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In the middle of a 24-hour shift starting on Thursday and dipping into their Friday, Eddie invites him to the weekly first responders trivia night.
“C’mon,” Eddie’s right beside Buck at the kitchen counter, drinking from his mug of coffee and looking at him eagerly, “Dude, you’re a trivia wizard, we need you. You haven’t gone in a month and the ‘Eddie Mercury’s’ are losing steam.”
The Eddie Mercury’s being Buck, Eddie, and—Ugh, Buck cringes as he thinks of his ex-boyfriend—Tommy’s trivia team, dubbed after the mustache that Eddie started inexplicably donning in July. Eddie was the leader by default, despite not being all that great at the game, because he’s the only man that Buck knows who’s able to get off a 24, 48, or God forbid a 72 hour shift, and still have enough of a social battery to attend every single week. Other members come and go in a “Suicide Squad”-esq manner.
Buck frowns, looking away as to not get tempted by the man’s ridiculously well groomed mustache, “I dunno. It’s just, it’s gonna be awkward having to play with Tommy and—“
“Tommy?” Eddie scoffs, “Buck, Tommy is long gone. Used my presidential powers to kick the guy out. He can’t just dump my best friend and expect to still be a part of the ‘Eddie Mercury’s’. Nah, Bradford is the one joining us on the frontlines this evening. If you end up coming.”
He scrolls through his catalogue of names, coming up blank, “Bradford? Who’s Bradford?”
“Tim Bradford, he’s LAPD, works at the Mid-Wilshire station and comes to the first responder pick-up basketball games. He’s a nice guy. I think he was there when you sprained my ankle, actually.” Eddie brings it up nonchalantly, but they both know that he’s guiltripping. And that it’s working.
“… Will you pay for the wings platter?”
“You know it.”
Buck sighs loudly in relent, “Fine. I’ll go, since I’m clearly the ‘Eddie Mercury’s’’ only chance of survival.”
Eddie lets out a whoop, clapping Buck on the back and moving away from the kitchen counter to dip his nose into Chimney’s business instead.
He watches him leave, heart doing a confusing loop in his chest.
—
The last 12 hours of the shift pass without a hitch, and by the end of it, Chimney has snapped under the pressure of Eddie’s interrogation and confessed to his and Maddie’s pregnancy.
Buck follows Eddie’s truck to the bar, parking right beside him and hopping out of the driver's seat to match the pace of their footsteps together as they go inside.
“So, how good even is Tim?” Buck asks.
Eddie grins, “Almost as good as you are—Seriously, the man is a beast. Takes’ it extra seriously too. With the two of you playing today, I think we’ll be able to get ourselves back at number one on the scoreboard.”
Alongside the weekly trivia nights, the first responder bar has a ranking of every team that plays each week. The one that has the longest win streak by the new year ends up getting to take a trophy home. Eddie discovered it just this year, and it’s brought out his competitive streak to an especially higher degree.
“Huh,” Buck nods, a strange pit already forming in his stomach. It’s nonsensical, obviously, because Buck is Eddie’s best friend, and he knows that he doesn’t have to worry about this Tim guy that Eddie’s never even brought up before, but—
“Diaz!” A man barks out from across the bar, voice strong enough that one would think they were in the middle of a war zone, “Over here.”
The smile already planted on Eddie’s face gets even brighter, and he starts walking faster, raising his arm’s to give Tim a solid “bro hug”.
“Bradford, my man . So glad you could make it today.”
“Are you kidding?” Tim laughs, “I’d rather die than let Mehta and Maynard’s nightmare of a team take our rightful title.”
Eddie rolls his eyes, “You’re just pissy that they crushed you at poker last week.”
“Hey, can you blame me? That cut of wagyu looked like it cost about—“
“You went to the poker game?” Buck blurts out, interrupting the two’s back and forth. “With Eddie?”
“Yeah man, Tim’s a killer at poker. Just got dealt a bad hand last time,” Eddie explains, “Happens to the best of us.”
The pit is growing even larger, and Buck laughs, aiming for a sound of pleasant surprise and instead sounding deranged to his own ears. So what if Eddie’s invited Tim to the ultra top secret poker games presumably multiple times, even though he only invited Buck as a once off deal because of his temporary lightning math powers, who even cares? Not Buck! Because Buck is normal. He is.
“Wow,” He forces out, “Poker, trivia, and basketball? You’re a triple-threat.”
“Uh, quadruple threat. Let’s not forget that Eddie still owes me from when he bet completely wrong on this year's season for the Dodgers.” Tim corrects, and Buck kind of wants him to die, “But that’s all just logistics. You are?”
“Oh, shit, yeah, my bad, I totally forgot to introduce you guys,” Eddie says, “Buck, this is Tim, Tim, this is Buck. I’ve mentioned him to you before, yeah?”
Tim makes a face, like he’s trying to hold back a laugh, “Yeah. You definitely have. Nice to finally put a face to the name, Buckley.”
Buck squints, trying to figure out what the hell that reaction was supposed to mean. Did Tim find Buck underwhelming? Was he doubting that Buck could live up to whatever standard Eddie had set for him? Or, even worse, had Eddie been complaining to Tim about how Buck ruined his relationship with Tommy so badly that he’d dumped him and then Eddie had sadly been forced to kick him out of the team? He certainly wouldn’t be able to blame him, if Eddie had, because Tommy had been his friend before he became Buck’s boyfriend. And what gave Buck the audacity to come between that?
He clears his throat, “Uh, yeah. Ditto. Great to have you on the ‘Mercury’s’.”
“Come on, let’s head to the bar so I can order two of those delicious wing platters.” Eddie puts his hands on Buck and—He resists the urge to frown—Tim’s back, moving them along, “We’ll need some brain food to get our vengeance on the ‘M&M’s’.”
—
They’re in the second round of trivia, having just won the first round leagues ahead of the other teams, and Buck is hating Tim slightly less.
As it turns out, Eddie was right when he said that Tim was a beast, because he’s yelling out answers like they’re orders on the field, and Buck has the thought run across his mind that he and Athena would have one of the most interesting dynamics of all time. When Tim isn’t answering, Buck’s leaping to slam his hand down on the button and ensure the victory of the “Eddie Mercury’s”. So far, Eddie’s answered just about one question, but he seems content to sit back and watch as Buck and Tim charge ahead to victory.
“Alright, ‘Eddie Mercury’s’, what category do you want to switch us over to?” The game host asks.
“We’ll switch to …” Buck looks over at Eddie for confirmation, who simply nods his head and makes a motion to go on, “We’ll switch to animals.”
“Alright!” The host switches her cards piles around, drawing one off the top of the reshuffled deck, “What is a female donkey called?”
The different teams break off to discuss, but Buck jumps up, “Oh! Oh —“ He presses the button, “A Jenny!”
She smiles, bringing an eraser up to the scoreboard, “That’s 100 points to the ‘Eddie Mercury’s’, who have now surpassed the ‘M&M’s’. Next question, what type of animal is a fer-de-lance?”
“A fer-de- what now ?” Tim questions, “I’ve got no clue.”
“Me neither,” Eddie says, looking at Buck, “You’ve got an idea?”
“It sounds familiar but I don’t—“
Another button buzzes, and they turn to find Captain Metha answering confidently, “A snake.”
“That’s 100 points to the ‘M&M’s’, who are now re-tied with the ‘Eddie Mercury’s’!” The host announces, “That’s the end of the second round! We’ll reconvene in fifteen minutes for the third and final round of the night.”
Tim curses under his breath, and Eddie pats him on the back, leaning in closer to the two of them, “This isn’t the end of the world, okay? We’ll beat ‘em in the next round.”
“How the hell does Captain Metha even know that anyway?” Buck huffs, “Not even I knew what that answer was.”
“Is it too early to start accusing them of rigging? Because, I feel like that could be a good route of—“ Eddie’s phone pings, and he cuts himself off, reaching into his pockets, “Shit.”
“Huh?” He asks, “What is it?”
“May says she just had something come up with one of her final projects and she needs to get back to her place ASAP to work on it so she can’t stay at the house watching Chris until I get back anymore.”
“Do you want me to go watch him?” Buck offers, “It really wouldn’t be a problem.”
“And end up losing the last round?” Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Yeah right—I’m gonna go call the Wilson’s and see if they’d let him sleep over. You two talk about strategy while I’m gone.” He makes a peace sign, pointing at them with it, before leaving.
And then they’re alone, Buck sitting awkwardly next to Tim as the other scrolls on his phone, drinking idly.
He steels himself, turning towards him, “So you and Eddie are good friends?”
“Yeah.” Tim shrugs, “I’d say so. Diaz is a nice guy, smarter than most firefighters,” Buck can’t help but feel a bit offended by that throw away comment, “And we both served in Afghanistan, so I know he’s got my back.”
The pit in Buck’s stomach is back in full force, but he nods in understanding, “I get what you mean, Eddie’s great. Back on his first day on the job, he realized that a live grenade was embedded in a guy's leg. He led the extraction while I was there to help him out.”
“Nice. That’s pretty cool.” Tim says it with an air of nonchalance, like he could care less about Eddie’s feats, and Buck’s annoyance only grows. What does Eddie even see in this guy?—As a friend. Because that’s all they are, friends.
“So you go to the pick-up basketball games?” Buck continues, “Those get pretty intense, right?”
“They’re alright.”
Tim’s answers are normal, they hardly even know each other, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to engage in small talk anyways, but they keep grating at Buck’s skin. When they were playing the game, all three of them, it was fine, but just the two of them? The pit in Buck’s stomach is growing more and more and more, and it makes him sick that Eddie is so close to him. That he and Tim can go out and do all these different things together without Buck having a clue.
This feeling, it isn’t new. It reminds him of how he’d felt back in April, when Tommy first got added into the picture. How Eddie was spending so much time with him, inviting him to all these different plans that Buck hadn’t even had a clue of. Back then, Buck had realized that it was just that he’d had feelings for Tommy. He wasn’t jealous of Tommy for hanging out with Eddie, he was jealous of Eddie for hanging out with Tommy.
If that was the case back then, could it be that Buck was just doing the same thing now?
Looking at Tim, he isn’t ugly by any means. He’s actually quite good-looking, the sides of his hair neatly shaved and reminiscent of his army years, faint wrinkling on his skin that only serves to make him look mature rather than old, and a light stubble that Buck imagines would be nice to feel rub against his own face.
Buck flushes, anxiously picking at his nails. So that was it, right? He has a crush on one of Eddie’s friends. Again. Buck falls fast, but that was a record even for him.
In a way, this was kind of Eddie’s fault. Because he always manages to find guys that are exactly Buck’s type. Or what Buck assumes to be his type, because these are the only guys so far that he’s ever had any sort of romantic inclination towards.
Tim clears his throat, standing up and putting his phone in his pocket, “Hey, you want to go and grab some more drinks with me? Gotta get more fuel for the next round.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Buck nods, following Tim, “So, how long have you been in the LAPD?”
“About eighteen years. Signed up for the academy right after I got discharged. How about you for the LAFD?” He opens up his wallet, pulling out some cash to hand off to the bartender.
Buck leans against the bar, putting one elbow on top of it to balance himself out as they wait for the drinks, “Eight years, so way less then you have. I travelled around for a while, but the job just ended up finding me. Kinda like fate, y’know?”
“I’m not much of a ‘fate’ guy, to be honest with you, but I get it. The call to serve is the call to serve, no matter how it comes to you.” Tim smirks, “Just so happens that I got it earlier. But don’t let my years of expertise intimidate you, Buckley.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Buck matches Tim’s smirk with one of his own, “Besides, I’ve worked with guys with lotsa experience before. Some with even more than you’ve got.”
“Yeah?”
He hums, and his eyes flit down to Tim’s lips and he watches as the other lets out a breath and before he can stop himself Buck is leaning in and pressing their lips together. He’s only just about an inch or so shorter than him, so it’s easy for Buck to grab his cheeks and tilt him up slightly. His lips are soft and, just as Buck had suspected, the stubble feels great rubbed against his skin, and it makes him a bit insane to think that he’d been missing out on being with guys all this time. He closes his eyes, lets himself focus on the kiss, and a faint picture starts to make itself clear in the otherwise calm darkness.
It’s of someone a slight bit shorter, a stubble surrounding their lips, long eyelashes brushing against Buck’s, hair neatly cut and styled. Army background, plays pick-up basketball, goes to poker nights, and gets way too caught up in the competition of first responder trivia. But, despite the description matching almost exactly, it isn’t Tim.
It’s Eddie.
Oh, fuck .
Buck launches himself back, accidentally slamming his hip into one of the barstools in the process. He looks at Tim, who looks just about as shell-shocked as he’s feeling right now, and they both start to speak.
“Listen, Buckley—“
“I’m so sorry—“
Both of them cut themselves off, but before Tim can pick up from where he left, Buck blurts out: “I’ve got to go! Tell Eddie I’m sorry,” slamming an unidentifiable amount of cash in front of Tim on the bar counter and high-tailing it out of there.
—
“Okay, so, the Wilson’s couldn’t do it, but I’ve been convinced to let Chris stay at home by himself because he’s fourteen and claims he’s old enough. Do you guys think I did the right—“ Eddie pauses mid-sentence, frowning, “Hey, where’s Buck?”
—
When Buck wakes up the next morning, he’s met with the gifts of an all-encompassing headache, numerous bottles of beer scattered around on the table before him, and a loud knocking on his door.
He groans, slowly getting up from his rickety dining table chair and resting a hand against the table to prevent himself from tipping over. Buck has to reteach himself walking, going one step at a time to the front door.
Trying to think of who it could be on the other side, he comes up empty. Eddie, Bobby, and Maddie all have keys, and anybody else would have called him in advance to remind him of any plans. He finally reaches his door, and he opens up his peephole to see …
Tim Bradford, holding a bag with the logo of Buck’s favorite cafe in one hand and a tiny CVS bag in the other.
Frankly, Buck had woken up hoping the man and the events of the previous night were just a figment of his imagination.
He winces, but opens the door anyway, moving to the side to let Tim through, “Uh, g’morning.”
“Morning, Buckley.” Tim gives him a nod of acknowledgement, before directing his eyes to the mess of Buck’s dining table, “Had a long night after you ditched the ‘Eddie Mercury’s’?”
And, yeah, he probably deserves that, “Tim, I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me yesterday. I shouldn’t have kissed you, and I definitely shouldn't have ran out after.”
“It’s alright.” He shrugs, setting the bags down on the kitchen island, “You’re not a half bad kisser, and I ended up having my own realizations after.”
Buck freezes, “Oh, look man, I don’t mean to be rude but—“
Tim lifts a hand, “Relax. I’m straight, I promise you that. You made me realize I’ve been fucking myself over.”
“Elaborate?”
“There’s this girl, and she is—I mean, she’s smart, funny, and a real badass on the job,” He says it fondly, a small smile making its way onto his face, “And we were dating. But I got scared, freaked myself out, and thought I didn’t deserve it. That kiss last night … It helped me get my head out of my ass, that I could’ve been with her instead, loving her and showing her that I care, and I wasn’t. So I also ended up bailing. Ran straight to her apartment and told her how I felt.”
“Oh, wow,” Buck should probably congratulate him, but, “Eddie’s gonna be so pissed at us.”
“Yeah, Diaz was not pleased when I told him I had to leave. Made me swear away any winnings I receive the next three poker nights.” Tim chuckles, “But you know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“I made up the most bullshit excuse for you on the planet, told him that you said you realized you left your stove on or whatever, and he bought it. Wasn’t pissy about it or anything, just expressed legitimate concern. And this morning? He told me to check up on you, since he couldn’t because his kid has surfing lessons and he had to start driving early to get there on time. Even told me your favorite coffee shop and the exact kind of painkiller you’re allergic to so I wouldn’t accidentally buy it. He’s got it bad, Buck.” He raises an eyebrow, “And you do too, don’t you?”
Blood rushes to Buck’s cheeks, and he groans, bumping his head back against the wall, “Yeah. I do.”
“And you got confused and decided to kiss me instead?”
“I think I’ve done that a lot more than I realized,” he admits, “I’m pretty sure that was the basis of my whole relationship with my ex-boyfriend.”
Tim raises his other eyebrow to join the first, “And what are you gonna do about it?”
“Stay in my apartment and mope?”
“No, man, eat your pastries, take a painkiller, drink your coffee, and confess for God’s sake—before you start kissing even more veterans.”
—
Buck finds Eddie at Doheny State Beach, about an hour drive away from Los Angeles, but the only place that the other was able to find surfing lessons willing to accommodate Cerebral Palsy.
He walks up to him sunbathing on the beach, clearing his throat, “Hey, mind if I join?”
Eddie lowers his sunglasses just slightly, “Knock yourself out, bud.”
Buck nods, unrolling his beach towel and setting it beside Eddie’s own. He lays down on top of it, feeling a tad overdressed wearing his light button up when Eddie’s fully shirtless, St. Christopher medal resting on the groove of his chest.
He undoes the top three buttons, eyes darting up as he does so to watch Eddie, who seems to be following the movements of his fingers with interest through the tinted lens of his sunglasses.
“So, what brought you to join us? Christopher’s just about done with his surfing lessons.” Eddie asks.
And there are so many different ways that Buck could start this conversation, all significantly smarter and more effective, but instead he says: “I kissed Tim last night.”
Eddie’s jaw drops, and Buck rushes to correct himself, “And, uh, well, I realized something in that moment. And I kinda freaked out. Which is why I had to leave the ‘Eddie Mercury’s’ without their star player. Sorry.”
“I’d like to say that you aren’t forgiven, but you and I both know that’d be lying, so,” He looks at Buck curiously, “What exactly did you realize?”
“Uh, I guess it’s better if I start at the beginning?” Buck ends the statement as a question, and Eddie only motions for him to continue.
“When you and Tommy started hanging out together—“
“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie interrupts, “What does Tommy have to do with you kissing Tim?”
“Let me finish!”
He chuckles, lifting both of his hands in defense, “Okay, go ahead, man.”
Buck lets out a dramatic sigh, “As I was saying, when you and Tommy started hanging out together, I got, uh, ridiculously jealous? And it was kinda obvious. I mean, Maddie thought I was insane. But then Tommy kissed me that night and I thought … ‘Oh, so I was just jealous of Eddie the whole time, not Tommy’. And then we started dating and nothing ever felt right. Like, I maimed you—“
“It was a sprained ankle and an accident, Buck.”
“—over this guy, but I’m constantly annoyed whenever he’s around me? I couldn’t figure out why I felt like that when we were dating, but I just, I dunno, pretended it was normal? Did my best to push past it and not ruin my relationship. Which, look at how that turned out.” He laughs bitterly, “Then you introduced me to Tim last night, and I started feeling the exact same way I did whenever I saw you and Tommy together. So, y’know.”
“So you thought you had feelings for Tim like you did for Tommy.” Eddie finishes.
“How I thought I did for Tommy. But then I kissed him, and, I mean, it was nice, but when I closed my eyes all I could think of was …” Buck trails off, scanning Eddie’s face in an attempt to gauge his reaction.
He looks—and maybe Buck’s just being optimistic, or eager, or just straight up delusional—but he looks hopeful.
“… Was?”
Buck takes a deep breath.
“Was you—And I think it always has been you.”
There’s a pause, a moment of silence, where they’re just looking at each other. Eyes connected to one another as everything around them, the sounds of the ocean, the surfing lessons, the kids playing in the sand, all fade into the background.
Eddie reaches out his hand, cupping the entirety of Buck’s cheek, and he realizes that even though he’d always imagined leaning down for when they kiss, seeing as Eddie’s shorter, he’s smaller when they’re sitting like they are now. It’s new, and Buck loves that it’s new. Loves that even through all the years that they’ve known each other, that Buck’s felt this way without even realizing, there are still new things to find out. Tiny little features that he never would’ve noticed if they weren’t as up close as they are now.
He looks down at Eddie’s lips, then back to his eyes, a silent question, to which Eddie nods.
It’s hard to tell who leans in first, but one minute there’s a short distance between them and the next there isn’t any at all. They’re together, sharing the same breaths. And finally, it makes sense , what Buck’s been missing this whole time, what he’s been failing to see.
He wants this for the rest of his life. Wants to have the privilege of kissing Eddie like this every day, every hour, every minute, every second of their lives.
Slowly, they break apart, and Buck can’t help the full-body laugh that escapes him from the sheer joy, grinning in Eddie’s face.
Eddie raises an eyebrow, joking, “The kiss was that bad?”
“Shut up,” Buck rolls his eyes, “It was perfect and you know it.”
“I don’t know, man. I think we might need to do it again, just to test that theory.” Eddie leans back in, this time resting his hand on the curve of Buck’s back, starting to lower him down against the fluffiness of his towel. He’s in bliss, and he doesn’t register somebody walking towards them until the sun shining rays on the side of his face is suddenly covered by a shadow.
Buck cracks open an eye, refusing to part from Eddie, and comes face to face with a soaked Christopher.
“Hey, Buck,” He greets, Eddie freezing, “Hey, dad.”
Eddie backs up, smiling sheepishly, “Hey, mijo. Done with your lesson?”
“Yeah,” Christopher looks between the two of them, then asks, “Can we get ice cream?”
He doesn’t give them any time to answer, taking the initiative to go ahead and start walking over to the ice cream stand all the way on the other side of the beach. Eddie chuckles incredulously, lifting himself up from his beach towel and reaching a hand to help Buck do the same.
Buck takes it, bending down to yank his towel off the sand and roll it up in his arms, “So, I think that went well?”
“Better than the time he broke the salad bowl, that’s definitely for sure.” Eddie starts to follow Christopher, looking over his shoulder to make sure that Buck’s doing the same, “Boyfriend duty means that you cover half the cost, by the way. The ice cream here is insanely overpriced.”
A wave of fondness overtakes him, and Buck scurries to catch up, “Got it.”
He’d have to send Tim a gift basket later.