Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eddie’s trying to do the thing, the thing where he doesn’t fuck up his newly restored 3.764 Uber driver rating by talking too much. 

But there’s something about the way his fare keeps staring out Eddie’s back window.

“Hey, kid,” Eddie says in the voice he normally reserves for when his son has a nightmare, “you alright?”

“Yeah. ’M Fine.”

Eddie frowns and turns his eyes back to the road. 

The kid sighs deeply.

Because he is a kid; Eddie will eat his pine-scented air freshener if this fare’s a day over twenty-two. That fact alone would tug Eddie’s heart, combined with the sad look on the kid’s face, not to mention his curly hair, blue eyes. (Wide shoulders.) He could easily be Chris’s older brother, (or Buck’s son), if Eddie doesn't consider the timelines. 

“You know, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” Eddie doesn’t mention it’s only ever been Buck who’s said that, and probably only because Buck’s never met a silence he didn’t feel compelled to fill. (Not that Eddie’s ever minded.)

After a pause, the kid scrubs a hand against the back of his head; Eddie’s done the same after a fresh haircut. “I have to break up with my boyfriend.”

And Eddie … well, he doesn’t startle exactly. Gay people exist. He knows this. See: Hen, and Karen, and (ew) Josh. Tommy and Buck, now, too, although Buck hasn’t really put a label on it. It’s just hearing it in Texas from a kid who looks like his own that surprises him.

When Eddie looks back into the rearview mirror, he finds the kid staring at him. It makes Eddie shiver a little. Like he’s in danger. His neck feels twitchy with a phantom sting.

Which is crazy. Obviously a kid isn’t any threat to Eddie. He’s survived a war, a collapsed well, a sniper. (His mother.) “Wanna tell me about it?”

The kid shrugs and whatever tension hung in the air dissipates. “Not really.” 

“Okay.”

The GPS beeps and Eddie takes the turn it’s recommending. The screen warns him there’s five minutes until they reach their scheduled destination. It’s only now that Eddie realizes the address refers to a bar.

“What if I buy you a drink?” Eddie finds himself suggesting.

The kid scrunches up his nose. “Is this a come-on?”

“I’m straight,” Eddie says on instinct. 

Again, the kid shrugs. “So was I. Until I kissed Baz.”

Baz? Is that someone's name? Must be a British thing. “And, no. It’s not a come on. My shift’s up anyway.” Eddie makes his own hours but the kid doesn’t know that. “So I might already be planning to grab a drink. Platonically,” he adds, like an idiot.

At least it gets a huffed laugh out of the kid. “Alright. But I’m not promising to be good company. And you’re buying, right? ’Cause I’m skint.”

“I did offer.” Skint? Eddie guesses that must be British for broke, given the context. He cancels the ride as he pulls into the parking spot. It’ll be another ding against his record but Eddie has the feeling this will be worth it.

He remembers being that age, scared shitless and flailing. How much it would have meant for him to have a kind ear, shoulder … something.

There’s no telling what the kid actually needs but Eddie can manage a beer.

“So.” Eddie takes a sip of his Shiner. “Boyfriend?”

“Baz.” The kid—Simon—spins his pint of cider on the table. He keeps taking sips and grimacing, like he’s expecting something different but it’s what he ordered, so Eddie doesn’t know why the kid’s mad about it. “We met in school.”

“London?” Eddie’s a little embarrassed it’s the only British city he can name. Buck would probably be able to list out at least ten.

“Watford,” Simon clarifies. “It’s like … do Americans have boarding schools?”

Eddie hides his smile in another sip. “Yeah, kid. We’ve got boarding schools. Not super popular, though, but a cousin of mine went to one in Austin. Prestigious. His abuela loved to brag about it.”

Simon takes another disappointing drink. He makes a face. “Well, mine was,” his eyes flick up to Eddie’s for a second before returning to his cider, “really prestigious. Honestly, I never felt like I belonged. I wasn’t from … I didn’t fit in. Not like Baz.” The corner of Simon’s mouth briefly lifts then falls. “We were roommates. The cruci—I mean, we got paired up when we were eleven.”

Eddie whistles. “Man, I cannot imagine having a roommate at eleven. My sisters had to share but I got my own room. Perks of being the man of the house.” When Simon doesn’t elaborate, Eddie prompts: “Did you stay roommates until you graduated?”

Simon nods. “Until eighth year. Well, until Christmas …” Simon spins his cider, frowning some more. 

Eddie has the fleeting image of Christopher after the tsunami. The way he’d drift off mid-sentence. Eddie doesn’t want to assume but the thing is he knows a bit about what PTSD looks like.

Eddie shifts in his seat. “Hey, kid, look: you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable sharing, but if it helps, well, I’ve been there. Or, somewhere near there. I served,” Eddie lands on a fumble.

“Like, military?”

Eddie nods.

Simon mirrors the movement. “Yeah. Me too, sorta.” He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Maybe a military boarding school? Although that doesn’t exactly fit what Simon’s saying.

Eddie takes a sip of his Shiner; he’s nearly out. He feels the clock ticking, sand slipping through his fingers. He tries another angle. “You don’t have to explain everything but it might help to share … something. Unload your burden.”

“You get that from therapy?”

“Ah, I’m pretty sure I flunked therapy.”

That gets another rare laugh out of Simon. “Same.”

“I actually learned it from my best friend, Buck.”

Simon wrinkles his nose. “Buck?”

Eddie lifts one eyebrow and Simon tracks the movement with an almost wistful eye. “Like Baz is any better?”

“Right,” Simon huffs a laugh, “sorry.”

“You wanna tell me about him? Your Baz?”

“What’s there to say? He’s too good for me. I’m just dragging him down. Time to,” Simon makes a snipping motion with his fingers, “let him go, you know? Let him find someone better.”

Eddie’s heart twists in his chest. God, doesn’t he. “So why haven’t you? Let him go?”

Simon smiles down at his drink and it nearly breaks Eddie’s heart. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t.”

“But I have to.”

“Says who?”

Simon’s mouth drops open. He snaps it shut. Drops it again. “I dunno.” He pokes at his drink. It moves an inch across the table, leaving a snail’s trail of condensation behind.

Simon looks up at Eddie and he looks so, so young. A baby, really. God, was Eddie ever that young? Was Eddie that young when he had Chris?

(Was he younger?)

Eddie almost feels guilty about buying the kid a drink. 

“What about you?” Simon pushes his glass another inch away from himself. “You ever dump someone you love?” 

Eddie snorts and downs the rest of his beer. “Kid, if we’re talking about my love life, I’m gonna need another drink.”

Turns out the third drink unlocks their conversation, if only on Eddie’s side. Simon listens intently as Eddie explains the whole Shannon/Marisol/Kim thing.

“Are you sure Kim wasn’t a faerie?”

Eddie scrunches his nose up at the question. “What?”

“They’re notorious shapeshifters. Did you sprinkle her with salt? Touch her skin with iron?” Simon’s leaning forward, the most animated Eddie’s seen him. He nearly knocks over the mojito Eddie bought him (the only drink the kid’s liked). “I mean, some mages think faeries are extinct, but that’s just because no one’s seen one for a couple hundred years or so. Did she ask you for your last name?”

Eddie’s ears start ringing for some reason. “No, she just got a weird haircut and gave me a hug.”

Simon slumps back in his chair with a sigh. “Normals. So boring.”

Eddie jams a finger in his ear, trying to stop the weird whining noise. “Anyway. So you can see why Chris isn’t excited about moving in.”

Simon makes a weird pained face. “Chris, your kid?”

Eddie nods, already moving to pull out his phone. He lays it on the table and taps the screen. “Yeah. That’s him and Buck at the zoo before Chris left.”

“Cute.” Simon runs his finger along the edge of Eddie’s phone like he’s afraid to touch the photo. “Wait. Why doesn’t he want to live with you?”

Wasn’t Simon listening? “Because I lied to him. Cheated on my girlfriend. Brought home a woman that looks like my ex … his dead mom.”

Simon blinks at Eddie, looking confused.

“I traumatized him.”

Simon shrugs one shoulder. “So?”

“Geez, kid. Do I need more reasons?”

“I mean,” Simon slurps his drink; it’s mostly empty so it makes a terrible sucking sound, “I don’t have a dad. Think I’d even take a traumatizing one at this point.”

Eddie wonders what the creep factor would be if he stole this kid, brought him home, and tucked him into bed. Eddie’s got a stuffed longhorn he bought for Buck but he doesn’t think Buck would mind if he gave it to Simon instead. “Damn. Alright. You win this round of the trauma olympics," Eddie manages to say.

Simon grins. “Does that mean I can have another mojito?”

“Maybe we should grab some food instead,” Eddie says, thinking of where he likes to go when he feels lost and in need of home’s comforts. “I know a place.”

Simon lights up like the sun.

Simon’s on his second helping of tamales when Abuela pulls Eddie into the kitchen.

“And you’re certain he’s not Buck’s long-lost son?”

“This isn’t one of your telenovelas,” Eddie chastises her, reaching around her back to steal a still-warm tortilla, which he eats half of before continuing. “Besides, I’ve done the math. Buck would have been thirteen when Simon was born.” 

Abuela raises one eyebrow and Eddie feels his cheeks heat. 

“Okay, I know Buck gets around now but he swears he didn’t lose his virginity until he was seventeen.” Eddie shoves the second half of the tortilla in his mouth to change the subject, not that he needs the distraction because Simon chooses that moment to interrupt.

“Sorry,” he winces. “Bathroom?”

Abuela smiles. “I’ll show you.” She ruffles Simon’s hair as they walk out and Eddie tries not to notice how Simon leans into the touch.

Fuck.

He pulls out his phone and thumbs over to his messages. Chris’s are at the top, and Eddie reads through them, thinking about what Simon said.

Maybe Eddie’s been too hard on himself. Not that Eddie should judge himself against a parental bar that’s trying to fall through the floor it’s so low, but, whatever his mistakes, he’s trying. He’s here, in Texas. He loves Chris. He’s come back for Chris so, so many times.

So Eddie fucked up. Fine. He can’t take it back, but he can stop beating himself up over it. It’s not doing himself any good and it’s certainly not doing Chris any better.

He texts Chris: “I’m taking you to lunch tomorrow.” Presses send.

Almost immediately Chris double taps it. Eddie stares at the heart.

Wow. It can’t be this easy.

The three blue dots appear. Then: “can we get pizza?”

Eddie rubs under his eyes while the messages fly in.

“Abuela and abuelo won’t let me have it.”

“They say it’s bad for me or whatever.”

“Lame.”

“What about that place next to the mall?”

“Double pepperoni?”

“And maybe we check Best Buy after?”

“I need a new controller.”

“You okay?” Simon says.

Eddie rubs his face with both hands. “Yeah. Just. My kid.”

“Is he ignoring you?”

Eddie shakes his head. His voice cracks halfway through, “The opposite, actually.” When he looks up, Simon’s nodding like he expected this.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine not wanting you as a father.”

Ah, shit. Is this how Bobby felt when he met Buck? Because Eddie’s actually going to adopt a twenty-year-old, isn’t he? “You got a place to stay tonight?”

Simon shrugs. “Was gonna grab a motel room or something.”

“It’s nearly ten.” Geez. “Okay, well, if you feel comfortable, you can stay here. My Abuela won’t mind. I can call my friend Athena if you need a reference; she’s a cop. She can vouch for me.”

The corner of Simon’s mouth lifts. “Yeah, I’m not actually worried about you. I can take care of myself.” 

Eddie has no choice but to believe him.

With Simon tucked into the spare bedroom (no stuffed animal; unfortunately, Abuela doesn’t keep them just lying around for sad, lonely orphans), Eddie takes the couch. He lies there, staring at his phone, wishing he could call Buck but not wanting anyone to overhear his conversation. 

What would he say, anyway? I met a kid today who reminds me of you. When I looked at him I saw your face in the rearview mirror as I drove off to Texas. Who am I kidding; I saw my face, too. Because he wants to let go of something good he doesn’t think he deserves but he’s leaving behind claw marks.

Is that what I did to you? Do they hurt? Can I heal them?

Eddie falls asleep before he’s brave enough to ask any of his questions.

In the rush of morning, Eddie forgets all about his late night melancholia. He makes coffee. He drinks said coffee. He makes pancakes, Buck’s recipe, and Abuela oohs and ahhs over his cooking.

“It’s just pancakes,” he says, sheepishly.

“Very good pancakes,” Abuela replies, kissing Eddie on the cheek. “Where’s Simon?”

“Still sleeping, I guess.” Eddie frowns over at the hallway down which Simon’s bedroom lies. “I’ll go get him.”

Abuela nods and starts setting the table. Eddie feels nervous walking toward the spare bedroom; what are the rules here? He doesn’t want to disturb Simon’s sleep but he also wants to feed the kid. Based on how Simon responded to the tamales yesterday, Eddie guesses Simon doesn’t want to skip breakfast either.

Eddie knocks on the door quietly. “Simon? You awake?”

“Uh, yeah.”

There’s a note in Simon’s voice Eddie can’t place. “Are you okay?”

“Um. Sorta?”

Well, that’s not exactly reassuring. “I’m a medic,” Eddie reminds him, “and a firefighter.” Former, really, though Eddie thinks it still counts. “Trust me when I say that I’ve seen pretty much everything.” 

“I really don’t think you’ve seen this,” Simon mutters.

Oh god. What if this is some weird sex thing? Simon didn’t seem the type, but, then again, Buck keeps a ring cutter in the kitchen, of all places. 

Well. Better learn now than later. “Can I come in anyways? Check?” Eddie asks.

Simon sighs. “The door’s not locked.”

Eddie turns the knob and pushes open the door.

What the— Okay.

Okay.

Shit.

“So.” Eddie clears his throat. “Those … are wings?”

Simon grimaces. “Uh. Yeah.”

“They’re not fake.”

Simon turns around so Eddie can get a closer look.

That’s when he sees the tail.

Eddie takes a deep breath. Jell-o. He is Jell-o. 

More than that, he is a medical professional. He’s served two tours in Afghanistan. He’s seen a shark on a freeway. Survived a frickin’ beenado.

Eddie Diaz does not panic.

He is not going to freak out about this kid growing a pair of freaking dragon wings. “Did the mojitos do this?”

Simon bursts into laughter. He doubles over, holding his stomach. “Merlin. No,” he wipes tears from his eyes, “I had them before the mojitos. They’re, uh,” his smile falters, “they’re magic. Or, something.”

Now that Eddie's over the shock, he finds himself stepping closer, curious. “Magic?” And, sure, he’s a skeptic, but there’s Buck’s dumbass Billy Boils Curse and there’s a pair of wings growing out of a man’s back. Some things defy disbelief. “Mind if I …”

Simon’s jaw tightens. “Sure.” He turns around so his back is fully facing Eddie. Eddie hovers a hand over one of the wings but doesn’t touch.

“How long have you had them?”

“Over a year. Grew them two Christmases ago.”

Eddie nods, the reference to Christmas pinging a memory in his head, something Simon had said over drinks. “They don’t hurt?”

“Not really. They ache a bit sometimes when I have to keep them bunched up for too long.”

“Like cramps?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s gut lurches a bit. “So you feel them. Like they’re yours.”

“They are mine.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course.” Eddie pushes past the discomfort he feels about growing a whole new body part and tries to remember this isn’t about him. This is about Simon. Eddie can tell by how Simon’s holding his body that he’s afraid of judgement. And, yeah, it’s weird. Of course it’s weird; humans don’t have wings. 

But humans don’t always have glasses. Wheelchairs. 

Crutches.

“Can you fly?” Eddie asks.

That bleeds out some of Simon’s tension. “Yeah. Flew in the desert, actually. Over Nevada.”

“Wow.” Eddie hovers a hand over one of the wings. He’s sure Simon can feel the heat of his palm with the way his wing twitches. “Can I touch them?”

“Knock yourself out,” Simon says.

Eddie runs a hand along the ridge of one wing, firmly, like he’s checking for breaks. Obviously Simon isn’t injured, but he wants to keep his touch clinical. It’s investigatory. They’re going to have to find a way to hide them, probably, if Simon wants to ever leave the house. Which begs a question. “How come I didn’t see them earlier?”

“My friend Penny spelled them before we got to the airport.”

Eddie’s ears start ringing. “Spell?”

“Ah, shit. Yeah … um. About that.”

But Eddie finds himself moving away from the topic instinctually. “I’m guessing we can’t do that again.”

“No. I don’t have magic anymore.”

Eddie shoves a finger in one ear, trying to stop the high-pitched buzzing. “So how do we hide them?”

Simon’s back tenses; the wing Eddie’s holding flares out and knocks over a lamp.

Eddie stumbles backward out of range. “Only because I assume you don’t want to go out in public like this. You were hiding them earlier.”

Simon’s nodding, his jaw tense. “Yeah. Obviously.”

“I didn’t mean to insult—”

“You didn’t,” Simon rubs his jaw, “it’s just … sorry,” he breathes out in a sigh, “I didn’t mean to get defensive.”

“It’s okay.” Eddie realizes he’s holding his hands up like he’s soothing a spooked horse. He drops them by his side. “It can’t be easy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, no. It’s not easy.” Simon flicks his wings out and then draws them up tight behind his back. “Sometimes, I can get them …”

Eddie sees what he’s doing and steps forward. “Can I …”

Simon nods again and turns.

Huh. They can almost … “I’m going to touch you again,” Eddie warns, before gently grasping one of the wings and folding it toward Simon’s spine. “Wow.” Magic, Eddie reminds himself, as he helps Simon’s wings fold up like origami so they sit nearly flush to Simon’s skin. This they could easily cover with a jacket. “Cool,” he finds himself exhaling.

Simon laughs, a sweet, soft noise. “Yeah, I guess they are pretty cool.” He looks over his shoulder at Eddie and smiles.

Again, Eddie’s struck by how young Simon is. He smiles back. “My son is going to be so jealous, by the way,” he admits. Eddie’s certain at least three of Chris’s favorite fantasy series have dragons in them. “He’s been asking me for a pet dragon since he was eight.”

Simon’s tail flicks out and wraps around Simon’s ankle, like it’s anchoring himself. “Well, I’m not sure I count as a pet …”

“Speaking of,” Eddie steps back toward the door, “we should feed you.”

“Breakfast?” Simon’s wings lift upward, not unlike a dog’s ears pricking up.

Eddie laughs. “How do you feel about pancakes?”

Simon pauses before entering the kitchen. “I forgot about your grandma.”

Ah. Right. “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Eddie lies. He walks in first, hoping to give her a brief warning, but Simon must trust Eddie’s fib because he follows close behind.

Abuela looks up from where she’s putting a stack of pancakes into the microwave. “El Diablo,” she whispers.

Eddie can feel Simon shrink behind him. “Abuela,” he chastises.

“Ay, lo siento,” she winces. “Simon, cariño, come here.”

Eddie steps aside so Simon can approach Abuela. His shoulders are hunched, his wings drooping. His tail drags along the floor. Eddie pictures Buck, giving up that damn beagle, and feels a wave of homesickness so strong it nearly takes him out at the knees.

When Eddie recovers from his brief wash of missing Buck, Abuela has Simon in her arms, whispering soft words of Spanish Eddie’s certain Simon doesn’t understand. She pulls back and cups Simon’s face. “You have sacrificed too much, haven’t you,” she says. “Taken on too much responsibility at a young age,” she pats Simon’s cheeks, “like my Eddito. Come, sit down. Eddie made pancakes.”

“Do you have butter?” Simon asks as he sits, his cheeks flushed from the attention.

“Do I have butter,” Abuela tuts. “Of course I have butter; I’m not Helena.”  

They eat in silence for the most part, delicately avoiding the elephant in the room, or the dragon, as it’s more appropriate.

Abuela speaks first. “Now, Eddie. Do you have plans for the day?”

Eddie swallows a bite of pancake. “I’m taking Chris out for lunch. Pizza,” he clarifies.

“Good,” Abuela nods. “That gives me time to make Simon some clothes.”

“Wut?” Simon looks up from his plate where he’s been shoveling pancakes in his mouth like they’ll disappear if he doesn’t eat them fast enough. A dribble of syrup rolls down his chin.

Abuela tuts and reaches over to wipe it off. “You show up with no luggage; what am I supposed to do? Let you wear days-old clothing? No, no. I still have some of my husband’s old things.” Abuela tilts her head to one side, sizing Simon up. “I might have to tailor the pieces to fit, but I can manage.”

Simon looks like a rabbit caught in a hawk’s gaze.

“Keep an old woman company,” Abuela bats her eyelashes. “My Eddie, he’s always so busy. Working, talking to Buck. Helping Christopher. Let me spoil you, since he won’t let me.”

Eddie almost calls her out on the blatant manipulation but then Simon ducks his chin. “Yeah, okay,” he says, a note of wonder in his words and Eddie …

Eddie keeps his mouth shut.

They’ve barely made it out of Eddie’s parent’s driveway when Eddie spills the whole story to Chris, some combination of needing to tell someone and also not wanting to keep any more secrets from Chris who, bless him, listens patiently to Eddie’s word vomit. 

Finally, Eddie stops blabbing.

“You mean,” Chris scrunches up his forehead, “there’s a guy at Bisabuela’s with dragon wings … and you’re taking me to get pizza?” He looks so betrayed Eddie almost laughs. Instead, Eddie nods solemnly.

“We’ll get the pizza to go.”

“Cooooooool,” Chris whispers when he walks in on Eddie’s Abuela putting the finishing touches on wing slits in a shirt so old it’s almost in fashion again.

“Oh, Chris, good. Come hold these pins so I don’t stick Simon.”

Simon looks back over his shoulder and his muscles tense when they see Chris. Eddie guesses the kid’s not used to new people seeing him … like this. Wings out and exposed.

Simon’s tail snakes around Abuela’s wrist and she pats the tip gently. Eddie remembers doing something similar as a kid, the way he’d reach out for her hand on instinct, for comfort. How she’d gently pat his hand as well.

When did he stop reaching out?

Eddie pushes aside the question and follows Chris into the living room, setting the pizzas down on the coffee table. “I’ll go grab plates,” he says.

Abuela nods, “Okay, Eddie. Now, Chris, should I cuff the sleeves or leave them as is?”

“Definitely cuff. That’s way cooler.”

Simon huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Baz is always trying to get me to cuff my jeans. Says I wear them too long and they make me look like an old man.”

“They do date you,” Chris says, sagely, and Eddie wonders what YouTube influencer taught him that phrase.

When Eddie comes back into the room, plates and napkins in hand, Simon’s stuttering through an explanation of who Baz is to him without calling him his boyfriend.

Eddie steps in to help. “Chris knows gay people exist,” Eddie says.

“Oh!” Chris connects the dots. “Baz is your boyfriend! Neat. Does he also have dragon wings!”

“No,” Simon blinks. “I’m one of a kind, I think.”

“Too bad,” Chris sighs. “What?” he adds at the look Eddie gives him. “A whole army of dragon-men. Tell me that wouldn’t be totally badass.”

“Don’t say ass,” Eddie replies on instinct. “And, yeah, you’re not wrong. I still think it’s pretty cool that Simon’s unique, though.”

Simon rolls his eyes like he’s not buying the bullshit but his cheeks flush. “’S not like they’re actually useful.”

“You said you can fly,” Eddie reminds him.

“You can fly?”

Simon smiles down at Chris, a little sadly. “Yeah, I can. But only where people can’t see me. So, I don’t get to do it very often.” 

“Dad,” Chris turns to Eddie, and Eddie is trying not to be annoyed about how everyone has forgotten the deluxe extra-large pizzas it’ll take him at least two Uber fares to earn back, “we have to take Simon out past the National Park so he can fly. Can we? Can we, can we, can—”

“Eat your pizza,” Eddie says, “and then … we’ll see.”

Of course they head out the second Eddie finishes his last slice, Chris sighing the whole time, “Come on, dad,” and it’s only slight whiplash from how sullen Chris acted when Eddie first arrived in El Paso.

Finding a new friend who has wings and can fly. Gee, why didn’t Eddie try that earlier? Could have saved him a whole mortgage.

Abuela sits up front while Chris sits in the back showing Simon a new game on his Switch, which Simon patiently listens to and interjects occasional advice about. “Can you click there? Look behind that barrel. Ooh, okay, now flip over that—yeah, good job.”

It makes Eddie wonder, given the fact Simon had never even heard of a Switch before Chris showed him. Eddie puzzles over the bits of information Simon’s let slip. Boarding school, military-adjacent. The whole PTSD thing. And now Simon giving tactical advice on a game the first time he’s watched someone play, advice which seems to be working out for Chris.

None of it makes any damn sense.

Eddie shakes off his questions in favor of focusing on the road, Abuela chiming in with the occasional comment about his driving. Eddie tries not to be annoyed about it, even though he’d never complain about Buck’s driving when Buck plays chauffeur.

Eventually, they get out into the wilderness, some no-man’s-land between Texas and New Mexico where the intervals of passing cars slows to once an hour. Eddie turns onto a gravel road and heads out toward the nearest hill where they can gain some cover. The Prius rattles on the uneven surface and Eddie misses his truck with an ache he can’t quite swallow.

Abuela pats the hand gripping his gear shift and maybe Eddie doesn’t always have to reach out for comfort. He turns his hand palm up and lets her squeeze it tight.

Once they’re far enough from prying eyes, Eddie turns the car off. “I think this is as good a place as any.”

Simon steps out of the car, scanning the horizon like … well, like a soldier. He nods, satisfied. 

Eddie wonders about next steps. He thinks, inanely, of Peter Pan. Up, up and away! But Simon just shakes out his wings from where they’d been pressed against his back. He flares them out, flaps them once, twice, and then—

“Holy shit!” Chris shouts.

Eddie doesn’t even try to chastise him for the curse word. Holy shit is right. Eddie watches as Simon soars up, up and away, the sun caught on his silhouette until all his features blur.

“Dios mio,” Abuela says, one hand resting over her heart.

Eddie nods. What else is there to say? Simon can fly.

“I wish Buck were here,” Eddie finds himself saying.

“Oh, yeah, Buck would love this,” Chris nods, but that’s not what Eddie means, not exactly. 

It’s just … this kid who sat in the back of Eddie’s Prius looking like his world has ended now catches the sunlight in the red leather of his wings, casting a fiery shadow on the three of them trapped on the ground. Then Simon tilts away from the sun so they can see the wide smile stretched across his face and all Eddie wants is Buck beside him, looking up at this miracle. Knowing Buck he’d be wearing a backward cap and shielding his eyes at the same time, like his hat doesn’t come with that exact feature.

Eddie reaches out and swats Chris’s shoulder instead. “Think he can fly holding me?”

Chris swats Eddie back. “There’s no way he’s getting your fat ass off the ground. I call dibs!” Chris shouts and Simon laughs, points at Chris, then does a fucking flip.

“Show off,” Eddie mutters.

“Don’t be jealous,” Chris says.

Jealous isn’t the right word, but it’s not the wrong one either.

Simon does manage to get Chris off the ground, gently, and only after a few test runs that Eddie heavily choreographs.

“Dad,” Chris starts to whine, but Simon shuts it down quickly.

“We’re only doing this if I can keep you safe,” he says, nodding at Eddie like, I’ve got you.

Simon flies Chris around for ten minutes, not doing quite as many daredevil moves, though he does get them fairly high off the ground, enough that Eddie starts sweating.

When Simon brings Chris back down, Chris is windswept and in awe.

“Wow,” he keeps saying, “wow.”

Simon smiles sheepishly. “Abuela?” His pronunciation is terrible but no one mentions it.

“Oh, no,” she waves off his offer. “I am far too old and one hip replacement past making flying a good idea.”

Simon looks over at Eddie. Shrugs.

Fuck it. “There’s no way I’d live it down if I didn’t take you up on this. But if you bridal carry me, I swear to god—”

“We’ll do it the same as Chris,” Simon says.

“I weigh a hell of a lot more than Chris does.”

“Then I won’t take you that far off the ground.”

Eddie steps in front of Simon and only feels a little weird at how Simon maneuvers Eddie’s limbs to get him in a good hold, one arm under Eddie’s armpit and grasping the opposite shoulder and the other wrapped around Eddie’s waist.

“Actually, I think a bridal carry might be less insulting,” Eddie says and he can almost feel the eyeroll off of Simon.

It’s all the warning he has before Simon lifts them both into the air.

“Shit,” Eddie curses, and Simon’s laugh echoes in Eddie’s ear. “Dick.”

Simon’s not able to get Eddie as high as he did Chris, what with Eddie’s weight, the weird hold, and the fact Simon’s already flown both himself and Chris around for awhile.

Still, it’s enough to shock Eddie silent. To remind him that, yeah, Simon’s wings make it hard for him to navigate the world, but they also give him this. Isn’t this what he’s tried to impress upon Chris all these years? That his CP can be a gift as much as it’s a challenge?

When Simon sets Eddie back on solid ground, Eddie finds himself stumbling over to Chris before anything else. He falls to his knees and wraps his arms around his son. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too, dad,” Chris replies, seemingly surprised by the outpouring of affection, even though his arms squeeze back as tightly as they did to Simon before Simon launched them both in the air.

It warms Eddie’s heart to know that, even at fourteen, Chris still trusts his dad to stop him from falling.

The drive back is quiet. Simon and Abuela both drift off to sleep almost as soon as Eddie starts his car and, since none of them have cell service, Chris plays his game, blowing off Eddie’s attempts to keep him in conversation.

Teenagers, Eddie sighs. Their affection is fickle as fuck; that much is consistent. 

They get signal back when they reach the main highway, and suddenly Eddie feels his phone start to buzz incessantly in his pocket. For some reason, the sharp shift fills him with dread, like the station alarm ringing him out of sleep. 

“What the—”

“Is Buck texting you, too?” Chris asks.

“I don’t know; I can’t check. No texting and driving, remember?” 

“He’s freaking out, dad. Something about wizards? Do you think it’s Simon-related?”

Simon sputters awake at the sound of his name. “Wuttzit?” Then, he immediately falls back asleep.

Eddie eyes Simon in the rear view mirror and pitches his voice lower to answer Chris: “I don’t know.” Eddie’s stomach turns; how much do they really know Simon? Could picking him up have put Eddie’s family in danger? He likes the kid, he does, but Eddie can’t help thinking about his train of thought from earlier. Simon’s vague background. His wings. Magic. Something about a spell? Eddie winces; bracing for a phantom pain that doesn’t come.

Huh.

Weird … it just feels like thinking about magic or spells or whatever should come with some other sensation. A bell? Maybe?

Eddie frowns about it all the way to Abuela’s, Chris trying to raise Buck on the phone, but since his hours-earlier texting spree it appears Buck has gone radio silent.

“I’m worried,” Chris finally says, as Eddie pulls into Abuela’s neighborhood.

“Me too,” Eddie replies.

Eddie’s knuckles turn white where they grip the steering wheel and his heart races, anxious to get back to Abuela’s for some reason. Like somehow he knows being inside her home will make them all safe, Simon included.

But they don’t make it that far.

Because the second Eddie turns onto her street he sees them: three strangers standing on the curb outside her house. Their faces hidden in dusk’s shadows. Three arms point in their direction. A man raises his wand. A woman scowls. The third man … waves?

“Hi,” the man (tall, black, amiable face, Lennon glasses) greets them as Eddie pulls the car into the driveway, his window cracked to hear the man say, “I’m Shepard.”

The next five minutes lasts both two hours and two seconds.

Simon and Abuela wake, Simon with every limb flailing, Abuela a bit more delicately. One of Simon’s talons gets stuck in Chris’s hair; his tail batters against the window, three voices shout, “Simon!”

Eddie worries about the one he knows, his son, as he tries to help get Simon untangled from Chris.

Meanwhile, two of the three strangers rush to Simon’s door. 

“Are you hurt?” a man (tall, pale, sharp widow’s peak, smells like a fancy department for some reason) asks.

“Simon’s fine, but can you back off?” Eddie snaps. When the man brandishes (oh, geez, is that a fucking wand) at Eddie, Eddie nearly snaps it in half. “His wing is caught on my son.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon cries, working with Eddie to get Chris untangled. “Shit, shit, Chris, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Chris winces, “I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better!” Simon and Eddie echo in sync. They give each other a wry look before turning back to Chris, although his hair seems to be finally freed from Simon’s talon.

“You okay?” Eddie asks.

Chris looks at Simon to answer. “I’m fine. Honest.”

Simon sighs.

That’s when the knocking on his window restarts. “Simon.”

Simon’s tail presses against the window and the man gets the door open, spilling Simon out of the car and into his arms.

“Baz,” Simon sighs, looking up at the man who must be his boyfriend?

Eddie is sorely confused. “Can someone explain what’s going on here?” he asks, stepping out of the car.

A shorter woman with curly brown hair and cateye glasses jumps in front of Eddie, waving a purple stone around. Oh, good god. Eddie is so glad Chimney’s not here to see this; ever since that woman got impaled by a crystal he’s forever going on about powerful rocks. “You kidnapped Simon!”

“I gave him a ride!” Eddie shouts before realizing that the woman’s the same age as Simon, maybe younger. He runs a hand down his face and resists the urge to crouch until they’re eye-to-eye. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that they’re kids who missed their friend. In a calmer voice, he explains: “I picked him up at the bus station. It was clear he had nowhere to stay. I gave him my Abuela’s spare bedroom.” Eddie gestures toward his Abuela who is watching the whole scene with a bemused look on her face.

The presence of a grandma does what it often does: eases the tension dramatically.

The woman frowns and steps back. The third man—Shepard—approaches Eddie awkwardly. 

“Sorry about all that. It’s just, Simon went missing, no phone, no notice, and we kind of freaked out. All we had to go off of was your partner.”

“Partner?” Eddie repeats.

That’s when Buck steps out of Abuela’s house, eating a leftover slice of pizza. “Oh, good!” He takes a big bite and then talks through the chewing: “You’ve all met.”

Eddie buries his face in his hand and screams.

Shepard is a gift to Eddie’s sanity because while Baz fusses over Simon (and his new outfit), Penny scowls at Eddie’s Abuela’s bushes, Shepard fills in the gaps of what happened with an eye to detail that makes Eddie think he’d be an excellent dispatcher or paramedic.

“So we were at the airport …” he starts.

It turns out Simon, in the throes of some Eddie-level tantrum about not deserving good things, slipped away from his friends just before they were meant to take a flight back to London. Apparently there was some big emergency back home so Simon thought they wouldn’t notice him missing, which was slightly true since his three friend did actually get on the plane before realizing Simon wasn’t there.

“In my defense, Fiona was spelled in a tower,” Baz frowns.

Eddie is struggling to remember this is real life. Buck, on the other hand, is having the best time, elbowing Eddie anytime Shepard touches on something supernatural. “Towers!” he whispers.

“Normal buildings can have towers, too,” Eddie hisses back.

So Shepard, Penny and Baz dealt with the tower-Fiona-thing while Simon bought a bus ticket to El Paso.

“It sounded exotic,” Simon shrugs, and Baz looks at him like he’s both horrified and endeared by the impulse (it’s a dichotic sentiment with which Eddie is very familiar.)

It took the Greyhound seventeen hours to bring Simon from LA to El Paso, in which time the whole tower thing wrapped up and Penny bought herself, Baz and Shepard plane tickets from London to El Paso, through DFW.

“A terrible airport,” Penny stops glaring at Abuela’s bushes long enough to add.

Everyone except for Simon and Chris nod in agreement, most likely out of ignorance than disagreement. (If Eddie flies Chris to LA, they fly direct or through Love.)

Which brings them to here and now …

Except: “Wait,” Eddie says, “how did you even know to find Simon in El Paso? And how did Buck get involved?”

“Well …” Shepard looks over at Penny for assistance.

She kicks the nearest bush and then turns to her waiting audience. “You can’t hide from someone who loves you. Not with magic. Although,” she glares at the bush some more, “your Abuela’s gardening choices come with a hefty dose of ward-protection.”

“Come again?” Eddie blinks.

Abuela’s eyes widen. “Oh! I forgot all about that! Eddie, mi Mundo, don’t be mad.”

Eddie scrubs his face. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“I may or may not have hired a psychic/landscape architect to suggest plants that would bring our family prosperity and protection.” Abuela rushes the words out, like she thinks saying them in one breath minimizes their impact.

“Of course you did,” Eddie sighs.

“She did a good job,” Penny nods, “these are some powerful wards. My spells told me Simon was in El Paso but they wouldn’t specify where in El Paso. We were lucky enough to find Buck here at the airport. He lit up like a lightbulb when I cast the spell near him. I guess he satisfied the spell’s requirements to find love in a hopeless place. Lyric spells are so inconsistent,” Penny rolls her eyes.

Buck ducks his chin, like that’s ever stopped Eddie from finding him. What did Penny say? You can’t hide from someone you love? 

Eddie moves and dips until he catches Buck’s eye. “And why were you at the El Paso airport?”

“I dunno. Maybe I missed you or something.” Buck keeps dropping Eddie’s gaze, forcing Eddie to find him, over and over. Jokes on him; Eddie would play this game forever.

“So, what,” the corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches, “you found three strangers at the airport looking for their friend and you gave them a ride?”

“Baz was really sad about his boyfriend,” Buck kicks at the ground. “You know I’m a sucker for a romance.”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles, “I know.”

Chris whispers to Simon under his breath loud enough for everyone to hear him, “Hey. Remember how my dad said gay people exist?”

Simon snorts. He shrugs when Eddie glares up at him.

Eddie sighs; it’s probably a lost cause at this point to pretend what’s happening isn’t happening. Magic is real, there’s a man with dragon wings standing in his Abuela’s driveway, ugly ass plants can ward off magic, and apparently Eddie Diaz loves Evan Buckley. Whatever. He’s done fighting this.

Eddie threads his fingers through Buck’s. “So, what, you found Buck here and figured he’d know where Simon was? Big assumption.”

“We knew that he was connected somehow to Simon,” Baz says, his eyes fixed on where Eddie now holds Buck’s hand, “and we asked if he’d help.”

“I brought them to you,” Buck’s grip on Eddie is tight enough to hurt, not that Eddie’s planning to complain. “You always know what to do.”

“Do I,” Eddie smirks.

“I meant Abuela.”

Abuela laughs and claps her hands. “Well, Evancito, you are, as always, correct. And since I’m so wise, I propose we all head inside for dinner.”

Simon perks up, his wings lifting. Baz looks over at him and smiles. He threads their fingers together and Simon stares down at where their hands tangle. He frowns, like he’s still not sure he’s allowed to have what Baz is offering.

Eddie sighs. “Simon. They flew across the ocean twice for you. You of all people know what a gift that is. Maybe it’s time to stop questioning whether you’re worth it and start appreciating the fact that it’s yours, if only you’re brave enough to accept it.”

Simon blinks over at Eddie and Eddie raises his and Buck’s hands like a dare.

He doesn’t wait for Simon to take it. He spins on his heel and heads into his Abuela’s home, tugging Buck along behind him.

Chris, Shepard, Penny and Simon finish off what’s left of the pizza and tamales while Baz sits watching quietly, which is not something Eddie plans to touch. He is maxxed out on good deeds. If Baz has an issue with pizza and tamales, he’s going to have to bring it up on his own. Eddie refuses to dig any deeper.

No. More. Mysteries.

At least until tomorrow.

“So,” Buck tugs at where he and Eddie are still holding hands, “this is new.”

“Is it really?”

“Eddie,” Buck sighs.

“Tomorrow,” Eddie promises. “We can talk about it tomorrow for as long as you want. But tonight?” Eddie leans in and rests his head on Buck’s (mmm) shoulder. “Tonight I just want to be grateful you’re here.”

“I can do that,” Buck whispers.

They watch the kids eat pizza, laugh and catch up. There’s a lot Eddie doesn’t understand about their dynamic, and quite a lot of problems left to solve, but that’s for Tomorrow Eddie to deal with. Tonight, Eddie lets himself enjoy having the people he loves under one roof, safe and found.