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The end of September in LA still felt like summer– unreasonably warm, golden light spilling across the cracked sidewalks as the sun dipped low behind the hills. The sky glowed orange and pink, streaked like cotton candy, and a light breeze carried the distant hum of traffic and the smell of someone grilling a few houses down.
Eddie pulled the truck into their driveway, the familiar creak of the engine grounding him after a long shift. As he turned off the ignition, Chris was already unbuckling his seatbelt in the back seat, excitement practically radiating off him.
“Movie night!” Chris declared as he jumped out, backpack thumping against his side as he ran to the front door. “I pick!”
Buck laughed, stretching as he climbed out. “Please let it be something without talking animals this time.”
Inside, the house was cool, the AC humming softly, their sneakers thumping against the floor as they kicked them off near the door. The smell of faint detergent and Buck’s leftover takeout greeted them, along with the cozy messiness of shared domestic life– keys tossed into the bowl, a hoodie slung over a chair, Chris’s latest LEGO project scattered across the coffee table.
Buck collapsed onto the couch with a satisfied groan, grabbing the remote. “Movie night?” he offered, eyes already gleaming.
Chris appeared around the corner, grinning. “Can we watch Captain America?”
Eddie shot Buck a look. “Didn’t we watch that two weeks ago?”
Buck’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “Absolutely,” he said, completely ignoring Eddie’s tone.
Eddie raised a brow, folding his arms as he leaned on the back of the couch. “Again?”
Buck turned toward him with a sheepish, almost guilty smile. “What? It’s a classic. Plus, Chris Evans is... you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Hot.”
Eddie blinked at him, deadpan. “Is that your official opinion as a firefighter or just as a man deeply moved by America’s ass?”
Buck snorted, laughing. “Definitely both.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward. He wandered into the kitchen to grab a beer, listening to the chatter from the living room– Chris giving Buck an impromptu quiz on MCU trivia, Buck dramatically defending Steve Rogers’ right to carry a giant shield in a modern age. It was chaos. It was comfortable. It was home.
As the movie started, Eddie sank into the armchair beside the couch, one leg tucked under him, bottle resting on his knee. He watched Chris sit nestled against Buck’s side, both of them quoting lines from memory and arguing over whether the shield should really be able to bounce like that.
Eddie barely followed the plot. His eyes kept drifting to Buck– wide-eyed and grinning, gesturing wildly, completely in his element.
It hit him all over again: last year, Buck had surprised him– dressed as Fiyero, grinning under stage makeup and green lighting, heart on his sleeve. It had cracked something open in Eddie, something honest and terrifying and exhilarating.
This year, as Steve Rogers threw his shield across the screen and Buck whistled low in appreciation, Eddie felt something stir in his chest.
It was his turn.
The next morning, the house was quiet. Chris had already headed off to school with a bounce in his step, excited for science lab day, and Buck had left for his usual sunrise run, earbuds in, shirt practically an afterthought. That gave Eddie a small but golden window of opportunity.
He grabbed his keys and headed across town, heart thudding a little harder than it should’ve for something as mundane as asking to borrow a sewing machine.
Maddie’s apartment was peaceful when he knocked– mid-morning sunlight spilling through the hallway windows, the scent of someone’s coffee drifting faintly through the building. The door opened a few moments later, revealing Maddie in a hoodie and leggings, her hair thrown up in a messy bun and an eyebrow already arched in suspicion.
Eddie offered a sheepish smile, one hand scratching the back of his neck. “Hey.”
She crossed her arms, leaned on the doorframe, and tilted her head like a patient older sister who had seen too much.
“What did my brother do this time?”
Eddie laughed, ducking his head. “Nothing. Actually, this is… kind of payback. Or–more like a callback?”
Maddie narrowed her eyes. “Go on.”
He stepped inside as she waved him through, the familiar comfort of her place making it easier to talk. He explained it all while pacing lightly across the living room– how Buck surprised him last Halloween dressed as Prince Fiyero, how that moment had practically kickstarted everything between them. How Buck had put so much effort into it, down to every glittering detail. And now, with Halloween creeping closer and Captain America freshly re-cemented as Buck’s celebrity crush, Eddie had an idea. A big one.
Maddie stared at him for a long beat, arms still folded.
Then she let out a loud, theatrical groan.
“Oh my God. You two are ridiculous.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a reluctant yes,” she said, shaking her head but smiling anyway. “Honestly, I should’ve seen this coming.”
Eddie grinned. “You helped him last year, didn’t you?”
She sighed like a woman who had known chaos her entire life and had finally stopped fighting it. “The sewing machine’s in the hall closet. Try not to sew your fingers together.”
“No promises,” Eddie said with a laugh, already heading in that direction.
Maddie called after him, “And if he starts crying when he sees you in that suit, I expect a photo.”
“Deal.”
The fabric store was overwhelming. Eddie had walked in with a sense of quiet confidence and walked out 45 minutes later with three different shades of blue, two rolls of thread, a spool of elastic he wasn’t even sure he needed, and a burning question about whether spandex should feel that slippery. He texted Maddie twice while in the checkout line to make sure he wasn’t buying something that would melt in the dryer.
When he got home, he immediately dove into YouTube, his search history quickly filling up with things like “beginner cosplay tutorials,” “how to sew stretch fabric without losing your mind,” and “Captain America suit breakdown (MCU accurate, please).” He had two browser tabs open for reference photos of Chris Evans, and at one point, paused mid-stitch to mutter, “How the hell do you even make shoulder pads sexy?”
But the real challenge wasn’t the costume itself– it was hiding it from Buck.
Last year, Buck had the luxury of his loft to prep in secret. Eddie, however, was now sharing a house, a closet, a laundry basket, and– unfortunately– a Google account with the most observant man alive. It was only a matter of time before Buck stumbled upon a half-sewn sleeve or a suspicious Amazon cart.
He needed backup.
Which led him to Hen and Karen’s front door one bright Saturday morning, Maddie’s sewing machine cradled awkwardly in his arms like an offering.
Hen opened the door with a suspicious squint, eyes flicking to the machine.
“Either you’re fixing a uniform or you’ve finally cracked,” she said.
Eddie exhaled, already feeling like this was the beginning of a very long explanation. “I’m making a Captain America suit.”
Hen raised both eyebrows. “You’re what now?”
Karen appeared behind her, sipping coffee in a sweatshirt and fuzzy socks. “I’m sorry – did he say he’s sewing a superhero costume?”
“For Buck,” Eddie clarified quickly. “For Halloween. He surprised me last year as Fiyero, remember? I’m returning the favor.”
There was a beat of stunned silence as the words sank in.
Then both women burst into laughter.
Karen nearly choked on her coffee. Hen had to brace herself on the doorframe, laughing so hard her eyes welled up. Eddie just stood there, mildly offended, mostly resigned.
“I’m serious,” he said with a small, proud shrug. “I’ve got blue fabric and everything.”
“You are so in love with him,” Karen said, grinning.
“Disgustingly in love,” Hen agreed. “Come on in.”
Eddie followed them inside, placing the sewing machine gently on their dining table. The house smelled like cinnamon and clean laundry. The kind of place where plans could safely be ridiculous.
Karen reached into the kitchen drawer and came back with a spare key.
“You can use the guest room to work. Hen and I are gone most mornings, so you’ll have the place to yourself.”
“But,” Hen added, a mischievous glint in her eye, “on one condition.”
Eddie turned, wary. “What?”
“You have to send a photo of the final look to the Chaos Crew group chat.”
Eddie groaned, already imagining the explosion of notifications and the inevitable teasing.
“I walked into that one, didn’t I?”
Karen grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”
Eddie sighed and held out his hand for the key. “Fine. But if Buck combusts when he sees it, it’s on you two.”
Hen winked. “We’ll take that risk.”
It took Eddie two full afternoons, one very long evening, and more patience than he thought he possessed to finally piece the Captain America suit together.
Hen and Karen’s guest room had turned into a makeshift costume lab– fabric draped over the bed, spools of thread rolling off the nightstand, and the vibrating sound of Maddie’s sewing machine echoing late into the night. Eddie sat hunched over it, jaw tight, muttering curses in both English and Spanish as the needle jammed for the fourth time. His phone sat propped up beside him, playing yet another cosplay tutorial while he tried to make sense of darting, hemming, and something called "topstitching," which he was pretty sure was witchcraft.
Blue spandex clung to every surface like static. The gloves had taken him an hour longer than planned – he’d stitched the thumbs backwards once and ended up with a weird lobster-claw situation. The belt gave him blisters, and he nearly gave up altogether when the shoulder seams refused to sit right.
At one point, Hen knocked on the door, poked her head in, and found him scowling at the sewing machine like it had insulted his entire bloodline.
“You good in here, Cap?” she asked, trying and failing to hide her grin.
“No,” Eddie groaned. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Looks like you do,” she said, nodding toward the half-finished suit laid out on the bed. “And trust me – if it fits even half as well as that Fiyero costume fit Buck last year, he’s gonna melt.”
Eddie gave her a tired smile. “That’s the plan.”
By the end of that night, the base of the costume was done – blue suit, white star, red stripes, gloves, belt. It was rough in places, but passable. He folded it carefully, hands almost reverent, and tucked it deep into Hen and Karen’s guest closet, away from curious eyes and wandering hands.
Keeping the secret was the hardest part. Living with Buck was like trying to hide a fire in a room full of smoke detectors – he noticed everything.
So when the Amazon box finally arrived on their porch three days later, Eddie panicked.
He’d been expecting it: the final pieces. Replica Captain America shield, faux-leather boots that somehow fit perfectly, and a wig – just in case his attempt at Chris Evans’ hair flopped harder than Thor: The Dark World.
He was halfway down the hall with the box when Buck spotted him.
“Hey, what’s that?” Buck asked from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
Eddie stiffened like he’d been caught sneaking in contraband. “Uh… tools.”
Buck blinked. “Tools?”
“Yeah. For, uh… fixing things.”
Buck squinted. “Since when do you order tools? You have, like, one hammer and you lost it in the garage last year.”
Eddie winced. “I’m trying to be more… handy.”
Buck tilted his head, clearly suspicious, but decided not to push it. “Okay… well, let me know if you need help with anything.”
Eddie nodded a little too quickly and power-walked to the bedroom, heart pounding like he’d just defused a bomb instead of hiding cosplay accessories.
He slid the box under their bed for now, making a mental note to sneak it out to Hen and Karen’s the next time Buck went on a grocery run.
This was getting complicated. And risky.
But the look on Buck’s face would make every last stitch worth it.
Halloween Night
Chris had left for the evening a couple of hours earlier – bouncing out the door in his Miles Morales costume, mask in one hand, plastic trick-or-treat bucket in the other, practically vibrating with excitement. Denny and his new friend Max were already waiting in the car, and Buck had stood on the porch waving them off while Eddie watched from the living room, nerves buzzing under his skin.
Now the house was quieter, lit with warm lamps and the faint sound of music playing from Buck’s phone in the kitchen. Eddie’s moment had come.
He slipped down the hallway with a large duffel bag clutched in one hand and locked himself in the bathroom.
The second the door clicked shut, he exhaled slowly.
It was time.
Piece by piece, he pulled on the suit – starting with the base layer of tight blue spandex that felt more revealing than he expected. Then came the chest armor, the white star emblem pressed flat against his sternum. The belt wrapped snug around his waist, red gloves slid on like second skin, and the matching boots clicked softly against the tile.
The suit hugged everything, from his arms to his thighs to – well, he now understood why Buck had been so unhinged last year over “Fiyero thighs.” He glanced in the mirror and had to smirk. “America’s ass,” he muttered. “I see the appeal.”
He turned slightly, admiring the seams, making sure everything sat right.
And then… came the hair.
Eddie eyed himself in the mirror with a bit of a frown, rubbing a hand through his naturally darker, messier curls. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Steve Rogers.
So, reluctantly, he reached into the bag and pulled out the wig. He’d bought it mostly as a backup plan, but now, he was glad he had. Golden-brown, slightly wavy, parted just the right way.
He sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled up a tutorial on his phone: “Chris Evans Captain America Hair Tutorial – Quick Cosplay Fix.”
Ten minutes later, with some creative adjustments, a lot of bobby pins, and more hairspray than he was comfortable admitting, Eddie looked up at the mirror… and blinked.
It was uncanny.
But something was still off. He leaned in.
Stubble.
Damn it.
Captain America didn’t rock five o’clock shadow. Not in the clean-shaven MCU version Buck adored. Eddie opened Maddie’s tiny emergency makeup kit from the duffel, the same one she’d loaned him “just in case.” He unscrewed the concealer stick and dabbed it along his jawline, blending with a sponge the way Maddie had shown him in a rushed FaceTime.
Another glance in the mirror. The difference was subtle – but clean.
He stepped back, adjusted the shield strap over his shoulder, and gave himself one final once-over.
Captain America stared back at him.
Not perfect.
But damn close.
He pulled out his phone and snapped a few mirror selfies, angling for good lighting, a couple of playful smirks, one full-body shot just to prove he nailed it.
Then he took a breath, grinned to himself, and unlocked the door.
Buck was in the kitchen, humming along to some soft playlist playing off his phone, completely unaware of the show about to hit him like a vibranium shield. He was stacking snacks into bowls for movie night – popcorn, some of Chris’s leftover Halloween candy, a few beers lined up on the counter.
He heard the soft click of the bathroom door and glanced up without thinking.
And then – he froze.
His breath caught mid-exhale. Time slowed.
Standing at the edge of the hallway was Eddie, dressed head to toe in a custom-made Captain America suit that clung like it had been stitched by the gods themselves. The overhead kitchen light cast a warm, golden glow that made the blue fabric shimmer, the red and white details vivid against his chest. The belt sat perfectly at his waist, the shield strapped casually to his arm, and the gloves hugged his hands like they'd been tailored in Wakanda.
But it wasn’t just the suit – it was the look.
His dark hair was gone, hidden beneath a golden-brown wig that was styled to near-perfection – waves parted just like Steve Rogers’, a soft curl falling across his forehead. His jaw was clean-shaven, makeup concealing any sign of his usual scruff, making him look almost startlingly younger. His face was relaxed, calm, confident, with just the smallest hint of smugness curling at the corners of his mouth.
He smirked. “Hey,” Eddie said, voice low and easy. “Heard you like Chris Evans.”
Buck’s jaw dropped. “I – what – holy shit.”
He set the popcorn down on the counter with a clatter, eyes wide, mouth still slightly open. He stepped forward like he wasn’t sure if Eddie was real or some kind of very specific hallucination.
Eddie chuckled and started walking toward him, slow and deliberate, the shield glinting with each step.
“Happy Halloween,” he said, stopping just in front of Buck with that same maddeningly confident grin.
Buck blinked hard. “You – you made this?”
Eddie nodded, clearly proud. “Maddie lent me her sewing machine. Hen and Karen let me use their guest room. I had to be very sneaky.”
“You sewed this. You wore a wig. You’re wearing makeup.” Buck’s voice rose in disbelief, eyes raking over Eddie like he still couldn’t process what he was seeing. “You committed to this. You really committed.”
Eddie grinned, the expression softening as he leaned in slightly. “You surprised me last year. Fiyero. Remember?”
Buck groaned, reaching out to grab Eddie by the waist, like grounding himself was the only option left. “Yeah. I remember. I just didn’t expect revenge in the form of America’s actual ass.”
Eddie burst out laughing, and Buck couldn’t help but follow, burying his face into Eddie’s shoulder for a second before pulling back to look at him again—like he was still afraid he might blink and miss it.
“I’m not even mad,” Buck said, voice hoarse. “I’m just mad I didn’t film my own reaction.”
Eddie leaned in and kissed him—quick and soft at first, then slower, deeper, until Buck’s fingers dug into the suit fabric at Eddie’s waist.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling like idiots, Buck whispered, “You know there’s no way I’m taking this costume off you tonight, right?”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Good. I didn’t go through all that trouble just for you to strip me before the opening credits.”
Buck laughed again, heart full to bursting.
He was so far gone for this man.
Captain America had nothing on Eddie Díaz.
Sunlight filtered softly through the bedroom curtains, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets and the quiet, steady rise and fall of Buck’s chest as he snored softly beside Eddie. Wrapped around him like a protective, surprisingly heavy human blanket, Buck was the picture of peacefulness. Eddie’s heart swelled at the sight.
Still clad in the Captain America wig – his hair styled just right – and the faint remnants of makeup on his jaw, Eddie carefully reached for his phone on the nightstand. He didn’t want to disturb Buck, but he had to share the moment with the Chaos Crew.
With a small grin, Eddie unlocked his phone and opened their group chat. The one place where they all shared their chaotic, beautiful lives – the 118 plus Maddie, Karen, Hen, Athena, Bobby, Ravi, and Chim. He selected the best mirror selfie he’d taken the night before: the suit hugging him perfectly, shield casually in hand, smirk in place.
He typed:
Eddie: Happy Halloween, from Captain Díaz.
He hit send.
Almost immediately, the replies flooded in.
Hen: OMG. AGAIN??? You just can’t stop one-upping Buck, huh?
Maddie: I helped this time and I STILL wasn’t prepared for this level of dedication. Eddie, you are officially insane. But like... in the best way.
Athena: That suit should be illegal. Seriously, where did you learn to sew like that?
Ravi: Bro, you even got the HAIR RIGHT. Like, I’m impressed and terrified all at once.
Karen: Wait—IS BUCK ALIVE??? Or did he finally die from shock?
Bobby: I need to have a chat with HR about the inappropriate levels of hotness at the 118. This is unfair to the other firefighters.
Chim: I’m just here wondering if you’ve made a matching shield for Buck yet or if that’s coming next year.
Eddie chuckled, his fingers dancing over the keyboard.
Eddie: Still hiding the shield... but Buck promised matching costumes next year. He’s just scared he can’t pull off the tights.
At that moment, Buck stirred, blinking sleepily at the glowing phone screen in Eddie’s hand.
Buck: I’ll have you know these tights are firefighter-approved.
Hen: Buck trying to justify superhero tights. Love it.
Eddie: Yeah, right. You just want an excuse to wear tights again.
Buck: ...Maybe.
Eddie locked his phone and snuggled closer into Buck’s warmth, feeling more than ready for whatever crazy, wonderful adventures they’d tackle next.