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chancelloramidala · 4 years ago

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Staring at the Sun ➤ Evan Buckley

Chapter Seven: Confessions from a Robot Heart

warnings: vague mentions of childhood trauma, sex, drinking, smoking

masterlist.

After the long day she had, all Marceline wanted was to rest. Having Eddie back in her life and working with her was a pleasant surprise. Since Ollie’s death, the two of them have exchanged weekly emails just to keep up with one another. But then those weekly emails and occasional Skype calls turned monthly and eventually, yearly. It wasn't because Marceline or Eddie didn’t want to keep in touch or anything, but their lives just got more complicated to the point where they sort of forgot to call back or reply to that message/text/email.

And now, with Eddie working with the 118, it meant that he would be around more often, and Marceline wanted to make sure that she was there for him. She didn’t know a lot about his situation with the mother of Christopher… Shannon, was it? Only that she wasn’t in the picture right now and it was just the two Diaz boys.

She made a mental note while she showered to introduce Eddie and Christopher to Nicolette and Gemma at some point. The four of them would get along swimmingly.

Marceline then changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tank top after stepping out of the shower. Her hair, as long and thick as it was, would take ages to dry so she just left it in a bun as she wandered into the kitchen to make herself some tea.

She popped open a window as she waited for the kettle to boil. Then she quickly escaped to her room, opening her underwear drawer and taking a pack of cigarettes that was taped to the bottom. Marceline has been trying to quit smoking, and it’s been an on and off kind of thing. She’s able to put off the need to smoke daily and channel her cravings for nicotine into physical activity like kickboxing, martial arts, yoga, and yes, sex.

And Nicolette hated it when she smoked, mainly because of the horrible smell that would linger afterward and how bad it was for Marceline’s health. So she tried to smoke when she really really had to, outside the apartment or at least through the window if she didn’t want to step outside.

But Marceline gave herself a pass for today, it was stressful as fuck and she just needed some sort of release.

Nic was at work, yet another night shift and Gemma was at a sleepover with one of her school friends, so Marceline was left alone in the Pierce-Bishop home.

She lit one of the cigarettes with her blue lighter and moved towards the window, making sure that the cigarette was fully outside before leaning over. Marceline would then suck on one end, causing the smoke to fill her mouth before she would inhale some of it and then finally exhale, puffs of smoke escaping her lips. The anxiety that once engulfed her dwindled in these moments when she inhaled and exhaled, causing a sense of peace to wash over her.

She continued to do this a few times until her cig was short enough to throw away.

Drawings that Gemma made were scattered along the kitchen counter she was leaning against, some of them stuck on the blank areas on the fridge. Marceline smiled fondly at them, glad to see that the seven-year-old was improving on her skills, she thinks. She tilted her head to the side as she tried to decipher one of the drawings, made with pink and blue markers. The lines were thick and thin, shapes scattered the white pages and if Marceline was going, to be honest, she had absolutely no clue what this drawing was.

Whatever, if Gemma asked she’d just smile and nod and say how she liked the colors. (Like, usual.)

As she sipped her passionflower tea after crushing her bud into the ashtray she disguised as a plant holder and threw away the evidence. Then she wandered towards her bedroom, kicking away the clutter on the floor with her foot before plopping down onto her bed.

A small sigh escaped Marceline’s lips as she rubbed a hand over her face and leaned against the headboard. Her shift today was a mess the more she thought about it and she just wished that she could forget about it.

Buck, god, she hated how her mind always wandered to that man. He had such a tight grip around her heart and didn’t even know about it. And maybe his oblivious knowledge was a blessing in disguise because he wouldn’t know how much everything he said or acted to her would affect her.

“I’m just saying! You only act all… human-like with Nicolette or Gemma. When you’re here with us, you’re this robot.”

She could remember how easily those words escaped his lips and how quickly she felt those words stab into her heart. Marceline knew that she wasn’t the most… normal person on her team because she didn’t actively make the first move to touch someone or talk to them, and how her voice was usually void of emotion and how seriously she always looked… but to know that’s how people saw her, how Buck saw her just hurt.

Marceline has lived a life where there were always people who never approved of how she was, namely her parents but that’s a whole other story to get into for next time. In short, her mother wanted her to be the ideal proper young lady who kept her mouth shut when something rubbed her the wrong way. A proper lady who knew how to use all of the formal etiquettes of the dining room, who knew how to get a man and become a person Marceline had no intention of being.

So she learned to brush off those comments after leaving home and kept living her life the way she wanted to and not depend on other people’s opinions of her.

But there were times where some opinions mattered to her.

Her first impression of Evan Buckley wasn’t the most... positive of things. Marceline Pierce thought he was a cocky son of a bitch who was here as a firefighter for the thrill of the uniform. And yeah, those things were very true when it came to Buck’s personality but that was just surface-level shit. There was more to Buck than an overzealous, reckless young man who talked way too much about his sex life.

Deep down, Evan Buckley is severely insecure about himself and puts on the false facade of macho confidence to hide that. He has a heart of gold that he wears proudly on his sleeve. He would do anything he could to save as many people as he could on the job, even if it would put his own life in danger.

Marceline first realized she was in love with Buck when she actively sought out to be in his presence. She’d make sure that she was sitting nearby when he talked with Hen or Chimney about some sort of menial fact that he researched the hell out of. Even if it was kind of secondhand, she liked to be around Buck, feeling that his infectious smile and energy deep into her bones.

And usually, Marceline likes to be alone and in her own little space.

The second time was when she memorized how he took his coffee and made him a cup before he came into work. A splash of creamer and two teaspoons of sugar.

The third time was whenever she looked at him and felt her whole body fill head to toe with butterflies.

And since then, Marceline Pierce has been fucked with anything pertaining to Evan Buckley.

As Marceline let sleep envelop her in a warm hug, she could only think about how much of a robot she was to those around her and started to wonder if they shared Buck’s idea of her.

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One moment Marceline was asleep—not dreaming because it’s been ages since she’s actually dreamt about anything—and the next she was awake with loud banging coming from the front door. She groaned and threw both of her hands up in the air, cursing whatever beings were above. Then she turned her head to look at the clock next to her bed, 8:45 a.m.

“What the hell?” She grumbled, mentally calculating how she only got like five hours of sleep. As much as she wanted to curl back into her slumber, the knocking didn’t stop and it was an incessant noise she loathed.

So she sluggishly got to her feet, a chill of cool air coming over her, causing a shiver to run down her back. The elastic that once held her hair together in a bun disappeared in her sleep, and she didn’t bother trying to look for it. Whoever had the nerve to wake her up after an exhausting shift would just have to deal with her long brown hair sticking all over the place.

As Marceline left her room, she wrapped her arms around herself, the cool morning air coming at full force from the open window she forgot to close. She mumbled profanities under her breath as she walked over and shut it before heading towards the door, not even bothering to check through the peephole when she flung it open.

“What?” she half-snarled and looked up to see the last person she wanted to see.

Evan Fucking Buckley stood there, face full of shock and his knuckles raised as if he was going to knock again. “Uh—“ He lowered his arm back down into his side as a sheepish grin fell on his lips.

“...You’re this robot…”

Marceline’s stare hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line to hide the surprise off of her face. “No.” she shook her head and was about to slam the door shut when something stopped it. She looked down, finding that Buck had wedged his foot in between the door and the frame.

“Wait, Marceline, please don’t.” he pleaded, his blue eyes shining as his hand slipped through to help hold the door open.

“I’m too tired for this shit, Buckley.” she exasperated, closing her eyes for a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose to push down to the well of emotions that fluttered in her chest.

“That’s okay,” Buck quickly said and gently pushed the door back open to little resistance from the other woman. “You can just listen,”

Marceline’s heterochromatic eyes flew across his chiseled face, seeing the desperation that was widespread over each line and patch of skin and bit into her inner cheek. “You have five minutes,”

Then she opened the door, turning around, and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the pack of cigarettes she left there from last night. Marceline didn’t even bother opening a window when she lit her cig, her hand tense and fingers stiff as she pressed it against her lips.

She watched as Buck slowly entered the apartment and shut the door behind him. He nervously looked around, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as Marceline stared him down, leaning against the kitchen countertop as she blew her smoke downwards and nibbled on her cigarette, trying to suck out as much nicotine as possible to contain all of her stress.

“Four minutes and fifty-three seconds, Buckley.” she snapped at him, annoyed at how he was just standing there with his stupid hands in his stupid pockets while nibbling on his stupid lower lip.

“I’m sorry… okay?” he exhaled shakily before slowly looking at her. “What I said yesterday was me at full assholery.” she continued to stare at him, all emotion devoid from her face as she continued to smoke, her stiff fingers clenching around her cig. “I should never have said you, Marceline. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.”

Marceline couldn’t help but let out a cynical laugh before crushing half her cigarette into the ashtray. “Surprised to find out that robots can have feelings?”

Buck winced. “Not my finest moment,”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said sharply before turning around to open the window because Nic would kill her if the smoke smell lingered on the furniture.

“Look,” he sighed and when she turned back around he was walking over, his hands splayed against the island counter. “I know I was a dick, okay? I said I was sorry but I feel like you’re angrier about this for no reason.”

Marceline snorted and rolled her green and brown eyes. “No reason? You don’t see the problem as to why I’m pissed ’cos you called me a goddamn robot?!” her voice was progressively getting louder with each word and her hands were clenched into fists by her side.

“Robots aren’t bad! They’re cool,” Buck lamely tried to defend himself as he felt himself shrink under Marceline’s sharpened gaze.

“You called me a machine. Something that doesn’t consider the feelings of other people. Something that lacks empathy and sympathy. Something that can go without imagination, consciousness, free will, complex emotions, meaning, and a fucking purpose.” Marceline didn’t know at what point she started to cry, but she felt some wetness gather on her cheeks and that there was an ugly sob lodged into her throat.

Buck instantly started to feel a thousand percent worse. “Marceline—“ he tried to step forward, feeling the need to comfort the woman in front of him.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her shaking hands and stepped back, pushing herself against the counter despite the edge digging into her back. “I-I’m… I’m not a… thing,” she whispered with a shake of her head as the hate-filled voice of her mother shot into her head. “I-I have my own thoughts, I empathize and sympathize… I have meaning and purpose… I have feelings.” She hung her head to look at her feet as she sniffled. “I have so many fucking feelings, Buck. So many it’s suffocating to have them.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I should never have—“

“—Just because I don’t exhibit any of those human attributes around you in the way society deems as normal doesn’t mean I don’t have them.”

Buck clamped his mouth shut and frowned, looking away from her. He fucked up, bad.

Still, silence and tension-filled the cold morning air, with both Marceline and Buck turning away from one another to compose their thoughts and themselves.

“And with Eddie— he was in the same boot camp as my childhood friend, who’s practically my brother Ollie. He told me himself that he died in that convoy that got Eddie his Silver Star, and he’s been checking up on me since then. I’ve known Eddie for a long time so that’s why I acted so… human-like when he arrived.” she explained, remembering that Buck had asked yesterday.

Yup, Buck thought to himself, I’m a colossal idiot.

“I have this… tendency to act like I don’t care about anything, I know that. I’d like to blame my parents for drilling that into my head, but we don’t nearly have enough time to unpack all of that,” she said softly with a short chuckle, earning Buck’s attention as he slowly brought his blue eyes to her green and brown ones. “I’ve learned to only care about a select amount of people. And I…” she sucked in a deep breath as the nagged part of her brain screamed, “You’re one of those people, Buck.”

Buck’s brows knit together in confusion. What?

“I’ve… cared about you for a long time, you might not see it but I do. I care about what you talk about… what you’re interested in… how you see me.” Marceline admitted, her heart slamming against her rib cage to the point she thought he could hear it.

He felt like he was missing something crucial that Marceline wasn’t saying. Not that he had any right to ask for the entire truth, but the words she selected… didn’t seem right.

“You—“ he frowned as he tilted his head to the side to get a better look at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “You care about me?”

Marceline inhaled sharply. Now or never, Pierce. “I… I guess care isn’t the… right word.” she pushed herself off of the counter and stared directly into Buck’s eyes, her entire body simultaneously feeling on as if she was inside an inferno and dunked in ice water. “I’m in love with you, Evan.”

Buck felt all the air in his lungs disappear “W… What?”

“Look, I’m not confessing my love for you for any kind of payment.” Marceline tore her eyes away from Buck’s so she could take a breather. “I just… I needed to tell you. You deserve that much.”

“I—“ he didn’t know how to respond to that. The only people who’ve ever told him that they love him were his parents and Maddie, and even then he didn’t really believe them. No romantic relationship he had ever lasted long enough for either of them to say the L-word. “Is that why you took those bullets for me?”

“Yes,” she replied without any hesitation. “And I would do it again for anyone I love that much,”

Buck’s eyes were as big as saucers at this point, feeling very overwhelmed with this new information. “You love—? I’m sorry, I need—“

Marceline shook her head. “It’s fine, I get it. I jumped this all on you, and- and oh shit, you’re still with Abby.” She stammered out and rubbed her hands against her face to suppress a groan. “Fuck, I’m sorry Buck I didn’t—”

“I should go,” Buck said as his feet brought him to the front door, his mind swirling with loud thoughts.

Love? Someone loves me? Do I love Abby? Yes, I do love Abby, of course, I do. But… Does Abby love me back?

“Yeah,” she nodded and cast him a desperate glance. “Wait, Buck?” His hand halted from turning the doorknob and remained silent. Marceline took that as her cue to go on, “I want you to know that I don’t expect anything else from you after this. We can continue being colleagues and nothing more. You deserve to know that someone loves you like really loves you.” Unlike Abby whose been gone for months...

“I…” he paused and pursed his lips into a thin line as he slowly turned around. “Mars, I need time… to-to you know, process all of this.”

“I know, Buck, I know,” she sighed softly. “But, if you want to talk, you know where I am,”

All Buck could do was nod, unable to trust what he could say before he left. Marceline watched him leave with a heavy heart and sobbed into her hands.

Nicolette and Gemma came home later that day to Marceline holed up in her room with half a bottle of rum by her bedside.

@skyslowalking @beelarson @rcvenscycle @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange for u besties <3

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ AUTHOR’S NOTE: lol so that happened, huh

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