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For some strange reason, George had thought it was going to be the collapsing cliff that killed him.
When he survived that the first time and was halfway to being rescued by the LAFD, he figured it was the second collapse that would take him, plus the two firefighters who fell with him, straight to the Pearly Gates.
But no, all three survived that.
It was the awkwardness that was gonna make him kick his oxygen habit, and Christ, he wanted nothing more than the Reaper to come sooner rather than later because those two clearly knew each other – biblically – and had, apparently, gone through a devastating break up.
It was about as devastating a break as the one in George’s leg.
When the dust cleared after the second collapse, it took George a moment to realise where he was and what had happened.
He’d been on a tourist bus when the first collapse happened. The road just disappeared under the wheels, sending them down onto a ledge below. Firefighters had rappelled down and pulled everyone out. George hadn’t suffered an injury at that point, so he’d happily stayed on the ledge while they got the more at-risk tourists to safety.
His son, who’d gone through his own messy break up and had insisted on the trip to Los Angeles as a way to begin his healing, had snapped his collarbone and was one of the first out of there. At least George knew Sam was safe.
And then, just as Firefighter Kinard had secured George into a harness so he could take him to the top, the ground gave way again, and they fell another fifteen feet or so.
Most of George’s fall was cushioned by Firefighter Kinard, given how they were clipped together. It was the debris that followed them down that broke George’s leg.
It was the crackling of the radio by George’s ear that brought him back to reality. That and the grunt of the man beneath him. George struggled to get off of him, until a rather large and heavy arm held him down.
“Calm down,” Firefighter Kinard ordered gruffly, then unclipped them when George stopped squirming. Set free, he rolled off him the best he could with his useless leg, and took stock of the situation.
A freefall to the left of him, a pile of rubble to the right. Curious faces peering over at them from above, those who hadn’t fallen with the second collapse. One beefy firefighter on the slim ledge with him. He hoped that was it for the disintegration of the cliff face. He wasn’t sure if he was closer to heaven or hell at that point.
“Check in, Kinard. Anyone got eyes on Kinard?”
Firefighter Kinard winced as he reached for the radio. “I’m here, Cap.” He looked at George. “How you doing, George? Can you stand?”
George shook his head. “I think my leg broke.”
It had certainly felt like the time his younger brother fell on his leg and snapped it during a roller-skating accident when he was ten, around the time Nixon resigned.
Another wince from Firefighter Kinard. “George thinks he broke his leg, but we’re okay.”
“Thank God, Kinard. That fall looked nasty.” There was something muffled, then: “Do you have eyes on Buckley? He’s the only one unaccounted for.”
And George didn’t know anything at all about Firefighter Kinard, except that he was a massive man, and that Firefighter Buckley being unaccounted for scared him. It had him jolting up and looking around.
“Evan?!”
There was a grumble, then movement, on the other side of the rubble, and maybe George had hit his head, because the firefighter who clambered over it was just as big as Firefighter Kinard and just where did the LAFD happen to find these guys? A beef factory?
The relieved sigh that came from Firefighter Kinard was the kind of relieved sigh George was keeping in his chest until they were back on solid ground for good.
That was the first hint that maybe the pair weren’t just firefighting, cliff-scaling colleagues.
“I have eyes on Buckley, he’s ambulant,” Firefighter Kinard said into his radio. “Possible head injury.”
It was probably easier to see the blood that indicated that if George could be upright and another foot taller.
“Tommy?” Firefighter Buckley asked, like he was surprised to see him there. “Are you – what are you doing here?”
“My job, Firefighter Buckley.”
The tone was so eerily similar to the one Sam used when George helped him move out of his ex’s apartment and the ex ‘accidentally’ called him ‘babe’.
It was surprisingly different to the way he’d called his first name not a minute before.
That was the second hint that maybe the pair weren’t just firefighting, cliff-scaling colleagues.
George wasn’t sure if it was the injuries or Firefighter Kinard’s tone that had Firefighter Buckley flinching.
“I meant this rescue would go a lot easier if you were in a helicopter.”
Firefighter Kinard might have been grumpy at whatever had happened between them but that didn’t stop him from checking on Firefighter Buckley when he was within reach.
Even George could see how tender he was with him, gently removing Firefighter Buckley’s helmet to assess his injury.
Yeah. Definitely biblical, intimate knowledge of each other.
“Used up all of my flying hours just before this call.”
“Jesus, that’s a busy day.”
“Had worse.”
Seemingly content that Firefighter Buckley was okay, Firefighter Kinard stepped back.
It looked like it physically hurt Firefighter Buckley for him to do that.
Right.
George guessed it was Firefighter Kinard who instigated the split and broke Firefighter Buckley’s heart as bad as George’s leg.
The radio came back to life, but it was only Firefighter Kinard’s. Firefighter Buckley smacked at his own as if it was a TV from the 80s that got snowy with static. “We’re prepping the basket for the patient. Should be down in five.”
Firefighter Kinard put on what had to be his customer service face as he turned to George while Firefighter Buckley put on his helmet, because all of the stoicness he’d worn while checking on Firefighter Buckley disappeared. “How do you feel about heights, George?”
“Liking them less and less, to be honest.”
“How about elevator rides?”
“I’m an old man with a broken leg; they’re about to become my best friends.”
It got a huff of a laugh from Firefighter Kinard. “Great. So the team up top is going to lower down a stretcher for us to strap you into instead of the harness. You’ll be winched up and we’ll be beside you the whole way.” He turned to Firefighter Buckley again. “How’s your line?”
Firefighter Buckley jingled the carabiner at his waist. “Had to cut it. It was stuck under what used to be part of the cliff.
“We’ll need a new line for Firefighter Buckley, too,” Firefighter Kinard said into his radio, for which he received a ‘copy’.
With a heavy sigh, Firefighter Buckley lowered himself down to sit next to George. “How are you feeling?”
“Kind of aches. I imagine you know how that feels.”
While George had clearly meant heartache, Firefighter Buckley laughed. “Yeah, broken legs aren’t fun. I had my leg crushed by a ladder truck. That sucked.”
And George’s brain was back to the very simple question of where on Earth did the LAFD find these guys? Gold’s Gym alongside Arnie?
“A ladder truck? As in a firetruck?”
“Yup. Some kid planted a bomb in it to get back at my old captain – who wasn’t on the truck at the time – and I ended up under it after it exploded.”
“And you’re still here as a firefighter?”
Frankly, he should have been more surprised that Firefighter Buckley was still there as a living, breathing human being, but George suspected most normal people would quit the job after a traumatic injury like that.
Firefighter Buckley shrugged. “It was the clots in my lungs after all the surgeries that was the real trouble. That was probably scarier than the time I was caught up in the tsunami, or it definitely would have been if I hadn’t let go of Chris. What was really bad was when I was struck by lightning. That killed me. They resuscitated me, my team did, but it took about three minutes.”
Maybe the reason why George hadn’t joined the eternal choir was because Death was scared of Firefighter Buckley.
“But you don’t have to worry about any of that,” Firefighter Buckley continued, as if he hadn’t just listed numerous ways the Reaper failed to pull his plug.
George looked up at Firefighter Kinard who didn’t look surprised in the slightest at Firefighter Buckley’s nonchalant should-have-been deaths. “You get used to it,” Firefighter Kinard said to George.
“Get used to what?” Firefighter Buckley asked.
Firefighter Kinard didn’t respond. He instead chose that moment to double-check his own harness and rope.
“So, uh, you two know each other that well, huh?”
Both froze.
And then sprung into action when the equipment lowered down to them. They were nothing but professional as they manoeuvred the ropes and basket – Firefighter Buckley clipping himself in, then letting Firefighter Kinard check he was secure before they helped George onto the board with only a few grunts that were barely words said between them.
Yeah, it was the awkwardness that was gonna off him. He wondered, briefly, if that would be more painful than having a firetruck crush you.
Time for an icebreaker, then, which was one of George’s specialities as a certified Experienced Dad.
“My son is gay and looking for a new man, if either of you are interested,” George offered while they strapped him into the basket.
Firefighter Kinard had been speaking into his radio about their lack of supplies and how they’d have to splint George’s leg when they reached the paramedics at the top, but stopped abruptly.
If George’s work computer in the 90s had been capable of making expressions, he figured it would have the exact same expression Firefighter Kinard made when he made a DOS command. He also figured that he could just about hear the clicking and whirling noise his computer used to make while Firefighter Kinard processed that.
It was Firefighter Buckley who responded. “I’m sure he’s great, but I’m a little caught up on my ex still.”
Thank goodness he hadn’t said anything surprising. It sure would be embarrassing to die from a heart attack after everything George had been through that day.
He pointed at Firefighter Kinard.
“That ex?”
“Is it that obvious?”
George actually had to laugh at that. “Is my leg broken?”
At least it didn’t feel so awkward anymore.
George couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing, because without the threat of death by awkwardness dangling over his head, he had the slight issue of the pain of a broken freaking leg.
He and Sam were going to be the greatest pair. If only the firefighters had taken George up on dating Sam, they might’ve been able to help them around the house while Sam couldn’t use his arms and George couldn’t use his leg.
Damnit.
So he tried to make another distraction.
“Any chance your ex is still caught up on you?”
“Probably not,” Firefighter said with a shrug. “He’s super hot and funny and smart, and so, so cool. His regular job is flying helicopters and planes. He’s too cool to be single for too long, so I have no doubt that he’s found someone who’s absolutely in love with him and has moved on.”
That got a scoff out of Firefighter Kinard once he was done talking into the radio. “He was the one who wanted to try again.”
Oh. The layers.
“Yeah, but he also accused me of being in love with my straight best friend the entire time we dated. And then laughed when I pointed it out that he’s straight.”
“Maybe he was aware that queer guys fall for straight guys all the time.”
Firefighter Buckley seemed a little taken aback by that. “Oh. Well. That’s not what was going on with me and Eddie. He’s, like, my brother. That’s kinda gross. Besides, I was so into you that I didn’t notice anyone else while we were dating.”
An instruction came through on Firefighter Kinard’s radio. George paid it no attention, too interested in what was going on between the two firefighters. It was like a soap opera – he foresaw a lot of soap operas in his future thanks to his broken leg; why not start with Days of Our Firefighters Kinard and Buckley?
Okay, he paid a little bit of attention when the ropes started to pull him up, but chose to focus on the drama because it was far less terrifying.
“And, yeah, okay, I said some shit, I’ll admit that, but you caught me off guard with the whole Eddie stuff. I don’t think I’ve been happier than when you asked me what I was doing Saturday, and it just feels like the whole world has fallen apart since then…”
“I honestly thought that’s why you called me the day of the…lab,” Firefighter Kinard said as they started their ascent, and George was as intrigued as he could possibly be. He was locked in, physically and emotionally, and was praying that they’d sort it out, but, more importantly, that they’d sort it out before he got into an ambulance.
What happened at the lab?
“Turned out to be one of the worst days of my life,” Firefighter Buckley said and George very suddenly hated the lab. Fuck the lab and whatever happened inside it. “Though, there was a bit of brightness there when we were in the helicopter and you said that you weren’t just there for Chim.”
Firefighter Kinard sighed. “I’d do anything for you, Evan.”
It was the perfect moment for George to pipe up. “Including trying again?” He hoped that wasn’t the ‘that’ that Meat Loaf sang about.
They reached the ledge they’d fallen down on the second collapse and kept going.
“Yeah.”
It was almost like George could feel the Reaper retreat. No more death by awkwardness. Perhaps Cupid was taking his place.
“Really?”
There was so much hope in Firefighter Buckley’s voice that it warmed George’s heart.
“I mean, we would need to talk a lot,” Firefighter Kinard said. “Probably some couples therapy.”
“I love therapy. Happy to do it.”
“And set realistic expectations.”
“Six months is too early to suggest moving in together. Got it.”
That…sounded very specific.
It did make Firefighter Kinard laugh, though.
They kept getting closer and closer to the top of the cliff where George could see half a dozen faces peering down at them, then he was being pulled onto solid ground and transferred onto a gurney.
“So…what are you doing Saturday?” Firefighter Kinard asked Firefighter Buckley while they strapped George in. The paramedics worked quickly – a cannula was placed into the back of his hand and the painkillers quickly made him forget that his leg was broken.
“Uh, actually, I’m introducing Theo to my mom.”
“Ouch.”
They both pulled away suddenly, hands in the air. So did the paramedics.
“Sorry…”
“Did we..?”
George shook his head as much as the stretcher allowed. “No, that was in solidarity with my guy, Firefighter Kinard. Here he is, trying to set up a date with you after a great reunion, and you have a Theo waiting in the wings? That’s rough.”
Firefighter Buckley actually had the gall to laugh. “Oh my God, no. Theo isn’t a Theo. He’s uh, my foster son. Well, bio-son, actually. You remember the story about the sperm-donor baby born on my couch?”
George wished he knew that story.
Just add it to the list of insane instances that apparently made up Firefighter Buckley’s life, and the next great plotline in the soap opera.
“Yeah?”
“His parents died in a car accident, so I’ve become his foster dad.”
“Oh.”
“Hence why he’s meeting my mom tomorrow. But, uh, if me being a foster dad hasn’t scared you off, I am free on Sunday.”
It was almost as if George could feel the joy coming from Firefighter Kinard.
“Farmer’s market?”
“It’s a date.”
Despite how good and sweet the moment was, the paramedic cleared her throat. “Alright you two. Can I take my patient now, please?”
And, yeah, George supposed it was more important that he got his leg literally straightened out than being witness to the blossoming love between two of the biggest humans he’d ever seen.
It was also good to know that he’d been rescued not only from a cliff fall (two of them, even!), but also from dying of absolute awkwardness.