Roaming hands and large swells.

As agreed, Dr. Wells had texted him the teams' therapy schedules before midnight. As it turned out, all of their first sessions were on the same day. Except for Hen's, who wasn't on the schedule at all for the first week, maybe she was busy and doubled up the next? He'd find out soon enough.

It was set for two days later on their next off day, and a weekday which worked out for those of them who had kids who went to school. His was first at 11am, then Chim at 12:15, Eddie at 1:30, and Bobby at 2:45. Each session was an hour with 15 minutes in between, totally doable.

He figured it was a good thing that he didn't have anything on his schedule except work, no need to reschedule or push things around. Plus he'd have time afterwards to decompress after what was almost definitely going to be a very stressful day.

..................

It's less than five hours. It's less than five hours. It's less than five hours. He repeats to himself like mantra as he walks into the office.

He makes his way up to the front desk, backpack slung over his shoulder. "Hi, Evan Buckley, I've got an appointment this time." He greets the receptionist.

She smiles back at him and taps away at the computer for a second, "Yes you do, eleven o'clock, you can go ahead and take a seat and she'll be with you shortly."

He thanks her and then takes a seat, glancing at the magazines on the table in front of him. None of them were particularly interesting, mainly just tabloids, fitness/diet, and fashion, but he was bored so he looked through the fashion one until his name was called.

"Mr. Buckley." The receptionist called from her desk, and he looked up, "Go ahead on back, third door on the right."

He set the magazine down and headed back. True to form, when he entered he found her sitting at her desk with several files in front of her. She looked up at him and nodded, going back to work without saying anything. He sat down on the couch and pulled his laptop out from his bag, connecting to the wifi and pulling up the Wikipedia article on moss lawns he'd fallen asleep reading the night before.

Time ticked slowly by, but eventually the clock hit noon and he put his laptop away. He turned around to check that the window's blinds were open then headed for the door.

He paused before leaving though, "You don't need a refresher on the deal, do you?"

"No, Mr. Buckley, I'm familiar with the terms." She replied coldly, he nodded and stepped outside the door, settling against the back wall.

He slipped his AirPods in as he waited, hitting shuffle on a random playlist. He didn't intend on listening in and invading his team's privacy anymore than he already was. He even made sure to angle himself so he couldn't see the couch, and instead only the other chair and the desk were visible to him.

He waited the fifteen minutes and soon enough, Chimney came through the door. He paused upon seeing Buck leant against the wall.

"What are you doing here, Buck?" he asked, clearly caught off guard.

"Therapy." He replied shortly.

"Yeah, well." Chim said, "it's time for my session right now."

"Ok, I'm not stopping you," Buck shrugged and pointed, "Door is right there."

Chim looked like he was about to protest or at least question his presence further but then the door opened, "Mr. Han," Dr. Wells said, "are you ready?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied easily, then shifted his eyes back to Buck, "just not really sure why he's here."

"Oh, don't worry about him." She waved a hand at Buck, "He's allowed back here, now come on in so we don't waste any of your time."