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Buck is a thrill-seeker; he has been since he was a kid, hopping off trees and skateboarding until his chin met the pavement, leading to many hospital visits and lectures from his parents who tended to be more worried of the financial costs they’d gain from each injury he gave himself then the actual physical well-being of their child.
As an adult he’s—for the most part—mellowed out. Nowadays when he risks his life, he does it for a reason. Climbing onto cliffs seconds away from collapsing and throwing himself into fires all so he can help others. It’s fulfilling to be the first on the scene, to be able to see the anxieties melt away as he reaches the person he’s supposed to be saving, the smiles on their loved-ones faces as they find out that their partner or parent or child or sibling is safe for another day.
Buck is still a thrill-seeker, but it’s done with purpose . Gone are the days of treating his body like a punching bag, instead he’s welcomed in a new era of total peace and relaxation on his days off, the only risk of pain he can encounter being the satisfying ache of a successful workout.
But as he stands on the grounds of the annual state carnival holding a mostly disintegrated and devoured stick of cotton candy in his hand and stares up at the Skylauncher 3000 , a drop tower ride with bright flashing neon lights contrasting against the night sky with deafening generic pop music playing from its speakers, he starts to wonder if maybe he’s outgrown the thrill-seeker title altogether.
Christopher is pointing at the ride, looking back at his dad and Buck with eagerness in his eyes as he practically vibrates in excitement, “We have to go on this one—Denny said that once you’re at the peak you can see the Hollywood sign.”
It’s the most emotion that Buck’s seen on Chris’ face since he became an edgy teenager who was too cool to spend time with the adults in his life, and Buck finds it endearing, he really does, but deep down he hopes that Eddie plays the overprotective dad card and says no.
It’s not that he’s scared—He isn’t. He’s a grown man for gods sake and dealing with extreme heights is a part of his profession. He has better things to do than be scared of a tiny little carnival ride.
Except the Skylauncher 3000 isn’t all that “tiny” or “little”, and he’s read enough news stories and seen enough cases firsthand to know that these kinds of rides don’t always end well. There could’ve been an engineering oversight or the ride could’ve been installed incorrectly or an essential part could’ve fallen off during the shipping process or—
“Whaddya think?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow at Buck beside him, the colors from the ride flashing off of his skin, “Should we queue up for the tower?”
Buck opens his mouth, then closes it unsure of his response, before opening it back up again, “Are we sure it’s safe for Chris to get on? It looks like it has a different kind of seat compared to the coasters here. I wouldn’t want him to be uncomfortable.”
There. Eddie isn’t overly strict, but he hates the idea of Chris being in any pain, so that’s more than enough of a motivation to get him to shut down going on the ride. And, really, this is just Buck being a good friend and taking the initiative to think of his son for him.
Eddie nods, contemplating, and Chris quickly chimes in: “There’s a tester seat over there so I can go see if it’s comfortable enough for me. C’mon, dad, please?”
He smiles fondly at his son, patting him on the back, and Buck instantly knows that he’s lost, “Alright, you go give the tester a try and tell me how it feels. We’ll go on but only if it doesn’t strain anything, okay?”
Chris nods and goes zooming over to the tester seat, Eddie turning back to Buck.
“Don’t you, uh,” He stutters out, “Don’t you think that maybe we might be too full for the ride? Y’know, we had the caramel corn, then we had the hot dogs, and we’re not even through with the cotton candy we got for desert—“
Eddie’s hands go over Buck’s, pulling the cotton candy towards him and taking one big bite, swallowing down what was left, “There, no more cotton candy.”
“Okay, well, that was rude considering I could’ve wanted more, but my point is that if we get on now we might get sick, so maybe it’s better to wait? We haven’t even done the carousel yet—“
“Buck,” Eddie interrupts his rambling, an amused expression making its way onto his face, “Do you just not want to go on the ride?”
He scoffs, “What— No . I would love to go on the ride. I’m just showing an appropriate level of concern.”
The two of them are silent for a moment, Eddie staring into Buck’s eyes so intensely it makes him want to squirm, before he snaps his fingers right in Buck’s face as if he’s just cracked a code.
“You’re scared to go on the ride.” Eddie says definitively.
“Am not.”
“You so are.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yuh-huh.”
“Nuh—“ Eddie shoves his hand right on top of Buck’s mouth, shutting him up.
“Buck, it’s okay to be scared, you don’t have to pretend to be—“
He licks the palm of Eddie’s hand, which quickly gets yanked off of his mouth.
Eddie wrinkles his nose, rubbing his hand on his pants, “Dude. Gross.”
“You’re the one that covered my mouth in the first place, you had it coming,” Buck huffs, “And I’m not scared , okay? I’m—I’m reasonably apprehensive. You know how many calls we’ve seen from rides like these malfunctioning? And there are even more stories of it on the news. What if we’re the next story? What if the Skylauncher 3000 makes good on its name and launches us into the sky and back down into certain doom? I can’t have my niece be without an uncle because we were all killed via skylaunching .”
“None of that is going to happen. We’ve been called to like, I dunno, maybe two accidents like these in the past eight years and none of them have had any fatalities.” Which is two too many, but Buck chooses not to interject, “You know just as much as I do that we have more of a chance dying in a car accident on the way home then we do on the Skylauncher 3000.” Eddie wraps an arm around his shoulders, dragging him forward to where Chris is now waiting by the queue entrance, “Come on, man, you love doing things like this. You were just hollering on the tilt-a-whirl we went on, what makes this any different?”
Buck shrugs, pouting at Eddie, “It just is . Don’t make me do this.”
“Okay,” Eddie unhands him, “I won’t. But you’re the one who has to tell Chris that you’re chickening out of going on the drop tower, and to a 14-year-old that’s enough to make somebody lose all of their street cred. Especially when it’s a grown man who fights fires for a living that’s doing the chickening.”
The two of them reach Chris, who’s looking at them expectantly and, well, Buck is really only human—And cares more about his reputation amongst teenagers then he’d like to admit—so he walks into the queue begrudgingly, Eddie whooping behind him.
(As it turns out, the Skylauncher 3000 doesn’t end up killing any of them, and he does end up having a good time cheering on the ride to the tune of the generic pop music alongside Chris.
Eddie, on the other hand, comes out of the ride looking like his soul has been taken out of his body, which he steadfastly blames on the caramel corn making his stomach queasy instead of the ride spooking him.
Buck thinks this goes to show that he really has maintained the title of thrill-seeker, despite any of the bumps on the way.)