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"I wish you were the one to raise me."
It slips out without Buck even processing the thought in his mind and his mouth shuts tight, eyes widening.
Immediately he feels sick to his stomach, a nasty combination of fear and guilt consuming him whole.
Bobby had kids.
He—
Buck—
"I'm sorry," Buck gasps out, trying to take it back. "That was insensitive of me and weird—"
Bobby puts a hand on Buck's shoulder before he can leave. "Hey, it's okay. It's not weird, not at all."
Buck looks up at him, still hesitant.
The roof is quiet at this time of night. The cool evening air bites at his cheeks and Buck fights the urge to shiver.
They'd come up here for a bit of air and some hot coco. The camping chairs oddly a comfort for Buck, even in their awkwardness.
Buck's not sure why the thought had come up.
He'd just been thinking about how nice it was that Bobby had made them hot coco. Bobby had been gentle with him all day, somehow just knowing that Buck was off, even without Buck saying anything.
No one else had seemed to notice, but Bobby did.
Bobby always did.
And Buck had just...
He'd thought back to when his dad would be harsh on him, on when his parents would ask him to speak up when he couldn't muster the energy to say anything above a whisper. They never knew, and if they did know, they clearly didn't care.
Bobby just... made it look easy.
He made it look like the easiest thing in the world and like there was no other option.
And Buck...
He'd just—
For a moment he had wished.
Wished things had been different.
Wished...
"Do you want to talk about it?" Bobby asks, voice kind (always kind, never overly critical).
Buck fidgets with his hoodie zipper, distantly wondering if he should actually zip it closed.
"You don't have to, but I'm here for you. If you want to," Bobby reassures him and Buck releases a shaky sigh.
He has an opening. He might as well try.
"My parents..." Buck's eyes flicker up to Bobby's before immediately dashing away as he tries to gather his thoughts. "Maddie likes to say that they're good people, just not... great parents."
Bobby hums, hand still a comforting weight on his shoulder and Buck leans into it ever so slightly.
"They... They weren't patient like you are. They didn't understand me, like ever. I'd get in trouble, and granted a lot of the times it was deserved—"
Bobby makes a noise of disagreement that Buck is curious about, but files away to question later.
"—but they never let me explain. It was just like... I was invisible. If I ever needed help, if I was ever struggling— They'd just tell me to deal with it myself. If they said anything. A lot of the time I just got the silent treatment and told to "go to my room"." Buck frowns, chest hurting as he realises just how upset that made him. He... he deserved better. "I don't know... I just. If I was hurt physically, they'd be right there to take care of me. I'd get ice-cream, I'd get a new bike. Whatever I needed. But the minute I was sad? They couldn't have cared less. It was like. If they couldn't see the injury, then it wasn't there. But—It still hurt, you know?"
Buck feels his throat start to close up as tears build behind his eyes and he squirms, uncomfortable.
He's not sure why it's so hard to cry. He and his counselor have worked a lot on it. He logically knows it's okay to, but he feels like everything in his body is actively working against him from doing so.
He's scared to look at Bobby, terrified that he's messed up and overstepped, overshared.
The words have just been tumbling out of his mouth and he knows he's not the best at thinking before he speaks, but this time he really wasn't controlling what he said and he hates it.
"Oh, kid."
Bobby's voice is full of grief, but there's an understanding in it that makes Buck look. The minute he meets Bobby's gaze, he breaks, and he gladly falls into Bobby's open arms.
"I got you, kid. I’ve got you."
Bobby's arms wrap around Buck, warm and a solace from the mess of emotions that are fighting inside of him right now.
Buck feels small, like he's shrunk back into his eight year old self. Bobby's grip is protective, a barrier from the world around them.
His body is still fighting against the tears, but he chokes out a few of them, hiccuping and sniffling even as he holds back.
"Breathe, Buck. Just breathe." Bobby says, voice soothing and he manages to follow Bobby's example, albeit shakily.
After a while, Buck’s breaths even out and he readjusts himself into a more comfortable position, leaning his back against Bobby’s chest.
The world around them is still quiet, even as he listens to cars in the faint distance.
Eventually Bobby speaks, voice hushed in its confession. “I wish I’d been able to raise you too, kid.”
Buck’s breath stutters, but he manages to push through, even as he gets the urge to hold it.
Bobby takes a deep breath and Buck closes his eyes, feels Bobby’s chest rise and fall beneath where he lays. “I have a lot of feelings about your parents. Most which I won’t say because they’re not very nice, but— You deserved better, Buck. You deserve better. I’m so sorry your parents never gave you the time of day. You deserve support when you’re hurting, even if they don’t fully understand. It’s not their job to judge whether or not you’re hurting. It’s their job to listen to you and if you ask for help, they better damn give it to you.”
Buck can hear Bobby get more and more heated as he speaks and there’s a spark of pettiness that enjoys hearing it.
“I’m—” Bobby chokes up and Buck feels his heart pang in concern as he realises Bobby’s near tears. “I’m honoured that you wished I raised you. I… I don’t feel like I deserve that much esteem, but I know I’d do everything in my power to make sure you feel loved. And, I hope you know that. I hope you know now how loved you are, kid. Everyone at the station loves you. You’re a part of our family. I know it’s not the same and I’m sorry. You deserved a childhood where you were supported no matter what. But I hope that we can at least give you some of that support now.”
The tears return, streaming softly down his face and Buck is at a loss for words.
He turns his face back into Bobby’s chest, squeezing him with all of the strength he has in hopes that that speaks for what Buck’s words lack.
“I’m here for you, Buck. We all are. No matter what.” Bobby says, arms holding Buck back just as tight.
“Thanks Bobby,” Buck whispers. It still hurts. Buck’s not sure that it’ll ever truly stop hurting. But the pain is lighter now and there’s a comfort that comes with knowing that he has Bobby and the team.
“I love you, kid.”
“I love you too, Cap.” Buck replies, and it sounds a lot like the word Dad.