Chapter Text
There were words being said. Buck was acutely aware of that fact. Words being said about Robert Nash’s bravery, his kindness, his compassion.
But Buck wasn’t here, not really. He was still in that hallway. Falling apart. Watching Bobby die. Knowing that he’d failed.
So while his heart was there, and his body was sitting in a funeral he didn’t want to be at, Buck thought about a different day entirely - the one at the pier during the tsunami. Because today felt a lot like that. Bobbing. Floating. His head felt like it was constantly about to go under - a current that might win the battle at any given moment.
The sun was so bright.
There were still words being said, and now there was a bell.
Buck was aware of rising, and he was aware of little else until Tommy found him, hyperventilating in his Jeep after the procession. Buck didn’t know where everyone else was. He didn’t know why Tommy was here. I thought you were angry with me, he didn’t say. You should be. I hurt you. I broke your heart, just like you predicated. Even thought I didn’t mean to. Just like you predicted.
“Let me take you home.”
“I don’t have a home.”
Because he can’t go back to Eddie’s house right now. Not with Tommy and not alone.
And because Bobby was gone.
“Then come to mine,” Tommy said.
To be clear - it had never mattered when Tommy would have asked that question; the answer was always going to be yes. But standing in the parking lot on the day of Bobby’s funeral, with the obnoxious sun staring down at them, and Tommy’s strong hands on his shoulders the only thing holding him together?
It was perhaps when Buck needed to hear it the most.
“Please.”
Now, Buck was fairly certain that Tommy hadn’t brought him to his house with the intention to fuck - because oh, Buck knew what Tommy looked like when that intention was there - but Buck didn’t care.
He leaned his head into the crook of Tommy’s neck and sought the comfort that Tommy offered as those other arms were wrapped around him.
He’d tried so hard. He’d checked on them all, and it hadn’t mattered, and they hadn’t needed him.
“Evan, are you sure?”
“Please.” This time it was muffled into Tommy’s skin, which tasted of sweat and smoke and his familiar cologne.
Nobody else’s cologne, Buck told himself. He wasn’t sure he would have cared if there had been someone else - not right now.
“Please,” Buck started to say again.
But Tommy was moving - kissing him, unbuckling his belt, pushing him against the wall, tugging him towards the bedroom, and answering every successive plea with an enthusiastic yes.
Morning came, as it always did.
Wasn’t that the problem?
Tommy cooked for him - again.
“Should I take this as a bad sign?” Buck asked. He wondered if he should have taken a shower first. Instead. Maybe he should have showered and left and skipped the part where they break up again.
Isn’t that what always happened?
He didn’t want it to be.
“Not unless you’ve suddenly decided you hate eggs and bacon,” Tommy said easily.
His smile was warmer than basking in yesterday’s sun had been, and god, Buck had missed this.
“Thank you for taking care of me yesterday,” Buck said, a little hesitantly, because while the ground was a little more solid than it had been yesterday at the procession … he still wasn’t sure where they were.
He knew where he wanted to be, though.
Tommy put the plate in front of him and sat across from him. “I think it’s pretty clear by now that I’m pretty incapable of doing anything else,” Tommy answered. “In case the stolen helicopter didn’t make that clear.”
For you and for Chimney. The eggs went down a little roughly.
Maybe Tommy noticed. “I’m a little surprised,” Tommy said. “I expected … someone else to … be there …. in the truck… with you”
Tommy didn’t qualify where there was. Or what that person was supposed to be doing. Buck had a good idea who that person probably was, though, and - when he thought about Eddie right now and the way things were between them … well.
Something was off there. Buck didn’t know what it was, or why it was - just that it was, and honestly, how many more people was he going to have to lose?
“Well, everyone’s a bit busy with their own grief,” Buck said simply, and the eggs tasted like cement in his mouth. He put his fork down.
“Hm.” That was Tommy’s judgmental hmm, which was different than his contemplative hmm - and also different from Tommy’s run of the mill bitchy hmm. “But the 118 is still a family, right? They’re still taking care of you?”
Our family died in that lab. The 118 was just a number these days. But saying it out loud would make it true, and Buck couldn’t do that - not yet. “Yeah, of course. Just everyone grieves their way. At their own pace, you know?”
“Grief makes people do a lot of things they might not, otherwise,” Tommy said slowly, and Buck’s heart plummeted.
Well, of course. That’s what last night had been about, hadn’t it? Buck’s grief, and Tommy not wanting to turn him away when he was grieving.
Tommy had taken care of him. Like any decent person would take care of someone they’d cared about - once. Tommy was a first responder; he wouldn’t let someone drown.
It didn’t mean anything.
“Yeah,” Buck said, and he got up slowly. “It does. Thanks for last night, Tommy. It was … what I needed.”
Part of him wanted to say it was fun, but that was cruel - and Tommy didn’t deserve cruel. Buck knew why Tommy had thrown those words to him, once, and he wasn’t petty enough to throw them back. Buck had earned them, once, but Tommy hadn’t.
He wished Tommy would stop him, as he left. But Buck shut the door behind him, and got into his Jeep, and left.
Tommy didn’t stop him.
The basketball hoop on the top of Tommy’s garage could be seen in Buck’s rear view mirror, and boy, it sure did enjoy mocking him.
Time moved on. Grief stopped being so much like the tsunami and more like quicksand.
He was stuck - but it still felt like he was being pulled lower with each attempt he made at trying to get better.
Talking to his … friends. Colleagues? Teammates? Co-workers? Oh, he put the effort into it, because that’s what friends were supposed to do. But at the end of the day, he could have been talking to strangers, for all the good that it seemed to do.
Even a trip to the grocery store turned out poorly. But Buck didn’t want to dwell on that too much, because if things had been … off between him and Eddie before - well, after he’d returned from the grocery store, things became astronomically worse.
Now they were broken, and Buck laid in his hotel room wondering why he’d lost not just one but two people who mattered to him in a fucking kitchen argument.
Buck moved into a hotel while he searched for a new place. He certainly couldn’t live with Eddie, even though Christopher seemed to like the idea of being roommates - even though he’d smiled and hugged Christopher and talked to Pepa about “change” like that was all that was happening.
Change, Buck thought bitterly, like he’d just switched jobs or dyed his hair, or something equally mundane. Not as though he’d lost the closest thing he’d ever had to a steady family figure and was watching the rest of his family crumble around him without being able to do much about it.
Even though Eddie had offered, and had, in fact, clenched his jaw in that familiar way - the way that was becoming more and more familiar every time he looked at Buck these days - when Buck had declined.
He still reached out to people, though, because he’d promised. He’d promised Bobby. Well, he’d sort of promised. He’d listened to Bobby tell him that he was needed - so Buck continued to reach out, no matter how much that felt like a lie.
Until one day, it didn’t quite as much.
Until one day, he was sitting in May’s apartment with May and Harry having the second Bachelor with Buck night in a row.
Until one day, he was going over to Ravi’s house and meeting Ravi’s mom and snacking on papad while Ravi’s mom finished the dal and told them they weren’t eating enough - either of them, and his entire hotel room smelled like leftovers for days.
Until one day, Maddie called and spoke to him about baby Bobby and it didn’t feel like a knife being shoved into his chest.
Until one day, Tommy texted him. I just wanted to touch base. To make sure nobody’s too busy with their grief to check on you.
Buck smiled at the text, and sent Tommy a selfie of him, May, and Harry watching The Bachelor.
Thank you for never making me watch that, Tommy texted back, and Buck’s laugh was genuine for the first time in two months.
Now, Buck had a goal this year. He was going to get into shape again.
Sure, sure. There was nothing wrong with his body as it was. He knew that. But it was a little softer in spots than he’d liked it to be, and his job was a very physical one.
“Too many carbs,” he mentioned to Ravi during an exercise session. “During the great Tommy bake-off.”
And yeah. Saying Tommy’s name still did feel like a knife was being shoved in his chest. If all the other grief was settling… well. That one was still very much … unsettled.
“Nothing wrong with carbs,” Ravi answered. “No matter what my mother may think, pairing fish curry and rice and naan is a legitimate life choice.”
“See, I think she thought it was illegal,” Buck said, and his stomach rumbled again. Damn, he’d just eaten breakfast two hours ago.
Ravi laughed. “Not illegal. Just… geographically confused. But no worries; I’ve been making her cry about ‘Americanisms’ in my carb combinations for years. She lets me get away with it because she loves me. And possibly because of the cancer.”
Buck sets the weights down and laughs. “First of all, that’s dark. Second of all, getting in shape or not, I need to eat something.”
“Listen to your stomach,” Ravi said solemnly as they headed up the stairs. “Even if there’s nothing nearly as good as my mom’s food here.”
“Or Bobby’s,” Buck added gently. Because he could do that now, and it didn’t destroy him.
Ravi threw him a smile that said he understood that milestone, too. “Yeah,” he said. “Or Bobby’s.”
That night, Buck ate with Ravi and his mom again. He sent Tommy a pic - with Mrs. Panikkar’s permission, of course - of the red lentil curry (and extra naan that he and Ravi were enjoying).
Delicious. The naan too. Eat a piece for me. Tommy texted back.
“It’s not flirting. It’s just … we’re comfortably settled into friendship,” Buck explained to May and Harry as he took advantage of May’s kitchen to cook.
He was still looking for a place. A few places had seemed almost right. But fuck, he was tired of moving. He wanted this place to be the last one for a while.
So in the meantime, he stayed in his little hotel room - which did not have even the small kitchen that May’s apartment did - and enjoyed real food elsewhere.
Maybe that’s why the pounds were being so slow to come off, Buck reasoned.
“Listen, none of my friends ever call me delicious,” Harry said. “What is that? Are you making us enchiladas?”
“Enchiladas verdes,” Buck said cheerfully. “And I’m sure someone thinks you’re delicious, Harry. Not me, because that would be weird, but someone.”
“I’m not so sure anyone does,” May interjected. “And ooh, look at you. Making the sauce from scratch.”
“Okay, this recipe comes from Eddie’s abuela. I am not going to fuck it up by making it from a canned verde sauce,” Buck huffed as he husked the tomatillos.
But apparently he did fuck it up - because the dish that resulted in the end … didn’t taste right at all. Buck poked the enchiladas on his plate and scowled at them. It smelled bad, too.
May and Harry didn’t seem to notice. May ate hers and praised it, and Harry ate seconds and thirds.
“It tasted amazing, Buck,” May said. “You can cook for us anytime.”
In contrast to the … lack of cooking that was happening at the station, that felt really nice to hear. So Buck tried to ignore the way that the enchilada sauce didn’t taste right at all. Buck wondered if maybe his ongoing … issues with Bobby’s death were affecting his cooking. Maybe it was all in his head.
Four hours later, when he was throwing it up in his hotel bathroom, he thought maybe that wasn’t the smartest assumption.
May have given myself food poisoning, and possibly poisoned Bobby’s children, too. he texted Tommy. Think Bobby will haunt me as badly as Billy Boils?
I think Bobby will be kinder. I’m at work for another 11 hours, but do you need anything?
Buck was glad that he’d turned down an invitation to be anyone’s roommate, because that sentence alone, with all of the care that it conveyed, was enough to make a lump form in Buck’s throat; his shoulders shook not at all silently as he sobbed next to the hotel toilet.
You looked a little pale though. Maybe you’re coming down with something. Go to the doctor, May texted him.
It was good advice, but Buck ignored it. He was still feeling queasy, and more importantly, completely exhausted. He blamed the previous night’s puking session keeping him up late for the tiredness.
Everything okay? Rumor has it you’ve never called in except for the time a firetruck fell on top of you, Ravi texted him about an hour into the work day.
Buck snorted and put the heating pad back on his head. The extreme nausea was starting to pass, but now his head hurt. Probably from the throwing up, he reasoned.
He was still tired.
My body got used to Indian food and forgot how to process enchiladas, Buck texted back.
Enchiladas are delicious, but you still upgraded.
Ravi’s text was the only one he got from the station that day. Apparently they could gossip about him not coming in, but not text to see if he was alright. Which was … pretty much what Buck expected these days, actually. He wondered if Chimney was annoyed that he’d called off; he wouldn’t have been if it had been Hen or Eddie or Ravi or anyone else who worked there - but he always had room in his reserves to be irritated at Buck.
And, if Buck was being fair - no. He wouldn’t have called out if Bobby had still been captain. He would have sucked it up and went in and done his job.
But things were different now, so Buck closed his eyes to take a nap.
It was just one day. It would pass.
In fact, it did not pass.
Three and a half months after Bobby’s funeral procession, Buck had spent the morning throwing up the oranges, strawberries, and blueberries that he’d so strongly craved for breakfast.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to go in, telling himself that would pass. It usually did.
By noon, he was lugging crates of hoses, when the wave of dizziness hit so strongly that he almost fell over. He would have too, if Ravi hadn’t grabbed him and held him upright.
“It’s been two weeks, man,” Ravi said. “You need to go to the doctor.”
“I don’t -” Buck started, but Ravi shook his head.
“This keeps up, and it’s going to start affecting you on calls. "
A little voice in the back of Buck’s head nagged him - it was more tiring to do everything these days, including lifting, climbing, and running. Hell, his morning jogs were just about cut out entirely.
“Okay,” Buck said. “Maybe you’re right.”
Gonna miss this while I’m up north fighting wildfires, Tommy texted.
CAL FIRE draft you? Buck asked, and he blamed the flip in his stomach on the nausea. Yeah, that was it.
Like clockwork. Someday I’ll get to see Oregon when it’s not on fire, maybe.
I hear the hiking is amazing. Maybe we can take a trip together sometime. Buck didn’t have time to worry about whether that sounded … too pushy before the doctor walked in.
Buck sat in the parking lot, in his truck. On the passenger seat sat a variety of pamphlets about male carriers, prenatal vitamins, a list of obstetricians who specialized in male carriers and … all of the information about how this pregnancy was going to affect his job.
This pregnancy.
Buck placed a hand on his stomach. This pregnancy.
There wasn’t even a doubt for a moment when the kid had been conceived, and there wasn’t any doubt who the other parent was; there was only one possibility for both accounts.
Buck glanced down at his phone. Tommy was in Oregon by now. Fighting wildfires and risking his life. The last texts they had sent each other was “Be safe.”
He couldn’t send this news over text. He couldn’t risk a call either. What if it caused Tommy to get upset or distracted during the busiest season of the year?
No, it would have to wait until Tommy was back in LA.
He paused for a moment while he tapped the phone, finally asking, When will you be back in LA?
Early October, Tommy texted him back. Maybe we can arrange a hike then?
So two months. Two months to get his life in order, get a house for the kid, and demonstrate that he was an adult.
And figure out how to tell Tommy that they were having a baby.
That was a lot of things to sort. Buck was probably going to have to activate Clipboard Buck to get it all done.
In the meantime, he had to stop by and tell the LAFD HR department that he had to be on light duty. Buck glanced down at the pamphlet about occupational hazards related to his job - heat stress, carbon monoxide, benzene - lifting limits, and activity limits for each stage of pregnancy. As he was just entering the second trimester, he also had a formal work restriction note.
Now, he knew that he could take all of that to Chim. He could. But the last time he’d try to do anything administrative under Chim, it had gotten interfered with, and that wasn’t something that Buck could afford to have happen right now.
“Ah,” he said to Michelle, the nice HR person on the phone. “So Interim Captain Han was that mad that I filed the paperwork with you, huh?”
The surprised laughter on her end didn’t confirm his suspicions - but didn’t deny them, either.
“We do have other positions, of course. At other stations, and at the Academy. Captain Nash placed strong recommendations for your mentoring skills in your file, and Firefighter Panikkar’s yearly reviews also have positive things to say about your teaching. So if you are interested, we do have a temporary position at the academy that may become permanent.”
To say that Buck was surprised was an understatement. Bobby and Ravi had said positive things about his teaching methods? Did they leave out the whole incident with the chain saw?
(“You did a bit more than chase me with a chain saw. Did you forget the pep talks?” Ravi would ask him later, when Buck pressed him about it.)
In either case, Buck ended up taking a teaching position at the Academy for the duration of his pregnancy, until his paternity leave would kick in - most of would be away from the truly fun stuff, because he could hardly chase cadets up ladders with a chainsaw these days - but he could sit on the sidelines and tell them that they are definitely not running fast enough or otherwise offer helpful advice.
He could also sit on the sidelines and worry about how to break the news to Tommy in a month and a half.
“It explains why you can’t stop eating curry and all the fruit. When my mom was carrying me, allegedly, all she ate was fish curry and mango,” Ravi said as he walked around the house, looking at it suspiciously. “This house is not one of mine, but I do know the owner, and he is not a slum lord. His reasons for wanting to sell it to you instead of renting seem valid, and I don’t see anything that would make me say you should say no. I think you’re good. But more importantly, how are the vibes?”
Buck looked around the kitchen one last time. He could see himself in here, cooking meals, kneading bread, listening to his kid - his and Tommy’s kid - prattle on about their day.
Buck grinned at Ravi. “The vibes are perfect. We should get some curry and mango on the way home to celebrate.”
“I love this kid’s cultural confusion,” Ravi said. “I”ll buy you extra naan.”
When you get back, you should come over and let me make you something in the kitchen. I know you’ll be craving homemade food by then. Buck texted at the start of the fourth month of his pregnancy. He attached a picture of his new house, still in various states of being put together - after all, he had to take it slow and watch the lifting and the moving.
Can’t wait to come back, be spoiled on your couch and eat your food. That’s a nice looking kitchen. Looking forward to the rest of the tour.
Buck flushed as he looked at the screen. Was that flirting? Or was he just chronically horny all the time?
Yes. Chronically horny and hungry. All the time. And pukey. And sore.
“Why do you have a box labeled baby’s room?” Maddie asked with a laugh.
“Well, because I’m a carrier,” Buck answered, and then he turned to face her.
The hoodies and cardigans these days, well - they were always kind of emphasizing his belly. These days they were doing an even better job of it.
Maddie just stared at him a moment, then she reached forward and hugged him. “Oh, Buck,” she said. “You are going to make such a great dad.”
“You think so?” he asked.
“I mean, ask Jee. Ask Christopher,” she said.
He’d like to ask Christopher. He’d like to mend that relationship, someday. But it had been a casualty of the relationship between himself and Eddie.
“So … the other parent,” she said, as she carried the box down the hall to the future nursery. “Are they happy about it?”
“He doesn’t know yet,” Buck said. “He went to go fight wildfires before I found out, and I want to tell him in person. He won’t be back until October.”
There was a pause while she put it together. “Tommy, then.”
He still had a lot to do for the nursery. He wondered if he could rope Harry or May into helping him - maybe Ravi.
“Yes,” he said. “Of course it’s Tommy. Has there been anyone else you’d think that I would want to start a family with?”
She started to shrug, and Buck could see the name start to form on her lips, so he interrupted her.
“No,” he said. “I wouldn’t. Not with him.”
She frowned at him. “I just don’t understand - "
“And maybe I don’t understand a lot of your life choices, but I love you, so I support you anyway,” he interrupted again. “And if we want to talk about partners, yours tried to fire me because he got pissed off because I went above his head to request light duty. The only reason he was unsuccessful at it was because he’s only an interim captain. The fact that I like the job the Chief offered me as a transfer instead doesn’t make it any less shitty, Maddie!”
Maddie did wince at that. But her loyalty was to Chimney, because of course it was - just like it had been to Doug before him.
“You just have to look at it from his perspective - "
“Why? Do you ever look at it from Tommy’s?”
Her lips thinned and she crossed her arms. “It’s not the same.”
“It will be in a few months,” Buck reminded her. “So m-maybe g-get used to it.”
It was 4 a.m. on a Tuesday night, and they were supposed to be wrapping up the finishing touches on the nursery when the morning sickness (so poorly named) kicked in, and Buck ended up on his bathroom floor again.
Except this time, May was patting his back as he told her about Bobby’s words about Tommy. “He said he was good people. Eddie and Maddie, they keep trying to argue the point, but - "
“Hey,” May said. “I’d take Bobby Nash’s word over both of them.”
It was a good point.
In the second week of September, May, Harry, Ravi, and Athena bought him a cake that red: Congrats Temporary Instructor Buckley! and they ate it around the kitchen counter at Buck’s new house.
He sent Tommy a picture, and Tommy congratulated him on his new position. Maybe it’s what you need, Tommy texted him, and Buck felt a bit of guilt, because Tommy was still thinking about Buck’s grief - which had taken a very significant back seat since finding out about the kid.
Yeah, it is, Buck texted back.
Then eat a big piece for me - even if it’s not the superior Sicilian Orange cake of my dreams.
When you make it back in one piece, I’ll make you one. In the meantime, I’ll eat two slices for you, Buck promised.
Ravi texted him in the third week of September - a week before the big ultrasound appointment and told Buck that his mother was missing him and his ability to eat half her kitchen in one go.
So of course, Buck ended back at the Panikkar table.
“Oh, I have tried to make curry, and it tastes okay, but it does not taste like this,” he said as he scooped up a generous portion.
Mrs. Panikkar simply smiled. “Of course not,” she said. “It is an old family recipe. I’m sure your family recipes taste better in your hands too.”
Buck thought of Bobby’s lasagna and of his chili. He grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “They taste pretty awesome on my stove.”
She nodded her approval and served him another helping of the fish curry. “Some pregnant people cannot stand fish when they are expecting, but this is all I wanted when I was carrying him as well. Your child has good taste. You and your partner should be proud.”
Buck flushed. “Well, I … my partner is deployed up north.”
“Fighting wildfires,” Ravi said, around a mouthful of naan.
“So I’m waiting til he gets back to tell him,” Buck explained, feeling suddenly shy in front of Ravi’s mother about his life choices.
“Ah, you are nervous,” she noted.
“A little,” he admitted. “We … have had … a complex history.”
“But you speak with him with love,” she said. “Does he do the same of you?”
“Yes,” Ravi answered for him. “What? He does. The two of you just haven’t quite figured it out yet. Except for when you’re in the room for five minutes alone.”
“Ah, youthful indulgences.” Mrs. Panikkar nodded. “Well, children choose the right time to arrive, and they merely require you to love them.”
Love them anyway, Buck thought. He could do that.
He wondered if he should snap a picture and send it to Tommy with the caption: “Surprise!”
No. That would be awful, actually.
Instead, he sent: Hey. You ever think you might want to have kids?
It took Tommy a wild to respond: Abby and I used to talk about it.
Ah. That explained the pause. This wasn’t exactly great territory for them the last time they’d ended up here, was it?
Do you think that was a real want, or just part of the .. whole fake heterosexuality thing?
I don’t know, honestly. By the time I got my job at Harbor, I had almost convinced myself that I was good enough of a man that I wouldn’t repeat all my father’s sins onto my own kids. And by then, it was time to be good enough of a man to accept who I actually was.
Do you think you’d ever be open to having kids with anyone else? Buck asked.
Being a dad doesn’t scare you? With your parents’ history? Tommy texted back.
Buck paused for a long moment and looked down at the screen, then at the ultrasound pictures next to him. He didn’t tell Tommy about the deep dive he’d done about PPD and whether it was genetic. He didn’t tell Tommy that part of him wondered if Daniel’s death had cursed their entire family when it came to being parents, and that the only way he could shake himself out of that was by remembering how happy Jee was.
A little. But not being one scares me more.
That’s very sweet, Evan.
It wasn’t exactly the answer that Buck was looking for - but it wasn’t Tommy running for the hills, either. Buck would take it for now.
Buck’s stomach rolled at the memory of the last time he had tasted the sauce, and he sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Eddie asked. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? Shouldn’t you be just about past morning sickness by now?”
“Let him be, Eddie. When I was carrying your father, I was sick all nine months,” Abuela informed him.
“It’s not morning sickness. It’s the tomatillos,” Buck explained. “Which I told you about, Eddie. I told you I couldn’t handle them, and they made me sick the last time I made enchiladas.”
Eddie shrugged. “I thought they made you sick because you didn’t know how to cook the sauce correctly.”
Buck pinched the bridge of his nose and thought about leaving. Then he thought about puking on Eddie’s floor. That would be a nice, sweet revenge.
But Abuela took his arm and said, “I wish Eddie had told me that. I would have made you something else. No worries, I will make you something the baby can handle.”
“Oh, you don’t have to - "
“Nonsense, Evancito,” she scolded him. “Now, what has our baby been relying on for sustenance, hmm? What have you been able to keep down?”
“Just about everything - but she loves curry and fruit.”
“Curry?” Abuela nodded appreciatively. “So she can handle the spice already. Smart lady.”
Eddie had more sense than to grumble at him while Abuela made him … not exactly curry, but a dish that Ravi’s mother would have called “geographically confused” - eggs, rice flavored with an improvised curry powder (she didn’t care for Eddie’s store bought version, apparently), and a couple of warm tortillas to wrap it all up in. Along with it, she served a big bowl of mango.
He ate it in the kitchen, away from the dining room, where Eddie was eating his enchiladas.
Chris came to sit down next to him.
“Heya, Buck,” he said, sitting down next to him. “I like this baby already. The first thing she did when in my dad’s house was square up to fight. Quality choice.”
Buck laughed. Somehow, he thought Tommy would appreciate that mental image, of his lineage deciding she wanted to throw hands the minute she walked into the Diaz home. “She’s a bit dramatic sometimes. And by sometimes, I mostly mean all day long on my bladder.”
Christopher grinned, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and to a teenager, the idea probably was.
“Now, now, she is merely letting you know she is there,” Abuela said. “God gave you this blessing because you are strong.”
“And because you thought Tommy was hot,” Christopher added. He patted Buck on the shoulder and said, “You’re going to be a great dad, Buck. And Tommy was always nice to me. So I bet he’ll be a good one, too.”
The baby gave a good solid kick in agreement.
The rocking chair was a little larger than Buck had realized, which was unfortunate, because it sat on his porch waiting on him to take it inside when he got home from work.
He knew the chair was above his lifting requirements, and the baby gave a good series of kicks on his bladder to remind him. Now, Ravi was still at work - he knew this, because Ravi had sent him a series of texts this morning about training his new “temporary” partner.
Buck didn’t feel as jealous as he expected he might, but then, he didn’t think would enjoy his job at the academy as much either. In the back of his mind, he was already thinking about going back to work after paternity leave. What would that look like? Would he go back to 48 hour shifts, and putting his life in danger and maybe never seeing the kid grow up?
Would he go back to the station that had become more like his old family than he wanted to admit?
Buck was a little lost in thought as he dialed Harry’s number. He remembered it was a Tuesday in mid-ring and was about to hang-up (because Harry should be in school) when Harry picked up anyway.
“Hey,” Harry said. “What’s up, Buck?”
“H-hey, Harry. Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Ah, you know. Just didn’t feel like going in today. Mental health day.”
“Well… how would your mental health day like to come help me move this rocking chair into the nursery? I’ll buy you a pizza… or I-I’ll cook us up something good, if you’d rather.”
“I can be bribed with pizza and homemade tacos,” Harry said with a laugh. “Your tacos are pretty great.”
“Well… it is a very heavy chair, so that sounds very fair,” Buck told him.
The chair, according to Harry, wasn’t that heavy.
They sat at Buck’s kitchen table, while Buck ate his pineapple pizza (never before and never after, he swore, but right now, the baby wanted it, and she was right - it tasted perfect) and Harry demolished his tacos and “regular pizza.”
“I can’t believe you’re eating pineapple pizza,” Harry said with a sigh. “An abomination.”
“Delicious abomination right now. And princess gets what what princess wants right now.”
Harry shook his head. “Princess is going to be a bit spoiled.”
“Probably,” Buck acknowledged. “Speaking of wayward children…mmm… h-how is school, Harry?”
Harry frowned and poked at his taco.
“I mean, it’s school, right?” Harry said. “Who loves high school?”
“I didn’t mind it,” Buck said. “But it was a distraction for me - for the way things were back at home.”
“Man, how bad did your parents suck that high school was better than home?”
“A lot,” Buck acknowledged. He rubbed his stomach protectively, because this one would never, ever know that kind of treatment. He might screw up a lot, but she’d know she was wanted and loved.
Harry’s face softened a bit. “But you got Bobby. The universe’s apology for your shitty parents was to give you a better dad. At least for a little while.”
Hormones were no joke, especially during this second trimester, and Buck rubbed his eyes with his cardigan. “Yeah,” he said. “For a little while. We both got a great bonus dad for a little while.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. Then he took a long swig of his coke, before he added, “And now, Mom’s busy dealing with her grief by overworking, so I rarely see her. May has her own thing and her own life plan. Dad - dad didn’t even come back for the funeral, despite him and Bobby being friends. He’s so … wrapped up in his new life with … Anyway. What am I supposed to do? Keep going to high school like it matters? Like life is normal?”
“Yes,” Buck said, and he winced internally. This was Bobby’s kid, and he saw him … on a fairly regular basis. He wasn’t aware he was struggling that much (though, to be fair, he had been dealing with … a lot with the baby.) “H-hey, you aren’t thinking about dropping out, are you?”
“Can’t for another week. Not until I’m 18.”
“Hey - hey, no. Listen to me. No, Harry.”
Stubborn brown eyes looked across the table at him, and Buck groaned. This was his penance for selling his tuition money to buy a motorcycle, wasn’t it? Well, this was high school so much more serious than community college.
“Listen to me,” Buck said. “This hurt, this f-frustration. It’s all … normal. I feel it too, Harry. But what you’re planning on doing? That is going to affect the rest of your life. The jobs you can get, the places you can go, the dreams you can … dream.” He winced. That sounded lame. “You only have another year, Harry. You can tough this out.”
“It just seems so pointless!” Harry said. “I could go full time at Starbucks if I quit now.”
“H-harry, come on. Is that what you want to do? Listen t-to people complain about their coffee orders for the rest of your life?”
Harry poked his taco again. “They do bitch a lot.”
“So stick it out,” Buck said. “And if it gets to be too much or feels too pointless, come find me and talk to me about it.”
“You are kind of busy and going to be busier,” Harry said, gesturing to Buck’s stomach.
“I’m never going to be too busy to listen,” Buck said. He held up his pinkie. “I pinkie promise, and there’s no power greater in the universe than a Buckley pinkie promise.”
“You are ridiculous.” But Harry did join his pinkie.
I ate a pineapple pizza and stopped Harry from dropping out of school today, Buck texted Tommy later that night.
The latter gets you get out of jail points for the former came the reply.
Yeah, well, your offspring is doing this to me, Buck thought with delight, and she gave a good kick to let him know that was a mean thing to think. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, peanut.” He paused. “Well, you’re not exactly peanut sized anymore, are you? Mmm. You’re more my little bell pepper. Maybe a mango. Probably a mango, since I’ve eaten my body weight in them since you’ve taken up residence in there.”
The baby kicked in reply, as if to say, damn right.
How is Oregon? Buck texted Tommy.
I miss LA. I miss the people in LA. Tommy sent him a selfie. He looked tired, but fortunately, Tommy always looked extra hot when he was tired, and god, the hormones were a bitch right now.
Doesn’t look like you’re getting a lot of sleep.
Yeah, these temporary cots are not the best for my old man age, Tommy texted back.
Buck glanced over to the empty pillow beside him, thought about it for a minute, then took a shot of the empty pillow. This is more comfortable, he texted.
That… makes me miss LA even more.
But Harry had been raised in part by both Athena Grant and Bobby Nash - so when he made a promise, he kept it.
If that meant he started showing up at the tail end of Buck’s shift and watching fire drills…. well, that wasn’t Buck’s fault (at least, that is what he would tell Athena later.)
If those drills meant that he turned to Buck at the beginning of October and said, “When I do graduate, I want to join the fire academy,” well, that wasn’t Buck’s fault (at least, that was what he would tell Athena later.)
If Buck promised to help train him to get him into shape between now and graduation day… well… okay, that may have been Buck’s fault, actually.
Hey, I’m coming home! Just got the discharge orders. Should be back in town by Thursday.
Buck was in the middle of overseeing a drill when he got the text. This was it, then. He’d had months and still had no idea how he was going to drop the news to Tommy.
But oh, he wanted to.
I bet you can’t wait to feel a real bed and eat real food again, Buck texted back.
Well, there are some other things I’m looking forward to, too.
Buck hoped that remained true, once he told Tommy the news. How’s Saturday sound for dinner? I’ll cook us something, and we can talk.
Saturday sounds great, Evan.