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Chimney wishes that opening his door at one in the morning to a sheepish-eyed Buck Buckley would be something that's new to him, but when Buck holds out a tinfoil-covered container of cookies with only a little apology in the furrow of his brow, he just snorts and steps aside to let him in.
"Maddie's reading Jee a bedtime story," he tells him. "You're allowed to go in, but if you make my daughter too excited to fall asleep I'm assigning you toilet duty for the next month."
Buck snorts. "This is why nobody liked Captain Han the first time," he informs Chim. "And I- yeah, I'll go say goodnight to my favorite girls, but, um-" He pauses, looks at Chimney with his big blue Buckley eyes like he's asking Chimney a question. Chimney, who is admittedly very susceptible to the Buckley Eyes, nevertheless can't read Buck's mind the way he can Maddie's or even Hen's. He just blinks back. Grabs a cookie out of the tupperware.
Oooh, double chocolate!
He takes a bite, and, okay, redact what he said before. He doesn't wish that Buck stopped showing up at him and Maddie's doorstep, because hot damn he made some good cookies.
Also he was family and Chimney loved him or whatever. But mostly: the cookies.
Buck breaks after a few moments of silence, because Buck. "I'm- I wanted to talk to you, actually."
Chimney raises an eyebrow. "Wait, are you actually gonna submit a complaint about my captain-ing, Buckaroo? Because I'm billing all of Jee and Nash's college tuition invoices to you if I don't get that pay bump."
"What? No way, I'm not- um, it's not about that." Buck hesitates, shakes his head. He and Chim go into the living room, where Buck waits until Chimney sits on the couch before waving at him to wait and going into the hallway towards Jee's bedroom.
Chim sits and waits. Despite himself, he feels a fission of unease. Buck usually talked to Maddie, or Eddie (though maybe not, given that they were being...weird, lately), or (and this sends a pang through Chimney that ached sharp and bittersweet) Bobby. He'd even go to Hen, in a pinch. But Chimney wasn't on Buck's usual list of confidants - not because they were any less important to each other, but because that wasn't really Chimney's role. Chimney was for good-natured ribbing and gentle shoves in the right direction and no questions asked schemes. They weren't...talking people.
He hears Jee's excited cheer from the bedroom, and smiles to himself. As much as he ribs, he wouldn't give the bond between her daughter and her favorite uncle (despite Albert's protests, which Chimney always responded to by telling him to visit more, then) for anything in the world. He watches as Buck and Maddie leave the room, Maddie putting a hand on his forearm and murmuring something to him before kissing his forehead by his birthmark, Buck ducking down with a smile that makes Chimney think of the two of them at seven and sixteen, doing the exact same.
The love of his life turns to him, then, gives him a soft look and smile that he knows means that she'll be waiting in their bedroom, and slips away to give them some space. It's a weird inversion of what usually happens, when Chimney locks himself in their bedroom for a Buckley Sibling Talk. Not because he feels awkward or anything, but because he doesn't want to risk overhearing something that he's doomed to fail at keeping a secret. For all that Maddie loves gossip as much as him and Buck is a chronic babbler, the two of them also have an almost casual way of keeping secrets and sidestepping hidden landmines like they weren't even there.
Finally, Buck returns to the living room, brows slightly furrowed again. Chimney watches him thwump onto an armchair, smiles. "What's up then, Buckaroo?"
Buck hesitates, then blurts out: "I don't know how to be a big brother."
Chimney blinks. Considers. Understands. “Harry?”
“I gave him my helmet,” Buck says. “And I told him not to spin out.”
“Huh, sounds like something one of us would’ve said to you, a few years ago.”
“I know!” Buck runs a hand through his curls. Sighs. “I just- I know that I of all people shouldn’t be the one telling him not to be reckless, but it just- slipped out. I was...”
“Worried for him,” Chimney finishes for him, feeling something soft and warm in his chest. “Buck...”
“I- I know what it’s like, to be eighteen and feel lost and lonely, and to want to help people even if it means being stupid,” Buck says, slowly. “But- I don’t know. I was never on this side of things before.”
“You’re more of a younger sibling for sure,” Chimney says, half-teasing, all love. It’s true, Buck is the baby of the station, even with Eddie being the same age and Ravi being younger. He was the first fledgling Bobby brought on, and Hen and Chim had watched him imprint on all the firefighters like a duckling (a Buckling!), all awe and sweet admiration that you couldn’t help but soften under, the kind that only a kid brother could show.
“It’s stupid,” Buck says. “I don’t- obviously I’m not actually his brother-”
“Hey, you’re as much his brother as you’re mine. As you’re Hen’s, too. We’re family, you know that.”
“Yeah, but- he already has May, and ‘thena, and I- I don’t want to be presumptuous, you know?”
Chimney reaches out, puts a hand on his shoulder. “You came to me for a reason, Buckaroo,” he says. “I think if you’re asking me how to be a big brother, you already know how you feel about him.”
Buck sighs heavily. “I’m not used to this kind of responsibility!”
“Dude, you take care of my daughter like, every week. You babysit Denny and Mara regularly. You practically raised Chris with Eddie. I know we joke about you being a kid, but nobody thinks you’re not responsible.”
“That’s- different.” Buck flushes. “Kids are easy. Harry is- he’s going out into the world now. And I didn’t realize how terrified I was for him until he-”
“- started barrelling his way into heroism?” Chimney grins. “Welcome to the world of being a big brother with a stupidly good-hearted baby brother, Buck.”
Buck sighs. “I could ask Maddie, but...” he hesitates. “Maddie...was gone, when I was his age, you know? Like, even before I left home, she wasn’t- she wasn’t really talking to me much anymore. You and Hen...you two are the first people to act like older siblings to me after I became an adult. And I keep thinking, that you two helped me become the person I am today, and how fucked up I was before that, and I just- I want Harry to have that safety, you know? I don’t want Harry to become Buck 1.0.”
And something about that makes Chimney ache, the gaps between Buck’s words where he catches glimpses of the young man he was talking about. The kid who wandered state to state and never had a steady shoulder to lean on.
“And I keep thinking-” Buck hesitates for even longer, then, eyes casting to the master bedroom. His voice lowers. “I keep thinking that the first big brother I ever had died instead of me, and I never learned what relying on him would’ve been like.”
And, oh. Chimney closes his eyes for a moment, just one, and thinks of a gravestone and a brother that was and was not his.
Buck waits for him, looks at him with soft, open eyes. Chimney squeezes his shoulder, just once, and retracts his hand. “I’m not the same brother to you that I was to Kevin,” he says. Buck’s breath stutters, his eyes going wide. Chimney continues. “But I learned how to be a brother from being with him. And...I’m not the same brother to Albert that I am to you, but I learned how to be a better big brother from you.”
Buck stares, and Chimney smiles at him. “C’mon, Buckaroo. You give us a lot of credit, but I remember your probie year- we were all messes. I was as much of a selfish hothead back then as you were, and Hen- well, Hen was also imploding her life in super special ways.”
It’s funny how these cycles go, reckless hotheads wanting nothing more than a purpose, steady partners blowing up their lives with the ghosts of their love lives. Still- “Being a brother goes both ways. I want to be someone you can rely on, sure, but you help me, too. You were always a good brother, and I’m sure you would’ve been one to Daniel, too. Because Maddie always tells me about how much you love her.”
Buck’s eyes go red at the edges, head ducking. Chimney smiles at him, continues: “You might not have experience being a big brother, but you are a brother already. You’re Maddie’s brother, and Hen’s, and mine. And part of being a big brother is falling into all the hard bits first, so you can give good advice to younger siblings that’ll only listen to you about half the time.”
That makes Buck laugh, a little wet. “I listen to you when you have good advice!”
“Wow, that wounds me, Buckley.” Chimney reaches over to ruffle Buck’s hair, something that he doesn't do as much as he’d like, because Buck is stupid tall and it makes him feel pint-sized when he does it when they’re both standing. Buck snorts, but doesn’t move away. “You’re already a good brother, Buck. And you don’t have to live up to any legacy for that. Kevin was irreplaceable, and so are you.”
Chimney lets out a huff of surprised air as Buck barrels over to wrap him in a hug, all soft hoodie and strong arms. He hugs back, because you’d be stupid to turn down a Buckley hug.
Afterwards, Buck beams at him, big and shiny and loving. “Thanks, Chim, I really needed that.”
“No problem, Buckaroo. You gonna crash here?”
Buck shakes his head, tells him he’s going to go home afterwards. Chimney rewards himself for not mentioning any Eddie weirdness at all.
As he goes towards the doorway, he hesitates. He lingers on the porch, then looks at Chimney with an earnest expression. “You’re irreplaceable too, Chim,” he says seriously. “I- I don’t know what Daniel would’ve been like as a big brother, but I- when I was worried about this, I didn’t wonder what he would say to me at all. I just wanted to talk to you. To me, you’re my one big brother. The only one I’ve got.”
And then he leaves before Chimney can process any of that at all, the bastard, the jeep door opening and closing before Chimney can say anything through the sudden lump in his throat.
Later, he slips into bed, curls his arms around Maddie.
“Good talk?” she murmurs into his hair, soft and smelling of mint and vanilla.
He kisses her neck, holds her closer. “Mm,” he murmurs in agreement. “You know, I’m really glad I’m part of your family.”
“I’m glad you’re part of my family too,” Maddie says easily, and then, in the same gentle tone as Buck: “And I’m glad my baby brother knows how much his big brother loves him.”
He holds her tighter, the two of them slipping into sleep, and dreams about brothers, lost and found.