Archive of Our Own ^beta

1. Carla 

Hen’s always considered herself a pretty good judge of people. 

It’s part of the job, really. Sizing up a scene, reading between the lines, and figuring out who’s holding back the truth. She’s seen too many rookies mistake confidence for competence, and from the first moment she stepped foot into the 118, she promised that she’d never be like that. She always stands in the background, gathering all of the facts before making an assumption. Because in this field, assumptions kill. Hen has never come up against a puzzle she couldn't figure out. Until she met Evan Buckley, or Buck, as the new probie liked to be called. The man was a walking contradiction and despite all the pushing, he still hadn’t divulged much to the team despite having been on the job for the last 8 months. In many ways she thinks Buck is great, the perfect addition to the team that has had too many floaters over the last year since Tommy transferred to Harbour. She was excited to maybe have a probie stick around, but she isn’t too sure that Buck is the right one, even if his instincts are good. 

He’s too good, for one. Eager to please. Quick to apologize. Always first to volunteer and last to complain. There’s something bubbling under the surface—something wound tight, something waiting—and Hen’s been watching, waiting for the snap. But it never comes. What she does notice is the way Buck avoids questions that aren’t work-related. No social media. No talk of dating. And whenever Chim annoys him about weekend plans, Buck just shrugs and says he has someone waiting on him. “Partner,” he says, and it’s the only thing they can get out of him about his personal life. Everything else feels like it’s under lock and key. 

He doesn’t say boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Or even spouse. Just “partner,” said twice as a vague explanation as to why he was skipping out on yet another 118 family dinner at Bobby and Athena’s. 

So of course they all start guessing, because a firehouse is nothing if not full of gossips. 

Hen doesn’t push. She lets Chim be the nosy one. Lets Bobby raise an eyebrow now and then. But she files it all away; the mystery of Buck’s home life, the way he disappears promptly after every shift, never lingering for post-shift beers. Like he’s got somewhere important to be.

She doesn’t expect the mystery to walk through the station doors in scrubs and curls, holding a Tupperware container like she owns the place. She also didn’t expect to have more questions than answers by the time all was said and done. 

Hen’s mid-charting when it happens. It’s a slow afternoon, no calls in the last four hours, and Chim’s doing something ridiculous with the air fryer. The front bay door is cracked open to let in the breeze, and Buck’s outside fiddling with the hoses, trying to find the best way to roll them as if the technique they’ve been using for years isn’t efficient enough. Hen herself is catching up on paperwork from yesterday’s med calls and waiting for Bobby to assign her some new cleaning tasks, probably something that they don’t usually get to during those busy, back to back type of shifts. 

“Evan!”

The voice rings out in the bay, warm and familiar if not a bit exasperated. Hen looks up just as Buck straightens, squinting into the sunlight. Then he grins, throwing the hoses down and starting the trek over to the  figure the voice has come from. “Carla?” His tone is confused but not upset and Hen can’t help it, she puts down her paperwork so she can watch from the corner. 

Their probie crosses the bay in a few easy strides, takes the container she’s holding, and bumps her shoulder affectionately. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here!”

“You left your lunch on the counter,” Carla says, like this is a well-worn routine. “Again.”

“Sorry,” Buck mumbles. “Mornings are chaotic lately. Ya know with–”

“Yeah, I know,” she cuts him off, but her tone is fond, not annoyed. “Someone’s got a math test tomorrow, and someone else forgot to sign his permission slip.” She produces a piece of paper from her bag and Hen watches with amusement as Buck leans up against the wall to sign, not even looking at the contents of the thing. 

Hen watches from her spot a few feet away, curiosity sharpening.

“Who’s that?” Chim asks, appearing beside her with half a fried dumpling in hand.

“I don’t know,” Hen says, “but something tells me that I think we just met the mystery partner.”

They watch as Buck laughs at something Carla says. She’s touching his arm, her body angled toward his like they’re more than just close. Like they belong in each other’s orbit. Buck’s grin is wide and boyish, a kind of happiness Hen hasn’t seen on him before. She’s a bit… older than Hen would have thought Buck would go for. But, who is she to judge? As long as he’s happy, Hen’s happy. 

“Oh yeah,” Chim nods. “They’re definitely a thing.”

Hen narrows her eyes as if still trying to figure out if it’s true or not. “Maybe.”

They’re still watching when Buck gestures them over, clearly aware of the peanut gallery.

“Hen, Chim–this is Carla. She’s, uh…”

“I’m his housekeeper-slash-therapist-slash-reality check,” Carla says smoothly. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Thanks for feeding our probie,” Chim grins. “He eats like a raccoon digging in a dumpster.”

“He’s got a metabolism that defies science,” Carla says. “I’m just trying to keep him from falling over during shifts.”

Hen chuckles, but there’s something tugging at her gut. “So you two live together?”

Buck hesitates. “Sort of. She comes by most days.”

“Some days,” Carla corrects. “Depending on how things are going with the kiddo”

Chim perks up. “You have a kid ?”

Hen nearly chokes on her water.

Buck goes faintly pink. “Yeah.”

There’s a long pause as they all look at each other. Buck’s cheeks are still dusted with a rosy hue and Hen knows that she’s been staring for a beat too long. It’s just–of all the things she thought the newbie would be hiding, a kid wasn’t one of them. 

“You… have a kid,” she repeated slowly, breaking the awkward silence that's fallen over the group.

Buck nods, scratching the back of his neck. “Christopher. He’s seven. He’s… mine.”

He says it with a quiet certainty, and it sends a jolt through Hen’s chest. Not a joke. Not borrowed. Not a half-sibling or someone else’s cousin. His . The way he says it makes it sound like there’s more to the story, but she chooses not to push. Something tells her it isn’t the time. 

Carla snorts. “You’re really bad at this, you know that?”

“I didn’t want to make it a thing,” Buck mutters. “It’s not like—I mean, I didn’t give birth to him or anything.”

“Obviously,” Chim says.

Hen’s head is spinning. “You’re a dad?”

Buck’s eyes soften. “I’m his parent,” he says with conviction. And, okay, that’s not quite an answer but it’s enough for Hen, even if she still has 100 more questions. 

Carla takes pity on both of them with a roll of her eyes and a slap to Buck’s shoulder. “Christopher has cerebral palsy. I’ve been his home care nurse since he was five and they first moved here. When his dad deployed, Evan stepped in full time.”

Hen’s brain does some fast rewiring. “So… you’re co-parenting?”

Buck smiles, a little sheepish. “Yeah.”

“With your partner.”

Carla gives a vague smile. “That’s right.”

Neither of them give a name, but with the soft smile that graces Buck’s face, she assumes that he must really be in love. Hen knows now that Carla isn’t the partner, and she wonders what Buck’s girlfriend must be like if she has a seven year old and Buck at home. But, that’s not really her business so she leaves it alone. 

She watches as Carla kisses Buck’s cheek when she says goodbye and Hen realizes that she maybe had misjudged Buck at first. Because this isn’t a young frat boy probie trying to earn his stripes and prove himself. No, this is a man with a life. A child. A partnership. He’s got responsibilities and a quiet kind of love that’s wrapped in layers and hidden quietly, like it’s something precious. 

And Hen?

Hen’s definitely going to figure out who’s waiting for Buck at home.

2. Maddie 

Hen isn’t spying. Or, not exactly. 

No, she’s just observant. Perceptive. Good at reading between the lines. It’s a necessary skill as a paramedic. So what if she uses it to try and gain more insight into the new probies’ life? The only issue is that Buck’s entire life is a little… blurry. Every time Hen thinks she has a handle on it, something happens that smudges the edges of the perfect pictures she’s come to paint. 

First Carla, now this.

Hen’s sipping coffee in the loft when she hears it: a burst of childish laughter echoing through the station, followed by Buck’s voice rising in delighted surprise.

“Chris!”

There’s a flurry of movement and Hen gets up and makes it downstairs just in time to see Buck hoisting a child up into the sky. His face is bright as he spins them both in the middle of the bay, like this has been the best part of his whole week. 

“You got so big,” Buck teases, squeezing the kid tight. “What did your aunt feed you? Miracle grow?”

Chris giggles against Buck’s shoulder. “Nooooo, we had waffles!”

“Waffles? What kind of nutrition plan is that?”

Hen leans against the wall and watches the entire scene with soft surprise as it plays out in front of her. This must be the kid. This must be Christopher. 

Buck’s eyes are lit up like it’s Christmas morning. There’s no hesitation, no awkwardness, no sense of unfamiliarity. He holds the boy like second nature, his hips angled automatically, arm braced strongly around him, and face buried in dark curls like he can’t get enough of the contact. This is definitely his kid. 

And following them in, smiling brightly with a travel mug in hand, is a woman Hen hasn’t met before. She’s tall, poised, with warm brown eyes and a calm presence that Hen instantly trusts.

The others filter in—Chim, Bobby, Ravi—and Buck sets Chris down on his feet carefully. He’s using forearm crutches, Hen notices, but moves with the confidence of someone who knows his body inside and out. It’s impressive at only seven years old that the kid seems to be doing so well with aides like that. She’s met teenagers and even adults that still struggle sometimes. It just speaks to how good of a dad Buck must be to ensure Christopher has everything he needs to be successful. 

“Guys,” Buck says, turning to the group, “this is Chris,” the little boy waves shyly before tucking himself between his dad’s legs. “And this is Maddie, my sister.” 

Hen straightens. Sister. Okay. So, not the girlfriend then. Interesting. 

Maddie smiles and waves. “Hope it’s okay we stopped by. Someone’s been asking to see the firetrucks all week.”

“And Papa!” Chris adds with a grin.

“You’ve got great taste, kid,” Chim says, already crouching down to Chris’ level. “Wanna sit in the driver’s seat?”

Chris gasps, looking up at Buck for permission.

“Go ahead,” Buck says gently. “But only if you promise not to drive off without me.”

Hen watches as Chris takes Chim’s hand and heads straight for the engine like he owns it. Buck lingers behind, eyes tracking his every step, shoulders sagging like a weight had been lifted off.

“You weren’t kidding,” Hen murmurs as she approaches, laying a hand on the probie’s shoulder. “He’s amazing.”

Buck glances at her, a quiet pride etched in every line of his face. “He really is.”

Maddie comes up beside them. “He’s been having a good stretch. No seizures in over a month, school’s going well, and we even made it through bedtime last night without a meltdown.”

Hen looks between them. “You live together?”

“I’m just visiting this week,” Maddie says easily. “I try to help when I can.”

Something about the phrasing tugs at Hen’s curiosity again. “Carla had mentioned that Chris’s bio dad was deployed. Must be hard to explain to such a small kiddo why his dad isn't around.”

Buck’s expression shifts for a fraction of a second, like someone’s opened a drawer he thought was closed. But he doesn’t say anything.

Maddie jumps in smoothly, obviously sensing her brother's discomfort at the line of questioning. “Yeah, it’s been a few months now. We’ve got a pretty solid routine going, though.”

Hen nods, slowly. She wants to ask more, but then Chris lets out a delighted squeal from the front seat of the engine, and Buck’s attention swivels immediately.

“You’re letting him touch the horn?” Buck calls.

Chim yells back, “Maybe!”

The blast of sound is immediate. Maddie winces. Buck just laughs.

“He’s not gonna let me live that down,” Buck says to no one in particular.

Hen watches him drift back toward the truck. Watches the way Chris lights up under his attention, the casual intimacy in the way Buck steadies him as he climbs down, ruffles his hair, adjusts his crutches without making a big deal out of it.

This isn’t a guy who’s helping raise a kid. This is a dad, full stop. 

Hen leans toward Maddie, keeping her voice low. “So… Buck doesn’t talk much about home.”

Maddie gives her a knowing smile. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“He mentioned a partner,” Hen says carefully. “Carla did too. No name though, I know it’s driving Chim nuts trying to figure it all out.” 

Maddie just  laughs. “He’s protective. It’s not just about him anymore, you know? It’s about Chris. About keeping things quiet and safe until–uh–ya know, until things settle.”

Hen watches the way Buck crouches to tie Chris’ shoelace without being asked. He listens carefully as Chris excitedly tells him about his science project. The kind of listening that comes with long nights, messy mornings, and a heart wide open. It reminds her of what it’s like to watch Karen with Denny. 

“So,” Hen says slowly, “you’re not the partner.”

Maddie arches an eyebrow. “I love my brother, but absolutely not .”

Hen just grins in response. 

They stand in silence for a moment before Maddie sips her coffee. “He’s married, you know,” she says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

Hen’s heart does a little jump.

Married.

She tries to keep her face neutral. “Oh?”

Maddie nods. “They got married fast. Some people thought it was reckless, but… you meet them together, and it just makes sense . They’re each other’s anchor. It was right after the first deployment. They all knew that Evan was going to stay and that Chris would need the help with Eddie being gone.”

Hen’s brain is on fire. Married. Bio day deployed. Eddie. Buck stepping up. She tries to file away all the little pieces of information that she’s getting to try and make sense of it all later. If later she determined that Buck had married a single mom before her baby daddy’s deployment, well, that was her own business. Chim happened to agree. At least they had one name now; Eddie. Chris’s bio dad who was currently deployed while Buck and his wife raised the little boy. She hoped that they all got along, for Christopher’s sake.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Maddie continues softly, unaware of Hen’s inner turmoil. “Being there for Chris all the time. Running a household. Working this job. He still shows up for everyone with a smile on his face. I’m sure he’d even step in to fix the neighbors sink if they asked. That’s just the kind of guy he is.”

Hen swallows around something warm and heavy in her chest.

She’s been watching Buck for weeks, waiting for him to break or to let something slip. And instead, he’s been carrying this whole life outside the station on his shoulders. He’d been doing it by himself, never asking for anything in return and never letting any of them help shoulder it. 

Until now.

Chris is giggling as Buck swings him up again and pretends to use him as a dumbbell. Maddie laughs, crossing over to the truck so she can be closer to her brother and nephew. 

Hen sees it then, clearly: a family . Not hypothetical. Not theoretical. Real.

And Buck?

He’s not just the probie anymore.

He’s a husband. A father. A man building a life that’s rooted in love and devotion and absolute, unshakable loyalty.

Hen’s more determined than ever to find out who this mystery partner is.

Because whoever they are, they’ve got Buck’s whole heart—and Hen’s ready to meet the person who can keep pace with someone like him. 

3. Taylor 

Sundays off are rare, sacred things. Hen guards hers like gold.

So when the morning starts with sunshine, clear skies, and no emergencies or alarms to answer, she lets herself slip fully into the weekend rhythm. Soft pants, easygoing music, and the gentle hum of Denny playing a game on the couch. Karen’s still asleep upstairs, the house peaceful.

Hen almost stays in.

But the need for fresh peaches and that bakery stand’s seasonal scones pulls her toward the farmers market instead, tote bag over one shoulder and sunglasses perched on her nose. She loves it here, it’s definitely one of these guilty pleasure things. She comes here when she wants to have an easy morning alone before going home to whatever awaits her for a day of family fun. 

The place is already buzzing when she arrives; neighbors and dogs and strollers everywhere. A string band plays near the corner. Someone's blowing bubbles for kids to chase through the stalls. It smells like kettle corn and citrus. She lets herself fall into a rhythm of tranquility. It’s when she’s halfway through picking out nectarines that she hears someone call her name.

“Hen! Hey! Hen!”

She looks up, surprised, and there’s Taylor Kelly waving enthusiastically as she jogs toward her, dressed in high-waisted shorts, aviators, and a tank top that probably cost more than Hen’s entire outfit. She’s holding two smoothies and smiling like they’re old friends instead of occasional acquaintances from the number of times she’s covered the emergencies the station has responded to.

Hen blinks. “Taylor?”

“Wow, what are the odds?” the redhead offers her a quick hug, balancing both drinks expertly. “Didn’t expect to run into anyone from the 118 here.”

Hen chuckles. “I live ten minutes from here. You?”

“Oh, just tagging along today.” Taylor tips her chin toward the other side of the plaza. “Little family outing.”

Hen glances in that direction and nearly has to do a double take.

Because standing under a white canopy by the honey stand is Buck–dressed in board shorts and a faded NASA t-shirt, face lit up in a wide grin as he crouches down beside a kid with chocolate on his cheek and a lemonade in his hand.

Oh, she’s here with Buck and Christopher. Family outing, rings in her head. Surely, Buck would have told them if his mystery partner was Taylor Kelly. There’s no way that he would have hidden that or even been able to. She watches some more as Taylor’s eyes go soft as she watches Buck be so attentive with their son. 

She hasn’t seen Chris since Maddie brought him by the station a couple weeks back, and even then it was a whirlwind. But now, in the open air and weekend sunlight, it’s undeniable how much love radiates off Buck as he gently wipes something from Chris’s shirt, then taps his nose with a fond look.

“You’re here with them?” Hen asks, trying to subtly get a bit more information out of the reporter. 

“Yep,” Taylor says, sipping her smoothie. “It’s kind of our Sunday thing. Well, when everyone’s around.”

Hen frowns slightly. “Everyone?”

Taylor glances over her shoulder. “We’ve got a good little rhythm going. Especially when they're home.”

Hen’s ears perk up. “ They? ”

Taylor just smiles mysteriously. “Eddie’s deployed again for a few months, but when he’s back, it’s all game nights and beach weekends. You should see it. I keep telling Buck to let me do a feature on them.”

Hen watches as Buck tosses Chris onto his shoulders, and the kid shrieks with laughter.

Something settles heavy in her chest. A thought that’s been forming for weeks now.

“You’ve known Buck a long time, huh?” Hen asks casually.

“Long enough.” Taylor’s smile softens. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure about him when we first met. All that chaos, you know? But watching him with Chris, with everything he’s built? He’s the real deal.”

Hen nods slowly. “So you’re close with the family?”

Taylor shrugs. “As close as anyone outside of it can be. Buck’s got a little circle and he doesn’t let many in. I’m lucky he tolerates me.”

Hen glances at her sidelong. “I’m sorry but, is Christopher not your kid? I thought–”

Taylor actually laughs . “Oh God, no. I mean, I love him. He’s one of my favorite people, but I’ve never been in the running for that. He’s had his person for a long time.”

Hen’s eyebrows shoot up and she tries to school her expression into something not as surprised. She should know better by now than to expect that the answer to Buck’s mystery woman isn't going to just fall in her lap on a lazy Sunday morning. 

Across the plaza, Buck lets Chris slide down his back and then catches him at the last second like he’s done it a hundred times. Taylor watches the scene fondly.

“You ever meet someone and just know they were supposed to be a dad?” she says, more to herself than to Hen.

“Yeah,” Hen says softly. “I think I have.”

They cross the path toward the boys, Taylor waving as Chris spots her.

“Taylor!” he chirps, reaching for her hand.

“Hey, buddy. Save any lemonade for me?”

Chris giggles and wipes his mouth. “Nope.”

Taylor tousles his curls. “That’s rude, kiddo. But I respect it.”

Hen approaches slower. Buck sees her and lights up.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

“Fresh fruit. But I’m clearly underdressed for the social event of the season.”

Buck grins. “You met my little monster already.”

Chris beams up at her. “Hi, Miss Hen!”

“Hey, sweetie.” Hen crouches to his level. “You having fun?”

“Yup! We got cookies and saw a dog wearing sunglasses.”

Hen chuckles. “Now that’s a perfect Sunday.”

Taylor takes her smoothie back from Chris, who’d been holding it like a tiny assistant. “We’re grabbing tamales next. You should come.”

Buck raises a brow. “You trying to bribe my coworkers with food again?”

“I’m trying to be loved!”

Hen watches the easy way they all move together, like they’ve done this before—like this is normal. And despite Taylor’s presence, despite all the questions she still doesn’t have answers to, Hen sees it clearly in the way Buck slings an arm protectively around Chris, the way Taylor lets them lead.

She still doesn’t know who she is—the partner Buck talks about in vague, lovingly guarded terms. But this ? This is a glimpse of the life he’s kept tucked close.

And for the first time, Hen doesn’t feel frustrated about it.

She just feels honored to get to  witness it.

4. Shannon

Saturdays at the station either move like molasses or crash down in chaos. There’s never a comfortable in-between.

This one has leaned heavily into slow and sticky. One minor call all morning. Bobby’s in the kitchen humming to himself, putting way too much cinnamon into something he’s labeled as “experimental.” Ravi is half-asleep on the bench by the lockers, and Chim’s arguing with the espresso machine again.

Hen’s mid-scroll on her phone, pretending not to care about the new housing listings her wife keeps sending, when the station’s front doors burst open with a thud.

“I need Buck!”

The voice is sharp, panicked, more than anything, and it cuts through the quiet like a siren.

Hen turns instinctively, already pushing to her feet.

A woman rushes in, maybe a few years older than Buck himself, with wind-swept hair and a slightly unzipped hoodie over jeans and one of those god-awful touristy LA t-shirts. There’s something familiar about her, though Hen can’t place it right away.

She looks around wildly, eyes landing on Hen. “Is Buck here?” she asks again, breathless. “I’ve been trying him–I– there was an–an–a–a– accident at school. He’s okay, just a fall, but he’s freaked out and asking for Buck and I couldn’t get through—”

“Whoa, okay,” Hen says quickly, already walking toward her. “Slow down. You’re…?”

“Shannon. I’m Chris’ mom.”

Chris .

Hen’s brain spins, putting pieces together. Buck’s kid . Well, sort of. The kid Buck treats like his own, even if Buck never explains the whole situation beyond “his dad is deployed,” and “we’re family, that’s all that matters.” 

Hen hadn’t expected to meet his wife like this. “Okay,” she says as she guides Shannon to the front of the rig to sit down. “He’s upstairs, I’ll grab him.”

But before Hen can even radio, thunderous footsteps pound down from the loft.

“Shan?” Buck calls, already halfway down, barefoot and still damp from a shower, leaving slick drops of water in his wake. “What happened?”

“He fell. They said it’s nothing serious, just a scare. I’m sorry—I just—I didn’t know who else to call, and he was crying and asking for you, and I couldn’t reach you and—”

Buck doesn’t even pause to put on socks, just shoves his damp feet into the shoes by the edge of the locker room. “You did the right thing,” he says, disappearing for a moment into the locker room itself where he rummages around for his keys and a hoodie. “Let’s go.”

Hen steps in. “Is he at the ER?”

Shannon shakes her head. “Still at the school, nurse’s office. They said we could take him home.”

Buck’s halfway out the door already, running towards his jeep without a care in the world. Shannon hurries after him, tossing an apologetic smile over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for barging in. Just–can you tell his captain what happened? I don't want him to get in trouble.”

“Wait, Shannon!” Hen calls out before she can disappear too. “Just to clarify for Bobby ya know–you’re...?”

Shannon stops mid-step. “Chris’ mom, yeah.”

“I mean... are you Buck’s...?”

Shannon blinks. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened.

“Oh! Oh my god, no.” She actually laughs . “What? No. Definitely not. No offense, he’s great, but no.”

Hen blinks, thrown by the laugh. “Sorry. I just assumed–”

“Everyone does.” Shannon waves it off. “I promise you, Buck is happily married. Just not to me.”

Hen raises a brow. “So you’re not...?”

“Nope. Just friends. Co-parenting, in our weird way.” She pauses and looks behind her before whispering. “You do know that uh– Buck’s married to a man, right?”

Hen’s mouth opens, to say what , she isn’t sure, but Shannon’s phone rings in her pocket.

She pulls it out, grimacing. “School again. Probably just confirming that we’re on our way.”

She answers on the move, jogging after Buck. “Hello? Yes—yes, we’re on our way now—thank you—”

And just like that, she’s gone. Out the door. No room for follow-ups. No elaboration. Hen’s left in the silence, staring at the door like it might offer her a few answers if she looks hard enough.

Behind her, Ravi mutters, “Well, that was a plot twist.”

Chim rounds the corner with a protein bar halfway to his mouth. “Did I hear that right?”

“If you mean ‘Buck is married to a man, then yes,” Hen says.

Bobby appears from the kitchen, dish towel in hand. “Huh.”

“That’s it ?” Hen throws her hands in the air. “Everyone around here is acting like it’s no big deal, and I’m out here trying to solve a mystery.”

Ravi shrugs. “Honestly, I kind of assumed he was gay. Or bi. Or something. He just doesn’t exactly scream straight man.”

Hen lets out a frustrated noise. “You assumed ?!  Maddie refused to say anything. Carla dodged the whole topic. Taylor danced around it at the farmers market like she was on a reality show. And now Shannon strolls in and casually drops married to a man and disappears like this is normal .”

“Well, it kind of is,” Bobby says mildly.

Hen shoots him a look.

“I know it is, Bobby. That’s not the point.”

Chim leans against the counter. “Do we think we’ve met the husband and just didn’t know?”

“I don’t think so,” Ravi says, eyes narrowing. “I’d remember. Unless he’s like... one of those quiet hot people who just lurks in corners.”

Hen groans and slumps back on the couch.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” she says.

5. Josh 

It’s one of those rare nights when everyone’s off shift, no one’s on call, and the mood is light enough to justify a round–or three–at the kind of bar that doesn’t smell like regret and bad decisions.

Hen had to be convinced to come out. Something about laundry and paperwork and maybe finally sleeping a full eight hours. But Chim had pulled his sad face, and Bobby had promised not to talk about fire codes all night, and so here she is, with a glass of something fruity and overpriced, wedged between Chim and Ravi in a booth that’s too small for all of them.

Across the table, Buck is, predictably, radiant. Somehow glowing under the dim, amber-hued lighting, dressed in a button-down shirt that probably cost more than Hen’s monthly coffee budget. He’s got that effortlessly charming thing going on tonight with flushed cheeks and ruffled hair as he laughs at something ridiculous Chim has said.

He rarely comes out like this. Hen knows that. He usually has an excuse. Chris, or paperwork, or just “plans.” But tonight he’s here, laughing with his whole chest, sipping a dark beer and catching the eye of more than one person across the bar. He doesn’t let his eyes linger on anyone too long, but she can tell that others are interested in him. He has that kind of gravitational pull. 

And then, someone walks in.

Hen doesn’t notice at first. The door opens, the music swells, the crowd shifts.

But Buck glances up, and lights up . He gets to his feet immediately, grinning, and waves someone over. Hen turns to look.

The man making his way toward their booth is sharp-featured, stylish, and clearly comfortable in his own skin. Black jeans, dark red t-shirt, a leather jacket draped over one arm. He’s smirking, like he knows every eye is on him, and maybe enjoys it.

He stops right beside Buck, and without thinking, Buck throws an arm around him in a casual, familiar arc and pulls him into a hug.

Hen’s eyes narrow.

“Oh my god,” Chim says under his breath. “Is that—?”

“ Is that him? ” Hen hisses back. “ Is that The Husband? ”

Ravi leans forward so fast he nearly spills Hen’s drink. “He looks like he walked off a runway.”

Buck pulls the guy into the booth next to him, and introductions are barely halfway through before Hen blurts, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

The guy arches an eyebrow, clearly not offended. “Josh,” he says. “Friend of Buck’s.”

“Friend?” Chim says, too loud to be subtle.

Josh grins wider. “Yes. Just a friend.”

“You sure?” Ravi asks skeptically. “Because Buck hugged you like he missed you in a biblical sense.”

Josh lets out a bark of laughter. “I’m sure.”

Hen, arms crossed, levels Buck with a look. “You wanna confirm or deny anything?”

Buck just raises his beer to his lips and says, “Josh works dispatch. We go way back.”

“You do realize,” Hen says slowly, “that you two sitting all cozy like this looks very married.”

Josh snorts. “God, I wish I was married to Buck. Do you know how many people would kill to lock that down?”

“ Josh ,” Buck warns, a slight pink to his cheeks, but he’s still smiling.

“No, I mean it,” Josh continues. “This man is absurd. Handsome, heroic, and makes a killer carbonara. And he’s got the whole brooding ‘soft dad’ thing going on? It’s criminal.”

Buck tips his head back and groans. “Josh, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying, he makes an excellent husband. Just not to me.”

Hen squints. “So you’re not…?”

“Nope,” Josh says, popping the ‘p.’ “Strictly platonic. We flirt, we share food, he cries at Pixar movies with me. End of story.”

Ravi raises his hand. “So you are gay, though?”

Josh just raises his glass with a smirk. 

“And Buck is...?”

Josh smiles, toothy and conspiratorial. “Not mine to say.”

Hen throws up her hands. “Why is everyone like this?!.”

Josh turns to Buck. “You haven’t told them?”

Buck shrugs. “They haven’t asked the right questions.”

Hen looks like she’s about to combust. “ What is the right question?!”

“Not that one,” Buck says cheerfully.

Josh grins and nudges him. “God, you’re such a little shit. No wonder I didn’t marry you.”

“You proposed once,” Buck retorts, without looking up from his beer.

“I was drunk and you were wearing those stupid board shorts.”

“You said they were sexy!”

“Because I thought you were crying.”

Hen looks at Chim. Chim looks at Ravi. Ravi has already opened the Notes app on his phone, probably trying to draw a web of connections like this is a crime scene and he’s the only one with a chance at solving the murder.

Josh turns back to the group with a shrug. “So, yeah. Not his husband. Not even close. Just here for the beer and the gossip.”

Hen leans in. “Okay, but have you met his husband?”

Josh goes quiet for a beat, then sips his drink.

“Nice try,” he says. “But my loyalty is to the drama.”

“You’re all insane,” Hen says, pointing around the table. “Every one of you.”

Josh raises his glass again. “To insanity.”

They all clink their drinks, and the moment moves on; more laughter, more teasing, Buck slipping out to take a call from home, Chim and Ravi trying to convince Josh to share more dispatch stories.

But later, when they’ve all had one drink too many and the lights are dimming, Hen corners Josh by the bar.

“Be honest,” she says. “Just a hint. What’s he like? Buck’s husband?”

Josh grins, slow and sharklike, before simply shrugging and walking away. 

Leaving Hen with absolutely nothing.

+1. The Man, The Myth, The Legend

Hen’s day is already weird. 

It started when she got up that morning, her alarm not going off the way it was supposed to. Karen had basically tipped her out of bed, yelling that Denny was going to be late for school. On her way she’d stopped at Jurassic Magic only to be told they were out of her favorite Matcha Americano from their feature menu. It’s okay, their coffee is overpriced anyway, but the point stands that she is under caffeinated and already annoyed with the day. Then she actually got to work. 

Buck’s actually early. Which isn’t a bad thing, not necessarily. But, he’s never early. He’s never late either, but he’s always right on time for his shift, stepping into the station already in uniform. Today, however, he strode in 20 minutes early and changed in the locker room with the rest of the shift. 

He’s got that restless energy that means he’s barely slept, but instead of hiding it with coffee and sarcasm, like Hen is doing, he’s almost cheerful. Humming. Rearranging the same pile of paperwork on the kitchen counter with unnecessary enthusiasm. At one point, he even wiped down the coffee machine without being asked.

Hen raises an eyebrow. “You win the lottery or something?”

Buck shrugs, but the corners of his mouth twitch up, as he tries to hide his smile. “Nope. Just a good morning.”

Which is suspicious.

But before Hen can press, Bobby comes in barking orders about rig checks and inventory and Ravi asks if he’s allowed to use the weight room if he’s already done his chores, and the day kicks into motion like usual. So, Buck’s weird mood and Hen’s own frustration fades into the background as they all get to work.

It’s hours later when it happens. The bay doors are open, the engines gleaming in the sunlight, and Hen is walking back from the ambulance when she hears voices near the front entrance; one familiar and bright, the other low and quiet, but warm.

Then Buck’s voice rises, surprised and disbelieving.

“ What the hell ?”

Hen rounds the corner just in time to see Buck launching himself across the floor in a blur of motion, colliding with a man in fatigues with a duffle bag set at his feet. 

Hen stops dead as the man catches Buck easily in his arms, laughing as they both stumble backwards, the force of it all nearly knocking the two of them over. Buck clutches the back of his neck, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder. There’s a tension in him that releases all at once, his shoulders falling, and for the first time since she’s met him, Hen thinks that Buck finally looks truly relaxed. 

“Missed you too,” the man says quietly as he grips their probie tightly, arms wrapping around him, hands falling low on Buck’s hips. 

They stay like that for a second too long, and Hen’s stomach flips. 

Eddie is Chris’s biological father. 

His dad is deployed. 

Until it all–settles. 

She knows that uniform. She knows the way  Buck is holding him. She knows the way everyone at this station has been doing mental gymnastics around a single, persistent mystery. She puts the puzzle pieces together slowly but surely, realizing that this man–Eddie she assumes through context clues–is Buck’s partner. Buck’s husband. And, it answers so many questions that she never actually asked. 

She steps forward slowly. “Buck?”

He turns, beaming like the sun. “Hen—uh—this is—”

“Let me guess,” she cuts in, already smiling. “The husband.”

The man straightens slightly. “That obvious?”

Buck snorts.

Hen offers her hand. “Henrietta Wilson, but everyone calls me Hen. Paramedic, team mom, and accidental investigator of your existence.”

He grins and shakes her hand. “Eddie Diaz.”

Buck groans and hides his face again in Eddie’s shoulder when he takes a look at Hen’s face. “I was gonna tell you. Eventually. Probably.”

Eddie looks at him, amused. “How’d you manage to keep it quiet this long? Usually you can’t go two days without mentioning me to someone.”

“I–” Bucks looks down, a little embarrassed, with red staining his cheeks. “It’s hard when you’re deployed. I don’t know what to tell people, especially with Chris ya know? And we have enough help so I just–I don’t know.”

“Did you tell them anything?” 

Hen answers for him. “He didn’t. We just kept getting puzzle pieces from literally everyone but him.”

Eddie smirks. “Sounds like Buck.”

“I’m right here,” Buck says.

“You sure are,” Hen tells him, then turns back to Eddie. “So, home on leave?”

Eddie hesitates. “Actually… I’m home for good.”

Buck pulls back, blinking. “Wait, what?”

“I got my discharge papers last week. Honorable. They fast-tracked since the bullet,” he gestures down to his leg with the arm not still wrapped around Buck. “It’s official.” He pauses, softer now. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Buck stares, stunned. “You’re… you’re done ?”

Eddie nods. “I came home. For good.”

Hen watches the way Buck looks at him, like he’s trying not to cry but not really succeeding. She glances away, gives them the illusion of privacy even in a public space.

And then Eddie continues.

“I actually came by for another reason.” He shifts his pack off his shoulder, digging around inside for a manila folder. “I wanted to talk to your captain. I start at the fire academy next month, and I was hoping to tour the station today. Just get a sense of things.”

Hen’s jaw drops.

Buck just laughs, a soft, startled sound that spills from his chest like all the joy in his life has been caught there, waiting for a moment like this to break free. 

“You’re joining the academy?” Buck asks.

“I figured if you can handle it, I probably can too.”

“I hate you,” Buck says, grinning.

Hen looks between them, heart full. “So let me get this straight. Buck’s been secretly married to a guy for years, that guy’s now home for good, and he’s also about to become our coworker?”

Eddie shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “If you’ll have me.”

Hen puts a hand to her chest. “This is the most romantic, ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Josh, appearing behind her out of nowhere, chimes in, “And I’ve been falsely accused for months! ”

Buck groans again. “Why is everyone like this?”

Eddie puts an arm around him. “Because you kept us a secret.”

“You were deployed!”

“You still had friends ! ”

Hen watches them, already exhausted and a little in love with this absurd domestic disaster happening right in front of her. She just rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. “Please hold while I text literally everyone that the mystery is finally solved.”

Buck and Eddie, tangled together in the middle of the station, both start laughing.

And Hen finally— finally —has the answer she didn’t know she was chasing all along.