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Eddie arrived early.
Probably in line of what his parents would've liked.
Although he was pretty sure they would've liked it way better if he had chosen a fire station in El Paso.
Only half a win for them, then.
With a duffle bag hanging on his shoulder, he made his way through the fire engines, admiring the well maintained equipment of the LAFD’s Station 118, already a better sight than what a warzone ever gave him. His eyes roamed through silver and shades of red, getting for the first time in a long while, a spark of a good feeling.
As he walked into the place—everything looking so clean and polished—he couldn't find a single soul. He was supposed to report to his new captain, but it was hardly gonna work with no one around.
Must be really early.
Or maybe a couple of years wasn’t that much of a break and he still had the army habits printed in every corner of the disaster he carried as a brain, giving ‘early’ a completely different meaning from what was normal for—again—normal people.
Yeah, no, he was going into this brand new job hoping it would pay the bills and stop his road to insanity. Even if the job was just on the wrong side of demanding and the paycheck was its fair distance from great after all.
You see, Eddie wasn’t great at making the proper choice.
God knows he had tried.
Climbing up the stairs, boots resonating in every step, he reached the loft. It was empty too, aside from a man standing in the kitchen, in front of the stove, piling hotcakes with practiced ease. It was breakfast time, it seemed.
Hesitating a little, Eddie stood on his feet a little longer. The man either hadn’t heard him or didn’t care for the sudden company. He cleared his throat in an attempt to catch his attention, he needed to report, after all.
"Good morning, do you know where I can find Captain Nash?" He asked, approaching the kitchen.
The man turned around with a smile, not surprised in the slightest. "Edmundo Diaz, I dare to assume?" He turned the stove off. The plate in his uniform read the name Nash. Captain Nash.
Eddie stood up straighter. Call it the force of habit.
"Just Eddie, if possible." He replied, mildly cautious.
"Of course," the Captain walked his way. "No one here goes by full name anyway." Standing in front of him, he extended his right hand. "Bobby Nash, we talked on the phone. A pleasure."
Eddie was greeted by a strong—slightly dusted in flour—grip.
"The pleasure is mine, Sir." And he meant it.
"Bobby is just fine," he said, letting go of his hand, gentle smile still on.
"Okay, Bobby." Eddie couldn't help but smile back. He then peeked behind his new boss back, "is breakfast dutty a thing here?"
Captain Nash—Bobby let out a good hearted laugh. "No, no, it's sort of my thing, but if you ever feel like you want to relive me, I'll be very grateful."
"I think it'll be better for everyone if I just didn't." Eddie answered, sincerely. Wouldn’t want to send his coworkers to the hospital via food poisoning on his first day.
Bobby just patted him on the back. "Go get ready, everyone should be coming in a second."
-
In a second turned out to be when he was in the middle of dressing up in the glass locker room—while he was still wondering why it had to be made of glass.
He heard the laughter first, coming from somewhere behind him, while he was facing the lockers, still fumbling with the brand new LAFD shirt he was trying to get past his shoulders. Following footsteps were accompanied by a small group of people, Bobby in front of them all. Introductions were made in a whirlwind of smiles and pats on his back.
Wilson—Hen—greeted him with a blinding smile and a level of confidence to envy. The kind of attitude that gives actual perspective to highschoolers who think they’re cool.
Chimney—whose name was Howard, but no one ever called him that—promised him a story about—well, a Chimney—for another time.
And behind them, towering over the rest of his crew, was this guy, Buck, who just gave him a look from head to toe and didn't say much. Eddie couldn't really blame him, for all he knew the man could be a little shy—not that he was well versed on personality types for that matter. The thing is, he looked about his age, so maybe, in a couple of months—or years, he would take anything at this point—they could be friends.
It sounded silly. A friend his age.
But was it really?
The army was not shaped to make friends. In a constant fight to survive and go back home, in a place so full of hatred and pain, you don’t find healthy, meaningful relationships that easily. And in the case you manage to find them, you realize where you are and then it turns out scary to build around them and keep them. You just don't go looking for friends in a place like that.
Part-time jobs? Even worse, since they didn’t seem to want him in those for more than a short while. You can’t form a bond if you don’t stay.
The last time he made a real connection with someone his age was probably Shannon.
Shannon, who disappeared one day leaving just a note behind.
And before that? He couldn't remember.
But he had always wanted a friend his age.
-
Half an hour passed and Eddie discovered a handful of stuff about his new team.
First of all, his boss was the ultimate Gordon-Ramsay-but-make-it-firefighter. Bacon, sausages, ham, french toast, omelet, fried eggs, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, and really, whatever-eggs—Eddie didn't know one could cook eggs in so many ways—with seasonal fruit, cherry tomatoes, a healthy portion of beans, whole milk, skimmed milk, lactose free milk, both whole and skimmed, soy milk, almond milk and some more vegan stuff he had never seen in his life but looked like milk anyway. Fresh sprimed orange juice and pomelo juice somehow, a tower of waffles, another of hotcakes, piles of croissants and bagels, the greatest coffee ever and hot chocolate that went wildly with any baked good you could take.
It was truly deranged.
Since it had been more years than it was probably healthy since the last time Eddie truly felt like he could eat to his heart's content, he figured that he could give himself a license on his first day.
Thirty minutes in and Eddie Diaz was a man convinced he had landed in the best workplace in the city of Los Angeles.
Because apparently Bobby Nash was one of those firm believers of breakfast being the most important meal of the day and he wasn't one to complain.
"Don't let him fool you, he does this for every meal," Chimney fake-whispered to him, not even attempting to lower the volume that much.
Bobby just smiled, pleased. Hen snorted.
"Of course he does, how are we feeding Buck if not?," she added, smirking.
That got a little, happy laugh out of their captain, while Hen and Chimney didn't try to hide their clacking at all. Eddie laughed a little bit too, it was nice, and tall as he was, Buck truly looked like the kind of guy who could eat half the table all alone.
Seemingly affronted—but not too much—Buck tried to retort, but desisted. He just sighed and kept stuffing his mouth with the strawberries that sat on top of his waffles, glass of not-soy-nor-almond vegan milk in hand.
The second thing he learned was that Hen and Chimney did everything in tandem, from setting the table, to their actual job—they were both paramedics—or gossiping over their morning coffee and making fun of Buck.
“You know we love you, oh Buck, dear Buck,” Chimney teased him, trying to steal a strawberry from the guy’s plate.
“Yeah, no,” Buck answered in a grumpy tone, deviating Chimney’s fork with his own.
“You two are going to stab each other and I’m not doing anything to clean the mess up,” Hen intervened, from her side of the table.
“Oh, Hen come on! Join the fun!” Chimney prompted her, catching a strawberry for a second, before Buck’s fork dragged it back, viciously. “Careful man! These are paramedic hands.”
“It’s not fun.” Buck took the plate from the table and pulled his chair back to create more space between the strawberries and Chimney’s fork. “And your hands would be fine, far away from my breakfast.”
“Aw, man!” Chimney threw his hands up, “not you too, out of all people, spoiling the fun.”
Hen snorted, Bobby shook his head, a fond smile on display. “Let him eat in peace, Chim,” he said. “God knows he can’t handle a day without proper breakfast.”
At that, Hen just laughed loudly. Buck just furrowed his eyebrows a little more. “Health comes from proper nutrition, if I skip the meal, I’ll be jeopardizing my job.”
“Yeah, because waffles were the most nutritious breakfast you could find.” Hen raised an eyebrow.
“Hey! These are made of whole grain flour, it contains fiber!”
So, there was that.
And, well, Buck? He learned that today wasn't Buck's day at all.
In fact, he had seen him smile just once, when Bobby had handed him a special stack of vegan waffles. Lip cornering up.
If a little dimple came out to match the action, Eddie didn’t notice.
At least that’s what he tried to tell himself.
Later on, while Hen was showing him the ambulance, Chimney must've caught him staring weirdly at the guy or something.
"His girlfriend dumped him," Hen gave him a look, "ghosted him," Chimney corrected himself. "She ghosted him."
Oh.
Hen swatted Chimney in the arm, eyes open in disbelief.
"Why was that?!"
"You shouldn't be ventilating other people's business!" Hen reprimanded him.
“I thought you were trying to tell me to get the story right!” The look Hen gave him was downright scary. Chimney tried to look everywhere else. “Also, this is not ‘other people’, it's Buck!"
"Exactly," she deadpanned.
Oh, but Eddie, who had been raised in a latino household, surrounded by the most wonderful and loud women, in an even nosier neighborhood, only needed three seconds into that conversation to be invested.
You can’t talk about stuff like that and just… stop.
It’s rude.
Curiosity killed the cat.
"Man, that's tough," they both turned to him. "Was it recent?"
But at least the cat died knowing. Sue him.
Chim was quick to answer. "Nah, she left him months ago."
At that, Hen resorted to stomp on his foot.
"Ow! That's just mean!"
“If being mean is what it takes for you to keep the poor kid’s life inside your brain and not out of your mouth, then yeah, I’m mean,” she reproached, in what Eddie only could call, in sheer amazement, a carefully curated tone of mildly exasperation with a hint of ever present fondness.
Chimney crossed his arms. “Mind you, the kid is six-foot-two and a grown man.”
Eddie stifled a laugh.
“Not the point. At. All.” Hen pointed.
“Oh, c’mon, you would’ve caved eventually!” Chimney nagged her.
“No, I wouldn’t.” Eddie couldn’t tell if Hen was losing it in the good or bad way.
But, oh, of course Chimney didn’t falter. “Yes, you would’ve, and I would’ve joined you like the true friend I am.” He stated, fully convinced.
“Okay, no,” Hen took a breath, smoothed furrowed brows and turned to Eddie. "Look, Buck might seem a bit grumpy now, but you gotta give him time, he's actually a fun guy to be around," she said, that bit of fondness clear on her tone now.
The three of them turned to Buck, who was cleaning the engine's windshield, a frown deeply settled on his forehead.
Yeah. A bit grumpy, that is.
"Anyway, are you going for the firefighter calendar spot?" Hen asked, while giving Chimney a mocking look.
"The what?" he asked, confused at Chimney’s gasp of… was that betrayal?
"That's not fair Hen, c'mon! You're even against it!"
But right when Hen opened her mouth to retort, the alarm blasted loud in the station. Time to work.
Running towards his gear, still a little lost, Eddie let out a laugh. He didn't know about Buck yet, but Hen and Chimney seemed like great people.
-
The thing was as the day passed by, Buck's demeanor turned from mopey to pissed.
Eddie couldn't deny there was something in that look.
But pissed wasn't good anyway.
Or was it?
No it wasn't. Teamwork. Remember teamwork.
In the ride towards the scene, Eddie traded the silver star story for the firefighter-calendar-thing explanation. It was far from being the fairest trade but in a weird fashion he felt okay with it. These people made him feel invited to the party.
Not Buck, though.
Buck looked ready to slam a door in front of Eddie’s nose at the first opportunity.
See, Eddie was well acquaintanced with hostility.
Army teaches you early. Some parents do too. His parents definitely did.
So he couldn't help but think that Buck's problem of the day wasn't so much with his break up as it was with him. Which sucked.
Goodbye friend of his age. It was a sweet dream while it lasted.
Just the thought of Eduaro Diaz made him shiver. In the bad way.
Thank the Lord his parents didn't hate him. At least not like that.
And look, if after that, at the scene, he kinda had to take over Buck’s work, he was sorry. It wasn’t personal.
‘The job is the job,’ his father always told him.
So he did his job the best he could and wished Buck didn’t hate him even more.
-
Buck was clearly showing off.
The problem? It was working.
Even if he looked like a peacock.
And was taking pictures in all the wrong lighting and angles.
Wasted potential.
Not his problem.
Just—
Eddie was distracted.
Looking back on it—pathetic behaviour from him to be offering photography advice. He was no attention seeker, argue with the wall.
It didn’t matter anyway, because the moment Buck turned at him, he knew it was not going to be shit and giggles.
At some point, Eddie had caught the bad vibe, but to have it confirmed by this tree of a man, all pissed off in his grey tank top… we are sidetracking here.
The thing is, it was funny as hell.
Hard to believe that a guy like him could ever feel pressed about being left out.
Because, in Chimney’s analysis, that was the thing going on.
“Man, he's so pressed about you,” he said amused.
Eddie grabbed a towel to wipe his face, sweaty after the work-out session. “What do you mean? Why?”
“I mean, army guy, silver star… you are handsome, brother, full package.”
Eddie felt the left corner of his lip turning upwards against his will.
“Oh, c’mon, he’s not half-bad himself,” he answered back.
Chimney gave him a raised eyebrow. “If that’s what you are getting out of this conversation.”
Eddie just shook his head, trying to will down the faint blush that was making its way towards his ears.
Chimney kept going. “Look, man, from his perspective you are, like, the Buzz Lightyear to his Woody.”
Man, wasn’t Chimney something.
Lost, once again, Eddie managed a blink. “I’m not following.”
“Eddie, c’mon, Toy Story? The Pixar classic. You must’ve been a kid when it came out.”
Well yes, but his mother had said that a movie where toys moved and talked wasn’t from the Lord, so he only came to watch it when he got it on a random website—no, piracy isn’t from the Lord either—for Christopher a couple of months ago.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve watched it, but what does it have to do with all this?”
Chimney sighed. “Everything? The new shiny toy arrives at the house, so the kid drops his favorite toy and replaces it for the new one.”
“So what? I just wait until he throws me out of a window and magically becomes my best friend?” That sounded like a bad idea, Buck was taller, probably had the upper hand in strength.
Not in a fight though.
“You do remember some of the movie, uh?”
For the record, Chris had a phase.
Eddie just shook his head. “I mean, what else does he want me to do? Leave?”
At that Chimney shrugged, “give him time.” Then, patting Eddie’s shoulder, he made his way to the loft. “After all, between the window stunt and the besties part, Buzz and Woody saved the day together, remember?”
He let out a disheartened laugh. Children's movie theory was too theoretical in his case, when a grown man was acting like a toy—mind you, a cowboy—from a 90’s movie.
Oh, but Eddie had some pettiness in him, all right.
If the guy wanted to give him the cold shoulder, Eddie would do the same.
-
Lies.
Cold shoulder? Who was he trying to fool?
Now that he knew Buck wasn't interested in channeling any friendliness his way, Eddie became hyper aware of his kindness.
Not that it was hard. The man was just too kind.
In the same working hours the rest of them had, Buck managed to be everywhere, do everything and help everyone. Tidying up the kitchen with precision and offering Bobby his help right away with the next meal, checking up with Hen about some medical issue with her son that had come and gone, apparently, a couple of days ago, but he still worried—hell, he even catch sight of the guy sneaking an advil and a glass of water to the bunk room, where Chim had headed merely five minutes ago to sleep off the mild headache he was nursing.
The guys from the shift all had nice passing comments to him, a pat on the back, a fistbump, and even if Buck wasn’t in the best of moods, he always gave back a hand gesture or a nod, any sort of acknowledgement.
Also, there was this little thing he did where he would pat the engine every time he walked past it, like a puppy or something.
Reluctantly, Eddie had to admit it was—well, he didn’t know what it was, okay?
But whatever it was, it wasn’t for him.
Later that day, he found himself heading to the locker room, the sight of one Buckley name spread out on the back of the guy’s shirt made Eddie stop dead in his tracks.
They have had a long shift—Eddie’s second ever—and he was tired. Definitely not up to put on a facade to one-up Buck’s energy, who still acted as he was a product of his nightmares. He would wait outside and come in once he was done.
It wasn’t his brightest plan since, apparently, Buck was taking a call.
Phone pressed between his right shoulder and ear, he moved around methodically, folding towels, picking up hangers, retrieving the dirty laundry, carelessly forgotten by someone else.
The glass door was slightly ajar and a slim thread of conversation slipped through the open.
“Maddie, c’mon, I’ll be there in time for dinner,” Eddie heard Buck say, in a tone that sounded—warm.
Maddie. The name of a woman.
Didn’t Chimney say that his girlfriend dumped him?
“We don’t want to repeat the shower incident.”
Months ago. He had said months ago. Right before Hen trashed out any mercy for his foot.
“—That’s why you have the greatest brother ever, I’m stopping by the grocery store as soon as I leave.”
Oh.
Not a girlfriend.
A sister.
“Hey, Maddie, no—it’s okay, promise, anything for you.”
Eddie could only watch as Buck kept walking from one side of the locker room to the other, unable to stay still.
“Yeah, love you too.” Buck said to his sister—Maddie—stealing a beat of Eddie’s heart by chance.
He hung up and from his line of vision, in low lights, behind glass walls, Eddie caught the side of Buck’s soft smile.
Buck stayed a minute, eyes fixed on his phone screen, apparently texting, lips frozen in the tenderness of the expression. The screen light gave him a little more of his eyes, the gentle curve of his eyebrows.
Until he lifted his head, turned to the side and saw Eddie, standing awkwardly outside the glass doors.
Smile gone.
Failing to repress a huff, Buck took his duffle bag, closed his locker and made his way out.
“Could’ve said something if you wanted to come in,” he muttered, without looking at him, uneasy.
Eddie just stayed silent another moment before walking past the glass doors, feeling miserable for no apparent reason.
-
It all exploded. Literally.
Better than metaphorically, at least for what mattered to Eddie..
This guy, Charlie, got a grenade stuck in his leg.
Not even a week on the job and Eddie had drawn the conclusion that some people should tone it down a little with their hobbies.
One minute he was pulling the gurney into the ambulance, exchanging a hasty, still uncomfortable glance with Buck, and the next he was sitting by his side making snarky remarks about the job while pressing a fresh cloth into old Charlie’s wounded leg.
Eddie was stressed.
“What are we measuring up, Buck?”
He really was.
And Buck, apparently wasn’t.
Totally unfazed by the emergency unfolding in front of them, Buck made a gesture to say something else, probably a dick joke if the little grin was anything to go by—Eddie did lay that one out on a silver plate—but refrained from it, going for something about the streets of LA he couldn’t catch.
Eddie’s mind really tried to focus at least a bit into whatever the hell was going out of Buck’s mouth—don’t ask why—until he catched the unmistakable glint of gold.
God, were they in trouble.
-
Eddie knew the minute he saw the grenade’s golden cap that he was volunteering to pull it off and, as he laid down the plan to Bobby, he had already put on the army persona he had carried all the way from Afghanistan.
So sure he was of this one-man-mission he had gotten himself into, that he had a hard time registering what Buck said next.
“I’m in.”
Eddie almost did a double-take.
Was this guy for real?
He turned a little to his right and there he was, not even a real change in stance, eyes on Bobby, in a gesture seemingly close to asking for permission from your parents to go to your new friend’s house.
He had listened to everything Eddie had to say about the near ‘boom’ situation, risks be damned or whatever.
Buck was officially bonkers.
Which worked wonders for Eddie. The feeling washing his body at the prospect of not going into that ambulance alone achingly close to relief.
They got geared up, tools in hand. In the corner of his eye, Eddie caught a glimpse of Buck securing his kevlar vest, smiling widely at Bobby one last time before heading his way.
He had gotten used to missing his smile—and he wasn’t unpacking that thought.
With a trace of that fading smile, Buck took the box meant for the grenade from his hands and stepped into the back of the ambulance. And for some reason, even as Eddie followed right behind, he couldn't tear his gaze away from Buck.
Eddie’s initial concern about how they’ll manage without jumping to each other's throats—no time to spare to put thought into that— faded out in a total of three seconds as they slipped into easy teamwork, controlling the bleeding and getting ready to perform the extraction.
At the moment he didn't realize how he placed his hand over Buck's gloved one, but it suddenly was there and he couldn’t find the power in himself to lift it, so he slipped a careful caress on his fingers, just to ground himself as he positioned the mechanical arm to get the grenade out.
If Buck noticed the touch in the middle of the haste, he didn’t say a thing.
One pull, some encouraging words from Buck, a dangerous turn and it was out, like a miracle.
Eddie held the grenade like one.
That was the moment where his gaze found Buck’s. Eddie saw blue first, so much blue.
And then.
Well, it was a little bit embarrassing to admit.
By now, you would think Eddie was used to it. To his smile. After all, it was just a smile.
You would think so, wouldn’t you?
But, oh, when it happened, when Buck smiled at him, Eddie nearly dropped the grenade.
A breathless smile, directed at him, for the first time.
Eddie felt an honest to god punch on his lungs.
The only answer he managed was a look of sheer amazement.
He could only hope Buck missed it, too busy opening the box to witness his pathetic attempt at composure from the front row .
So he tucked that brief feeling into the box Buck was offering him. He hoped the spark of whatever he had felt on that instant would get cozy with the grenade.
The boxed closed with a click, the explosive inside rolling a little, daring.
Like a veil being lifted, Eddie suddenly was able to see.
Buck’s steady hands kept their patient stable, not just his hands but the firefighter who was actively saving a life and working a rhythm for the both of them, anticipating Eddie’s mind too used to other kinds of emergencies. Eddie would lift a hand but even before letting a sound out, he would have a bandage on his hand. It was… easy.
Just as Eddie opened the ambulance’s doors, he catched Buck’s soft but firm reassuring words for Charlie’s pride, a patient who may have had a dumb hobby but also a broken heart.
More hands came to help them take Charlie to the hospital, after they had pulled the gurney down in safe grounds.
The relief crash—yeah, relief, he was sure this time—had gotten Eddie fair and square, leaving him in a high, giddy.
Buck was mindlessly fiddling with his kevlar vest. Eyes roaming through something above them both, his attention lost anywhere and everywhere all at once.
Eddie couldn’t stop smiling as he turned to Buck. "You are a badass under pressure," he said without thinking much, getting the urge to fill the sentence with something, whatever, right after. "Brother."
Not that. Why would he say that?
Well, it didn't matter because the sheepish smile Buck gave him rewired his brain.
Two smiles in the same call.
Two.
Definitely the best workplace in the city of Los Angeles.
"Me?" Buck asked in a breath, eyebrows raising, making his birthmark steal some of Eddie’s attention.
He sounded so hopeful that even army-medic-trained-Eddie felt weak. How come a man as competent as Buck could feel like he needed approval like that?
"You can have my back any day." Eddie was not going to be tight-fisted with his praise for a person like Buck.
And oh, Buck beamed at that. "Or, you know?" He said, "you can have mine."
Eddie secretly declared himself Buck's biggest fan.
And for a second there he felt like doing something really stupid.
Not a clue of what exactly but if his brain wasn't checking in, it must've been stupid.
But then the ambulance exploded.
The end.
-
Just kidding.
Funny thing how an explosion saved him from making a fool of himself.
They managed to stop the McDonald’s drive-thru steady flow by making an enormous order, right from the engine.
Chimney even paid a happy meal for Buck—even though he didn’t let him keep the toy, that one was for good ol’ Chim.
They laughed as Hen tossed fries for both Chim and Buck to catch, while Bobby scolded them about oil stains, but kept track of the score from the passenger seat anyway. As Hen nudged Eddie to take part in the game, he couldn’t help but oblige, failing miserably at catching anything with his mouth and having a blast anyway.
After that shift, Eddie went home, steps lighter, smile wider and eyes brighter. He had a job, health insurance for his boy, an enviable workplace and people there who actually wanted him on their corner.
And he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t like that, but—he had a smile tucked in his pocket too.
Later, at night, way after tucking his son into bed, Eddie didn't think about those little feelings he locked down with the grenade.
He didn't think about how they blew up with the ambulance.
No, he didn't.
What Eddie did think later that night was how on earth the smile of a guy he just met managed to disarm him so quickly, how it made him go so insane.
He couldn't sleep until his face felt a little less warm, but he slept soundly after, nevertheless.
God save him from Buck's smile.
Or, God save Buck’s smile for him.
-
Next morning happened to be breakfast-on-shift morning and Eddie got caught staring at Buck picking up his carton of not-soy-nor-almond milk by the man himself.
“Oat milk,” he smiled. “I prefer its flavour over other stuff and its production requires way less water.” He was about to pour some on his glass but thought twice and looked at him again, hesitantly. “Want to try?”
Now, Eddie had tried almond milk once and found the flavour disturbingly similar to cardboard, but Buck was talking to him.
It shouldn’t surprise him that much after how their last shift ended but you could never be too careful these days.
“If you don’t mind,” Eddie finally replied, mirroring his smile.
As Buck poured half a glass of oath milk for Eddie, he kept thinking that no one could gain a friend that easily.
Call pulling a grenade out of a poor fool’s leg ‘easily’—Eddie’s bar wasn’t low, it was non-existent.
“Its discovery was pretty recent—compared with, like, soy milk—you can trace it back to the nineties, probably—” Buck made a halt on his small rant, and let out an awkward laugh while shaking his head, “probably you don’t care, it’s stupid.”
Eddie wasn’t sure when his expression had brightened up but surely it had glowed down now, head low and all.
But it wasn’t stupid, I mean, the nineties? Eddie was a toddler in the nineties.
He was feeling genuinely curious for the first time in years. “The nineties are recent? What about soy milk?”
That got him a confused look from Buck. Even though he answered, in a cautious manner,
“Oh, uh, the thirteenth century?”
Eddie spat the oat milk straight into his coffee.
“Hey, man that’s the good stuff!” Buck claimed, frantically grabbing some paper towel to fix the little mess. Eddie made his fair attempt at trying to help him, but just received a slap on his hand on return.
He retrieved, folding his arms, if Buck’s wasn’t letting him help, he was answering his questions.
“Who on earth was vegan in the thirteenth century?”
Oh and that, that made Buck laugh brightly. He even stopped cleaning altogether.
“That can’t be your biggest concern on the issue.” Buck faced him, grinning.
Eddie was loving the morning. “Why? You don’t know?” He teased, feeling carried by a grin and a wish.
An embarrassed expression showed up on Buck’s face. “Well, not exactly.”
“Not exactly.” Eddie repeated, trying to conceal his smile.
Buck honest to God sighed, “as a philosophy, veganism tracks back to the forties, although, there’s reason to believe it goes way before in history and—” he stopped abruptly. “I’m doing it again aren’t I?”
Eddie just snatched the oath milk carton from Buck’s side, “doing what? Tell me more.”
He thought he heard a huff of a laugh coming from Buck, but even if he couldn’t tell if it was real or not, Eddie could only watch, taking small sips of oath milk, as Buck leaned in one elbow, facing him and going into the greatest tangent of food diets, environmental issues and somehow translation errors on Wikipedia.
This breakfast briefing was the single most interesting and entertaining thing he had ever listened to, only second to Christopher’s stories and questions about dogs' thoughts process.
-
“Guess you didn’t need to go as far as saving a bunch of mistreated toys from a bratty kid to get along.”
Eddie turned towards Chimney, who was giving him a pleased smile.
“It was more of a bunch of explosives from an old man, but close enough,” he shrugged.
They laughed a bit. Buck had been right, the streets of LA had their own charm.
“So, what’s next, you two get to prevent him from being sold to a cowboy-ish museum or something?”
Eddie’s gaze searched for Buck mindlessly, “I don’t think Buck qualifies as an actual cowboy for that matter.”
He found him in the far corner of the kitchen, leaning over the counter with Bobby by his side, once again.
“I’m pretty sure he was, once,” Chim said after a while. “Hen!”
She looked up a little from her book.
“Wasn’t Buck a cowboy that one time?” he asked her.
“Don’t know,” she mused it for a second. “I mean, probably? We can ask him.” Lowering the book now, she went on with an amused smile. “I swear he’s like Barbie, blond, white, all those jobs…”
“He’s not blonde!” Chimney retorted, sounding personally affronted.
“Yeah, he is!” Hen answered back, matter of factly.
“No, he’s not!”
Eddie swore Hen’s unimpressed look could kill an innocent man.
“What do you call that hair colour, then?” she inquired.
“I don’t know! Not blonde.”
They had lost Eddie by that point, too busy staring at Buck who had locked eyes with him just a moment and smiled his way, easy and private in a room full of people, before continuing his conversation with Cap.
Eddie kept his thoughts close by.
Buck. A real cowboy.
Well, wasn’t that something.
Funny thought for another time.
For now, he was content with what he had.
LA, a job and a smile.