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“No, I’m fine,” Eddie assures his Tía, his cell phone pinned between his shoulder and his cheek. “I promise. The truck is just – out of commission for the moment. Honestly, it would’ve probably been drivable if the highway weren’t completely blocked.”
Pepa makes an indistinct sound of concern. “You’re certain that you’re alright?”
“I promise,” Eddie repeats. “I just need a ride home.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” says Pepa, “traffic permitting. Try not to get into any more trouble before I get there.”
“I’m gonna take a seat in the waiting room,” Eddie says. “As long as nobody plows a car through the wall, I have a feeling I’m going to be fine.”
Pepa hums. “Take care.”
“Drive safe,” says Eddie.
He does sit down, finding a nice, quiet corner to wait for his ride home. All things considered, Eddie got very, very lucky today. He was caught up in a massive pileup on the highway on his way to pick Chris up from Abuela’s house, far enough back from the initial crash that he was more rattled than injured and the truck is more battered than broken.
(He is a little bit injured, but embarrassingly it’s because he rolled his ankle in his haste to get out of the car and try to help other people. He’s only even here because one of the paramedics thought he should get it checked out just in case.)
There’s another guy about his age nearby, pacing in firefighter turnouts. He’s stopped, twice, to talk to another firefighter who was sitting near the door, but she got up and left the room after the last time and the guy is still pacing. His jacket says BUCKLEY.
“Hey, man,” Eddie says, the next time Buckley passes him. “Are you –“
“Sorry!” Buckley says. “Sorry, I told my friend I’d stop, I’m just – sorry, I know the pacing is annoying.”
“No, no worries,” says Eddie. He holds his hands up in what he hopes is a calm, nonthreatening way. Buckley has a kind of spooked horse energy that Eddie doesn’t want to startle. “I was just going to ask if you’re okay. You seem kind of tense.”
“I’m fine,” Buckley replies, a little too quickly. “I’m – you hear about that pileup?”
“I was in it,” Eddie admits.
Buckley’s eyes flick over him, likely looking for signs of injury. Eddie waves him off.
“I’m fine, I was way back,” he says. “Worst I got was rolling my ankle because I got out of the car too fast. I’m in the firefighting academy and a former army medic, so I had big ideas about being helpful.”
Buckley lets out a laugh that only sounds a little pained. “You know, they don’t let you graduate the academy if you can’t get out of a vehicle in a crisis. It’s kind of our whole thing.”
“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t,” says Eddie.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” says Buckley. His smile fades. “Our teammate was in the crash. He was off duty, on his way home from the station, and got, uh, impaled by some poorly secured cargo from the truck that hit him.”
“Shit,” Eddie breathes.
“Yeah,” says Buckley. “He was awake and talking when we got there, but – it was bad. We’ve gotta get back to the station soon, but, uh, it’s hard to leave, you know? ‘Specially when we don’t really know what’s happening, still. If he’ll be okay.”
“I bet,” says Eddie.
“I’m sorry, that’s probably heavier than you expected,” Buckley says.
Eddie doesn’t know what he expected, actually. He shrugs. “Pacing like that in a hospital waiting room isn’t usually a good sign. You seemed like you needed to get it out.”
“Yeah,” says Buckley. “I think my friend was about ready to impale me over the pacing, so you’re probably right.”
“You want to sit?” Eddie offers.
“Sure,” Buckley says. He flops into the seat next to Eddie. “You waiting on news, too?”
“No, thank God,” says Eddie. “My son wasn’t in the car with me. I’m just waiting on a ride home, since my car is still –“ he waves vaguely in the direction of the pileup.
“You’ve got a kid?” says Buckley. Eddie braces for the judgement that usually comes with that, the aren’t you a little young, but Buckley just lights up. “I love kids.”
“I love this one,” says Eddie. He pulls his phone out, tapping the screen to show off his lock screen, a recent picture of himself and Chris in front of the new house. “It’s just the two of us, so I really am lucky this crash wasn’t worse, and that he wasn’t in the car.”
“Definitely,” Buckley says. He straightens slightly. “Wait, oh my God. I’m Buck, by the way. I can’t believe I dumped all that on you and I never told you my name.”
“Your jacket says Buckley,” Eddie points out. “So, I did have a head start. I’m Eddie.”
Buck bumps their shoulders together in place of a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Eddie.”
“You too, Buck,” says Eddie. “Despite the circumstances.”
“Yeah,” says Buck. His gaze drifts over toward the door his friend had left through.
“Hey. I hope you’re friend is alright,” Eddie offers.
“Me too, man,” Buck says. “I don’t – I don’t really know what we’ll do if he doesn’t make it, you know? We’re not even that close and it feels like –“ he shakes his head. “I’ve gotta believe he’ll be okay. At least for now.”
Eddie nods. He knows that feeling.
Their conversation slides toward easier topics after that. How Buck likes firefighting, how Eddie’s doing at the academy. Eddie’s move and Buck’s – extensive – travels.
Eddie is almost startled when his phone lights up with a text. It’s Pepa, saying she’s about to pull up.
“My ride is here,” says Eddie.
“Oh,” says Buck.
“Do you have your phone with you?” Eddie says, before his mental filter can override it.
“Uh, yeah?” Buck says. He digs it out of a pocket.
Eddie opens his hand. “Let me give you my number. You can tell me how things go with your friend, okay? And, uh, that you got home safe. Just for my peace of mind.”
“Sure, yeah,” says Buck. “As long as you let me know when you’re home safe. You never know how the traffic will go around here, apparently.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, “for sure.”
“And you can keep me updated about the academy!” Buck says, a little brighter. He falters. “I mean, if you want. To stay in touch.”
“Yeah, man, that sounds great,” Eddie says, and he means it. “I don’t know many people in LA yet. Situation sucks, but you seem really cool.”
Buck lights up. Eddie tries not to get too distracted by it as he types his phone number into Buck’s contacts. On impulse, he takes a selfie to attach to the contact as well. He makes a face that’s a little bit goofy, because that’s just what you do when you’re taking a selfie on another person’s phone.
“Eddie from the hospital,” Buck reads as he takes the phone back. “Creative. Clear. No last name.”
Eddie winks. “Last name’s more of a second date kind of thing, don’t you think?”
Buck laughs. “You know mine!”
“But unless you have wildly uncreative parents, I don’t know your first,” Eddie points out. “I think that’s a fair trade.”
His phone buzzes again, Pepa letting him know she’s waiting.
“I really have to go,” Eddie says. “Text me, okay? So I know you haven’t died in a fiery car crash of your own.”
“I will,” Buck promises.
As Eddie leaves, Buck’s friend from earlier reappears, this time accompanied by another firefighter, a man maybe in his fifties, and the two of them pass Eddie in Buck’s direction. Eddie feels a little better about leaving Buck behind, now that he’s not going to be alone. The guy seems really fucking rattled by showing up to a scene and finding his friend in that state, which is understandable, but Eddie’s kind of gotten himself invested in Buck being okay. He didn’t mean to, but he did.
Maybe he’ll come out of this with a friend, though. That might be worth the shitshow that was this evening prior to meeting Buck.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Tía,” Eddie says as he climbs into the car. “I got caught up talking to somebody.”
“At the hospital?” Pepa says, raising an eyebrow.
“There are people there,” says Eddie. “He was waiting on news about a friend; we got to talking. I honestly lost track of time. Stopped to exchange numbers before I left.”
Pepa shoots a sidelong glance at Eddie across the car. “Really?”
“He’s a firefighter,” Eddie says. “And I don’t really know many people in LA yet, so –“
“It’s good that you’re starting to make connections,” Pepa says. There’s something else in her tone tht Eddie can’t read.
His phone dings with a text from a number he doesn’t recognize.
Heading back to the station now, and getting a ride home from a friend. Thanks for the company tonight. My first name is Evan, btw. Since you were wondering.
Eddie laughs. He texts back, You’re still not getting my last name ‘till that second date.
“Your firefighter friend?” Pepa says.
“Yeah,” Eddie says. He sets his phone in his lap. “I’ve got a really good feeling about him.”
--
Buck honestly doesn’t expect Eddie No-Last-Name to stay in touch, even though it was his idea. He figured they’d text that evening, an extension of their conversation in the waiting room, and then it would peter off, probably after Buck updated him on the long-term outlook for Chim.
But then they just… keep texting. Buck has never hit it off with somebody the way he has with Eddie.
He thinks Eddie might be lonely, even though he’d never admit it. He and his kid just moved to LA from El Paso, Texas, to be closer to his aunt and grandmother and to pursue some new opportunities. Buck hasn’t asked for details about what they were leaving behind; he knows what it’s like to not want to look back. But because he’s new in town, working and attending the academy at the same time, he hasn’t made many connections around here, yet.
Buck hasn’t, either, is the thing. Sure, he has the guys he lives with, but he’s not really close with any of them. He’s starting to settle in with his team at the 118, but they’re still getting to know each other. He’s starting to get to know Abby, the dispatcher he’s been talking to, too, but that’s an even newer relationship.
Buck knows people, but he’s still lonely.
(He’s always been lonely.)
Anyway.
It’s afternoon, almost two weeks out from Chim’s accident, and Buck and Eddie are still trying to make that metaphorical second date work out. It’s hard to hang out, though, when one of you is has work on a kind of intense schedule, and the other has work on a more normal schedule juggled with the academy and his son’s schedule, as well. Finding a time when they’re both off and Eddie can find somebody willing to sit for his son is tough, especially since Eddie considers that time with Christopher precious above all else.
You know, there’s a pretty cool traveling exhibit at the science museum right now, Buck finds himself saying. I’ve been meaning to check it out. Is that something you might want to bring Christopher along for? Might be easier than finding a sitter.
Eddie’s answer is almost immediate. I can’t ask that of you.
What? Buck replies. You can’t ask me to do something cool that I wanted to do anyway, that happens to be kid-appropriate? Anyway, with a dad like you, Christopher’s got to be a pretty cool kid.
Are you sure? Eddie says. I can find a sitter, we can go to a bar or something. It’s really fine.
I was going to go to the museum anyway, Buck insists. It’ll definitely be more fun with friends.
He doesn’t see Eddie’s response, though, because they get called out right after.
It’s a hell of a call. A plane crashed just off of the beach, and there’s debris and chaos all across the beach and into the water. It’s the worst emergency Buck has seen yet as a firefighter, and he hopes to whatever guiding force there is in the universe – God or Fate or whoever – that it’s the worst he ever sees.
They pull out more survivors than Buck feels like he could’ve dared hope they might, when they first pulled up. They lose people anyway.
Bobby stays back in the sinking fuselage, trying to free a young mother who’s been pinned between two seats in the crash. Buck wants to stay, wants to help, but Bobby entrusts him with her son and swears they’ll be right behind.
Buck stands with the wailing child on the beach and waits. And waits. And waits.
And then takes off back toward the plane, knowing with bone-deep certainty that if he doesn’t go, something terrible will happen. He makes it just in time to help Bobby save the mom, and waits to make sure he sees Bobby leave the plane before he makes for shore himself.
He gets back to the station bedraggled, exhausted, and wrung out. When he gets to his phone, tossed haphazardly into his locker, he sees that he has about a dozen texts from Eddie.
Alright, if you’re sure.
Saturday work for you?
Buck?
You are sure, right?
Right, you’re at work. I assume you got called out. Talk to you later!
Shit, are you at this plane crash? It looks like there are a ton of stations there.
I saw engine 118 at the crash site on the news. Hope you’re safe.
Jesus fuck Buck I hope you had a good reason for haring back off into the water
Text me when you get back to the station
He’s also got a single missed call from Abby, no voicemail. He decides to respond to Eddie first.
Hey sorry yeah we were at the crash
obviously
Saturday sounds great though!
His phone starts ringing immediately.
“No shit you were at the crash,” Eddie says instead of hello. “I was watching the news, man. Are you okay? Is your team okay?”
“Yeah,” says Buck. “Yeah, we’re all good. We’re all pretty fuckin’ wiped, but we’re good. It was a close call with Cap, he was, uh, he was trying to help this mom who was pinned and they almost didn’t make it out. But everybody’s good. Mom made it, even.”
“That’s why you went back in, at the end?” says Eddie.
“Man, how do you even know that?” says Buck.
“I was watching the news,” Eddie reminds him. “And you’re labeled.”
“Oh,” says Buck. “Well, yeah. That’s why.”
“But he’s okay? And you are?”
“I’m fine, man,” Buck replies. “We’re all fine. I swear.”
“Good,” says Eddie. “Are y’all done with your shift now, or are you still on the clock?”
Buck checks the time. “We’ve still got a few hours. Why are you even awake? It’s the middle of the night.”
“There was a plane crash last night, you might have heard about it?” Eddie says drily. “Turns out my friend was there helping with the rescue, so I was invested. Couldn’t get myself to turn off the news.”
“Well, we’re back to the station now, and everything’s good,” says Buck. “So you should maybe go to sleep.”
“I plan to,” says Eddie. “I just – wanted to check in.”
“It’s nice to have somebody care if I live or die again,” Buck says. It’s maybe a little too honest, but sue him, it’s three in the morning and his friend followed the news and stayed up until he heard from him. It’s been a rough fucking night, and his filter’s already clocked out.
“Buck.”
“I mean it,” says Buck. “Thanks, Eddie.”
“Jeez, man, your standards are low,” Eddie says, low, more to himself than to Buck. “That’s, like, the bare minimum of what friends are for.”
Buck can’t help a soft laugh. “If you say so, Ed.”
“I do. Okay, I’m gonna let you go, have a good rest of your shift,” says Eddie.
“Sleep well,” says Buck.
“Call me if you’re too tired to drive in the morning, okay? I can give you a ride.”
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“You can and you will. Failing that, see you Saturday?”
“See you Saturday. Good night.”
Hen is watching as he stows his phone.
“Was that what’s-her-name?” Hen says.
“What?” says Buck, brow furrowed.
“On the phone. Was that your dispatcher? Gabby?” says Hen.
“Abby,” says Buck. “And no, it was my friend, Eddie.”
Hen hums. “Kind of late for a call from a friend.”
“He saw we were at the crash,” says Buck. “Wanted to make sure we were all okay, since it was pretty intense.”
“Seems like a good friend,” says Hen.
“He is,” Buck says, and he means it even though they haven’t known each other long yet. “I’m lucky I met him.”
Hen hums, but doesn’t say anything else.
They don’t get any more calls that night, friendly or professional.
--
Eddie is, admittedly, a little nervous about hanging out with Buck. They’ve been getting along great over text, obviously, but that’s not always easy to translate into real life. Plus, Chris is going to be with them.
Buck can say all he wants that he likes kids, that he’s willing to have Chris along if it’s easier on Eddie, but he’s still a guy in his mid twenties, and Eddie really wouldn’t blame him for getting bored with moving at a kid’s pace and answering Chris’s thousands of questions. Eddie would never get bored with him, but Eddie is Chris’s dad. Buck is just some guy.
But that’s Eddie being pessimistic. Buck doesn’t seem like the kind of person to say stuff he doesn’t mean, he comes off as almost painfully earnest. Maybe that means he’s a very good liar, but Eddie doesn’t think so.
Still, they plan to meet at the museum, just in case one of them has to leave for any reason.
Eddie shouldn’t have worried.
Buck, despite the heaviness to his shoulders and the bags under his eyes, lights up when he sees Eddie and Christopher in the museum lobby.
“Eddie!” he says, bounding over. “Oh, and you must be Christopher!”
Christopher, tucked a little shily against Eddie’s leg, grins. “Hi.”
“I’m Buck,” Buck says. He crouches down to meet Chris’s eye, and holds out a hand seriously for him to shake.
“That’s a funny name,” Chris says.
“That’s not very nice to say to someone,” Eddie says gently.
Buck waves it off. “I don’t mind. It is kind of funny, isn’t it? Buck is actually my nickname. It’s short for Buckley, which is my last name.”
“Like how Dad calls me Chris, sometimes,” says Christopher.
“Yeah, exactly!” says Buck. “Just like that.”
“Do you have another name?” Chris asks.
“A first name?” Buck asks in return, clarifying. Christopher nods. “Yeah, I do! It’s Evan. But nobody really calls me that anymore, because I like Buck better.”
“Okay,” says Christopher. “It’s nice to meet you, Buck.”
“You too, Christopher!” Buck says so, so sincerely.
And then they’re off. Buck has been to this museum before – he was not kidding about being into the museum thing – but the exhibition they’re visiting for is new, to him and to the museum. He’s really engaged both with the exhibits they’re walking through, and with Eddie and Chris. He seems genuinely interested in sharing the whole experience with them, and he’s great with Christopher, excitedly but patiently explaining things and pointing them out, never talking down to him but keeping things on a level he’ll understand.
If Eddie were single – or interested in men – he’d be halfway in love with the guy already.
As it is, he’s grateful to have made a friend like Buck.
Eddie isn’t much of a museum guy himself, but he finds he’s having a lot of fun watching Buck and Chris experience it all.
Which isn’t to say that they’re ignoring him! Buck is flitting around the two Diazes in a constant blur of motion and commentary, keeping up a steady stream of adult conversation with Eddie all without missing a beat in the conversation they’re having with Chris, too. Eddie barely knows what to do with it.
The longer he talks to Buck, over text and in person, the more of him comes spilling out. It’s been ages since he had someone his own age to talk to, a peer, a friend – he hasn’t connected with anyone at the academy, hasn’t talked to any of his friends from the army since he was discharged, and of the only two high school friends who didn’t disappear when Shan got pregnant… well, one of them was Shannon herself, who hasn’t spoken to him since she left, and the other he left behind when he left El Paso.
Eddie feels younger than he has maybe since Chris was born. It’s like having a friend, a real one, has given him permission to remember that he’s twenty-five and allowed to have fun, to smile at things that aren’t his kid. And all without having to step away from Chris to do it. He never would – could – have expected that.
Especially not as an outcome to getting caught up in a massive car crash. You never know what’ll happen, Eddie supposes.
The point is, he’s walking side-by-side with Buck through the museum, their shoulders bumping from time to time, and he’s having fun. And Christopher is definitely also having fun, more fun than he probably would’ve had with Eddie left to interpret all of this for him on his own.
So it’s honestly, genuinely disappointing when, midway through the afternoon, Buck gets a text that makes him go, “Sh-shoot, I’ve got to go.”
“What’s up?” Eddie says, his voice low.
“My – uh, the person I’ve been talking to,” Buck says, “Abby, she’s her mother’s primary caretaker, and she just sent –“
He fumbles his phone around, showing Eddie the text he’d just received. A call for help, with a description of Abby’s mother and an area she’d last been seen. Because she’s missing.
“I gotta go,” Buck says again, quieter. “I’m really sorry, I’m having such a great time with you guys, but Abby’s probably freaking out, and –“
“Buck,” Eddie cuts in. “Go. You don’t need to apologize, man, I understand. Your girlfriend’s mom is missing, that’s – that’s a totally legitimate reason to leave.”
“She’s not – I mean, we haven’t – I’ve actually never met her in person?” Buck says. “We’ve been trying to take it slow.”
“You should still go,” Eddie says. “You and I can hang out another time.”
“Yeah?” Buck says, wide-eyed.
“Of course,” says Eddie. “I’m having a great time, too.”
“Okay,” says Buck. “Great! Okay. Let me go say goodbye to Christopher.”
“Yeah, go for it,” Eddie says.
Buck darts forward, dropping easily onto one knee next to Chris, who’s been slowly working through reading an informational sign on his own, mindful of his crutches.
“Hey, buddy, I’ve got to go,” Buck says.
“No!” Chris groans. “Aren’t you having fun?”
“I am,” Buck assures him. “I’m having so much fun. But my friend is having an emergency, and I have to go help her. But I have had a blast with you and your dad today, and maybe we can come back and do the rest of the museum another time?”
“Can we?” Christopher says, turning back toward Eddie.
“I think we can make that happen,” says Eddie.
“Great,” Buck says, so, so sincerely. He offers Chris a high five before he gets up and bounds back over to Eddie. He throws his arms around Eddie in a brief, but enthusiastic hug. “Okay. I’m going. Sorry for cutting the day short.”
“No worries, Buck, I mean it,” Eddie says. “Let me know if y’all need any help, okay?”
Buck nods. “Thanks.”
Eddie and Chris continue to wander the museum for a while, and it’s still fun, but it’s different. They stop for ice cream on the way home, which is a mess but a good one.
Eddie texts Buck, midafternoon.
Diaz, btw. Since you never bothered to ask.
I was serious before, if you need help let me know.
Buck doesn’t reply until much, much later, after Chris is tucked into bed.
Hey, thanks. Abby and I were driving when you texted, and we’d already called in the cavalry, but she appreciated the offer.
Somebody found Patricia, and she’s home safe again now.
The third text comes in a beat after the other two, which arrived in very quick succession.
I figured I probably had to wait for the third date for that last name, since I ran out on you.
Eddie laughs, a little too loudly for the quiet house and the sleeping kindergartner in the next room.
I think you earned it. I haven’t had that much fun at a museum since I was a kid.
He can almost see the way Buck’s lit up, when the response of Really? Heck yeah! comes in. He stays up texting Buck well into the night, much later than he should. It’s easy to get lost in it. Easy to let himself have fun and joke around and occasionally let sincerity slip through without any embarrassment.
We should hang out again soon, Eddie says, before self-consciousness can stop him from hitting send.
Hell yeah we should, Buck replies, right away.
--
“Is it too soon to ask what the deal is with Abby?” Eddie says, flopping onto his couch next to Buck and handing him a beer. It’s midafternoon, but this is when they were both available.
“What about her?” says Buck.
“You’ve been talking to her,” Eddie says, with heavily exaggerated air quotes, “longer than you’ve known me, right? But you’ve only met in person the one time? What’s that about, man?”
“Ah, yeah, okay,” Buck says. “No, I can see why that’s. I get that.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Eddie says quickly.
Buck rubs the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. “No, it’s just – I mean, it’s a little embarrassing. I used to be a big, uh, hookup kind of guy? Like, when I was travelling and shit. But I really like Abby, and I don’t want to ruin it by falling into bed with her too soon, you know?”
“I really can’t say that I do,” says Eddie.
“Wait, really?” Buck says. “That’s never happened to you?”
Eddie throws Buck an unimpressed look, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Christopher’s bedroom down the hall. “When would I have had time?”
“Okay, wait, can I ask what happened with Chris’s mom?” Buck asks.
Eddie holds up one finger. “Your thing first. You really didn’t think you could go on a single date without sleeping with this woman?”
“I’ve never dated, really,” Buck admits. “I mean, I ‘dated,’” he sketches loose air quotes around it, “you know, the way you do when you’re a kid, but not – not serious adult relationship shit. I’m honestly terrified of all the ways I could mess this up.”
“Well, being serious about it probably makes more of a difference than avoiding seeing her in person,” Eddie says reasonably. “Deciding to treat this like a relationship instead of a hookup is probably the important part.” He shrugs. “The fear, you might just have to work through.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” says Buck.
“I don’t know, either,” Eddie says, soft.
“Tell me about Chris’s mom,” Buck says. It comes out gentle, clearly a request and not a demand.
Eddie sighs. “I’ve only ever dated the way teenagers do, too, you know? I’m sure you’ve figured that out.”
Christopher is six years old, Eddie is twenty-five. So yeah, Buck had a feeling.
“I’m married,” Eddie says. Buck knew that, too; he wears a ring. “Shannon was my first – only – girlfriend in high school, and we both came from the kind of families who expected us to get married when she got pregnant. So we did, but I also enlisted to try to support us. And then, after we got Chris’s diagnosis, I went back for another tour. I’ve always said I wanted to – to take care of them, to provide for them, especially when we needed good insurance to cover everything Chris needed.”
“But?” Buck prompts when Eddie doesn’t continue.
“I was fucking terrified,” Eddie says plainly. “I didn’t know how to be a father or a husband, and I ran away. And I ran in a way that let me pretend that I was doing it for them, and not because I was afraid. Shannon called me out on my bullshit, though, and even after I came home, we never – we didn’t know how to be in a relationship either, you know? And we didn’t have time to figure it out. We had a kid to worry about, and he was more important than our shit.” He sighs. “She left us a few years ago; I haven’t spoken to her since.”
“But you still consider yourself married?” Buck asks.
Eddie nods, then pulls a face. “I am literally, actually still married. And I’m too – afraid, I guess, to reach out to Shannon for that to change. You know? Like, yeah, she left me, but – if I get in touch, now we’re in the same city again, and she wants a divorce, that’s it. As long as we’re not talking, I haven’t completely failed at being a husband.”
“Wait, wait,” says Buck. “Shannon lives here?”
“Her mom has lived here for a while,” Eddie explains. “And she was sick. Cancer. So when Shannon left us, she came here. That’s not why we came here; I have family in LA, too, and they’re the best family I have. But it is, uh – it wasn’t not a factor.”
“You moved to the city where she lives, and you still won’t talk to her?” says Buck. “Man, I think that’s worse than my thing.”
“I don’t know,” says Eddie. “I’m afraid to face a failure that’s probably already happened. You’re afraid your girlfriend might like you too much?”
“I’m afraid we’ll fall into bed and she won’t want me for anything else after, actually,” Buck corrects. It’s a little more candid than he has been with anyone else, even Abby herself. He’d told Abby that he didn’t want to rush into things, to fall into old habits, but the deep-seated abandonment issues – that he’d kept to himself.
“She’d be crazy not to,” Eddie says. He leans into Buck, bumping their shoulders together. “You’re pretty great, man. If she only wants you for sex, that’s her loss. You’re, like, one of the best people I’ve ever met.”
“You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had,” Buck blurts. It’s crazy to say; they’ve only known each other a month, maybe, even if they’ve been talking almost constantly in that time.
Still –
“Yeah,” Eddie says, soft, “you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, too.”
They sit in silence for a moment, leaning into each other, before they pick the thread of their conversation back up. They make a pact: each of them has to do the thing they’re afraid of. Buck will ask Abby on a real date, and trust that his mindset will make the difference. Eddie will reach out to Shannon and get his family out of limbo, for better or worse.
Eddie is good for him, Buck thinks. He draws out the parts of Buck that he’s spent years playing down. Buck’s always been a talker, always been personable and approachable and friendly, but he’s done all of that while sharing very little of himself. He can be big and friendly and loud without letting anyone know him, and not letting anyone know him has always been safer than exposing his squishy insides to people who aren’t going to stay.
He doesn’t have any more reason to believe that Eddie will stay than anyone else before, but he does.
And maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Eddie will leave. But he still makes Buck want to be honest, want to trust him, want to believe somebody will stay.
It’s not just Eddie, actually. He’s starting to believe that firefighting might be the job that sticks. That the 118 might be his people, too. That Los Angeles could be the place.
He’s never had that feeling before.
He’s hoped, before. He’s tried to make places fit, make himself fit into them, to mold himself into someone the people he’d connected with might want to hold onto. But he’s never actually believed it.
He thinks he can believe it, now.
--
Buck asks Abby on a real date with such gusto that he ends up with Valentine’s plans for his first ever serious first date. Eddie can respect the commitment. The tough part is when he tells Eddie his date plans, he says Your move, Diaz.
Because the deal had been that they’d both do the thing they’re afraid of.
Eddie calls Shannon.
She doesn’t answer, because she hasn’t answered a single text or phone call since she left, but this time he does something he hasn’t done in almost two years: he leaves a message.
“Hey, Shannon,” he starts. He’s pacing his living room; it’s midafternoon on a weekday and he’s alone in the house. “It’s Eddie. Your husband.” He winces. Not his best. “Sorry. The father of your child? Is that better? God, I don’t know why I’m introducing myself; you’ve known me for a decade. I’m sure you could’ve figured out who I was on your own. Anyway, uh, if you’re still listening to this voicemail, you should know that Christopher and I moved to LA a few months ago. I wish I could – apologize in a way that will feel like enough, for not being ready to move when you needed to. It wasn’t about you. Not any more than you leaving was about me, I guess.
“Anyway, I thought you should know that we’re in LA, and that, uh, even if you don’t want to – you and I don’t have to go back to – we don’t have to be anything.” Eddie probably should’ve planned this out before he picked up the phone. “I still – no. It doesn’t have to be about us. But if you’re ready, just know – just know that Chris still asks about you, you know? He misses his mom. And even if you don’t want to go back to how we were, I – I hope that counts for something. Anyway. Uh, goodbye. Love you, Shan.”
He hangs up and flops backward over the couch. That was hard, way harder than it had a right to be, but at least he’s done it. The ball is firmly in Shannon’s court, now.
He texts Buck.
I did it. She didn’t answer, but I tried.
Buck’s response is almost instantaneous, even though he’s definitely at work right now. Heck yeah! That’s the important part, man. You can’t control whether S is ready for you, you’ve just gotta open the door.
Btw is my blue sweater at your house bc if it isn’t I think Connor stole it :(
Buck’s blue “sweater” – they will never agree on whether or not it is reasonable to call a zip-front hoodie a sweater, unfortunately – is, in fact, at Eddie’s house. He’s looking at it, draped haphazardly across the back of the couch.
It’s here, Eddie replies. I can drop it by the station this afternoon on my way out for Chris, if you want?
My hero!!!!!!!! I really thought it was gone forever. If you don’t mind bringing it by you can but I can also get it from you myself this weekend :)
To be entirely honest, Eddie kind of wants to see Buck. He did a hard, frustrating thing, and he’s sure if he gets within arm’s reach of his best friend, he’ll get a hug for it.
Wait actually you should bring it here! We had a party this morning cause Chim’s back to work and there is SO much cake.
That’s that, then.
Eddie has heard a lot about Station 118, the house and its inhabitants, but he’s never had a reason to visit. He’s in the academy; he’ll get plenty of time at fire stations starting in a few months, he doesn’t need to go borrowing time there early. Still, he can’t help being a little curious how the place and its people measure up to Buck’s tales.
He’s got to admit that the firehouse is beautiful, as these kinds of spaces go. It’s huge and airy, with light coming in on all sides, and a high-ceilinged loft above the bay. The only strange thing is what seems to be the locker room, which has entirely glass walls. That seems… counterintuitive.
“Buck!” Eddie calls, reluctant to go wandering. “You here?”
Buck appears over the railing of the loft, his face lit up with an utterly incandescent smile. “Eddie! Hi! Come upstairs!”
“Alright, give me a sec,” says Eddie.
By the time he reaches the top of the stairs, Buck has procured a slice of cake on a plate, which he shoves into Eddie’s hands.
“I think this is a piece of shoulder,” he says. “Did I tell you the cake was Chimney-shaped?”
“Do chimneys have shoulders?” says Eddie.
Buck groans exaggeratedly. “You know what I mean!”
“I do,” Eddie admits. He takes a bite. Cake-Chimney’s shoulder tastes pretty good. “Why was the cake shaped like Chimney?”
“Because Hen knows a guy,” says Buck. He tugs on Eddie’s sleeve. “C’mere, c’mere, I wanna introduce you to people.”
People ends up meaning his three favorite coworkers, who have all been watching this exchange with interest from the kitchen.
“Okay, so behind the counter, that’s Bobby,” Buck says. “He’s our captain, and he’s the one who’s teaching me how to cook! You can thank him for that French toast I made the other day.”
“Oh, that was actually good,” says Eddie.
“I know!” says Buck.
Bobby laughs. “Glad to hear my lessons are finally starting to stick.”
“I’m telling you, I’m a quick learner, and we could probably move onto non-breakfast foods,” Buck says.
“When you’re ready,” says Bobby, still looking fondly amused.
“I –“ Buck stops himself, fully physically shaking his head, and turns back to Eddie. “Sorry. That’s Hen, she’s a paramedic and she’s also got like fifty pairs of really cool glasses.”
“I have five,” Hen cuts in.
“And that is Chimney, newly back to work from the hole in his head!” Buck finishes, waving across both him and Hen, sitting at the counter on barstools.
“You’re the reason we met, actually,” Eddie says.
“What?” says Chimney. He’s got a visible scar in the middle of his forehead, emphasized by the way his brow is furrowing, but it’s not as bad as Eddie would’ve expected, given how recent the injury was.
“Eddie was in the crash, too,” Buck explains, “we met at the hospital. You know that.”
“I came out a lot better than you did, though,” says Eddie.
“Well, you’re welcome, then,” Chimney says.
Hen leans over and flicks his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re the reason Buck won’t shut up about this guy.”
“I can’t believe we got to meet Buck’s girlfriend and his boyfriend on the same day,” Chimney says.
He’s obviously teasing, at least mostly, but Buck still goes an interesting shade of pink.
“Ignore him,” Hen says, leaning around Chimney, “he just had a rough breakup, so he’s still bitter about everyone else’s happiness.”
“Guys,” Bobby says, in that universal tone that says cut that out without further elaboration.
“Abby was here?” Eddie asks, directed to Buck.
“See, they know about each other, it’s fine,” says Chimney.
“I invited her to meet everybody at the party,” Buck says, ignoring Chimney but still noticeably pink.
“Oh, so Abby gets to come to the party, and I get leftover cake?” Eddie teases.
“Hey, you had that appointment this morning, and then you were going to do that other thing,” says Buck. “Forgive me for assuming you’d prefer cake after your other shit.”
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t have, I’m saying that you didn’t even come up with the idea of me coming for cake until after I offered to drop your sweatshirt by,” Eddie says. He sets his cake down on the edge of the counter to throw the sweatshirt, which he’d been carrying over one arm, at Buck. “Here’s that, by the way.”
Buck squawks when it hits him, one arm flapping up to hit him in the face. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” says Eddie.
“Eddie, how’s your training going?” Bobby asks. “Buck’s told us you’re almost finished with the academy.”
“Oh,” Eddie says. He shouldn’t be surprised that Buck talks about him here; Buck talks about all of the people in his life. He tells stories constantly, forever peppering conversations with you’ll never believe what Con did yesterday and oh, Hen told me – and Bobby says it works best if we do it like this, and Chimney said the funniest thing. It’s reasonable to assume that other people in his life are hearing Eddie and I were just talking about this and Christopher asked me such a great question the other day.
Still, he didn’t expect it.
“It’s going really well, I think,” says Eddie. “I think firefighting is going to be a good fit for me, especially if even half of what Buck tells me about the job is true.”
“Excuse me,” Buck says, cutting in with overdramatic offense, “everything I tell you about the job is true!”
“Right, so if even half of what he tells me is true –“
Eddie has just enough time to set his mostly empty plate down on the counter before Buck launches at him. Eddie laughs as he’s lovingly, if somewhat ineffectively, tackled – lovingly because Buck is actually very careful to make sure Eddie doesn’t hit anything when they collide, twisting them slightly so that Eddie wobbles but does not topple into the counter. Buck brings out a young, playful part of Eddie, and moments like this prove he does the same for Buck.
“Boys!” Bobby’s voice cuts in, before they can devolve into actually wrestling. Buck freezes, clearly well-trained to respond to that tone from Bobby. “We’re at work, Buck.”
“Sorry, Bobby,” Buck says, releasing his grip on Eddie and sliding back to a more normal, adult standing-next-to-your-best-friend kind of posture.
“Eddie, if you have a few minutes, you’re welcome to sit down and join us until we get a call,” Bobby says. “So long as Buck can keep his hands to himself.”
“He started it!” Buck whines.
“We are adults,” says Eddie.
“Oh, don’t act like you’re all mature,” says Buck. He leans into Eddie, bumping their shoulders together.
“This is a fascinating glimpse into what Buckley is like in the wild,” Chimney says to Hen in a not-quite-undertone.
“Right?” says Hen. “I never would’ve assumed that this –“ she waves vaguely across the station, “is what it looks like when he’s behaving.”
Eddie glances at Buck, who’s gone a little pink again, but is grinning. Buck, Eddie has learned, can be a little sensitive to teasing; he has a hard time, sometimes, with telling the difference between playful teasing and someone being genuinely mean, with a tendency to assume the latter over the former.
Eddie has wondered, idly, what kind of childhood Buck had, to make him the kind of adult that he is. He never talks about it, aside from occasional mentions of an older sister he hasn’t heard from in years. Eddie isn’t even completely certain of where he’s from, since he’s moved around so much that it’s hard to put a precise timeline on any of it.
Not that Eddie’s been putting too much thought into it.
Anyway, the point is that Buck seems comfortable with Chimney and Hen’s commentary, seems to trust that it’s lighthearted and fond, so Eddie lets himself laugh.
It’s easy, from there, to fall into conversation with everyone, to hear everyone’s best stories about their careers and about Buck. So easy that he almost loses track of time, and has to bolt down the stairs to his car to make it to school pickup on time.
By the time he’s pulled into the line of cars, he has a text from Buck waiting for him.
Thanks for stopping by! Everybody is impressed I have a friend as cool as you are :)
Eddie laughs. Glad I could raise their opinion of you a little bit. Your team seem pretty great.
They are!! Buck replies. Only thing that could make it better is if YOU come to the 118 when you graduate, too.
Eddie’s been thinking about that himself, lately. It would be pretty awesome to work with his best friend.
If we’re lucky, maybe I will.
--
The best date Buck has ever been on in his entire life, bar absolutely none, ends with him almost dying.
It ends early, too, due to the fact that the choking incident which leads to the almost dying of it all happens before their entrees are even on the table.
Buck doesn’t remember most of it, only the way that as he’d passed out he had the distinct thought that this would be a really, really embarrassing way to die.
Abby is there at the hospital the first time that Buck wakes up, sitting at his bedside and holding his hand. He’s still really tired, but he squeezes her hand a bit. She says something to him, but he doesn’t catch what it is, and then he’s asleep again.
The next time he wakes up, a little less groggy, he hears two very familiar voices speaking quietly.
“- that they’d met on a call,” Eddie is saying. “She’s dispatch, right?”
“She is,” Bobby replies. “They worked together with Sergeant Athena Grant on a home invasion a few months ago. I’m not entirely sure how they started talking socially, but he’s seemed quite smitten.”
“Oh, yeah, he goes that great shade of pink when he talks about her,” says Eddie. “Gets all bashful? Like he hasn’t slept with –“
“Are you two gossiping about me?” Buck says. His voice comes out ragged, but honestly better than he would’ve expected.
“’Course we are,” Eddie says, warm and fond. He’s got a hand on Buck’s ankle, Buck realizes now as he squeezes it gently. “How else are we going to know what’s going on in your life? It’s not like you ever talk about yourself.”
“I talk plenty,” Buck replies.
“You talk all the time, and you say very little,” Bobby says. “I’m with Eddie on this one.”
“Why’re you even here?” asks Buck.
Eddie’s grip on his ankle tightens again. “Well, Bobby’s your emergency contact. And I’m your best friend. So the hospital called him, and he called me, and we both wanted to wait at least until you woke up to head out.”
“Abby?” Buck says.
“Had to head home to relieve her mom’s aide,” Bobby says, “but she wanted you to know that she’s looking forward to rescheduling your date once you’re back on your feet.”
“Oh,” says Buck. “That’s good.”
“Yeah, you’re lucky choking half to death on bread wasn’t a turnoff,” Eddie says. It’s light and teasing, but Buck can see the tension in him.
“Ed?” Buck says. “Where’s Chris?”
“Abuela’s,” says Eddie. “And he’s pretty mad that I wouldn’t let him come see you, so you’re just going to have to recover at our place.”
Buck lives with a bunch of guys in a loud, chaotic house, and he doesn’t exactly relish being in that chaos full time for however long it takes him to be back to a hundred percent, but –
“I can’t ask that of you,” Buck says.
“Yeah, well, you’re not asking,” says Eddie. “I am. Do you know how fucking scary that call was? Bobby calling from your phone? I thought you were fucking dead, man. Forgive me for wanting to keep you where I can see you for a few days.”
“Oh,” says Buck. He hadn’t considered that. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie says. “Just come sleep in my house for a few days.”
“Right,” Buck says. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
Bobby watches this whole conversation with an expression that Buck has trouble reading. He’s smiling, but his brow is slightly furrowed, an almost sad look in his eyes.
“I’m glad you’ll be in good hands when you’re discharged,” Bobby says. “I certainly trust Eddie with your wellbeing more than I do you.”
Buck squawks, offended. It hurts a little bit to do. “I can handle myself fine.”
“Sure you can,” Bobby says mildly.
“You’ve met Eddie twice!” Buck says. “How do you know he’s not actually worse than me?”
“Because you have told me exactly the kind of man Eddie is,” says Bobby. “And I’ve been sitting here with him for a while, and I know he’s invested in your wellbeing. Which is not an impression I’ve ever gotten from you.”
“Bobby.”
“Prove me wrong, kid.”
Buck splutters, and Eddie’s smile turns bright and genuine for the first time since Buck woke up.
All told, Buck is back to work remarkably fast. He stays with the Diazes for a few days longer than he probably needs to, sharing a bed with Eddie because he’d refused to let his friend sleep on the couch in his own house and Eddie shut Buck down before he could even start to offer the reverse. It’s a nice handful of days, even though the three of them are on wildly different schedules. Buck shows off his breakfast skills, Eddie shows off his video game skills, and Christopher shows off that he has the best taste in movies of the three of them by far.
It's almost disappointing to go back to his regular life.
By the time he’s settled back into his own place and his own life, things are starting to turn for the worse with Abby’s mom. It’s all Buck can do to try to be there for her.
He’d considered breaking things off, initially, knowing that she didn’t really have the time or energy for the kind of dating they’d been doing – the talking, the casual, the figuring it out – and after the third time she’d had to cancel on him he thought that was the sign. But he’d talked it over with Bobby, who gave him some advice that’s still ringing in his ears: step into it with her.
And because Buck really does like Abby, thinks he could definitely love her, if he lets himself, he does.
He tries to support her, shifts evenings out to evenings in, gives her a shoulder to cry on and arms to fall into when she needs them. Instead of stepping back, giving her room to deal with this on her own, he tries to make sure she knows that she doesn’t have to. That she’s got someone to lean on.
Adult life is messy, complicated, hard. And real, grounded adult relationships have to face that to survive.
It doesn’t, though, in the end.
Abby’s mom dies, and Buck sticks with her through it. Holds her through the first, hardest nights, keeps her company and runs errands and makes breakfast foods because he’s only barely graduated to lunch, but in the end –
In the end –
Abby leaves, is the thing. She doesn’t say she’s taking the relationship with her and never coming home, but Buck has been left before. He’s done the leaving before.
Abby leaves, because she needs to find herself and she wants to fulfill a dream of her mother’s that she never managed to achieve, and Buck drives her to the airport. Kisses her goodbye.
Watches her go.
She doesn’t look back.
Buck drives to Eddie’s house.
--
Eddie has nothing against Abby. Genuinely.
Everyone handles grief differently and sometimes a full reset is the only way to keep going. Eddie understands that; he really does.
He just thinks that Abby is stupid, or perhaps completely insane, to give up Buck in that reset.
Buck is one of the best people that Eddie has ever met. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he’s got the biggest heart, he’s great with kids, and he’s hot. What more could someone want?
Also, no, okay, Eddie does have one thing against Abby, because he’s Buck’s best friend and as Buck’s best friend he’s allowed to dislike the woman who broke his best friend’s heart. Actually.
(Not that he’s ever quite liked her; she’s a lot older than Buck, after all, and never seemed quite as invested in the relationship as he was, not to mention the somewhat dubiously ethical way that she seems to have gotten his number in the first place. The rest of it – the way she’d taken, taken, taken, without much of herself to give back, that’s different. Eddie’s marriage might have been a short-lived disaster, but he knows enough about adult relationships to know that you take turns being the person who needs the most. If she’d stuck it out, somewhere down the line there would’ve been a day when Buck was the one who needed someone to lean on, and Eddie has to believe, for Buck’s sake, that she would’ve been there for him.)
The point is, Abby left and Buck is heartbroken. How do you leave a guy as great as Buck behind?
Eddie ponders this while coaxing Buck back into his house for a few days. He’d been all but living with Abby, at the end, and tells Eddie that he’s offered to house sit for her until she gets back.
“And if she doesn’t come back? What then, Buck?” Eddie asks.
“I don’t know,” says Buck. “It’s been a while since someone left me before I could leave them.”
Eddie sighs. “You deserve better than haunting her fucking house, Buck.”
“Do I?”
Eddie slides closer to him on the couch, pressing their shoulders together firmly.
“You do,” he promises. “Look, Abby has her own shit to work through, but that’s not a reflection on you, okay? Realistically –“ Eddie sighs again, “realistically, this was always going to end this way, you know? Not because of you, or anything you’ve done wrong or right, just – her mom was already dying when you met her. And what she needs to get through that? It's not about you. But you can - can see that you need different things and still know you deserve better than what you're getting."
“She didn’t actually break up with me,” Buck says, leaning into Eddie. “Wouldn’t give me a straight answer about when she’ll be back, but didn’t tell me I shouldn’t wait for her.”
“I’m telling you,” says Eddie. “Don’t wait for her. She’s gone off to find herself, and you should let yourself do that, too.”
“What, find myself?” says Buck.
“Sure,” Eddie says, half laughing. “You’re the one that said that this last year – the 118 and Abby – has changed you. Get to know that new Buck. I, for one, think he’s a pretty great guy.”
“The 118 and Abby and you,” Buck says.
“What?”
“You said the 118 and Abby changed me,” says Buck. “But I met you this year, too, you know.”
“I didn’t want to give myself too much credit,” Eddie says.
“You should,” says Buck. Their hands are resting next to each other, a natural extension of the way they’re pressed tightly together from shoulder to hip. Buck reaches over and tentatively threads their fingers together, like he’s waiting for Eddie to pull away. “I am – I’m really glad that I met you, Eddie.”
“Yeah,” says Eddie. “I’m really glad I met you, too.”
In the end, Eddie does convince Buck to stay with them for at least the first few days that Abby is gone.
Then, all of a sudden, they look up and it’s been almost two months. Eddie graduates from the academy soon – with an offer to join Buck at the 118, on the personal request of Bobby Nash – and Buck doesn’t get that haunted look when he talks about Abby anymore. He barely talks about Abby at all, anymore.
Later, Eddie won’t be able to articulate why it hits him right this second. What about the way Buck is moving through his kitchen the same comfortable way he always has, singing along (badly) to the music playing from his phone, is the thing that tips him over.
All he knows, all at once, is that he could easily, easily fall in love with Buck.
That he might already be on his way.
He reaches over and pauses Buck’s music.
The man himself whirls around, grinning brightly at Eddie the way he always does, with a curious tilt to his head. “Ed? What’s up?”
“Can I try something?” Eddie blurts. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life,” Buck says, like it’s that easy. “Go for it, man.”
Eddie drifts closer. Puts a careful hand on Buck’s waist. He’s trying to make it clear what’s happening, give Buck time to understand and pull away.
He doesn’t.
Eddie kisses him.
“Was that okay?” Eddie says softly into the space between them, as he pulls away. He’s still holding onto Buck – one hand at his waist, one resting lightly on his arm. They’ve only separated a few inches.
“Was that – Eddie,” Buck says. His eyes are shining, his face is flushed, and he’s smiling, so soft and sweet and beautiful. “Eddie, kiss me again.”
And who is Eddie to say no to that?
So they kiss for a while, standing entwined in Eddie’s kitchen in the middle of the afternoon on some random, meaningless Thursday, and it’s the most perfect moment Eddie’s ever experienced in his life, he thinks. The rhythm is easy, Buck is in perfect tune with him, and it should be scary but instead it’s just – oh. Of course it’s this. Of course it’s you.
They get three perfect days of learning each other, of figuring out what they want and how to ask for it, before the universe throws them another curveball.
A text, from Shannon.
I’m ready.