Chapter Text
Eddie
The morning Eddie Diaz arrived at the 118, he’d already triple-checked his reflection in his truck’s mirror, adjusted his perfectly regulation uniform, and reminded himself that he’d earned this. Six months in Los Angeles had started to feel like breathing again after three years of suffocation in Texas, but old habits died hard. Eddie still caught himself scanning faces for signs of recognition or suspicion, still kept his guard up even when his abuela assured him he had nothing to worry about.
“You’ve got this, kid,” he muttered to himself, echoing Shannon’s words from years ago. The memory of her brought its usual complicated mix of gratitude and guilt. She’d escaped Texas first, starting her own journey while he fought for Christopher in the courts. Sometimes he wondered if she’d found the peace he was still chasing.
Captain Nash’s welcome was warm but professional, exactly what Eddie needed. As they walked through the station, Eddie catalyzed each word and gesture, unconsciously monitoring for any hint that his carefully constructed life might be about to crack. But Nash just talked about protocols and schedules, about Eddie’s military background and his experience as a medic in the Army.
Then they reached the gym area, and Eddie’s attention snagged on a tall firefighter doing pull-ups. The guy dropped down, all bright smiles and golden skin, and Eddie’s gut twisted with recognition. He knew this type all too well–the hyper-masculine golden boys who seemed to have a sixth sense for people like him, who’d made his life hell in Texas with their sharp eyes and sharper judgment.
“Buck!” Nash called out. “Come meet our recruit.”
Buck jogged over, and Eddie felt his chest tighten as those blue eyes swept over him. The way Buck’s smile faltered, how his gaze lingered just a fraction too long–Eddie knew these signs by heart. His hands went cold as adrenaline flooded his system. Six months of peace in LA, and it had taken less than six minutes for someone to see through him.
“Edmundo Diaz,” he managed, forcing his voice to stay steady and low, the way he’d practiced countless times. “Eddie.”
“Evan Buckley. Everyone calls me Buck.” The handshake was firm, almost aggressive, and Buck’s eyes never left his face. “Welcome to the 118.”
Eddie’s mind raced as they continued the tour. He’d been so careful, had triple-checked everything this morning. But something must have given him away–his voice, his movements, some subtle tell he’d missed. Buck knew. The way he kept watching Eddie, that intense focus... Eddie had seen that look before, right before everything fell apart in Texas.
He’d have to transfer. Start over somewhere else. But Christopher was just settling into his new school, and his abuela had already rearranged her whole life to help with childcare. The thought of uprooting everything again made him sick, but if Buck figured it out and said something...
Eddie barely heard Captain Nash explaining the shift schedules. All he could focus on was Buck’s presence behind them, the weight of that gaze that seemed to strip away every defense he’d built.
Los Angeles was supposed to be his fresh start. A place where nobody knew about the court battles, about the priests his parents had sent to “save” him, about any of it. Now, less than an hour into his first day, it was all threatening to unravel.
What he didn’t notice, too caught up in his own spiral of anxiety, was the actual confusion on Buck’s face–the way Buck kept stealing glances not out of suspicion, but because something about the recruit might be hotter than him.
The alarm rang before Eddie could figure out how to handle the Buck situation. Maybe that was a blessing–adrenaline had always been good at drowning out everything else.
“Multi-vehicle collision on the 405,” Bobby announced as they loaded into the truck. “One car went through the barrier.”
Eddie found himself directly across from Buck, their knees almost touching in the confined space. Buck’s expression was focused, professional, but Eddie could feel the tension radiating off him. When Bobby started assigning roles, Eddie’s stomach clenched.
“Buck, you’re on rappel for the car at the barrier. Eddie, you’re his backup.”
Perfect. Just perfect.
They arrived to find a silver Honda dangling precariously over the edge of the overpass, its back wheels caught on the remnants of the barrier. The driver was conscious but panicked, his movements threatening to shift the already unstable vehicle.
Buck moved with practiced efficiency, securing his line while Eddie checked his gear. Despite Eddie’s anxiety about Buck having figured him out, he had to admit–the guy knew his stuff. Buck’s movements were confident, precise, no wasted motion as he prepared to go over the edge.
“Ready?” Buck asked, his tone clipped. Professional, but with an edge that made Eddie’s shoulders tighten.
“Ready,” Eddie confirmed, double-checking Buck’s safety line. He knew this part. It was just like training, just like the military. Physics and procedure didn’t care about gender or identity.
Buck went over the edge, and Eddie’s world narrowed to the tension in the rope, the subtle adjustments needed to keep Buck stable as he worked to secure the vehicle. This, at least, was simple. Clear. No room for anything but the job.
“Car’s slipping!” Buck’s voice crackled through the radio. Eddie could see it–the back wheels losing their tenuous grip on the concrete.
Without hesitation, Eddie adjusted his stance, taking more of Buck’s weight to free him up for a faster extraction. He heard Bobby start to say something, probably about waiting for additional support, but Eddie was already calling down to Buck: “You’ve got about three seconds. I’ll counter any swing.”
Buck didn’t waste time questioning him. In one smooth motion, he unlatched the driver’s seatbelt, hooked an arm around the man’s chest, and pushed off from the car just as it broke free. Eddie absorbed the pendulum swing of their weight, using his own body as a counterbalance to guide them back to the overpass.
It was a textbook. Perfect. The kind of teamwork that usually built trust.
Except when Buck climbed back over the barrier, his expression was stormy. He helped the shaken driver to the waiting ambulance, then turned to Eddie with something like accusation in his eyes.
“That was a hell of a call on the timing,” Buck said, his tone making it sound less like a compliment and more like a challenge. “Military training?”
Eddie’s throat went tight. There it was–Buck picking at his background, looking for holes in his story. “Yeah,” he managed. “Army. You learn to eyeball structural failures pretty quick in Afghanistan.”
Buck nodded, but his jaw was tight. Eddie recognized that look–it was the same one he’d seen in Texas when people started putting pieces together. But before Buck could say anything else, Bobby called them over to help with the other vehicles.
Eddie’s hands were steady as he worked, falling into the familiar rhythm of patient assessment and extraction. But his mind kept spinning. How long did he have before Buck said something? Should he try to get ahead of it, request a transfer before things imploded? But Christopher was finally settling in, finally sleeping through the night...
Across the scene, he caught Buck watching him again as he efficiently splinted a woman’s broken arm. Buck looked away quickly, but Eddie saw the frown, the way Buck’s hands clenched at his sides.
Eddie had seen that building anger before. He knew where it led.
What he didn’t see was the real reason for Buck’s frustration – the way Bobby kept nodding approvingly at Eddie’s work, the way the other firefighters were already deferring to his expertise. Buck wasn’t seeing someone whose gender identity needed questioning.
He was seeing his replacement.