Chapter Text
Buck didn’t wake up on a random Tuesday morning in sunny Los Angeles and think to himself, “Today I’d like to kidnap a child.” Unfortunately, sometimes these things just happen.
He was posing for a series of increasingly tasteful post-gym-workout mirror selfies when the phone in his hand started buzzing.
“Hey, Hen,” he answered with a grin. Despite working at the 118 for a few months, it wasn’t all that common for his coworkers to reach out to him when they were off shift. “What’s up?”
“Are you clothed?” As an opening line, it wasn’t promising. “And sober?”
Stifling a sigh, he said, “Yeah, it’s like, not even five o’clock yet. Why? You need a ride somewhere?”
“No, Denny does,” Hen said quickly. “Chim isn’t answering his phone and Karen is currently in the middle of getting her appendix out. Denny needs to be picked up from science day camp in less than twenty minutes. I already called Athena and she’s in the middle of booking someone across town. Bobby’s phone went straight to voicemail. I’m desperate here.”
“I’m getting that,” Buck said flatly. His enthusiasm for being the person called on in an emergency was slightly dimmed by being the last possible option. Still, he liked Hen and there was a kid involved. It wasn’t like Buck was ever gonna say no. “Just send me the address. I’ll leave right now.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Buck. Really.” Even through the phone Buck could hear the long breath she let out. “I know Karen will be fine, but I just can’t leave her.”
“I get it,” Buck said, even though he really didn’t. Buck didn’t have anyone in his life to worry about like that. Abby was gone without a backward glance. It had been years since he’d heard from Maddie. And it wasn’t like Buck had any kids to take care of—honestly, he couldn’t blame Hen for thinking of him as the last resort. Buck could barely take care of himself.
“I’ll call to let them know it’s an emergency and someone new will be picking him up today. Thanks again, Buck, really. I’ll make this up to you.” Hen hung up before Buck could tell her there was nothing to make up for, he was happy to help. A second later his phone pinged with an address.
He took one last longing look at the pile of selfies on his phone and kissed the idea of finding a hookup for the night goodbye.
Twenty minutes of obstinate L.A. traffic later, he found himself parking in front of a small plaza. One of the storefronts featured a sign that read, “Little Thinkers Daycare and Day Camp” in bold multicolor letters.
The rest of the parking lot was dead, businesses closed up for the night or simply abandoned by their customers for the evening.
Buck jogged up to the yellow glow seeping through the glass door of Little Thinkers, oddly nervous.
Nobody had ever trusted him with a child before. Not for longer than it took him to load the kid into an ambulance, and even then he had supervision. Suddenly, picking up Denny wasn't just a small favor for Hen. It was a big responsibility and he honestly wasn't sure he was quite ready for it.
I can't mess this up, he thought. There was an edge of desperation to the words, even in his own mind. He wanted to be the kind of person who got kept and called on in times of crisis—not the disappointing kid who got left behind when people realized he couldn’t measure up. Buck needed to be better. Prove himself.
The little bell over the door jingled cheerfully as Buck hesitantly pushed it open.
“Hello?” The front desk was a ghost town, papered with fingerprinted solar systems. Empty chairs stared him down, the clock on the wall ticking loudly as the minute hand scraped its way to the three. Ten past five—he winced.
Where do they keep the kids after hours? A blur of blonde hair and bright pink yoga pants appeared, jogging down the hallway that presumably led to the classrooms or whatever. He cleared his throat as this new person made a B-line for him.
“Hey, I'm Evan Buckley. There was kind of a family emergency. I'm here to pick up—”
“You're late ,” the teenage girl snapped, scrounging around the clip boards and Post-it notes overflowing between the two front desk computers.
Buck winced, almost as upset by this abuse of perfectly organizable clipboards as he was by the dressing down.
“There was kind of an emergency—”
“Yeah, tell it to Nancy,” the girl said dismissively, all but throwing a pen and a clipboard at Buck. “I'm going to miss my bus. Sign here.”
Buck did, not bothering to look at what he was agreeing to.
“You’re definitely going to have to pay the late pickup fee. Just so you know .” The girl didn't wait for Buck to reply before power walking back down the hallway. At a loss for what to do, Buck followed her.
The place was kind of cool, actually. There were a couple of terrariums, though he didn't have enough time to see what was in them. Chains of construction paper dangled from the ceiling like streamers and bunting. There was a glossy poster identifying different bug species next to one that looked like it was about the properties of light.
Cool.
They stopped at the last room, empty at first glance.
“He's napping,” the girl said, pointing to a pile of limbs curled up in a big chair near a bookshelf. “And, as I'm sure you know, he's absolutely awful when you wake him up, so please don't. Here's his backpack.”
She thrust a surprisingly small plastic bag covered with dinosaurs into Buck’s arms. “Soooo, if you could like, hurry?” She looked pointedly at the clock on the wall, tapping her toe.
Buck nodded, distracted by the soft rise and fall of a tiny chest covered by a Spider-Man t-shirt. There were a pair of fire engine red crutches leaning against the chair.
Hen hadn't said anything about Denny having a disability, but then again Buck knew almost nothing about the kid. A flush of shame washed over him as he realized he'd been picturing Denny as being black this whole time, even though he knew Hen and Karen had adopted. He really had to learn better than to just assume things like that.
The kid asleep in front of him was fair-skinned and curly-haired—enough that he could easily have been mistaken for Buck’s. A pang of useless, untethered desire shot through him. Buck ignored it. Probably indigestion.
The teenage girl behind him cleared her throat.
Buck grabbed the crutches first then scooped the little boy up, cradling him carefully against his chest. Denny made a cute little snuffling sound, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
Buck's heart melted. It was all over for him. That was it. He was gonna love this kid forever now.
Maybe I can get Hen and Karen to let me babysit him more often if I prove I'm responsible, Buck thought optimistically.
Trying to keep his steps light so as not to wake the sleeping child in his arms, he followed the girl back to the door. She held it open for him impatiently, turning the key to lock up behind them without even bothering to flick off the lights. She was jogging down the block toward the bus stop before Buck even made it to his Jeep.
With infinite care, he shifted Denny to one arm so he could open the back door of the car. The kid grumbled as he was laid down in the back seat, but didn’t wake. Carefully, Buck buckled the kid into the seat before climbing into the driver side. He started up the engine with a wince.
How have I never noticed how loud Jeep engines are before? Buck wondered. He inched out of the parking lot, coasting along at a snail’s pace to avoid waking the kid.
Five minutes down the road his phone began to blare with an incoming call. Swearing softly under his breath, Buck pulled over. He scrambled for his phone before it could wake the kid.
“Buck, I’m so glad I caught you.” Hen was breathless on the other end of the line. “I just realized I missed a voicemail from Chim. I was so busy making calls he couldn’t get through to let me know he was good to pick up Denny. You’re probably at the daycare by now, but I wanted to let you know everything is fine and Denny is safe and sound at Chim’s apartment.”
“Denny…is at Chim’s.” Buck’s brain was a mess of static. The words sounded faint to his own ears. In the rearview mirror he saw the little boy in the yellow striped shirt push himself up to sit with a yawn and adjust his glasses. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m positive. He just texted me a selfie,” Hen sounded so fond and relieved. “Apparently Denny is decimating Chim at Monopoly. Again. Some people never learn.” She chuckled. “Anyway, Buck, I’m so sorry for making you rush across town for nothing. Next time the team goes out, let me buy you a beer, okay?”
“Okay.” Normally Buck would have argued, said that there was nothing Hen needed to apologize for. But there was a kid in the backseat of his Jeep who wasn’t Denny. He had no extra brain power left over for reassurances or social niceties.
There was a child in his Jeep.
“I’ll call you back later? Okay, thanks, bye.” Buck hung up before she could reply, his hands shaking.
Twisting in the driver’s seat, Buck blinked at the child who was blinking at him through thick blue glasses.
“Who are you?” the kid said, slow and suspicious. He twisted his tiny hands in his shirt nervously.
“I’m Buck. I’m a firefighter. Who are you?” It was second nature at this point to pull out the voice he used on scared kids on calls. He really wished somebody who knew what they were doing would show up and use that voice on him.
“I’m Chris. Was there a fire? This doesn’t look like a firetruck.” His cute, round little face scrunched into a frown as he looked around the interior of the Jeep with increasing skepticism.
“Ah, no. I think there’s been a mix up.” Buck rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how he was going to explain this one. “I was supposed to pick up Denny Wilson.”
“You thought I was Denny?” Chris asked incredulously. “His hair is way longer than mine and he doesn’t even wear glasses.”
“Yeah, uh, pretty silly mistake, right?” Buck giggled, half-hysterical. The kid giggled with him. “We should go back to the daycare and wait for your mom and dad. They’re probably freaking out looking for you. Let’s get you back where you belong, okay?”
This kid’s only been in my car for like, ten minutes, Buck thought, glancing briefly at the clock as he listened for the seat belt to click behind him before pulling out onto the road. That can’t possibly count as kidnapping, right? Not if I take him right back?
Maybe, if he was really lucky, the kid’s parents were still running late and didn’t even realize their child had been stolen—no, not stolen, misappropriated . Accidentally. They probably hadn’t even had time to call the police yet.
I can totally make this work, Buck thought optimistically. This is definitely not my fault.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, driving just a touch faster. He wasn’t speeding, not with a kid in the car, but the lazy pace from before was long gone. Every few seconds he checked his mirrors, paranoid that a cop car or someone he knew would suddenly pull up beside him at a light. Nobody on his team could ever find out about this. Even though it was a totally understandable thing that could totally happen to anyone.