Archive of Our Own

**Buck**

Buck enters the bay with his duffel bag hanging from one hand and his phone held triumphantly in front of him, the screen displaying the results of his latest body scan as he heads directly toward Hen and Bobby.

"I got another DXA scan, and guess who dropped another half-percent?"

Hen glances up, then at the image on Buck's phone. "What?"

"A DXA measures your body fat, to see your percentage in every part of your body," Buck explains, turning the screen toward her.

Chimney comes around the side of the engine just in time to hear him. "Oh yeah? Did they measure the fat in your head?"

"Ahh, see, that would be funny, but we're about a week away from submissions being due for the Hot Days, Smoldering Nights: Men of the LAFD wall calendar, and I'm already at my goal weight, so it seems like my head is clearly working perfectly." Buck points at his own temple for emphasis.

Hen folds her arms. "Do you really need to use that whole title? You could just say, 'that idiotic, reductive, sexist calendar that insults the dignity of this organization and furthers the myth that all firefighters are male.'"

Buck stares at her. "Yeah, that's not any less words."

"Hen, come on, it's for charity," Bobby says.

Her head turns sharply toward him. "No—Bobby, you too?"

"Well, why not?" Bobby straightens, looking entirely serious. "They say a man is at his sexiest when he reaches fifty."

Hen raises one eyebrow. "Is that what they say?"

"Mhm." Bobby nods once. "That's what they say."

"Okay, you're both wrong." Chimney steps fully into their little circle and gestures toward himself. "You see, I think sorority houses all across this great nation are ready for a new Asian sex symbol. It's our time."

Buck's mouth pulls into a small, deliberate grin. "I think it's great, you know? I like that you're both going up for it."

"Ohhh, because you don't think that we have a chance." Bobby translates.

"Whoa, did I say that?" Buck raises both hands. "I mean, sure, let's be real. They are only picking one candidate from each station—"

Chimney's attention abruptly drifts past him toward the locker room. "Okay, that is a beautiful man."

Buck stops.

Hen follows Chimney's gaze and gives an appreciative nod. "Where's the lie? And I like girls."

Buck follows Chim's gaze and turns toward the lockers, where a man stands half turned away as he pulls a dark blue station shirt over his head, revealing a narrow waist and an abdomen defined enough to make the entire calendar argument feel significantly less certain than it did a moment ago.

The stranger drags the shirt down and reaches back to free the collar from where it has caught against his neck.

Buck stares.

There is something familiar about him, but Buck can't pinpoint it. He knows a lot of firefighters, has met even more at joint calls and department events, and the academy brings out enough dark-haired, broad-shouldered men that this familiarity means very little.

Still, something scratches at the back of his mind.

"Who the hell is that?"

"New recruit," Bobby answers. "Graduated top of his class this week. Guys over at station Six were dying to have him, but I convinced him to join us."

"What do we need him for? Um…"

"He served multiple tours in Afghanistan as an Army medic," Bobby adds. "Guy's got a Silver Star. It's not like he's wet behind the ears. Come on I'll introduce you to him. He likes to be called eight pack." Bobby smiles, gesturing at his own chest.

The faint unease in Buck's mind sharpens at the mention of Army medic.

"Wow, silver star" Hen murmurs as she passes him.

"Better drop some more body fat there, butch." Chim adds, slapping him lightly on the stomach for emphasis before also making his way toward the locker room.

…

Bobby leads them across the floor, and Buck follows because refusing would make it seem like he cares, which he absolutely does not.

The stranger turns at the sound of their boots, brown eyes locking onto Buck's, and the strange familiarity evolves into a physical tug somewhere behind his ribs.

He knows those eyes.

Bobby gestures between them. "Eddie, this is Hen Wilson and Howard Han. Everybody calls him Chimney."

"Most people wait until the second conversation before asking why," Chimney says, extending his hand.

"I'll try to control myself." The new recruit shakes his hand, then Hen's. "It's good to meet you."

That voice goes through Buck like an electric current.

"And this is Buck," Bobby continues.

The man turns toward him looking him up and down, his brows furrowing.

Huh...

There is something almost comforting about knowing the confusion goes both ways.

...

"Hey," the man says, holding out his Hand after a Moment of hesitation. "I'm Eddie Di-"

"Eddie Diaz."

The second the name leaves his mouth, his heart gives a sudden lurch against his ribs.

Eddie?!

Eddie freezes as if Buck shouted it, his hand still extended between them.

He stares at his face properly then, really stares, and Buck sees the moment scattered memories begin arranging themselves together behind his eyes. The guarded smile disappears, his lips part, and his gaze catches on Buck's mouth before lifting again.

"... Buck?"

No fucking way.

Buck doesn't remember deciding to move. One second he#s standing an arm's length away with Eddie's offered hand between them, and the next he's stepping straight through that distance and wrapping both arms around him.

It's not even an awkward half embrace between men who met once and should probably still count as strangers. Buck catches him hard around the shoulders, and Eddie immediately hugs him back with equal force, one hand closing between Buck's shoulder blades while the other grips the back of his shirt.

"Shit, man," Buck murmurs against his shoulder. "Didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Eddie arms tighten a fraction before he answers. "You and me both."

God

For the first time since Buck watched the ambulance doors close on him, he has actual proof that Eddie made it through the night.

When they finally separate, Buck keeps both hands on Eddie's shoulders for another second, needing the confirmation longer than he wants to admit, and Eddie seems equally reluctant to let go.

...

Chimney breaks first. "Wow. I had actual money on territorial posturing."

Hen turns toward him. "With whom?"

"Myself, mostly, but I was extremely confident."

Buck suddenly remembers what came out of his mouth less than a minute ago, and the heat that rushes into his face has nothing to do with the temperature inside the bay.

"Okay, for the record, I retract the thing about us not needing you."

Eddie's eyebrows lift. "You said you didn't need me?"

"That's not exactly-"

"Word for word," Chimney supplies happily.

"You hadn't introduced us yet!"

"So this is how you greet all the recruits you don't need?" Eddie asks, warmth in his expression.

"I made an exception because you almost died on me."

"I was there. I remember."

"You remember?" Buck asks.

Eddie's amusement softens. "Well... I remember enough."

Bobby looks between them. "Wait. This is the Eddie?"

"There is a the Eddie?" Hen asks.

"Huuhh… Apparently there's an entire story nobody told me about," Chimney adds. "I get impaled once and suddenly everybody has secrets."

"You were the man in the plane," Hen says slowly. "The one with the little boy in Texas?"

Eddie's attention snaps toward her. "You know about Christopher?"

"Buck told us enough to make all three of us wonder whether you recovered." Her eyes move over him in a quick professional assessment. "You look a lot better standing up."

"I feel a lot better standing up."

"Did you recover completely?" Buck asks.

He keeps the question simple even though he wants to ask several more complicated ones.

Eddie seems to hear what he asks anyway. "The concussion kept me for two nights, the leg looked worse than it was, and respiratory monitoring is exactly as much fun as it sounds. They cleared me completely a few weeks later." His gaze travels down Buck's right arm. "What happened to your hand?"

Buck waves it of. "Nothing bad, I just needed a few stitches."

"Your shoulder?"

"It was nothing," Buck insists.

Eddie studies him for a moment before looking past him at the rest of the team. "Does he always lie about his injuries?"

"Yes," Hen, Chimney and Bobby answer in perfect unison.

The collective response stops Buck's denial. "Oh, come on. In all honesty, the fact that you weren't breathing was my primary concern."

Chimney's eyebrows shoot up. "Ooh, so we had mouth-to-mouth action, huh?"

Heat rushes into Buck's face. He can feel it spreading all the way to his ears. "Medical intervention."

"Sure, Romeo."

I'm gonna kill you Chim.

Buck is about to defend himself again when Bobby seemingly takes pity on him. "How did neither of you manage to find the other afterward?"

"I tried," Buck says, letting out a relieved breath. "The hospital wouldn't tell me anything because I wasn't family, and by the time the mass-casualty confusion settled down, nobody could even confirm where they'd transferred him."

"And I had pieces of his name," Eddie adds. "Mostly I remembered 'Buck,' which turns out to be less helpful than you'd think. The head injury scrambled some of the rest, and my mom was supposed to save the number he called us from. Then her phone died before I could get home, and she replaced it without transferring anything."

"Oh, that's brutal," Chimney says.

"Yeah, I tried asking around too," Eddie continues, looking at Buck again. "But a woman named Debra at the LAFD office told me they didn't have anyone named Buck."

"Technically, it's Buckley," Hen tells him.

"I gathered that much. When I asked whether anyone used Buck as a nickname, she got a little upset and said she couldn't possibly keep track of every goddamn nickname 'these boys' give each other."

Chimney nods with immediate recognition. "Yeah... that's Debra, all right."

"You were looking for me?" Buck asks.

Eddie's expression turns puzzled. "Of course I was."

Something presses warmly against the center of Buck's chest,forcing him to look away first.

A few minutes later, they are upstairs in the station loft, where Buck pours two cups of coffee and carries one over to Eddie. "Figured you could use this."

Eddie accepts the mug with a grateful smile. "Thanks, man."

Buck leans his hip against the counter, curling both hands around his own coffee. "So, how long have you been in LA?"

"I've been here a little over a month," Eddie says, wrapping one hand around the warmth of his mug as well. "I moved out here about two months after the plane crash, and training has taken up most of my time since."

"And before that, you went back to Texas?"

"As soon as the doctors let me anywhere near the highway."

Buck pauses with his coffee halfway to his mouth, his eyes narrowing over the rim. "You drove with a concussion?"

"My dad drove. I slept through Arizona."

Buck lowers his mug again. "So, I'm guessing you drove out here this time too?"

Eddie takes a sip before answering. "I've had enough planes for one lifetime."

"Fair enough."

...

For a moment, they drink their coffee in comfortable silence, Eddie leaning against the other side of the kitchen island while his gaze travels slowly around the loft.

"What were you doing on that flight?" Buck asks eventually. "You never said."

Eddie lowers his coffee from his mouth. "I was flying out to meet with a department recruiter, talk to one of the chiefs and look at a few places before I decided whether moving Christopher this far from everything he knows was worth it."

"And then your plane fell out of the sky, so you thought, Yeah, this city seems promising."

Eddie huffs a laugh. "Something like that."

"Seriously, though, what made you decide?"

The humor remains in Eddie's eyes, but he takes his time answering, his thumb moving absently along the rim of his cup.

"Being a medic was one of the only parts of my deployment that ever made sense to me," he says. "Somebody needed help, and I knew what I could do. I wanted something that felt like that without leaving my son for months at a time, and firefighting gave me a way to keep helping people while still building something stable for Chris."

Buck nods, understanding more of that than he knows how to explain.

"I still wasn't sure it had to be here," Eddie continues, setting his mug down between them. "But then that night happened."

"Again, most people don't experience a catastrophic aviation incident and decide to move closer."

"It wasn't the plane." Eddie turns toward him and holds Buck's gaze across the island. "It was you going back for someone you didn't know while everyone around you was telling you to leave. I figured working beside people like that couldn't be the worst decision I ever made."

Buck opens his mouth, but for once nothing arrives.

Eddie looks down at his coffee again. "After I recovered, I finished the application, and two months after the crash, I packed our lives into my truck and brought Christopher to Los Angeles. You made the decision permanent."

The warmth in Buck's chest becomes almost unbearable, but the alarm sounds before he finds a real response, cutting through the loft with enough force to send both of them upright as their abandoned mugs rattle against the counter.

Bobby's voice follows over the speaker. "Station 118, medical emergency at Westlake Tire and Auto."

They're moving before the dispatch finishes, racing down from the loft together, Buck only half a step behind him.

The call moves quickly. Eddie drops beside Hen with calm precision, recognizes the signs of a developing tension pneumothorax and takes over the safest placement for decompression. The trapped air escapes, Hector's breathing improves, and by the time they load him into the ambulance, his vitals are moving in the right direction.

"Good call," Bobby tells Eddie.

"Thanks, Cap."

Buck watches him across the stretcher, remembering the injured, half-conscious man he fought to keep alive inside a sinking plane and tries to reconcile him with the medic who just slipped into their rhythm as if he's always been there.

Eddie catches him staring. "What?"

"Nothing." Buck shakes his head, but he can't quite suppress his smile. "That was impressive."

"So you do need me."

"Don't push it."

Eddie bumps his shoulder against Buck's as they watch the ambulance pull away.

...

The uncomfortable truth is that Chim probably would have been right under any other circumstances. If Bobby had brought in some highly trained stranger who earned his approval and Hen's trust within a single call, Buck would already be measuring himself against him, searching for something he could do better and quietly resenting every sign that the newcomer might fit into the 118.

But with Eddie? It's simply… different.

+—+—+—+—+—+—+

**Eddie**

Buck is beside him at the open equipment compartment, restocking the supplies they used at the tire shop while talking about three unrelated subjects. Eddie listens with half an ear as he closes the medical bag and tries to remember that Buck already knows more about Christopher than most people do after months of friendship.

"What are you doing after shift?" He asks.

Buck pauses with a package of gauze in his hand. "Depends. Is this where the new guy gets informed about some terrible first-day tradition?"

"No, but now I'm concerned that you have one."

"We don't, unless Chim made something up on the ride."

Eddie exhales, looks down at the zipper beneath his fingers and decides that continuing to circle around the question will only make it stranger.

"I know this may be a little sudden, and technically we only really met today—"

"I think the plane counts."

"You were rescuing me, and I was barely conscious for most of it."

"You were conscious enough to insult my nickname."

Eddie lifts his gaze. "Would you like to meet Christopher?"

Buck goes completely still.

Eddie suddenly wonders whether he misjudged this.... Well, asking a man he properly met only hours ago to come into his home and meet his son may cross some boundary, but then Buck's entire expression opens with so much undisguised delight that the uncertainty disappears almost as quickly as it came.

"Seriously?" Buck asks. "Yeah, of course. Absolutely, I'd love to."

Eddie nearly laughs at the enthusiasm, but Buck's excitement falters before he can.

"Wait, are you sure?" Buck asks, lowering the gauze onto the shelf. "I want to—obviously—but after the crash... is Christopher okay with that?"

"I'm sure." Eddie has already had this conversation several times, though usually with Christopher asking questions faster than he can answer them. "He's been asking about the firefighter who saved his dad ever since we arrived in Los Angeles."

Buck's lips part. "He has?"

"Every time he sees an engine." Eddie allows himself a small smile. "He wants to meet you. He has for a while."

Something soft and almost startled settles over Buck as he looks down at his hands. "He doesn't have to thank me."

"Maybe... but he wants to."

Buck nods, then again, as if one agreement can't possibly contain enough enthusiasm. "Then yeah. Tell me when and where, and I'll be there."

They have just exchanged numbers, Buck typing Eddie's address into his phone, when the alarm tears through the station. "Structure fire, Restore and Renew Furniture Restoration, possible victim trapped."

Buck pockets his phone and reaches for his gear. "Important meeting after this," he says as he passes him.

Eddie shakes his head, but he can't stop smiling as he follows.

The two-story restoration shop is already bursting smoke through its upper windows when the engine turns onto the street, the painted sign above the entrance barely visible through the thick gray waves rolling along the roof.

The owner meets them at the parking spaces, coughing hard enough to bend himself in half as he points toward the building. "Nolan's still inside," he rasps. "He's twenty-two, he was just doing the books upstairs in the rear office, and I thought he was behind me, but he never came out."

Bobby looks toward the second floor, where orange light pulses behind the glass. "Buck, Eddie, primary search. Second floor, rear office. Chim, take the line behind them."

"Stay close." Buck tells him as he points toward the entrance

"I know how a primary search works."

"Good, because this would be a terrible time to find out otherwise."

...

When they enter, the smoke swallows them within seconds, turning the shop into a maze of vague shapes while heat presses down from Above and somewhere deeper inside, flames crack loudly enough to sound like splitting bones.

They reach the stairs, Buck testing each step before putting his weight onto it, and climb into heat that intensifies with every step.

At the top, visibility falls to almost nothing.

"Eddie, right side," Buck says through his mask. "I've got left."

They move together, calling Nolan's name into rooms that answer only with the roar of fire.

...

The rear office door refuses to open, so Buck drives his shoulder into it once, but something heavy moves on the other side without giving them enough room.

"Probably a cabinet behind it," he says.

Eddie wedges the halligan into the gap. "Then we move the door and the cabinet."

They force it together, gaining only inches at a time until the opening is wide enough for Buck to push through. Eddie follows and sees the sprawled shape behind the overturned cabinet almost immediately.

"Nolan!"

There is no response.

They crouch beside him, Eddie pressing two fingers against the exposed skin beneath his jaw. "I have a pulse. And he's breathing, but it's shallow."

Blood runs from a wound at Nolan's temple, disappearing into his hair, while the cabinet lies across one leg and pins the hem of his shirt to the floor.

Buck grips the upper edge. "Tell me when."

Eddie braces beside him. "Now!"

The cabinet moves reluctantly, scraping across the floor as fire chews through the wall behind them. Eddie gets one knee beneath it, Buck heaves again, and they create enough space to pull Nolan free.

"Command," Buck radios. "We found the missing worker in the rear office. He's unconscious but breathing, and we're bringing him out."

"Copy that," Bobby answers. "Conditions are deteriorating on the east side. Use the rear stairwell if your original route is compromised."

...

Their original route is already filled with flames by the time they drag Nolan back into the corridor.

Eddie takes his shoulders while Buck lifts beneath his knees, and together they carry him low beneath the smoke, retreating toward the center stairs until a section of burning plaster crashes down ahead of them and scatters across the hallway.

"Rear stairs!" Buck calls immediately.

They turn, moving faster as the ceiling groans above them.

The fire door appears through the smoke at the end of the corridor. Buck reaches it first, throws his weight against the bar and forces it open onto a narrow concrete landing where the air is marginally clearer.

The relief is short lived as Eddie has barely crossed the threshold with Nolan when Buck's head snaps upward and part of the ceiling comes down with a sudden fiery crack.

Buck releases Nolan's legs and drives both hands into Eddie's back, shoving him and the unconscious worker through the opening with enough force to send them sprawling across the landing. Eddie twists as he falls, dragging Nolan against his chest to protect his head, and the fire door slams between them as burning timber and plaster collapse into the space Buck occupied.

No, no, shit!

"Buck!"

Eddie throws himself toward the door, but it opens less than an inch before striking debris on the other side, blocking it from opening further.

"Buck, answer me!"

"I'm here."

The relief lasts less than a second. Buck's voice sounds wrong, strained around the edges and interrupted by a cough.

Eddie braces both hands against the door and shoves again, but it refuses to move. "Move away from the door. I'm coming back through."

"Negative." Buck coughs again. "Take him out, Eddie."

"I'm not leaving you up there!"

"Nolan needs medical attention now."

As if responding to his name, Nolan makes a weak sound against the floor.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Possible damage to my regulator hose," Buck says through the radio. "I'm getting smoke inside the mask."

Fear settles cold beneath Eddie's turnout gear despite the heat surrounding him. "Command!" He almost screams into his radio. "Buck's trapped on the second floor with damage to his air supply!"

"Copy," Bobby answers immediately. "Get the victim down. Chim is moving to the rear stairwell with emergency air."

Eddie stares at the now sealed fire door while every instinct in his body fights the order.

"Diaz," Bobby says again, sharper now. "Nolan needs you. Get him out, and then you go back with Chim!"

Buck coughs into the radio. "Listen to him."

"Stop wasting oxygen arguing with me," Eddie snaps.

"Then move!"

Dammit.

Eddie hates him a little for being right.

He hooks his arms beneath Nolan's shoulders and drags him down the concrete steps, taking them as quickly as he can without allowing the man's head to strike the floor.

Smoke slips beneath the door on the first floor, thickening the air around them, while Buck's breathing remains in Eddie's ear for the first flight.

By the second, it has gone frighteningly quiet.

"Buck, keep talking."

There is a pause long enough to make Eddie stumble.

"Still here," Buck answers faintly.

Eddie reaches the exit and drives his shoulder through it into open air. Hen and Chimney are waiting, and they take Nolan's weight before Eddie has fully released him.

"Unconscious, possible head injury and smoke exposure," Eddie reports. "Pulse is rapid, breathing shallow, and he was pinned beneath a filing cabinet."

Hen nods and lowers Nolan onto the stretcher, but Eddie is already turning back toward the building.

A shrill but somewhat faint alarm begins sounding from somewhere in the building.

Buck's PASS device.

No, no, no!

That means he stopped moving.

Eddie's body reacts before his mind does, carrying him toward the rear entrance as Chimney runs up with the emergency air pack, his usual humor absent.

"Tell me he's still talking," Chimney says.

"Bobby—"

"Go," Bobby orders. "Chim, stay with Diaz. You have two minutes before I pull all of you out."

Eddie doesn't waste a second answering.

He and Chimney force their way into the rear stairwell, following the handrail upward as smoke gathers around them. The PASS alarm grows louder with every step, its relentless electronic cry cutting through the fire until it becomes the only sound Eddie can hear.

"Come on, Buckley," Chimney mutters as they climb. "You'd better be awake when we get there."

The upper fire door has warped in its frame and Chimney drives the halligan beside the latch while Eddie pulls, but the metal barely moves.

"Again," Chimney orders.

They throw their combined weight against it, tearing the door open far enough to crawl through.

"Buck!"

The corridor beyond has been transformed by the collapse, ceiling panels covering the floor while fire crawls over the beams overhead. The PASS alarm screams from behind a fallen section of plaster.

Eddie drops to his hands and knees and follows it, with Chimney close behind him.

He finds Buck's glove first.

For one terrible moment, it lies motionless beneath the debris, and Eddie's heart stops so completely that the rest of the world seems to vanish with it, but then the fingers curl weakly around his.

Oh Thank God.

"I've got him!"

"That's it, Buck," Chimney calls. "Keep giving us something."

They find Buck on his side. A beam has trapped the pack against the floor and forced Buck’s right arm beneath him, leaving him unable to reach either release buckle.His eyes are open, but only barely, and every breath ends in a harsh, smoke roughened cough.

Chimney drops beside him and immediately reaches for the damaged hose. "His pack is wedged beneath the beam, and the regulator line is compromised."

Eddie presses a hand to the side of Buck's helmet. "Buck, look at me."

Buck's gaze moves sluggishly before finally finding him.

"There you are," Eddie says, "Chimney is going to free your pack, and then we're getting you out."

"Yeah, that's the plan," Chimney nods, already pulling the rescue regulator from the emergency air pack. He disconnects Buck’s damaged regulator and locks the replacement into place. "You hear that, Buckley? All you have to do is stay conscious and let us perform the difficult part for once."

Eddie slides one arm beneath Buck's shoulders and drags him upward as far as the pinned equipment allows, getting Buck propped against his chest so he's no longer folded toward the floor, then holds the mask firmly against his face.

Fresh air rushes into the mask with a sharp hiss. Eddie keeps one hand pressed firmly against the seal as Buck drags in a breath, and immediately coughs it back out.

"Ugly, but I'll take it," Chimney says, but the relief beneath the words is unmistakable. "Try another one."

"Hold on," Eddie orders, tightening his arm around Buck. "Just hold on."

Buck's helmet shifts against Eddie's shoulder as he tries to lift his head. "Got an important first meeting."

Unbelievable.

"You're such an idiot," Eddie tells him.

"Understatement of the century." Chimney adds as he wedges the halligan beneath the beam.

Buck's eyes crease faintly at the corners. "Still invited?"

"Please postpone the scheduling discussion until we are no longer beneath a collapsing roof," Chimney says.

"Get out of this building, and then we'll discuss your social calendar," Eddie tells Buck.

"Sounds like a yes."

"Stop talking."

Chimney puts his full weight against the halligan, forcing the beam high enough to relieve the pressure on the harness. "Pull him backward on three. One, two, three."

Eddie locks both arms around Buck and hauls when the harness finally tears free with a violent jerk, sending him backward with Buck's full weight against him while Chimney lets the beam crash down where Buck had been lying.

"Command, we have him," Chimney radios, one hand immediately returning to Buck's shoulder. "He's conscious, brief smoke inhalation. We're beginning extraction."

"Thirty seconds," Bobby answers. "The roof is becoming unstable!"

Eddie gets one of Buck's arms across his shoulders and forces them both upright. Buck's knees buckle immediately, but Eddie catches him around the waist before he can fall, while Chimney steadies him from the other side.

They move.

Chimney leads them over the debris but keeps glancing back, one hand reaching behind him whenever Buck stumbles while Eddie carries enough of the mans weight to feel every faltering step.

Buck turns his head weakly, his mask knocking against Eddie's helmet. "Terrible first impression."

"I would currently settle for any first impression that doesn't require us to carry you out in a bag," Chimney says. "Keep moving, Buck."

A laugh threatens to Surface somewhere beneath Eddie's panic. "You heard him. Keep moving, idiot."

They descend one step at a time, Chimney below them and Eddie braced against Buck's side while the rescue regulator continues feeding clean air into Buck's mask.

A few moments later, the rear exit finally appears ahead of them, daylight cutting through the smoke around its edges.

When Chimney throws it open, they spill out into fresh air just as something heavy collapses inside the building.

Hen reaches them with oxygen seconds later, Eddie keeping an arm behind Buck's shoulders until she replaces the face piece with an oxygen mask.

The first breath Buck takes from it breaks into violent coughing.

Chimney yanks off his own mask and drops beside him. "Easy, Buck. Don't fight it."

Eddie stays where he is, kneeling close while Hen checks his airway, listens to his lungs and watches the numbers on the pulse oximeter begin climbing. Chimney keeps one hand wrapped around Buck's turnout sleeve, and although his grip loosens slightly when the monitor improves, he does not let go.

"No burns around his mouth, his lungs sound reasonably clear, and his oxygen is recovering," Hen says. "You were lucky, Buckaroo."

"He's going to need more than luck if he ever makes me follow his PASS alarm into a burning building again," Chimney mutters.

Buck opens his eyes and finds Eddie beside him. "You went back," he says beneath the mask.

"So did you."

"I wasn't keeping score."

"Neither was I."

Buck studies him for another moment, then lifts the oxygen mask just far enough to speak clearly. "What time?"

Hen looks between them. "Did I miss an entire conversation, or is the smoke making him cryptic?"

"You were pulled out of a burning building less than five minutes ago," Eddie says.

"That's not an answer."

"We found him pinned beneath half the ceiling, and he wanted to discuss his evening plans." Chimney tells Hen.

Hen pushes the mask firmly back over Buck's mouth. "Of course he did."

Eddie shakes his head. "Seven, assuming Hen clears you and you can make it through an entire sentence without coughing."

Buck's smile remains visible around the edges of the oxygen mask.

"Seven," Eddie repeats. "And you're explaining to Christopher why you smell like a house fire."

Buck gives him an unsteady thumbs-up.

…

Once Bobby finally calls the scene clear, Hen returns to listen to Buck's lungs, check his vitals and watch him take several slow breaths without the oxygen. His cough has faded to an occasional rough scrape, and when his numbers remain steady, she finally sits back on her heels.

"All right. I'm clearing you to leave, but that does not mean you're fine to do whatever you want," she warns. "If the cough gets worse, you have trouble breathing or anything feels off, you go to the ER. Immediately."

Buck lowers the mask slightly. "Understood."

"You also need someone keeping an eye on you for the next several hours."

"I'll do it," Eddie says before Hen can finish.

Buck looks over at him. "You sure? We technically only met today."

"We met months ago, Buck," Eddie answers. "And yeah, I'm sure."

Hen nods approvingly and pushes the oxygen mask back over Buck's mouth. "Good. Then Diaz drives, and you keep this on for another ten minutes without arguing."

Buck glances down at the soot covering his turnout gear before looking back at Eddie. "Still a pretty bad first impression."

"Nah," Eddie says. "You're badass under pressure. You can have my back any day."

Buck's eyebrows lift in surprise and something in his eyes softens. "Yeah. Or, you know, you could... you could have mine."

Eddie holds out his hand.

"Deal."

Showered, changed into clean clothes and medically cleared with Hen's strict instructions still ringing in his ears, Buck climbs into the passenger seat of Eddie's truck, and they finally leave the station already running behind schedule.

When they finally reach the house, he switches off the engine and looks toward the warm light glowing behind the living-room curtains. "My abuela is going to kill me."

Buck glances at the clock on the dashboard. "Because we're late?"

"Because I'm late again."

"A ceiling collapsed on me."

"She'll probably say I should have planned around it."

Buck considers that for a moment. "I'm suddenly much more nervous about meeting her than Christopher."

"You should be. She's about five feet tall and completely fearless."

"Those are always the dangerous ones."

Eddie unlocks the front door and steps inside first, leaving Buck hovering half a step behind him on the porch as warmth, light spill out to meet them.

"Abuela?"

His grandmother appears from the kitchen with a dish towel still in her hands, and the relief that crosses her face at seeing him home lasts for approximately one second before she glances toward the clock. "When you tell me seven, I expect you to mean seven. It is almost seven-thirty, dinner is getting cold, and this is the second time this week that you have decided clocks are merely suggestions."

"I didn't decide anything," Eddie says, closing the door once Buck has stepped inside. "I had a good excuse this time."

"You always have a good excuse."

"This one is standing right behind me."

Eddie gestures toward Buck, who straightens beneath Abuela's sudden attention and raises one hand in an awkward little wave.

"Hi."

Oh wow.

The same man who entered a burning building without hesitation and spent several minutes pinned beneath part of it now looks completely uncertain about what to do with an elderly woman holding a dish towel.

Eddie finds the contrast far cuter than he has any business finding anything Buck does after knowing him for one actual day.

"Abuela, this is Evan Buckley," Eddie says. "Buck, this is my grandmother."

Buck steps forward and offers his hand. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am. Sorry we made him late."

Abuela doesn't take his hand immediately. She studies his face instead, her eyes narrowing slightly as the name settles into place.

"Buck?" she repeats.

Buck glances toward Eddie before nodding. "Yes, ma'am."

Her dish towel falls onto the small table beside the doorway, and before Buck can prepare himself, she crosses the remaining distance and wraps both arms around him.

Buck freezes with his hands suspended awkwardly in the air.

"Thank you," Abuela says, holding him tightly. "Oh Thank you for bringing my grandson home."

Buck's surprise softens almost immediately. He lowers his arms around her with obvious care, bending slightly to return the embrace.

"You don't have to thank me."

"Yes, I do." Abuela pulls back far enough to look up at him, keeping both hands around his arms. "Eddie told us what you did, how you stayed when that plane was sinking and would not leave him behind."

Buck looks toward Eddie, some uncertainty flickering behind his eyes. "I was just doing my job."

"You did more than your job," she tells him. "Our family knows the difference."

"I'm just glad I could—"

"Dad!"

The shout cuts across his answer, followed by quick footsteps from the hallway.

Eddie turns immediately as Christopher comes into view, one hand brushing the wall for balance as his uneven steps carry him forward as quickly as he can manage without his crutches, and Eddie's instinctive warning to slow down dies when Chris sees him and his entire expression brightens.

Eddie crosses the room before Christopher can take more than another step, dropping down and wrapping both arms around him.

"Hey, mijo."

Christopher hugs him back tightly, both arms winding around Eddie's neck. He closes his eyes and holds him for an extra moment, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and feeling the last of the day finally begin to loosen its grip on him.

His son pulls back just enough to look at him. "How was your first day?"

Eddie glances over his shoulder at Buck, who is watching them with a soft smile and something close to wonder in his eyes.

"Eventful," Eddie says.

Christopher follows his gaze across the room to the tall stranger standing beside Abuela. "Who is he?"

Eddie can't stop the smile tugging at his mouth. "Someone you've been wanting to meet."

Christopher looks from Eddie to Buck again, and he sees the exact moment understanding breaks through the confusion, his eyes widening as his entire expression brightens with excitement.

"The firefighter?"

Buck steps forward, suddenly looking almost as nervous as he did when Abuela hugged him. "Hi, Christopher. I'm Buck."

Chris stares at him for a moment, taking in the broad shoulders, the light curls that are still damp from the station shower and the faint redness smoke has left around his eyes. "You saved my dad."

Buck glances briefly at Eddie before nodding. "Yeah, I helped him."

Christopher closes the distance between them as quickly as he can, one hand finding Buck's arm for balance before he wraps both arms around him.

Buck startles, but only for a second before he drops onto one knee and returns the hug without hesitation, one arm settling securely around him back while his other hand steadies him at the side.

"Thank you," Christopher says against his shoulder.

Buck's arms tighten slightly. "Your dad fought with everything he had. I just nudged him a little."

Eddie has to swallow around the sudden pressure in his throat as he remembers that supposed little nudge.

Christopher pulls back. "Do you work together now?"

Buck looks up at Eddie, a smile beginning to spread across his face. "Looks like it."

"Did you plan that?"

"No," Eddie answers, moving closer when Christopher reaches for his hand. "I didn't even know he worked at the 118 until I walked into the station this morning. It was probably just a very strange coincidence."

"It was fate," Abuela declares from behind them.

Eddie closes his eyes briefly. "Abuela."

"What?" She gathers her abandoned dish towel from the table, looking entirely satisfied with herself. "A firefighter saves your life and disappears before you can find him, and then you move to Los Angeles and are assigned to his station? That's not a coincidence."

Christopher nods solemnly. "I think she's right."

"Of course you do."

Buck rises carefully. "I don't know, Diaz." Buck's smile widens. "It's a pretty convincing argument."

Christopher looks between them, visibly delighted. "Does that mean you get to save people together now?"

"Yeah," Eddie says "I guess it does."

Buck holds his eyes for another moment. "Better circumstances?"

Eddie glances at Christopher beside him before looking back at Buck, warmth spreading through his chest.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Much better circumstances."