Chapter Text
“No me estás escuchando, Iván!”
Though Eddie can’t really blame Buck for not listening to him when he continues to curse at him in Spanish.
“Estás pero bien pendejo!” Eddie cusses despite knowing that his partner cannot, as a matter of fact, understand that he tells him that he is an idiot. Though by the tone of his voice, Buck likely understands that his partner is upset with him, at least.
Eddie doesn’t know when exactly he started venting his frustrations about his partner almost exclusively in Spanish, but he realized over time that it grew to be more frequent. Not that Buck ever seems to mind. Perhaps he is relieved not to know what Eddie sometimes throws at him in the heat of the moment.
And in their line of work, there often is a lot of heat in the moment.
Tonight is no different, trotting after Evan Buckley, digging up all curses the Spanish language provides – as there are plenty of that – bound to watch his partner walk on perfectly unaware, with the typical swagger in his step. Even with the face mask on, even with his back turned to him as they make their way back to the firetrucks and the ambulances, Eddie knows that his partner is smiling like an idiot.
“Pendejo!”
Though perhaps he is about as much of an idiot as the guy prancing in front of him. He knew the moment he told Buck specifically to follow him out of the burning construction site and not leave his tail that Evan Buckley would not stick to that. Because that is who Buck is. Still, it frustrates Eddie to no end that it took Buck no more than five seconds to move the opposite direction without another word.
Because Buck heard something and suspected another person in there. Leave it to this firefighter to actually rescue a cat not from a tree but from a construction site where teenagers thought it was a great idea to play around with gasoline to make some atmospheric pictures and videos for their Insta followers. At least that is what they found out when they got the first lot out of the building and one of the girls kept complaining that all pictures turned out blurry.
And so, because his partner is Evan Buckley, firefighter and pendejo extraordinaire, Eddie walks only ever just one step behind him to ensure the man does not even dare to take another detour. As he continues his ranting, Eddie is bound to watch Buck cradle this admittedly adorable albeit a little scorched older cat in his strong arms.
“Buckaroo, a cat, really?” Hen calls out as he sees the two approach.
“I thought it was a kid!” Buck sniggers, readjusting his grip on the cat with brown, matted, sooty fur.
“Well, lucky you the cat decided not to claw your face off out of fright,” Chim chuckles, shaking his head.
Buck looks down at the cat. “Nah, we are best buds.”
“I think it is a female, Buckaroo,” Hen informs him in her usual gentle voice.
“I can be best buds with the feline dudes and dudettes.”
Hen rolls her eyes, amused. “A true ally for feline feminism, Mr. Buckley.”
“You bet!” Buck laughs.
It is at that moment that Eddie decides he’s had enough.
“¡Dios! ¡Dios mío!” Eddie pulls off his helmet, then rolls down his mask. “You were supposed to follow me!”
Buck turns around on the back of the heel, frowning at him. “But I couldn’t leave what I thought to be a kid. And I couldn’t leave this precious kitty either, could I?”
When the cat starts to purr at him, Eddie is ready to lose his mind. Really, he knows, he knows that Buck has an immeasurably big heart that reaches even across species. Yet, it drives Eddie up invisible walls that his partner can just stand there, unaware of how much he makes Eddie worry for him, smiling it away.
And all that because of a cat and some Insta pictures!
“We should bring the cat to the vet,” Buck ponders, not in the least bothered by Eddie’s words. Of course not, because that, too, is Buck. And most of the time, Eddie loves that about him. But there are those days when he absolutely wants to strangle Buck for getting himself into trouble or almost dying on him. Because Eddie needs that pendejo in his life, more than he’d want to, especially during moments like these.
“I don’t think the cat will want to leave your side,” Hen chuckles softly, watching the cat rub herself against Buck, seemingly very desperate for him not to put her down, or rather, very desperate for him not to leave her, ever.
“Oh well, if the cat doesn’t have a chip, I may just as well adopt this one. Judging by the looks, she also lost a few lives already – like me. Plus, a cat on fire for a firefighter seems like a neat thing if you asked me,” Buck thinks aloud. “I mean, historically, it’s Dalmatians because they cleared the streets for when they still had horse carriages for firefighting. But why not a fireproof cat, huh?”
“Oh Buckaroo, do you find that wise?” Hen tilts her head to the side.
“I worked on a dude ranch before, remember? I lived with cats for months and they all loved me, safe for Mr. Meatballs. That black shorthair launched itself from the beams in the haymow when you least expected it with any intention to get a chunk of your face. God, I hated that cat.” He shakes his head, reminiscing.
Hen sighs. “There are still so many questions about your journeys left unanswered, Buckaroo.”
“The farm was great. Just not Mr. Meatballs.”
“Hen, Chimney! Can you help here for a second?” Bobby calls.
“Sure thing, Cap!” both say, already heading off.
Buck continues to stand there, oblivious as ever to how infuriating he can be with his antics, only ever adding gasoline to the flame heating up in the pits of Eddie’s stomach. Because that guy even has the audacity to start to almost dance with the cat in his arms like people do with an upset child, looking way too much like a father right at this moment.
“I mean it, Buck,” Eddie insists, more composed now, though no less pissed off about it all. “You were supposed to follow my lead.”
“And I did, right after. C’mon, Eddie, can you resist those pretty eyes?” Buck bargains, holding up the cat right to his face. Eddie stares right through the feline to look Buck in the eyes.
Because no, he can’t resist those eyes, but that is nothing he’d share in either English or Spanish. Or any language existing on planet earth. Those are the things Eddie stores in a neat little box, right up there with how soft Buck looks when he cradles children or small animals in his arms.
Because Evan Buckley is not the only pendejo of the bunch, it would seem. But Eddie is still too angry to think about that.
“Buck, put the cat down,” he demands, making sure to keep his voice leveled. Because he would rather not have Bobby tear them apart as Eddie feels any urge to start a fight.
“But look at her!” Buck argues, raising and lowering the cat in front of him, as though that may hypnotize Eddie into forgiving him.
“You won’t bargain me into stopping to be mad at you with the cat, no matter the eyes,” he declares resolutely.
And no matter whose it is.
“I will give a warning next time, okay?” Buck offers. “Code word: Fire feline.”
Eddie feels any impulse to go on cursing at his partner for his recklessness, English or Spanish doesn’t matter, but as he watches Buck’s sheer excitement about the rescue kitten, Eddie finds the anger boiling down to a fuzzy warm feeling that makes him huff and smile and roll his eyes.
Because this is who Buck is, he knows it, they all know it. Never giving up, soft and caring, and with a heart of gold that should be heavy but is as light as a feather.
Add that to the box you don’t ever want to open, Diaz.
“We’re good, partner?” Buck asks, now with a bit more seriousness in his voice.
“Yeah, we are good,” Eddie assures him.
“Alright, time to find a vet, then!”
Eddie scratches his forehead, preparing for the inevitable late-night visit at the vet and Insta pictures of Buck’s new cat on his account about to flood the notifications.
Eddie remains proven right a couple of days later, when Hen shows him Flareon’s very own Instagram account on her phone, proudly presented to you by Mr. Evan Buckley. The cat had five hundred followers only ten minutes into the profile being launched, numbers still rising by the minute. A fact Eddie gets updates on from Buck without asking for it. Ever.
Apparently, some news outlets caught on to the story and made a small report about the rescue kitten in the hands of a very handsome fireman who’s also been on the news before. Though that time he was under a firetruck and closer to death than he should have any business being.
The story spread like wildfire as kids started to share memes about cats rescued by firefighters, adding the photo of Buck and Flareon to the mix, and so it took Buck no more than ten minutes to put together an account and upload all images of Flareon he’d already taken.
Eddie just leans against the railing, past the point to care about Hen showing him every picture of Buck’s scorched little rescue cat.
“Look at how cute that cat is!” Hen laughs, leaving another like for Flareon before moving on to the next image, only ever leaving Eddie to wonder how many pictures Buck is able to post within mere minutes. “There are cat beds that look like firetrucks. I did not know that!”
“You should not enable him,” Eddie huffs, rolling his eyes at her. “And I don’t think there are. Buck has a knack for building stuff. He also did most of the work for the harness for Christopher so he can try skateboarding.”
No, Buck doesn’t need anyone else enabling him. Eddie already did that enough by accompanying his partner to perhaps the only vet who was available at that hour of the night in Los Angeles during a pandemic. And he did so by listening to Buck parading himself over the phone about knowing how to give a bath to a scared, scorched cat while giving a bath to a scared, scorched cat.
“But look at her sleeping in that tiny firetruck with her wee paws curled around the wee ladder, Eddie!” Hen insists, wriggling her phone at him for emphasis.
Eddie is tempted to look away and roll his eyes because he's had it up to his hairline with Buck and his rescue kitten, but then his eyes catch the image on the screen of Hen's phone. He shakes his head. “Okay, fine, that is too damn cute.”
“Ain’t that right. You get a like and a comment for being so precious, little Flareon,” Hen hums, continuing her journey down that rabbit hole, or cat hole in that context.
So yes, Eddie is well aware that he has been enabling Buck way too much. He also knows that Buck holds a strange kind of power on him when he uses those damn puppy eyes on him, the childish excitement not much different of that of his own son. Eddie would like to say that he grew immune to it, but all the toys he bought for Chris and all the detours he took to get him ice cream do not attest to that kind of parental willpower. And apparently, he lacks the same willpower specifically when it comes to Evan Buckley – and the bane of his life, those damn big blue eyes, full of hope and enthusiasm.
It leaves Eddie to wonder just who is the bigger pendejo of the two, though he knows that if he were to ask the team, they’d instantly tell him the ugly truth: they are both idiots of the same caliber.
At least Eddie managed to put his foot down to keep Buck from naming the cat Cindy Clawford.