The call had been a mess — smoke, glass, chaos, and someone’s burnt lasagna that set off the alarm. When the flames were finally out, Buck slumped against the side of the engine, helmet hanging loosely in one hand, sweat and soot streaking his cheek. The air was thick with adrenaline and exhaustion… and then he saw her.

You.

The paramedic who somehow managed to look completely unfazed, hair a little messy from the mask, glove snapping off as you rolled your eyes at one of the rookies.

“118, you good?” you asked, voice teasing as your gaze landed on him.

Buck’s grin was automatic — that trademark half-smile that could talk its way out of anything. “Better now,” he said, shameless.

You raised a brow. “You say that to every medic who patches you up?”

“Only the ones who make me want to get injured again,” he shot back, stepping closer. His tone was light, playful — the kind of charm that used to come easy. Only now, it had an edge, something quieter underneath it.

You gave him a look — the kind that said please, as if you hadn’t heard that one a hundred times before. “You know, flirting with your first responder might be a bad idea.”

He smirked, leaning in slightly, voice dropping. “What if it’s part of my recovery plan?”

You laughed — actually laughed — and he felt something loosen in his chest that he didn’t realize had been there for months. Since her.

“Buckley, stop harassing the medics and help roll the hose!” Bobby barked from across the street.

Buck groaned, glancing over his shoulder. “See, this is why we can’t have nice things,” he muttered, before turning back to you. “Name?”

You crossed your arms, amused. “You really asking me that now?”

“I figure I should know the name of the person who saved me from certain dehydration.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s Doctor Now-Take-Your-IV-And-Go.”

“Oh, she’s got jokes.” He grinned, backing up toward the truck. “Alright, Doc, but I’m getting that name. Maybe next time you’ll tell me.”

“Maybe next time you’ll stop setting things on fire,” you called after him.

He paused, smirk still there, but his eyes — for just a second — softened. “Can’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.”

You shook your head, watching as he jogged back to his team, helmet in hand, shouting something stupid to Chimney that made everyone groan. He was trouble. Every bit of him. Loud, reckless, charming trouble.

And yet, as you packed up your kit, you found yourself hoping for next time.

Meanwhile, Buck — who’d sworn he was done with all of that — couldn’t stop glancing back at the ambulance as it pulled away. He wasn’t sure what it was — maybe your laugh, maybe the way you didn’t swoon like everyone else — but for the first time since Abby, he caught himself grinning for no reason.

And damn if that didn’t scare him more than running into a burning building.