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The phone rings just long enough that Eddie's almost certain it's going to go to voicemail. Having a proper conversation would be the professional thing to do, but he's hoping to leave a message. It would be ideal to dodge any questions.
He's about to breathe a sigh of relief when the call clicks through mid-ring.
"Captain Morales," the captain greets, his deep voice ringing through strong and clear.
"Captain —"
"Diaz," he cuts in, recognizing Eddie's voice. "What can I do for you? How was the service? My condolences again."
"Oh — I, thank you. It was beautiful," Eddie says. He hadn't planned on talking about Bobby on this phone call. Thought he was in the clear, however briefly, to not pay as close attention to the thick weight of grief around his shoulders. He pinches the bridge of his nose, drawing his focus back in with a deep breath.
"So, Diaz, is there a reason you're calling?"
Eddie puts on his most apologetic voice. "Captain Morales, I hate to say this —"
He sighs, interrupting Eddie. "I probably should have expected this."
"I'm so sorry, Captain," he says. Captain Morales might have already realized what he's calling about, but Eddie owes it to him to say it anyway. "I have to turn down your offer after all."
Because they're staying. Eddie and Chris. They're staying in LA. Made the decision together earlier today, officially, then told Buck over homemade salmon and asparagus for dinner. Around bites, a glossy-eyed Buck asked how Captain Morales took the news. So now Eddie's making the phone call to tell him. To show Buck that he's serious about this.
To show himself that he's serious about this.
"I can't say I'm not disappointed," the captain says.
A bite of shame shoots across Eddie's chest. He's never dealt well with the knowledge that he's let someone down. Even now, when it's someone who he has no plans of ever seeing again, it still aches to be a disappointment.
Chris shrieks in the other room, and Buck's over-the-top supervillian laughter echoes into the kitchen. If Eddie had to guess, Buck must've just executed an expertly placed blue shell in Mario Kart. He smiles.
"Again, I'm so sorry, sir." Eddie takes a few steps toward the living room, stops just short of the doorway, and watches Buck and Chris make a big show of elbowing each other. The sight of them, at home together in their living room — their living room — soothes the ache of leaving Station 22 high and dry. If this is what he gets in exchange, it's more than worth it. "My son and I need to be in LA."
"I understand," Captain Morales says. "But, Diaz, if you just need more time to be with your old co-workers, I can give you that. Delay your start date. A couple of weeks? I'd be willing to work with you."
It stings a bit to hear his closest friends — his family — referred to as co-workers, but Captain Morales doesn't know them, doesn't know their bond. "It's not just Bobby, it's …"
Buck must sense that Eddie's watching him, because he flits his gaze to meet Eddie's eyes, winks, and goes back to the game. He doesn't mean anything by it, just loves to wink — but it makes warmth fill Eddie's chest anyway.
"Ah. Someone special there tying you down?" Captain Morales asks.
Eddie's breath catches in his throat. "Yeah," he chokes out.
"That's two for two now on my new hires leaving the job for their wives."
It's a joke, it's meant as nothing more than a joke. Eddie makes a panicked noise anyway.
"Or —" Captain Morales continues. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't assume."
"No, Um. It's … my … Buck." Eddie's never said Buck's name to Captain Morales; he has no reason to know who or what Eddie's talking about it. Eddie doesn't want to explain any further, though.
"Huh?" Buck perks up at hearing his name, Switch controllers abandoned in favor of staring down Eddie.
"Yeah. Buck." Eddie repeats, more certain this time.
Chris elbows Buck when he notices that his attention is elsewhere. "Buck, you're in twelfth place! Buck!"
Captain Morales responds after a long beat of silence. "Well, I … wish you and your … Buck the best."
"Eddie, what?" Buck whispers, which is just about the same volume as his regluar speaking voice, just raspier.
One second, he mouths in response, sticking up his right pointer finger. "Thank you, Captain. We appreciate it." It feels good, using "we" to mean him and Buck. It's something he could get used to.
"If you find yourself in El Paso again — permanently — give me a call."
Captain Morales seems really desperate to hire him. Either Bobby's recommendation really played him up, or the crop of other potential firefighters isn't up to Morales' standards, and Eddie — well, he knows he's good at his job. He makes a great candidate.
Just … not for the El Paso Fire Department. That's not even remotely in the cards anymore. "Of course," he replies anyway.
"Why'd you say my name?" Buck asks, still doing his shitty attempt at whispering.
Eddie puts a finger in front of his lips to shush Buck, even though he can't help but smile too.
"Take care, Diaz."
"You too, Captain."
It's a relief to hang up the call. Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and when he opens them, there's Buck and Chris, their game paused, looking back at him expectantly.
"Well?" Buck prompts. "What did he say?"
"Yeah, Dad?" Chris asks.
The sight of the two of them staring him down from the couch makes him smile. They've always looked so similar, but especially now that Buck's in his "Curly Girl Method" phase; their hair brings out the pseudo familial resemblance.
Eddie plops down on the couch opposite Buck, squeezing Chris between them. This leather monstrosity is a little small for all three of them, and the one back in El Paso is old and falling apart. Maybe they can go get a new couch together, replace it with something that they can all fit on comfortably.
"He thought it was just about Bobby," Eddie picks up his explanation in the middle of a thought.
Buck cocks his head. "Huh?"
"That I just needed to be here to grieve. He thought I'd go back once I'm … over it or something." Like it's that simple, to just get over someone you love dying.
Buck shrinks in on himself a bit, gaze locked on the coffee table.
Eddie continues: "He offered me more time. To push back my start date."
There's a stricken look in Buck's eyes when he finally turns to Eddie to reply. "Oh, I —"
"You said no, right?" Chris interrupts.
Eddie nods. "Of course."
Buck's shoulders slump in relief.
"Good, because I am not going back to Texas," Chris says, and Buck spurts out a laugh, which tugs at Eddie's lips.
"Me neither, kid." Eddie reaches out and ruffles Chris's hair, much to his righteous indignation. Despite his squawking, Chris is still smiling, so Eddie doesn't feel too bad about it.
Eddie glances over at Buck to check in. He looks like a used rope from a particularly vicious game of tug-of-war; yanked back and forth and unsure what solid ground feels like anymore. There must be a way for Eddie to reassure Buck, to make him trust that he and Chris are sticking around.
"Hey." Eddie claps his hands on his thighs and pushes himself up from the couch. "Why don't we take an after-dinner walk?"
"You two can but I'm not moving," Chris replies, which is exactly what Eddie had been banking on, hoping for a little bit of alone time with Buck. This conversation needs to be one-on-one.
Eddie turns a raised eyebrow on Buck, and a wide smile breaks out across Buck's face. "Yeah! Just let me pee and get my shoes."
They went out after dinner the last two nights, too. Taking another walk tonight feels like the way to solidify it into tradition.
They set off on a leisurely pace, arms and shoulders bumping as they amble along. Buck points out enough patios and gardens that Eddie should probably prepare for the inevitable Home Depot trip and project planning.
They're a couple blocks in when Buck brings it up again. "I … couldn't help but notice you never really said what your explanation was."
Eddie lifts his eyebrow at Buck, playing dumb. "What did I do that needs explaining?"
"N-no, I mean, what you told the EPFD. Why you're turning down the job." Eddie's been been thinking through how he might recap the phone call in the back of his mind as they walk. Whether or not to tell him about the wife thing. Playing it off like a joke feels like the obvious choice, but something about that feels wrong.
"I told him the truth," Eddie says as they come to a stop at an intersection.
"Which is?"
There's a break in traffic, so Eddie books it across the street and gestures for Buck to follow him.
"That we need to be here," Eddie continues once they're both across the street.
Buck smiles at him. Eddie could leave it there, he knows that Buck won't push. Buck might not even know there's something to push about. Something tugs at Eddie, makes him brave enough to keep going.
"Initially, he wasn't sure if he wanted to hire me." Eddie chuckles. "Because he didn't think I'd stick around in El Paso."
"Mmmh?" Eddie doesn't need to look at Buck to know he's got that small self-assured smirk on his face. "Why's that?"
"The last out-of-towner he hired left after four months to follow his wife to another city."
"Oh!" Buck flails, stumbling. Eddie reaches out to steady him, but Buck gets his balance on his own before Eddie can make contact, and he freezes with his hands out on either side of Buck.
"You okay?"
A pink blush pools in Buck's cheeks. "Yeah. Just tripped on the sidewalk."
Eddie looks him up and down before inspecting the ground. Sure enough, there's a lip on the pavement that must have caught Buck's toes.
"Okay. Good to go?"
"Yep!" Buck brushes himself off, even though he didn't fall, and nothing is on him. They only make it a few feet before the interrogation picks up again. "Why'd you say my name?"
"What?" Eddie tenses.
"On-on the phone. With Captain Morales. You said my name."
They walk in silence for a few moments. Just when he senses that Buck's going to talk — maybe to let him off the hook, or maybe to press harder for an answer — Eddie clears his throat.
"He compared me to the other guy. The one with the wife. Said that someone must be keeping me here." Eddie takes a deep breath.
Buck makes a strangled noise. "Eddie —"
"I promised him I didn't have anyone waiting for me. Back when I interviewed." Eddie says, and then, before Buck can misconstrue his meaning in the most self-depracating way possible: "But I was wrong, so I said your name. I know we — Buck …" he stalls out, both verbally and physically coming to a stop.
Next to him, Buck stills too. They make fleeting eye contact, but it quickly becomes overwhelming, so he glares down at some flowers on the boulevard instead.
"I — I'm not," Eddie sputters. When he started speaking, he intended on finishing the sentence with not gay — but by the time the words make it to his throat, he can't get them out of his mouth. Not ready threatens to burst out instead. "Not yet," he says instead, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," Buck says, his voice gentle. "I'll wait for you as long as you need."
In his peripheral vision, Buck's hand makes its way toward Eddie's shoulder, but stops just short. Before he can yank it back to his side, Eddie darts out to grab it, wrapping his hand around Buck's fingers.
The urge to look at Buck is strong, so he gives in. An electric charge fills the air between them when their eyes meet. Eddie swallows, gathering up the strength to reply. He hates to make Buck wait for him. He should be ready, should be able to say all of the things that have been tucked away and hidden inside of him for so many years. It's just Buck, after all.
"I'll try not to be long," he ends up saying. "I promise." Eddie draws a cross over his heart with the hand that's still holding onto Buck.
Buck laughs one hearty laugh. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," Eddie says, squeezing Buck's fingers once more before releasing them. Buck's hand hovers in the air for a moment, like he doesn't want to break contact. Eddie understands: he feels it too.
"Take as long as you need, Eddie," Buck replies. "There's no time limit on this offer." He pats Eddie on the chest twice, smiles, and gestures with his head. "Should we keep walking?"
Eddie smiles and agrees, and just like that, they're on their way.