ladieslunching
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It begins with three little stars, haphazardly scribbled on an uncompleted inspection report.
Where he had been meticulously documenting the contents of the firetruck only minutes before, putting uniform checkmarks with each item stocked, Buck is now met with the offending doodle. There, squeezed in beside the LAFD emblem, are three stars, drawn in jagged, uneven lines. They can barely be called stars, really, looking more like ink splotches, Buck thinks. He knows, logically, that stars are hard to draw, getting the angles right almost impossible. Everybody expects hand-drawn stars to be squint, never perfectly symmetrical, always a little imperfect. In a way, that is their beauty, a perfect metaphor for humanity.
But these. These are atrocities.
And maybe that is why Buck just stares at the previously unmarred sheet, brain buffering for a good twenty seconds before the truth of the situation catches up with him. “Who did this!”
***
or: Someone at the 118 doesn't know how to leave Buck's clipboard alone. Buck would be a lot more upset about it if it didn't bag him the love of his life.
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“I mean, you kind of did the same thing yesterday,” Lucius tells him afterwards, when they’re reviewing the day’s adventure for the logbook. Ed’s somewhere out on deck, which is a very good thing, since Stede is having a bit of a panic. “And the day before, and the day before—”
“Did I really?” Stede wails in horror.
“And the day before,” Lucius confirms. “Except then it was ‘dear heart.’ No, wait, it was ‘my love.’ ‘Dear heart’ was the day before that. Actually, I don’t think you’ve called him by just his name in like, a week.”
Or, Stede realizes he's maybe, possibly started calling Ed rather revealing things.
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Bookmarked by ladieslunching
03 May 2022