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(made by sophie// mint_syrup_)
“You have got to be kidding me!”
At the rate the one-eighteen is running under Gerrard’s command, Buck doesn’t even look up from the tuna sandwich he’s munching on as he’s comfortably laid across the loft’s couch. Drama has become an essential part of their firefighting lives, what, with the recent changes to the team taken into consideration. So what if Chimney is shouting at seven in the morning, before anyone’s even had their first dose of caffeine?
Albert, however, is curious.
“What’s wrong now?” He makes sure to say it in the kind of voice siblings use for each other — irritated to a fault.
Chimney trots all the way from the fridge to the lounging area, fuming.
“Someone stole my food again,” he complains to Albert. “I had it labeled! On all sides of the wrapper, so no one gets confused. But some son of a B, probably from C-shift, stole it. Stole my tuna sandwich that I specifically left my house a half hour earlier for!”
Buck’s incessant chewing dwindles down to something slow and careful. He looks down at the sandwich in his hand and sees it. In Chimney’s doctor-like scrawl, his name written all across it.
At the same time, Albert, the fucking traitor, motions for Chim to look over at him. Chim audibly gasps.
“You little—” But shit goes unsaid, as it’s at that time Gerrard limps up the stairs.
“Coffee, then morning briefing, fellas,” he grits, smacking his lips like he’s missing teeth. Buck thinks no amount of caffeine would put this guy in a good mood. Not when he’s been tasked to oversee the alphabet people & co, as he so affectionately refers to the one-eighteen.
They yawn through said briefing, Chimney throwing the occasional daggers at Buck with his eyes, and are quickly after called onto a breakfast gone-bad when a pair of college students decide it’s a good idea to water the oily grilled cheese that caught on fire.
It’s only later, when they've arrived at a celebrity mobbing incident — for whatever reason, the dispatcher has deemed their involvement necessary — that Chimney’s irritation with him ceases, for said call is located next to his second favorite sandwich place in Greater Los Angeles.
“Once we’re done here, you’re getting me one,” Chimney orders as they head towards the crowd. “And I want it fresh and warm.”
“I’ll think about it,” Buck teases back, just to screw with him some more.
Chimney, rightfully so, pokes his side.
It’s a messy morning in the life of Eddie and Christopher Diaz. His alarm doesn’t go off. Their egg-related incident leaves them both hungry and irritated. The amount of traffic makes them late to the dressing room. Hen presents him with a takeaway cup of coffee, only to later reveal to him that it’s decaf.
The cherry on top happens on set — someone on Twitter leaks their filming location for the day, so two thousand fans turn up on an already crowded Los Angeleno street to snoop around and get themselves hurt in the process.
Eddie generally loves his job, loves hiding behind someone else, loves the pay when Christopher’s medical bills turn up in his mail every month. But there are downsides to acting, of course. Especially when you make it out of the curb and your newest series becomes a big hit. Over the past two years, Eddie’s been forced to grow used to being in the eye of the public, lacking any semblance of his life remaining private. He tries to keep Christopher out of it to the best of his ability, though.
Thus, Eddie leaves him in the protection of Hen and Karen in the production van, before he makes his secret escape through the mob and sneaks into an empty coffee shop.
He orders himself a fully caffeinated Americano and hides in the shade of a large plant by the window, overlooking the scene. Alongside a few cops, a fire station has arrived to look after the fans who suffered some injuries from falling over by the force of the mob. Funnily enough, the number on their engine says 118, same as his station on the show.
He sips his coffee in peace, occasionally texting Karen for updates. Checks Twitter, scrolls past a bunch of shots the mob has taken of the set, and groans into his cup.
When the door to the coffee shop chimes open, Eddie nearly jumps. If it’s a fan and they spot him—
Except, it isn’t a fan. Not in the slightest.
Doesn’t mean Eddie’s heartbeat calms, however.
Because there, early morning sunshine shaping his figure, stands a firefighter in a suspender uniform that accents his biceps, oh, very deliciously. He’s sliding back his sweat-caught curls, exposing to his view a pink birthmark adorning his eye. And Eddie? Eddie’s practically drooling.
The firefighter makes his way to the counter and mumbles something he can’t hear from his secret spot. But when the birthmark-man swings around after paying, he notices Eddie anyway.
“Oh, hey! Didn’t realize another station was called. Which one are you from?” he rasps, like he hasn’t spoken in a bit. It definitely doesn’t make the air on the back of Eddie’s neck goosebump.
Eddie stares at him, baffled. Why does this guy think he’s a—? Oh. Right. He’s wearing the set uniform.
“Sorry, I’m Buck, from the one-eighteen,” he carries on. “Are you here because of the mobbing incident?”
So, this Buck guy thinks he’s a real firefighter. It’s not that Eddie thinks he’s Taylor Swift level famous, but he’d kind of expect firefighters to recognize him due to the show. If he were a real one, he’d definitely watch firefighter shows. He knows a few from Twitter who binge Hotshots religiously and spam his notifications after the release of every new episode. There’s a guy called Chimney, whose takes make him cackle.
“Kind of,” says Eddie, regaining his voice. “Why aren't you out there?”
“I’m not a paramedic, so I’m pretty useless out there. Besides, I owe my friend a tuna sandwich,” says Buck, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I sorta ate his by mistake.”
“How do you eat someone’s sandwich by mistake?” wonders Eddie, squinting at him.
Buck flushes all over.
“You know how it is, with a shared fridge. Sometimes you forget to read labels.”
Eddie doesn't know. But he nods anyway.
It’s at that time the barista calls Buck over to hand him his heated sandwich. Eddie onlooks as he leaves her a generous tip and flashes a smile in goodbye. A sorta flirtatious one. But who knows? Maybe that’s just the way this Buck guy smiles.
Before leaving, Buck stops to look at him again. “Well, have a nice coffee! You deserve it, uh—”
“Eddie,” he supplies.
“Eddie,” Buck tests it on his lips. “Good luck on your shift!”
“You too,” answers Eddie weakly.
And then Buck is out of the door.
“At least this time around you’re not kissing any lesbians while drunk,” is Lucy’s helpful input.
Buck groans. “It was one time! And I didn’t know you were a lesbian.”
“Your gaydar is so non-functional, it’s lucky you find hookups in the first place.”
Sometimes Buck feels like his friends are only around to bully him, but whatever.
He throws back a tequila shot and slams the glass against the sticky table of the first-responder bar they frequent after their 12-hour shifts. Ravi and Albert are dancing along to a Sabrina Carpenter song on the jukebox, Maddie and Chimney have gone to get more drinks, and he’s stuck at their booth being interrogated by Lucy. Gerrard, quite obviously, didn’t get an invite.
“I miss Bobby,” says Buck, sighing into his bowl of fries. “And Germ-rard is seriously making me lose my patience. Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t even like saving people, just enjoys the hell out of commanding us around.”
“Bobby will be back in no time,” promises Lucy. “Until then, you just gotta stick it out. Find something to keep you at bay on shift. For me? Picturing the wild sex I have with my girlfriend whenever I get a moment of her time.”
“I really don’t want to hear what you get up to in bed with my ex,” snides Buck.
“Boo-hoo. Not my fault you broke up with literally the hottest woman in all of LA.”
And Buck would say debatable, except he’s got a thing for redheads.
“Taylor texted me earlier, actually,” he comments, pulling out his phone. “Said something about needing my help on the set of a show she’s working on?”
“That would be Hotshots, the show she’s making about firefighters — the same one Bobby’s advising for, actually,” says Lucy, before sipping her margarita. “She’s doing a whole storyline for the new season, inspired by your good deeds.”
Buck raises a brow. “My good deeds?”
“The tsunami,” she clarifies. “She wrote all you did back then into the script.”
Buck deflates. He doesn’t like thinking about the tsunami. How he got separated from the team and ended up on top of a floating fire engine, trying to drag as many people to safety as possible. How he lost that kid, Christopher, and never ended up finding out what happened to him. Never found him. Never saved him.
He visited the tsunami memorial a bunch of times, trying to find a missing person poster that resembled the kid. He never saw one.
He simply sips his cocktail and doesn’t speak again until the rest of the team returns to the booth and starts their usual ranting about Gerrard’s irritable practices as Captain.
He falls asleep that night, buzzed and rattled, screaming Christopher’s name in his dreams.
One thing about Hotshots that makes Eddie feel like he’s twenty again, fighting for some space in the world of acting, is the special gig Taylor Kelly assigned him to at the start of the show, craving authenticity.
Thus, when it came to finding voice actors for the Spanish dub of Hotshots, Taylor proposed Eddie and Christopher could voice themselves. Eddie figured Christopher needed the practice after spending so long away from his Spanish-speaking abuelos, and he quickly agreed.
And every Tuesday morning during production, they find themselves gagging as they swallow a raw egg yolk to prepare for hours upon hours of talking into a microphone. Eddie doesn’t think the extra cash is worth it, but Christopher finds dubbing fun, so who is he to complain aloud?
“Did you know another real firefighter is coming to set?” his son asks, as he settles into the passenger seat of Eddie’s Jeep. Ever since he turned thirteen in the summer, he refuses to sit in the back. I’m not a loser, he claims.
“Oh?” asks Eddie absent-mindedly, trying to keep his eyes focused on the road as he pulls out of their driveway. “Is Captain Nash not enough for Taylor?”
“Nothing is enough for Taylor,” laughs Christopher and, yeah, he’s right. “She said she used to date the guy she’s bringing to set. Apparently, he’s the one who inspired her book in the first place. She was a TV reporter before she became a writer slash producer, did you know?”
“Nope,” says Eddie. Taylor is pretty closed-off when it comes to him. She hands him the scripts, commands him around, and that’s about it for their relationship. It’s strictly professional. Same thing can’t be said about Taylor and Christopher, though. She adores his kid, even if she isn’t the biggest fan of children. But then again, who wouldn’t adore Christopher?
“Well, she met him when her News helicopter crashed. He was the one to save her,” Christopher carries on. “After that, they dated for a few years, during which she started writing Close To The Flame, inspired by everything she witnessed him do. He had no idea.”
Typical Taylor.
“So, what happened? Why did they break up?” Eddie wonders at the next red light on their way to the recording studio. He watches as Christopher shrugs, tapping his finger against the window.
“She didn’t say. Sometimes people just drift apart, I guess.”
Eddie hums, looking back at the road. He knows a thing or two about drifting apart. Knows that when you get to the part of the relationship where you’re simply sticking it out, it’s time to take a step back and figure out what it is you truly want.
And right now, Eddie’s focus is simply on providing for Christopher. Ensuring he has a good, happy life. So, he asks.
“Hey, Chris, you want some hot choc to drown out the gross egg?”
His son immediately grows more chipper, and agrees.
Buck might’ve gotten just a little bit too drunk last night. For he wakes up from a text from Tommy, in response to his own drunkenly sent message at 1am on the dot.
Tommy-Copter 🚁
—
1:00 AM
heeeeeeeey! 😀 how’s it going? are you free in the morning to grab breakfast?
8:01 AM
?
We broke up 7 months ago
Delete my number
Well, fuck Tommy then. It’s not like Buck ever wants to endure that disaster of a man again, no matter what lonely spiral his drunken brain conjured up last night.
Still, breakfast out doesn’t sound half bad, so he decides to treat himself before he’s on the clock. He can be irresponsible with his money. It’s not like he has anyone to provide for, to care for, despite how desperately he wishes he did.
Some slightly hungover getting ready later, Buck stumbles into the brunch place near the station that serves warm donuts exactly at this hour, and takes a while to make his pick. By this point, he knows the waiters by name and greets them warmly.
He notices Valerie flushing as she speeds through an order despite it not being particularly busy, and raises a brow at her.
“Sorry, be right with you,” she says, nearly knocking over the syrup bottles.
“No rush. Though, you seem to be rushing anyway.”
She blows a strand of hair off her forehead. “My favorite customer is here and I’m trying to prioritize. Don’t tell Jack though.”
“Here I thought I was your favorite customer,” Buck feigns offense.
Valerie winks at him. “A close second. The other one I have a bit of a crush on.” She proves her point by looking behind Buck’s shoulder and her cheeks flushing when she notices—
“Here you go, Eddie,” says Valerie, placing a tray with sandwiches, coffee and hot chocolate onto the counter. “I added another shot to your coffee for that extra boost for your recording.”
“Thanks, Val, I’ll need it.”
The voice sounds faintly familiar but Buck doesn't place it until Eddie comes to pick up the tray, right beside Buck. It’s that Eddie. Firefighter Eddie, from yesterday’s call. Except, this time around, he isn’t in uniform. Just a nicely fitting Henley that accents his, oh God, six pack.
He doesn't pay Buck any mind though, and simply picks up his tray to then return to his table. Buck would be offended if— Scratch that. He is offended.
He quickly places his order and wanders off farther into the brunch place to scout out Firefighter Eddie. He never caught his last name.
He finds him at a table behind a corner, outside everyone’s view, already gulping his coffee and typing away on his phone. The hot chocolate mug is placed in front of a seat occupied by a small Marvel-themed backpack.
“Hi!” greets Buck cheerily. “Eddie, right? From the mobbing call?”
Eddie looks up, dazed as he meets Buck’s eyes.
“Oh,” he exhales. “Hi?”
“I don’t mean to bother you,” carries on Buck. “Just fancy seeing you two days in a row. What a coincidence.”
“Coincidence, yeah,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. He’s nervously biting the inside of his cheek. “Look, if you want a picture or something— I’m not really in the mood. I’m out with my son. He’ll be back from the bathroom any moment and— Yeah.”
Buck scrunches his forehead. Why would he want a picture with him? Who does this guy think he is?
“Uh, I don't want anything from you,” he says. “Enjoy the time off with your son. Just wanted to say hi.”
“Well, you said it,” says Eddie.
“I did,” answers Buck. “I’ll be going now, then.”
“So long,” he deadpans in return.
Awkwardly, Buck steps backwards until he nearly slams into a snack cabinet. He recovers quickly though, making his way back to Valerie to pick up his order.
“I’ll take it to go instead,” he requests.
Eddie is not a believer of coincidences. Or screams from the universe. Or, recently, religion and all it entails. He’s a simple man that way, only believing in facts, concrete evidence, and what he can see, taste, and smell.
He doesn’t believe in accidentally running into the same guy two days in a row.
He’s had a stalker before. This woman, Marisol. He met her on set, seemingly by accident, then he met her at a hardware store, and then once more while grocery shopping, all within a week. It took him less than that to file a restraining order.
So, no, even if Firefighter Buck is a good-looking man — and by that he means, ridiculously hot, in and outside his uniform —, Eddie is not going to fall for it a second time. If he sees Buck around another time? He’s running the opposite direction to the nearest police station.
He’s resigned himself to hate him, to be wary of him.
So, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do when he walks into work with Christopher in tow on his next day of shooting, and there he is, sat in the director’s chair as he flips through a script with a semi-guarded, semi-confused expression.
“Go find Denny,” he quickly urges his son, before Buck can spot him.
Christopher scrunches his forehead. “Why?”
“Just do as I say!” Now is not the time for questions or theatrics.
Begrudgingly, Christopher crutches away to the dressing room to meet his best friend, both on the show and in real life.
Eddie straightens up and braves himself to face Buck, takes those last steps before he stills right before him, fists tightened against his sides in preparation for, well, anything. Who knows what this Buck guy is capable of? He’s a big guy.
When Buck keeps his attention on the script, Eddie clears his throat.
Buck looks up and flinches from his close proximity. And then his gaze settles on his face—
“Oh,” he breathes out, his expression undergoing a whirlwind of emotions. “Uh, what are you doing here?”
So, he’s keeping it up the pretense of not knowing who he is. Eddie’s smarter than this.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says. “Are you following me?”
Buck blinks. “Like, on Twitter? I don’t think so.”
But Eddie’s had enough of this. He gets in the guy’s face, wagging a finger at him. “Look, Buck. I don’t know what your problem is, but you better stay the hell away from me and my son, or I’ll deal with this legally. Got it?”
Buck doesn’t even flinch. In fact, he looks slightly amused.
But before he can answer, a familiar voice calls out his name.
“Buck, you came!”
And all Eddie can do is watch as Taylor fucking Kelly, the least affectionate person he knows, leans down to wrap Firefighter Buck into a short, but nevertheless, tight embrace. When they separate, Buck has a goofy grin spread across his cheeks.
“Always a pleasure, Taylor,” he says, looking her up and down. “I’d say I’ve missed you, but Lucy cannot shut up about you at work.”
Taylor grins. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen her smile. Didn’t think she was capable of it.
“Well, that makes two of us,” she says. “But you’re not here to distract me, so let’s not waste any time. I want to know what you’re thinking.” She points to the script. “Is it accurate? Any insights for what we could do to freshen it up before we start shooting? I want it to be top notch.”
Buck glances at the script again, fluttering his long eyelashes.
“The thing is…” he starts, uncertain, before he meets Taylor’s gaze again. “That’s not how it happened. You’re making this Ryan guy out to be a hero. But he was just doing his job. He doesn’t deserve, like, praise over it. Especially if he was saving his own son in the process. That's a natural fatherly instinct, isn’t it?”
Taylor rolls her eyes. That’s a sight Eddie’s more familiar with.
“So, you don’t think he deserves a Medal of Valor?”
Buck shrinks in on himself. “I don’t think he thinks he does.”
“We could spin it somehow,” carries on Taylor. “Say he did still get it. But he doesn’t feel deserving of it. Because he still lost Gavin in the tsunami, and it took a while to find him again. To return him to the loving arms of his father. And Ryan probably thinks he could’ve done more, could’ve saved him sooner.”
“Yeah,” agrees Buck. “I like that.”
“Good,” says Taylor. “Now, let’s go over the rescue itself. What do you think about—?”
Eddie zones out as Buck and Taylor discuss the logistics of the tsunami, the big emergency of season three of Hotshots. The same emergency during which, in real life, he nearly lost Christopher to the unforgiving waves of the Atlantic.
When Taylor first brought up the tsunami arc to Eddie, he freaked out. He told her he can’t do it, can’t relive something that happened to himself, not Ryan, the character. Because Taylor doesn’t hire stunt men all that often, ever the enthusiast of practical effects and avoiding extra costs. The tsunami itself, with Ryan and Gavin on the Santa Monica pier — it would be themselves reenacting it. It would be Eddie reenacting how he got separated from his son in the middle of a goddamn natural disaster, with no means to find him.
But after Christopher’s eagerness to play his part, Eddie had no choice but to agree to this plot, even if shooting it kills him inside. For Christopher, it feels therapeutic. He wants to go back there, back to being nine years old and being saved by a big, strong, unnamed firefighter.
A firefighter to whom Eddie owes everything. Someone he’ll always be grateful for, even if he never managed to find out his identity.
In the present, Taylor finally notices Eddie hovering around.
“This is the actor who plays Ryan, Eddie Diaz,” Taylor tells Buck. “He’s our main guy on the show. I figured you could give him some pointers for how to play the part in the tsunami, from your first-hand experience.”
Buck considers Eddie, sternly and carefully. “Actor,” he says, thoughtful.
And Eddie feels like the biggest, most self-centered idiot in the world.
Buck, in fact, had zero idea who he was. Buck isn’t a stalker. Buck— He wasn’t trying to give Eddie a bad time, but he blew up on him anyway. As always, Eddie imagined the worst-case scenario, even when it wasn’t warranted.
He’s embarrassed and his mouth forms an apology, but then—
“Cool!” exclaims Buck. “I never watch firefighter shows because they are always so inaccurate to the real thing, it’s kind of disappointing, but if Bobby’s around and I can help somehow, I’ll happily do it. Uh,” he pauses, clutching his stomach. “As long as I can get a snack, perhaps? I’m starving.”
“Eddie can lead you to the refreshments table,” proposes Taylor. “Right?”
He guesses he owes at least that to Buck, so he quickly nods.
They fall into step quickly as Eddie leads him through the studio, passing crew and saying quick hellos to them — and despite Buck probably knowing none of these people, he’s just as enthusiastic about his waves.
They arrive at the snacks table and Buck reaches for a donut, licking the glaze off of it so obscenely that Eddie has to look away.
“Do you know if Bobby’s around?” he wonders. Like they’re friends. Like the tension from earlier isn’t an elephant stomping around the room.
“Hm? I don’t know. I just got here,” answers Eddie. “He usually hangs out with Hen and Karen when he isn’t needed.”
“Who are Hen and Karen?”
“Hen’s my publicist and Karen — her wife —, is my agent. Or, well, me and my son’s,” he adds. “Their son Denny is an actor on the show, so they always come to set to watch over him. They’re really great moms.”
Buck gulps down a large bit of his donut. “Your son’s the one who plays Gavin?”
“Yeah. Taylor specifically sought us out because she knew we were a real father and son duo on every telenovela we used to work for,” explains Eddie. For some reason, it’s effortless to share with Buck — now that he doesn't think he’s a stalker, he seems like an easygoing guy. Easygoing enough to make Taylor smile, of all people. “Thought we’d be the perfect fit for what she had in mind for Hotshots.”
Buck coughs. Once he’s recovered, he stares at Eddie. “You worked on telenovelas?”
And, look, he gets this a lot.
“You got a problem with that?” challenges Eddie. Even though he should be apologizing to Buck, he can’t help but be irritated at another person trying to bring him down for something he’s actually proud of.
“No, it’s just— That makes so much sense!” says Buck. “When I first saw you, I thought I recognized you from somewhere. I thought maybe we’d run into each other on another multi-station call. But no. I know exactly where I’ve seen you before.”
“And that is?”
“Los salvavidas guapos,” Buck grins and, hm, his pronunciation isn’t half bad. “The hot lifeguard show. It used to play on TV all the time when I was bartending in Peru. My friend Emilio was thirsting over your character.”
Eddie ignores the last part. “You bartended in Peru?”
Buck laughs. “I went all over the Americas in search of myself in my twenties.”
“And did you? Find yourself?”
Buck doesn’t even hesitate, preening. “The moment I joined the one-eighteen.”
Eddie notices the spark in his eyes and recognizes it for what it is. Pride. Belonging. Sense of camaraderie. All the things that Eddie himself had struggled finding, up until he met Hen and Karen, joined Hotshots, and turned from the walking dead into something resembling a human being.
And somehow, he’s still jealous of Buck in some way. He has an ease about himself that Eddie will never achieve.
“I’m sorry for earlier, by the way,” he finally manages, sinking into himself. “I didn’t mean to blow up on you like that. It’s just—”
“You thought I was stalking you,” Buck finishes for him. Eddie nods. “Do you get that a lot? I’m sorry, uh— I didn’t know you were an actor. Honestly, those uniforms look like exact replicas of the real thing.”
“Taylor wanted—”
“Authenticity,” he goes again. “Yeah, she has a thing for that.”
“But to answer your question,” carries on Eddie. “I don't get stalkers often, but some people are strange. And I get paranoid sometimes. Not about myself — I just want to make sure my kid is safe.”
Buck nods. “Yeah. I get that. I have a soft spot for kids myself.”
“You have any of your own?”
“No, but I wish I did,” says Buck, smiling sadly. “I really want to be a dad someday.”
And, God, if he keeps up the puppy eyes, Eddie will give him a child himself.
He shrugs the unwarranted thought off, though, as in that moment Captain Nash makes his way over, dressed in his uniform as usual, and it takes Buck less than a heartbeat to brighten up. Eddie watches as Bobby wraps Buck into a tight hug, whispering something into the crook of his neck.
“Morning, Eddie,” Bobby tells him when they separate. “You look a bit rough. Suppose you haven’t hit the dressing room yet?”
And shit. He completely forgot he’s meant to be working.
“Thanks for the compliment,” he teases, reaching over for an energy bar. “But yeah, I better get going before May comes looking for me with that intimidating makeup brush of hers. Don’t want history to repeat.”
“Pray you never catch her in a bad mood,” warns Bobby. “She can get vicious.”
And after some more small talk, Eddie heads over to May.
Buck’s morals are honestly questionable, but this Eddie Diaz guy yelling at him first thing in the morning made something hot stir deep in his gut. And you can’t blame him. Eddie is, for a lack of better explanation, a literal hotshot. He knew it back at that sandwich place, and the more time he spends in his presence, he can’t ignore the sheer desire making his skin prickle.
He’s long past casual hook-ups. Hell, Eddie doesn’t even seem to be a guy interested in those, not with that kid that he’s evidently dedicating his entire life to. But Buck is only a man and so what if he secretly wants to bend him over the nearest secluded surface?
He focuses on catching up with Bobby over coffee and more snacks while Eddie is off getting even prettier, if possible.
But somehow, Eddie still slips into their conversation.
“You feeling okay about Eddie portraying your real experiences on live TV?” asks Bobby.
Buck swallows a hefty gulp of his coffee before answering.
“Like you said — it’s television. It’s not supposed to be realistic. But I guess it kind of stings that in this parallel universe Ryan gets to save the kid, know that he’s safe and sound, while I— I never got that satisfaction.”
Bobby hums. “If it makes you feel better, Eddie and his son are drawing from their own experiences, too.”
Buck arches a brow in question.
“They were on the pier during the tsunami,” carries on Bobby. “Barely made it out alive.”
And no, it doesn’t make him feel better. Worse, actually. Because Buck himself couldn’t relive the disaster, not even if he earned a generous paycheck for it. He can’t imagine what it’s like for Eddie and his son, having to dig into it on behalf of their characters.
But he guesses it’s easier, that Eddie didn’t experience the first-hand trauma that was losing Christopher and never discovering whether the boy was saved, or taken by the Atlantic waves.
He guesses that’s what he’s here for, to tell Eddie how deeply it wrecked him.
four years ago.
It all happens so quickly.
One moment, Buck is hanging off a railing of the swiftly collapsing ferris wheel, and the next — the second wave slams into the structure and he, similar to Devon, falls into the water to his death.
Or that’s what he thinks so, for several minutes of trying to fight the wave to breach the surface. Miraculously — or maybe thanks to the swimming training he did for SEALs —, he makes it out, barely surviving a strike in the head by the debris floating by.
Through the saltwater stinging his eyes, Buck searches for something to hold onto. He sees an electricity wire above his head, thankfully having lost its function, and grabs onto it to catch his breath.
He doesn’t bother reaching for his radio or phone — both lost causes by this point, and tries to think of how to save his own ass without anyone’s help.
But then he hears that scream, and his life stops mattering.
“Da-ad! Dad! Where did you go?!”
Buck snaps his head around until he sees him — a boy no older than ten, twenty feet down in the current, his arms wrapped around the top of a lamppost as he holds on for dear life. A little boy, all alone in the midst of the waves.
“Hey!” Buck finds his voice to scream over the thudding and booming. “You— Stay right there, don’t let go! I’m coming to you!”
He dives and swims like a maniac, every once in a while breaking the surface to check if the boy is still there, and he notices his grip loosening the longer it takes for Buck to fight the wave and get to him. He has seconds before he does.
“I’m slipping!” the boy announces, with Buck merely three feet away. “I can’t—”
And then he’s under the water and, for one terrifying second, Buck can’t see him. He follows after the kid into what is likely his death — but if the boy doesn’t make it out alive, neither does Buck want to. Evading more debris, he locates him kicking through the water and grabs onto his leg, dragging him forward until he has the boy in his tight, unrelenting grasp.
Buck can’t honestly tell how they make it to the 136 fire engine. He feels drunk on adrenaline, hardly taking in the movements of his limbs, the stretch of his muscles. But he throws the kid onto the top of the truck, his lungs heaving as he coughs out the water he’s swallowed.
And then the kid starts crying.
“I want my dad. Where is my dad?”
Buck scans his surroundings. He doesn’t see a single soul, alive or floating.
“I don’t know yet. But we’re gonna find him,” he swears to it, brushing the wet locks off the kid’s forehead. “What’s your name?”
“Chris—Christopher,” he manages.
“That’s a nice name. Like the Saint!” Buck tries to joke, but the boy’s face only falls further. “I’ll look after you until we find your dad, okay, Christopher? I’m a firefighter, so you’re safe with me.”
His eyes widen slightly. “Is this your truck, then?”
Buck chuckles. “N-no. It belongs to my friends at a different station. But don’t you worry, my team will come find us in no time. They’re helping other people on the pier.”
Buck tries not to think about what happened to them, if he was swept away. He trusts that they made it safely back to the boats before anyone else got hurt. He has to believe it to retain some sanity.
“My dad and I were on the pier when the tsunami struck,” says Christopher. “We managed to get away, but then the second wave hit and— And he just disappeared under the debris. I called for him, but he didn’t call back.”
Well, shit. The kid probably just got orphaned, and he’s supposed to keep him calm until help arrives. How does he do that?
Just as he’s about to propose a game, a human screech sounds from the ongoing current.
And Buck, of course, jumps after them.
The day of shooting passes quickly for Eddie. They’re wrapping up the scenes before the tsunami strikes, which mostly consists of Eddie goofing around with Brad and Lena when he’s supposed to be taking his job seriously. The crew is used to it, though, so they give them no trouble and join in their antics occasionally.
By the time he makes it to lunch — or more accurately dinner, since it’s 7 o'clock —, he’s almost forgotten Buck’s around. He’s been a quiet presence, lounging in Taylor’s chair while Bobby hovers around to ensure their stunts go smoothly.
“So, what d’you think?” he asks Buck, placing his plate down opposite him at the long table in the dining area. He figures he could sit near him, as Hen and Karen have taken Denny and Chris to Taco Bell for a change.
Buck has already wolfed down half of his dinner. He looks up, halting his chewing. “‘Bout what?”
“The show. Did it disappoint you like all firefighter shows do?” Eddie recalls.
Buck grins. “It could use some more of the real thing, but with Bobby around keeping you on your toes, I’m not worried. And I trust Taylor, somewhat. She can be tough, but she knows what she’s doing.”
It’s then it clicks in Eddie’s head — Buck is the firefighter who dated her, the one Christopher talked about.
“So, I suppose your breakup was amicable?”
It’s a faint thing but Eddie notices Buck’s eyebrow furrow anyway. He’s oddly tuned into every movement of his body.
“I wouldn’t say amicable, but it didn’t end badly. She’s dating my teammate now, and I’m happy for them. They’re a match that makes sense, unlike me and her.” He shudders at that. “I guess we’re a little bit of friends now. Or, I’d like to be.”
“I’ve known Taylor for three years and I didn’t even know she was dating anyone,” admits Eddie. “I don’t think she likes me very much,” he adds, plunging his fork into a sausage defeatedly.
“All you gotta do is talk to her about Buffy and you’ll become best friends,” laughs Buck, his entire face crinkling with it. A pretty sight, if you ask Eddie. “She’s nice, I promise. You just need to let her in to see how nice she can be.”
“She’s good with my son, so I believe you,” says Eddie.
Buck scans the table. “Where is your son? I don’t believe I’ve met him yet.”
“He’s—”
It’s at that moment Taylor sinks into the seat beside Buck.
“What are we talking about?” she asks him, knocking their elbows together.
“Just about how mean and awful you are,” jokes Buck. Taylor narrows her eyes, clearly not having it. “Kidding. But,” he inhales sharply. “It seems you’ve been keeping Eddie at an arm’s length. How about we break the ice between you?”
“What are you suggesting?” Taylor seems genuinely curious.
“I’m thinking, we get absolutely shitfaced after you’ve wrapped up tonight,” says Buck.
Taylor huffs. “That’s one way to break the ice, I guess.” She turns to Eddie, meeting his gaze in a challenge. “What do you think? Can you leave Chris at Denny’s for one night of fun and leisure? Or do you want to laze at home with the new Love Island episode on your screen?”
And— Hey! How does Taylor even know he watches it?!
“I can arrange it,” he manages. “It’d be good to let loose for once.”
“It’s a date then,” announces Taylor, unpocketing her phone. “I’ll invite Lucy.”
They go to a karaoke bar, the same one Maddie and Chimney once dragged Buck along to. The same one where he ended up belting out My Heart Will Go On to a space full of poor drunken strangers, after downing one too many tequila sunrises.
Beside him, Eddie is stiff. And Buck may not know the guy all that well, but if he’s anything, he’s a people pleaser. His mission tonight? Get Eddie to loosen up — whether it’s his tongue or his hips.
Eddie is just so— So fascinating. In the downtime on set, he’d read through a dozen interviews he’s done for Hotshots, and even some from earlier in his career. Eddie, for the lack of a better word, yaps about the show and his character like nobody’s business. But about himself, or his son for that matter? He hardly mentions a thing.
Eddie is a mystery Buck would like to unravel.
So, he tries.
“What’s your go-to thing to order at a bar?” he wonders as they wait for the bartender to get to them. Lucy and Taylor are catching up at their booth, while he and Eddie have been assigned to get them drinks.
“Uh, an IPA, probably,” Eddie musters.
“Oh, come on, let’s be a bit more adventurous,” suggests Buck. “They do Ramos Gin Fizz here. You wanna take a shot at it?”
“I’m not a cocktail guy,” says Eddie.
“As an ex-bartender, that deeply offends me,” Buck feigns offense. “But if you’re gonna have an IPA, you better get a Susan.”
So, Eddie does, a pretty smirk on his face as he opens their tab for the night. Not that every single thing about Eddie isn’t pretty, but he enjoys finding new ones to fawn over as the day goes. Eddie isn’t simply attractive on the outside, there’s a spark to his laugh, to the way his voice lowers to a hum, to the care and passion when he talks about something great his kid has done recently, to the way he holds himself up, like quite nothing can knock him down.
The fascination quickly forms into an adoration. And hell, Buck hardly knows the guy. He shouldn’t feel so deeply about him already.
“—and Chris just said, no biggie, and devoured that line. God, he’s so talented.”
“We get it, Eddie, your kid is the best,” teases Taylor, her arm hooked around Lucy’s shoulder as she downs a Hennessy shot.
“He does sound great,” Buck chips in. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to meet him today.”
“He probably would’ve irritated you to a fault with some video game talk I don’t understand,” says Eddie.
Buck scoffs. “I, for one, am very much into video games! I’d probably indulge him.”
“Next time you’re on set, you can,” answers Eddie, smiling fondly at him. Buck reels with it.
“Speaking of work,” starts Taylor, earning a groan out of her girlfriend. She gives Lucy a just let me look, and she shrugs. “Did you two get to talking about the tsunami? It was such a big deal for Buck in action, I just want to make sure we portray Ryan’s emotions right.”
Buck notices as Eddie deflates at the mention. His curiosity doesn’t get the best of him for once, though. He keeps his mouth shut and his attention — focused on Taylor.
“All you gotta do is prioritize Gavin, I think. But at the same time, don’t forget you’re a firefighter who’s supposed to save as many lives as he can,” is Buck’s suggestion. “Ryan may have a responsibility to his son, but he also has a responsibility to the people of Los Angeles.”
“And it’s that second responsibility that makes him lose Gavin,” chimes in Taylor. She’s grinning like a fool. “God, I just love this plot. Ryan, being the hero, being his kid’s hero, just to end up losing the one person that matters most. I bet the viewers are going to eat this up when we do the cliffhanger. Of course, they don’t know that Gavin will be safe and sound by the end of episode three.”
Eddie’s voice is shaky when he speaks. “He still loses him, though.”
“But he finds him in the end,” reminds Buck. “Isn’t that all that matters?”
Eddie’s staring a hole into his IPA, and Buck? Buck tries to not let his grief swallow him whole.
Because he lost Christopher, and he never managed to find him.
four years ago.
“I spy with my little eye something that… Moves people around.”
“Um… Oh! A scooter!”
“Ah, yeah. Nice one.”
He gives Christopher a high-five, making the boy burst out into giggles. God, he really is such a sweet kid, despite the tragedy that is looming over them. Despite the fact that, no matter how many people Buck managed to get to the fire truck, none of them happened to be his dad.
“How do you do that?” he ends up asking him.
“Do what?”
“Just— Smile and laugh, after the day you’ve had.”
Christopher thinks about it for a second, sticking out his tongue to lick his lips.
“Complaining doesn’t help,” the boy says. “I complained once and it didn’t change a thing. So, I just kept on going. Or, in today’s case, kept on swimming. Like Dory in Finding Nemo.”
Buck’s never seen the movie, but he trusts the kid that it makes sense.
“I complain a lot,” he admits. “But you’re right — it doesn’t change a thing. Maybe I should take your advice and just stop complaining.”
“That one time I complained, though, my dad got me ice cream. So, if you want ice cream, you should keep complaining until someone gets you some,” states Christopher, super serious about it. Buck manages to laugh for the first time that day.
He’s about to quip back when he hears the sharp inhales of the other people on top of the fire truck. And then he sees them — the bodies about to float by them, stiff and lifeless. Like wax figures.
And Buck feels a responsibility to make Christopher’s day as painless as possible, so he grabs the boy’s attention by tilting his chin and says, wildly, “I— I spy with my little eye, something that is… High!”
Christopher looks up, gazing at the surrounding flooded buildings.
“A street sign?”
“No, higher than that!” he presses, keeping an eye out for the floating bodies in case any of them stir, showing any signs of life.
They don’t.
And they pass by, without Christopher noticing them, thank God. But it doesn’t mean the worst is over. Not in the slightest.
For when the water retreats back into the ocean, as it tends to after a tsunami, all Buck can do is his job to save the people crashing past the truck, sensing the loss of Christopher beside him like the loss of a limb when he realizes the aftershock made him fall in.
And he screams for him, he searches for him, but he never ends up finding him.
Eddie used to think living was about what you can do for the world, for the people around you — how you can make their lives easier. He found that playing a character tugs on people’s heartstrings, that they associate the fiction with themselves, and find comfort in it. That he, by just playing the part, makes others feel seen.
And for so long, it was enough to just live off of that joy. But then he met Buck.
And Buck is— He’s human, unapologetically so. He sparks joy, but he also has a haze around him that somehow makes him solid and real. His daily life consists of what Eddie does on the screen as an act, and he’s so damn good at the real thing. He’s a hero. A kind of guy Eddie could never be.
And Eddie wants to know him. Creep into his skull, become a nuisance to his every cell. Be an itch that he can’t ignore, but welcomes for the satisfying scratch. He wants to be with him, inside him, nearly a parasite just to learn the way he works, the way he breathes with such ease.
But turns out, he doesn’t. Not in the slightest. It’s the same kind of act Eddie puts up in front of a camera, this tough guy who can handle everything, when he hardly has a sense of what it means to be a man at all.
Eddie learns the truth one Monday morning, and he can never unlearn it.
It goes like this — Captain Nash thinks it’s time for Eddie and Christopher to meet his team, even if he no longer is their captain. He’s been meaning to take them out on a day full of calls for Eddie to grasp the full experience of what it’s like to be a firefighter, and for Christopher to just have some fun in oversized gear.
He doesn’t expect Buck to trail down the stairs of the station and freeze.
He doesn’t expect Buck’s breath to hitch in his throat.
He doesn’t expect to witness Buck crumble.
But he spots Christopher, with Eddie’s hand guiding him forward into the station, and all of who Eddie thought Buck was from the few times he’s been around him vanishes into thin air. He sees him. He sees the persona he hides behind, the unbothered, chill guy who isn’t unbothered or chill at all.
And when Christopher spots him, he wrestles out of Eddie’s grasp to run towards Buck to the best of his ability, considering his crutches.
Chris grasps Buck’s torso, tight and steady, and tears well up in the firefighter’s eyes.
And Eddie— He’s so confused.
“C—Christopher,” manages Buck, his voice strangled and stiff as he lets Eddie’s son embrace him. “I can’t— I can’t believe it’s you. You’ve grown so much!”
Christopher lets go of him, just to look up into his eyes.
“And you’ve grown older. I like the curls, though.”
Buck manages a laugh. “Thanks. Thought I should embrace them.”
They share a laugh and Eddie— He just can’t take the not knowing any longer.
“How do you know my son?” he nearly barks at Buck, though he means to say it tenderly.
Buck meets his eyes, uncertain and fearful, and what is Eddie supposed to do about that?
It’s Christopher who lets him in on the truth.
“This is the guy, Dad!” he exclaims loudly. “From the tsunami. The firefighter who saved me!”
Eddie thinks his heart literally sinks in his chest. It’s no longer a properly functioning organ, just a resemblance of something that once worked, regardless of how insufficiently. Because Buck is there, in front of him, this guy he’s been going crazy over, and he— He’s that guy. The guy responsible for the fact that his son is still breathing, still living, still happy somehow, despite the trauma he’s endured.
And Eddie can’t help but let out a sob as he crashes into Buck, wrapping him in the tightest, most vulnerable embrace, despite the years that have passed, despite the fact that they have never touched, never dared to.
He embraces Buck, his warmth, his comfort, and sinks into it.
And he’s probably out of his mind when he leans back, taking in the shocked expression on Buck's face, and asks him the most stupid question one could in this situation.
“Do you want to grab dinner tonight?”