowers his walls for the first time in over a decade.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚🏠︎

Buck isn't going to lie.

He's nervous.

He's spent so long trying to control how much he shares, how much the other person can feel.

To have that stripped away? To essentially have all of what he's been practicing for the last few years mean nothing?

It's nerve-wracking.

But Bobby has a point.

He wants to learn. He wants to know every bit about their powers that there is to learn.

And he trusts Bobby.

He has from that first day when he told him to take his hand and walked him through slowing everything down.

His powers take the lead. 

He closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing just like Bobby taught him, and just lets himself exist.

He focuses less on forcing himself to feel one way or another, and more on just… noticing.

It's odd.

It's both much more prominent and more dispersed than when there's full contact.

It almost feels like a hug.

He can feel the familiarity of Bobby's warmth, and it spreads from his chest. Buck can also feel a bit of Bobby's nervousness, and it's hard to parse them out from his own.

He's had practice over the years though. Bobby's nerves tend to feel a little more like dread. They're heavier, sink deeper in his gut than Buck's. Buck's nerves are more flighty, more all over the place. They jump around and sit in his chest, in his limbs. 

Buck's head feels buzzy from the force of it all, and he leans further back in his chair.

“You alright, kid?” Bobby's concern rises above the dread, and Buck tries his best to focus on that, pushing all the other thousands of microemotions away.

“Yep.” Yeah, he doesn't sound one bit convincing. “It's just… a lot.”

There's a spike of warmth around his hand then, and Buck realises that Bobby's moved from the other side of the desk and is sitting next to him now. His hand is gently placed over Buck's, and Buck uses that as his anchor.

They sit together for a while, Buck practicing just… existing in the link.

Eventually, it all leaves in a flash, and Buck realises that Bobby's blocked the link again.

“I think that's enough for today.” 

Buck wants to argue, probably would’ve just a year ago, but he's drained, and he doesn't want to push Bobby more than he already has.

He nods, still trying to reorient himself. “Thank you, Bobby.”

Bobby's hand is still over his. He doesn't reply with words, but Buck can feel the warmth and that's enough. 

“C’mon, let's get you to bed. It's late, and we don't know what calls we're gonna have to deal with next.”

“Cap, I’m okay—”

Bobby's stare gives him no room to argue.

With a huff and an eye roll, he stands, following Bobby to the bunk room, and settling in the corner bunk that's more or less become his own.

Bobby pats his shoulder, sending one last wave of warmth and calm, and Buck eases into a deep and sound sleep.

+1.

They're cooking when it happens.

One moment they're laughing, messing around in the upper loft at the firehouse. The next Bobby is reaching over to ruffle Buck's hair, and they're no longer in the firehouse.

They're in Bobby's kitchen.

The kitchen.

In the apartment. 

Before the fire.

It's only for a split second, but Bobby sees Robbie in place of Buck, sees where he'd ruffled his hair just as he'd ruffled Buck's. He sees him looking up at him with the same light in his eyes, with the same pure adoration.

Bobby jerks away from him, hands falling from Buck's (Robbie's) head, and they're back in the loft.

Buck's staring at him with wide eyes, and Bobby realises that he'd seen it too. 

The world around them is quiet.

Bobby—

Bobby storms out of the loft.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚.📷⋆𖧧

He can't leave the building, not while he's on shift, but he can certainly lock himself in his office.

Is that fair? 

No. 

But he just—

He just needs a moment.

Buck's gonna have questions—Bobby has questions—and none are gonna get answered if Bobby's on the edge of a panic attack.

He squeezes the edge of his desk, closes his eyes, and forces himself to breathe. 

He can feel Buck prodding him through the link, and he keeps his walls firmly up.

Not yet.

Deep breaths.

In, for four…

Hold, two, three, four.

Out, for seven…

He repeats that for a few minutes, slowly feeling his body relax.

It's okay.

He's okay.

He's… okay.

There's a knock at the door. “Cap?”

It's not Buck's fault.

Whatever happened, they can figure it out together.

Bobby swallows back the next wave of nausea that threatens to pull him under.

He's better than this.

He is better than this.

He takes another steadying breath and then opens the door.

He's expecting Buck, but Chimney greets him instead.

“The kid has been acting very strange and refuses to let anyone touch him, and when Hen mentioned getting you, he flipped out even more. And now, you're being incredibly suspicious too, so.” He walks in as he talks, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

Bobby sighs.

“Make yourself at home,” Bobby mutters to himself, just loud enough for Chim to hear.

Chim doesn't sit, instead turning around a few paces and crossing his arms as he stares Bobby down.

“I've got it handled,” are the first words that leave Bobby's mouth after he closes the door.

Chimney raises an eyebrow, his gum clacking in his mouth as he chews. “Uh, huh. Because locking yourself in your office is clearly handling it.”

“Look, Chim—”

“What happened, Bobby?” Chimney’s softened, less antagonistic. “I haven't seen either of you like this since there was a sniper targeting LAFD’S finest.”

Bobby's shoulders sink, becoming less defensive.

As freaked out by everything as he is, Chimney's one of his oldest friends and confidantes. Bobby trusts him.

Bobby goes to sit on the couch. He personally does not want to be standing for this particular conversation.

Chimney drops into the seat across from him, body language open and inviting, even without Bobby using his powers.

“I'm honestly not sure what exactly happened,” Bobby starts, hands wringing together nervously. “We were just in the kitchen, making dinner, and then…”

Robbie staring at him with full unbridled trust.

A ruffle of his hair.

A kitchen aged, but still full of love.

“And then…?” Chimney prods, leaning forward in his seat.

“I saw something.”

Chimney's eyebrows furrow. “You saw something.”

“A—a memory, I think? I saw—I saw my son.”

There's a flash of surprise, as well as some other emotion crossing Chimney's face too quickly for Bobby to catch and determine.

“Buck saw it too.”

Realisation slowly creeps upon Chimney's face, before immediately being replaced with confusion. “Buck saw your memory? Your powers can do that?”

“I guess so. I had no idea beforehand, and I don't think Buck did either.”

There’s a pause, and the only sound in the room is the smacking of Chimney’s gum as he stews over what Bobby’s told him.

“Bobby. I know it might be hard, especially since neither of you were exactly expecting this, but hey. It might be a good thing. This can be an opportunity for you both! An exciting one! You can share memories! Do you know how cool that is?”

Cool isn’t exactly the word that Bobby would use, but he understands the sentiment. 

Chimney sobers a little, and leans forward. Though they’re not touching, Bobby can tell what Chimney’s feeling anyway. 

“Look, I know your wife and kids aren’t always an easy topic, but do you really think they’d want you to hide them away forever? I know we give the kid a hard time, but we both know at the end of the day that he’d always be respectful. I think it might be nice for you two to share some memories. Maybe it could give you guys perspective.”

Bobby gives Chimney a look at that last bit. 

Chimney, who immediately stares back at him, unphased. “Do I really need to spell it out for you, Cap?”

“Chim—”

“It’s clear to everyone except for you two idiots that you view each other as some sort of parent-kid dynamic. We’ve all let you guys try to sort that out yourselves, but maybe this is a sign.”

Out of all the people in their circle, Chimney was the last person he ever expected to point it out.

Bobby keeps quiet, trying to mull over his words.

The worst part is… Chimney has a point.

Chimney stands up then, and he walks over to Bobby and pats him on the shoulder. Immediately, a familiar burst of understanding and encouragement, one he remembers from [miracle baby scene] through him. “Go talk to your kid.”

It’s so similar to what he'd normally say, with the exception of one word.

Your kid, rather than the kid.

Bobby takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚.📷⋆𖧧

“He doesn’t hate you, Buck.”

Buck immediately shoots a glare at Hen. “You don’t know that.”

Buck’s being irrational. He knows this. But it helps him feel better to slightly overdramatize things, and he desperately needs to cope right now.

Hen, forever calm, forever steady, just simply repeats herself. “I do know that. And so do you.”

Buck was halfway out of the station when both Chimney and Hen stopped him, forcing him to sit down. 

He’s currently on the edge of one of their trucks, refusing to go back up to the kitchen. He’s found a stray stress ball and has been squeezing that to death, all the while his leg jitters beneath him.

Hen has tried several times to try to put a hand on him, to anchor him, but Buck’s fervently refused. She’d only backed off when he’d agreed to sit on the bench, though she clearly had not been happy about it.

“You didn’t see his face. He, he—” Buck cuts himself off again, looking away. 

He’s still not entirely sure what happened. 

One moment they were just messing around in the kitchen, the next he’d been transported somewhere. 

Then he’d blinked. And it was gone. And Bobby… Bobby was staring at him like he’d killed his dog.

“Buck,” Hen’s voice is gentle, but firm. 

Buck looks up at her.

“Take a breath, okay? Just take a moment. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

He takes one, and it’s shaky, his chest stuttering as his leg continues to jostle the rest of his body.

“That’s it, Buck. Just breathe with me, okay? Slow and steady.” Hen starts taking exaggerated breaths, and Buck does his best to follow her lead.

After a few moments, Hen extends a hand and Buck stares, before giving in and taking it.

Immediately, he feels concern seeping through her hand, followed by steady solace and reassurance, spreading from his palm into his arms.

He closes his eyes and lets it wash over him, using her as an anchor. 

When he opens his eyes, he's greeted with Hen smiling at him softly. 

“Are you ready to talk about it now?”

Buck takes another breath. “Not really…” Hen gives him a look, and he gives in. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

She squeezes his hand comfortingly, and he can feel her encouragement blooming. 

“I don't know what happened. We were just… cooking. Then it looked like we got transported? Somewhere? Next thing I knew Bobby was staring at me like I’d stabbed him and then he ran.”

Hen’s eyebrows draw together, pulling taut. He can feel her confusion and focus tingling up his arm. “Transported?”

“Yeah. I opened my eyes and we weren't in the firehouse anymore. It looked like an apartment maybe?”

“Did it occur to you that maybe Bobby ran because of what he saw and not because of you?”

Buck tries not to wince at Hen's annoyance slipping through, both in her tone and through his hand. “He was staring directly at me, Hen.”

Hen looks deadpan at him. “Buck.”

He knows he sounds crazy, there was just—

The sheer wave of grief and guilt that had hit Buck the moment they were in that room.

Buck knows it's most likely Bobby's own emotions he had been feeling, but it's hard for him to not feel at least somewhat responsible, even if he can't figure out why.

“I don't know what I did, Hen, but somehow it was my fault that we ended up there.”

He feels the sympathy and sadness starting to spread and he lets go of her hand, shooting up through his feet.

“Whatever. It's—it’s fine. I'm going to go take inventory.”

He did inventory already this morning.

“Buck—”

She reaches for him again, and he just manages to avoid her grasp.

“Hen, please,” Buck begs her, doing everything in his power to ensure he stays calm. “I just… I just need space.” 

He can tell Hen still isn't going to let him drop it, so he adds on, “If things are still weird by tomorrow, we can play twenty questions again then, okay?”

She's not happy, but she nods, letting him go. 

Buck takes one last deep breath, then grabs a clipboard, and proceeds to start inventory all over again.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚.📷⋆𖧧

He feels Bobby before he hears or sees him.

There's a gentle nudge, as Bobby tries to link with him, and Buck pauses from where he'd been rummaging through the supply closet.

He doesn't know what to do.

He doesn't want to be difficult.

But he's also not sure what he's going to feel from or send through the link and he doesn't want to make things with Bobby any worse than they already are.

There's a knock at the closet door.

He feels Bobby prod the link again, and in his distraction he lets him in.

Instantly, he's hit with a rush of concern, guilt, warmth, fear, grief, affection.

“Buck? Can we talk? I promise I'm not upset.”

Buck's quiet, but he's sure Bobby can feel his sentiment anyway.

Warmth, reassurance, steadiness.

The link can't lie.

Buck sighs. 

He puts away the bin he'd grabbed and been counting, moves the clipboard back to his hand, and then opens the door.

Bobby's standing, his expression far more open than Buck had been anticipating. 

All of the previous distress is gone. There is still a bit of nervousness, but he looks far more calm.

“Hey,” he says, and Buck can feel his own nerves bubble as the space between them feels so much more than normal.

“Hi.” Buck's not really sure what else to say.

“Do you want to go up to the roof? We can drink cocoa…” The nerves in him get shifted, jumbling into mirth and optimism. 

“Okay. That—that sounds nice.”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚.📷⋆𖧧

It's a nice day out.

There's a good mix of clouds and sunshine. The wisps of cirrus look like streaks of paint across a blue canvas. 

The fresh air is soothing and clears the cotton in his lungs, breathing becoming easier.

Bobby hands him a mug, before moving his chair, so they're next to each other, but angled towards the other.

“I first wanted to apologise for leaving like that. I never meant to make you think I was upset at you.”

“Bobby—” Buck doesn't want him to apologise, doesn't think he deserves it, but a quick shot of indignation from Bobby makes him shut his mouth. 

“I needed space, yes, but I could've explained myself better, and for that I'm sorry.”

Buck swallows back the hurt that's still simmering in the background. He's all too aware that he and Bobby are still linked. He's not going to let Bobby feel this. He can't.

“You don't have to apologise.” Buck says, focusing on forgiveness instead. 

“I want to kid.”

Buck lets slip his sheepishness, and turns back to focus on drinking his cocoa.

He doesn't stay quiet for long though, the antsiness in him bubbling past the point of control. “Do you—do you know what happened?”

Buck's still confused, honestly.

He can feel Bobby's emotions stirring in the link.

Grief, guilt, awe.

“I think you slipped into one of my memories.”

Buck couldn't hold back the surprise if he tried. “What?”

“That was… that was my old apartment. Back in St. Paul.”

Buck takes a moment to take it in, eyes wide as he tries to process it. “I didn't even know our powers could do that.”

“Neither did I.” 

That explains the sheer grief.

“God, Bobby…” Buck doesn't even know what to say. 

“It's not your fault, kid.”

He frowns, still not believing it. “I don't even know how it happened…”

Bobby reaches over this time, squeezing his hand and bringing Buck's focus to the warmth there, rather than all of the other emotions flittering around them. “We'll figure it out. Together. You did nothing wrong, okay?”

Buck struggles to hear Bobby's words. 

Every time he thinks he finally has got it— that he finally knows everything and is good—there’s something else.

There's always something else.

“Talk to me, Buck.” Buck feels Bobby trying to pull him out of his head. “What's going on?”

“I—” Buck cuts himself off. He doesn't want to put this onto Bobby. Not with their link, not with everything so fresh. “It's fine.”

The disbelief Bobby feels is palpable, even without the strong eyebrow raise sent his way. “Buck.”

“It just… it's a lot. I'll be okay, I promise.” Buck squeezes Bobby's hand, focusing on being steady.

Bobby sends some warmth back, his worry and anxiety seeping through the link, but they sit in silence for a bit.

The anxiety peaks right before Bobby speaks.

“You know I view you as my kid, right?”

Buck's mind flashes white.

He hadn't been— 

He wasn't expecting—

Bobby's kid?

“Buck?”

Buck does everything in his power to hold his emotion back. 

They're in a link, in theory he shouldn't be able to hold anything back, but he can't— He can't risk this.

He takes a deep breath.

Calm.

You are calm.

You are happy.

Bobby, just told you he views you as his kid. This is what you wanted. You can panic later. This is a good thing.

“Buck? You okay, kiddo?”

Buck takes one more deep breath. The exhale is shaky, but he manages to push his nerves and grief out along with it. The next inhale he focuses only on the joy that comes from the statement. 

He smiles, making eye contact with Bobby. “Yeah. I'm good. I just… wasn't expecting it.”

He can feel Bobby's worry in the link, pushing, prodding, and he just focuses on circling back to his joy and relief. 

Because he is happy. 

He's overjoyed that Bobby's said aloud the words he's been hoping for years. He just…

He needs time to process it.

“I'm—I’m glad you feel the same way. I'm—I’m really grateful for you, Cap.”

He sends a burst of warmth his way, and the smile on his face becomes more genuine as he feels Bobby's own warmth back.

“I'm grateful for you too, kid. More than you could ever know.” 

Buck lets himself lean into Bobby who wraps his arm around him and holds him close. 

He lets slip a bit of the raw emotion he’s feeling and whispers, “Thank you.”

Bobby rubs his arm, and though he doesn’t say the words aloud, Buck can feel them nonetheless.

“I love you, too.” Buck replies in his head, closing his eyes and just letting himself exist in the love around him.