Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Superstar Evan Buckley to star in Rae Gilmore rom-com with Hollywood starlet, his own sweetheart Taylor Kelly

Evan “Buck” Buckley of “Mad Power” fame crashes TikTok with surge of fan activity after joining the app

“Mad Power” finale most viewed live premier; crazy cliffhanger leaves fans reeling with theories

Captain Bennman’s identity revealed? What’s next for everyone’s favorite hero on “Mad Power?”

Evan Buckley was everywhere. 

And it was driving Eddie up walls, in circles, and into oncoming traffic—“...right, Cal? Oh, and Billee did you hear the news? Evan Buckley’s going to be in a movie…” —almost literally. 

Eddie swerved away from the shitty driver and narrowly missed ripping the window off a car parked on the side of the street. He swore and thanked whatever that Chris hadn’t been in the car with him. He snapped at the radio’s volume controls and drove the last four and a half minutes home in silence.

He unlocked the front door and called out to Chris, who returned his “Home!” with a distracted “Hey, Dad.”

Eddie rounded the wall into the living room and found Chris planted on the couch, eyes glued to the television playing, of course, “Mad Power.” Because Evan Buckley was everywhere. And everywhere included the inside of his house. 

“Hey, buddy,” Eddie said, leaning down next to Chris, arms tucked beneath him on the back of the couch. He nodded at the tv. “You finish your homework?”

Chris groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad.” He paused, watching Captain Bennman fly over Manhattan. “I cleaned my room too,” he added, not turning his head.

Eddie smiled. It was his parental duty to ask, though he hadn’t doubted for a second Chris had done the responsible thing. He’d gotten home late from work anyway so there was plenty of time for Chris to finish all his schoolwork before watching tv, and besides, Carla wouldn’t have let him spend the whole day doing that anyway. “Where’s Carla?” Eddie asked, noting her absence. 

“In the bathroom,” a laughing voice said behind Eddie. “Don’t worry, I haven’t left without telling you.” He turned to greet Carla with a hug, thanked her for taking care of Chris, and tried to apologize for getting home late. “Oh, no, don’t you even start,” she said gently slapping at his shoulder, “You know I don’t mind a bit, I love that kid to pieces.” Eddie smiled softly and she motherly patted his cheek. “Well, I’m off,” she said, smiling up at him. "Bye, Eddie.” She walked around him to the couch and hugged Chris. “Bye, Chris.”

“Bye, Carla,” Chris said happily, looking away from the tv long enough to return the wide grin she gave him. “Hope you have a good night,” he said softly.

Carla smiled sweetly, sharing a gentle look with Eddie. “Aw, thank you, honey. I hope so too.” 

Eddie walked Carla to the door and she left with one last shoulder pat and a quiet “Bye-bye.”

Eddie headed back to the living room. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

“How was your day?” 

“Good.”

Eddie pursed his lips, equal parts amusement and mild annoyance. “You gonna tell me what you got up to or—?”

Chris leaned forward and grabbed the remote to pause the tv. He turned to Eddie with his own annoyed expression. “I’ll tell you about it at dinner. I’m busy taking notes on the finale for my theories,” he said pointedly, holding up a spiral notebook and pencil and plopping them back on his lap. 

Eddie held in a sigh and smiled at his son. “Okay, if you say so.” He stood behind the couch for a minute to watch Evan Buckley punch a bad guy in the face—Doctor Malusse, he thinks. He watched the show with Chris pretty often, but it’s not like he could remember all the names. Captain Bennman leapt through a closed window, shiny glass shatters raining down around his rippled body in a full body shot, complete with a smouldering look from the hero. Eddie shuffled his feet and forced himself to look away from the screen. “I uh, I’ve got to do a couple things real quick, but could I sit and watch with you when I’m done?” he said.

Chris glanced back at him and smiled. “Sure,” he said, a genuine smile reaching his ears, any traces of irritation disappeared completely from his face.

“Cool,” he said emphatically. He shoved himself off the couch and rustled Chris’s hair. “I’ll be right back, kid.” He turned to the hallway, laughing softly as Chris reached up to fix his mussed hair.

He grabbed some fresh clothes, and quickly showered, eager to be in something more comfortable than his dirty, sweaty, LAFD uniform. As he walked down the hall to the kitchen a face caught his eye from Christopher’s room. He backtracked and snapped his gaze to a large poster on the wall that hadn’t been there when he’d left for work this morning. He stared in horror at the blown up face, smirk evident under a blue-green superhero mask, blonde curls falling around piercing blue eyes that stared right back.

Evan Buckley was everywhere.

“Chris!” Eddie yelled, voice wavering slightly. He backed out of Chris’s room slowly, like any sudden movement would make Captain Bennman leap off the wall and grab him. 

When he returned to the living room he found Chris, head turned with the tv paused again, wearing a deeply puzzled look. “Yeah?”

“Where, uhm—” Eddie gestured vaguely down the hall. “Where did that poster come from?” he said, trying to keep any displeased tones from his voice. Chris wasn’t in trouble, it wasn’t a crime to have a poster. It’s just it was Evan Buckley. And Evan Buckley was everywhere. And Eddie was sick of it. He did his best to merely sound curious.

“I got it from Ian at school,” Chris said simply. “I traded a Darkrai Pokémon card for it.”

Eddie nodded, having absolutely no idea what a Darkrai was and if it was worth trading for a gigantic picture of Evan Buckley’s face. “Okay. Sounds like it was a fair trade.”

“It wasn’t even a foil card, and I had three of that one anyway.”

“Right.” 

They blinked at each other for a minute.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Are you okay?” Chris deadpanned.

Eddie scrunched his face in confusion. “Yeah, kid. I’m great.” Evan Buckley’s beautiful blue eyes peered at him from the paused tv screen. He was, in fact, not great.

“Your face looks like you ate something bad.” Of course it does. “Does your stomach hurt?” A little bit. 

“Nah, I’m okay.” Eddie smiled as convincingly as he could. He pointed to the tv and stepped around to sit on the couch. “You gonna finish watching this before dinner?” Chris eyed him, but turned back to face the tv, grabbing for the remote to press play.

Eddie settled in next to Chris and peered down at his notebook. It was open about halfway through, to a page completely covered in words and and doodles. Chris took his theories seriously and his notes were nothing if not incredibly thorough. Eddie couldn’t believe the brain in this kid sometimes. He was so impressed with the detail Chris went into explaining his predictions for “Mad Power” that he’d be a fool not to let him share those ideas with the world, so he’d caved easily to the pleading look Chris gave him when he asked if he could start posting them on TikTok. Chris was 12, Eddie decided he’d be just fine—so long as he was allowed to keep an eye on the account until he was a little older. He figured he had about a year until Chris started telling him to butt out and that he could make his own decisions anyway. 

On the tv, Captain Bennman tiptoed around a building, a slow building synth accompanied his stealth movements and quiet breaths. Eddie leaned over to Chris and whispered, like talking at a normal volume would cause a disturbance and Captain Bennman would be caught. “What theory is this one?” He tipped his head at the page.

Chris raised a finger to his lips and shushed him softly. “This part’s important.”

Eddie pursed his lips and laid back into the couch cushion. “Right. Okay.” He trained his eye on the tv and watched Captain Bennman fight off Doctor Malusse. He dodged punches effortlessly and kicked with a grace that elicited a chant of the word ‘ninja’ in the back of Eddie’s head. He vaguely wondered if Evan Buckley did his own stunts. He vaguely wondered if Evan Buckley’s huge muscles were real. He vaguely wondered if he could stop thinking about how unfairly hot Evan Buckley was long enough to respond to Chris, who he was pretty sure asked a question he didn’t hear because he was thinking about Evan Buckley.

Eddie blinked himself back to the present and turned to Chris, who was looking at him expectantly like he had indeed asked something. “Sorry, kid, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?” 

“I said ‘Can we get pizza tonight?’” Chris repeated patiently.

They had ordered takeout the night before, but hell if the idea of not cooking sounded like an intensely favorable idea to Eddie attempting to cook the chicken thighs he’d bought, and then getting distracted by his wandering mind that inevitably drifted to daydreams about an entirely different pair of huge thighs he wanted to get his head crushed between. 

Fuck. 

Evan Buckley was a problem. 

Evan Buckley was a problem, but it wasn’t because Eddie had a problem with Evan Buckley himself. No. He definitely did not have a problem with Evan Buckley, but goddamn Evan Buckley was one.

Evan Buckley was a problem because Evan Buckley was everywhere and everywhere included Eddie’s head. But he was only in Eddie’s head in the first place because—like Eddie was already disturbingly aware of—he. was. everywhere.

He was always on tv. In his show, “Mad Power,” which was, of course, Christopher’s favorite show, so it was on fairly often. Or talking about “Mad Power” on the morning talk shows Christopher got up early to watch in hopes of getting information that could influence his theories. Or in promos for “Mad Power,” where Evan Buckley, dressed in his Captain Bennman costume, narrated the teaser trailers—because those weren’t enough of a tease on their own, oh no, they needed Evan Buckley talking directly to the audience.

He was always being talked about. On the radio people talked about the season finale of “Mad Power.” Or they talked about his upcoming role in Courting the Cowboy —which Eddie only wanted to see to know what Evan Buckley would sound like with a southern accent. (And definitely not to know what Evan Buckley looked like kissing somebody—which he definitely did not spend time daydreaming about.) Or, in an act that Eddie could admit warmed his heart, they talked about how he donated huge portions of his massive celebrity paychecks to a charity of the month.

He was in all the magazines on newsstands saying he was one of the sexiest men of the year—Eddie couldn’t say he disagreed. He volunteered (not made appearances) at children’s hospitals to take care of and hang out with the children because he “loved kids” and “liked to be helpful.” He was all over every inch of Twitter, which thankfully Eddie didn’t use—though the members of the 118 that did made sure he heard about everything, if only to tease him about his little thing with Evan Buckley. He was on all the late night talk shows being goofy and endearing. In countless web articles claiming he was dating actress Taylor Kelly—which didn’t irritate Eddie at all, thanks. Wearing all the attractive designer outfits at all the gigantic and grand celebrity events. 

He was Hollywood’s Golden Boy.

Eddie knew that Evan Buckley was a celebrity and celebrities are fake and that everything Evan Buckley ever did was probably all some big publicity stunt. That it was all just a ploy to appeal to the masses. That he was probably actually some stuck up, self centered, spinal cord with special treatment. He knew that because he’s met plenty of celebrities on calls, where so many of them were ungrateful or rude or just plain assholes. And also because it’s just common sense that usually “people + fame = a big head and an even bigger dick” (and not even in the fun way).

But there was something about the way Evan Buckley did everything. The way he stopped to talk to every interviewer he could as he walked on colored carpets and answered repetitive questions like “What’s your workout routine?” and “What would you be doing if you weren’t acting?” with the excitable joy of a golden retriever being showered in dog biscuits. The way he calmly put rude interviewers in their place, and the way he refused to give attention to the invasive and unkind questions. The way he defended costars that were unfairly treated and hugged them like they were his best friends in the entire world. The way he talked about the charities he donated to in great detail and why they all meant so much to him, clearly having done actual research on the organizations and what they stood for. The way he brought up random facts on talk shows because he happened to be looking into these weirdly specific subjects recently and just wanted to share with somebody. The way he smiled bright and goofy and serenely happy. The way he seemed to always be smiling, like his grin alone could tell everyone he loved them and meant it. 

He was Hollywood’s Golden Boy and Eddie was a fucking fool at his feet. Because despite everything Eddie knew about celebrities, he believed Evan Buckley wasn’t just some stuck up, self centered, spinal cord with special treatment. There was no way somebody with that much sincerity in their eyes could only be working from a publicist’s script designed to make him seem like the greatest person on the planet.

And it’s not even like Eddie actively sought out ways to hear about or see Evan Buckley and his hopelessly endearing acts. He learnt all of this by accident. Which was the only thread he could feasibly hold onto to keep himself from falling into a self-deprecating spiral about how his constant thoughts about Evan Buckley were likely ticking enough boxes to be labeled as an “unhealthy obsession.” It wasn’t his fault that Evan Buckley was everywhere, so it wasn’t his fault that he was always thinking about him. Right? Right. That sounded logical.

It wasn’t an obsession. It was more like—no no no, it was definitely not like a crush. Because in order to call it a crush Eddie would have to actually know Evan Buckley. Besides, even if it were a crush, the degree to which Eddie was constantly thinking about him would probably circle things back to obsessive territory. He was just… a fan. That was all. He was a fan of Evan Buckley. Just a fan.

“Dad?”

Eddie rolled his eyes internally at the wildly disturbing tangent train his thoughts had gotten on. “Yeah?”

Chris raised his eyebrows and tilted his head accusingly, saying nothing.

Right. Pizza. “Sure thing, kiddo. I’ll go call it in.”

Chris beamed. “Awesome.”

Buck was glad the season was over. 

Not that he had a problem with “Mad Power,” or being a part of it, or the people, or the incredible creative work space. No, he loved all of that. What he had a problem with was being fucking exhausted all the time. 

The nonstop rehearsals and filmings and coming back ins the next scheduled day off to refilm took a damn toll and he was tired. So he was glad the season was over.  But his few weeks of break seemed to disappear with a blink because here he already was, dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment at 12 AM after three days worth of filming for a movie crammed into one. (It really wasn’t that much filming, but it damn sure felt like it.) He wanted nothing more than to just collapse on his bed and pass out for thirty-six hours. 

He took a long shower, letting the hot water melt away the tension in his body, unravelling knots so deep in his muscles he hadn’t known they were there. It was the quiet, mundane moments like these that got his brain all twisted up in its own knots.

He rolled his neck back and breathed deep, willing himself to stay standing long enough to finish washing. Fuck, he was exhausted. Exhausted from long days. Exhausted from long weeks. Long months. Life.

Things didn’t use to be this way. Before his acting career picked up and he was just a kid, drifting around the States in a Jeep on the road to nowhere, full of energy and so carefree.

And even at the start of his ventures into said acting career, when he’d auditioned relentlessly and endlessly for a role in anything that wasn’t a misogynistic beer ad. Ads which his first agent Roger had tried equally relentlessly to convince Buck to go for because he “would just fit the role so well .” He was big, a little burly, and his name was Buck, which Roger insisted couldn’t be anymore masculine and perfect to represent asshole branded beer in demeaning ads. Buck had gotten rid him as soon as humanly possible. 

Getting a footing had been difficult for a while, but then he’d been cast as Captain Bennman on “Mad Power” and he’d finally found a place to land. It took a while for the show to get big, but when it did, damn did it get big . And Buck was grateful for that, he really was. 

He loved the show, and getting to be a part of telling such an incredible story. He loved getting to play a role that meant so much to so many people. He loved getting to watch the world come to life onscreen with his costars at premieres. He loved getting to share about these experiences in interviews, on talk shows, with family. He loved everything about “Mad Power.” 

He didn’t love that he was famous because of it. Well—that’s not entirely true. He did love the famous part, but not because he was some “Hollywood Golden Boy” on a pedestal with a big ego to fill his airy head (like so many people seemed to think was the case). He loved the opportunities it gave him, and he wasn’t about to take those for granted and complain about having privilege, and money and a status that didn’t even mean a real thing anyway.

He loved all the opportunities being famous afforded him. Things like making connections and getting to know incredible people with incredible work—like Dwayne Johnson, fuck, was he excited to have met him. Things like having an easier time finding new roles—like the romantic lead in the upcoming Rae Gilmore movie Courting the Cowboy. Things like having enough influence to able to help make a difference in the world. 

He was glad to be who he was and he wouldn’t change a thing about it—well, almost. 

Besides the typically exhausting work schedule he could really use a break from, Buck could really live without the sickening decrease in respected privacy, which made it incredibly difficult to do anything relaxing without being disturbed. All he wanted was a nice night to himself where he wouldn’t be bombarded by work emails, wasn’t being constantly shuttled from event to event, or lacking sleep because he hadn’t quite learned the word “No” yet and jumped at every opportunity to do something good for someone. (He supposed part of his exhaustion was brought on by himself. He should work on that “No.”) All he wanted was a break, and to be able to enjoy that break without being reminded that his life wasn’t quite his own anymore. 

He wanted to feel human again. Not like Hollywood’s Golden Boy.

He wanted to go out without being recognized. To eat a pizza at the park and watch fucking ducks play in the water and not have a pile of camera flashes pointed at him. Maybe he even wished he were a duck himself, blissfully unaware of watchful eyes. He wanted to visit his sister Maddie without worrying he was being stalked to her house when all he wanted was to be around family. He wanted to have his own family someday, one that he could come home to and not have to relay how their whole lives were being blasted all over public media for prying eyes to see. He wanted the delicate romance that would lead to that family.

Because that was another thing about Buck. He was so smitten with love. And if there was one thing he loved more than love it was the sweeping swooning sensation of that first spark. And a close second was everything it entailed afterward. He loved small, quiet, evenings with low lights and warm smiles, soothing laughs and the gentleness of thumbs caressing cheeks. He loved the bated breaths before leaning in for that first kiss. 

But he didn’t get any of that. Because he got no privacy. Because all those small private moments would be blown up before the world’s eyes, and Buck didn’t want to force that on anyone—not that there was even anyone to force it on anyway. 

Though the tabloids would disagree, seeing as according to several unreliable sources, Buck had been dating Taylor Kelly for about three weeks—which was one hundred and ten percent complete bullshit. Taylor Kelly was Buck’s co-star on Courting the Cowboy, and if they were anything more than that it was friends, that was it. And damn had he been happy to find one of those. They’d gotten together a few times outside of work to get drinks or run lines on their own time. Apparently, an iHop was not the place to be practicing the script for a romantic movie because one minute they’d been eating pancakes and a few eavesdropping creepy reporters later suddenly Buck and Taylor were “madly in love!!” and “talking about marriage!?” 

So it was only understandable that Buck had some issues with the rumors that he and Taylor were anything more than partners on a project. 

Not all talk was bad though. 

There were the fans. God did Buck love the fans. Not because of the attention and adoration that certainly did nothing to deflate his ego. And definitely not because of the obsessive ones that invaded his privacy just as much as the paparazzi. But because of the dedication, the way they loved his work as much as he did. 

He’d been scrolling through TikTok on his lunch break from filming Courting the Cowboy—a recent download that had accidentally caused the app to crash for a day because a cacophony of activity rushed to his page once people had taken noticed he’d joined. He’d liked one video of a puppy dancing with a baby and suddenly he had 2.2 million followers. That’s what he got for boringly using his own name in the handle and sticking a picture of his face on the profile for good measure. Nice going Buck. Really thought that one through.

He was scrolling through his feed now, sitting at the counter eating a bowl of cereal for dinner long after midnight, finally getting his chance to cultivate that highly specific TikTok algorithm everyone and their whole contact list was talking about. So far he thought he was still getting some generic videos popping through, but he has started noticing a trend of animals, funny kids, and memes about being bisexual. Not to mention all the content about “Mad Power” he may or may not have searched up out of pure curiosity.

The season finale of “Mad Power” had aired two nights ago and the media was having a volcanic eruption. Reaction videos flooded Youtube. Entertainment blog articles littered social media ads. And TikTok was clearly no exception to the chaos because there were hundreds upon hundreds of people talking about the show.

And oh, yes. Here they were. The good fans. 

There were short reaction videos that made him chuckle, or smile in sympathy. There were cosplays that wowed him at how talented people were. He couldn’t fathom how much some people really looked like him and he wondered if maybe he had been cloned. Or if he was a clone. There were fanart timelapses that made him gasp in awe. There were memes about Captain Bennman and his enemies. There were fancams of himself that he watched only to marvel at the talented editing skills it took to make them, and not at all to see himself being cool with pretty colored sparkly overlays. He hearted every video he watched because he loved every single one.

He even dueted a few that really impressed him, not only to compliment the people whose creativity brought them to existence, but also so he could keep track of his favorites.

His favorite favorites though were the theories, and in particular, @theCaptainChristopher’s theories. This kid. This kid. He was a genius. His theories were so damn thorough and Buck could listen to him talk about his thoughts for hours and not once want to be anywhere else. He spent a solid two and a half hours watching every last video on the kid’s page, and gasped at how brilliant every last one of them was. 

Chris had a tendency to be unfairly accurate, so Buck checked the posted dates but there was no way they had been made after any of the reveals. There were more than a few that weren’t right, of course, but Buck wanted nothing more than for them to have been true, if not for anything than the way Chris had wholeheartedly convinced him that they were. He backed his ideas with such specific details from the show that Buck was tempted to rewatch every episode to see them play out in real time. 

He dueted a few of the most recent posts. There was a theory about the introduction of a new set of villains based off the epic defeat of Doctor Malusse and his cronies from the last episode, and Buck made a silly face in response that said “hmmm—well maybe—i mean—i don’t know—but maybe” that honestly was just a copycat of the kombucha girl. There was a bittersweet theory about the aftermath of Captain Bennman's identity reveal and what it meant for him in the next season. Chris had ended that particular video saying he hoped that things didn’t get messy for Daniel Moore—Captain Bennman—now that everyone knew who he was. That he hoped it didn’t suddenly turn his life upside down and that he couldn’t be himself anymore because people knew who he was. Because his life was no longer private. No longer his own. Buck sincerely tried not to tear up at that when he put the camera on his face and said, “Me too, kid. Me too.” 

Chris was such a smart kid and his videos were just too sweet. Buck wanted to make sure he watched every one he ever posted, so he scrolled to the top of his page, tapped the follow button, and set his notifications to alert any new posts. He considered sending Chris a message—or his dad at least, considering  his bio said “account monitored by Chris’s father Eddie”—to say how much he enjoyed hearing his thoughts, but after that last one his head was spiraling with the thoughts that had been plaguing him all day, and he didn’t trust himself not to accidentally divulge an emotional life story in the kid’s inbox. 

He decided he’d do it in the morning. And maybe look into getting some Mad Power merch sent Chris’s way. If Buck was lucky, he’d make Chris even a fraction of how happy Chris and his videos had made him.

Chapter Text

Evan Buckley denies relationship—does Taylor Kelly know he dumped her?

‘Courting the Cowboy’ begins filming, Evan Buckley is a rootin-tootin hottie

Hottest places to get flirty in LA this summer, time to heat things up in the city

“Mad Power” next season to begin filming in December

“Dad.”

Eddie grumbled at the cold on his face when Chris tugged the blanket off his head. “Chris?” he said sleepily, trying to sit up with his eyes still closed and head still foggy with sleep. “What’s up, buddy?”

“Dad,” Chris said again, voice serious. Eddie blinked eyes his open and peered at his son with mild anxiety. There was a glaringly bright screen held in front of his face and his eyes slammed shut in retaliation from the pain. “Dad, Evan Buckley followed me on TikTok.”

Eddie sat in silence for a full beat before lamely mumbling, “What? ”

Chris unceremoniously dropped the phone in Eddie’s lap and poked his side. “Evan Buckley followed me on TikTok,” he repeated emphatically. 

Eddie picked up the phone and sure enough, right there at the top of Chris’s notifications was a message saying: “@3van.buckley0 has followed you” Eddie blinked at the screen for a minute before navigating to Chris’s followers page, and then @3van.buckley0’s following page to double and triple check that he had indeed followed Christopher’s page. “Holy shit,” he said under his breath.

“Where’s your wallet?” Chris said, already turning to the side table and rummaging around the drawer.

Eddie continued his investigations, paying no mind to his kid’s quest for swear jar money. He scrolled through Evan Buckley’s page, noticing all his posts were duets, and right in the middle of all of them, were three duets with Christopher. “Buddy, did you see these?” he said, tapping Chris absently on the shoulder.

Chris turned to look at the phone Eddie held out to him. “Yeah, he said he liked my theories,” he said. He reached out to play one. They sat on the edge of Eddie’s bed together to watch and rewatch the videos, in which Evan Buckley told Christopher that “He was really smart,” “Had brilliant theories,” and—after giggling in genuine amusement in one of the silly theories—that he “loved that one.” Chris positively beamed at the phone in Eddie’s hand. All Eddie could do was gape.

“Wow,” he said. He turned to Chris, his own grin growing at Chris’s unwavering smile. “How you feeling, kid?” 

“On top of the world,” he mused. 

And if Eddie thought Chris couldn’t get any happier than this moment, Evan Buckley proved his talent for acting on cue. A notification fell down from the top of the screen: “@3van.buckley0 has requested to send you a message!” 

“Dad,” Christopher said softly. 

“Yeah, I saw it too,” he said quickly. Ever distrustful of technology, Eddie wondered vaguely if Evan Buckley somehow knew they were online and looking at his profile and talking about him. Or maybe he was in their house watching them. Hidden cameras—was he on one of those weird prank shows? Eddie peered around his room suspiciously before he could recognize that that was a completely absurd thought. Evan Buckley could be everywhere and in his house, but Evan Buckley couldn’t actually be in his house. At least he hoped so.

“Open it open it open it!” Chris bounced on the bed and clapped his hands in anticipation. “What does it say?”

Eddie swiped the screen over to the messages tab, and tapped open the request. Out loud, he read: “Hey, Christopher! I hope this message finds you well.” Evan Buckley is apparently weirdly formal. “I love your Mad Power content. Your theories are incredible, and so well thought out. They really made my day and I wanted to thank you for that. :)” Evan Buckley is apparently also a sweetheart. “And to Christopher’s father Eddie: If you’re comfortable sharing an address, would it be all right if I sent Chris some Mad Power merch? I’d love to give him even a fraction of the smiles he gave me.” And Evan Buckley is apparently adorably thoughtful. Eddie’s stomach fluttered at the realization that he (well, Chris) had been directly messaged by Evan Buckley. 

By Evan Buckley. 

Evan Buckley who was everywhere and who annoyed Eddie and who Eddie was a fan of, had addressed him specifically. He wanted their address because he wanted to send his son some free merch because he wanted him to smile. 

“He’s gonna send me merch?” Chris yelled, smile reaching the ceiling, and Eddie had to pause whatever desperate anxieties his brain was trying to concoct about sharing his address with a celebrity online because who was he to deny his son this joy? 

Eddie huffed a nervous laugh. “I guess so, buddy.” Chris hugged Eddie and thanked him. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Thank him.” He handed off the phone and Chris took it delicately.

He watched as Chris typed out a response to Evan Buckley. Holy shit. His son was sending a message to Evan Buckley. Evan Buckley who had messaged them first. He needed to lie down. 

Chris prodded his side after a few moments and said, “He wants to talk to you.” Eddie sat up, eyes widening a fraction. He took the phone back and glanced down at the screen to see a few more message bubbles had appeared. His son had had a conversation with Evan Buckley, and now Evan Buckley wanted to talk to Eddie. 

“All right, you go get dressed real quick. I’ll be out in a few minutes to get breakfast.”

“Okay.”

Eddie read and reread the messages, smiling at the excitement in his son’s messages, and the kind responses from Evan Buckley.

“Hi! 🤩” Chris had sent.

“Hi! Chris? 😃” Evan Buckley had sent.

“Yes”

“Hey! How are you?” 

A chain of smiling emojis accompanied Chris’s “Great!!” And in a new message: “I love Mad Power! Captain Bennman is my favorite character!”

“Really? No way! That’s awesome!” Evan Buckley sent. “My favorite character is Lady Antedinea.” He sent a gif of her on a roof, lightning cracking behind her as she held flames in her outstretched palms, the wind so strong her braids rippled. 

“She’s awesome too! 😎🔥” Chris sent.

“And so are you!” Evan Buckley sent. A cheesy “You rock!” gif of a rock band followed. “Chris, can I talk to your dad for a minute?”

“Sure”

“Thanks!”

And here Eddie was. Staring blankly at the screen because his son had had a conversation with Evan Buckley and Evan Buckley was sweet to his kid and Evan Buckley wanted to talk to Eddie. He took a deep breath and typed:

“Hey, this is Eddie.”  

Four messages in quick succession followed:

“Hi, Eddie! How you dong?”

“Oh my god!!! doing***** 😅😅”

“I hope you don’t mind I was talking to Christopher. I expected you to message first, but I didn’t want to send him away. He’s a sweet kid. 🥺”  

“I just wanted to check with you about the merch so I could get it sent out as soon as possible for him. 😁”  

Eddie couldn’t help it. He full on laughed because Evan Buckley was a dork. A dork who apparently really loved emojis.

“I’m doing okay.” He started one long message with. “It’s okay you were talking to him, I knew what he was doing. Thanks for asking. He is a sweet kid, and he really looks up to you and Captain Bennman. I’m sure he’d really appreciate the merch, but I don’t know if I’m comfortable sending out our address over TikTok. Thank you for the offer.” He hit send and frowned at the screen. It broke his heart to say the last part, but Eddie just didn’t trust the internet.

“Would you feel more comfortable sending it over text message?” Evan Buckley sent back immediately, and without waiting for response, a phone number followed. “That’s my personal phone number, not a strange manager or anything.” Eddie just stared, open mouthed at the phone screen. At Evan Buckley’s personal phone number. Apparently, he’d stared for quite some time because Evan Buckley sent another message when Eddie hadn’t responded. “I’ve got to go, but please shoot me a text if you change your mind! 🏃✌️😊”  

Eddie closed his mouth and reached for his own phone on the nightstand. He created a new contact and typed out the number. Evan Buckley’s phone number. He tapped the new message icon on Evan Buckley’s contact—he had a contact for Evan Buckley in his phone—and opened the text box.

Apparently Eddie was very good at getting distracted by his shock because he spent a good few minutes staring at the blinking cursor before he heard Chris call out to him. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered. “Shit.” 

He quickly typed out a message and hit send before he could think too much about it. 

Eddie: My address would only be used to send the merch right? No one will randomly show up at my house or something?

He swatted at an invisible fly, trying to ignore the completely untrue thought that he wouldn’t exactly mind if Evan Buckley actually did show up at his house or something.

He heard the distant opening and closing of cupboards and the fridge door. “I’m comin’,” he called back to Chris.

The morning went by normally, with the exception of Chris’s periodic excited giggles when he remembered that Evan Buckley had watched and dueted his videos, Evan Buckley had followed him on TikTok, and he’d talked to Evan Buckley. Chris’s glee was enough to calm the screaming nerves inside Eddie every time he remembered he had also talked to Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley’s phone number was in a contact on his phone, and he might be about to give Evan Buckley his address. 

His day continued normally too. He dropped Chris off at school. He went to the station and talked amiably with Hen, Chim, and Bobby. He went out on on a few relatively tame—by LA standards—calls. He ate lunch with the other firefighters, and napped in the bunk room, and cleaned the trucks, and mopped the garage. All completely normal, except for the frequent screaming of his brain reminding him that he had Evan Buckley’s number in his phone, he had texted Evan Buckley, and Evan Buckley had not responded. 

He hadn’t been fully aware of his periodic phone checking after these brain screams until Hen and Chim questioned it.

“Everything okay?”

“Waiting on a secret lover?”

“Ooh, yeah. Someone we should meet, Eddie?”

“Yes. No. Probably wouldn’t ever happen, but maybe,” he deadpanned in one breath, not once looking up from his phone. His text sat lonely in the message thread. He locked the phone, tossed it on the coffee table, and laid back on the couch. 

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Hen asked again, sitting down in the armchair next to the couch.

He felt the couch dip next to him, where Chim’s voice came from next. “Who are you texting?”

Eddie sighed. Fuck it. Why hadn’t he told them already anyway? “Yeah, Hen, everything’s good.” He smiled sincerely at her. “And it’s uh,” he paused and inhaled deeply, “It’s Evan Buckley.”

Hen and Chim sat stone-still staring at Eddie for several deafeningly quiet seconds. Chim started to giggle, and because Hen is prone to laughing like it’s contagious she did too. Eddie said nothing, only pursed his lips and kept his eye trained on a spot on the wall. He tapped his finger on the couch slowly, twisting his lips and raising his eyebrows as he waited out their laughter. 

“Wait, are you serious?” Hen said finally, through a laugh she valiantly tried to hold in. “Chim, wait, I think he’s serious.”

“No shit,” Chim said amazed. “No way you have Evan Buckley’s phone number.”

“Sure do,” Eddie said plainly. “Got a whole damn contact and everything.” He waved a hand carelessly and nodded once. He managed to keep his demeanor surprisingly calm for someone whose dirty little secret was that he was shrieking like a damn banshee on the inside.

“How the hell did you get Evan. Buckley’s. phone number?” Hen asked, emphasizing ‘Evan Buckley’ exactly like Eddie’s own brain was in the habit of doing. In exactly the same confused and bewildered tone that so desperately bothered Eddie to think in.

Eddie smiled, brightly and genuinely. “He followed Chris on TikTok,” he said without preamble (or maybe that was the preamble). He told Hen and Chim about Chris waking him up to show him the follow and the duets. How they’d been watching the videos when his message came down. How Eddie had almost crushed Chris’s heart by declining the merch offer, but then Evan Buckley had sent along his phone number like it was nothing. 

And maybe it was nothing, but it sure as shit didn’t feel like it. 

Hen and Chim dutifully listened while he relayed everything, and did their best not to tease him too much about his technophobia and anxiety around internet privacy. Though they couldn’t help themselves from getting squealy and excited for Christopher, and to know that their own Eddie Diaz has been texting (“It was one text.” “But the TikTok DMs!” “Be quiet, Chim.”) Evan Buckley. And, well, Eddie couldn’t blame them.

And Chim, props to him honestly, made it the whole story before he asked, “So would you, by chance, be willing to share that phone number with the rest of the class?”

Eddie snorted. “No, I would definitely not.”

“Didn’t think so. Just checking.” Chim snapped his gum, and their conversation was over. 

Afternoon and evening continued normally, with the exception of two text messages, neither from Evan Buckley: 

Chim: let me know if you reconsider your offer on sharing that phone number !

Hen: Eddie!!! You have Evan Bucjkahlglihksuil 

Well, now three text messages. (Still not Evan Buckley.)

Hen: Sorry, Eddie. Karen got excited when I told her the story, and took my phone to ask for the number (like I’m sure Chim has undoubtedly blasted you with begs for already).

He responded to Hen with:

Eddie: It’s okay. Have a nice night, Hen. Say hi to Karen.

He ignored Chim.

Normally, with that small exception, and the slight abnormality of Chris staying at Abuela’s tonight, since Eddie’s 18 hour shift didn’t end until one in the morning. So when Eddie walked through his front door at 1:32, he arrived to the eerie quiet of an empty house.

He went through the motions with a zombie’s pace and grace. Ditched his bags. Brushed his teeth. Pajamaed. Collapsed on his bed and tossed his phone in the drawer. Stared at the backs of his eyelids and listened to the deafening silence in his room. 

The silence that was so quiet he jumped hard and hit his head on the headboard when a violent buzzing noise erupted inside the nightstand. He rubbed his head and turned on the lamp. Grumbling, he reached into the drawer to grab his angry phone. Blearily, he opened his eyes and took in the flood of messages.

Evan Buckley: hey! this is eddie right? added your number! 😊

Evan Buckley: so sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you!! long day, didn’t get a chance to look at my phone like AT ALL 😩 

Evan Buckley: dw, i won’t share it with anyone. like I said, no strangers. 😊 oh! have you got a po box or alternate mailing address you’d feel more comfortable with?

Evan Buckley: shit wow i really sound like a creep just begging for your address right now don’t i? i am so sorry about that! honestly didn’t mean it that way, i pinky promise i’m not gonna stalk you or anything! 🤙😉 

Evan Buckley: shit wrong face, now you probably think i’m joking. **🙂 

Eddie watched the messages come in one right after the other, a slow smile growing unwittingly with each progressively flustered text. He was too amused to even gently scold himself for forgetting to mention who he was in his text. He reread the messages twice, balking at their humanness before responding.

Eddie: Man, it is 2 in the morning and you’re sending me 30 texts. 

It was meant to be teasing—bold move teasing the famous person you’ve barely talked to in the last 24 hours, let alone enough to be friends, but it was two in the morning so who could blame Eddie’s lack of discretion, Evan Buckley was sitting here absolutely spamming him like they’d known each other forever, Eddie could get away with a little teasing right?—but instead he received:

Evan Buckley: oh fuck i am so sorry!!!! 

Evan Buckley: i just got home and really didn’t look at the time at all, you were probably sleeping. you can get back to me in the morning, it’s okay. go get your rest!

Eddie chuckled softly and sent his next text before Evan Buckley could apologize himself in circles.

Eddie: It’s okay, I wasn’t sleeping yet. I just got home too actually. I’m sorry, that was meant to be a joke, but I guess I didn’t really think about how it would sound over text.

Evan Buckley: oh! it’s all right 😊 

Evan Buckley: hope you’re having a good night then 🌙✨  

Eddie: It’s been all right. And same to you. 

And you know what? Fuck it.

Eddie: 🙂

Evan Buckley: yesss smiley gang!!!

Eddie sucked his lip between his teeth to try to stop the obscene grin he’d been about to have.

Evan Buckley: so is mr christopher getting a sort of surprise in the mail soon?? 👀👀👀👀 

Evan Buckley is… so enthusiastic. Eddie’s not sure he could keep up with his energy in the daytime after a night’s rest, if his energy at two in the fucking morning is anything to go by. Not that Eddie would ever be in a situation where he’d have to keep up with Evan Buckley apart from this very text conversation. 

Eddie didn’t have a P.O. box—what the hell would he use it for?—but in this moment he damn wished he did. He briefly considered texting him the station’s address, but decided he’d rather not give him more personal information than necessary, like his workplace and friends and—Eddie shook his head to untangle his racing thoughts. He didn’t really think Evan Buckley would use any of his information maliciously. Not with the way he texted Eddie like they were best friends. Not with the way he was a nervous mess about coming off as a creeper. Not with the way he seemed so genuinely excited about sending gifts to a kid he doesn’t know, to Eddie’s kid. 

Evan Buckley: eddieee did you fall asleep? 💤 

He breathed in deeply, hoping he wasn’t making a brilliant mistake, and sent “Yeah, he is.” with his address.

Evan Buckley: sweet!!! can’t wait to get this shipped out to him! 💗🦸📦✨  

Jesus christ, Evan Buckley fucking loved emojis. And it was so fucking endearing.

Eddie: He is going to be so happy. Thank you, really.

Evan Buckley: of course!! you’re gonna have to wear sunglasses inside now, that smile of his is bright enough already!

Eddie briefly, in a slight panic, wondered how the hell Evan Buckley knew what his son’s smile looked like, until he remembered this whole conversation was happening because his son’s smile was all over TikTok. 

Eddie: You should throw a pair in for me then. 

Evan Buckley: can do!! 

Evan Buckley: you = 😎 

Evan Buckley: chris = 😁

Evan Buckley: chris’s smile = 🌞 

Eddie: Can’t argue with that math.

Evan Buckley: no you cannot. 😬

Their texts went radio silent. Eddie found himself wide awake, not wanting the conversation to end. He thought about asking about that “long day,” but thought better of it, repeating to himself that “They weren’t friends” and that “It wasn’t any of his business.” But he really didn’t want to stop talking, and things were going well already so… fuck it.

Eddie: So you said you had a long day?

The response was immediate.

Evan Buckley: yeah!

Evan Buckley: lotta filming, lotta meetings, lotta boring and exHaUsTiNg CRAP

Evan Buckley: happy to be home though 😊❤️🛌

Evan Buckley: wbu? how was your day? 😊

The immediate reaction of disbelief that Evan Buckley was asking about his day felt almost unnatural, despite its instinctiveness. It felt normal somehow. Natural. Easy. Which is how Eddie found himself saying “Fuck it” for what felt like the umpteenth time that day, and telling Evan Buckley about his own long day, completely bypassing any earlier hesitation to give him any more personal information. 

The texting kept going. They talked about Eddie’s every day hero (Buck’s words) work. About the Mad Power finale. About Chris’s theories. About TikToks in general (even sending a few back and forth). About ducks of all things. About ducks like the living animal, ducks like the edible poultry, the deliciousness of chicken tacos, were there duck tacos?, and the reasonableness of having a bowl of cereal for dinner (Eddie assured Buck this was perfectly reasonable). They’d been talking and talking without pause for so long that Eddie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he noticed the clock reading: 3:44.

Eddie: Holy fuck it’s late

Evan Buckley: shiiiiiiit it is!!!11

At the same time, they sent:

Evan Buckley: you going to bed? 🌕😴 

Eddie: I think I’m gonna get to sleep now. 

Evan Buckley: okay!! sounds good. you get that rest captain bennman! 🦸🔥💤  

Eddie’s breath caught a little about Evan Buckley calling him his own character’s name, but he composed himself quickly. 

Eddie: Goodnight. 🙂

Evan Buckley: goodnight eddie 🙂

Eddie set his phone on the nightstand and turned out the light. He’d barely been lying there for three minutes when his phone buzzed again. His laugh was muffled by the pillow, but his grin pushed at his sleepily re-opening eyes. He threw his arm back to grab the phone, bringing its dim glow around to rest on his face.

Evan Buckley: i had a really great time talking to you tonight. thank you, for this. seriously. 

Eddie smiled deeper and felt his chest tighten a little. 

Eddie: Yeah, me too. It’s no problem. :)

Evan Buckley: :)

Buck had a problem. 

And that problem took form in the shape of five letters (and now one firetruck emoji) in a cell phone contact.

He’d only had Eddie for one day, but if anything happened to him he’d kill everyone in the room and then himself.

Or maybe not really, but a similar feeling consumed his every thought. Buck just couldn’t get enough of him.

The next week Buck had texted Eddie at any spare moment he could find, and it seemed like Eddie had been doing the same. Buck had gotten into the habit of rereading messages when he had a few minutes and Eddie hadn’t gotten back to him yet, but quicker than he’d really noticed, the message thread had become something of a Homeric epic, and things got buried fast. 

Losing some of his favorite messages to memory was, to understate, a tragedy. Fortunately, Buck was a fast learner who realized he should start screenshotting the best ones before they were sent to the 01 abyss. Like this conversation from their third night of texting: 

Eddie 🚒: I’ll buy that for a dollar.

Buck: ???

Eddie 🚒: Don’t tell me you don’t get that reference.

Buck: that was a reference?? 🤨👀

Buck: to WHAT ?  i am LOST ! 🕵️🗺🔍📖 

Eddie 🚒: It must have been before your time.

Buck: !!!1??/?/

Buck: before my time!!??? 

Buck: before my time eddie HOW OLD ARE YOU??

Buck: [confused old man.gif]

Eddie 🚒: I’m 34.

Buck: 😱 

Buck: holy shit you ARE old

Buck: 💀💀💀 

Buck: 👴😵💀👻 

Buck: RIIIIIIP

Buck: sorry eddie i can’t talk to you anymore you’re an old man and i am but a teen young and bright with my whole life ahead of me

Eddie 👴: Oh shut the fuck up.

Buck: 😱😱😱😱😱 

Eddie 👴: (That was sarcastic btw.)

Buck: SWEAR JAR!!!!

Buck: DO I NEED TO TELL CHRISTOPHER??

Buck: i will write him a note and stick it in the gift box telling him you need to add a few extra dollars and don’t for a second think i won’t 

Buck: (😊😉)

Buck: (proud of you for using acronyms <3)

Eddie 👴: 😒

Buck: proud of that too

Eddie 👴: 🖕 

Buck: 😁😍😚 

Eddie 👴: Stop it.

Buck: 😚😚😚😚😚😚 

Buck: btw i changed the emoji in your contact to an old man 😄

Eddie 👴: Emoji in my contact?

Buck: yeah! it was just your name for a bit until you mentioned you were a firefighter so then it was a firetruck 🚒, but now it’s an old man 👴 because you’re old AF!! 😉😉😬 

Eddie 👴: Why would you put an emoji in my contact?

Buck: because it’s fun! 

Buck: 🍻🦦♑️🗽🏳️🌈🥳🧸🍎🎄

Eddie 👴: Oh my god you are actually a child.

Buck: yes! & you’re old 🙃 

Buck: sux 2 b u

Buck: [that cringey ass frat boy emoji meme.jpg]

Eddie 👴: What the hell is that? I’m going to bed.

Buck: beautiful, that’s what it is 😎

Buck: like actually going to bed or just joking?

Eddie 👴: Like actually.

Buck: okay goodnight eddie!! 💤🌙🛌

Eddie 👴: Goodnight, Evan. 🌙 

Buck: buck, call me buck

Eddie 👴: Goodnight, *Buck. 

Buck: 😊😊

It was one of many energetic, spirit-lifting, and dare he say it flirty conversations they’d had over the last week or so, and damn was Buck living for them. He probably needed to upgrade his phone’s storage space to fit the hundreds of screenshots he was now accumulating. 

Their friendship (Could he say it was a friendship? Yeah, sure.) had come so quickly to them that it was already hard to remember what life had been like Before Eddie. All Buck knows is that now, After Eddie—or During Eddie more likely, especially considering the fact Buck never wanted there to be an After Eddie at all—he’s been feeling really fuckin happy. 

And honestly, he could admit it though it really was quite elementary to say so, he kind of had a crush on the guy. 

And he knows that that’s silly and illogical and that he’s really only known him at all for a few days, but there’s a reason why he can’t stop quoting Rosa Diaz, and that reason is that Eddie is a really fucking great guy . He’s funny and he’s sweet. He saves lives for a living for real, not just on tv. He has such a smart and adorable son Buck would love to meet. He’s just great to talk to. Buck could talk to him forever if Eddie’d let him. 

Eddie’s a really fucking great guy. And Buck can’t get enough. 

He’s already told Maddie about him.

“What can I say, Mads? I’m a hopeless romantic,” he’d said when she teased him for catching feelings so soon. 

Apparently she thought the sentiment was worth repeating. “And they called it puppy love,” she sing-songed, the words coming out staticky through the speaker.

Buck made an unimpressed face, well, he tried to, but he couldn’t keep his own giggles in. “That’s cute,” he said, smiling down at his sister’s face on his phone screen.

“Thank you,” Maddie said cheerily. A door shutting echoed from the phones’ speakers, followed by the muffled voice of someone far from Maddie’s own phone. Maddie said quietly, “On facetime with Evan,” and her face turned back on the screen. “Howie’s here for Buffriday,” she said, and did a little dance of excitement.

A minute later a man settled on the back of the armchair Maddie was sitting in. “Hey, Buck,” Chimney said with a cheery smile. “How you doing?”

“I’m great,” Buck said sincerely, returning Chimney’s smile, and before he could return the question Maddie interrupted.

“Evan caught feelings for this guy he’s been talking to for like a week and he says it’s because he’s a hopeless romantic,” she hurried out before Buck could stop her.

Chimney chuckled. “Or maybe just hopeless,” he said quietly. 

“Hey!”

“Kidding,” he said sincerely with nod. “So who’s the guy?” he asked, back to his usual teasing lilt, “Do I know him?” He waggled his eyebrows and winked as if to say 'Of course I won’t know him, he’s probably some big Hollywood superstar that you met at a yacht party.'

Buck laughed softly, and thought for a moment. He didn’t know much about Chimney except that he was madly in love with his sister, worked for the LAFD, and that his friends called him Chimney…for some reason. (Buck picked up the nickname as a joke at first, but it stuck and now he can’t call him anything else.) 

“I, uh, I don’t know. You might? He says he’s a firefighter.” Chimney’s eyes widened slightly. “His name is Eddie. Eddie Diaz.” 

Chimney made a series of conflicting faces in such rapid succession Buck was mildly worried there was something genuinely wrong with him before he spoke, in a clear and steady voice. “Nope, never heard of him.” He leaned forward on his elbow and cradled his chin in his hand. “Tell me more about this Eddie,” he said and flashed the widest grin Buck had ever seen him make.

Buck could feel his face warm at the thought of gushing about his feelings to anyone but his sister, but this was Chimney, and Chimney was Maddie’s boyfriend-definitely-soon-to-be-fiance-if-only-they’d-just-admit-to-theselves-that-they’re-it-for-each-other so he was basically family. Besides, he was a pretty chill dude who could probably keep a few secrets. Probably. Chim has done a great job so far at not telling him why he’s even called Chimney in the first place, so yeah, definitely probably. Buck wasn’t actually sure, but honestly, he kinda really did just want to talk about Eddie some more so he decided to trust Chim to keep quiet. 

Buck launched into story, with Maddie and Chim, the dutiful listeners, cooing and laughing at all the right moments. Buck felt the ease of contentment settle into his bones as he spoke. He had a really good feeling about 'this Eddie.'

Buck talked endlessly about all the silly conversations he’d had with him. All the sweet texts he thought meant a little more than friendship. All the times he’d thought to ask for a photo, but was afraid of scaring him off.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Chimney swiped his hand over his chin. “You’re telling me you’re in love with this guy and you don’t even know what he looks like?”

Buck felt his cheeks flush. “I’m not in love with him.” Maddie and Chimney shared matching raised eyebrows. “And no, I don’t. He was super worried about privacy and everything so I didn’t want to freak him out.”

Chimney nodded, to Buck’s surprise. “Y’know what, that makes sense,” he said conclusively. Maddie glanced at him sideways, but didn’t say anything. Neither did Buck.

“He’s probably got a nice ass,” Chimney said, wiggling his eyebrows. Maddie spit out a sip of wine she’d been drinking.

“Uh,” Buck fumbled for a second. “Yeah.” He paused and heaved a breath. 

He’d thought a lot about it. What Eddie might look like. He couldn’t figure out which features he liked most, the picture of Eddie in his mind rotating constantly. He decided he didn’t need to know what Eddie looked like. He loved him already.

Not loved, no, definitely not loved. He barely knew him, though the hour he just spent tangenting about him said otherwise. He just really, really, really…liked him. He liked him.

There was some shifting and quiet murmuring from Maddie’s end of the phone, and Buck waited patiently for the inevitable goodbye. 

“Hey, Evan,” Maddie said finally turning to the phone again, “We’ve gotta go.” She smiled sweetly at him. “I love you! Talk again next Friday?”

“Definitely. I love you too.” Buck smiled, without an ounce of falsity, but he still felt the pang of loneliness when the call hung up.

He was seconds from allowing himself a few minutes of silent lamenting about not having any Friday night plans—which he’d quickly feel better about when he got to bask in the fact that he had free time—when suddenly his phone was buzzing with another facetime call from Maddie.

He scrunched his face at the screen and hit accept.

“Buck!”

“Chim?”

“Buck, have you ever been to the coffee shop on Milton?”

Buck, very understandably, was taken pretty far aback. “What?”

“Milton Street. By that old arcade I go to with my work buddies. There’s a coffee shop,” Chim frantically gestured at the camera with his hands as he spoke, like he was trying to literally throw the words at Eddie. “It’s called Cafe La Luna—have you been there?”

“I—” Buck opened and closed his mouth a little dumbly. “I don’t know? I’m so confused. Can we start over?”

Chim sighed and smiled a little exasperatedly. “You’ve got a free afternoon right?” 

Buck nodded slowly and said, “Yeah, actually, I do.”

“You should go to there,” Chim said with finality. When Buck’s eyebrows continued scrunching like slinkies, Chim went on hurriedly.  “Like right now, you should go get some coffee. It’s incredible stuff and they’ve got these Friday discounts that end in like half an hour.” 

“Okay,” Buck said slowly, not exactly sure what he was agreeing to.

“Really, you should do it.” Chim was nodding emphatically and Buck found himself copying the movement.

“Yeah,” he said, still nodding. “Yeah, okay, I will.” He was pretty sure he was being hypnotized right now. 

“Okay, good! Gotta go, Buckaroo. Enjoy your coffee!” And he hung up.

Buck blinked at the phone screen a few times, not entirely sure what had just happened. 

He didn’t particularly want to go out and get coffee at two in the afternoon, but he found himself pulling on his boots and grabbing his wallet anyway. He supposed getting out of the house might make himself feel a little better about spending the afternoon by himself. He’d always preferred sharing down time with company over being alone. So what wordlessly passing dozens of people walking down busy LA streets didn’t actually count as company. The haunting quiet after hanging up wasn’t good company either. 

So that’s how Buck found himself speeding up from his leisurely stroll to a flight-response brisk pace when he caught the rapid flashing of a camera just past him. Fucking hell. 

After a minute of speed-walking and impressive maneuvering through passersby, Buck thought he’d lost the asshole. But the day had other plans because suddenly there the bastard was, standing right in front of him, their thumb pressed heavily into a button on a tape recorder, their other hand holding up a gigantic camera steady on their chest. 

“Evan Buckley,” the paparazzi said, “Are you on your way to meet Taylor Kelly for a date?”

“That’s so random,” Buck said with annoyance, “And no for the thirtieth time, I am not dating Taylor Kelly. We are co-workers.”

“Well, what about that girl you’re always talking to? Maddie?” Buck actually laughed at that.

“Maddie? ” He fully stopped to look the pest in the face to ask, full seriousness, “You mean my sister? You’re telling me that you’re creepy enough to know her name , but not that she’s my family. ”

He couldn’t believe it when they muttered out a weak, “Yes?” But what he could believe was the way they barrelled right past the callout to ask even more absurd and out of pocket questions. “Evan Buckley, you’ve denied that you are in a relationship with Taylor Kelly specifically—does that mean you are in a relationship? Are you on your way to meet someone right now?”

Buck doesn’t know why he said it. Or why the thought even came to him, or if it even ever did really. Honestly, the words could have just slipped out without his direction, but there they were, out in the the open for the recorder shoved in his face and his own shocked ears to hear: “Yes. Now go away.”

He turned to leave and thankfully, they let him go. He heaved a deep sigh of relief and completely debilitating fear. 

Why the fuck had he said that?  

He wasn’t on his way to meet someone. He’s not dating anyone. Why would he say that?

Maybe it was all an accident. A massive slip of his tongue that he hadn’t meant to say and he panicked. Maybe he just really wanted that damn parasite to go away and he said the first thing that popped into his head. Something juicy that they’d run to their heads of staff with yelling about how they’d gotten the best dirt on Evan Buckley. Maybe he couldn’t help himself and the reason it was the first thing to pop into his head in the first place is because he really hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Eddie and god did he ever want to be in a relationship with him.

Just when Buck had started to worry about the possible repercussions of Eddie seeing a news piece about “Evan Buckley’s secret relationship,” in a situation where Eddie returns his feelings, the repercussions being that Eddie flips his shit thinking that Buck had been leading him on and cheating on his supposedly existent partner, he realized he’d arrived at the coffee shop and was spared any further anxious spiraling.

He opened the door and a cool breeze from the AC hit him in the face. The shop smelled heavenly, all coffee and sweet scents, and Buck’s mouth was watering. 

He lined up behind, well, behind an absolutely gorgeous looking guy. He was wearing dark wash not quite skinny but definitely tight fitting jeans, huge dark boots that could kick a door down, and what appeared to be an unnecessarily small LAFD tee shirt—not that Buck was complaining about that. Buck allowed himself a cursory appreciation of the way the man’s clothes hugged him in all the best ways that had Buck’s mouth watering for an entirely different reason. 

He waited patiently for the line to move up, and when the man in front of him spoke to order his coffee, Buck found his knees buckling beneath him at that deliciously deep voice. 

The man moved to stand at the other end of the counter, turning so his front was to Buck, though his face was tilted down towards his phone. His face lit up in a blinding smile at something on the screen. And if there was any sliver of a thought about that nasty encounter with the reporter left in Buck’s head it sure as hell wasn’t there anymore because Buck was so caught off guard at just how unfairly attractive this guy was. He swore he could hear Salt-N-Pepa’s “Whatta Man” playing over the coffee shop’s speakers, and all he could think was “Yes.”  

“Excuse me? Can I help you?” 

Buck shook his head from his daze and stepped up to the counter, already starting his apology, when the barista not all that shockingly interrupted him to say, “Oh my god.” He sighed  inwardly and smiled genuinely. 

“Yeah,” he said, a tiny laugh escaping. 

“Oh my god, you’re Evan Buckley.” 

“That’s me,” Buck said gently. He glanced at the girl’s nametag. “May, could I get a Fancy Schmancy Latte?”

May’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly recovered, and said, “I am so sorry. Yes, one Fancy Schmancy Latte.” She smiled at him. “Name on the cup?”

“Buck,” he said, grateful she even asked instead of just writing his whole name. 

“Buck,” she repeated and scribbled it out on the cup. She glanced over at the man stood at the other end of the counter. “The machine was malfunctioning. Your coffees will be up in a minute,” she said casually like she knew him.

“Thanks, May,” Buck heard the man say, his voice trailing a little at the end.

“And could I get a few of those danishes?” Buck said, pointing to some truly delectable looking pastries in the glass case.

“Absolutely,” May said. She tapped a few buttons out on the register and told him his total. 

After paying he made his way over to the waiting end of the counter to find the hot stranger frozen where he stood, staring blank faced and slack jawed directly at Buck. 

Buck laughed a little nervously. “Can I, uh, can I help you?” He smiled at the man.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he said, sounding more shocked than anything, but there seemed to be a little bit of hostility in the undertones, which made sense with the words, but not with the clear amusement of his growing smile.

“Not a fan?” Buck asked teasingly. He stuck his hands in his pockets and did a little restless bounce.

The man seemed to realize he was staring because he blinked, for possibly the first time in several moments. He opened and closed his mouth apparently unsatisfied with everything he’d been about to say before settling on, “Are you stalking me?”

Buck didn’t even have it in him be offended by such a brash accusation because he was so blindsided by how absolutely absurd and entirely untrue it was. Not to mention the man’s eyes were twinkling with delighted mischief. 

Through barely concealed laughter Buck said, “What? Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in my life.” He scoffed appreciatively, and looked him up and down with a purposeful look. “I promise you I would remember if I had.”

“Order for Eddie!” A travel tray of coffees settled onto the counter next to the man, who had returned to staring unabashedly at Buck.

Buck quickly put things together. The LAFD tee shirt. The shock, amusement, and flirtatiousness in the man’s every move. He thought back to the start of that first night they’d texted. “I promise I’m not gonna stalk you or anything.” It was Buck’s turn to gape unblinkingly.

“Wait,” Buck said, taking a step forward. “Eddie?” He could feel his own smile reaching his ears. “Eddie Diaz?”

The man laughed a sigh and looked down at his feet with a blinding smile.

“Eddie Diaz the father of @theCaptainChristopher?” Buck asked, giggling at the dumbstruck and disbelieving tone in his own voice.

“Yes?” Eddie said, finally looking up at Buck’s face, and Buck was pleased to see a light blush to his cheeks.

“Holy shit,” Buck said, laughing. Holy shit. 

Holy shit this was Eddie. Holy shit Eddie was hot . 

Holy shit.

“Holy shit,” Eddie echoed. 

“Oh my god this is amazing,” Buck said ecstatic, leaning back and gesturing with his hands. He smirked at Eddie—at Eddie!—and leaned in. “Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” he teased.

“This is not happening right now,” Eddie said, ignoring Buck’s quip. His eyes raked Buck’s body with undisguised hunger as he shook his head slowly. “This is—this is fake,” he said definitively, punctuating with pursed lips and raised eyebrows. He nodded, as if that would make the statement true and repeated, “This is fake.”

“Or it’s fate,” Buck said, a singular nod of his own aimed at Eddie’s face below his, one eyebrow raised. 

Eddie groaned. “Oh, don’t you start.” He waved his hand aimlessly like he was going to playfully slap Buck, decided against it, and detoured. 

In a thoughtless instinct Buck reached out and grabbed it. 

And fucking hell if Buck didn’t feel something sparkling in his gut like all those cliche moments in movies he so desperately wants to experience himself in reality.

Though he’s quite literally a man of action, always talking with his hands and jumping around, and he’s an actor for fuck’s sake, Buck is frozen in the spot. He hadn’t planned to take Eddie’s hand, but now that he had it he didn’t know what to do with it. Eddie seemed just as immobile. 

They stared at each other for a moment, smiling shyly, their hands dangling together between them. Buck rubbed his thumb lightly overtop Eddie’s fingers. Eddie glanced away the second the movement started, but his smile never waivered, growing larger if anything.

“This cannot be happening,” Eddie mumbled to the counter. 

Buck took a step closer, raising their hands closer to their chests. “Why are you fighting this?” he asked, a teasing glimmer in his eye Eddie couldn’t see because he was far too interested in the marble on the furniture.

“Order for Buck!” A coffee and brown paper bag settled on the counter next to Eddie’s untouched tray of coffees, startling them from their two party reverie.

Eddie cleared his throat and dropped his hand from Buck’s. He patted around his hips mindlessly, like he was searching his pockets for something though there was no need. He finally looked back at Buck, a nervous look taking over his features. “I uh—” he began, pausing to reach for the coffees. He stepped back with one foot before taking two hesitant steps forward, toward Buck. “Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” Buck said, grinning madly.

“I need to go,” Eddie said, raising the coffee tray as if it explained everything. “I’m running late.” His lack of urgency, and the fact he didn’t make for the door argued that excuse. He looked back to the floor.

Buck’s smile didn’t flinch, but the sad twist in his chest did all the talking for him, saying he really did not want Eddie to go. He reached a tentative hang out to Eddie’s wrist. He waited until Eddie’s gaze raised from the floor to Buck’s eyes before he said, as sincerely as humanly possible, “It was really nice seeing you.”

Eddie finally smiled again, bright and beautiful, and Buck’s breath hitched at just how cute his teeth were. “Yeah, me too.” His eyebrows scrunched when he realized what he’d said, but his smile stayed put. “I mean,” he laughed, “It was really nice seeing you .” 

“I’ll bet.” Holy shit, Buck’s face hurt from smiling.

Eddie shook his head, his mouth closing into a cute, little, pursed-lipped smile, like he was trying to keep it in. “I really do have to go now,” he said. He glanced at Buck’s hand on his wrist and smiled again before stepping away, in the direction of the doors. 

Buck watched him go, head twisted around because he didn’t trust his feet to stay sturdy enough to turn. Eddie stopped about halfway through the shop and turned around. He pointed at Buck, one hand carefully holding the drinks steady at his chest. 

He appeared to be contemplating something, maybe whether he should say what he clearly wanted to. Buck smiled encouragingly and raised his eyebrows just slightly. It was enough because Eddie took a deep breath and said, “I’ll call you later.” He dropped his hand and turned around without waiting for a response.

Buck responded anyway, yelling “I’ll be waiting!” across the shop with so much enthused energy a few patrons shot him harried looks. Eddie glanced back with a wicked smile as he pushed open the door, a little jingling bell and the static in Buck’s brain the soundtrack to his adoring sigh and smile as Eddie disappeared into the afternoon sunlight. 

Buck didn’t know how long he stood there in the shop, twiddling with his coffee and sipping it as he stared at the front door, like he expected Eddie to walk back through any minute. Eventually, his feet remembered how to function and he made his way back to his apartment.

When Eddie finally reached him later it wasn’t a phone call, but a text, not even responding to any of Buck’s waiting messages:

Buck: so i was watching animal planet and did you know that elephants communicate through vibrations?? d’you think if i jump on this floor hard enough you’ll feel it??

Buck: i am jumping so hard right now eddie can you feel me saying hello???

Eddie 👴: Hey, Buck. There was a pretty bad call at work and things are pretty hectic. Probably won’t be able to call you tonight, but I’ll try for tomorrow. I know I already said it, but it was really nice seeing you today. I was totally not prepared for it, as I’m sure you noticed, but I’m really glad we ran into each other. 🙂

And in an act that made Buck obscenely proud, Eddie double texted:

Eddie 👴: Still not convinced you’re not stalking me though. 

Buck flopped back on his bed and smiled up at his phone. He typed out a single text, partly so he wasn’t spamming Eddie when he likely had to stay focused, but mostly in a cheeky mimic of Eddie’s texting habits he hoped beyond reason he caught on to.

Buck: it’s okay, i’ll wait as long as i have to. hope everything goes okay. be safe! 😊🍀 good luck! (still pinky promise i’m not stalking you eddie. 💕)

Buck hit send, those little pink hearts shooting daggers at his nerves, but he paid them no mind. 

He fell asleep to thoughts of strong arms and gentle smiles.