#minor death mention tw

[ylfah]

𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬  𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝  𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭  𝐚𝐧𝐝  𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧  𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐟𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐜  𝐨𝐟  @nancewheelr '𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭  𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡  𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦,  a  grip  so  fierce  that  the  mere  force  of  it  causes  her  fingers  to  quiver  and  hands  to  shake  —  or  were  they  doing  that  already?  ylfa  isn’t  quite  sure.  she  can  feel  her  thudding  heartbeat  not  only  in  her  chest  (  𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎  𝚜𝚑𝚎  𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝  𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢  𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍  𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝  𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢  𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚐𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚍𝚜  𝚊𝚛𝚎  𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢  𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚖  𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜  𝚘𝚏  𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍  𝚝𝚘  𝚋𝚎  )  but  also  in  her  ears,  something  she  has  the  faint  awareness  isn’t  quite  right,  something  toeing  the  line  of  peculiar.  

ylfa  opens  her  mouth  to  speak,  𝗯𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺  𝗹𝗶𝗽  𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴  𝗮𝗻𝗱  𝘁𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵  𝗰𝗵𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴  𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁  𝗼𝗳  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀  𝘀𝗵𝗲  𝗵𝗮𝘀  𝘁𝗼  𝘀𝗮𝘆  𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁  𝘀𝗵𝗲  𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁  𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄  𝗵𝗼𝘄  𝘁𝗼  𝘀𝗮𝘆.  grandma’s  dead.  it’s  my  fault.  blood.  i  didn’t  listen.  so  much  blood. i’m  the  reason  she’s  dead.  but  before  any  sort  of  syllable  can  land  upon  her  tongue  of  cotton,  there’s  a  sob,  that  rampages  past  would-be-syllables,  rampages  atop  tastebuds  saturated  with  copper  and  over  the  ridges  of  chartering  teeth  until  it’s  able  to  fall  from  the  grace  of  her  lips  and  penetrate  the  thick  air.  

before  that  fallen  syllable  can  so  much  as  regain  footing,  it’s  knocked  down  by  another  sob,  following  in  quick  succession  after  the  first.  the  sobs  are  loud  and  violent,  𝙖  𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙  𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩  𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙮  𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩  𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚  𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢  𝙖  𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙  —  𝙛𝙤𝙧  𝙖  𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙  𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣’𝙩  𝙗𝙚  𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚  𝙩𝙤  𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬  𝙩𝙤  𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚  𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝  𝙖  𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙,  𝙣𝙤𝙧  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙡𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙨  𝙖𝙣𝙙  𝙫𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙡  𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨  𝙩𝙤  𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙚  𝙞𝙩.  ylfa’s  vision  blurs  beneath  the  weight  of  water  and  salt,  and  her  fingers  tighten  around  nancy’s  shirt.  

❝  she  .  .  .  she  —  ❞  words  try  and  squeeze  past  her  sobs,  attempt  to  charge  into  nancy’s  awareness  in  efforts  to  be  heard.  ❝  nancy  .  .  i  .  .  it’s  my  fault,  it’s  my  fault,  nancy  i  killed  her!  ❞

[isjasz]

// In stars and time spoilers (of the game mechanic that is in the trailer and in the game description LOL)

[Day 288]

More isat au but guess what quote i can use >:33333333333 LETSGOOOOOOOOOOO (Also yeah introducing what the game is about for those who dont know HEHEHHEHEHEHE)

[the-broken-pen]

Hey hey

Could you perhaps write a snippet where the building hero is in, gets bombed? Its bombed as an assassination attempt to get them, however the people in that building die and hero, succumbed to their injuries couldn't save everyone of them. At last they watched the last ambulance left without them, even as they called for help

Villians villa is just few kilometres away

Thankfu hero's legs aren't broken

They begin walking

The problem? Vil is way to composed and prim and perfect to let all of hero's blood get on their expensive carpets and fabrics. They could even be mad at the hero for reddening their porch if they hero stood their asking for bandages. What now? And the fight the two had yesterday that ended with "never see me again" and "don't ever talk to me"s.....vil was stopping hero from attending the event the building....

Will vil help them? They can just ask for bandages and leave.

What hero doesn't know: vil would literally destroy the world for hero, and there's no way in hell are they leaving hero on their doorstep.

(Anon you were cooking with this ask, thank you!)

The hero realized the building was going to explode a split second before it did, which wasn’t enough time to do anything other than brace.

They tensed, and there was a horrible screeching of metal and brick, followed by a deafening silence that covered them more completely than the rubble did.

The hero coughed once, weakly, pain rocketing through their chest, and shoved a piece of concrete off themself.

From somewhere else in the building, a soft, terrified wail began, broken around desperate sobs.

The hero coughed again, hand rising to their ribs. They didn’t have the energy to be surprised when their fingers came back coated in blood and dust. They grimaced at it, struggling to their feet–

And oh, god. That hurt.

The hero had a surgery once, the kind that resulted in bandages and a care regime and a set of stitches, and when they had woken up in the recovery unit, it had felt sort of like this. A moment of loopy half-awareness, and then a pain that had knocked the breath out of them, hands clenching into the sheets as a nurse tried to figure out if they needed more medication. 

This was worse. Their vision swam, and they blinked it back with a hiss.

Because someone, somewhere in the wreckage, was crying. And if one person was crying, it meant there was someone who survived. Which meant it was likely there were other survivors–ones too hurt to make any noise, ones knocked unconscious, ones still too shocked to do anything other than lay there–and it was the hero’s job to find them.

It took them far too long to locate the source of the crying. Longer to dig them out, vision going white as the person slammed into the hero’s chest in some facsimile of a terrified hug.

“You’re okay,” they managed, voice like gravel. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out, and you’re going to be just fine. Were you with anyone?”

And then again, and again, and again.

The hero panted, hands on their knees as their body fought them in an attempt to just collapse onto the concrete below. They just–they just needed a minute. Just one, maybe, and then they could–

This time, the hero wasn’t even aware of it before it happened.

The remains of the building shook, then disintegrated into itself in a plume of dust and rock. The hero shielded their eyes with one hand, blinking against the onslaught.

What little air they had managed to get stuttered out of their lungs in something close to a sob. They had done this enough times to know there wasn’t anyone in that building left alive. 

They sagged down against the nearest thing–more rubble, maybe? They didn’t know–and this time when they rested a hand on their side, there was a considerably larger amount of blood.

“That’s…not great,” they said, and their fingers blurred in front of them slightly. There was an ambulance right there. Just a couple feet away. They had already helped most of the survivors, so maybe it would be okay for the hero to–

A paramedic rounded the back of the ambulance, and the hero lifted a hand, reaching–

“Please, wait, I think–I think,” it hurt coming out of their mouth, “help. Please I need–” they trailed off as the paramedic took the step up into the ambulance.

And closed the door behind them.

The hero wasn’t even that surprised when the ambulance began to drive away.

“Help,” they finished weakly, then sucked a breath in through their nose.

They were supposed to be good at this kind of thing. Surviving, no, thriving in catastrophe. A pillar of light. The one with the plan. 

The kind of being that didn’t beg for help on the ground.

The hero wasn’t entirely sure how they managed to get themselves back to standing. It was as easy as that–one moment they were on the ground, gravel embedded in their knees, and the next they were up and shaking but they were up.

“If I stay here, I’ll die,” they murmured. They had hoped maybe the threat would keep their legs from buckling again. It didn’t.

They weren’t near any place that could be trusted. There wasn’t a safe clinic for heroes on this side of the city, and even if there was, the hero wouldn’t trust them. Couldn’t afford to.

But as for near…the hero swallowed the nausea as it rose in their throat. There was one place they could go. One person they could go to.

Four miles. They could do four. There was no other option.

Where the hero had had some blurry recollection, or at least, a good guess of how they got to standing, they had absolutely no clue how they made it onto the villain’s porch. They managed a blink, retching slightly as they stared at the villain’s wavering door, then had to freeze just to bite down the pain that had come from the gagging.

They tried to knock and ended up collapsing against the villain’s door, knees giving out entirely as their fingers scrabbled for purchase and left behind smeared bloody marks on the wood.

They weren’t entirely sure how that happened either, or how long it took the villain to answer the door. Just that it hurt—so, so much, it hurt so–and that they managed to shove themself back into some semblance of standing right before the villain pulled the door open.

The villain’s face did a sort of spasming thing as soon as they saw the hero, jaw dropping slightly in what the hero could only really read as shock.

There was a very considerable amount of blood on the door. They were cold.

“I–” the hero tried, but they weren’t really sure where they had been going with that sentence, and after yesterday and the screaming and the fight the villain probably didn’t want to see them at all, didn’t want to ever see their face again, so–their mind blanked. “I got blood on your door.”

They tried to gesture towards it, but that hurt, so their hand simply twitched slightly from where it hung by their side.

They glanced down at their feet, because they didn’t want to see what the villain’s face was doing, especially if what it was doing was anything resembling anger.

“Oh.” There was blood at the hero’s feet. “And on your porch, too, I guess.”

They looked up at the villain, but they were still staring at them, brow furrowed, hand clenching on the doorframe.

“I’m sorry.”

There was a very faint quiver of tears when they said it, and the hero knew better than to hope the villain didn’t catch it. 

Were they saying sorry for the porch or the door or yesterday–

“Holy shit,” the villain finally breathed, and it sounded like it had been punched out of them. The hero froze, panic rising in their chest.

“I’m sorry,” the hero blurted out, stammering. “I’m–I’m so sorry, I’ll go, just–could I maybe have some bandages? Just–just one, maybe, please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they said uselessly, head swimming. They couldn’t even remember what they were doing here. The villain was perfect in every sense of the word, stoic and proper and collected in a way the hero would never be; a marble statue brought to life. The idea of them letting the hero–the personification of a train wreck in motion–in to bleed all over the villain’s soft carpet and nice shoes and cause irreparable damage to their very expensive house was almost laughable. 

If they had had the breath to laugh.

More of the hero’s blood dripped onto the slats of the porch, and they stepped back. “I’m sorry–”

The villain reached for them, and the hero flinched, taking it for the dismissal it was–

The hero blinked, and it stuck for a moment too long as the world tilted, and when they pried their eyes open again the villain was staring at them with something the hero was too out of it with pain and possibly delirium to identify. Their gaze drifted back to the blood smeared on the door, and the villain’s grip tightened on the hero’s bicep–when had they grabbed the hero’s bicep?–until the hero’s gaze returned to theirs.

The villain said something, but there was a roaring that had started up in the hero’s ears. They seemed to take the uncomprehending blink the hero gave them in return for an answer anyways, and guided them down until they were both sitting on the cool wood. A tug, and the hero was resting against their own propped up knees, villain’s hand still firm on their arm.

“How much blood did you lose?”

It was like screaming underwater, the hero reasoned. Or through a mirror. But they heard it nonetheless, and that was their villain, and even in hatred and war they would always answer them.

“Was ‘supposed to be counting?” If they had any more energy–or maybe slightly more blood–in their body, the slur to their own words would have been concerning.

The villain’s lips pursed into a thin line, and the hero felt them begin to run an assessing hand over their injuries, cataloguing them, brow furrowing further with every second.

“M’sorry,” they managed, tongue thick. The villain didn’t pause.

“For what?”

“Bleeding on your door,” they managed. The villain stopped them from raising their head from their knees. “And your–porch.”

“I don’t give a shit about either of those things,” the villain said, simply, easily. Like it was nothing. Like they didn’t feel the weight of it as they threw it into the air.

The villain sat back on their heels, clearly having learned what they wanted from the hero’s injuries.

When the hero didn’t immediately look at them, the villain grabbed their chin, gently turning it until the hero faced them.

“How far did you walk,” they said slowly, and the hero had never been more grateful for anything in their life.

“Four miles,” the hero said, and they couldn’t hear their own voice above the roaring, but the villain obviously could from the way their eyes darkened.

The hero wanted no part in making the villain angry again–I never want to see you again, do you hear me? If you ever try to talk to me again I will kill the both of us, I promise you that–, but when they attempted to push themselves up to leave, the only thing they managed was a piteous whine and a stab of pain so intense they forgot to breathe.

“Idiot,” the villain hissed. But oddly, the hero didn’t sense any anger coming from the villain.

They blinked–too long, again–and found themselves in the villain’s arms as they walked through the house. Their head lolled back onto the villain’s shoulder, and the villain glanced down as if–to make sure the hero was okay. That they were conscious, and breathing.

Oh.

Oh.

The villain wasn’t angry.

They were afraid. For the hero.

Which didn’t make any sense, because–

I never want to see you again–

“You’re mad at me,” the hero reasoned, and it came out half strangled and petulant. The villain looked down at them, and the hero caught the tiniest flinch in their jaw.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s not what you said yesterday,” the hero whispered, and the villain flinched.

“I wanted to stop this from happening.” The villain settled them onto a bathroom counter, lights flickering on as the hero leaned back against the mirror. Blood began to dry, sticky, between their fingers.

The hero’s mouth went dry, and it caught in their throat when they tried to swallow it.

“You could have just left me there.” Their voice only shook a little bit, but the villain’s head still snapped up from where they had been digging through a drawer.

“What?”

“On the porch,” the hero clarified, clearing their throat. The lump didn’t go away, and they had begun shaking at some point, and they couldn’t stop. “If you didn’t want to deal with me you could have just left me there–”

The villain’s face had darkened into something the hero almost didn’t recognize. 

“I would burn the world for you, and you think I would leave you to die on my porch?”

“You said you didn’t want this to happen.”

“No, that’s not–” the villain rubbed a hand over their brow, and the hero winced at the blood it left behind. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. I was trying to keep you from going to that stupid event and getting hurt. I knew it was going to blow.”

“I would have gone anyway.”

The villain stilled. “I thought maybe if you never wanted to see me again, and you knew I was there…”

“I would,” the hero repeated. “Have gone anyway.”

The hero watched as the villain’s face rippled through a dozen emotions, settling onto something unidentifiable.

“Why?”

“Because you were there,” the hero said easily, shrugging one shoulder. Because when it came to the villain, it really was that easy. They could scream, and shout, and hold a knife to the hero’s throat, and the hero would still follow them into hell. That was their villain.

The villain looked like the hero had stabbed them, face draining of color. Their fingers went white around the edge of the counter, as if it was the only thing keeping them upright.

“What,” the villain’s voice was hoarse.

“I went because I was hoping you would be there,” the hero said honestly

“Stop,” the villain raised a hand between them, a shield, voice breaking. They sucked in a breath, then another, like they were trying to keep themself from breaking down onto the tile.

“You would have gone to the event no matter what, just to see me,” the villain said slowly, and the hero nodded

“Yes.”

“Even though I screamed at you?”

“Yes.”

“And told you I hated you.”

“Villain, please–��

“Now you know,” the villain interrupted, voice incredibly soft. “Why I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero forgot to breathe for a moment, tongue going numb in their mouth. The villain couldn’t mean–

They blinked for a moment too long, and then the villain was standing between the hero’s knees, hand on their chest.

“You love me,” the hero said a moment later.

“Ruinously,” the villain agreed.

“So you–”

“I was trying to save your life,” the villain’s hands were gentle as they began to patch up the hero’s side. “And now I’m saving your life in a new and unanticipated way. But there is nothing you could ever do to stop me from saving your life.”

The hero’s heart clenched. 

“Really?”

The villain caught their chin, eyes boring into the hero’s. They brushed a piece of hair off the side of the hero’s face.

“Really.”

The hero sighed, and the villain caught them as they slumped.

“I thought you hated me,” the hero said, and they hated how raw they sounded. The villain made a choked little noise.

“I’m so sorry.”

The hero sniffed.

“Don’t do it again.”

The villain simply hummed, and smoothed the ends of a bandage down against the hero’s abdomen. The hero could feel their hands shaking.

You scared me.

A second later, their hands settled on either side of the hero’s head, and the villain rested their face into the hero’s hair. They pressed a kiss to the hero’s temple, tension easing from their shoulders.

I’m sorry.

The hero clutched the front of the villain’s shirt between their hands, drawing them closer. The villain went willingly, loose limbed with affection and the rapid draining of terror from their system.

“I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero had never believed anyone more.

[schrijverr]

Do You Want to Go with the Strange Man, Buddy?

Divergence from chapter 13, where tía Pepa is forced to drop Christopher off at the 118 while Eddie is at the academy, because Abuela isn’t feeling well and she has to work. This leaves Buck with a surprise introduction to make to everyone.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (pre-slash)

Warnings: mentioned minor character death, mistaken child abduction

~~~

Buck had been working out on his own. It’s a slow shift – almost q-word, but he’s not saying it – so he actually took a decent shower after. He doesn’t know what it is about the shitty showers, but they’re homely to him.

Anyway, when he gets out and back into uniform, he checks his phone to see he’s missed a call from Pepa. She’s supposed to be dropping Chris off at Abuela’s house right about now, so he frowns and quickly calls her back.

“Oh, Buck, good. You’re on shift now, right?” she picks up.

“Yeah, I am. Is everything okay? Is Chris?” Buck asks worriedly.

“Christopher is fine,” Pepa tells him and his muscles unclench slightly. “We’re outside your work now, can you be there quick?”

“I can be there right now,” Buck says, starting to move towards the doors without a moment of hesitation. “And you’re sure everything’s alright?”

“It is, it is. Mama just can’t watch him today, she came down with a stomach bug,” Pepa explains.

At that point, Buck is at her car, quickly looking inside and waving over to Chris. However, he doesn’t immediately go over to him, because Pepa has gotten out of the car and closed to door behind her, a clear sign she wants to talk to him real quick, before Chris can hear.

Lowly, Pepa says: “Mama can’t watch him and I can’t take him to work right now. I can when I’m off, but not before. I tried calling Eddie, but he wouldn’t pick up. Is he safe here? Can you get off?”

Buck knows checking your phone at the academy has a high chance of getting yourself yelled at, so he gets why Eddie wouldn’t see the call. Mentally he makes a note to send Eddie a text about it all, before he assures her: “Of course I can take Chris. My Captain’s pretty chill, he’ll give me off or make me man behind or something. I’ll figure it out.”

“Gracias, gracias,” Pepa says, kissing his cheeks. “I have to go rush back before my lunch hour is over now.”

“Of course,” Buck blushes, still not entirely used to the warmth of this part of the Diaz family. He takes Chris’s bag from her, slinging it over his shoulder, before letting her get in the car, while he goes to get Chris.

Pepa has said her goodbye to him by the time he gets to his door, so he’s just focused on Chris when he opens the door. “Hey, buddy! Excited to hang out with me today?”

“Yeah,” Chris cheers.

“Good,” Buck smiles, unbuckling Chris from his seat and lifting him out of the car. He puts him on his hip while reaching in for the crutches, then the two of them wave goodbye to tía Pepa.

With her car out of the parking lot, Buck suddenly finds himself alone with Chris. At work. And it hits him that this is going to be a very hard thing to explain. Hell, he doesn’t even know how to begin, because how the fuck is he going to play this off?

It seems like frat boy Buck is dying today and he hopes they’re not going to be too weird about it in front of Chris. He’s never wanted his own issues to touch Chris. However, it’s also going to be heartbreaking to introduce him to everyone as his son, knowing that won’t last forever.

Subconsciously, he hugs Chris a little closer, before forcing cheer into his voice saying: “Well, I gotta introduce you to everyone then talk to my Captain for a bit, but then I can show you all the trucks and equipment. How does that sound?”

“I get to see the trucks?” Chris asks excitedly. With Buck sharing stories over dinner or breakfast on an almost daily basis, he’s gotten very enthralled with firefighters, so it’s dream come true.

Buck’s heart melts at the sight and decides that no matter how today goes, he’s going to make fucking sure Chris can see those trucks up close and personal. “Yeah, Superman, of course. Let’s go. Wanna be put down?”

Chris shakes his head. He has quickly realized that they first need to get through boring adult stuff before he can see the trucks and he wants to speed the whole process up. Which means he is perfectly fine where he is, getting to look around while papi does the walking for now. He’ll be independent when they get to the cool stuff.

So, Buck apprehensively makes his way up the stairs with Chris in his arms. He’s unsure what kind of reaction he should be bracing for when the finds the others hanging around the couch with their mugs, pausing when they see him.

For a moment, all of them just look at each other.

Then Hen cautiously speaks up: “Uh, Buckaroo, where- where did you get the kid? Did someone… Did he get lost?” she corrects herself, knowing Chris can hear her and not wanting to implant the idea that he was abandoned before they know more.

And Buck knows he should explain, but just going ‘no, this is my son’ feels weird when it’s not forever and this set up is just too funny. So he doesn’t explain and instead shrugs: “No, I just saw him while I was at work and took him.”

Everyone’s eyes get wide and they all freeze, as if they can’t believe that they’re hearing that and aren’t sure if he’s joking or not. They know Buck can’t lie, but since it’s technically true, it doesn’t read like a lie, which is hilarious to Buck right now.

He keeps a straight face as he turns to Chris and says: “Isn’t that right, Chris? I just took you off the streets.”

Chris – a little shit after his own heart and a better liar than his papi – just grins and nods: “Uh-huh, you did.”

Chimney must decide that he’s fucking with them, because he rolls his eyes: “Alright, sure. Was there anyone with him?”

“Yeah,” Buck says. “She wasn’t paying attention. I mean, I took this little guy here right out of her car and we waved at her when she left. Didn’t even blink. Probably didn’t care I did, did she?”

“That’s right,” Chris chimes in again.

At this point everyone is starting to get actually concerned. Buck is a little offended that they are, but he also gets it. Who knows if he snapped or something? A child abduction case should always be taken seriously. So, he should probably also stop now. Maybe a bad joke to make to begin with.

“Buck,” Bobby says, getting up slowly and holding out his hands as if calming a distressed patient. “I am asking you, if you can give the child to me. Okay?”

And look, he should just explain now, because this has gotten out of hand – story of his life, he supposes – but he can’t let this moment pass. It’s an educative moment, a cautionary tale if you will. So he turns to Chris on his hip and jostles him slightly, before quirking a brow and asking: “Do you want to go with the strange man, buddy?”

In the background, everyone is just getting more and more concerned with Hen and Chimney also rising to their feet and putting their mugs down. Buck half thinks one of them might sneak away to grab a tranquilizer or something, a true sign he should have never done this, but it’s too late for that now.

Luckily for everyone, Chris puts them all out of their misery by giggling: “No, papi.”

“Good answer!” Buck cheers, pressing a kiss on Chris’s cheek as he hugs him closer. “That is right, do not go with a strange man.” He turns to everyone else, who is still staring at him, perplexed. Buck has never seen someone blue screen like that. Ignoring it, he just goes: “And that’s how you teach stranger danger, people.”

For a few seconds it’s silent. The three others in the room blinking at him as they try to wrap their heads around the sharp turn that has just happened.

Not wanting to wait around for the explosion, he barrels forward, talking to Chris again as he goes: “So, let’s make them not strange people. This is my Captain, Bobby. Do you remember me talking about Bobby?”

“I do, he’s the Captain with the nice food,” Chris tells him.

Buck blushes a little, saying: “He is indeed the Captain with the nice food, but that was our little secret, remember?”

“But, papi, you’re not supposed to lie,” Chris counters.

“It’s a non-serious lie,” Buck defends himself, feeling a little called out anyway. “But you’re right. No lying. Want to say hi and thank you for the nice food?”

Chris nods and Buck makes his way over to Bobby, so Chris can shake his head. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Bobby. I’m Christopher. Thank you for the nice food.”

Bobby now remembers Buck sneaking leftovers out the fridge. He always let him, figuring the kitchen in his frat house sucked and he didn’t feel like cooking there. Having the sudden knowledge that his food has instead been shared with this kid. This son Buck has apparently had this whole time, twists something inside him.

A little shellshocked, he shakes Christopher’s hand, saying: “Uh, yeah, call me Bobby. It’s nice to meet you too, kid. I’m glad you like my food.”

Chris smiles at him, but Buck moves on to the others before Bobby manages to form his face into a semblance of a smile back. It hits him all over again. Buck is a father.

“This is Hen, the badass paramedic,” Buck says, gesturing to her first and she waves at Chris and Chris waves back.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Hen smiles, shaking his hand when he holds it out.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Chris says politely and chipperly.

When Chris looks away again, she gives Buck a wide eyed look and quirks a brow. Buck sends a half grimace, half smile back. Then he moves onto Chimney saying: “And this is Chimney, the one with the funny name.”

“Hey! I’m also a badass paramedic,” Chimney exclaims, playing it up and snapping out of his funk, while Chris giggles. “Nice to meet you, kiddo.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Chris says.

During the introduction, it’s clear that both are obviously trying to hide how weirded out they are. Buck is starting to realize it might have been a little dumb of him to lean into the frat boy thing, but in his defense, it will probably be true soon. And that doesn’t hurt at all, no sir.

Shaking the gloomy thoughts off, he asks Chris: “I have to go talk to Bobby for a bit, do you wanna hang out with Hen and Chimney while I do? They know everything about the ambulances, I’m sure they’d love to answer your questions.”

“And then we can go look at the trucks?” Chris asks hopefully.

Buck just melts and he gives Chris a soft smile: “Yeah, buddy, then we can go look at the trucks.”

“Okay.”

He puts Chris down, encouraging: “Strong legs,” hovering a moment until he’s solid, before handing him his crutches. Then he points to the kitchen and says: “I’m going to be right there the whole time, so you can just call out if you need me, yeah?”

“I know, papi,” Chris assures him, a little bit of attitude that he totally gets from Eddie shining through.

“Alright, alright,” Buck grins as he shakes his head. Behind Chris’s back, he sends Hen a questioning look and a thumbs up, silently asking her if it’s okay. She gives him a reassuring smile and he relaxes a little with the relief.

He stays for just long enough to see Chris move towards them without any shyness, before making his way over to the kitchen. Bobby is right behind him and Buck feels very uncomfortable about the whole thing. Exposed in a way he usually tries to avoid.

So, before Bobby can say anything, he starts talking himself: “I know, I’m jumping this on you and I’m so so sorry. He was supposed to stay with Abuela, but she isn’t feeling well and tía Pepa can’t take him to her job and she couldn’t reach Eddie. But I can try to see if I can reach him, or stay behind and use my PTO or something. I totally understand if you can’t accommodate this right now. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Buck, breathe,” Bobby says, brow creased worriedly. He places a hand on his shoulder and makes sure Buck is looking at him, then says: “We’re here to work with you. I’ll need to clear it with the Chief, but I’m sure we can figure something out until you figure out childcare.”

“Oh, that’s- that’s really nice,” Buck stammers.

Bobby still isn’t sure where the kid came from, but Chris is clearly Buck’s and he is panicking. As much as it hurts to think about it sometimes, he still recalls how stressful and scary being a parent can be. Of course he’s going to support him, even if he still hasn’t processed everything.

He squeezes Buck’s shoulder, searching for more words of support, finally settling on: “Of course.” He wants to ask more about the how and when of the kid, but before he can, Buck’s phone starts ringing.

“Fuck, that’s Eddie, I have to take this real quick,” Buck says, turning away, but not really moving away as he picks up: “Eddie? Hi, yeah, Pepa said she called you.”

Buck has never mentioned an Eddie before today and he doesn’t know how to feel about him, remembering what he almost fired Buck for. Maybe it’s more recent than that? Even if that seems even more ridiculous. God, Bobby hopes it is though.

He can’t hear what Eddie says. However, he does hear what Buck responds: “Everything’s fine. Abuela’s not feeling well, so she dropped Chris off here, until her workday is done.”

Then Buck listens briefly for a moment, before nodding, despite Eddie not being able to see. “Uh, yeah, that’s okay. Everyone here is super nice and helpful. Bobby says we can figure something out. So, I’ll keep him for now, no worries. We’ll look at the trucks and he’ll be thrilled. You just focus on training, I doubt your instructor will be pleased with you taking calls like this or missing out.”

Something in Bobby’s heart clenches at how soothing and worried Buck sounds. He gets the feeling he can now be reasonably certain he knows who Eddie is; his partner. Another thing they all missed. Buck has had a family this whole time. And they don’t sound strained, which is a relief. Though maybe also a bad thing?

That feeling is further confirmed when he sees a small shy smile on Buck’s face as he responds: “No problem. We’re a team, remember? Bye.”

He hangs up, before facing Bobby again face still slightly red. “Uh, sorry about that. Hope you don’t mind me promising that to Eddie.”

“I don’t. It’s okay, Buck, truly. We’re a team here too,” Bobby says, which makes Buck relax. He seems really anxious about this whole thing and Bobby worries about what makes him feel so on edge. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Buck asks, taken by surprise. Then he smiles awkwardly and unconvincingly says: “I’m fine.”

Bobby levels him with a look and Buck looks away. Deciding that stern probably won’t work on Buck, he goes for compassion when he says: “Look, clearly this was something you didn’t want to share. I get that it’s scary and I just want you to know that we support you, no matter what. You’re safe here.”

Buck’s eyes widen momentarily, before his smile becomes more real. “Thank you. It’s not exactly like that, but thank you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed-” Now it’s Bobby’s turn to be awkward. He could have sworn Buck was just coordinating with his… spouse? Partner? Boyfriend? Husband? His Eddie. Maybe it’s a nickname? Maybe it’s something else that would explain the sleeping around. He hopes it will explain the sleeping around.

“Oh, no, Eddie is my husband,” Buck quickly assures him, which clears up exactly nothing. In fact, it makes it worse.

“Now, I’m confused,” Bobby tells him honestly, praying Buck will give him more information that will turn him into someone Bobby recognizes, someone more than a cheater, who lies and hides.

“Uh, it’s- it’s a bit of a long story. Me and Eddie are married as friends, for Chris’s sake. His mom walked out and I kind of stepped up. So, I adopted him when Eddie had to go back into the military. He is training to be a firefighter right now. When he’s stable, he, uh- he’ll probably divorce me. Kinda hard to bring that up,” Buck grimaces apologetically.

Bobby blinks a few times, that is indeed a long story and that’s with probably most of the details missing. However, it does clear up the sleeping around situation, so he’ll take it. Still, unsure what to say, he asks: “So, how long have you two been married then?”

“Coming up two years, but living together and raising Chris for three,” Buck answers, looking over to Chris with a melancholic note in his voice.

Okay, so this isn’t just a recent thing for a last tour, but a years long thing. Bobby knows what it is like to lose a kid, but to know they’re still out there? God. He doesn’t know this Eddie, but that is an awful thing to do to a person. He frowns: “And you’re just going to disappear when he is stable?”

“Uhm, yeah, probably. I mean, we haven’t really discussed it,” Buck rubs the back of his head, then admits: “I’ve been too scared to ask.”

“Buck…” Bobby breathes, unsure how to even begin to tackle all this.

“I know,” Buck sighs before he can figure it out. “I know I should talk to him. I know that. But if I know, I can’t cling to the possibility of it not happening, you know?”

He looks devastated. It’s only in his eyes, his face keeps that helpless half smile, but his eyes carry a deep grief that Bobby knows. He has already given up on keeping a professional distance, so he just pulls Buck into a tight hug and holds him close when Buck melts into it.

When he pulls back, he says: “The not knowing is killing you too. Talk to Eddie, tell him this. If he is a friend, he’ll understand and want to help. We’ll be here for you whatever happens.”

“Thank you, pops,” Buck says with a crooked grin, sounding a little choked up. He hasn’t called Bobby that since his second month there, but the nickname brings back a wave of nostalgia, and – treacherously – a voice in his head flirts with the possibility of being a grandfather, before Bobby represses it.

“Of course,” is what he ends up saying. His smile feels a little more forced, but he sounds genuine when he says: “Go show your son the trucks, I’ll call the Chief.”

Buck’s eyes sparkle when he says ‘your son’ and he nods eagerly: “I will. Again, thank you so much,” then he bounces off to the couches.

At the couches, Hen and Chimney have stared at Chris for all but two seconds. Neither of them have a clue what to do with the surprise news that Buck apparently has a kid. A kid that is now staring at the two of them with big eyes.

“Uh, so how old are you, Chris?” Hen finally asks. A standard question to ease into it.

“I’m seven,” Chris tells her proudly.

Hen quickly does the math. That makes Buck nineteen when Chris was born. She shares a look with Chimney, who did the same math as her. With Buck’s record of sleeping around, that doesn’t entirely come as a surprise. However, the well adjusted kid speaks to a lot more maturity that his recklessness would indicate.

“That’s already really grown up,” she smiles at Chris, who beams with pride.

Both of them are used to working with kids, so Chimney takes over: “Buck mentioned you were interested in the ambulances?”

Now Chris lights up even more. He sure is a happy kid, Hen thinks fondly. Apparently Buck is a good dad, that’s nice. And it becomes increasingly clear that he raised Chris, because when he starts launching questions at them that are truly impressively detailed, his face is the exact same one that Buck makes when he’s learning things and curious. It’s truly adorable to see.

They answer his questions the best they can, getting very charmed by this kid in front of them. They can almost forget that Buck pulled a kid out of thin air. Still, every time he does something Buck-esque they’re reminded all over again.

Hen wonders if there is some drama with the mother, since she now recalls Buck knowing a lot about custody. If Chris had been an accident, then they might not be together anymore and Buck has had to go to court about it. Maybe it had been a whole thing?

Chimney meanwhile realizes why Buck canceled so much on them at the start. Still does, they’ve just gotten used to it. At the time he’d been so jealous thinking he must have more fun parties or hot dates, but he probably was just going home to his son. Obviously childcare is an issue.

He wishes the kid had just opened his damn mouth about it. He remembers how rough it had been for Hen and Karen when they first adopted Denny. How it’s still difficult sometimes. They could have helped. Chim finally got the babysitting gig down. He has had practice.

It’s a bit of a mindfuck to have to reframe Buck from a frat boy to a teen parent. However, the pieces do fit in a way. The flashes of maturity, the way he can flip the switch to being responsible, the way he’s gold when there are kids on a scene.

So, yeah, Buck is a dad. That’s a little new.

But it’s only new to them, clearly it’s not new to Buck. Because when he’s done with his talk to Bobby he swoops back in, hauling Chris up over his shoulder as he says: “LAFD here to rescue you!” which makes Chris shriek with delight.

Buck puts him back down and ruffles his hair, matching big smile on his face. “Are you ready to look at the trucks now, Superman?”

“I am, I am,” Chris says, bouncing up and down.

“Alright, then, let’s get this show on the road,” Buck exclaims, gesturing for Chris to lead.

The four of them make their way downstairs, all of them smiling at Chris’s excitement at seeing the trucks. Despite being older than him, they all remember that same feeling from their first day.

It’s obvious that Buck takes much pride in his work and the fact that Chris thinks his career is cool. As he shows everything with much gravitas and importance, not to mention a matching thrilled sparkle in his eyes.

Chris gets to try on his helmet and sit in the rig, while Buck takes a billion pictures. After he’s snapped one in particular, he grins at Chris: “Daddy’s going to be so jealous of you, getting to sit in a real fire engine before him.”

“He will,” Chris grins slightly mischievously.

Behind the duo, both Chimney and Hen freeze. Daddy. There is a second parent involved. With what they know of Buck that is almost more unexpected than the kid thing.

Hen wonders if maybe the other dad is trans and it’s still what she first thought, while Chimney immediately grimaces. He doesn’t want to judge Buck too harshly, I mean, he didn’t for Hen, but it’s different with Buck. So, he can’t help but judge a little.

“Daddy?” Hen asks, deciding it’ll be better to just find out. If it puts Buck on the spot, they can pretend to buy whatever excuse he comes up with for now and interrogate him later.

“Uh-huh,” it’s Chris, who answers, “he’s becoming a firefighter like papi is!”

Buck on the other hand looks less enthusiastic and more like a deer in headlight, blinking two times, before quickly explaining: “Eddie is Chris’s dad – other dad. Bio dad? – uhm, he’s my husband, but we got married as friends. It’s a bit of a long story.”

“They made them kiss,” Chris informs the other two firefighters there a bit too gleefully. “It was really silly.”

“Chris was with us for the wedding,” Buck clarifies with a blush. “It’s a thing they expect you to do.”

Both of them just nod. Hen is sure that there is a much more detailed and much more stupid story there to explain all this, but honestly, she doesn’t feel like figuring it out. Chris is still right there and Buck looks like he’s going to kneel over if they ask more. She’ll wrangle it out of him when he’s had more time to get his head on right.

At that point the alarm goes off and Buck freezes a little. However, Bobby appears at the top of the stairs, about to go down the pole. Before he does, he calls out: “Buck, get yourself into gear. Kid’s coming with us.”

“Aye, aye, Cap,” Buck says, relieved to get some clarity. Then to Chris he goes: “You hear that, bud, you’re going to be a firefighter today.” Chris cheers. “Stay right there, okay, I’ll be with you soon,” Buck promises, before hurrying off to get into his gear.

When they’re driving to the accident, Chris has a thousand more questions and eagerly listens to all their answers and explanations. As well as to the little jabs and teases they throw at Buck. He takes them like a champ, rolling his eyes as he takes more pictures.

At the scene, Bobby sends Buck out there, keeping a close eye on Chris for him and walking the boy through everything that’s happening. He makes sure to pay extra close attention to Buck and explain what he is doing to Christopher.

Bobby tries not to, but he can’t help but wonder if Robert Jr. would have been equally as invested if he’d ever been able to go with him to work. He always misses his family, his kids, the most on days like these. On calls with kids, or when classes come in.

He puts it out of his mind though. Buck is closer to being his kid on most days and he has made some peace with it, even if he won’t acknowledge it yet. However, it makes it easier with Chris than with another kid. It doesn’t feel like he’s replacing his own, it’s a relationship he hasn’t had with anyone before yet. New is good.

After the call, Chris is in high spirits, excitedly rerunning every moment to everyone and asking more questions. He is very much Buck’s child. However, this also means he’s easily distracted by the video games they have and the pinball machine.

For a snack, Bobby asks if he liked one leftover in particular, making sure to whip that up, much to the boy’s delight.

By seeing Buck around Chris so much, it normalizes itself in their brains that Buck is a dad. The shock and newness wears off and they can appreciate this side of their probie they hadn’t seen before.

Buck is still basically an over excited puppy, but he matches Chris’s energy pretty well, never going further than he wants. He also has gotten the balance between letting Chris be independent and preventing him from doing something dangerous down to a science.

It’s very interesting to see traits they know he has being dialed up or down to suit this situation. How natural it looks on him, despite their previous assessment of him being a frat boy.

However, it’s also very obvious to all of them, that he is still a kid himself, raising another kid. None of them – bar Bobby – have a general idea of how long he’s been doing this, but they can all gather that Chris is older than most kids people Buck’s age have.

Of course he’s a firefighter, but he tosses Chris around like it’s nothing, keeping up easily with his boundless energy, and saying stuff like: “High five, Superman!” when Chris tells Chimney that his movie quote was weird.

All in all, Chris is having a blast and so is the 118.

They’re all helping Chris slide down the pole, grinning as he goes, when a brown haired man comes wandering into the firehouse. He stops short when he sees the whole spectacle, then smiles.

Out of everyone there, only Hen has spotted him. At first she thinks he might need help, but they have to focus on Chris’s safety first. However, when she sees him stopping to watch, she knows that must be Eddie. Buck mentioned them getting married as friends, but looking at him smiling at Chris and Buck, she doesn’t know how much truth there was to that.

Her theory that this is Eddie is confirmed when Chris is safely on the ground. Buck is grinning down at him, not paying attention to anything else. Then Chris spots Eddie and smiles widely: “Daddy!”

“Hey, buddy,” Eddie smiles back.

Buck immediately turns to look at him, a love struck look coming on his face when he says: “Eddie, hey!”

Fucking hell, she was so right that there is a much more detailed and much more stupid story there. It is obvious to her that if these two are married as friends, they’re both lying to the other and maybe to themselves about it.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie greets back unnecessarily. “You two look like you are having fun.”

“We are,” Chris answers for them, bouncing up and down. “I got to try on papi’s helmet and sit in the rig and then we went to this crash and the sirens were on. We had these headsets and I got to see papi work. He saved this lady from her car. It was so cool!”

“That sounds very cool,” Eddie tells him, the utter adoration for his son clear in his eyes. He cards his hands through Chris’s hair and hugs him close.

While that happens, Buck has also come to circle the two of them. He says: “I thought tía Pepa was taking him today. You’re here early. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Eddie assures him. “Instructor let us go early today. I think he’s getting soft on us.”

“Pff, of course. LA training is soft on you all,” Buck teases.

Eddie rolls his eyes, apparently familiar with this particular taunt as he replies: “Here we go again. Let me guess, in Texas they forced you all to sweat through it like tough guys.”

“You got it,” Buck grins. “Anyway, I’m being rude. This here is Bobby, my Captain.”

Bobby steps forward, shaking Eddie’s hand as he says: “I’m Eddie Diaz, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” Bobby smiles. “And no need for sir. Just Bobby is fine.”

“This here is Hen and Chimney,” Buck moves on introducing both.

They shake Eddie’s hand too, telling him it’s nice to meet him while he returns the sentiment, though he adds: “It’s so nice to put a face to the names,” as he does. Whatever hiding Buck was doing, it was a one sided hiding act. However, none of them mention it. Not in front of Chris.

“So,” Buck claps his hands. “Did you come for a tour of the trucks too? I told Chris all the facts, he could probably give you a great tour. You know, since he’s been in an actual rig.”

“You’re full of it,” Eddie tells him, but he’s smiling too much to mean it.

“I know,” Buck replies simply and Hen wonders if they know they’re flirting.

Before either can figure that out, however, Chris tugs on Eddie’s hand, pleading: “Please, daddy, I can show you everything. There are loops on the hoses, just like papi said. Do they teach you that too?”

Eddie looks a little caught out, trapped between Chris and the 118. Carefully he says: “I’d love to, mijo, but papi and his team have people to save and help. We should give them space to work.”

“It’s okay,” Bobby says, before Chris can even pout properly. Much like his papi, Chris has got him wrapped around his little finger. “We have the house on low priority calls for the time being. You staying a little longer won’t be an issue.”

“You’re sure?” Eddie checks anyway.

“I’m sure.”

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says, before turning to Chris: “Well, then I would love a tour.”

Excitedly Chris directs Eddie to the trucks, telling him everything he’s just learned, while Buck chimes in from time to time with other tidbits or words Chris has forgotten. Throughout it all, Eddie listens with great pleasure. He’s clearly not as much of a talker, but it seems Chris and Buck more than make up for that.

While they all watch the family from the sidelines, Chimney asks: “So, does anyone know more about what their deal is?”

Bobby – the savior with actual information – answers: “From what I understand, they got married after Chris’s mom walked out so Buck could be there when Eddie had to go back into the military. They’ve been living together for three years, married two.”

Chimney whistles lowly, then checks: “And we all heard him say they’re married as friends, right?”

“Oh yes, we did,” Hen replies, sounding a little pained.

Next to her, Chimney cocks his head, watching Buck and Eddie bump shoulders every time they walk, because there is no space between them. Slowly, he asks: “And… are we… believing that?”

“Oh, definitely not,” Hen says.

“Come on, guys. Let’s not speculate too much. Buck hasn’t been comfortable sharing, we should respect that,” Bobby butts in, trying to be the responsible Captain.

That earns him a double judgmental look from both Chimney and Hen, before they ignore them and turn back to their conversation. “I don’t think Buck would do the whole sleeping around like that thing, if they were actually already together,” Hen says.

“So, we’re betting on pining.”

“Of course.”

“Okay, they’ve already been doing this for three years… That denial runs deep.”

“Yeah, it definitely does,” Hen agrees. “Did Buck mention anything about their communication to you, Bobby?”

Bobby sighs and rubs his brow, then decides he’s really no better than either of them. So, he admits: “It is their plan to divorce one day, but Buck hasn’t talked about it yet, because he fears Eddie will just cut him out.”

“…Now I don’t know if I should laugh at him or feel a deep sympathy,” Hen comments with a jikes grimace on her face.

“I told him to talk to Eddie about it. Clear the air,” Bobby offers.

“Twenty dollars on them figuring it out when Buck brings it up,” Chimney says confidently. “There is no way, Eddie is going to not kiss him about that.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Hen appraises Eddie again, squinting as she tries to get a read on him. “Twenty on them not figuring it out for another three years. And another forty on them never getting divorced.”

“Uhm, you can’t bet on things that are basically facts,” Chimney complains.

“Hey, you don’t know that!” Hen exclaims, knowing he is right, but she doesn’t care if it’ll get her forty dollars. They’ve been eyeing new cutlery.

“Ugh, fine! But I’d like it on the record that I protested it and I want my counter bet to be that they do a vow renewal instead,” Chimney says.

“Alright, deal,” Hen nods, shaking Chimney’s hand as they seal the deal.

They all return to watching the three at the trucks again. Buck has lifted Chris onto his shoulders, so he can properly point at all the things he’s talking about. Eddie is listening to him, sure, but he is definitely more focused on Buck.

After a few beats, Chimney wonders: “Hey, now that we know Buck adopted Chris and they met a few years ago. Do you all think there is some truth to him snatching Chris story?”

“God, I fucking hope not.” … “Five bucks says there is.”

“Ten says it’s an exaggeration.”

They shake on it.

“Fuck it,” Bobby mutters, then says: “Five on it being wilder than that.”

They shake with Bobby too, then wait until the tour is done. They haven’t gotten to speak with Eddie much, but it’s okay. Everyone has gotten the chance to observe him and he seems nice and polite when they say goodbye.

Buck stands there like a mom on the very first day of school, waving at them until they disappear when they do leave. The others kindly do not call him out on it. There is a bet now, so no interfering.

Still, the only reason they don’t ask, probably actually is because the alarm starts ringing so they have to go and focus on an emergency instead of Buck’s newly revealed private life.

Throughout the course of their shift, they do learn more details about how Buck got into that situation. When he tells them about dating Eddie’s ex-wife and meeting her while she shopped for eggs, is something they have a fucking filed day with. And it earns both Hen and Bobby some money.

They also learn about Eddie’s chopper getting shot down and Buck nursing him back to health. He chokes up a bit there and Hen rubs his shoulder.

As she does, she feels a little bad about the self satisfied grin she tucks away. If they can go through that and not confess, she was definitely right in placing her money on three years.

However, overall, it doesn’t change too much.

Still, when Buck comes in for his next shift, they all eagerly turn to him, wondering if he’ll turn back into over-sharer Buck now that the cat’s out of the bag. They need to know more about this nonsense he found himself in.

Buck does not disappoint. He eagerly hollers: “Eddie is not going to divorce me!” which turns the heads of everyone who hadn’t been there last shift. Seems like Buck is going to have to explain it all over again. And the betting pool will grow. Hen is so getting that new cutlery.

~~

A/N:

Credit to Memememe8989, who suggested this idea in the comments, I had a different idea that is somewhat related to this (which granted, I might still write), but this was just so iconic that it immediately gave my brainworms <333

Llsdkghdhkf there was so no reason for Buck to do pretend to have kidnapped Chris, but the idea was just too funny and you can’t tell me he wouldn’t in his awkward insecurity

The full phone convo for those curious:

B: “Eddie? Hi, yeah, Pepa said she called you.”

E: “She texted me to call you. Is everything okay?”

B: “Everything’s fine. Abuela’s not feeling well, so she dropped Chris off here, until her workday is done.”

E: “And is that okay? I don’t want you to get in trouble of this.”

B: “Uh, yeah, that’s okay. Everyone here is super nice and helpful. Bobby says we can figure something out. So, I’ll keep him for now, no worries. We’ll look at the trucks and he’ll be thrilled. You just focus on training, I doubt your instructor will be pleased with you taking calls like this or missing out.”

E: “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

B: “No problem. We’re a team remember. Bye.”

E: “I do. Still, thanks. Bye.”

[fizzyapplecandy]

Ateez as Supernatural Tropes

Other members

The one with the white feather

Angel Hongjoong x detective reader

Genres and warnings: angel Hongjoong, detective reader, crime scenes, blood, guns mentioned, minors dni, angst, mentions of death, somewhat happy ending, strangers to maybe lovers, mature language (if i missed something, feel free to correct me)

Word count: 3.2k

A single white feather changes the course of your life.

"Good morning detective."

"Morning Yeosang, how's it going?"

"As you can see." The forensic inspector gestured around him. "It's been a messy day."

You scanned the area around Yeosang, noting how bloody it was. The person who died in the early morning hours was doomed from the second that the sharp knife touched her throat.

"I see... Do we have any details?"

"I've already spoken to the other detectives, we found her ID in her wallet. There doesn't appear to be anything stolen."

You hummed, nodding along to his story when you noticed something not far away from the woman's body.

A feather. One single white feather was next to her. Immaculate, despite the blood surrounding it.

"And what is that?"

Yeosang followed where you were pointing, shrugging his shoulders.

"It was there when we got here. It doesn't appear to have anything to do with the case. I mean, it's just a feather, I'm not sure what bird it's from, but it was just... There."

"You don't plan on picking it up?" You questioned, and Yeosang almost seemed offended.

"Hey, I thought we were past you doubting my skills. The feather isn't relevant, Y/N, but I'll pick it up. Don't worry."

Maybe he was right. You were known as the strict one in your department, but there was no need to doubt him. He's proven himself many times before, and you'd be devastated if your friendship took a blow because of work.

Just as you were about to respond, a flash of white somewhere behind him made you stop. It was fleeting, almost non-existent, but you saw it. Yeosang noticed your silence, trying to get your attention. You shook your head, gathering yourself again.

"Sorry, what? I don't know what's going on, this is just not my morning."

"Hey, I get it. Come, the others want to give you the details. I've got to finish up here."

.

.

"I swear to God, if this case beats my ass I'm quitting."

"We both know you won't do that."

Namjoon, the head detective of your department commented off handedly, sipping on his lukewarm coffee.

"Yeah, I know I won't, but I'm just saying."

"You've said it many times before, and here we are. We both know you love this job more than anything."

You sighed, finishing the last sentence on your report.

The murder case from two days ago was in full investigation, but you didn't have a single clue about what happened. The crime scene was basically spotless, if you count out the amount of blood.

One thing that kept you awake at night was the singular feather found next to the body. It was unusual, and you pestered Yeosang to test it.

No dna was found, it was from an unfamiliar species, and there was nothing tying it to the woman.

Your fellow detectives, as well as Namjoon, told you it was pointless to dwell on it, but you couldn't stop.

The other thing on your mind was the figure that appeared fleetingly in front of you. Yeosang told you it was your lack of sleep that jumbled your mind, but you knew what you saw.

Well, you didn't exactly, but there was something.

"Okay, I'm done. I need to get out of this office before I fall asleep on my desk. Again."

The head detective chuckled, shooing you away.

"Off you go. I need my best employee to be well rested. Lots of bad guys to catch."

"You're funny, you know? Bye now."

Waving to the other officers still in the office, you made your way outside to your car.

With a heavy sigh, you turned on the engine and made your way home. You lived in a small house in the outskirts of town, and you loved it.

There was no noise, no neighbours, no distractions. It was pure heaven for you, but the road towards your house was a little creepy. You had to get past a wooded area, and sometimes the paranoia from your job got to you.

Tonight was one of those nights, where everything seemed suspicious to you. Fortunately, there was no traffic, and you were almost out of the woods when you noticed him.

There, in the middle of the road, stood a man dressed in white. He wasn't moving, no. He was staring straight at your car.

"Come on now, move along." You whispered, tightening your grip on the steering wheel.

The man gave no sign of moving, staying rooted in his spot.

"Oh for the love of... Hey! Move it!" You yelled out of your window, but to no avail. Your car came to a stop, almost too close to the person.

Now you got a better look at him, and he was surprisingly handsome. His hair was blonde, almost white, and his clothes were pristine.

"Are you deaf? You have to get off the street."

The man's expression changed from stoic to amazed in a second. He opened his mouth, and his voice was as angelic as his face.

"You... You can see me? You can really see me?"

"Of course? You're standing in the middle of the road! Everybody can see you!"

He shook his head, quickly approaching your side. You instinctively reached for the gun in your holster, but he only gripped the glass of the window, his smile never faltering.

"I knew you noticed me back then! Oh wow... You really are special."

"What the hell? Okay, either you move or I get out of the car and make you."

At this point you were bluffing a bit, hoping the stranger would just go his way. The situation was getting too weird, even for a crime investigator like you.

As if he realised he was doing something wrong, the man panicked, mouth going slack.

"Oh no. No, no, no."

Sensing his distress, you tried going at him with a softer approach.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"No, no. I gotta go. It was so lovely meeting you finally, and I'm sorry you won't remember me."

Your confused expression made him even more sad.

"What?"

"Goodbye, Y/N."

"Wait, how do you know my-"

In a flash, the man was gone, and you were in a daze. After shaking your head, it was like everything went back to normal.

Funny, you could have sworn you just talked to somebody.

Oh well, maybe the stress was finally getting to you.

"I need a drink. Or maybe six."

.

.

There was this creepy feeling following you the whole next day. As if you were meant to remember something, but you just couldn't. The case you were working on wasn't making it any easier.

"This is starting to become ridiculous." You muttered, sifting through the papers.

"No leads?" San, a fellow detective, asked while passing you a cup of hot coffee.

"None. It's like someone put her there and just vanished."

San sighed, looking over your shoulder at the documents. There was Yeosang's forensic report, which gave you the cause of death, but other than that, nothing.

"The motherfucker is skilled. Maybe he's done this before?" He asked, making you wonder as well.

Suddenly, as if you were possessed, you reached for a pen and found a piece of paper at the bottom of the pile.

There, you circled one word.

"Brother?" San questioned, his eyebrows scrunching up.

"Yeah?" You replied, almost in a daze.

Then, it came to you.

"Her brother! Of course! Their grandfather died recently, and the family business was inherited by her."

"But wasn't he at a hotel or something? We have the receptionist's statement."

You let out a forced laugh, glancing up at San.

"The man is known for bribing people, you don't think he could have done it to that poor man working minimum wage as well?"

"Good thinking. Want to pay him a visit?"

Standing up and gathering your things, you smiled at San.

"Hell yes."

"Let me go get my things."

Before he walked out, he stopped at the doorway.

"Hey, Y/N? How did you know?"

"What?" You asked, confused.

"Well, you just... Went for it? Was it a feeling?"

You stood there, now realizing what happened in the last few minutes.

"I don't... I don't know, to be honest."

San nodded, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh well... You have killer intuition."

.

.

"I knew you'd get it."

"Did you now?" You chuckled, clinking your glass against Yeosang's.

"Of course! You're the best detective I've ever met! And I'm not biased because you're my friend, I'm just stating the facts."

There were moments in life where you were thankful to have Yeosang as your friend, and this was one of them.

You successfully closed the case after confronting the victim's brother. The receptionist was easy to crack, and everything went smoothly afterwards. There was just one thing bugging you.

"It's a shame we don't know anything about the feather."

"What feather?"

Your hand stopped midway while lifting your drink, and you looked at Yeosang wide-eyed. His expression was the epitome of confusion.

"What do you mean 'what feather'? The one we found, completely unrelated to the case?"

"Y/N, I'm sorry, but there was nothing except for blood. You were there, you know that."

Silence fell over you, and your brain couldn't accept what he was saying. Was he messing with you?

Sensing your unease, he reached over to place your glass back on the table.

"Maybe you've had too much whiskey."

"This is my second glass."

"Yeah, well, maybe you're just too tired. Why don't I take you home now?"

You nodded, seemingly in a daze again. Yeosang led you out the bar and into his car, helping you buckle up. The ride home was quiet, with him trying to take your mind off the last conversation.

"And here we are. Get some sleep, okay? We'll talk tomorrow."

"Yeah... Yeah, I'll do that. Thank you, Sangie."

Without a second thought, you reached over to place a kiss on his cheek, exiting the car afterwards.

The image of the feather flashed in your mind again, and you couldn't stop thinking about it. You didn't even notice yourself unlocking your door and taking off your shoes.

Maybe you'd have been in a daze until you reached your bedroom, if it weren't for the fact that a man was standing in your living room.

"You're home!"

"What the hell?!"

Reaching for your waist, you pulled out your little handgun and pointed it at the stranger. His eyes widened, hands immediately going in the air.

"Hey now, why would you do that? I know you don't remember me, but there's no need to get so violent."

Your hands started shaking. Where have you seen him before? He was so eerily familiar.

That's when you noticed the white feathers scattered around the floor.

The same as the one heavy on your mind.

"Who are you? How did you get inside?" You asked, taking a few steps forward. The man still hasn't moved, but he now put his hands down.

"I'm Hongjoong. You don't know me as well as I know you, but I've been around for some time."

"Okay, Hongjoong. How exactly do you know me?"

He smiled. "Easy, I'm your guardian angel. I mean, I'm an angel, period, but I've come to like you a bit too much."

You gasped. "Are you on drugs? You definitely are, there's no way a sane person would say these things!"

"You don't believe me? Fine, I expected it."

Without another word, Hongjoong turned his back to you and spread out his arms.

That's when a pair of snow white wings sprang from his shoulders, knocking over a lamp on your coffee table.

"See? Don't they look cool?"

There wasn't one single credible explanation for what you were seeing, so you just... Sat down on the floor. Your gun was still clutched tightly in your hands, not yet ready to let your guard down. Hongjoong's eyes widened, a panicked expression taking over.

"Oh heavens! Are you okay? I can help you if you let me."

"N-No, no. Just... Stay where you are."

He surprisingly listened to you, staying rooted in his spot. His wings were still present, the white feathers shining in the dim light of your living room lamp.

"So... Angel?" You asked, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

"Yep. I'm not really your guardian, but I took it upon myself to watch over you."

"Why is that?"

He sighed, sitting down on the floor a few feet from you.

"Well... I was once present to guide an unfortunate person to heaven. I saw you then, and I don't know... We can sense when people are in trouble, and you seem like a magnet for it. Part of the job, I suppose."

"Tell me about it." You huffed.

"After bumping into you again a second time, I decided to linger around. Why do you think you feel so safe when going home? I calm you down."

Your eyebrows scrunched up, wondering what we meant. It came to you then. Sometimes when you drive home, you feel like someone wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. It's fleeting, but it calms your nerves.

"That's you? I thought I was imagining it."

"All me." Hongjoong smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

"But why are you here? Last time... Wait."

You realized then. "I saw you! On the road! It was you!"

"Yes, it was. I had to erase it from your memory, it's forbidden for angels to show themselves around humans."

"What about now? You're still here, I'm looking at you."

He smiled, albeit a bit sad.

"I know that as well. I thought it wouldn't come to this, but... Once you see my feather, your fate has been sealed."

It's when you realize what he meant that it really hit you.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?"

Hongjoong only nodded. Silence overcame you again.

There was an angel in your house, telling you your death was close. This wasn't the evening you wanted to have, not in the slightest.

"So, how's that going to go? Are you here to, I don't know, help me?" You asked finally, looking straight into his eyes.

"I can't tell you that, but I promise I'll be there. I'm not planning on leaving you hanging. Besides, it will be nice to have a friend to teach you the ropes once you get here. Sorry, that might have been a bit insensitive."

"You think? Holy hell, I can't believe this."

You placed the gun back into your holster, standing up and walking into your kitchen. Hongjoong trailed after you, eager to have your attention.

"It's nice where I'm from, you know? I have a lot of friends, you'll get along just fine. And we've already decided what your job will be. Let me tell you, they don't let just anybody rank this high from the start."

"Will you please stop talking about my death like it's nothing?! I'm trying so hard not to have a breakdown right now, but you're not helping!" You yelled finally, your emotions taking over.

Hongjoong nodded, looking sad again. It kind of made you feel bad. He was clearly here to help you, and yeah it sucked to hear those things from him, but at least you won't be alone.

You knew your job came with a lot of risk, and that you'd end up hurt in action. It never occurred to you that you might... Die.

"I'm sorry, Hongjoong. I know you mean well, but it's a lot to take. I'm basically going to live the rest of however long my life is in fear. You really can't tell me when it will happen?"

He shook his head, taking a seat on a stool by the kitchen island.

"No, I'm not allowed. The only thing I can say... And I'm doing this because I really like you, is that you will die doing what you love, all the while protecting important people in your life. It's just who you are."

Well, that kind of made you a bit more relaxed. At least you know it is work related. That kind of made sense.

"And you'll be there?"

"Of course. I won't let you do this alone. You may not know me that well, yet, but I do know you."

You snorted a laugh, busying yourself with making some tea for the both of you. Do angels even drink tea?

"Oh really? What's my favourite colour?"

"Easy, red. You mostly wear black, but the few pieces you wear out are always red. Your nails are red, when you take the time to paint them."

You huffed. "Okay, that wasn't a tough question. Hmm... What's my least favourite movie and why?"

He stayed silent for a moment, and you thought you won, but he surprised you again.

"Twilight. The second one especially. You watch it when you want to laugh, because you always make fun of the acting. And you find it really cringe. However, you watch it when you feel down. It gives you a reason to laugh."

"Hongjoong..."

You handed him a cup, and when he reached over to take it, your fingers brushed. The touch was brief, but it sent a shock through your whole body. It was like a sting, but a pleasant one. He smiled afterwards, nodding like it confirmed something he thought about.

"What was that?" You whispered, too stunned to speak.

"Something... Magical. I know you felt it, you wouldn't be looking like that if you didn't. But that's not something you have to worry about now. Do you have any more questions? I'll try to answer them if I can."

It dawned on you suddenly.

"Oh God! Yeosang! I don't talk to my parents, I didn't even think about them, but him! He'll be devastated."

"He'll be fine. Believe me. He'll be sad, but somebody will be his shoulder to cry on. Maybe you even know it yourself." A knowing smile formed on his face, and you nodded enthusiastically.

"San? Oh my... Does it take me dying for them to finally confess to each other? A bunch of whimps."

Hongjoong chuckled, and you couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"At least something good will come from it."

He stopped, standing up to approach you.

"Y/N... I'm really sorry for barging in on you like this. It wasn't my intention. I just... You were always so close, but so far away at the same time. Don't hold it against me."

You looked at him, noting how sincere he sounded. It was like it pained him to be away from you, but it didn't make it easier that you had to die soon.

"I... I can't really think right now, I'm still in shock, but... It will be nice to have someone next to me. You know, once I pass. Maybe you're just the thing I needed."

His hand was on the island, and you couldn't help but reach for it again. Your fingers touched, the sparks going up your arm. Neither of you moved, and you just let the feeling sink in.

"It's... Strange. How I don't feel as scared as I thought I would."

"I'm here. I'm here to make it all easier. I will be next to you, as long as you let me."

Your eyes met again, and this time you smiled, the unease gone.

"I think I'll keep you for a while."

.

.

[harmonyrae]

Power Couple

CHAPTER 14 - Right Here

I’d like to apologize for this chapter, it’s gonna hurt. Like angst doesn't even begin to describe this. Also, this is completely my own head cannon & is ABSOLUTELY NOT lore accurate (as far as we know).

Photo: From Pinterest, all credit to original poster NSFW: Mentions/Depictions of violence, PTSD, torture, death

Your armchair is not as comfortable as you remember. You sit with your knees curled up to your chest. Your hoodie pulled down over your knees, your arms hugging your legs. You rest your chin on your knee, trying to organize your thoughts. You try to imagine you are so small that no one will know you’re even there. 

The lights are dimmed, you can barely see Sylus sprawled out on the floor of the cage. You remember the night you first brought Sylus here. You were so confident, how did you end up here again? 

You replay that night in your head. His voice echoing in your ear. You stare blankly at his unconscious form, digging your fingernails into your palms willing yourself not to cry.

"I’d hate to disappoint you Miss Hunter."

But he did.

"But her mind… that’s what is most fascinating. It’s brilliant, calculated, and somewhat haunting."

And now it’s haunted by him. His voice. His touch. His empty promises.

"Seems like everything about you is special, kitten."

You were a means to an end. A tool to be used and tossed aside. Nothing special.

A soft groan brings you back to the present. You see Sylus roll away from you and onto his side. His back muscles tensing as he tries to ground himself. He reaches a hand up to the side of his neck. He lets out a soft grunt as his fingers trace the sensitive flesh where the needle deposited the heavy drug. He sits up and scans the room, his eyes straining against the darkness.

You hold your breath. You know he can crush the doors of the cage and simply walk out. But this is the only place you could think of bringing him. You could at least lock him in the lower levels of your tower long enough to evacuate everyone else if it came to that. You take a deep breath before using your phone to turn up the lights. Sylus’ eyes snap to yours in an instant. He was usually hard to read, his emotions hidden behind a wall. But when you look at him, you can see he is raw and broken. 

You pull your hoodie up to release your legs, you shiver as the cold air hits your bare skin. You stand and slowly make your way closer to the cage. The room is eerily quiet, the soft pitter patter of your bare feet on the linoleum echoing through the room. As you approach the cage, Sylus shifts to face you. He makes no attempt to stand up. He draws one leg up and props his arm on his knee. 

“There’s a shirt on the chair.” Your voice is void of emotion. You barely recognize it.

Sylus glances over to the chair to see the sweater you brought for him to put on. He returns his gaze to you. His eyes have glazed over, if it wasn’t for his ragged breathing you’d think he was perfectly calm. He tilts his head as he looks you over. From your head to your toes, it doesn’t feel sensual this time, he’s sizing you up. Trying to determine your motives.

“Why?” 

One word. That’s all he says. The base in his voice is amplified, the simple question rings in your ear. You straighten up, your eyes narrow and you cross your arms. You’re the motherfucking leader of Himitsu, time to act like it.

“That is the question of the hour, isn’t it Oni?”

At the mention of his code name, his eyes close. He drops his head. He sighs deeply before looking up to you once more.

“Did the kid tell you before you killed him or did you dig that up on your own?” His words cut through you like a razor.

“Have you heard of a hacker who goes by the name of Macintosh?” Sylus nods. “He’s on my payroll. Took him less than 24 hours to narrow it down once he had the burner.” 

His jaw clenches. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, his eyes finally dropping to the floor.

“Bit of advice. Tossing a burner off the pier is not the most effective disposal method.” Sylus chuckles. 

“And what would you suggest then, kitten?” 

That’s when you lose it. 

“Don’t fucking call me that. I’m not your goddamn kitten. But I am, apparently, your plaything, right? Distract me, fool me, fuck me. Was that your plan? So you could stroll into my territory and do as you please? Attack my clients? Destroy Himitsu?”

Sylus jumps to his feet and stalks over towards. He tries to grab you through the bars, but you’ve moved far enough back. He uses his evol to pull you forward. Before you reach the bars your gun is in your hand. Your body slams against the bars, you look up to see the barrel of your gun resting at the center of Sylus’ forehead. He doesn’t back away or try to pry the gun out of your hand. He rests his head against the barrel and holds your upper arms tightly against the bars. 

“Do you really think I fucked you as a distraction?” 

You can’t stop your bottom lip from quivering. The tears you’ve held back threaten to fall once more. You take a deep breath and try to force a smile.

“I wouldn’t be surprised at this point. You’ve lied about everything else.” 

“I’ve never lied about how I feel about you. I can’t.” 

“But you did lie.” Sylus finally reaches a hand up to your face, holding your chin steady. His thumb slowly brushes against your jaw.

“I’m sorry.” 

You break away from him. He doesn’t try to pull you back. You drop your gun on the table next to your armchair. Your fingers rake through your hair as you try to calm down. When you turn back to Sylus, he has an arm propped above his head leaning against the bars of the cage. His other hand extended through the bars to you.

“Please let me tell you why. Why Ridgeway and why I couldn’t tell you.”

You stare at him. His bare chest and strong arms make you ache for him. Your body craves him and it hurts to resist. Your heart hammers in your chest. Should you give him the chance? Your mind drifts to earlier that morning. Sitting in the tub, your body pressed against his, his voice in your ear, that heartbreaking tone as he tells you about your shared Aether fragments.

"You wished we could be free. And I made you a promise, that I would find a way for you to be free."

Your heart wanted nothing more than to reach out to him. To hold him close. You see his arm drop and retreat back into the cage, his head pressing against the bar. You take a cautious step forward. His eyes flutter up to meet yours. You wrap your arms around yourself.

“Why?” 

“Ridgeway has a brother. Goes by Sinclair. He’s a member of the board for a medical tech company. I needed information on Sinclair and I was hoping Ridgeway had records that could lead me to whatever hole he has crawled into.”

“Why are you hunting Sinclair? And how does burning down Ridgeway Liquors help you with that? And why couldn’t you have just talked to me about this?” 

“I needed to send a message to Sinclair. His family will suffer if he crosses a line. I couldn’t tell you… I couldn’t…” He struggles to form the words, he starts to tap his head on the bars. Slowly building the intensity until his forehead is red.

You close the distance and grab onto his hand that has reached up to hold onto a bar. He stops and looks down at you. His eyes are hazy, a tear finally falls.

“I couldn’t risk them finding you.”

You blink rapidly, trying to process what he could mean. 

“Sinclair was one of the doctors that worked on us. He’s looking for you.” 

Your eyes widen and you shake your head.

“I made a promise to you. I promised I’d find a way for you to be free. And I found a way. As long as I knew you were safe, I could deal with what they did to me. But when I heard he was leaving to look for you, I couldn’t let that happen. You’ve kept your identity hidden, it’s bought you time. But if he finds out, he’ll come for you. You being unaware kept you safe, at least that's what I convinced myself.” 

“What do they want with me?”

“You’re an energy source. The most pure and regenerative source ever discovered.”

“Is it the Aether core? What about you?”

“The Aether core amplifies your evol, changes it. Possibly adding to it if you’re unlucky. They used me for… honestly, I don’t know how long. But my energy isn’t enough it seems.”

“Is Sinclair working alone or…” 

“The group he runs, their slogan is A New Kind of Energy for a Brighter Tomorrow - safe to say he most likely has a small army hunting us.”

“I thought I knew every major corporation in the Zone.”

“It’s not in the Zone. It’s in Linkon. But they have their people everywhere.”

“What’s the name?”

“Ever.”

Your heart skips a beat. The name feels burned into your memory. But something Sylus said before is the only thing you can think of. You are afraid to ask, but it’s tearing you up inside.

“You said you could deal with what they did to you… What did they do?” 

Sylus drops his gaze to your hand, still wrapped around his hand on the bar. You see his eyes dim, as if he has retreated into his mind. You squeeze his hand, reassuring him.

“After I helped you escape, they punished me. More experiments, more surgeries. As I became more powerful they put more security measures in place. I can’t access all of my power. They called it a 'bio-metric inhibitor'. All I remember is I couldn’t get out of bed for weeks. Eventually they installed a patch over my eye so I couldn’t control anyone. My cell was the energy conduit they used to…”

He looked up at you now, the pain in his eyes so great you could hardly breathe. You hadn’t noticed you had started crying. He brings his arm down to reach through the bars and brush the tears away. You lean into his touch.

“I’ll stop.”

“No. Sylus. Please tell me.” He takes a deep breath before looking down to stare at his feet.

“The regenerative part… when they drain the energy… it… it kills you.” A sob escapes your throat. Sylus doesn’t look up.

“When they first tested their theory… they chose you. No matter how much I begged and fought, they took you away. And when you came back, you had no idea who I was. After that, I spent every day, every hour, every minute working on a plan for you to escape. A month later, I succeeded. You were free. I don’t know how long it was before they needed another energy transference but when they strapped me down I found myself hoping to forget. To forget losing you. But then I woke up. And I remembered everything. My first surgery when they cut into my eye, the first time I saw you, the first time we touched, the first time we kissed, the first time we made love, every time there was pain in your eyes, the fear in them when I put you on the shuttle…”

His grip on the bars was weakening, his body shaking as he spoke. You were frozen, listening to what he went through, for you. Your heart ached. But nothing could have prepared you for what he said next.

“And I remembered how it felt to die. Pain so intense I wanted to tear myself in half. Blinding heat then complete stillness then everything was cold. So fucking cold. And dark. It was completely dark, no light anywhere, I searched for days but it was just dark. I found myself wishing for pain and then I’d feel it, like a knife in my chest, my heart started again. I opened my eyes and I was back. I don’t remember how many times I died. I stopped counting. But every time I woke up I would look for you. Wishing that my previous life was a dream and you were still there with me. And every time I would see your empty room and… and I…” 

His voice finally broke. His grip on the bars faltered and he sank to the floor. He pulled his legs up to his chest, for the first time he looked small. You ran to the door of the cage and pressed your thumb to the lock. The door swung open and you rushed inside, crashing down next to Sylus, your arms wrapping around him. You pull his head to your chest and run your fingers through his silver hair. His body was shaking and he didn’t dare touch you. He wouldn’t even look at you. Desperate to bring him back to you, you start placing gentle kisses to his shoulders and up to his neck. You see his eyes close and you move to sit behind him, your legs on either side of his torso. Your arms pull him back towards you. You caress his chest and place kisses on his back.

You sit like that for what feels like hours until one of his hands reaches up to take yours. He strokes your palm slowly. 

“Y/N…?” 

“I’m here. I’m right here.” 

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 7

And now you see why I waited until I had this part written before posting the last one? That was one hell of a cliffhanger. Also everyone gets a dig at Al in this. It's family bonding event. But Steve has the best burn I think.

Just a heads up, Steve talks about being abused...heads up if that's a trigger for you.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

***

Steve placed his hand on Eddie’s back the second he felt his friend stiffen next to him.

“Deep breath, Eds,” he murmured. “There is nothing he can say to you that I will let him get away with, okay? Deep breath. Let me and Wayne handle this.”

Eddie let out a deep breath. “Just careful, Stevie. He’s been known to charm snakes out of their skin.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. So that’s the kind of man he was. He knew that kind of man intimately. His own father was like that. He knew what to watch for now that he had been forewarned.

He plastered a solemn expression on his face, that to everyone who didn’t know him well enough would think sincere, but to Eddie and Wayne, they could see the hard set line of his jaw as he kept one eye on Al and the other on the proceedings.

The funeral wrapped up and everyone lined up to throw dirt on the now lowered coffin. Al tried to get directly behind Eddie, but Steve seamlessly inserted himself between them.

Al bristled but the portly man next to him coughed and he was forced to back down.

Finally the family was all that remained as they all walked back to the church.

The portly man stuck to Al like glue and Steve felt a sudden warmth for the boys in blue at that moment. Because he was pretty sure that even though Al Munson had been granted a furlough, someone was paying to keep that man on a short leash.

The family and a small handful of friends arranged themselves on the pews and waited.

It wasn’t too long until a funny little man with thick bottled glasses came hurrying in.

“I’m sorry Mrs Nelson,” he twittered to Penny. “I had a hard time getting to the church.”

Penny just nodded. “It’s all right Mr Mulbury, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He walked up the pulpit and put his briefcase on it. He pulled out a piece of paper of it and then walked back around the pulpit, leaving the briefcase where it was.

“Ehhm,” Mr Mulbury coughed. “The last will and testament of Gina Munson goes as follows...”

He read it out, people getting little trinkets and things that were meaningful to them, instructions on what to do with her clothes and other things that wouldn’t be given to friends or family.

And then it came time to divide up her meager savings. “My savings of five thousand dollars will be divided three ways. To Penny, you get a thousand to repair that lovely house of yours. I know you didn’t want anything, but use it for your family, dearest girl. Love you all the best.”

Penny laughed a watery little chuckle. She shook her head fondly.

“To Wayne, you get two thousand dollars to finally get that motor home you always wanted. When the time is right, retire and see the world like you always dreamed of. See the stars, my beautiful boy. You deserve stars.”

Wayne teared up, coming down in rivers down his face. Both Steve and Eddie hugged him tight.

“To Allen, who had squandered every good thing he every had, his loving wife, his devoted son, his talents and his good sense, you get nothing. You deserve nothing. If you are here to hear this, I hope it is because the state of Texas deemed it so, and not because you have been set loose again on the world.”

There was a gasp from those gathered and they descended into harsh whispers as they wondered aloud who got the remaining two thousand dollars.

Mr Mulbury cleared his throat. “Instead the remaining two thousand will be given to your son, Edward. Through your actions that boy has suffered so, and because of your actions he will receive not only the money, but all my love as well. Live your dreams, Eddie. Be that star for your uncle. Shine brighter then even that of Polaris. Butterfly kisses into the sunset, darling boy.”

Now Eddie was crying too. Two thousand wouldn’t get him far, but it could get him started. He raised a shaking hand to his quivering lips. Steve grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it.

Eddie looked over and Steve mouthed, “you deserve it.”

He nodded back.

Finally there were some other little things to be wrapped up in the will and then it was all over.

Everyone stood and Steve looked over at Al for the first time since they entered the church. The man had a smile plastered on his face that sent chills down Steve’s spine. Whenever his father wore that expression it meant trouble for someone, usually Steve.

They mingled for a bit, waiting until Penny’s friend came back to tell her that dinner was ready for them. Penny, Wayne, Steve, and Eddie all clustered together while everyone else gathered in other groups.

People were coming up and telling Eddie how much he deserved the money and how much his grandmother loved him. It made Steve puff out his chest in pride.

Finally Al came over and all four of them stiffened.

“Eddie, my boy!” Al greeted warmly. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You’re spitting image of your old man.” He lifted a handcuffed hand with a jaunty little wave. “I’d hug ya, but I’m on a bit of a leash.”

Penny bristled. “I paid good money for that leash, I’m glad to see it working.”

The men turned to her in shock.

“Did you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “that the state of Texas was going to let him come to the funeral without a guard to make sure he didn’t escape? And that you actually have to pay for that service?”

Al grinned. “Ah...Penny-elle-oh-pee, you shouldn’t have.” His voice dropped low and menacing. “You really shouldn’t have.”

The portly man nudged him with his elbow. Al straightened up, his charming mask firmly in place.

Wayne shook his head. “Al, Al, Al...you never did know when to fold and when to call.”

Al turned to his brother for the first time. “Big brother always watching out for everyone and never getting ahead. How much they pay you at that workhouse? You know the one, the one that took Dad’s life?”

Wayne grinned. “Pretty good considering we union’ed up about five years ago. Which would have known if you actually read any of the letters I sent you. Just like you would have known about what Eddie looks like now...”

Steve hurried to cover his snort, but Al whipped his head his direction.

“And who the hell are you?”

Steve eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “Steve Harrington, my mother is Sophia Kincade, of the Lexington Kincades and a good friend of your son’s.”

Al turned to Penny. “Why he is here with family?”

Wayne bristled. “This is the boy that saved your son during that major earthquake we had earlier this year. Another thing you’d know if you’d read my damn letters. He deserves to be here just as much as you if not more so.”

Just then Penny’s friend came in and told them that dinner was ready for the family.

Al ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned. “Hey, Bernie, how much time have we got?”

The portly man looked at his watch. “We’ve got about an hour before we have to leave to catch our flight.”

Penny furrowed her brow but knew she couldn’t deny him dinner as much as it grated.

The friends that had been at the reading made their goodbyes and soon everyone else was filing into cars.

Penny and her family in her blue Chevy, Steve, Eddie and Wayne in his BMW, and Al and Bernie in an unmarked Crown Vic.

They get to the house and the scents of a home cooked meal waft from the open front door.

They all go sit down at the table, Danny and Wayne pulling out two more chairs for their unwelcomed guests.

Steve was disappointed to see that not only was there enough food to feed Al and Bernie, but that there was enough food to feed a fucking army.

Penny’s friend’s name is Lucy and her daughter Beth is one of Lauren’s friends, too. They’re both blonde with bright blue eyes and curvy bodies.

They are bustling around the table making sure everyone has enough food.

About half way through dinner Al speaks up. “So you still playing that guitar of yours, Ed?”

Eddie stiffened. “I’ve got a red NJ Warlock that I play now.”

“Ooh...fancy,” Al whistled. “You steal it?”

Lauren and Wayne bristled, but Eddie scoffed. “No, but I did steal an RV once while on the run wanted for murder, but they were a bunch of pricks anyway.”

Wayne and Steve stifled a laugh while the rest of the family looked as though they weren’t sure if he was telling the truth or not.

“Cleared of all charges,” Steve added with a sly smile. “Court ruled it extenuating circumstances.”

It was Eddie’s turn to hide his smile in his napkin.

Al’s mood darkened. He didn’t like being out of the inside joke. “You gonna do anything with the talent I gave ya, teaching you how to play on that beat up ‘ole six string?”

This time Eddie rankled. How dare AL imply that he had anything to do with his ability to play guitar? As if the real reason wasn’t sitting right there at the table.

Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, calming him.

“Was that before or after you taught him how to hotwire a car?” he asked, faux innocence.

Al sputtered.

“See, I always got the impression,” Steve continued, “that instead of teaching Eddie how to play guitar or throw a ball you were too busy trying to make sure your son followed in your footsteps straight into the penitentiary.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide with barely contained glee.

“While Wayne on the other hand,” he said scratching his temple, “was working hard to put on the table, get Eddie through school, and give him the best life he could given the hand you dealt both of them. Now, I’m just some outsider, but I know what it’s like to have a shit dad.”

The room was stock still. Steve didn’t think that they were even breathing at this point, but he pressed on.

“Didn’t fit into the box he built? He hit me. Didn’t get captain my sophomore year, something that had never been done ever? He hit me. Didn’t date the right girl? He hit me. Ditched my asshole friends? He hit me. Now, I don’t know if you’re cut from the same cloth or not. I don’t give a fuck. But you tell another lie like that one to these honest folk, and Officer Bernie here will be taking you back to Texas in a body bag.”

Al jumped to his feet, but before he could even twitch Steve’s direction Bernie whipped out a taser and zapped him with it. Soon he was doing a different kind of twitching.

On the floor.

Bernie began clapping and soon everyone else was too.

Steve blushed. “To think I could have been like that asshole if it wasn’t for getting some sense knocked into me by people who actually gave a damn. I’m sorry he ruined dinner.”

Penny scoffed. “Dinner isn’t ruined. Wayne, Danny please help the kind officer take out the trash.”

Officer Bernie chuckled. “Much appreciated, ma’am.”

Wayne and Danny stood up and helped him take Al back into the Crown Vic.

Wayne went through and made sure that Al didn’t steal anything or had anything that might be a danger to the good officer. He never had trusted Al, even as kids and he sure the hell wasn’t going to start now.

Soon the officer was on his way and the family sat down to eat the dinner that was so wonderfully prepared in peace. Like Gina had always intended.

Wayne smiled at Steve. He was proud of how he had stood up to Al for his boy.

****

Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster

[eeboshmeebo]

👁️I see you, and I love you.👁️

Part 2 of Perfection in Pettiness.

================================================

[(︶-︶)]

You held Monoma's hand as you both walked back home from the comic store, a brand-new series of Belgian comics and groceries you were tasked to buy in tow. It was peaceful with only the slightest hints of tension until he started talking.

"Hey, darling?" He asked, glancing at you with a worried look on his face as you both continued walking back to UA.

"Hmm? Yes, my love? What is it?"

He looked around, biting his inner cheek as his face scrunched up slightly, but decided to say it anyways.

"I... I'm worried about Itsuka, you know? She went on a date with a guy along with Pony who came along to make sure everything's alright and she texted the rest of the class about it, but we haven't seen her. Not recently, anyways."

Your hand tightened around his own as you both walked through the city, pulling him closer so he wouldn't be on the crosswalk for too long while walking.

"Yeah, I'm worried too. All we can do is hope for the best and trust her, along with Pony, okay? I'm sure Vlad and the rest of the teachers know what's going on."

You were a bit annoyed at the mention of the two girls. He couldn't know, though, so you just masked it with nervousness and a reassuring squeeze of his hand along with a smile. That seemed to do the trick, as he seemed less nervous than before as he followed you.

The walk back to UA was pretty quick, fueled by both his worry and your 'worry' for your classmates from 1-B.

[◉_◉]

In the class lounge, after you had put the groceries away, Monoma was on the couch reading the first volume of the comics he had bought.

Of course, you were right next to him. Or, more accurately, you had your chin on his lap, looking up at him with your knees on the ground and your hands on his thighs.

"How's the comic so far, love?"

He peeked past the comic, setting it down and sighing right before he patted your head.

"I'm too stressed to really focus on it right now, with two classmates missing and the test we have in two weeks. AND I'm still working on the slideshow to prove that we're superior to that other class! That's a lot of work!"

He flopped on the couch, another sigh escaping his lips before turning into a gasp of surprise when you moved on top of him to lay your face on his chest.

"How about a little cuddling to relieve some of that stress, then?"

"Hmmmmnnnhhh..."

"I know you want to, to have a little break from it all..."

"Nnnnnnnnn..."

"I'm right here already half-cuddling you, my love."

"Fiiiiine."

He whined, but he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your hair despite his initial protest. You could tell he still wasn't used to this with how fast his heart was beating through his chest, but you loved every bit of him

From the smallest hair to the largest organ.

He was perfect. He is perfect. Flaws were perks in your eyes. You love him.

You love him.

You snuggle against his chest, enjoying the warmth of the shared moment, the closeness, the scent of the clothes he wears, the firmness of his body. Everything.

No shame in taking a little nap.

A few minutes later, he had noticed you fell asleep, so he let a smile rise on his face before carrying you to your dorm.

(⓿◡⓿)

The next morning, you woke up with him by your side along with a few books. Oh, such a delightful sight, you wished you could just lock him up and keep him to yourself forever and ever...

But Neito wouldn't be Neito without the attention of the masses. The attention that made him glow with pride and joy, that gave him purpose. You understood, since he was your purpose anyhow.

"Good morning, my love."

You kissed his forehead and rubbed the crust out of his eyes as he woke up slowly, mumbling about something incoherent. You had your arms around him, which you retracted so he could sit up by himself.

"Feeling like having something for breakfast, love?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

Oh, how you loved those eyes and those lips. Not even the 'morning breath' could keep you from staring at those lips which sounded out 'crepe'. Crepes for breakfast? A classic. You were far too busy listening to his melodic tone than his actual words, so you hoped that you were correct.

"Crepes, huh? Alright," You sat up from the bed, stretching. It was pretty early in the morning, if the sun peeking over the horizon hinted towards anything. You stood up, looking towards him...

"Hmm. I can bring breakfast to you if you want-"

"Noooooo! I wanna watch you make em'..."

You grinned at how he whined and clung onto you even while he was still bleary from just waking up so early. He was clearly unused to waking up at this time, so you let him be.

"Okay, okay, and you can watch. Just don't touch the pan."

"Mmm-hmm."

He followed you out of the room and to the dorm kitchen, where you prepped the ingredients and washed from dishes from last night that your classmates probably forgot to do after dinner.

You let Neito choose what fruits and fillings he wanted in the crepe. He always chose the best things. He's perfect...

Soon after you finished washing the dishes, you took out a flat crepe pan from the cabinet, greasing it with butter and letting it heat it up on the stove before mixing the flour and other dry ingredients together.

Neito watched as you cooked, as you let the batter spread over the pan and how it cooked before you put it on a cutting board, put all the fillings inside and a small drizzle of syrup on top, and gave the finished crepe to him.

"Tell me when you want another, okay? I've got plenty of batter left."

"Okay!"

You focused on cooking, since everything you cooked for him had to be perfect. It had to be, only perfection was worthy of perfection, and to you, Neito was the pinnacle of all perfection.

Some of your classmates were roused by the scent of cooking. Of course you made crepes for them, but without any of the fancy flair you put in Neito's crepes.

Blatant favoritism, but it was excused since everyone knew you loved him. Just not how much.

"Man, Kendo would love these! Too bad she hasn't come back yet, along with Pony." said Tetsutetsu, while shoving a crepe into his mouth. He never really cared for taking time while eating, though it was a bit endearing.

"I think she'll be back eventually. We just gotta hold out hope."

Empty words came out of your mouth, because there was one thing you knew that nobody else didn't.

Pony Tsunotori and Itsuka Kendo weren't coming back.

Pony was sweet, but she saw too much. A witness. Witnesses had to be rid of.

They won't find the bodies.

That thought made the strawberry in your mouth taste both sweeter and sourer. A pity she had to go, but it was necessary. You couldn't risk her telling anyone.

You held Neito's hand for comfort. She'd never tell anyone anything ever again, and it was all for him.

================================================

I'm sorry Pony, and Itsuka, but sacrifices had to be made for the plot! ಥ_ಥ

[lesbianoms]

I kind feel like there’s an unspoken rule that safe vore and endo has become “sfw vore” and the kinkier side is generalized as fatal only. It feels like whenever someone has a vore kink they are also expected to be okay with digestion and death. I’ve found a handful of creators who make kinky endo content but it’s very few and far between and I just wish that “kinky” didn’t automatically register as “bones and murder and the screams of innocent prey >:)” because like that’s really distressing to me a lot of the time.

[starlightwoofwoof]

DOUBLE EENE AU LORE POSTING, WE GOT THE VILLAIN! AU THIS TIME WOOP WOOOOOO- ‼️‼️‼️

okay uh I know I said it was a fandom specific thing that I didn’t wanna say because it was embarrassing- but it did make me wonder what their backstory would be if this was a villain AU OUTSIDE of the fandom thing

and now I kinda have an idea

Not exactly sure when in the EENE timeline this would all take place, but if I am going for this idea, it’ll probably be during the Big Picture Show, like, if it went a different route

okay, this AU starts off a little dark uh

Ed, uh, let’s just say, took an eternal nap in a horrific accident

(haven’t really thought of any details because it kinda made me sad, but yeah, poor kid got bonked)

Long story short, Double D and Eddy’s fight was a lot more intense, and whatever happened during it caused Eddy to horrifically transform into ‘???’

How??? I don’t know, haven’t really thought about how they exactly turn into these guys in the first place outside of the fandom thing-

Anyway, after that, Double D takes whatever is left of Ed, goes back home and tries to put him back together and bring him back to life, Frankenstein style

Surprisingly enough, this wasn’t exactly the thing that made Double D turn into Dr. Dread. It definitely played a big role in doing so though lol (looks like Ed’s eternal nap wasn’t as eternal as I thought-)

What broke Edd was realizing that Ed, who is now Patient E by this point, barely recognized him, or remembered anything from his past life

so yeah uh that’s how I like to think they came to be outside of the whole fandom thing :3

[asktheevilgeniusesson]

Metal, are you still bullying and stomping on random wild animals?

The robot turns to stare at you with blood, feathers and fur sticking to his robotic feet and claws. He doesn’t look any bit remorseful.

“Yes.”

[captainhysunstuff]

The saucy thing that L sees is below the cut~.

A little something for @dnkinktober. Not very explicit, but it could sorta satisfy the prompts of lingerie, slight roleplay, and implied voyeurism. I guess cock bulge? It's there. *shrug*

I literally saw this in a dream: that I was reading a doujinshi with this exact scene. It was me yelling at L instead of Ryuk, but still. Ryuk wants to get the show on the road! I'm sure they banged hard after L pulled himself back together. *nods*

Happy early birthday, L~.

[schrijverr]

I Was Wondering if You Guys Would Come to Chris’s Birthday Party?

Divergence from chapter 9 to 11, where instead of deciding to keep his distance just for now, Buck invites them all to Chris’s birthday party. The party becomes one of the most awkward parties to date, since the entirety of the 118 is filled with misunderstandings about what exactly is going on between Buck and Eddie and what they have been witnessing in the time before.

On ao3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: emotionally abusive parents, referenced addiction, ableism, referenced minor character death, homophobia

~~~

Bobby is sitting on Chimney’s couch with a soda in hand. Chimney doesn’t have any alcohol at his apartment anymore, since Hen and Buck basically forced Chimney to take Bobby in so that someone will keep an eye on him after… the incident.

Of course they say that it’s because Chimney should have someone looking out for him while he recovers and to help around the house, but Bobby knows better. Still, he’s not offended. It’s kind of nice that they all care so much about whether he of all people is okay.

He doesn’t understand how he can deserve these people that he surrounds himself with. How he keeps getting a second chance over and over again. It doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but God keeps giving it to him and who is he to spit on a sign from God?

So, he takes it. Selfishly he takes it. Selfishly he lets himself have a night like this, with Buck, Chimney and Hen surrounding him as they laugh. A night 148 people will never get to have ever again…

A lull falls in the midst of conversation, but before he can spiral, Buck suddenly takes a deep breath, getting everyone’s attention. He cautiously asks them: “Can I ask something of you guys and it not be a big deal? Or like weird?”

“That depends, Buckaroo, are you going to ask something weird?” Chimney shoots back, head lolling against the back of the couch so he faces Buck. “I mean, I’m not giving you a lap dance no matter how handsome and sexy I know I am.”

“Oh shove off,” Buck exclaims, but despite the blush there is an easy grin on his face now, feeling more comfortable with what he’s about to ask.

Bobby doesn’t know what question could make Buck nervous, he is practically shameless with the things he shares. He doesn’t think he’s met someone who shares as much as Buck. So trying to imagine what he can be nervous to share makes him a little anxious.

The feeling is clearly shared, because when Buck doesn’t say anything else for a moment, Hen gently prompts: “So what were you gonna ask?”

“Uhm, well, you see, I, uh- I was wondering if you guys would come to Chris’s birthday party?” he asks awkwardly, clearly bracing himself for their reactions.

It quickly clicks for Bobby that this is Buck letting them into something sensitive. He has never mentioned Chris before, but he is obviously important to Buck. Oh God, is Chris his boyfriend? Is this Buck coming out? Bobby can be normal about people coming out, but this is a big deal for Buck with the way he says it and Bobby isn’t always the best in making it the right amount of big deal. Will he mess this up?

However, before any of that spiral can get verbalized, Buck beats him to it, nervously spiraling himself: “I mean, you obviously don’t have to, but it would mean a lot, since we just moved here and while we’re going to hold a party with his friends, this one is kind of more family, adults, you know, but only Helena and Ramon are flying out and Abuela and tía Pepa live here, so there aren’t a lot of people and it’s kind of sad for a kid to turn seven without anyone in atten-”

“Wait,” Chimney cuts him off, “Chris is a kid?

Buck blinks for a moment, clearly surprised that that’s the question, before Wrealization hits him and he empathetically goes: “Yes. Yes! Uhm, yeah, Chris is a kid. He’s almost seven, wait hang on-” he digs around for his phone and pulls it out, showing them all a picture of a curly haired kid with thick glasses and a bright smile on his face. “Here! This is him,” Buck tells them proudly.

Internally Bobby has to do a whole 180 all over again. This is not Buck coming out, this is Buck fessing up to being a dad.

Oh my God, Buck is a dad! Bobby is even more out of his depth here. In fact, he can barely think over the repeating mantra: Buck is a dad. Buck is a dad. Buck is a dad.

Bobby barely feels deserving of his second chances on most days and this news causes his stomach to absolutely plummet. He sends Buck into danger every day. Buck stayed behind with him on that plane crash. He nearly died so many times over and Bobby never knew he would cause a boy to lose his dad if anything ever happened to Buck.

As a Captain he always, always, tries to ensure there are the least amount of casualties in his choices and the families of his firefighters weigh in on his choices. However, he made calls on the assumption Buck didn’t have the same kind of family that relied on him like, for example, Hen’s does. And he was wrong. Buck is a dad. He could have cost Chris his father.

In the background he can vaguely make out Chimney and Hen telling Buck that Chris is an adorable kid and of course they’d be there, but he can barely hear over the ringing in his ears.

Buck is a dad.

Bobby put Buck in danger.

He nearly robbed another child of their parent.

There are already so many lives he ruined, so many names he hasn’t rectified. And he almost put another name on the list. Almost broke up another family.

“Uh, Bobby?” Buck saying his name snaps him towards him, Buck’s face clearly anxious and nervous as he looks back: “Will- Will you come?” Then quicker he adds: “It’s totally okay if you don’t- I didn’t mean- You don’t have to. I just-”

“It’s okay,” Bobby cuts him off, he doesn’t want Buck to think he did something wrong by reaching out and opening up. Buck can use people, especially if he’s raising a kid, that’s not something to do in isolation. This is a good thing.

“Yeah?” Buck checks anyway, hopeful and vulnerable with his voice.

“Of course, yeah,” Bobby nods, swallowing all the emotions that come bubbling to the surface right now, as he says: “I’ll be there.”

“Great!” Instantly Buck’s face lights up with a smile. “We had planned to do it on February 24th, I asked that weekend off, but the party is on Saturday. But I’ll text you the address and time and stuff if that’s okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” Chimney smiles.

Bobby is glad that the attention is off him, though Hen gives him a sideway glance, before she also answers: “Yeah, that’s fine. Do you want me to bring Karen and Denny too? Denny is about Chris’s age.”

Buck’s face brightens at the suggestion, before it dims into something apologetic as he awkwardly says: “Uh, yeah, they’re- they’re welcome. Of course they are, just…”

Hen is now directing her look towards at Buck, clearly guarded. The whole room practically holds their breath as they wait for the end of that sentence. Depending on what Buck says, his future at the 118 can be very different. Despite how much Bobby has warmed up to the kid, the well being and safety of all his firefighters is the most important.

“Uhm, Helena and Ramon are kind of homophobic,” Buck tells her, looking a little miserable as he does. “They’re the only grandparents Chris has and they babysat a lot, so they’re close and no one really wants to take that from him, since his mom already walked out on him, so we all just… kind of put up with it? I know that sounds bad, but I’d thought I’d mention it. Like your family is more than welcome and I will tell them to shut up if they say anything, but I’d also get it if you don’t want to them in that situation, you know?”

It’s quiet for a moment as Buck fidgets, while everyone else tries to process.

Most had already gathered that since their newly twenty-six year old colleague was talking about his son turning seven, it probably hadn’t been a very planned pregnancy, which usually means a little messier custody. However, mom walking out… jikes, poor kid.

However, that doesn’t negate the homophobic parents, which are probably Buck’s. Him calling them by their full name isn’t a great sign about their relationship, not to mention him describing it as putting up with it for Chris’s sake. On the whole, they can understand him trying to fill the party with more people.

Still, all would also understand Hen bowing out with that knowledge. In the end, she says: “I think I’ll show up alone, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, that is more than fine, thank you,” Buck immediately assures her. Tentatively offering an apologetic olive branch, he suggests: “Maybe we can plan a play date some other day?”

Hen smiles reassuringly at him as she says: “Yeah, of course.”

Again there is a silence, none of them really sure where to go from here. None of them had really seen this one coming, since they had created quite a different life for Buck in their minds and now have to sit with the reconfigured reality.

Buck, meanwhile, just sits there watching them. He obviously isn’t sure if he should say more or if he should let them sit in silence for a moment.

Chimney is the one who puts them all out of their misery in the end, saying: “I’m gonna be really honest, Bucko, I am still going to need a minute. I know I promised not to be weird, but I feel like a lap dance would have been less weird right now.”

That cracks Buck up and he laughs: “I’ll keep that in mind, you dick.”

“Hey, I’m trying here,” Chimney also laughs. “You just dropped a big thing on us here. I mean, you’re a dad, congrats, bit late, I know, but still. Now come on, tell me more about this kid. Like, what are his interests?”

Bobby watches as some final stress melts off of Buck’s shoulders at the comment and he listens as he talks a bit more about Chris. A pained nostalgia washes over him as he observes Buck talking about Chris. It’s the same pain he feels when Hen or any of his other firefighters mention their children around him.

Brooke and Junior deserved to still be alive for his wife to talk about them like that. He shouldn’t be here anymore after all the damage he caused, but he is. And it’s now his duty to ensure as many people will continue to have it. It’s the least he can do, the bare minimum he should do.

However, that resolve to make himself useful does not take away the hurt and he is a little quieter for the rest of the evening as Buck talks about dinosaurs and little science experiments he and Chris used to do back when he worked construction in El Paso.

The night winds down pretty soon after with both Buck and Hen saying their goodbyes, telling Bobby they’ll see him next shift and telling Chimney they’ll see him later. Both manage a goodbye back, Chimney’s a little more enthusiastic than Bobby’s.

Once they’re gone, Bobby goes to clean up, pretty sure that they’ll go to bed soon. Chimney teases him for having an old man schedule, but his meds make him sleepy, so he’s kind of on Bobby’s old man schedule, so he can’t really say too much.

But when Chimney joins him to help, he doesn’t start mindlessly rambling about something or other as he often does, instead his voice is a little quieter than usual and he kindly asks: “You doing okay, Cap?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Bobby responds, not meeting Chimney’s eyes as he continues to do the dishes, wanting to be distracted from this conversation and his thoughts.

Unfortunately for Bobby, Chimney doesn’t take his word for it. “You sure? I mean, just asking, because you’ve been kinda quiet since Buck mentioned his kid. Wanted to check if you’re good.”

“I’m good,” Bobby says curtly, hoping to shut down the conversation. He knows he was quiet, it’s just a lot.

He needs to give this a place and he isn’t sure where that should be. He has barely thought about how he relates to his coworkers as tentative friends, he doesn’t know how to feel about Buck’s child and now he suddenly has to. He tries to ignore the fact that it wasn’t this hard for Denny and what that means.

“… Okay,” Chimney says, surprising Bobby with how he takes his shut down, though Bobby is also slightly annoyed by Chimney’s tone. Obviously, he doesn’t believe Bobby’s answer.

Bobby sends him a glare, his tone sharper than it had been as he says: “Buck recently nearly died to get my ass out of that plane, sorry that I need a moment to process I nearly orphaned a kid.”

Chimney’s eyes widen in surprise at Bobby’s outburst, before his face does that sympathetic softening thing that Bobby has been getting too much recently. “Cap- Bobby, that’s not your fault, you-”

“Stop,” Bobby cuts him off, he knows what Chimney is going to say, what he wants to convince Bobby off and he’s not in the mood. He doesn’t want to be coddled, he doesn’t want to be told it wasn’t his fault. Bobby knows better, he just has to figure out how to carry this guilt too.

Thankfully Chimney does stop, he closes his mouth with an audible click, nodding to himself twice, before saying: “Alright, I’ll stop. Just know it’s okay to feel what you feel. I’m sure Buck will understand it if a kid’s birthday party is a bit much, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bobby responds, not wanting to go into all of it. They complete the rest of the dishes and other clean up in silence.

Next shift, Bobby doesn’t know if Chimney said anything to Buck or if Buck just isn’t the kind of person that never shuts up about his kid, but either way, Buck continues on as normal, not really bringing up Chris until Bobby asks, smiling as Buck says: “Drop off went well. I usually don’t do as much of that with the shift schedule, you know, but the late start allowed it. I like it.”

“You like drop off?” Hen joins their conversation. “All those cars and the busy rush about it.” she shudders, “Ugh.”

“I don’t know, it’s nice,” Buck shrugs. “We do car karaoke and loudly scream jam songs. It’s fun to scream along to kid’s bops.”

“Of course you do,” Hen laughs and that is kind of the end of that conversation.

Bobby is a somewhat glad about it. He wants to support Buck and show him he’s there for him. However, the thought of being bombarded with stories of a kid 24/7, isn’t his preferred way to spend his time. It always makes him miss his kids. His kids, who didn’t get to grow up.

Still, despite his relief, he is a little surprised by how much of a closed a book Buck is. In a way, he did think that it was more likely Chimney said something, but when it lasts, he starts to think it’s just Buck’s personality.

It’s a little weird to realize Buck selectively shares and there is something that keeps him from talking about his son. At some point, he mentions it to Hen, who speculates it might because he was a teen parent. With the judgment that brings, he probably trained himself out of speaking too much about Chris. He decides not to go prodding further after that.

Still, the Wilsons take Chris with them to the zoo and the two kind of get along. Probably can become friends if they hang out more often, but still a little awkward around each other. Buck had been really grateful to Hen about it, since Eddie – his best friend as Buck calls him – had to go to a bunch of check ups for his shoulder that day and Buck was going with him to be his second pair of ears.

He also mentions Chris a little when he and Hen are planning Chimney’s welcome back party. As it turns out, this is the first time he’s thrown a kid’s birthday party and he asks her pointers. Bobby walks away from that conversation as fast as he can.

Overall though, life continues as normal. Chimney gets better, Bobby goes back to his own apartment, work talk kind of stays the same, the welcome back party is a success as well as the kid’s party that Buck threw, and they all survive the full moon.

They’ve all gotten a text, however, their own attendance to Chris’s party isn’t really discussed until they’re done with their shift on the Friday before it all goes down.

If Bobby is honest, he is considering skipping out on it. It’s not that he has anything against Buck or Chris for that matter, but… Chimney was right, a kid’s birthday party is a lot. So, he’s watching Buck fuss with his hair and a nice outfit on, trying to convince himself Buck will be fine if he canceled. That he’d get it.

However, he is not the only one watching Buck fuss. He always dresses nice enough after shift, but it’s usually a little less formal and his hair styling routine is a way shorter. Which means everyone is watching with differing levels of amusement and interest.

It’s Hen who says something first, saying: “You look fine, Buck. You don’t have to keep fussing, honestly.”

“Yeah, are you scared to not be the most handsome at the airport? It’s the airport,” Chimney adds. “I am sure you’ll be fine.”

Buck gives him a side-eye and tells him: “You try being the blight on Helena’s world and we’ll talk again.” He checks his watch, “But I do have to go now. Don’t want to be late!” As he hurries out of the room, he throws over his shoulder: “Wish me luck! See you guys tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone, leaving them all blinking at where he’d just been. After a beat, Chimney breaks the silence: “Did he just call himself a blight on Helena’s world?”

“Yeah,” Hen says empathetically. “What the hell.”

“Jikes,” Chimney agrees. “Isn’t that his mom? And I thought I had a bad relationship with my dad, but that is worse, I think.”

“I think tomorrow is going to be interesting,” Hen grimaces in sympathy to the empty spot.

Internally Bobby agrees. He had already guessed that Buck’s relationship with his parents was strained, due to him calling them by their first names and the way he described how their visit would be to Hen. However, that is indeed a step further than expected.

For Pete’s sake, now Bobby has to go. Buck is clearly not super keen on sharing his life with them, but he invited them to that birthday party anyway. Buck wants back up. He reached out and asked for them to support him. He asked Bobby to support him. He can’t leave him hanging.

So, Bobby also says his goodbye and spends the night mentally preparing himself.

He’d gotten a small gift for Chris, half planning to give it to Buck on Monday, so he could give it to Chris for him, while he stayed away from the actual party by citing food poison or something. That plan is now gone and he spends the night carefully wrapping the firetruck with skills he hadn’t dusted off in years, trying not to cry.

When he arrives the next day, he arrives to find Hen’s car already parked in the street. However, when he passes it, he finds Hen and Chimney still in said car.

Surprised he pauses, knocking on the window and scaring the shit out of Chimney, before he rolls it down and sheepishly goes: “Uh, hey, Cap, what are you doing here?”

“You know what I’m doing here, Chim,” Bobby deadpans. “Why are you two sitting in a parked car instead of being inside?”

“Well…” Chimney starts, before trailing off. Going of the helpless look he sends Hen. It’s obvious he hadn’t really come up with an excuse before he started talking.

Hen rolls her eyes, then says: “Chimney got nervous and didn’t want to go and I didn’t want to be the first one there alone.”

“Hey!”

“Chim, why are you nervous?” Bobby asks, raising a pointed brow at Chim, which is honestly highly hypocritical of him, since he’s also nervous.

“I’m not nervous,” Chimney sulks, crossing his arms. Both Bobby and Hen just stare at him for a moment, after which he throws up his hands and says: “Fine! I’m a little nervous. Like these people manage to dislike Buck. How do you dislike Buck? And I am far less likable then him and I make jokes when I feel uncomfortable. This can only end terribly!”

Bobby can understand that, but he also isn’t going in there alone, so he puts on his best Captain face and says: “Chim, Buck needs us as back up. He asked. We’re not leaving him behind.”

“Ugh, I hate it when you’re reasonable,” Chimney groans as he throws open the car door, Hen following suit.

The three of them knock on the door of a modest, but nice bungalow house. They check about ten times if it’s the right place, but finally decide it must be. Despite already being aware that Buck is not the frat boy they thought him to be, the house is not what they expected of him.

It’s Buck that opens the door, giving them all a big grin, though they can see the exhaustion pulling at his eyes and the slightly forced natured of the smile. “Hey, so glad you could make it! We’re about to open gifts, so you’re right on time. Any longer and it would have become an explosion.”

That last part is clearly meant to be a joke, but the delivery is a bit too truthful, so it doesn’t really land. Chimney with his badly timed comments goes: “Well, that would suck. Can’t have a party without us. Or an explosion.”

However, Buck just takes it gratefully: “Exactly. Now come in, come in.” He ushers them into a neatly decorated and cleaned up house.

In the living room are six other people. Naturally, there is Chris, sitting excitedly next to the gifts that are on the coffee table. Next to him there are three women and two men. Since one of the women is older, they assume her to be Abuela, while the one sitting next to the older man is probably Helena, making the man Ramon and the other woman Pepa. That leaves Eddie as being the younger man.

All of them stand there in the front hall a little awkwardly, however, Eddie comes forward, confirming that he is Eddie as he holds out his hand as he goes: “Hello, it’s good to meet you all. I’m Eddie, you must be Buck’s coworkers. He speaks highly of you, it’s nice to meet you guys.”

As they shake his hand, they see Helena scoff in the background, but can’t hear what she muttered in the clammer of voices greeting each other. However, the introduction also snaps Buck into action, saying: “You guys take a seat and I’ll grab everyone something to drink, just coffee for now?”

They nod and take their places also shaking the hands of everyone there and confirming that their guesses had been correct. The gifts go on the coffee table and they sit together, looking around slightly.

There are pictures on the mantle, but Bobby doesn’t want to stare, so he mostly just looks over the book cases and homely, lived in feeling. It’s so unlike his own apartment. It is so obvious that a family lives here, that a kid lives here. It aches.

Chris excitedly asks: “Are we opening presents now, daddy?”

Bobby waits for Buck to call out an answer from the kitchen where he is pouring the coffee. Instead they are all taken by surprise as Helena starts to answer an affirmative, before Eddie loudly speaks over her, saying: “Not yet, mijo, we’re waiting for papi. Just a few more seconds, yeah?”

What the Hell.

Multiple pieces of information start to click together in Bobby’s brain in that split second after Eddie talks, making him want to kick himself for never realizing before.

The way Buck was nervous to fess up, the way he never talked more about his family despite usually being a sharer, the way he talked about Helena and Ramon, the way he isn’t Hispanic but his family apparently was, the way Eddie helped with childcare. Him and Eddie are married. Or at the very least together.

Now that he knows, he instantly spots a picture of the two of them on the mantle with suits on, Chris in the middle, the background the inside of an official looking building. Definitely married. God, he can’t believe he missed- that they all missed it, he amends, seeing Chimney and Hen share a look, before neutralizing their faces.

Did Buck forget that Bobby nearly fired him for sleeping with women on the job? Or does he not care that they all know that? Does Eddie know about it? Should they say something now? Or is this a talk about it with him at work sort of deal, before throwing it out there now during their son’s birthday party?

Buck is oblivious to their revelations, coming back with the tea and coffee. After handing it to them, he falls onto the couch next to Pepa as he says: “You can start opening your gifts now, Superman. Remember to say thanks.”

Chris lights up in a way that would have Bobby claim Buck’s parentage, if the whole thing hadn’t just been called into question, as Chris tears into a first gift. He thanks Buck and Eddie so they assume it’s from them.

It’s open before Helena can reach him, which clearly surprises her. Bobby watches her whip her eyes over to Buck, who gives her an unpleasantly pleasant smile that Bobby has never seen on his face, nor ever would expected to see there.

Buck is suddenly like a stranger to him and he regrets ever showing up to begin with.

However, Chris is smiling, looking ecstatic at the gift and telling both Buck and Eddie this is the best thing ever. He looks so happy and Bobby can’t bear to be the one to bring it up. To ruin this day for him. To potentially break up a family. He doesn’t want to ruin a family. He’ll bring it up at work come Monday, hoping Chimney and Hen decide to do the same.

Almost as if God is messing with him, another curve ball gets thrown their way. While most people also smile at Chris, glad the boy is happy, Helena frowns: “That’s not right for him. Why would you give him something he can’t play with?”

Buck takes a deep breath, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie, however, sighs: “Mom, Chris can play with this. He has more Lego.”

“The pieces are so small,” Helena protests.

“It’s Lego,” Eddie says, annoyance in his voice.

Chris’s little brow starts to furrow too, looking between the two, clearly getting upset. “I showed you my tower, grandma. I built that all myself, I told you that.”

“I know, sweetheart, it was a great tower,” Helena tells him, almost condescending with the way she cards a hand through his hair. It’s enough for her to let that part go, however, it’s not enough for her to stop herself from pointedly saying: “Here, this one is from me and abuelo. It’s a better suited gift for you, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

Bobby can see Buck roll his eyes and share a look with Eddie at that, but neither says anything, so none of the 118 does either. It seems like Buck at least wasn’t lying about how they all just kind of deal with what he has now gathered to be Eddie’s parents. A part of him wonders why there is no one from Buck’s side there, another part of him doesn’t want to think about it.

She helps Chris open the gift, doing most of the unwrapping for him, even when he frowns. And the gift is something that Chris seems to be a bit too old for, though he thanks her politely.

It’s a song and dance she seems keen to repeat with every present, even if Chris grows more annoyed with her. Buck gives Eddie a look, who gives a look back, before Buck rolls his eyes, while the rest of the guests just sit there awkwardly.

At some point, Buck starts telling her not to do that, but she doesn’t listen to him, huffing: “I am just helping, Evan. He can’t do it alone.”

“Then just unwrap a little, let him do the rest,” Buck sighs.

“I am,” Helena protests.

“Mom,” Eddie says, nothing else, just that.

“Fine,” Helena replies a little too sharp to mean it as she puts her hands up in the air as if she is surrendering. Bobby isn’t sure he believes her and going of the looks he gets from Hen and Chimney, they don’t either.

They are proven right when she listens for one present only to start up again, tsking that the contents are too mature. It’s the firetruck Bobby got him, he pretends it doesn’t hurt.

When Chris starts leaning away from her, trying to do it himself and getting more frustrated, Eddie goes and sits behind her, grabbing her hands, so she can’t intervene again. Buck gets up with him, seamlessly sweeping Chris onto his lap on the other side to distract it from it all and putting him on his lap, only undoing a few tapes, while letting Chris rip the rest of the wrapping paper, much to his delight.

Helena is clearly displeased with it all, but Eddie keeps firm. Again, the 118 has to share a look with each other at the scene. No one else is commenting on it. This appears to be the normal.

Bobby still isn’t sure about what Buck has been doing and how he feels about it all, but a part of him feels pity. If this is Buck’s normal in his domestic life, he can get wanting to escape. Hell, Bobby’s domestic life had been great and he still craved an escape. Buck had called sex an addiction on that rooftop when Bobby caught him, he hadn’t taken it seriously then, too pissed off at everything, but now he wonders if he should have.

The rest of the gifts go relatively peaceful all things considered until the final one, which is also from Buck and Eddie. It’s some sort of adventure game for the gaming console they have. From what Bobby can see, it’s appropriate for Chris’s age and something he was clearly thrilled to get. Helena is not as impressed.

“Really, Edmundo?” she tuts. “This is far too aggressive for someone like Chris and kids his age shouldn’t play video games. What were you thinking getting him this?”

“Mom, he played it at his friends’ houses, he knows he likes it,” Eddie replies, his voice sounding as if he’s repeating a well worn argument. “We’re letting him have a bit more screen time, responsibly. We did think about it.”

“You let him have friends that play this stuff?” Helena shoots back, offended.

“Yes,” Eddie says, clearly getting frustrated. “We let Chris have friends, who do age appropriate stuff with him. It’s a game, not the end of the world. And it’s better than the play-set you got him. He’s too old for that sort of stuff now, he’s seven not three.”

“Do not take that tone with me. You’ve always been irresponsible with Chris’s limitations, especially since you brought him into your life,” Helena practically spits at him, glaring at Buck too.

Chris is starting to get upset at them arguing about it, but before Buck can step in – as seems to be his role most of the time – Pepa does it instead, sighing: “Really, Helena, are you going to fight over the boy’s presents? It’s his birthday.”

That thankfully shuts both of them up. Bobby doesn’t know how much more of that he could have taken. He is already planning on making a strategic exit after cake, because this is getting uncomfortable… well, it never was comfortable, but you get the point.

However, plans have to wait, since they all have to suffer through the cake first. It’s a homemade cake and Hen comments: “This is nice. Did you make it?”

“I did,” Buck smiles. “Thank you.”

The small moment of okay-ness is ruined by Ramon, who comments under his breath: “Of course he made it,” in a tone that clearly states how he feels about that, which is negatively.

It’s not the first of the homophobic comments that have come from them and it’s not the first time Bobby made the connection. However, he still can’t imagine how Buck puts up to it. Can see how he tries not to let it bother him, even though it does. Wonders why Eddie stays quiet. Why none of them say anything.

He looks over to Hen, trying to see if she will say something or let it pass, pretend not to hear it as they all seem to plan on doing. Because he does, he sees her send Buck a look, who bites his lip, before sending her a pleading look and shaking his head no. Hen looks displeased by it, but says nothing about it. Bobby follows her lead.

With cake, it all becomes a little more casual. Abuela goes to talk with Ramon about how he is been, showing all of the other guests she is his mother, since she tells him he doesn’t call enough.

It allows the 118 to move a little and they all make a retreat to the table to eat their cake there. They can’t really talk about everyone with them right there, but the distance – however small it might be – helps a little. Even if they’re stuck making awkward small talk, since none of them seem to know what else to do.

Chimney was right about being apprehensive to be here. Bobby is counting down the seconds until it’s no longer impolite to go.

After talking with Pepa for a while, Eddie joins them at the table, stilling the conversation even though it wasn’t about him. Eddie must notice it, but pretends not to, smiling at them as he says: “Thank you all for coming. Buck tells me great things, so it’s nice to meet you all.”

If he meant to break the tension, he is failing. But he can’t help it, since he doesn’t know they’ve all watched his husband flirt and fuck through a whole slew of women. That tends to make one awkward around a person.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Hen says, deciding to be their spokesperson, which Bobby is grateful for in these circumstances. “I would say the same, but Buck hasn’t really mentioned you before all this,” she half gestures at the home they’re in.

“Oh,” Eddie looks surprised and a little hurt for a moment, but he swallows it down. “I mean, I get that, it’s a bit of an odd situation,” he forces out lightly.

An odd situation, Bobby thinks to himself, what’s so odd about this? Sure, it’s a little weird that Eddie’s parents seem to actively dislike both Buck and Eddie, but there is clearly a lot of homophobia there, which sadly isn’t too odd. The only weird thing is Buck’s apparent double life that he has made all of them complicit in, but Eddie doesn’t know that. Does he?

Hen seems to think the same thing, frowning: “Well, it’s not the most odd thing ever. Why’d you think that?”

Again, Eddie seems surprised, but now his smile is more genuine. “I guess most people tend to say that. I mean, not everyone would raise a child they had with their ex with the ex of said ex.”

Huh, another thing Buck hadn’t told them. But Chris was Eddie’s then, but the person he’d had Chris with was not in the picture and instead Buck had switched from dating them to marrying Eddie. Bobby isn’t sure if he should seek a cheating pattern there too or if he’s reading too much into it because of everything that has happened to get them there.

He also doesn’t really know how to respond to that, but fortunately they have Hen, who says: “I mean, I’m raising my ex’s kid with my wife, so maybe my perception is just warped.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie huffs out a laugh, breaking the tension on the table at least.

“So, what do you do?” Chimney asks.

“Currently nothing, but I’m looking to join the fire academy next rounds, doctors finally cleared me. I actually wanted to ask you guys a bit about the paramedic work if that’s okay? I was an army medic before this,” Eddie replies.

Work is a safe topic and good enough to get through cake with, so Hen and Chimney take it gratefully and tell Eddie all he wants to know.

Bobby is content to sit their quietly and just observe. Buck is still sitting on the couch, closely watching Helena, he is mostly silent, just watching. Pepa, Ramon and Abuela are on the other couch chatting.

He feels a little like Buck is on the outside, looking in. Like he wants to pull Helena away from Chris, but can’t. The observation tightens something in Bobby’s chest, but he’s not sure what.

It- It’s not comfortable. He still doesn’t think that what Buck is doing here is great, sleeping around while playing house here, throwing cold comments at Helena and fueling the dislike there appears to be between her and Buck as well Eddie. Doesn’t like that he has made all of them complicit in that as if he had known they wouldn’t ruin Chris’s party by bringing it up.

But then there is this… This barrier that is there. Bobby can’t deny that Helena started the hostilities and that Buck gets the brunt of it, seemingly always having to pull on Eddie to step up, which he only does when it’s about Chris. How relieved he was that they all came, how he asked them all, asked for that back up, despite knowing what he’d pull them into, because he was so desperate for someone to be there. Almost as if he needed someone on his side, someone to take away that barrier.

Without really thinking about it, he finds himself suddenly interrupting the conversation that’s happening at the table, as he asks: “Where is Buck’s side of the family?”

Eddie pauses his sentence halfway through, just staring at Bobby for a few beats, before he looks away. Then he looks back, eyes sad but protective as he answers: “Not here. Pennsylvania.”

“Why?”

At Bobby’s question, Eddie’s jaw twitches and he frowns at him, almost assessing, like he is trying to find what Bobby’s intentions are, before he’ll answer. Bobby doesn’t know what he finds when Eddie glances at Buck, then back at Bobby.

However, he answers curtly: “He sends letters to his sister, but she stopped responding. She loves him though, just can’t right now. But he hasn’t spoken to his parents since he was eighteen or nineteen. It wasn’t a good relationship and they didn’t deserve him.”

There is a clear warning in his voice and Bobby can see the hardness the army must have given Eddie in his eyes when he looks at Bobby, practically staring him down.

Hen and Chimney look between the two like it’s a tennis match, not burning their hands on it as they let it all play out.

Bobby knows something about shitty parents, mostly his dad, even though he didn’t realize it when he was a kid. His heart constricts for Buck as he glances over to him again, sitting on that couch, that barrier surrounding him. He wonders how he came to be so lonely, even in this house filled with people.

He looks back at Eddie and says: “That’s terrible. At least he has people here now,” he adds, unsure if it is true, but needing a test of his own when Eddie threw his at Bobby’s.

Eddie blinks, before he smiles. Bobby passed his test, just like Eddie passed his. That is a smile of someone, who is relieved for someone he loves to not be alone. That someone else sees how great his loved one is. Bobby suspects that the barrier around Buck is primarily because of Helena and Ramon, who have created this tension in this house that otherwise would have looked like a comforting home were it not for the atmosphere.

“Yeah, thank you for that,” Eddie says after a moment. “He’s been better since he started working with you all. Better since he started working as a firefighter in general, he really loves that job. I mean, I’m sure he would have continued to work construction for Chris if he had to, the man would lay his life down for him. But I’m glad he found something he loves.”

The way Eddie says it sounds melancholic, as if he feels a guilt for the possibility of Buck having continued to work a job he likes less for the sake of their family, as well as a sadness, as if he is letting Buck go.

Bobby looks between Buck and Eddie again, this time with a different lens. The same barrier he had seen with Buck is also hanging around Eddie, that same distance. He almost feels like he isn’t at a party, but a funeral, like they are all here mourning a family that still exists.

However, he seems to be the only person that notices that. Chimney takes the opportunity to steer the conversation with Eddie back to work and he watches as Abuela makes a come here motion to Buck, snapping him out his staring match with the back of Helena’s head and pulling him into the conversation happening on the couch. Ramon only looks a little displeased.

Just when there is a lull and the cake is gone – the perfect opportunity to make their excuses and leave – the birthday boy abandons his grandma and gifts to come over to the table where the 118 is sitting, ruining that chance.

In his hand, there is the firetruck that Bobby got for him. When he unwrapped the gift, he’d thanked Bobby, but the moment was mostly overshadowed by the argument about helping with unwrapping the gifts, something Bobby had secretly been a little glad about.

However, now here he is, looking up at Bobby and holding the firetruck. Curiously he asks: “You are papi’s Captain, right? The one with nice food?”

As Chris looks at him, Bobby remembers the leftovers he’d seen Buck take, how he assumed they were because he didn’t want to cook in a frat house, but here, sitting at a nice kitchen table in a nice house with a perfectly nice kitchen right there, Bobby is confronted with the fact that Buck took his food to share with Chris.

The thought shouldn’t make him want to cry, so he swallows it all down and prays to God for strength as he manages a smile. “Yeah, that’s me. You can call me Bobby.”

“Hi, Bobby, thank you for the food,” Chris smiles, the he trusts out the firetruck to him. “Papi says you put the hoses away with loops on them, but this one doesn’t have them.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bobby agrees, trying to blink away the image of Junior when he’d been Chris’s age, or Brooke’s when she had died, only two years older than Chris is now. Kids have been difficult for him since the fire, but here, he wants to try. It’s easier with Chris than with other kids somehow. So, he says: “It’s something we do at my firehouse, because I think it’s best, but it’s not standard. You know why I think that, kiddo?”

He holds his breath, hoping Chris didn’t notice the brief second he needed to get himself together and is relieved when Chris just gets an excited look on his face as he says: “Papi says it’s because it makes you faster and the faster you are the more people you can save.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Good job,” Bobby says, ignoring the shake-y tone in his voice. He will never stop wondering if a little more speed could have saved his own family, if he would have his kids here with him now instead, asking questions about his work.

“Thank you,” Chris says again, this time referring in to the compliment he got. Then he launches into more questions about the firetruck as well as being a firefighter in general, throwing in fun facts that Buck had told him.

The more Chris talks, the easier it gets somehow.

Usually, Bobby avoids kids for too long, hurrying them along as fast as he can. It hurts too much, they all turn into Brooke or Junior and he can never shake it. It’s different with Chris. Probably because he is a lot like his father, like Buck. Bobby sees Buck in Chris when he shares what he knows and asks questions, in his excitement and in his smile. It helps.

Chris to Bobby becomes Buck’s son, not his own. It creates a distance between him and the ghosts of his own kids that haunts him. It’s new, but something Bobby likes.

Helena and Ramon don’t seem to like it much, but they don’t seem to like any of the guests Buck invited much, preferring not to interact with them while Pepa and Abuela mingle more and make small talk with the 118.

Bobby still isn’t sure about everything that is going on in the Buckley-Diaz family, but Chris isn’t involved in that. Bobby likes Chris. He hopes that even if things go down with this weird tension and the revelations of Buck’s cheating that they’ll confront him with come Monday, Buck will bring Chris by the firehouse sometime; Bobby gives great tours.

Talking with Chris is the reason he stays later, pulling in Hen and Chimney as well, since Chris is thrilled they know all the things about the ambulances that Buck doesn’t. It’s a little funny and endearing to hear Chris spout facts that they can remember Buck coming up to ask them about, in hindsight clearly on a mission to get his kid the answers he wanted.

It’s a little confusing too. This whole thing has been. Buck clearly adores Chris and they can see him bump into Eddie comfortingly whenever Ramon makes a comment or they hear Helena say something to Chris that both decide to let slide. He laughs when talking to Pepa and Abuela. He is comfortable in this home.

He has all these quirks that make him look like he loves this family, this sadness in him when there is a distance. Yet he is also the one cheating. The one who is breaking it all apart should it come out and to a head.

Bobby doesn’t understand it and he both can’t wait and dreads Monday when they can confront Buck about it all.

In the end, they do make their excuses before dinner, having seen enough of it all to not want to sit through a dinner with everyone there. Either Buck made it and he’ll get comments about it not being manly, or someone else does and both Buck and Eddie will get comments for not being able to provide it. They’ve bitten their tongues enough for Buck’s and Chris’s sake.

So, they say their goodbyes, leave the house, walk down to where Hen’s car is and then just stand there for a moment.

After a beat, Chimney says: “So… that sure was a party.”

“I know right, like, oh my god, what was that?” Hen exclaims, grateful that someone else gave the all clear to gossip about what they just went through.

“I don’t know!” Chimney half yells, throwing his hand up in disbelief. “Like did I hallucinate Buck sleeping around? Where did he pull a husband from?”

Hen pulls a face and says: “I have no clue.”

“Well, I’m sure Buck can give us answers on Monday,” Bobby says. It’s not like he disagrees with either of them, but that edge of sadness he witnessed, prevents him from joining in on the speculation or encouraging it.

“Come on, Cap, you can’t be this cool under all that,” Chimney whines. “I saw your face, you were judgy too.”

Bobby can’t really deny that, but as neutral as he can, he says: “I was a bit taken aback, sure, and not too pleased with getting caught off guard with it. But I’m going to wait until we know more before confronting Buck about it. It’s not as if it looked very friendly in there. We came as back up and we were there as back up, that’s what matters now.”

That quietens them both for a moment.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hen says, swallowing with an expression on her face Bobby can’t place properly. “Buck might have had his reasons. I can’t imagine what an average day with all those people is like for him.”

Chimney glances at her, then drops the topic too. “I know right, what was up with that. I mean, I know Buck kind of let us know they didn’t like him, but that is rough. When he said they just kind of put up with the homophobia, I thought he meant in general, not very pointedly directed at them.”

With everything else that was going on, they’ve barely had time to process that Buck is also married to a man, thus some flavor of queer. That is at least something Bobby has practice with even if it’s sometimes a little stilted, it’s the whole rest of this situation that is going to be more of a minefield when Monday comes.

Hen nods her agreement. “It sucked ass. If Buck hadn’t asked us not to, I would have ended up swinging at either Helena or Ramon at some point. I’m glad Buck warned me and I didn’t have to expose Denny to that sort of stuff. I just hope Chris doesn’t pick that shit up.”

Bobby hadn’t even thought of that. It seems like Buck and Eddie are good fathers, who try to shut it down when it’s about Chris, but a lot of shit doesn’t get argued against. He doesn’t know if either realize what message it sends when they let it slide.

“Uh-huh,” Chimney nods. Then sighs and rubs his face, before he groans: “Not sure if I dread Monday or want it to be Monday.”

“You can say that again,” Hen says, unlocking her car.

“Maybe it won’t be that bad,” Bobby says, not believing it, but feeling the need to say it. There was something driving Buck’s behavior, but that didn’t make it any better and all of them know it. Hen and Chimney certainly know it too, which they let him know with two matching looks. He amends: “Or I am wrong and it’s going to suck. Either way, we won’t know until Monday and we’ll let Buck explain first.”

“Okay, but I will still give him a side eye when he does,” Chimney informs him, then opens the car door. “See you tomorrow, Cap.”

“Alright,” Bobby smiles, unable to help it. “See you then.”

“Bye, Cap.” Hen also gets in the car.

“Goodbye,” Bobby tells her, giving the two of them a wave through the window, before making his way to his own car and driving off.

The next day, all of them are quiet about it for the first half of the shift. Then, during a lull around lunch, Chimney, who is lying upside down on the couch, suddenly says: “So how do we think that whole situation happened. I mean, the whole raising the kid with your ex with the ex of your ex thing, you know. That was also new.”

Hen, who is lounging on the other couch, stops reading her book, looking over to Chimney, before she says: “I don’t know. Maybe they met through the ex? Buck mentioned the mom walking out on Chris, so maybe she’s just not in the picture anymore. I mean, she wasn’t at the party. The two of them could have know each other through her, then stayed in contact after because of Chris and one thing let to another?”

“Do you think it was an affair?” Chimney asks. “Like we know Buck is capable of it.”

“Hm,” Hen pauses for a moment, thinking about, then shakes her head: “Nah, I don’t think so. They probably wouldn’t have Chris if it was.”

Sitting up, Chimney gasps: “Do you think the ex is dead?”

“Chim!” Hen scolds for suggesting, before considering it. “I don’t think he would have been so blasé over it if the ex is dead. He said walked out, not died.”

“Okay, that is enough of that,” Bobby interrupts the two. “No speculating on coworkers.”

“But Bobby, speculating is half the fun,” Chimney whines. “Don’t you wanna make a wager about what is going on? I mean, there are so many possibilities. What would you put you money on?”

“I’m not falling for that one,” Bobby tells him with a look.

“Killjoy,” Chimney pouts, before completely disregarding what Bobby just said. “I think it was a one night stand kind of deal that resulted in Chris and Buck and whoever Eddie conceived Chris with broke up right around when Chris was born and started dating Eddie, who’d been in picture because of the pregnancy. They gave up parental rights and Buck stepped up.”

“Could be, but I think it was like those weirdly close high school clicks and this broke them up in camps until it ended up with Buck and Eddie taking Chris,” Hen speculates.

Bobby shakes his head and turns on his heel, saying: “I am not participating in this.”

“Boo,” they call at his head playfully as he retreats and he leaves them to their fun. It’s been a rough time for everyone, if this gets them through this shift, then he’ll just keep his distance about it. He truly doesn’t want to be a part of it.

It’s not that Bobby isn’t curious, he really really is. However, he doesn’t like thinking about it. He can’t shake that uncomfortable feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks of Buck on that couch, sending Helena that plastic smile. The way Bobby couldn’t recognize this kid he’d thought he knew so well.

The whole thing is disconcerting and he doesn’t like it. So he tries not to think about it and prays that Monday will come with a better explanation, one that will give him back this kid with his heart in the right place he has become too attached to, instead of leaving him with that stranger.

Therefore, instead of participating in speculation, he makes sure they have a nice dinner and checks the inventory unnecessarily.

It’s a good enough strategy that carries him through this shift with only catching minimal whiffs of what Hen and Chimney are saying. Still, he is grateful that the shift is behind him, since now he only has to lay awake for one more night before he’ll get answers.

Chimney offers him his couch for the night again, something he still does with regularity even though Bobby has been home for a while already. Bobby declines. He appreciates it, but he doesn’t think being stuck with a curious Chimney will help. What happened isn’t enough to drive him to drink again, maybe after tomorrow.

Monday arrives and by unspoken agreement, all of them are early and loitering around the locker room waiting for Buck to arrive.

Buck does arrive on time, looking a little more run down than he’d been when they last saw him, but he lights up when he sees them all. “Hey, you guys,” he greets them, throwing his bag down and getting changed as he talks. “Thanks for coming Saturday. Chris really enjoyed the company, so I appreciate you for sticking it out.”

When no one says anything, he pops his head out of the top of his shirt with a confused expression. “What?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

The three of them exchange glances, none of them sure how to broach the topic now that the moment to do so is here.

Apprehension fills Buck’s expression when he sees that and he starts rambling: “Did they say something shitty to you? Fuck, they totally did, didn’t they? I promise I would have said something if I had heard, I truly thought I’d kept them in my periphery enough throughout the whole thing, but some things must have slipped by me, I’m so sorry. I-”

“Buck,” Hen cuts him off when it is clear that Buck can not come up with what the looks are about on his own and doesn’t appear to be able to stop himself from talking. “They didn’t say anything.”

“Oh,” Buck falters, then frowns. “What were those glances about then? Because if it’s about the general vibe, I’m sorry, but-”

“Of course it’s not about the vibe, Buckley,” Chimney exclaims. “Well, it is kind of, I guess, but it’s about Eddie.”

“Eddie?” Buck’s frown deepens. “What did Eddie do?”

Both Hen and Chimney give him a look that says ‘are you stupid’ and Bobby decides it would be best to interfere, before either of them blurted out that question. “Eddie didn’t do anything,” he assures him. “We were more surprised by his existence.”

“I’ve mentioned Eddie before, haven’t I?” Buck wonders. “I would have sworn I had. He’s my best friend, I think I’m incapable of not mentioning him. Are you sure?”

“No, you mentioned him,” Bobby says, tone cautious. He also doesn’t understand how Buck can be this oblivious. “You just never expanded that your relationship was more than best friends and given your history on the job, that was a bit uncomfortable.”

“Huh?” Buck squints, then the realization hits him and he gapes: “Oh… Oh.” Frantically, he says: “Oh no! No, no, that’s- that is not what that looked like.”

“How is that not what it looked like?” Chimney exclaims.

“Me and Eddie are platonically married. Convenience. An open marriage type deal, so no cheating here, I swear. Eddie’s straight,” Buck practically yells, half tripping over his words as he quickly tries to convey the situation to explain himself.

It’s quiet for a beat as they process. Bobby finds some relief, even if he doesn’t understand all of what Buck has just said, he does get the general gist of it. And the general gist is that it was a misunderstanding and Buck is still their Buck.

“Do- Do Eddie’s parents know that?” Hen asks hesitantly after a moment, which is a fair question after all they’ve seen.

“Uh, yeah, they do,” Buck says embarrassed as he rubs the back of his head. “They’re just really against it all in general. I know they’re shitty about it, but I’ve kind of given up on picking fights with them about it.”

“And what about Chris hearing all that go un-protested?” Hen points out, her look at Buck a little more harsh than it would otherwise be.

Guilt flashes over Buck’s features, but he doesn’t just roll over, instead saying: “We’re not raising Chris to be a homophobe, Hen. I promise. I was the town queer that corrupted an innocent family when I first married Eddie and he went off to war, after the third time getting something spat at you in a grocery store, you have a conversation with the kid.”

“Oh,” Hen blinks, slightly taken aback by the frank answer. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Buck. That’s not okay.”

“I know,” Buck gives her a kind smile. “But it’s in the past now anyway. We try to teach Chris to know better, but when Ramon and Helena are around, we have to put our focus somewhere and then Chris will automatically be the priority.”

The more Buck talks, the more Bobby knows him again and it’s a comforting thought. That is still the same kid he knows. The kid that always makes sure the children on calls they take are okay, who has a big heart and empathy.

… The kid, who has no one from his side of the family that’s in his life. The kid, who seemed so lonely even in the midst of what should be a happy occasion.

He gets snapped out of his thoughts by Chimney, who decisively and loudly goes: “Well, they’re fucking shitty. No offense.”

Buck barks out a laugh at that, going to wiggle into his pants as he says: “None taken. It’s not like you’re wrong. Honestly, if it were up to me, we wouldn’t have invited them at all and kicked them out yesterday, but you know, Eddie’s family, so Eddie’s decision.”

“Wait, I thought they were going home on Sunday?” Hen frowns.

“So did we, but no, they’ve invited themselves for the entire week,” Buck answers, doing a little hop, before doing up his zipper and button. “Eddie’s taking them out for lunch today. I half don’t even want to know what kind of conversation they’ll have, there is too much they’re against at this point.”

“That sounds encouraging,” Chimney says sarcastically as they watch Buck put on his shoes.

Buck makes a vague gesture with his hand that Bobby interprets as waving the comment off. “It’s honestly not so bad right now.”

“How is it not so bad right now?” Hen asks concerned.

Surprised at the tone, Buck looks up from his laces, then blinks a few times. He blushes a little and looks away, hunching in on himself.

They all watch as he becomes smaller and Hen sends a look to Bobby, who gesture at her to continue on. With this topic, she’s better suited to have this conversation with Buck. Gently, Hen says: “Hey, you don’t have to tell us. I’m sorry. For prodding. But we’re here if you want to share.”

At that Buck looks up again, giving her a small smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry too. I don’t mean to be all weird about it. It’s stupid anyway.”

“It’s not stupid.” Bobby is pretty sure he surprises everyone, including himself, when he says that, since they all turn to look at him. He feels a little embarrassed by his sudden insertion into the conversation, but that has never stopped him before, so he crosses his arms and puts on his authoritative voice as he says: “I might not be an expert on the topic, but I can tell they were out of line Saturday. You have a right to feel however you want about that.”

“Thank you, Cap,” Buck says sincerely and Bobby feels something he doesn’t want to identify when Buck smiles at him, so he just gives a nod back.

For a moment it seems like that will be the end of it, then Buck says: “It’s just-” he makes a frustrated noise “-ugh, I don’t know. It’s better, I guess because we don’t live there anymore and Eddie is here instead of in fucking Afghanistan getting shot at and usually Helena and Ramon are a few states away and no longer spreading all sort of rumors around town. So, it’s good. It’s better.”

He doesn’t even notice their horrified looks at his words, just continuing his rant: “Tía Pepa and Abuela are a lot better company, not homophobic, which is nice. So, it sucks that it still gets to me, you know. That I can’t just shake it off. They don’t even know I’m bi. It’s not personal, just an affront to Ramon’s masculinity that Eddie would even consider marrying me, even if it means nothing.” His voice cracks on that last words and he clears his throat, pressing his hands to his eyes and taking a deep breath, before softly adding: “Sorry. I don’t mean to dump all this on you. I just need get over it, you already-”

“Buck please stop apologizing,” Hen interrupts. She sits down next to him and slings an arm around his shoulder. Instantly Buck leans into the half-hug.

“Yeah, man, that sounds incredibly fucked up. Like do we need to buy plane tickets to egg their house or some shit? Because I will,” Chimney agrees.

Bobby nods too. “Yes, it sounds like you’ve been putting up with a lot this whole weekend. These past few years even. We’re here if you need to talk about it.”

All of them are kind enough to not mention what part Buck’s voice broke on. Bobby isn’t clueless, you know. He can put one and one together. Buck is in love with Eddie and Eddie doesn’t love Buck back, that has to be killing him a little too on top of all this.

“Thank you,” Buck says watery, wiping at his eyes again. Then he groans: “God, this weekend has been awful.”

“Here, why don’t we head upstairs and I’ll make everyone hot chocolate and you can tell us more about it,” Bobby offers, holding out his hand for Buck to take.

Buck takes it, the previously watery smile getting closer to a grin as he does. As much as Bobby tries to ignore it, he can’t fully deny that the action causes a wave of affection to rush through him.

Making hot chocolate is a good distraction, which Bobby takes gratefully. With his hands busy, it’s easier to process as Buck explains exactly how him and Eddie met and how adopting Chris and his current life came about. It’s quite the story – and one that could only befall Buck – and Bobby tries to reorganize everything he knows with this new information.

The display at that birthday party was not a newly revealed cruel side of Buck, but instead a tension that has been built over years culminating in a passive aggressive relation further fueled by the presence of Chris, who prevented outright hostility.

For Buck, Eddie doesn’t come out of nowhere, but is instead such an intimate and prominent part of his life that he barely considered it would look abnormal from a more outside perspective. The deep love he appears to hold for Eddie, however unspoken it might be, also explains why all of them misunderstood.

It also explains why Bobby nearly had to fire Buck over his behavior as he seemingly tried to implode his life in front of their eyes. Especially when he says: “I don’t understand why they always have to be so pressed about it, you know. Our plan has always been to divorce, I’m just helping Eddie get through his recovery, then they’re rid of me.”

“You’re not sticking around after the divorce?” Hen asks, as if she can barely believe it. Neither can Bobby or Chimney, they’ve all seen how much Buck loves Chris, his family, he doesn’t seem like the type to just abandon that.

“I mean, I’d like to, but we haven’t really, uh… discussed it?” Buck says, the reply coming out more like a question than an answer.

“Buck, you have to talk to Eddie about that,” Hen advises.

“How?” Buck shoots back. “I barely know what we’re doing half of the time and Eddie already has a lot on his plate with his recovery and his parents and the studying to start the Academy. I don’t want to add to that with my nonsense, you know.”

“Kid, look at me,” Bobby orders, waiting until Buck has before he continues. “From what you’ve told us, you stepped inside with Eddie when he needed it, kept him company; his burdens became your burdens. However, your burdens became his burdens too. You’re not adding your nonsense to his plate, you’re sharing the burdens that come with being partner. Because even if it is not romantic, you and him are partners. Partnerships don’t work if you don’t talk and bottle things up. It’s only going to lead to that bottle exploding in an argument and that’s the last thing you want.”

Buck blinks a few times as he processes Bobby’s words. His face tells everyone there that he had not considered that angle before this moment.

A part of Bobby wants to face palm at him for it, but another part is forcefully reminded at how young Buck is. How he stumbled into this partnership, parenthood and all those responsibilities at twenty-two, maybe twenty-three. How he’s had no practice runs or time to fully explore himself, before this. Neither of them.

“Huh, maybe, I guess,” Buck finally responds. “I don’t want to make it worse though.”

“You won’t, kid,” Bobby promises. “I believe in you.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Buck smiles brightly at him.

And as Buck does that, Bobby is once again overtaken by that same rush of affection and it is mixed in with pride, the same sort of pride he used to get when looking at his kids. As he feels it, Bobby realizes he is absolutely screwed. Because despite his efforts, Buck has wormed his way past his defenses and into his heart and now Bobby is feeling paternal pride about it.

It feels slightly terrible. Like he is replacing Brooke and Junior with Buck, erasing them and taking a second chance at fatherhood he doesn’t deserve. But selfishly, he finds himself wanting to be there for Buck, wanting to give him advice and praise and see him grow.

They still don’t know why Buck hasn’t been in contact with his family for a while, but Eddie made it clear it was on them, not Buck. And having seen Buck there, Bobby realizes that Buck has as much of an empty void as Bobby has. That he craves support, a side of the family to balance out Eddie’s. And selfishly, Bobby wants to be that. Wants to be there for him. For Chris.

But maybe… maybe that isn’t too selfish.

God keeps giving him second chances and Bobby never knows what he has done to deserve it, why He would do that, why He would make Bobby live. But maybe this is it? Because while Bobby might not deserve it, Buck certainly does.

It won’t make up for 148 deaths and it won’t erase the loss he has experienced, but maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe it can just be two lost, lonely souls leaning on each other and keeping each other afloat in this world until they can better it.

So he chokes out: “Of course, kid,” ruffling Buck’s hair as he does and ignoring the looks that earns him from Hen and Chimney, feeling relieved when the conversation continues and he can sit back a bit and just listen in.

Yeah, maybe this can be enough.

~~

A/N:

I wrote the I do verse before season 8 aired, so I put Chris’s birthday in February, since we didn’t know yet and for the timeline to make sense in the fic that fit best, so that’s why it’s not in the summer

Tbh, while I don’t regret putting in Buck 1.0, because it’s great character building and break down moment for him, it does fucking suck sometimes in these lol. Like the assumed cheating thing always has to be addressed, because it did happen and it makes me wanna tear my hair out.

However, the mental image of the most awkward and uncomfortable kid’s party ever is sending me, even though it sucks for all these characters involved. Like just picturing the 118 sitting in a little row on a couch, being forceful observers to the Buckley-Diaz family tension while looking at each other like ‘do you also see this or am I going crazy?’ is so funny to me.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Morning after and yeah, I hope whoever came up with the idea to kill Solar at the writer's table always has wet socks, their belt loop always gets stuck on the doorknob when they go through a doorway, and may their toaster always burn their bread or bagel.

I also hope Moon manages to pull himself out of depression and grieving over losing his best friend after a bit, reverses the dimensional collapse, and sacrifices Ruin in the process

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

Love is an open wound

Zevlor x Rolan, past Zevlor x Kanon.

Inspired by this post, which I misread. 🤦‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers, mild canon divergence for Act 1, panic attack, nightmares, horror, body horror, semi-graphic depictions of violence, PTSD symptoms, nonconsensual enthrallment, nonconsensual use of the Calm Emotions spell (consent is given after), survivors guilt, (minor) character deaths, canon character deaths (more like Kanon character death).

______________________________________________________________

The Absolute had been defeated and peace, or as much peace that a city such as Baldur's Gate could hope to have, had been restored. Ravenguard had managed to purge the worst of the corruption which had infested the highest reaches of government, and the city had been rebuilt.

The tiefling refugees were thriving in the port-city. Alfira had almost a dozen music students. Dammon's forge had months worth of commissions lined up, with more coming in everyday. Rolan had become the Master of Ramazith's Tower and business was booming at Sorcerers Sundries. He had also recently opened a free public library that anyone was welcome to use— so long as they treated the books and scrolls with due care. Bex and Danis had recently adopted a cat. Zevlor had refound his faith and was a paladin once more.

Zevlor was also in a committed relationship with Rolan. To say he was shocked when the mage had approached him after the elder brain had been defeated and asked him on a date would be an understatement. Zevlor was dubious anent the younger man's desires; why would a powerful, young, handsome man like Rolan want an old, washed up, soldier such as him? But Rolan was nothing if not determined, and after much reassurance Zevlor allowed himself to give into his "selfish" desires, and now (just over a year and a half later) they were living together in Ramazith's Tower.

Zevlor had fretted about how Rolan's protective siblings would react to their brother dating an older man, but Cal and Lia welcomed him with open arms (after giving him a shovel talk). "He's had a crush on you since he hit puberty." Lia had told the old Hellrider, much to Rolan's chagrin.

Zevlor was elated to find that he got on well with the mage's siblings. Cal was delighted to have another level-headed person to diffuse Lia and Rolan's constant bickering. While Lia was eager to train with the old Hellrider. She had even privately thanked Zevlor for being a calming influence on her bristly brother.

"Rolan isn't as pissy now that the stick that was shoved up his ass has been replaced with your great sword."

(Zevlor couldn't look her in the eyes for 2 tendays.)

The commander had also befriended the local population of stray cats. Zevlor was fairly certain that most of them only saw him as a meal ticket, but there were a few who seemed to genuinely enjoy his company.

Life was good and Zevlor was content, most of the time. But sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of Rolan out of the corner of his eye, or he'd see the younger tiefling approaching with the evening sun brightly blazing behind him, and for a split second he'd swear that he'd seen Kanon.

The two young men were very different people, in both their looks and their personalities— but both of them sported shoulder length hair, and their horn structures were almost identical; making them look just similar enough that, in the right light, Zevlor would see brief glimpses of Kanon when he looked at Rolan.

These bittersweet moments made Zevlor's heart ache. Guilt and anxiety made his stomach churn. Zevlor was worried that he was somehow cheating on Rolan in his wistful reminiscing on his prior swain. He worried that he was trying to replace Kanon with Rolan. He worried that his previous feelings for Kanon were preventing him from fully loving Rolan in the way that the man deserved to be loved— wholly and without question.

Compounding his guilt, Zevlor hadn't told Rolan about Kanon— but there wasn't really anything to tell. He hadn't been in a romantic relationship Kanon. In truth they were nothing more than friendly acquaintances... But there was an undeniable mutual attraction between them, and they'd been getting closer. Their relationship had just begun to blossom into something more when Kanon was killed.

Unfathomable remorse filled the old Hellrider. Kanon should have never been on the ramparts with him, but he was because he and Zevlor were flirting. Gods damn it, the man didn't even have any armor on! How could Zevlor have allowed himself to be so negligent in his duties!? If Zevlor was even half the paladin that he thought he was in Elturel, then Kanon wouldn't have died on that wall.

Despite his best efforts, Zevlor often found himself ruminating over his actions on that fateful day.

As soon as Zevlor had spotted the goblins nearing the Grove he yelled out an order to open the gate— he had directed the order to Akra, who had armor on, but Kanon was closer to the windlass— and so he took it upon himself to try to save Aradin's sorry backside from certain demise.

Zevlor saw the goblins nocking their arrows, he should've realized that a man who was a tailor by trade wouldn't have the reaction time of a trained soldier. But instead of diving on top of Kanon to shield him from the incoming volley of arrows, Zevlor had crouched down and covered his own hide because he (incorrectly) assumed that Kanon would also duck for cover.

Helm's unsleeping eyes, he remembered Kanon's death in perfect, agonizing, detail. The horrid sound the young man had made when the first arrow struck him. The sickening squelch as it effortlessly pierced his unarmored flesh.

Kanon may have been able to survive the initial arrow, had the second arrow not struck true by slotting between his ribs and piercing his heart.

The anguished wail that Kanon's sister, Akra, emitted upon seeing her brother's demise haunted Zevlor in his dreams.

Zevlor's night terrors had been intensifying as of late. His nightmares had started to combine the horrors he experienced in Avernus with how he had failed his kinsfolk in the Shadowlands.

In his dreams the refugee tieflings were being slaughtered by demons while he dispassionately stood by, watching as their souls were dammed to perdition in the hells.

The felled tieflings surrounded him, and the only thing louder than their wails of pain and terror were their loathsome screeches of blame and anger. They demanded to know why he had let them die when he had promised to protect them. They castigated him for his cowardice. They lambasted him for his audacity in thinking that he deserved happiness. He didn't.

Other nightmares solely featured Kanon. His bloated and decaying corpse loomed over Zevlor as blood poured from his mouth while he stared accusingly at him with his dead, hate filled eyes. Kanon didn't need to say anything for Zevlor to know that he was angry with him for idlily standing by as his sister was murdered, to know that the young man (correctly) blamed him for their deaths.

And then a familiar sneer would twist Kanon's reddening face until it morphed into Rolan's unmarred visage.

"How long until you cause my death?" Rolan pointedly asked Zevlor as his face began to decay, sloughing off in grotesque chunks as 10,000 tormented voices emanated all at once from Rolan's rotting mouth when he accusingly screamed at Zevlor. "ł'₥ ₲Øł₦₲ ₮Ø ĐłɆ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ Ø₣ ɎØɄ!"

"NO!" Zevlor yelled as he shot up from bed. He couldn't breath, he couldn't see anything other than the static that filled his vision. His ears were ringing so loudly that he couldn't hear anything else.

He was dead. He was dead and he was dammed to relive his failures over and over again for the rest of eternity. He had never actually escaped the hells. Tav hadn't rescued him from the mind flayer pod at Moonrise Towers. He was dead. He was-

A gentle wave of calm washed over the old Hellrider. He could suddenly breath again as the ringing in his ears quieted and the world around him came into focus. Rolan was in front of him, saying soothing words to him.

"He looks worried." Zevlor distantly thought.

"Just focus on my voice Zevlor. Good. We're going to breath together now, follow my lead." Rolan instructed him.

"Breath in." Rolan inhaled as Zevlor copied him. "And breath out."

They repeated the breathing exercise several times until Zevlor had fully returned to his body.

The former commander was drenched in sweat, his skin was clammy and cold. Zevlor's whole body was shaking from the aftershocks of his night terror.

It wasn't until Rolan carefully wiped the tears from his face that Zevlor realized he was silently crying.

A sudden, wretched sob erupted from the very depths of Zevlor's soul. Years of repressed emotions spilled forth from, unfettered by shame or pride.

Rolan held him tight. It felt as though his love was the only thing holding Zevlor together as he was soothingly rocked in the mages arms.

Zevlor must have fallen asleep— as an indeterminate amount of time later he was gently roused from his slumber by Rolan, who handed him some water and softly ordered the old soldier "Drink."

Zevlor nodded in both acquiescence and a gesture of gratitude as he silently accepted the cool glass of water from the other man. He hadn't realized how parched he was until he started drinking. It took more restraint than he'd like to admit to swallow the refreshing liquid at a moderate pace instead of desperately chugging it.

When Zevlor was done drinking he handed the glass back to Rolan, who put it on the nightstand.

"You didn't put a coaster under it." He told Rolan.

"What?" Rolan asked.

"The glass," Zevlor said as he pointed to the offending object "you didn't put it on a coaster, it'll leave a mark if you leave it like that."

Rolan's face skewed in... confusion? Incredulity? Bewilderment?

"I know that you don't like water rings on the furniture, that's why I pointed it out." Zevlor lamely added, fearing he had offended his romantic partner.

"Zevlor, dear," Rolan said slowly, as though he was speaking to Minsc someone whose mental faculties were chronically understaffed. "I don't give a cranium-rat's ass about potential condensation rings right now, I am worried about you." Rolan replied in baffled, albeit fond, exasperation.

"You are?" Zevlor asked.

"Yes." Rolan answered while looking at Zevlor as though he'd grown another horn. "I woke to you thrashing around in your sleep from terrible night terrors, I tried to wake you but I was unable rouse you. Then you suddenly bolted upright while screaming in a terror-stricken, anguished voice."

Rolan took a deep, steadying breath before he continued.

"You were nonsensical, saying that you were dead and being tormented in the hells or that you were still trapped in a mind flayer pod. Your eyes were open but they weren't seeing." Rolan shakily told him.

"Oh." Was all Zevlor could think to respond.

"I couldn't get though to you, so I used Calm Emotions on you in the hopes that it would free you from wherever your mind had you trapped. I'm sorry I used my magic to to control your emotions, but I didn't know how else to help you." Rolan said.

It was Zevlor's turn to look at Rolan as though he had grown another horn.

"Why are you apologizing?" Zevlor asked, but continued to talk before Rolan could reply.

"You pulled me out of a very unpleasant place. You shouldn't be apologizing, I should be thanking you." He said as he gently thumbed Rolan's bottom lip, stopping him from worrying it between his teeth.

"I..." Rolan started, uncharacteristically hesitant. "I used a spell to control you, to control your emotions, without your consent." He said.

"I was hardly in a place where I could consent Rolan." Zevlor dismissively replied, then, upon seeing guilt fill Rolan's eyes, quickly added "But I am glad that you did! Your spell helped me immensely!"

When Rolan responded it was with carefully chosen words, though whether they were purely for Zevlor's benefit, or if they were a byproduct of Rolan working though his own emotions, was hard to say.

"You've told me some of what happened in the Shadowlands. I was... concerned that my actions may have been similar to, or reminded you of... the time when you were enthralled by the elder brain."

Zevlor blinked in surprise, and even as the familiar feelings of guilt and remorse bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, the warmth that filled him from the younger man's tender concern caused Zevlor to softly smile.

"I promise you, the circumstances here are very different from... that instance." Zevlor said, causing a small grimace to flash across both of their faces.

"I don't feel as though you violated my autonomy." Zevlor resolutely told Rolan, as he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss between his pinched brows.

Rolan sighed with palpable relief, his face smoothing.

"Do you want to talk about your night terrors?" Rolan asked.

Zevlor sighed as he responded, "Not particularly, but I probably should."

Rolan kissed the old Hellrider's forehead and then told him "Take all the time you need love." as he intertwined his and Zevlor's tails together.

After a few minutes of gathering his thoughts, and his courage, Zevlor began to tell Rolan about his nightmares. The younger man listened attentively, holding Zevlor's hand all the while.

"Before I continue relaying the contents of my nightmare, there is something you should know. Someone that I haven't told you about yet." Zevlor cautiously said.

After Rolan nodded in acknowledgment, Zevlor began to tell him of his and Kanon's not-quite-relationship.

"You remember Kanon, yes?" Zevlor asked, continuing after Rolan nodded, "Well he and I... We... We weren't together, but..."

Zevlor trailed off, his courage leaving him as his self doubt began to overwhelm him.

"Zevlor, are you trying to tell me about how you and Kanon danced around each other as you both obliviously, and obviously, pined for one another?" Rolan asked with a bit of amusement slipping into his voice despite his efforts to rein it in.

Zevlor's eyes were as wide saucers when he asked "You already knew!?"

Rolan let his smile slip as he answered "Zevlor, everyone knew. It was painfully obvious that you two had alchemy with each other. I'm fairly certain that Mol's gang were running a betting ring on when you two would finally start dating."

Embarrassed, Zevlor indignantly asked "And no one said anything!?"

"No." Rolan shrugged. "There wasn't much entertainment to be had on the road. Of course I didn't partake in such jejune activities. But I knew of your feelings for him, and his for you. I think everyone except you two knew."

Zevlor stared at Rolan as though he had just told him that the sky was lime green.

"You knew that I had romantic feelings for Kanon?" He asked, needing to clarify what he had just heard.

Rolan looked at Zevlor with a mixture of sympathy and tenderness. "Yes Zevlor, I knew."

"It... it doesn't bother you?" Zevlor hesitantly asked.

"No, Zevlor. It doesn't bother me." Rolan reassured him.

The floodgates opened once more as Zevlor began sobbing.

He told Rolan of what had happened that day. How he blamed himself for Kanon's death. How he was worried that he was using Rolan as a replacement. How he sometimes saw Kanon when he looked at Rolan.

Zevlor came clean about everything. His fears, his doubts, his regrets. How he didn't think he deserved to be happy when he was the reason so many had died.

And Rolan listened without judgement. At times he looked shocked, or angry at the circumstances life had put Zevlor in, or sadness for what he had lost— but he was never resentful.

Eventually Zevlor had confessed everything he'd been hiding from Rolan to him. Despite feeling exhausted Zevlor felt lighter than he had in a very long time.

But of course the reprieve from his self-flagellation only lasted for a few moments.

As Zevlor's senses returned to him so too did his shame. He was a commander of the Hellriders, damnit. How could he be so weak?

HIs self-loathing was unceremoniously interrupted when Rolan none-too-gently flicked his forehead.

"Stop that." Rolan firmly told him.

Zevlor did not pout as he snuggled closer, embarrassed at having been caught denigrating himself— causing the mage to quietly chuckle and kiss Zevlor's forehead in apology.

"I've covered you with my snot, sweat, and tears." Zevlor pointed out.

Rolan's voice betrayed his disgust, "I am aware."

Zevlor snickered at Rolan's disgruntled tone.

By the next morning all traces of Zevlor's bodily secretions had been magicked away.

Zevlor woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

"About time you've woken up, you slugabed." Rolan lovingly teased.

Zevlor hid his smile underneath the blanket as he replied "You young people these days, so disrespectful to your elders."

Rolan made a noncommittal noise as he drank his coffee.

"Mmm, I am very disrespectful— so disrespectful that I graciously brought you a fresh cup of coffee to lazily enjoy in bed." he said good naturedly.

The promise of caffeine inspired Zevlor to fully wake up.

Rolan tittered as he handed the now awake Hellrider his coffee.

Their eyes locked as Zevlor accepted the warm cup from him. The adoring look Rolan gave him soothed his soul in a way that words could not.

He knew that they were okay. They'd probably discuss what he'd revealed the night before, but they would be okay.

They were more than okay. They were good.

Life was good, and it was going to get even better.

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober Day 14/prompt 14-Alternate Universe

if i need to single handedly populate this fandom with urban fantasy aus by the gods i will

@mechtober-2024

An Average Day 'Round Here, Really - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw, my poor attempts at using british vernacular with my very limited knowledge of it as an american, cursing, arguing (mostly jokingly), mentioned alcohol, implied alcohol consumption, blood, blood consumption, non-con blood drinking, minor unnamed character death, probably more, feel free to ask me to tag something!!

Brian woke with a groan, and something heavy on top of him. He cracked an eye open, glaring at whichever one of his flatmates it was that decided to wake him up this time. It turned out to be Raphaella. He glanced at his clock–eleven AM. Too early, by his standards, but he did have some classes that day, so he would’ve had to get up at some point.

“What do you want, Raph?” He asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Do you have the chem notes from Friday?” she asked, staring up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. His still freshly-woken up and foggy mind thought she looked a lot like a bird, like one of those falcon’s Tim’s constantly sending pictures of.

Brian stared back at her. “Raph. You couldn’t wait for two hours for me to wake up with my alarm to ask that?”

“My chem lab is at noon!” She defended. “And you almost never get up before noon.” She poked him on the nose. “It was much easier to wake you up, insomniac. You need to work on your sleep schedule.”

“I at least get a consistent amount of sleep,” Brian grumbled, “how much have you slept recently?”

Raphaella quickly turned her head, waving her hand dismissively. “Not important! My chem lab is in an hour, do you have the notes or not?”

Brian curled up further under his sheets, humming quietly and closing his eyes again as if he’d be able to get any more sleep. “In the yellow notebook, on my desk. Hundredth page in.”

“Ah! Thank you, dearest,” Raph kissed his forehead and jumped off him, scurrying towards his desk.

“Mhm…”

Raphaella grabbed the notebook, and left the room. There was a brief moment where Brian could almost fool himself that he was asleep, before Raph came back into his room. “Do you… want me to turn your light on to help you wake up or…?”

Brian groaned, and pulled one of his pillows over his head. “Please let me at least try to get my last two hours of rest!”

“Okay, sorry!” And then Raphaella actually left him alone to get some more sleep.

—-- By the time his alarm went off, Brian had been playing a random game on his phone for at least an hour and a half. At some point in his attempts to get back to sleep, he’d given up and began playing on his phone. However, with his phone vibrating aggressively and playing one of Toy’s newer songs loudly, he couldn’t get away with hiding any longer, and he forced himself to get up.

He sat up, stretching his arms, back popping as he did so. He swung his legs, testing his knees. Finding they didn’t ache as much as usual, he decided to venture out into the living area of the apartment without his cane. As he entered the living room, it was just as he expected–chaotic. And loud, he was honestly surprised he hadn’t noticed before, while he was still hiding in his room.

Everyone in their friend group was there– while Brian, Marius and Raph were technically the only ones on the lease, it was admittedly more unusual if there weren’t at least six people in their flat at once. Typically, all nine of them were in at once, but Raph had a few labs on Monday’s and Nastya had one of her computer science classes in the afternoon on Mondays, so it was only the seven of them on Monday afternoons. Eight, if Marius convinced Lyfrassir to come around, or they’d stayed the night. Nine, at most and if they were lucky, and Bertie was visiting from his campus.

Currently, Jonny was laying on top of Ashes while rambling about something from his creative writing class, maybe something about his teacher who he hated. Apparently, he was kind of a jackass, but it was Jonny, and Jonny was prone to exaggeration, so he could’ve been fine. Toy and Marius were playing chopsticks while debating something in German, Ivy was reading a book while sitting upside down on the couch, and Gunpowder was cooking something.

Ashes was the first to notice his emergence, as he made a beeline for the coffee pot. “Morning, doll,” Ashes called, smirking. Brian rolled his eyes at them.

“It’s afternoon,” Brian pointed out, “that’s the point. I don’t like getting up early.”

“It’s still fun to bother you about,” Ashes said. He could hear the grin in their voice. Brian rolled his eyes again, and set about making his coffee, being careful to move around Tim while he-they?-continued cooking.

“Pronouns?” Brian asked, starting his cup.

“She/he, thanks,” Gunpowder smiled, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “So you’re finally awake?”

“Oh, you can’t talk, Timopher,” Brian flicked the other on the head. She groaned at that.

“Not you too! I’m going to kill Jonny for getting you all started on that!”

Brian grinned, but didn’t say anything more. Tim pouted, but returned to his cookery. The smell of bacon hit Brian’s nose as something started sizzling on a pan, and his stomach growled at him. Gunpowder noticed, and tilted his head at him as Brian grabbed a mug from one of the cabinets. “D’you want some of this? I can make more, it’s just eggs, some toast, and bacon.”

Brian shook his head as he poured his cup of coffee. “No, thank you. I was planning on getting something on my way to my anatomy class.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, glancing at him over his glasses. “Your anatomy class is at three. It’s almost one-fifteen. You have time to eat a proper breakfast.” Brian waved her off as he took a sip of his coffee. Tim wrinkled his nose. “Brian. One-coffee isn’t breakfast. Two-black coffee? Seriously?”

Brian shrugged. “It’s better than coffee ice cream for breakfast.”

Gunpowder rolled her eyes, pinching her nose. “It’s not- I’m not doing this. And besides, that was one time during finals last year. I don’t think any of us had a consistent amount of sleep or a consistent amount of food in our stomachs.”

“The woes of being a college student,” Brian said, taking another sip of his coffee and walking towards the adjoining living room.

“Yea- wait I’m not done lecturing you–!”

But Brian was already sitting down next to Ivy and ignoring her complaints. “Good afternoon, Brian. Did you sleep well?”

“Would’ve slept better if Raph didn’t wake me up, but mostly, yeah.”

Ivy nodded. “I apologize, I was the one to tell Raphaella to ask you for the notes. I forgot how much you dislike being woken up early.” She turned another page in her book.

“It’s fine, Ivy, I’ll just try and go to bed a bit early tonight.”

“I believe it’s a misnomer to say you sleep at night–you go to bed most often at four AM.”

Brian–couldn’t deny her there. “Is it comfortable, sitting upside down like that?” he asked instead.

“It is plenty comfortable for me. Thank you for your concern, though.”

Brian nodded, and took another sip of his coffee. The still-scalding liquid burned in his throat, and behind it a thirst he’d been doing his best to ignore burned as well. He’d have to do something about it soon–the… thirst? Hunger? He still wasn’t sure what to call it, nearly two years later–either way, he’d have to do something about it soon, it was getting hard to ignore.

Gunpowder came into the room with a plate of food, flopping onto the couch next to (almost on top of) Ashes. “Oh, by the way,” she started, “I’m going to be visiting Bertie over the next few days, I’m heading out a bit later, so I might not be able to make it to band practice on Thursday.”

“Have fun,” Jonny said, reaching over to Tim’s paper plate and taking some of the bacon for himself.

Tim swatted at Jonny’s hand, sticking his tongue out at the other. Jonny stuck his tongue out at her. Brian smiled at his friends' shenanigans–not quite dumbassery, but a very similar brand of chaos. Though, dumbassery usually ended with someone injured and an argument about whether or not a trip to A&E was necessary. And a kidnapping to take someone to A&E, but that was neither here nor there.

“Tell Bertie we say hello,” Ivy said, as Brian glanced over at Marius and Toy, who were still completely absorbed in their game and debate.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll know,” Tim shrugged as Jonny–successfully, this time–stole some of Gunpowder’s bacon.

Tim didn’t notice at first, but when she did, she immediately turned on Jonny. The other grinned, which only annoyed Tim more. Brian decided that was a good moment to down the rest of his scalding coffee, and get up to get dressed. “Do you think I can get away with not wearing my binder today without my chem lab supervisor misgendering me?”

Ivy glanced up from her book and raised an eyebrow at him.

“…Yeah, fair enough…” Brian sighed. He didn’t really care one way or the other about wearing his binder or how people perceived him, but sometimes it got tiring getting misgendered by people around him. Oh well, he wouldn’t have to wear it all day. Brian glanced back at Gunpowder and Jonny, and saw that Tim had completely ditched his breakfast, and was now wrestling with Jonny while Ashes took her bacon. All in all, a normal day, really.

—--

Brian hated the sun. Without a doubt, he hated the sun. It was hot, it was bright and hurt his eyes, and it made him tired. Really, besides it providing light for the rose bushes he’d been trying to grow out of his flat’s window box, he had no reason to like the sun. Except for the fact that most of his friends were awake when the sun was up, but most of his friends had absolutely god awful sleep schedules, and Brian was half certain Raphaella was more willing to do hard drugs than sleep when she could be ‘science-ing’. So, really, other than the roses needing sunlight to grow, he really didn’t have any reason to appreciate the sun. So, naturally, with such a hatred of the sun, he did his best to avoid it, but sometimes he was forced to face the burning ball of hydrogen gas and plasma.

The latest anatomy class he could get was at three, and thus he was forced to face the sun at least twice a week on Mondays and Thursdays (for his bio-chem class, which was at two-thirty) if he wanted to actually gain that pre-med he’d been working towards since Secondary. At the very least, with the weather changing and slipping more into the icy chill of fall and winter, the amount of time he’d have to face the sun was lessened. Which he was grateful for, even though the sun had long since begun to set as he made his way home from his last monday class (he also had a chem lab on mondays, but it was at a different time than Raphaella’s) at six in the evening.

When he returned to the flat, placing his bag by the door and tossing his jacket on the coat wrack. With a quick glance around the flat’s living room, he noted that everyone was there with the exception of Gunpowder. She must’ve already headed off to Bertie’s campus. Lyf was there, sitting on the couch braiding Raphaella’s hair while she braided Marius’s hair, and Marius scribbled something down while Nastya played her viola. Jonny and Ashes were cooking something, though he could hear Jonny saying he was gonna head out once the food was done. Toy was laying on the floor on top of Ivy, both of whom were reading different books. Toy was reading a book that appeared to be about different species of frogs, and Ivy seemed to be reading something about mice. Which did nothing to narrow down what she was reading.

Lyf glanced up from their work, briefly, and nodded at him as he entered. Brian smiled and waved, continuing his walk to his room.

“Brian!” Ashes called, peaking leaning on the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. “You gonna want any o’ this, doll?”

“Oh!” Brian hummed. “No, probably shouldn’t–I told Galahad I’d go out for drinks with him and some of his friends.”

“The Pendragons, again?” Ashes raised an eyebrow as Jonny pouted, turning to face him as well.

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. He glanced at Jonny and smirked at him. “What’s with the pout, dear?”

Jonny scoffed, face turning a bright red. “Fuck off! I put in all this work and you ain’t even gonna try any?”

Brian’s smirk softened. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t realize you were making dinner for us tonight. Save some for me?”

Jonny huffed and nodded, turning back to his cooking and waving him off. Brian glanced into the pot, trying to decipher what it was that he and Ashes were cooking. It looked like some kind of stew. With that mystery kind-of solved, Brian headed to his bedroom to change into something a bit more bar-appropriate.

He did have somewhere to be, afterall. While the night was young.

—--

Brian, along with the sun, hated bars. Their smell was rancid, there were always too many people and they were always too close, Brian hated bars. More specifically, he hated getting hit on at bars. And yet, here he was, in a back alley behind a bar making out with some random drunk person. They were-probably a man? And definitely older than him, but Brian wasn’t picky with his snacks.

Though, in times like these, he found himself often missing his friends–“the Crew”, as Jonny sometimes called them.

Their relationship was… Well, it was something. He could probably write a philosophy thesis on it, actually. And it wouldn’t be fair to say they weren’t open, by no means were whatever-they-were a closed relationship. But maybe it wasn’t fair to say whatever they had was open, either? Since it wasn’t exactly defined in most areas.

Tim and Bertie were something, though Gunpowder refused to elaborate further. Tim and Jonny were dating(?)–that’s literally how they described it, too–Jonny was willing to have sex with most of them except Nastya (for obvious reasons. Ew), whereas Marius was usually the opposite, he’d take everyone out on dates and plan elaborate dinners or lunches or breakfasts or brunches, whatever meal it was, but sex was a very inconsistent desire for him. Brian was generally the same way, though a bit less… dramatic, about it. His planned dates were always much less extravagant than Marius’s. Nastya was exclusive with her long-distance girlfriend, but she and Brian kissed sometimes, and he knows that she and Ivy also do the same on occasion. Toy was odd, but it was always sweet and it was involved in the relationship chaos in all the ways that mattered, it deserved a place in this train of thought. It didn’t exactly feel romantic or sexual attraction, but had expressed that it loved the Crew all deeply and truly, and always tried to help and show its care in whatever ways it deemed to be effective.

Ashes had something with everyone, but it looked different depending who of the Crew they were with, Raph and Ivy were dating, Marius was starting to date Lyffrassir, which actually seemed to be going pretty well compared to previous romantic exploits outside the Crew of his, Marius, Ivy, and Raphaella were dating, and all of them were just… generally pretty touchy feel-y? It was always weird to see one of the Crew and not see at least two others nearby. And dating or being fuckbuddies with one of them generally meant having to share with the rest at least, and if not, being roped up a lot more tightly in their web of weirdness (as Lyf had once called it). Lyf was still new, but they seemed to get along with everyone pretty well, and had even made out with Brian on a few occasions, and he’d definitely seen them leaving Raph’s room with tousled clothes and hair in the early morning while he was still awake, shortly followed by Ivy or Raph–or both.

All that to say, there were about nine other people that Brian could be kissing that he’d much rather be snogging behind a dingy bar. The probably-a-man reached up and curled a lock of his hair around their finger. “You’ve got such pretty hair, doll,” they said, breaking the kiss.

The stench of whiskey was heavy on their breath–it was amazing they were coherent at all–and Brian was hit with two twin pangs of longing, one with an equal measure of anger. Only Ashes got to call him doll. Brian would have to try and finish this quickly, even if he didn’t really want to hurt them. They hadn’t done anything yet. Except– well, except agreeing to makeout with a college student in a back alley. Brian had to force himself to not wrinkle his nose at the whiskey smell that came with each of their heavy breaths–that was a scent that was only kinda sexy on Jonny–there was no way he wasn’t going to be at least a little tipsy after everything was over. Which–might sell his excuse about going out for drinks with Galahad and the Pendragon Polycule better than coming home sober.

“Thanks,” Brian replied quietly, “a friend of mine does it for me.” Ivy had been dying her hair forever, and was therefore the most apt member of the Crew to aid in taking care of everyone’s hair when they were too Tired to do it themselves for one reason or another. It was always relaxing, her hands running through his hair as she washed it for him in either the bathroom sink or the flat’s tub–he had a lot of hair and was very inconsistent about cutting it to various lengths. It seemed to make his joints stop hurting and his head less achey. She’d probably say something about endorphins and serotonin and relaxing–or maybe Raph would, no telling who.

“Oh?” they responded, clearly uninterested.

“Mhm,” Brian nodded. “Hey, did you know that the scales of most sharks, placoid scales, are made up of largely the same enamel as what makes up teeth? So some people call their scales teeth scales.” Brian knew approximately four people who called them that, and one of them was studying marine biology. And the other three were Raph, Galahad, and Jonny. Actually, he’d heard Marius call them teeth scales before– or, no, he’d called them teeth skin. That still counted, he supposed. So, five people, on a technicality, probably six soon once Toy picks it up. He was surprised it hadn’t already, actually. “I’ve even heard some people call them teeth skin. Although they don’t eat with their skin, like some animals.”

Whatever direction the probably-a-man expected this conversation to go, this was certainly not it. They stared at him in confusion, pausing in twirling his hair in their hand. Well, that was what he was wanting, confusion and surprise. He was running out of odd animal facts though–Toy hadn’t given him any new bug facts in a while and it was more focused on trying to find frog facts that none of the Crew had heard before (which was harder than it seemed) and Lyffrassir was just generally hesitant to start infodumping about marine biology around anyone other than Marius it seemed. All this to say, Brian was thinking about getting a better method to throw people off their game.

He was overthinking this innocuous piece of information, he knew. Stalling. The confusion wouldn’t last long, the person’s inebriated mind probably already forgetting why they’re confused in the first place. He was hesitating, but god or gods above, his stomach ached with want. And yet, he was hesitating. He should really be used to this by now–he’s been doing this for two years at this point. Just– stop thinking, and do it.

“Well–” the person started, but didn’t get to finish as Brian lunged for their throat, sharp fangs easily piercing the delicate, human flesh. Their words, and their scream, died in their throat as he did so. They thrashed and tried to push him away, but being the inhuman thing he was, he was stronger and was able to hold them in place until they stopped trying to fight, as he drained their lifeblood through the gaping, gushing wound in their neck.

He always hated it, hated feeding off of and killing people. But if he didn’t, he could starve, and starving looked much worse than killing one or two people a month–he’d tested it. At least twice.

It was several minutes until the person fully went limp, but there was still blood and Brian was still hungry, even if he knew he was overindulging and going to feel sick and even more achey than usual later. Eventually though, as the now-corpse was starting to run dry (some part of himself, the part that was a starving, ravenous thing, wanted to drain as much as he could, and knew that there was surely more blood in the body that was just harder to get too–he ignored that part vehemently), Brian let the corpse drop and stepped back, staring blankly at the corpse.

He did this every time, taking a second to stare at the mess he left. Take a minute to revel in how awful he was.

A voice snapped him out of his post-feeding haze. “Oh~ I know that smell~!” Brian’s head snapped up to the end of the alley, eyes widening and body freezing in place. “What do we have– Brian?”

Jonny stared at him with glowing, red eyes, confusion written on his face.

Shit.