𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨. Evan Buckley ¹

eighteen

BEAUTIFUL MESS.
chapter eighteen.

WAKING UP WAS SKETCHY FOR Hunter the next morning. Her shoulder was sore and her arm was numb. She slept at an awkward angle and had a kink in her neck. It took her a minute to figure why she was on a couch. Then the blonde felt the movement of a body underneath hers and her hand gripped the muscle of a bicep.

At first, she had thought the man to be Lane and felt comfort and happiness rushing over her. For that quick moment she was at peace as she believed her and the love of her life were laying in bed.

However those hopes were quickly crushed. Slightly craning her head up, she say a peacefully sleeping Evan Buckley who had his head turned to the side and mouth slightly open. Hunter felt it would be best for her to get up and leave before he woke up, maybe he would think it was all in his head.

She had shared too much with him. Knowing he would never look at her the same way was hell, and on top of that he would tell the rest of the 118. She had to get out.

Unfortunately, the arm draped over her shoulder and leg hooked over the back of her knee kept her from moving. Silently, Hunter look towards the side, laying her head back down on his stomach as she brought her hand from his bicep to his forearm. She began tracing the lining of his tattoo rings he had just below his elbow in effort to distracted her racing mind.

Hunter didn't know what the time was, the sun was barely peaking up and shining through his living room window onto the both of them. But she did know she was comfortable, her body wasn't necessarily but her mind was. The girl had also never quite noticed what her friend had under his shirt, because god damn, the way his abs felt against her-

"Calla," buck said, groggily and out of the blue. He had slightly startled Hunter who hasn't realized he was awake. She was too distracted to pick up on the change in his breathing and also the movement of his hands and head, "my hip is kinda numb."

"Oh fuck," Hunter said as she pushed herself up, prepared to get off of the couch, "I'm sorry-"

Buck rolled to his side, pressing his back to the back of the couch and grabbing the waist of Hunter before she could fully get up and pulled her back down into the couch, "I didn't tell you to get you," he mumbled as her back pressed against his chest and his head fell to her shoulder.

Hunter's eyes were wide, not that Buck could see, but clearly one was more awake than the other. Buck most likely had no idea what he was doing right in that moment. Hunter needed out of there. She just didn't know how to get out. And she was hungry.

"Buck," she said but got no response, so she tried again, "Buckley," she said to no avail, "Evan," she sighed.

"Hmm?" He mumbled into her shoulder.

"I'm hungry."

"Oh," he said, raising his head, "what do you want? All I really know how to make is pancakes. Bobby's only really taught me dinner."

"No, buck," she sighed, "I can go get myself breakfast, but thank you."

Buck lifted himself and supported his weight on his arm as he looked at her, "okay, but hear me out, I have blueberries for the pancakes."

Hunter sighed. Of course Buck knew from almost a year in the firehouse together that she loved blueberry pancakes. she loved them, "I hate you," she said to which Buck smiled, "go make me breakfast."

"Yes ma'am," he said and rolled her the top of her to go to his kitchen which was just a few seconds away from his couch. Shortly after, Hunter followed him. He looked at her once he heard the sound of a chair, "how are you feeling today?"

"I'm good, how are you?" she asked with a smile which earned a look of disbelief from buck.

"Seriously," buck said, "how are you-"

"I'm fine," she snapped.

"Just last night you were crying in my arms and now-"

"I said I'm fuckin' fine-"

"Don't get that tone with me-"

"You're right," Hunter said, "I'm sorry. Thanks for letting me stay and I should get going."

"Hey, I started these damn pancakes. You're staying."

"Buckley," she said with a fake laugh, hoping he wouldn't notice, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have came here."

"No, no, no," he said quickly, "I'm glad you did and you should be able to come to me like that. As much as I hate to admit it, you're my friend."

Hunter looked at him with her lips pursed for a moment before asking, "is this the part where we hug and kiss?"

Buck's smile dropped as he picked up a towel and threw it at her, "I fuckin hate you."

Hunter laughed, her voice still hoarse from the strain her crying had put on it. she caught the towel in her hands before it hit her face. Looking back at buck she saw that he was laughing too before he said, "but seriously, you need to talk and I'll be here- or whenever you need me."

"I'll be okay," she said hoping to convince not only Buck but also herself, "moment of weakness, you know?"

The man nodded as he turned back towards the stove with a slight shake of his head. To him, it was unbelievable that she held that weight every single day. If it was him, he'd struggle to get out of bed. Buck had missed out on becoming a Navy Seal because he despised the idea of innocent death so much to the point that he dedicated his life to saving innocent lives. Hell, sometimes those he helped were far from saints.

Hunter on the other hand had been taught that some human life had no value. Has harsh and inhumane as it sounded, it's what helped her through her first deployment. Shooting in base and training camp was easy, the hard part was aiming the scope at a real human for the first time. Obviously she had gotten over that hesitation by her retirement, it was shown by her probable kill count of 391. After 7 years of the USMC drilling nothing but how to kill into her head, she became one of the top snipers the country had ever seen.

One side of Hunter was proud of herself, the other is guilty. Not for all those she killed. She feels quilt because the those lives she took didn't affect her at all. After a few week, pulling that trigger became effortless and she even looked forward to doing her job because she knew it meant she was protecting her country.

"You're not weak," buck said in response to her earlier words, "calla, I don't know anyone stronger than you," he said as he laid his hand on her shoulder and looked down at her.

"Buckley," she said while staring up at him. She hadn't noticed before but the blue in his could have drowned a person if they weren't careful. And the tight fitting Henley even enhanced the color, "that might be the nicest thing you've said to me."