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Buck wakes slowly. For a moment or two, his mind hovers on the edge of consciousness. His body feels sun-warmed, and somewhere in the distance, he can hear the soft rush of what sounds like a waterfall. He often wakes with a start, ripped from sleep by the ringing of his alarm, so it’s nice that his body is letting him wake before his alarm goes off.
The muffled sound of running water nearly lulls him back to sleep—but eventually, he drifts fully awake.
Heavy lids peel open, and Buck lifts a hand to grab his phone, squinting as his vision adjusts after being shut for so long.
He must still be dreaming. His phone says 11:45 a.m ., which can’t be right. He set his alarm for eight. Enough time to shower, get dressed, grab the cake from the fridge and the gift from downstairs, and still arrive at least an hour before the party starts.
At midday.
He blinks again, expecting the numbers to change to the correct time. But instead, the screen shifts to 11:46 a.m.
Oh.
Fuck .
The phone drops unceremoniously from Buck’s hand and clatters against the bedside table. Buck throws the blankets off his body, throwing his legs out of the bed with his body following quickly after.
Suddenly, he stumbles.
His feet catch on the shirt he’d discarded onto the floor the night before, and he’s almost sent hurtling headfirst into the drywall. He lifts a hand, pressing it against the wall, catching himself right before he completely stacks it. It jars his wrist, nothing close to a sprain but enough to make his joint throb.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Buck mumbles, straightening up. He holds onto his wrist with his other hand, pushing his thumb against the aching wrist. “Jesus Christ.”
The pain fades fairly quickly, and he grasps his phone from the side table once more and unlocks it quickly. He flicks through to his clock app and notes that he set his alarm for eight in the evening instead of the morning.
He rolls his eyes.
He opens his text conversation with Maddie. He has two missed texts from her.
MADDIE ❤️
8:43 a.m.
Jee said she’s excited for Uncle Buck’s cake! See you soon!
11:30 a.m.
Evan, is everything okay? ❤️
Buck cringes. He hates to make her worry. It’s the last thing she needs when she’s got at least a dozen four-year-olds on their way to her home for Jee’s party.
BUCK
11:49 a.m.
Sorry :( I’m fine. Running late. I’ll be there ASAP!!!!
He shoves his phone into his pocket, kicks off his sweats, and grabs a fresh pair of jeans, a soft white shirt, and his dark brown and black striped jacket. There’s no time for a shower. He ducks into the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth, wincing when he catches his reflection.
His hair is a disaster—sticking out in every direction, flat in some spots and frizzy in others.
He fixes it as quickly as possible.
It’s not the best he’s ever looked, but it’ll do. He heads out of the ensuite.
He’s midway through tugging a sock on, the other resting loosely in his spare hand as he steps toward the staircase.
Oh.
He hears the waterfall sound again. Louder, closer.
He glances downward.
There’s at least four to five inches of water covering the floor of the lower level of his loft. His brain can’t process it for a second, his grip loosening even further on his sock until it drops onto the stairs, slipping between two of them and landing with a soft splashing noise beneath him.
Buck glances up at the roof, staring for a beat before letting out a long, exhausted exhale. He strips the one sock off and tucks it into his pocket, grabbing a spare one and shoving it in alongside the first. He jogs down the stairs, glancing around and — yeah, okay. His apartment is flooded.
The noise is louder now, clearly coming from the kitchen. As he wades through the water for a closer look, he finds the source: the pipe under the sink has burst. The cupboard door hangs open, and water has been pouring out—judging by the state of things—for hours. Maybe even all night. Buck leans down, pressing his forehead against the cool countertop for a beat to process the information.
Whatever. It’s fine.
He makes a quick call to his landlord, who advises that a plumber will be out within the next hour to fix the problem. Which, for his landlord, is actually a pretty decent solution. He’s surprised the guy doesn’t spend thirty minutes trying to pin this on Buck, finding some way that this mysterious burst pipe is entirely his fault. He counts it as a win.
He flicks the power to his fridge off to avoid any further damage, and with great difficulty, he gets the door open enough to pull the cake out and set it on the counter.
It looks like it’s in good condition; the white and purple unicorn perched on top is still glittery and intact. Buck exhales in relief.
Then, just past the cake in the distance, he spots Jee’s birthday gift, sodden and floating around in the water alongside some of Buck’s other loose, light belongings.
“No!” Buck groans, ducking around the counter and splashing through the water in large, bounding strides. He reaches the gift and snatches it up.
The box is soaked through.
Thankfully, he knows the contents are sealed in little plastic bags—but the box is ruined. The wrapping paper disintegrates in his hands, falling apart as he holds it.
Buck’s entire job is keeping a level head in an emergency. This is not the most traumatic thing he’s ever witnessed, but the events and problems keep piling, and he’s just a man, okay?
It’s fine. It’s okay.
He just has to make a game plan.
He’s got this. He will not be conquered by a missed alarm, a burst pipe or a ruined present.
He’s totally got this.
He’s not fully sure he’s got this.
It takes two slow, careful trips from his apartment to the Jeep to load everything in safely. Miraculously, all three tiers of the unicorn cake survive the journey completely unscathed.
He secures it in place, hands hovering nervously like the whole thing might topple the second he lets go of the base.
Knowing his day so far, it might.
Thankfully, it doesn’t.
Buck backs away slowly, closing the door before circling around to the back of the Jeep. He pulls out his shoes, slipping them on and tying the laces with clumsy fingers. His jeans are soaked at the hems, splattered with water up to his knees, but he figures he still looks decently presentable.
He checks the time. It’s already after midday. It’s fine, it’s a twenty-five-minute drive, and they won’t be cutting the cake till one at the earliest if Maddie sticks to the agenda they discussed.
His game plan is in effect. He will not be conquered by this shitty day.
Buck climbs into the driver's seat and turns the key, sighing with relief as the car kicks to life. It’s played up a few times recently, and the last thing he needs is for his car to act up.
He pulls out of the car park and flicks on the audiobook queued up on his phone. He’s halfway through A Book of Noises: Notes on the Auraculous by Caspar Henderson .
The voice kicks off right where he left off.
“Beautiful as human music inspired by birds can be, there is always a gap between them and us, because songbirds hear and process sound differently from humans…”
Buck zones out to it. His brain absorbs it as his gaze focuses on the road, following the familiar route to Maddie and Chimney’s house.
Fifteen or so minutes pass, and then, without warning, the car jolts—just a quick bounce, like he’s run over something. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror. Nothing behind him. No pothole, no debris.
He frowns but keeps driving, unaware he’s just run over multiple nails.
Beneath the gentle voice, Buck can hear a flapping noise as he continues driving. The noise is a little annoying, but surely it’s nothing, right?
After another minute, he notices the car starting to pull to one side as he goes forward. Fuck.
Look, he’s seen the aftermath of enough car crashes to know not to ignore the signs of not being fully in control of his vehicle. He flicks his turn signal on and pulls over to the side of the road.
Once Buck is out of the car, he rounds to the side where the car had been malfunctioning and spots his tire half-deflated.
Two large nails have punctured the sidewall of one of his tires and another in the tread. It’s losing air fast. There’s no way he can make it to Maddie’s on it.
As Buck crouches down to inspect it closer, he feels a droplet land on his cheek. Then another.
He looks up, clouds dark, grey and stormy above him. Suddenly, the sky starts sprinkling down on him. Within seconds, the sky opens up fully.
Rain pelts down fast.
Buck shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over his head, then drops onto the curb with a long, theatrical sigh.
His white shirt clings to him, already halfway see-through as the rain soaks through. He juts out his bottom lip, letting himself mope for a minute or two while the downpour soaks him completely.
The world is muted, drowned out by the steady drum of rain and the occasional whoosh of passing cars. Then headlights flash across him, and a sleek black truck pulls up to the curb. It's a nice car—insanely nice, judging by the brand. Expensive. Far more pricey than Buck’s second-hand Jeep.
The windows are tinted so dark, Buck can't make out the driver through the rain.
He would've liked a little warning, honestly, before the most beautiful man he’s ever seen steps out of the driver’s side.
Dark brown hair, almost black as it catches the rain. A dark, well-groomed moustache with no other hair on his cheeks or jaw. Soft, deep brown eyes that seem to look right through him. Tanned skin, and muscles that don’t look sculpted for show, but built from real, physical work—the kind of strength that lives in his arms, his shoulders.
Buck feels like two little cartoon hearts have formed in his eyes.
He finds his gaze drifting to the man’s waist as his shirt clings to him, it’s been immediately drenched as he steps toward where Buck is perched and moping. The curve of his waist makes Buck want to bite his own fist. Jesus Christ .
He doesn’t let it linger; he flicks it up to the man’s face quickly.
“Hey,” The man calls out, voice only slightly muffled by the pounding rain. “You need a hand?”
Oh my god. This man is like a knight in shining armour. He’s got no reason to help Buck. Frankly, he’s surprised anyone would be willing to stop in the rain to help him out. He’s been in this situation a dozen times before, many years ago, when his home was the four wheels of the Jeep and the open road.
No one ever helped. He’d always figured it out himself.
He smiles toward the man, pulling his jacket a little more over his head to shield his face from the rain. “Yeah, I, uh— my jack is back in my storage unit. My tire is popped. Do you— I can change it, if you’ve got one?”
The man's nose scrunches. It’s so cute. “Jesus, man. That sucks. Yeah, I’ve got one. Gimmie a second–”
Cute man turns on his heels, walking toward the back of his truck. Buck waits patiently, finally pushing himself back up to his feet. He drops the jacket onto the bonnet of his jeep, admitting defeat in regards to keeping himself any kind of dry.
When the guy comes back, he’s shrugged off his olive coloured jacket and is wearing a tight, navy shirt with a little LAFD logo over his pectoral.
“Hey! You’re a firefighter?” Buck asks, stepping toward the man and holding his hand out expectantly for the toolkit.
“Oh— yeah, just on my way home from work.” The guy answers, but doesn’t hand the box over; instead, he kneels next to the tire Buck is standing next to. “I got the tire. If you grab the spare, I’ll get this off for you.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry about—” Buck sighs, gesturing to his car. “I’m– me too. I’m a firefighter. Hopefully not a long shift?”
The guy laughs gently. “Coming off a twenty-four-hour shift from hell. But it’s okay. I don’t mind helping.”
Buck winces. The last thing this guy probably wants to be doing is kneeling in the rain and changing a tire after a long shift.
Buck realises that he has an assigned task to do in all of this after a beat and scrambles to grab the spare from the pack of his car. He pulls it out easily, grateful he’d eventually replaced it the last time he’d had an issue. It’d taken him like three months to finally get around to it.
He drops it to the floor, leaning it against the car door. Eddie’s already got the lug nuts loosened and has the jack in position. Buck watches as he jacks the car up till the tire is no longer in contact with the road.
Buck tries so hard not to focus on the way the guy's forearm and bicep flex as he works the tool.
“I’m uh—” Buck breaks the silence, glancing up as the rain starts to ease enough that he doesn’t have to raise his voice so much. “I’m Buck, by the way.”
The guy glances upward, a smile tugging at his lips. “Buck? Like the deer?”
“Buck like Buckley. My last name. It’s … my first name is Evan, but there were three in my class at the academy, y’know? So. Buck.”
Hot guy lifts his hand and holds it out for Buck to shake. “Eddie.”
Buck shakes it for what he thinks is a totally normal amount of time before dropping the hand. The warmth of Eddie’s skin lingers on his own.
“Thanks again. I’m headed to my niece's party. It’s her birthday. I’m–” He lifts his hand, glancing down at his watch. “Jesus, already like thirty minutes late. And I made the cake. And–” He leans his back against the car, grimacing. “And I-I kinda forgot to set my alarm and my apartment flooded, I just–”
He swallows thickly, sighing. “It’s kinda been a shit day. You’re saving my ass here.”
Eddie pauses unscrewing a lug nut to study Buck’s face. “It’s not a big deal, Buck. I promise.” A beat passes. “Hold your hand out for me?”
Buck complies instantly, palm held out and fingers flat. Eddie drops the first lug nut into it. Buck watches as he intently works, unscrewing each lug nut and depositing it into Buck’s hand. The motion is practised and done with ease.
His hands are so—Jesus Christ. He’s trying so hard not to check this guy out, but he’s so hot . His hands are so big, fingers long and thick. Buck has a couple of inches of height on him, but he’s sure that if they pressed their hands together, Buck’s own would come up a little shorter.
So, he’s ogling him. Just a tiny bit. Very respectfully, in his opinion. Eddie pulls the tire off, resting it against the curb.
“Your niece,” Eddie speaks up again, glancing toward Buck. “How old is she turning?”
“She’s turning four. Jee’s— she’s like a little ray of sunshine, y’know? My little baking buddy. She’s crazy, though. Maddie—my sister—says I was just as crazy when I was that age. I swear she’s got like … endless energy, man.”
Eddie nods, lining up the spare tire and mounting it onto the hub. “Yeah, they’re kinda like that at that age. It doesn’t run out till they’re grumpy teenagers.”
“God, I was such a dick when I was a teenager. Can’t wait to watch her grow up, though. She’s— I love her so much, you know? Baked a three-tier cake with a unicorn head on top just cause she batted her eyelashes at me.”
Eddie takes a nut from Buck’s hand, tightening it by hand. “Sounds like she’s already got you wrapped around her finger.”
Buck shrugs, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guilty as charged. I don’t mind, though. She’s worth it.”
The rain slows to a light drizzle, and Buck looks up, hopeful. “Think the storm’s letting up?”
Eddie glances up, hand still working to tighten another nut. He does it much quicker and easier than Buck would’ve; he’d need to pull up an instructional video on his phone and set it up on the curb. With Eddie’s help, he’s gonna be outta here in under five minutes flat.
“Looks like it,” Eddie answers.
By the time Buck glances down, Eddie is already lowering the car back down till the tire is just skimming the road. Buck sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, watching Eddie’s bicep bulge under his tight tee.
“You’re really good at this.”
Eddie looks over at him, looking a little surprised. “Oh, uh— yeah. I know a little about cars.”
“No, I mean, like—really quick,” Buck says, rubbing the back of his neck. The rain is barely a sprinkle anymore. Buck’s relieved, for the parties' sake more than his own. “Like, it’s impressive. I’d probably still be out here wrestling with the spare if you weren’t around. You’re like my knight in shining armour.”
Eddie grins, ducking his head as he lifts the wrench to tighten the last lug. “Well, lucky you then.”
Buck thinks he spots pink blooming across Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie slaps the tire once with his hand, lifting from his crouch to stare down at the successfully replaced tire.
“Good as new.” Eddie turns to him, a grin tugging on his lips. A single lock of hair is stuck to his damp forehead.
Buck nods a little dumbly. “Yeah, uh—” He swallows, glancing down at his watch. Fuck . “I gotta—thank you so much. Seriously. I gotta go. The—the cake, you know?”
Eddie lifts a hand, tapping Buck’s arm before leaning down, collecting his tool kit. “You’re all good, Buck. Take care, okay? Hope your day gets better.”
Buck tosses the busted tire into his boot and climbs into the car. He turns, buckles in, then turns the key and—
And he turns the key.
Again.
The car makes a weird clicking noise, but doesn’t start.
He keeps trying. Twice more. The car doesn’t budge. Buck’s head drops, forehead thudding against the wheel. He groans loudly.
When he tugs on the handle and pops the car door open again, the sky is clear and blue. And Eddie is standing there still, an amused smile on his face. “Not your day, huh, bud?”
Buck pouts at him.
“C’mon, pop the hood. I’ll take a look for you. I just gotta make a quick call first, okay?”
Oh. He’s— he’s still helping?
Buck’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No, come on, it’s okay. I’m sure you wanna get home to bed. I’ll just–” He tugs his phone out from the centre console, tapping the screen.
The little no battery logo pops up.
Buck’s bottom lip juts out further. “It’s dead.”
He glances back, up at Eddie, whose hand is over his mouth, muffling a laugh. “I’m not— I’m not laughing. Just— your face, man. You look like a kicked puppy. C’mon,” He steps closer, running a hand through his damp hair. “Pop it open. I’ll see what I can do.”
Buck hesitates, but nods. He pops the hood.
Eddie pulls out his phone, tapping a few times, then holds it up to his ear. “Hey, Karen. Sorry, I know you’re already doing me a massive favour by watching Chris, but— I’m helping someone out. Flat tire. I’ll be a little later than expected. Is that alright?”
Eddie pauses, listening to the response Buck assumes.
“Thanks, seriously. He’s okay, right?” Another pause. “Okay, okay. Thank you. He’s got his pain meds, yeah? Yeah— alright, alright. Appreciate it. I owe you one. Yeah, I got this. Thanks again. See you soon.”
He hangs up, and Buck tries to look busy, like he wasn’t listening.
“You—uh, you have a kid?”
Eddie smiles. “Yeah, Christopher. He’s fourteen.” He tucks his phone away. “I’m all he’s got.”
“I love kids,” Buck says, moving around and locking the hood open.
“I love this one,” Eddie says, following him round. He fumbles and tugs his wallet out, flipping it open. There’s a little picture tucked in there of Eddie and a young kid who looks around seven.
It shows Eddie with a young kid, maybe seven years old, curly dirty blonde hair, glasses, and a turnout jacket. Eddie’s sitting on the back of a truck beside him, grinning widely. He looks younger there—light stubble instead of the moustache he’s got now, and more gel in his hair than Buck’s seen today, rain aside. Buck wonders how much the storm’s messed with Eddie’s hair now. He looks better like this, his hair already dying a little, gently mussed from his fingers working through it.
“He’s adorable,” Buck says, glancing down at the photo, not quite sure what he’s looking for. “His dad’s pretty cute, too.”
When he looks back up, Eddie’s cheeks are tinged pink.
Buck clears his throat, ready to brush it off when Eddie doesn’t say anything. “Sorry, uh–”
Eddie shakes his head, stepping beside Buck and pulling out his own phone, turning the flashlight on.
“No, it’s okay. I—” He swallows, and Buck watches his throat move. “Thanks. From both of us. Can you—hold this?”
He holds the phone out toward Buck. Buck takes it, aiming the light toward the engine. It’s not a rejection, but Buck senses Eddie’s shyness, or maybe it’s just nerves.
Without thinking, Buck steps a little closer than necessary.
Eddie’s eyes flicker to Buck’s chest, where his wet shirt clings, far more see-through than Eddie’s.
Buck bites back a grin.
After a beat, Eddie realises he’s been caught staring and darts his gaze toward the car again, leaning down and poking around in it. Buck’s got no idea what he’s looking for.
“Everything looks pretty alright in general, I think. When you started your car, your lights were real dim and it made the—” Eddie makes a couple of gentle clicking noises, similar to the ones Buck’s car had. “Think it’s your battery. You got jumper cables?”
Buck looks apologetic.
“I’ll take that as a no. It’s okay, I’ve got a set in my truck. I’ll move it around and jump you. Then you should be all good for cake delivery.”
Eddie jogs toward his car.
Buck, maybe, just maybe, watches him leave. He tilts his head, eyes tracing the curve of Eddie’s ass before Eddie rounds the back of his truck.
Eddie pulls the cables out and jumps back into his truck. He does a lap of the block and parks infront of Buck’s car.
The door flings open, and Eddie jumps back out, cables in hand. “Alright, jump in and I’ll tell you when to start it, okay?”
Buck nods, eyes lingering on the way Eddie’s thick fingers curl around the cable. Eddie sets the cars up, and then they both jump into their respective vehicles.
Despite the tint, Buck can see Eddie’s face through the glass.
Through the windshield, Buck catches Eddie’s eyes—dark, intense, locking onto his. “Alright, Buck,” Eddie calls out. “Start her up.”
Buck’s hand tightens on the key. He turns it once, and it just clicks again. He sighs, turning it once more time and this time—the engine stirs and rumbles to life.
The same quiet, electric hum connecting their cars feels like it’s pulsing between the two of them as their eyes meet again.
Eddie’s grinning at him. Buck wants to kiss him.
Jesus Christ. It’s been a long time since someone’s caught his attention like this; he’s not been with anyone since Natalia, and their chemistry was different, based on an experience he’d suffered rather than a genuine, easy spark between the two of them.
He feels at ease around Eddie.
Buck jumps out of the car at the same time Eddie does. They’re weirdly insync.
“All you do is save the day, huh?” Buck says as they meet in the middle.
“It’s part of the job,” Eddie replies, shrugging a shoulder. Then, he pauses, glancing down at Buck’s soaked shirt.
“Man, you cannot go like that to the party. One second, just—” Eddie holds up a finger, darting back to his car and grabbing out a soft, white Henley. He tries to hand it to Buck.
Buck shakes his head. “Come on, I can’t take it. You’ve already done so much—”
Eddie pushes it against his chest. “It’s Jee’s birthday. You can’t show up like that. As nice as the view is, it’s a little— y’know.” Eddie’s blushing even as he says it.
Buck takes the shirt. How could he not?
He tugs his soaked one off and rests it over the hood. He tugs on Eddie’s shirt. It’s soft, well-worn in and fits a little tightly over his shoulder and biceps. It’s not too bad, though; it must be a little loose on Eddie.
Eddie is blushing deeply when Buck catches his eye again. He’s got the cables undone, resting in his strong grip.
“Okay, I– thank you. Seriously. I’ll— return it?” Buck’s already stepping away.
It’s definitely almost cake time, and he does not want to disappoint Jee. Not on her birthday .
“If you really wanna return it, I’m with the 133,” Eddie calls out as Buck climbs into his car.
Eddie’s already heading for his own, slipping into the driver’s seat. Buck hears the ding of Eddie’s phone as the door shuts behind him.
That’s when it hits him—he didn’t get Eddie’s number.
“Shit,” Buck mutters, watching helplessly as Eddie starts the engine and pulls away.
Buck pulls up at one o’clock on the dot. He scrambles out of the car, leaves the gift box inside the car—he’ll get it later—and grabs the cake.
Balancing it as best he can, he hurries inside. The unicorn’s icing looks worse for wear compared to when he left his apartment, but there’s no saving it now. He slips into the kitchen and sets it gently on the counter.
Maddie appears almost instantly.
“Oh my god, I thought you were dead in a ditch, Evan,” she says, flicking his bicep. “Where have you …”
She trails off, eyeing his soaked jeans and damp, half-dried hair.
“Okay, I’m not even gonna ask. Thank you for the cake, your lovely gremlin of a niece is—”
Before she can finish, Jee barrels into view from behind her, sprinting full-force toward them with a wide grin. She’s wearing a soft purple dress topped with a glittery tutu, a butterfly painted across her right cheek.
“Jee!” Buck shouts, crouching down and holding his arms out. She runs straight to him and he scoops her up, resting her on his hip. “I got your cake. Sorry, it’s late. My chariot broke down bringing the cake to you, your highness.”
Jee giggles, pulling the crown off her head and placing it on Buck’s. It sits crooked, nestled in his curls.
“It’s okay! My friends are here,” she says, pointing toward the back door. “Okay, you gotta put me down now. It’s painting time.”
He feels a little offended. He only just picked her up. He sets her down gently and watches as she skitters away.
“Alright, come on. Party time.” Maddie says, nudging him gently. “I’ll get the candles ready.”
Buck takes the hint and heads through the door—only to nearly collide with a kid on crutches as he closes the door behind himself, the kid’s messy dark blonde hair falling into his eyes. They both stumble, but Buck reacts fast, grabbing the kid’s bicep before he can fall.
He doesn’t recognise him, not really, but he strikes Buck as familiar anyway.
“Sorry, sorry—” Buck says quickly, steadying him before letting go.
The kid shrugs, adjusting his grip on the crutches. “It’s okay. Wasn’t your fault.”
Buck glances down at his shirt and brightens.
“Hey! Sick Ankylosaurus shirt!”
The kid smiles now, glancing down at his own tee before looking back up at Buck. “Yeah, it’s my second favourite dinosaur. My first favourite is the Pachycephalosaurus.”
He pauses then, glancing at Buck’s shirt. “My dad has that shirt. Weird.”
Buck’s brows raise. “Really? That’s—”
Someone enters behind him. Buck turns as the door clicks closed.
Oh. That’s—
“Hey, dad.”
Oh .
Eddie’s looking a little dryer now. He’s wearing a fresh, slightly older looking LAFD t-shirt. His hair looks like it’s been towel-dried in a rush, still damp and falling into his eyes. Buck fights the urge to reach out and brush it back.
Eddie glances rapidly between Buck and Christopher, then pushes the hair out of his face himself. His lips are parted in surprise, but there’s no trace of upset in his expression.
“Hey, buddy, can you go tell Karen and Hen I’m here? Grab your stuff?” he asks, turning to Christopher.
The kid— Christopher —squints at his dad, then glances between the two of them, eyes lingering on Buck’s shirt.
“...Okay.” He says slowly, and then walks away.
Christopher makes his way toward where Hen, Karen and Denny are chatting next to a table covered in bowls of snacks.
“Hey, I–” Buck starts, but is cut off as he watches Eddie dig into his pocket. His hand returns holding a Sharpie. He reaches forward, grabbing Buck’s wrist and extending his arm out. He scribbles a phone number down onto it, then, underneath, a little Eddie .
“You should call me. If you, uh—” Eddie fumbles over his words, fingers tightening on the marker. “If you want.”
He shakes his head, correcting himself. “No, I … call me. I want you to call me.”
Buck can’t help the grin that stretches across his face. He nods, a little dumbly, and takes the pen from Eddie’s hand. Eddie blinks in surprise as Buck gently grabs his wrist this time, turning it over and scribbling his number there. He writes his name underneath with a little heart beside it.
“Okay,” Buck agrees. It might be the easiest thing he’s ever agreed to.
“Buckaroo! You’re finally here!” A voice calls out from Buck’s left. He doesn’t need to look to know it’s Chimney. “With—”
“ Eddie ?” Albert’s voice follows. He sounds just as confused as Chimney.
Buck doesn’t look away. Can’t bring himself to. Not when Eddie is looking at him. He just lifts his hand in a vague wave in their direction. Eddie does the same, eyes still fixed on Buck before he glances down at the number now inked into his skin, smiling down at it.
Chris reappears beside them. “Okay, good to go.”
Eddie turns to him and nods. He pulls his keys out of his pocket and hands them over to him. Chris takes them, sliding them into his pocket before curling his hand back around his crutch.
“Meet you at the car, okay?” Eddie says to Chris before turning back to Buck. “I gotta go. I’ll– yeah.”
He starts to step away, but Buck reaches out, catching his wrist.
Eddie turns, eyes flicking down to where Buck’s fingers wrap around him.
“Go on a date with me?” Buck asks.
Eddie’s eyes widen slightly.
In his peripheral, Buck can see Hen and Karen have approached and are looking somewhere between pleased and endlessly amused.
Eddie offers them a glance before he turns back to Buck, their eyes locking intently. “Yeah. Text me a date and time you’re free and I’ll get a sitter.”
From somewhere nearby, just tucked into the house, Christopher’s voice call out, “I don’t need a sitter, Dad!”
Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes fondly.
“Okay,” Buck agrees with a quiet laugh, still holding onto Eddie’s wrist. His thumb smoothing once over the skin there, grip finally loosening. “I’ll text you.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, not pulling his wrist away.
“Okay.”
“Dad!” Chris calls again, more insistent and impatient this time.
Eddie finally eases out of Buck’s grasp. “Okay, I really gotta go. He’s tired.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Eddie nods once more, turning and heading through the door.
Buck’s eyes drop down to watch as he leaves. Again, maybe, just maybe, he watches his ass as he goes. It’s not his fault. It’s like a magnet, okay? It draws his attention in.
A hand smacks his bicep. Buck turns to find Hen raising a brow at him.
He shoots her a boyish grin.
Karen tilts her head, an amused smile settles on her face. “So, you met Eddie, huh?”