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After the day he'd had, there was nothing Buck wanted more than to go home, take a shower, and crawl into bed. Well, technically it was still Abby’s house, and it was her shower, and her bed. But that was just semantics, and Buck was too tired for semantics.
All that stood between him and 48-hours off was the walk from the engine bay to the Jeep. Duffel over his shoulder, pep in his step, and—
“Motherfucker,” a voice swore.
“Eddie?” Buck asked, following the sound of the voice to the far corner of the parking lot.
There was more swearing in response, and Buck picked up his pace in case Eddie was hurt. What he found instead was a perfectly intact Eddie Diaz amongst several tightly packed cars.
When the earthquake hit, the crews from B- and C-Shift had come into the station to pitch in. The lot really wasn’t big enough for all of their cars, so it was a tight squeeze. Petey’s station wagon was parked right behind Eddie’s truck, and even if Eddie had wanted to try and make an eight-point turn to get out around it, Julia’s sedan was boxing him in on the other side.
The other crews hadn’t returned to the station with them, and who knew when they would be back.
“Oh, shit,” Buck said.
“Yeah, I gotta go pick up Christopher, what the fuck—” Eddie moved to kick one of Petey’s tires.
Buck rushed forward, pulling Eddie away from the offending vehicle. “Woah, let’s not do something we’ll regret. Broken toes are nothing to laugh at. When I was in high school, I broke three toes in my left foot, and one of them never healed right. I can usually tell when it’s gonna rain because it gets all weird and numb—” Buck cut himself off at the look of outrage on Eddie’s face. “It’s not important.”
Eddie huffed out an annoyed breath and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I guess I gotta get an Uber—”
“Let me drive you.”
Eddie glanced up. Even in the dark, his brown eyes were shining brightly. “What?”
“Let me drive you,” Buck repeated
Eddie shook his head, “I have to go pick up Christopher at his school—”
“That’s fine.” Eddie remained unimpressed. “I mean it! We’ll go to his school and then I’ll drive you both home. It’s not a big deal.”
“If you’re even half as exhausted as I am, you wouldn't want to be chauffeuring us around.”
“I don’t mind, really,” he added at the comical thing Eddie’s eyebrows were doing. “You’re in a tight spot—literally—” Eddie rolled his eyes at the joke, “and I want to meet Christopher anyway.”
“You do?” Eddie’s steely expression wavered for just a moment.
“I told you earlier, I love kids.” Eddie’s eyes narrowed. Buck wondered if he was laying it on a little too thick. “Not in a weird way. Like, a normal amount. I’ve been told that I’m basically a big kid, so maybe it’s a kindred spirit kind of thing—”
“You really don’t mind?”
“No, dude,” Buck grabbed Eddie’s duffel bag, which was just sitting at his feet, slumped over like maybe he had kicked it before Buck had arrived. “We’re partners, right? I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine. No reason not to apply that when we’re not on a call.”
At that, all of Eddie’s resolve seemed to crumble. “Thank you, Buck.”
Buck couldn’t help his grin. “C’mon, I’m parked over there,” he jerked his head to the other side of the lot, his car miraculously not double-parked. Dana’s SUV was a little close to the Jeep on the passenger side, but Buck could just as well pull out of the spot to make enough room for Eddie to get in.
“Let me just grab Chris’ car seat.”
“No worries.”
It took a minute, but Eddie returned victorious with Christopher’s booster seat. “Let’s go,” Eddie said, Buck leading the way across the lot, feeling almost giddy. Altruism would do that to a guy.
Getting the booster seat into the Jeep was another matter entirely. As Buck had suspected, he had to pull out of the stall to make enough room for Eddie to access the passenger side, and he had to wait patiently as the other man swore like a sailor while trying to install the seat properly. Buck offered to help but was promptly ignored.
“Finally,” Eddie sighed with relief, jostling the booster to be sure it wasn’t going to spontaneously pop out again.
Eddie climbed into the front seat, smiling at Buck with unguarded gratitude. It was kind of hard to look at, even in the dim light from the dashboard. “So, uh,” Buck said, shifting the car into gear, “where’re we headed?”
The other man pointed to where Buck’s phone was mounted to the dash. “I can pop the address in there, if you want.”
Buck nodded in assent, unlocking his phone, finding his GPS, and handing it over to Eddie. As he typed, Buck drove towards the exit. Eddie leaned over and set the phone back in the mount.
The streets were pretty empty. Given the late hour and the 7.1 magnitude earthquake twelve hours earlier, Buck wasn’t all that surprised. It also meant that there wasn’t much to distract Buck from Eddie’s silence. He thought about turning on the radio, but Buck figured it would mostly be reports on the earthquake, and he really didn’t need that right now.
It was just that this was the first time he was hanging out with Eddie outside of work. And while Buck had initially been wary of Eddie’s presence at the 118, these last few weeks had been…fun. Eddie fit into their weird little family, and Buck had been enjoying getting to know him.
Clearly, Eddie had been keeping things from the team—like the fact that he had a whole ass kid—in trying to keep some boundaries between his personal life and his work life. And that was fine. Really, it was. But Buck liked Eddie, he wanted to get to know him. So he didn’t want to fuck up this chance to actually be Eddie’s friend, because he wasn’t sure he would get a second one.
Buck rarely got second chances.
“So—” Buck started, not really sure where the sentence was going.
“Did you break all three toes at once?” Eddie asked, cutting him off.
“What?”
“In high school, when you broke three toes in one foot, was that all at one time, or?”
Buck laughed, the sound of it surprising even him. “Uh, yeah. It was at a party in the woods. I tripped over a keg.”
“A party? In the woods?”
“Yeah!” Buck signaled to move over a lane, checking over his shoulder to be sure the lane was clear. “Didn’t your town have some place where generations of underaged kids would party and engage in debauchery?”
Eddie shook his head. “Not that I know of. I wasn’t one of those kids that did that kind of stuff.”
“Drink? Engage in debauchery?”
“Have fun,” Eddie said, sounding a million miles away.
Buck hated the tone in his voice, small and sad and broken.
“At the end of baseball season, we’d get a case of beer from someone’s older brother or something and drink it in the dugout,” he said a few beats later, “that was usually a good time. Not really debaucherous, though.”
“Ah, you did that on your own time, huh?” Buck said, the words spilling out of his mouth unbidden.
God, Buck was such an idiot. Less than five minutes alone with this man and he was already making an ass of himself. Again.
He’d probably have to quit the LAFD. Yeah, he could move to a different firehouse, but Buck knew that they would never compare to the 118, so why even bother? He’d be better off just going completely off the grid, he’d done it before. There were still a million odd jobs out there that he could try. Skydiving instructor. Nude model. Park ranger.
“What?” Eddie asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Well, in for a penny…
“I’m not an idiot, you know. I can do basic math. Seven years and nine months ago you were clearly getting your debauchery on.”
Buck was going to throw himself off a bridge.
Eddie just laughed, shaking his head in incredulity. “Jesus, Buckley.”
A feeling of relief washed over Buck, maybe he didn’t have to pack a bag and fly to Costa Rica to become a zip line operator just yet. “I just call it like I see it, Diaz.”
They joked back and forth the rest of the drive, Eddie bemoaning the drivers of LA as they hit a bit of traffic near Chris’ school. Buck, who saw himself as an Angelino through and through took it upon himself to defend this great city.
It was like Buck’s chronic putting-his-foot-in-his-mouth disease had broken the dam. So much so that Buck might even wager that they were friends.
“It’s the next driveway, just past the—yeah,” Eddie said, pointing up ahead. Buck followed his instructions, pulling into the lot of the elementary school. Eddie directed him to the drop-off area, climbing out of the car before Buck had come to a complete stop.
Eddie raced to the open doors, sweeping Chris up in a hug as soon as he was in arms reach. Buck watched on, entranced by this precious moment between father and son. It was simple, really, a hug and a kiss to the forehead. But it felt like more. It was a reunion.
It was salvation.
Eddie picked Christopher up, swinging him in a circle, crutches and all. Buck could hear the kid’s whooping laughter; unrestrained joy.
Buck felt a smile stretch across his face watching Eddie set Christopher back on his own two feet, kneeling to speak with him for a moment. Eddie jerked his head towards the Jeep, Christopher following his eyeline.
Without really thinking it through, Buck shut the car off and climbed out of the Jeep. For some reason, Buck felt that this was important, that this moment—parked in the pick-up lane of an elementary school, twelve hours after it felt like the world was going to end—was monumental. Like his life would be invariably changed by this meeting.
Eddie picked Christopher up again, tucking the crutches over one arm as he carried his son out towards the parking lot. Buck rounded the front of the Jeep, meeting the Diazes on the pavement.
“Hey there, Christopher,” Buck said, grinning at the sandy haired kid in Eddie’s arms. “I’m Buck, I work with your dad.”
Christopher nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, he said you’re driving us home?”
“Car trouble,” Eddie confirmed.
“It worked out for me, because I really wanted to meet you.”
“You did?” Christopher looked pleased, if not a little surprised.
“Of course I did! I’ve been hanging out with your dad all these weeks so I could get an in with you. You’re clearly the cooler Diaz.”
Christopher giggled, pressing his face into his dad’s neck as he laughed. Even Eddie couldn’t hide his smile, though he paired it with an eye roll.
“I think you’re right,” Christopher said, still laughing.
“I know I’m right,” Buck affirmed, proffering a fist for Christopher to bump. The kid looked to his dad for confirmation, Eddie nodding in assent, before he reached out and tapped Buck’s knuckles with his own. Buck pulled his hand away, making an explosion noise that made Christopher’s face light up even more, if that was even possible. He made a similar sound, wiggling his fingers as he pulled his hand back.
Buck met Eddie’s gaze over Christopher’s head. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the other man’s expression.
“C’mon, buddy,” Eddie said at last, patting Christopher twice on the back, “let’s get you home.”
Buck and Christopher shared a conspiratorial smile before he turned around and lead the way to the car, opening the back door for Eddie before rounding the back of the Jeep to get into the driver’s seat. Eddie efficiently buckled Christopher in, laying his crutches in the footwell below. Buck turned the car on as Eddie climbed into the passenger seat.
“This is a cool car,” Christopher said as both Buck and Eddie buckled their seatbelts.
“Thanks, little man.”
“What about my truck?” Eddie asked turning to look at his son in the backseat. “Don’t you think it’s cool too?”
Christopher shrugged. “I guess. But Buck’s car has more leg room,” he kicked out his legs as evidence, the tips of his sneakers barely brushing the back of Eddie’s seat.
“So much room for activities,” Buck joked, catching Eddie’s eye.
The other man huffed out a laugh. “He’s a little young to get that reference.”
Buck just a waived a hand in dismissal before grabbing his phone and passing it to Eddie. “Put in your address,” he said, shifting the car into gear and driving towards the exit. “So, Chris,” he glanced up in the rearview mirror to catch Christopher’s eye, “you’re seven, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That means you’re in second grade?” Chris nodded. “That’s cool, I loved second grade.” Eddie handed Buck his phone back, his GPS mapping out the quickest route to the Diaz house. Buck set his phone in the mount attached to the dashboard.
“Really?” Christopher asked.
Buck pulled out on to the main road. “Yeah! I had a great teacher; her name was Mrs. Parks. I remember that we did a unit on the Amazon Rainforest where we were each assigned an animal to do a research project on, and then we got to present it to the whole class.”
“What animal did you get?”
“The Amazon River dolphin. They’re pink.”
“Woah!” that seemed to perk Chris up. “Why’re they pink?”
“Well, they’re born gray, like sea dolphins, but they turn pink as they get older as the top layer of their skin rubs off. It’s more common in the males than the females, actually.”
“See Dad,” Chris chimed in, “I told you pink wasn’t a girl color.”
“I agreed with you, didn’t I?” Eddie asked, turning in his seat to address Christopher. As he turned forward, he said to Buck, “I’ve had to un-learn some problematic gender politics recently,” a grin pulling at his mouth.
“Ah,” Buck replied, merging over a lane.
"Why are the males more pink?" Christopher asked.
“I think it's because the males fight more than the females, and that rubs off some of the color. But I think it might also have something to do with their diets,” Buck added, though the details were kind of hazy.
“Like flamingos!” Christopher interjected. “They’re pink ‘cause they eat lots of shrimp.”
“Exactly,” Buck said, turning left as the light turned green. “The dolphins probably also eat a lot of shrimp. I don’t remember everything I did my report on, it’s been a hot minute since I was in second grade.”
“That’s alright,” Chris said, not sounding even a little disappointed. “What other animals did people present on?”
“Uh,” Buck searched his memory. “I think my best friend did a report on a lizard that could run on water.”
“Really? That sounds cool.”
“Yeah, there are lots of cool animals that live in the Amazon. Anacondas, toucans, two-toed sloths, and poisonous frogs. It has one of the highest rates of biodiversity of anywhere in the world.”
“Bio-side-versity?” Christopher asked, the words foreign in his mouth.
“Bio-di-versity,” Eddie corrected gently.
Buck felt himself flush, he had momentarily forgotten he was talking to a seven-year-old for god’s sake. “It’s just a big fancy word scientists use to describe the variety of life on the planet. Like,” Buck searched for a child-friendly way to explain it. “You know how there aren’t just one kind of dolphin, right? There’s bottlenoses and spinners—”
“And pink river dolphins,” Chris cut in.
“Exactly. Well, it’s important that we have all those different kinds of dolphins because they each play an important role in their ecosystems. Same goes for plants. There are like 500 different species of just oak trees, but we still don’t want any of them to go extinct.”
“What about insects?” Christopher asked.
“They’re part of biodiversity as well.”
“Cool,” Buck chanced a glance up at the review mirror as he stopped at a red light, catching Christopher’s delighted expression.
“Enough about me,” Buck said. “What’s your favorite animal?”
Chris made a thoughtful noise. Clearly this was a question that required a lot of deep thought. After a few moments he said, “it’s a tie between snow leopards and red pandas.”
“Ooh, both are good options. You know,” Buck said, an idea popping into his head, “the LA zoo actually has a snow leopard.”
“Really?” Chris was practically vibrating in his seat with excitement, Buck couldn’t help the smile it brought to his face.
As the light turned green, Buck said. “Yeah, maybe we could go to there sometime. You, me, and your dad.”
“Can we, Dad?” Chris asked, begged really. Buck had his full attention on the road, but he could imagine the kind of puppy dog eyes Chris was pulling out behind those thick-rimmed glasses. “Please?”
“I don’t know if they took any damage in the earthquake,” Eddie said gently. “It might be a while before they're open again."
The disappointment was clear in Chris’ voice as he said, “okay,” on a sigh.
Something in Buck’s chest tightened as he turned on to a quiet residential street. “We’re just up ahead, on the right,” Eddie said, pointing to the little bungalow.
Buck nodded and slowed to a stop outside the house, shifting the car into park. He turned in his seat to flash Chris a smile. “We’ve arrived at your destination, good sir.” Chris giggled effusively, kicking his feet again.
“Thanks for the ride, Buck,” Eddie said, climbing out of the passenger seat. He appeared in the back a few moments later, pulling Chris’ crutches out first before unbuckling his son. “Say goodbye,” he told Chris.
Buck held his fist out for Chris to bump, getting caught off-guard by the way the seven-year-old wrapped both arms around the back of Buck's seat in a hug instead. There wasn't much Buck could do in the way of returning the embrace, try as he might, so he just had to settle for a pat on Chris' shoulder and an experimental ruffle of his golden curls.
Chris pulled away, million-watt smile on his face. “Thanks, Buck. It was nice meeting you.”
“You too, Chris,” Buck replied, a little breathless.
Eddie helped Chris clamber out of the car and into his crutches. “You head on up, I gotta grab your booster.”
“Okay, Dad,” Chris replied. “Bye Buck!” he called over his shoulder as he started up the front walk.
“Bye!” Buck called out, hopefully not too loud as to disturb the neighbors. God knows it was a rough day for everyone.
Buck turned to watch Eddie wrestle with the booster seat, only swearing a little bit under his breath as he did so. “Finally,” he sighed, sliding the seatbelt out from the plastic seat. He tucked it under one arm and said, “thank you again, you’re a life—are you okay?” he asked, presumably at the expression on Buck’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Buck said.
Eddie’s dark brows furrowed. “Sorry? For giving us a ride?”
Buck shook his head. “No, no, for overstepping.”
“Overstepping?” Eddie sounded incredulous. “Buck what the hell are you talking about?”
“The zoo thing. I shouldn’t have invited myself to hang out with you guys.”
Eddie’s mouth was open, but no words came out, his face a complicated, unreadable mix of emotions. “Buck,” he said at last, checking over his shoulder to make sure Chris was making it up to the door okay. “You didn’t overstep.”
The knot in Buck’s chest loosened an inch. “I didn’t?” he hated the undisguised hope in his voice.
“No. It’s just that when Chris gets excited about something he can be kind of…” he trailed off, thinking. “Intense about it. And I don’t want him asking if we can go to the zoo every day for the next month. I’ll lose my mind.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. We’re still working on practicing patience,” he said with a rueful smile.
Buck felt the knot unravel completely. “Okay. Good.”
Eddie nodded. “Once they’ve opened back up and we’ve both got the day off, we can take him. But you’re driving.”
A laugh bubbled out of Buck’s chest, unbidden. “Are you ever going to get over the LA drivers?”
“Absolutely not, you people drive like maniacs.”
“Da-ad!” Chris called from the front door, impatient.
“Coming, buddy!” Eddie called back. To Buck, he said, “thank you again, you saved my ass back there.”
“It’s no problem, Eds,” Buck felt himself color at the nickname that just spilled off of his tongue, but he refused to comment on it. “And let me know if you want me to take you to the station tomorrow to pick up your truck, I really don’t mind. Just, at least let me sleep in ‘till, like, ten.”
Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Clearly you've never lived with a seven-year-old. I’ll probably be better off having my tía drive me.”
Buck laughed, “yeah, that’s probably for the best.” There was more commotion from the front door of Eddie’s house. “You should go, before he mutinies.”
Eddie chuckled, his hand on the door. “Goodnight, Buck.”
“G’night, Eddie.”
Eddie shut the door soundly, hurrying up the front walk to the house. Buck watched as he ruffled Chris’ hair before unlocking the door. He waited until both the Diaz boys were safely inside before he shifted the Jeep into drive and pulled away from the curb, towards Abby’s empty house.
Alone again.
“I gotta get gas,” Eddie said as his truck roared to life, turning to look at Christopher, his hand on Buck’s seat. “But then it’s a straight shot to the beach. You ready, mijo?”
“Yeah!” Christopher cheered.
“Good,” Eddie nodded decisively, shifting the truck into reverse and pulling out of the driveway.
Today the beaches of Los Angeles County officially reopened after the tsunami that destroyed the Santa Monica Pier. Eddie had gotten it in his head somewhere that it was important that Christopher get back in the ocean as soon as possible so as not to let any fear of the water grow and fester.
Buck was decidedly less on board with the idea. Not that Chris shouldn’t get back in the water, Buck had total faith in Eddie’s parenting decisions, but he wasn’t quite so sure that he was ready to face the ocean again.
The water crashing into the pier, losing his grip on Christopher again and again. Walking miles and miles through LA as the water receded, trying to find him—
Buck didn’t want to be afraid, but cowardice was so much easier than bravery.
Eddie pulled into the closest gas station, parking next to an empty pump. He shut the car off and grabbed his wallet, “I’ll just be a minute,” he told Christopher, giving Buck a silent nod before climbing out of the truck.
Buck watched him walk over to the mini mart. Eddie was one of those weirdos who insisted on paying for gas in cash. Sure, the discount was nice—ten cents off the gallon really added up—but Buck never remembered to stop at an ATM before the warning light turned on.
“Hey Buck?” Christopher asked from the backseat.
Buck turned to look at him, the seatbelt cutting into his neck uncomfortably. “What’s up, buddy?”
“Can you grab my shoe? It fell off.” He pointed down towards the footwell where there was, indeed, a rogue flip flop amongst Chris’ crutches.
“Of course,” Buck unbuckled his seat belt before leaning over to grab the errant shoe, sliding it back on to Christopher’s foot. “You’re, uh, excited to go the beach, yeah?”
“Uh-uh,” Chris replied, nudging his foot against Buck’s hand in thanks.
Buck squeezed his ankle. “Good. That’s—yeah, that’s good.”
“Aren’t you excited?” Christopher asked after a beat.
Curse this wonderfully observant and exceedingly curious kid. What had Buck done in a past life to deserve this?
“Uh,” Buck said, watching as Eddie held the door to the mini mart open for a group of middle schoolers racing for the ICEE machine. “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, turning back to look at Christopher.
A smile stretched across his face, Christopher nodding effusively. “You can trust me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Even your dad?” Buck countered just as Eddie rounded the truck, prying open the fuel door and unscrewing the gas cap.
“Dad says I only have to tell him secrets if I think that the other person is in danger. You’re not in danger, are you?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
Chris nodded solemnly, “then I won’t tell Dad.”
Buck sighed, steeling himself. “The idea of going back in the ocean is still pretty scary to me.”
Christopher’s brows furrowed. “It is?”
He nodded in assent. “Yeah. That day on the pier was probably the worst day of my life.”
Chris’ expression immediately fell. “It was?”
Fuck. Buck was an idiot sometimes. “Not the part where we were hanging out, obviously. That part was great.” Buck watched some of the fear disappear from his face, replaced by confusion. “But the tsunami, losing you—” Buck took a steadying breath. “That was really scary.”
“It was scary for me, too.”
“I bet. The problem is, I’m still scared.”
“If you’re scared,” Chris started, “why are you coming to the beach with us?”
Buck sighed, searching for an answer where there wasn’t one. After a few beats, he said, “I guess I don’t want to be afraid anymore.” He glanced at Eddie through the window, his sunglasses on as he pumped gas. Buck looked back over at Chris. “The bravest guy I know is ready to get back in the ocean, so it’s probably time that I’m ready too.”
“Dad?” Christopher guessed.
Buck chuckled and shook his head, “no, silly,” he squeezed Christopher’s ankle again. “You. We lost each other that day. It was scary for both of us. But if you’re ready to face your fears, so am I. You’re the bravest person I know, Chris.”
“Really?” he asked, not quite sure.
“Really. You’re like—” Buck took a moment to think, “Superman. Brave, resilient,” a smile started curve across Chris’ mouth. “Intelligent, adorable—” Buck tickled the bottom of Christopher’s foot, eliciting a delighted giggle. Buck doubled his efforts.
He was distracted by Chris’ laughter to miss Eddie putting the gas pump away and climbing back into the cab. “What’s going on here?” Eddie asked.
“Nothing,” Buck replied, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Chris. As he withdrew his hand, he knocked Christopher’s flip flop back off. “Whoops, lemme grab that.” It had lodged itself under one of Chris’ crutches. Chris’ new crutches, the ones he had to get after the tsunami swept the old ones away. Eddie had to get him new glasses too, his last pair too scratched up to be useful anymore—
Buck took a deep breath. He slipped the shoe back on Christopher’s foot. They weren’t stuck in the undertow; water wasn’t rushing into his lungs. He was safe. Christopher was safe.
There’s nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you.
He looked up to see Chris smiling at him. “There you go, Superman.”
“Superman? I thought that was our thing?” Eddie asked.
Buck just shrugged. Eddie glanced in the backseat to try and get an answer out of Chris, who just giggled and said nothing. “Ugh, fine. Buckle up,” he directed to Buck.
“Y’know,” Buck said as he pulled the seat belt back across his chest. “I like the new crutches, but I think we should jazz them up a bit.”
“What did you have in mind?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the lot.
“Glitter?” Buck suggested. Chris barked out a laugh from the back seat.
Eddie shot Buck a dirty look. “Absolutely not.”
“Fine. What about rhinestones?” He glanced up at the rearview mirror to see Chris shake his head. Buck gave it another moment of thought before he was hit with a flash of genius. “I know what we should do, we should add some reflective strips, like the ones we have on our turnouts.”
“That would be awesome!” Chris exclaimed from the backseat. “Can we, Dad?”
They slowed to a stop at a red light, Eddie turning to Buck, an unreadable expression on his face. “There’s a box of old turnouts in the storage closet at the station,” Buck said, feeling pinned by Eddie’s expression. “I’m sure Bobby wouldn’t mind if we took one.”
“Dad?” Chris asked again.
The expression melted off of Eddie’s face, turning forward again just as the light turned green. “Yeah,” Buck was sure that the flash of Eddie’s gaze over to him was just a trick of the light. “That sounds like a great idea.”
They’re only a few minutes out from the Diaz house when Buck finally gathers up the courage to turn down the radio—Top 40, of course, Chris was always complaining that Eddie only ever listened to NPR because he was actually 75 years old—and say, “hey, Christopher. Can I talk to you about something?”
Christopher, who had been mumbling along to the words to that damn cowboy rap song, just said, “sure, Buck.”
“I—uh,” Buck started. Even though he had been agonizing over this conversation for day now, he wasn’t really sure where he should start. “Did you have fun today?” he asked at last.
“I always have fun when we go to the zoo,” Chris replied automatically.
Buck felt himself smile, despite his anxiety. “Good. Me too, by the way,” he added, giving Chris a smile in the review mirror. Buck glanced away before he said, “I know it’s been a while since we’ve hung out.”
It was in fact the first time since the lawsuit that Buck had been allowed to spend time with Christopher one-on-one. He had only just started back up at the 118, had only just earned back the trust of his team.
His family.
Those long weeks of litigation had been heartbreakingly lonely. Buck hadn’t just lost his sense of purpose; he had lost his best friends and the father he always wish he’d had. Feeling powerless and disillusioned, Buck felt like the only thing he could do was fight back and sue the department.
But it had been a mistake. It took Eddie yelling at him in a grocery store to see that.
“I just,” he paused, thinking. “You know that it had nothing to do with you, right? Me being gone?”
“I know,” Chris replied.
Buck felt some relief, but the knot of anxiety in his chest still felt like a vise. “I just really wanted to be a firefighter at the 118 again, enough that I did something really stupid,” he laughed humorlessly at himself, at how foolish he had been. “I didn’t think how it might affect you, but I should have, because you’re one of the most important people in my life. So, I just want to apologize, for doing something so stupid and selfish that it almost cost me my best friend.” There was a beat, “that’s you, by the way. If the whole speech hadn’t made that obvious.” He rolled to a stop at a red light, and Buck turned in his seat to say directly to Christopher’s face, “I’m sorry, Chris.”
Chris was quiet for a few moments. Long enough for the truck behind them to beep at Buck for taking too long. “It’s okay,” he said, after the car was moving again. “I forgive you.”
Buck breathed out a sigh of relief, but he did not cry because that would be silly. “Yeah?” he replied, voice shaky.
“Yeah.”
Like it was that easy. God, this kid was an angel.
“I wouldn’t hold it against you if you needed more time,” Buck said, “your dad was pretty mad at me. I had to practically throw myself at his feet to get him to forgive—”
“Dad wasn’t mad at you,” Chris cut in.
That gave Buck pause. “Are you sure? Because I have a whole grocery store of witnesses that would say otherwise.”
You’re exhausting, Eddie had said. Twisted the knife further when he followed it up with do you know how much Christopher misses you? How could you? Because you’re not around.
So yeah. Eddie had been pretty mad.
“He wasn’t mad at you. He told me himself, and Dad never lies to me.”
It was true. Eddie did everything he could to be as honest and straightforward with Christopher as possible. He knew that so many people tried to coddle the kid thinking that Chris couldn’t handle or understand the truth. It was one of the most admirable things about Eddie’s parenting.
“He missed you,” Christopher said when Buck didn't respond. “That’s what he told me. That he was sad and that he was mad that he couldn’t tell you that he was sad.”
Buck couldn’t really comprehend what Christopher was saying, it was so at odds with how Buck perceived those lonely weeks during the lawsuit. Dozens of unanswered texts and screened calls. That day at the grocery store was when everything had come to a head, but it had also been Buck’s breaking point.
What Christopher was saying contradicted all of that. If he was to be believed—and Buck would always believe Christopher—Eddie hadn’t been upset with Buck.
He had been heartbroken.
It was all too much to think about when Buck was supposed to be focusing on the road. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, as he turned on to Eddie’s street, driving the familiar path to the Diaz house mostly on autopilot.
Eddie was waiting on the sidewalk in front of the house, smiling brightly when he spotted the Jeep. Buck pulled over, rolling to a stop in front of him and shifting the car into park. As Christopher unbuckled himself in the back seat, Buck rolled down the window on the passenger side so Eddie could poke his head in.
“Did you boys have fun?” he asked, the question mostly poised to Buck who still couldn’t quite find his voice.
Luckily for Buck, Christopher had no such qualms. “Yeah!” he cheered from the backseat, “we got to see the baby rhino. Finally,” Chris added pointedly. The baby rhino had been born while Buck had been No Contact with the 118.
Buck ignored the pang of guilt. “He was super cute,” he said, turning to smile at Christopher who was leaning on the console between the front seats.
“I’m sure you got a million photos,” Eddie joked, grinning at Buck. He looked soft and well-rested, and Buck would put good money on betting that he had just woken up from a nap.
Buck felt something warm in his chest at the thought. Eddie trusted him so implicitly that he was relaxed enough to take a nap while Buck was galivanting all over Los Angeles with Christopher. After the tsunami and the lawsuit, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t Buck-ed this whole thing up yet.
Buck wasn’t going to mess this up again. He had been given a second chance; he wasn’t going to need a third.
Christopher was recounting the rest of their zoo adventure to his dad as he climbed out of the car. Buck watched Eddie sweep Christopher up into a hug, pressing a kiss to his golden curls. With Christopher on his hip, Eddie leaned back into the open window and Buck steeled himself for the goodbye—
“Are you gonna turn the car off, or what?” Eddie asked.
“Huh?”
“It’s almost dinner time. I’ve already ordered the pizzas—”
“What are you talking about?” Buck asked, confused.
Eddie’s eyes narrowed, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “It’s movie night.”
“Movie night!” Chris whooped in delight.
“Movie night,” Buck repeated, that warm feeling from before spreading. “Right.”
“C’mon, Buckley,” Eddie said, stepping back from the window, grinning in that way that always made Buck smile in return, “daylight’s wasting.”
Buck was no stranger to the school pick up line. He knew all the tips and tricks to get a good spot in line, usually timing his arrival at Chris’ school so perfectly that he spent most of the wait for dismissal in the shade of the mimosa trees lining the street. Buck was familiar with all the teachers who rotated through pick up duty, even if they hadn’t taught Christopher, and he recognized most of the cars, waving at the shameless Stay-at-Home-Moms who always flirted with him and Eddie regardless of their marital status.
But today was not a typical school pick up day, one where he might take Christopher out for ice cream before bringing him home, sitting Chris down at the kitchen table to work on his homework while Buck got started on making dinner. No, today Buck was running late enough that he was able to pull the car right up to the curb, the usual crowd of children dwindled down to the last few stragglers.
Christopher spotted the car quickly and as he ambled towards the Jeep, Buck unlocked the doors and waived to the teacher supervising the pick-up lane today—Mrs. Medina, fifth grade math—as she opened the back door. Buck turned in his seat at the clattering of the crutches in the footwell, grinning at Chris as he climbed into the backseat.
“Hey, buddy!” Buck cheered.
Usually, Christopher couldn’t contain his excitement when he saw Buck. In the four years that Buck had known him, he could count the number of times Christopher had been apathetic to Buck’s presence on zero hands.
(He totally didn’t have an ego about it)
So when all that Chris said as he settled into his seat was a quiet, “hi, Buck,” Buck knew that something was terribly wrong.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, brows furrowing together in concern. Chris shrugged noncommittally, turning his head to look out the window, not meeting Buck’s gaze.
As much as Buck wanted to get to the bottom of this problem immediately, they were in the school pick up lane, and there was suddenly a line of cars behind them who were eager to pick up their own kids. So Buck checked that Chris was properly buckled in before pulling away from the curb.
As he drove towards the exit, Buck took a few moments to consider his options. He couldn’t say that he was surprised by Chris’ surliness, it was only a few nights ago that he had called Buck as Eddie took a baseball bat to his bedroom.
Calming Chris down in the immediate wake of Eddie’s breakdown had been difficult enough. Getting him into pajamas and into bed when Chris had been nearly shaking with worry broke Buck’s heart a million times over. He had looked so small and scared, tucked up to the chin in his constellation-printed sheets. Buck made the decision to crawl into the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around Christopher and staying with him until he’d drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Since Eddie had left the 118, Buck had been too consumed by the Lucy-Taylor-I’m-too-afraid-to-admit-I-kissed-another-girl-will-you-move-in-with-me? drama to notice just how much his best friend had been struggling. Maybe if Buck hadn’t been too self-absorbed with his own interpersonal woes, he could’ve—
No, there wasn’t anything he could have done to prevent this, not in any meaningful way. Eddie’s entire platoon was gone, it would’ve been concerning if he hadn’t had an emotional reaction to that. But Buck could’ve been there. He could have been a sounding board for Eddie’s fears and frustrations. Could have pulled him into an embrace, shaking and terrified, before the aftershocks of this revelation could touch Christopher.
Buck hadn’t been there before, but he could be there now.
Instead of going back to the loft after his shift, Buck stopped at the Ralphs on the way to the Diaz house to pick up ingredients for dinner—Abuela’s recipe for chicken enchiladas with homemade tomatillo salsa—only to find Eddie still asleep on the couch. Carla, the angel that she was, had done the morning drop-off, but the house was still a bit of a mess.
(Eddie’s bedroom notwithstanding)
So Buck tackled the laundry piling up in the bathroom and the dishes left in the sink and the wilted vegetables at the back at the fridge all before Eddie woke up. The elder Diaz stumbled into the kitchen at around 11:30, accepting Buck’s proffered ham and cheese sandwich with a ghost of a smile.
They didn’t speak much as Buck herded Eddie into the Jeep and drove him to Frank’s office. Buck dropped him off and then promptly raced across town to pick up Chris from school, hoping to find a more willing conversationalist in the younger Diaz, but alas…
“How was school today?” he asked once they had made it out on to the main road. “You guys were doing that lab in science class, right? With the microscopes?”
“Yeah,” Chris replied, morose.
“What did you guys look at?”
“We used a Q-Tip to collect cheek cells.”
“That’s so cool!” Buck knew that he probably didn’t need to lay it on quite so thick, but this whole situation made him feel pretty helpless. He couldn’t fix Eddie, he couldn’t make Chris un-see his father’s breakdown, but he could at least make Chris smile. “Did you see any cool superhero mutations in your DNA?”
There was a beat.
“Like in—” Buck started.
“Is Dad mad at me?” Christopher asked.
Buck felt the fake smile fall off his face, his stomach twisting in knots. “Buddy,” Buck angled the rearview mirror down so he could look at Chris in a way that wouldn’t immediately result in them causing a ten-car pileup. Christopher, who was usually full of gregarious energy, was curled in on himself in the backseat, more miserable than Buck had ever seen him. “Chris, of course your dad isn’t mad at you. Why would you think that?”
“Because I’m the reason that he’s not a firefighter anymore. I’m the reason he destroyed his bedroom. I’m the reason he has to go to therapy.”
Buck’s heart broke into a million tiny pieces. He wasn’t surprised that Christopher, with his too-big heart and his instinctual empathy, would think that Eddie’s pain was some result of his actions. He was wrong, of course. Buck had it on good authority that Eddie never saw Christopher as anything less than his salvation, as the thing that brought him back from the edge time and time again.
Buck wasn’t going to say that, of course, it was kind of a lot to put on an eleven-year-old. But he could quell Chris’ fears that his concern for his father’s safety had caused Eddie’s spiral.
“None of that is true.” Chris started to interrupt, but Buck cut him off. This was important. “Buddy, you have no reason to feel guilty for any of this, okay? Your dad chose to leave the 118, and he chose to go back to therapy to deal with the bad things that have happened in his life—none of which have anything to do with you. He loves you more than anything in this world, and he’s just trying to be the best dad possible for you.”
“But he did all of that stuff because I told him that I was scared that he was gonna die,” Chris replied, sounding small and hopeless. “He did it because of me.”
“Chris, you know better than anyone that no one tells your dad what to do, not even you. If he didn’t think leaving the 118 and going back to therapy wasn’t the best choice for both of you, he wouldn’t have done it.”
There was a beat before Chris asked, “what about his bedroom?”
Buck sighed. Right, the bedroom.
He wasn’t sure what, if anything, Eddie had told his son about why he took a baseball bat to his bedroom two nights ago. Chris had heard the story of how Eddie had received his Silver Star, but Buck knew that it was an abridged version appropriate for third graders. His breakdown the other night was another thing altogether, but it had even less to do with Christopher than Eddie leaving the 118 and returning to his sessions with Frank.
“You know how your dad got his Silver Star, right?”
“Yeah,” Chris replied, confusion coloring his voice. “When he was in the Army, his team was under enemy fire, but he was able to save them.”
“Right,” Buck took a steadying breath, “that experience was really scary for him, and even though it resulted in him earning a medal and being able to come back home, he never really dealt with it. It would be like if you hadn’t gone to see Dr. Lim after the tsunami, you’d probably still be waking up every night with nightmares.”
“I guess.”
“So now that your dad is finally talking to Frank about what happened in Afghanistan all that scary stuff came back to him, and all that time that he didn’t deal with the pain just made it worse.”
“And that’s why he smashed up his bedroom?” Christopher asked.
“That’s why he smashed up his bedroom,” Buck confirmed. “And it’s not your fault that he’s only dealing with it now, okay? This is just part of the healing process.” They were only a few minutes away from Frank’s office, and Buck wanted to give Chris some sense of closure, so he took a minute to compose himself.
“I know that seeing him like that the other night was scary for you. It was scary for me too, but he’s trying to get better. Better for you, and better for himself. As much as he wants to come back to the 118, your dad knows that he wouldn’t be a very good firefighter right now. But he’s going to get better.”
“Promise?”
Buck knew better than to make promises he couldn’t keep, that was one of the first things they taught at the Academy. But this didn’t seem like one of those promises. Eddie was going to get better, no ifs ands or buts about it.
They pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex Frank’s practice was in. Buck parked the Jeep in the loading zone and turned around in his seat. “I’ll do you one better,” he said, holding out his pinky, “I pinky promise that your dad's going to be okay.”
Buck had done this before, made a pinky promise to Christopher, and he had imparted the weight of such an oath in the same way that Maddie did all those years ago. He only whipped them out in truly dire situations so that Chris knew that he was committed to keeping his promise.
Chris leaned forward, taking Buck’s pinky in his own. Buck continued, “it might take a long time, and he might not ever be fully healed, but he’s going to get better.”
Chris nodded and tightened his hold on Buck’s finger for a moment before dropping his hand. “Thank you, Buck.”
Buck ruffled Chris’ hair, earning him an exasperated laugh. “Love you, kid.”
“Love you too.”
At that, Eddie appeared through the automatic doors, scanning the lot. He looked tired and drained, but he’d looked no better when Buck dropped him off an hour ago, so it probably wasn’t cause for concern. When Eddie finally found the Jeep, Buck was surprised to see a smile stretch across his face.
A smile Buck hadn’t seen in a long, long time.
As Eddie walked towards them, Buck felt frozen under Eddie’s gaze. So much so that he forgot to unlock the doors to the Jeep, causing Eddie to almost fall backwards when he pulled too forcefully on the handle.
There was a beat, and Eddie tried again, the smile on his face being replaced with a look of annoyance.
Like a spell being broken, Buck snapped out of his daze. But instead of unlocking the doors, he rolled down the window. “Hi,” he said, a shit-eating grinning curving at his mouth, “I’m looking for an Eddie Diaz? Dark hair, brown eyes. About five foot eleven and surly looking?”
“Ha ha,” Eddie deadpanned, pulling on the door again. “I’m not surly.”
“So you agree, you’re five foot eleven?”
Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but the response died on his tongue as his gaze slid over to his impressionable pre-teen son in the backseat. “I’m six feet,” he said with a glare before he turned his attention to Christopher. “Hey, buddy.”
“Hi Dad,” Chris replied cheerfully. Say what you will about being eleven, but kids that age bounced back remarkably quickly.
“How was school?”
“Good, we got to look at our cheek cells under a microscope.”
Eddie’s expression softened. “That’s awesome, did you find any cool superhero mutations?”
“I asked the same thing!” Buck chimed in.
Chris just rolled his eyes. “No, you can’t see DNA with a microscope.” The duh went unsaid.
“That’s too bad,” Eddie reached through the open window to unlock the door from the inside, but Buck had been anticipating that move, hitting the button to lock the doors again before Eddie could open it. “Hey!”
It had been a truly terrible 48-or-so-hours. From getting the call from a panicked Christopher, to breaking down the door to Eddie’s bedroom. Then there was the morning after, and then his shift at the station, and the image of Eddie curled up on his side on the couch, deep purple shadows under his eyes, despite however many hours of sleep he’d had. Buck was tired, he was scared, and he felt helpless.
But this was a bright spot. Chris was laughing in the backseat; Eddie was fake glowering at him from outside the passenger door. For a moment, it felt like they had gone back to normal, like they had gone back in time before all of this terribleness. When it was just Buck and the Diaz boys against the world.
He didn’t want to lose that again so soon.
“I’m not letting you in unless you agree to go get ice cream right now.” Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “My treat of course,” Buck added.
In the back seat, Chris was barely containing his excitement at the prospect of ice cream, and Buck didn’t have to look to know that he was pulling out those deadly puppy dog eyes. Eddie’s gaze slid from Buck to Christopher and back again.
“Well, if you’re paying…” he said, putting on an air of reluctance. “Fine, we can go get ice cream.”
Chris cheered and Buck unlocked the doors at last, Eddie pulling on the handle before Buck could lock him out again.
(Buck had definitely been considering it. Eddie knew him too well)
As Chris chattered on about the rest of his day at school, Eddie caught Buck’s eye, whispering a quiet, “thank you,” with a squeeze of Buck’s wrist.
Buck tucked a smile into his chest, shifting the car out of park. “Any time, Eds,” he pulled away from the curb and towards the exit. “Any time.”
“I don’t know why he insists that he doesn’t snore,” Buck said at the particularly loud snuffle from the backseat.
Chris, from the passenger side, snorted and said, “sometimes, he falls asleep with his door open on accident and I can hear him snoring from my room.”
“You’re lucky. I can usually hear it through the closed door from the couch,” Buck countered.
They were driving back from San Diego, the sun setting to their left, the sky dashed with pinks and reds and golds. It had been a long summer without Christopher, and Buck felt like a little piece of his soul that had been missing for almost three months had finally returned to him.
To celebrate Chris’ triumphant return to the West Coast, Buck had planned a day trip for the two of them to see the red pandas at the San Diego Zoo. It was something Buck wanted to do with Christopher since their very first trip they took to the LA Zoo all those years ago, back when Chris was just a goofy, gregarious seven-year-old. It had taken six years, and Buck worried that Christopher was maybe a little too old to really enjoy it, but it had been the perfect day.
Minus the snoring Diaz in the backseat.
Once Chris had finally forgiven his father, Eddie had flown to El Paso for a few days to collect his son. He’d had to switch a couple of shifts around to do it, which meant that he was coming right off of a twenty-four when they left for San Diego that morning. Buck and Christopher insisted that Eddie didn’t have to come, that he should use his twenty-four hours off to rest before he was back on A-shift tomorrow, but the older Diaz was having none of it. He had gone nearly three months without seeing his son, he wasn’t going to let him out of his sight just yet.
When Buck picked Eddie up at the station that morning, B-shift coming off of an early-morning pile up on the 101, he climbed into the backseat of the Jeep and promptly fell asleep. He’d been in good spirits once they'd arrived at the zoo, though he required a near-constant source of caffeine to stay upright. At the end of the day, Eddie granted Christopher the shotgun seat once more, falling asleep before the zoo had even left their rearview mirror.
It was a long drive back to the Diaz house where the ingredients to Bobby’s famous chili and a movie of Chris’ choice were waiting for them. Buck couldn’t be any happier, his two favorite people in the world safe and sound and close enough to touch.
Buck reached across the center console—he couldn’t believe that Chris was old enough to sit in the front seat, but here he was, riding shotgun—to ruffle Christopher’s hair. “I’m really glad you’re home, you know.”
Chris batted the hand away, but Buck could see the teen’s smile out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, yeah, me too.”
“I missed you so much, kid,” Buck said, “it’s way more fun when you’re around.”
“You only think that because you don’t have a life,” Chris countered.
“Hey! That’s rude,” Buck flicked Christopher’s ear, “I have a life.”
Chris gave him an unimpressed look. “You broke up with Tommy.”
Buck opened his mouth, but promptly shut it again. After a moment, he said, “what makes you think that?”
Christopher shrugged. “You deleted that picture of him off your Instagram.”
“You’re stalking my Instagram now?” Buck asked.
“There’s not that much to do in Texas,” he replied. “Am I wrong? Are you still together?”
He was not wrong. Buck had broken up with Tommy not long after Chris had left for El Paso. It was a truly insane couple of days. Eddie had been a wreck, Bobby and Athena were houseless, Hen and Karen were fighting to get Mara back, Maddie and Chim had become foster parents, and then there was the Captain Gerard of it all. Buck felt like he was being pulled in a million different directions. Something had to give, and that something was his weeks-long relationship with Tommy.
It had been mostly amicable, given the circumstances. Buck was sleeping on Eddie’s couch, in part to keep an eye on his best friend but also because he had offered the loft to Bobby and Athena, at least until they got back on their feet. He really didn’t have time to be dating, he had to get his priorities in order.
And there had been that other thing…
“No, we broke up,” Buck said.
“So I was right, you do need a life.”
“Who’s to say I haven’t been going on dates? Painting the town red? Carousing through the streets of Los Angeles without a care in the world?”
Chris just scoffed, “like you and Dad didn’t just spend every day I was gone moping on the couch.”
That was remarkably accurate to what the first month without Chris had been like, both Buck and Eddie too depressed to do much of anything when they weren’t on shift. Buck had tried to hide it at first as to not let Eddie wallow in his despair, but it was the longest Buck had gone without seeing Christopher since the lawsuit, and he joined in with Eddie’s moping soon enough.
July had been marginally better. Every time one of them was sad about Christopher being gone, they went to the gym. Needless to say, Buck and Eddie really got their money’s worth out of their Gold’s memberships.
“We got a lot done this summer, actually. Your dad built some garden boxes for the back yard, and we fixed the railing on Carla’s porch,” Buck signaled and switched lanes, “plus, they’ve finally started work on Bobby’s and Athena’s new house, and your dad and I have been deputized to their construction crew.”
All those projects had started in August, once Chris had tentatively reached out to his dad again, but Chris didn’t have to know that.
“That all happened after I started talking to Dad again.” Buck couldn’t see the eyeroll, but he could hear it.
Buck decided to switch tactics. He loved Chris to Pluto and back, but the kid was a real know-it-all teenager now. It was time for some good ol’ fashioned dad-guilt. “What did you expect him to do while you were gone? Throw a party every night? Date? You know how well that worked out for him last time.”
Was it too soon to joke about the Kim thing? It was probably too soon to joke about the Kim thing—
Chris just laughed, his head thrown back like he was seven years old again, giggling uncontrollably at all of Buck’s dumbest jokes. “Yeah, that was a disaster.”
“Trust me, your dad has sworn off dating for a while,” Buck assured him.
But Chris’ jovial demeanor dropped, his guard back up. “I didn’t ask him to do that.”
“You didn’t have to,” Buck replied. “But after what happened last time—”
“What if I want him to date again?”
Buck’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He glanced at Christopher askance, the teenager looking totally serious. “What do you mean?”
“What I said,” he shrugged, all casual. “I think he should start dating again.”
“Chris,” Buck implored, “you caught him with a woman who looked like a carbon copy of your mom and then you didn’t speak to him for two months.” He tried to convey the severity of the situation. “Dating is the literal last thing on his mind right now.”
Chris sighed with all the exasperation in his thirteen-year-old body. “We talked about…” he trailed off, thinking. “Her.” Buck couldn’t help but wince. Maybe it was too soon to joke about Kim. “About how after Mom died that he didn’t really ever deal with all of those feelings, and seeing woman who looked like her brought them back up again. He wasn’t in a good place, but he’s doing better now, right? He’s going to therapy, and I forgave him.” Chris picked at the small hole in the knee of his jeans, suddenly chagrined. “So I don’t see why he couldn’t start dating again.”
“I mean, yeah that’s all true, and I’m glad that you’ve forgiven him,” Buck took a moment to take a steadying breath. “But Chris, why do you want him to start dating again?” he asked. Christopher didn’t respond, doubling his effort to tear a hole in his jeans. This wasn’t about altruism, or forgiving Eddie, there was something in particular that Chris wanted. “Is there someone you hope he’ll start seeing?” The words tasted like ash in his mouth.
“Yeah,” Chris said at last. Buck felt his stomach twist into knots. “You.”
It was only thanks to Buck’s incredible first responder reflexes that they didn’t immediately crash into the car in front of them.
“Me?” Buck’s voice came out shrill and tight, incredulous. “Chris, buddy, you know that it’s not like that between your me and your dad. We’re just friends. A-and, your dad’s not even—” Buck cut himself off. He knew better than to just assume someone’s sexuality. Hell, he’d assumed his own sexuality for thirty some odd years, and look how that turned out. “He’s never dated a man before.”
Chris scoffed. “You didn’t date a man until Tommy.”
Irrefutable logic, really.
“That’s different.”
“Why?” Chris asked, indignant.
“Because—” Buck searched for a reason but came up empty. “I don’t know, but it is.”
“I don’t see why you two can’t date.”
“I don’t see why you want us to.” Buck wasn’t proud of the way he sounded just as much an indignant teenager as the thirteen-year-old next to him.
Chris just scoffed. “Because he’s in love with you.”
They don’t drive right into the barrier, but it’s a near thing.
Buck could feel his heart in his throat; it felt remarkably similar to having a blood clot in your lungs. Maybe he was having another pulmonary embolism, which would only be a relief because it would mean that he wouldn’t have to talk about this anymore.
When he didn’t cough up blood all over the interior of the Jeep, Buck resigned himself to seeing this conversation through. “Christopher, buddy, is this something your dad has told you? That he’s, y’know, in—”
“In love with you?” Chris cut in. “No. But I’m not stupid. I have eyes.”
That was less than illuminating. “What does that mean?”
Chris didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. “That I can see that he’s in love with you.”
“Chris—”
“C’mon,” Christopher interrupted. “I mean it. You two spend all your time together, way more time than just friends do. You stay at our house, you make us dinner, you drive Dad to his therapy appointments, you make sure I’ve finished all my homework before I’m allowed to play video games. He’s happier when you’re around, and sad when you’re gone, even if it’s for half an hour because you bought the wrong type of basil and have to go back to the store.”
Buck was stunned into silence, which Chris took as a cue to continue. “I know that he dated Ana and Marisol because he thought I needed a mom, but I already had a second parent. You,” he added a little unnecessarily. “I know about the will,” Chris said a beat later.
It felt like the car was spinning out of control, tumbling off the side of a cliff into the roiling surf a million miles below. Or maybe that was just Buck’s stomach. “What?” he managed to say, “when did he tell you about the will?”
Chris shrugged, infuriatingly casual, “couple of days ago.”
Buck tried to formulate a response, but his head was just filled with noisy static, so much so that he almost missed Chris’ next statement.
“I don’t know why I’m trying to convince you to date him, you guys are basically married.”
You two, that Christmas elf had said all those years ago, have an adorable son.
Buck had to say something to set Christopher straight. “I know how this all looks, but Chris you know that it’s not like that with me and your dad, right?” The words were pouring out of Buck’s mouth before he had any chance to really think them over. “He’s my best friend in the world—after you, obviously. I’m sure it’s not conventional, or-or normal for two unmarried guys to do all that together, but our lives are pretty abnormal. Putting me in his will was just give him some peace of mind if anything happened to him, it’s not because he’s in love with me.” Christopher scoffed from the passenger seat. “Chris, you and your dad are the two most important people in my life and I’m not going to jeopardize that over some silly feelings—”
Even with his gaze fixed forward, fully on the road, Buck only managed to spot the massive pothole in the asphalt ahead of them a moment too late, the Jeep rattling on its axles as both left tires hit the pothole at full velocity.
“Jesus,” Buck swore, arm flying out instinctively to keep Chris from flying through the windshield. As soon as the car was back under control, he asked, “are you okay?” Chris nodded, a little flustered.
“What happened?” Eddie blearily asked from the backseat.
“Sorry, Eds,” Buck said, “we hit a pothole.”
“‘s Chris okay?”
“I’m fine, Dad,” Christopher said, all teenage petulance.
“Cool it with the attitude, mijo,” Eddie playfully ruffled Chris’ hair. Buck heard Eddie yawn and re-settle in the backseat. “Sorry for making you deal with this grouch all on your own, Buck,” he yawned again. “But I’m awake now. What’re we talking about?”
Chris shot Buck a shit-eating grin, “I was just telling Buck—”
“That he wants to watch Treasure Planet tonight,” Buck cut in.
“Again?” Eddie asked. “Fine,” he sighed, “but only because I love you, kid.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Chris said, looking at Buck the whole time, “I know.”
It doesn’t dawn on Buck until they’re pulling into Eddie’s driveway.
They’d gone out to dinner, just the two of them. Chris had his first full week back at school and was celebrating it with pizza and video games and way too little sleep at a friend's house. Rather than enjoying a quiet evening at home, Eddie had invited Buck out to dinner. It was supposed to be a thank you for everything Buck had done for Eddie that summer, but Buck was still surprised by the niceness of the steakhouse Eddie had chosen, the wine he’d ordered, and the crème brulee he’d insisted on sharing even though Buck knew that Eddie was more of a tiramisu guy.
Despite the fanciness of the restaurant, it was a shockingly normal evening. They gossiped about their co-workers, discussed Chris’ new classes, fantasized Captain Gerard's downfall, and good-naturedly teased each other all night long. When the check arrived, Eddie took it from their server with an expression that brokered no argument from Buck. For once, Buck wasn’t eager to pay his half, pleasantly tipsy from his two glasses of cabernet and Eddie’s undivided attention.
After dinner they walked around Echo Park to digest a bit, the sun dipping low in the western sky. And maybe Buck was blinded by the rose-tinted glasses of being hopelessly in love with his best friend, but the light of the setting sun was bathing Eddie in a gorgeous warm glow, distracting enough that Buck didn’t even try and argue with Eddie’s inane assertion that Tobey Maguire was the superior Peter Parker.
(It was Andrew Garfield, obviously)
As they drove home, Buck tried to commit the whole evening to memory. The smile on Eddie’s face when he knocked on the door to the loft, suit jacket thrown over one arm. The press of Eddie’s knees and ankles as they both tried to fit their long legs under the tiny bistro table. The way Eddie pushed the ramekin of crème brulee over to Buck so he could have the last bite. The brush of their shoulders as they walked around the Echo Park Lake. The way Eddie slipped the valet their tip at the end of the night, the money passing hands effortlessly. The smell of Eddie’s good cologne, spicy and sexy.
If Buck didn’t know any better, he would think that he had just been on the best date of his life—
Oh.
Oh god.
Clueless to Buck’s internal freak out, Eddie pulled his car into his driveway. Had they even discussed going back to Eddie’s house? It’s not like there was a babysitter they needed to relieve, they could have easily gone back to the loft, drink a beer or two while they watched a movie, and then Eddie would drive home so they could sleep in their separate residences.
Eddie pulled up the emergency brake and turned the car off, turning to smile at Buck from the driver’s seat, his face cast in light from the dash. “Should—” he started.
Buck would never know what Eddie thought they should do, cutting him off to ask, “are we on a date right now?”
He expected to Eddie’s face to draw up in confusion or disgust, but if anything, his smile softened. “Took you long enough to figure it out,” Eddie said, unbuckling his seatbelt and popping open his door.
Buck reached across the car, tugging the door shut. “Where the hell are you going?”
“I was getting out of the car,” Eddie replied, bemused, “so I could go and open your door and then bring you inside. Maybe kiss you at the front door, if you’re lucky.”
Buck felt his cheeks flush a furious red. “Eddie!”
“What?” Eddie moved to open his door again, but Buck reached back over to close it once more. “Why can’t I get out?”
“We have to talk about this, Eddie.”
“I agree, but do we have to do it in the car?”
“I’m not getting out of the car until we discuss this.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a firefighter. I can very easily carry you out of this truck so we can have this conversation on the couch like normal people.”
“If you try and forcefully take me from this truck, I will scream loud enough that that old racist lady down the street will call the cops on you,” Buck threatened.
Eddie sighed, but he took his hand off the door. “Fine.”
“Fine,” Buck repeated. After a few moments, he asked, “were you ever going to mention that this was a date?”
The other man shrugged, “I figured that would become obvious when I tried to kiss you at the front door.”
“Eddie!” Buck exclaimed again, dropping his face into his hands.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Buck,” Eddie said, sounding exasperated.
Buck sat back up, turning to face Eddie again. He was the one that insisted on this conversation, he was going to handle it like an adult. “I want you to explain how we ended up on a date tonight. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I’m a man.”
Even in the low light of the car, Buck watched Eddie’s face burn scarlet. “So,” he started, hands twisting in his lap with nervousness. Buck wanted to reach over and still the trembling fingers, but he felt frozen. “I should probably tell you that I’m, uh,” he took a steadying breath, dark eyes meeting Buck’s. “Gay.”
It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the cab, but Eddie continued on, confidence returning in fits and starts. “I’ve been working on it with Frank for a while now. Talking through all the religious trauma and repression and compulsory heterosexuality.” A complicated look crossed Eddie’s face as he studied Buck’s reaction to this revelation. “You seem surprised,” he said at last.
Buck was very surprised. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Eddie, and in many ways, it made a lot of sense. But in almost as many ways it made absolutely no sense at all. There were a million things Buck wanted to say, but what came out was, “four months ago, you were dating two women.” Buck felt himself involuntarily wince at the comment.
Eddie laughed humorlessly. “You mean the ex-nun and the doppelgänger of my dead wife? Do either of those options scream confident in his heterosexuality to you?”
And, well, when you put it like that…
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Buck asked. He was screaming at himself to reach out across the center console and pull Eddie into a hug, to thank him for trusting him with this information, but Buck was in fight or flight mode. He needed answers to the questions burning a hole in his tongue.
“I was going to. I had a plan,” Buck couldn’t quite manage to hide his huff of disbelief. “Really, I did!” Eddie exclaimed with a laugh. “I was going to kiss you at the door and then we were going to go inside and have this conversation on the couch,” he added with emphasis, “and if I was lucky, we’d make out for a bit before I convinced you to sleep over. Y’know,” Eddie bowed his head in chagrin, “in the same bed.”
Buck wanted all of that so, so badly, but it was like his brain was quite ready to let his heart be happy just yet. “Seems like you had the whole scene planned out,” he said, “Where are my lines?”
“Buck—”
“Why didn’t you just ask me on a date like a normal person?” Buck searched Eddie’s face for answers, for an explanation that would quiet that part of his brain that couldn’t quite trust that all of this was real. He might have to text Bobby to make sure he wasn’t in another coma dream. “You have to know that I’d say yes.” He snapped his mouth closed
So maybe Buck hadn’t meant to say that part out loud.
Eddie just smiled at him, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a little smirk. “For one, I’m not a normal person. I’m still working through a lot of shit.” He took a steadying breath. “I make mistakes, I hurt people I’m close to, and I often act directly against my own best interests,” that sounded straight out of one of his sessions with Frank, if Eddie’s rueful smile was anything to go by. “But I’m trying to be better. For you, and for Chris, but also for me.”
Buck wanted grab Eddie by the shoulders and shake him until he understood how good he was. That he was the best father that Chris could ask for, a better friend than Buck could ever deserve. He wasn’t a perfect man, but he never stopped trying to be better, and that was all that Buck could ask of him.
“And two?” Buck asked, voice barely more than a whisper.
“And two,” Eddie said, “I wasn’t sure that you would say yes. I’d hoped that you’d say yes, but I never for a second assumed that you would. I know you, Buck. I know how your brain works. I knew that even if you were interested in going on a date with me, that you would talk yourself out of it before you could say yes.”
Eddie knew him a little too well.
“I wanted to ease you into the idea of us being more,” he continued, “to prove to you—through actions—” he emphasized, because he knew that that was one of Buck’s Love Languages, “that this thing between us is so, so good.” Eddie smiled; his dark eyes shining bright in the light from the porch. He was so beautiful. “I figured I'd take the opportunity of our kid being out of the house to finally do it."
Our kid. Our kid. Our kid.
"But I am sorry," Eddie said. "I should have told you how I was feeling, I should have asked you out like a normal person, even if it meant opening myself up to rejection—”
“Didn’t I just say that I would’ve said yes?” Buck cut in.
Eddie smiled, his eyes searching Buck’s face. “You did say that, actually.” He paused, a whole range of emotions crossing his face. It settled, at last, on something hopeful. “You mean it?”
Buck rolled his eyes facetiously. He was dizzy with the intensity of Eddie’s gaze, and if he didn’t break eye contact soon, he was going to faint like some damsel in distress. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been angling for a date with you since the first time I saw you through the glass doors of the locker room.”
“That long, huh?” Eddie asked, the smirk evident in his voice.
The next words tumbled out of Buck's mouth, unbidden. “Just wait until you hear about how long I’ve been in love with you.” Buck snapped his mouth shut and briefly considered making a run for it. “I mean—”
Eddie caught Buck’s chin in his hand, keeping him from curling in on himself in embarrassment, his touch warm and yielding. “You love me?” he asked, a little unnecessarily. Buck nodded helplessly. Eddie’s hand moved, fingers tracing the edge of his jaw, the sensitive shell of his ear, and the ridge of his brow. Buck felt his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, Eddie’s thumb brushing over Buck’s birthmark. “Oh, mi amor—”
What was Buck supposed to do except hastily unbuckle his seatbelt and launch himself across the center console to finally, finally kiss Eddie Diaz.
And what a kiss it was.
Their lips fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces snapping together. Eddie’s hand was cupping Buck’s jaw, fingers prodding and imploring Buck to drop his mouth open. He didn’t need to be asked twice, and the slide of Eddie’s tongue against his was fucking intoxicating.
Buck’s right hand was placed on Eddie’s thigh for balance, while his left gripped the forearm of Eddie’s hand that was still cupping his face. Eddie used his free hand to wrap his fingers around Buck’s right wrist. It was a dizzying feedback loop of holding on and being held. It was all too much for Buck, and he pulled away to suck in a desperate breath of air.
“God,” Eddie said, looking dazed and a little sparkly around the edges. Buck was probably oxygen deprived. “I imagined this so many times, but—I,” he tugged Buck back in for another quick kiss, “I never realized it could be this good.”
Buck couldn’t let that confession go unrewarded, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s spit-slick lips. “Eddie, I—”
“I love you,” Eddie said, cutting him off. “I don’t think I said that before. That was part of the plan.”
Buck felt himself shudder. He wanted to crawl into Eddie’s chest and take up residence behind his ribcage. He wanted to use his body as a shield to protect Eddie’s heart, which was so good and pure despite all the bullshit it had been through. Buck was half-kneeling in his seat, but he needed to be closer, he needed to be as close to Eddie as possible right now before he would go crazy with it. He considered climbing over the center console and fitting all six-feet-and-two inches of himself in Eddie’s lap. The truck Eddie bought with his illegal fight club winnings was pretty roomy, but probably not two-firefighters-necking-like-teenagers roomy. With great reluctance, Buck pulled away completely.
“Where’re you going?” Eddie asked.
“Hold on,” Buck pressed one last kiss to Eddie’s mouth before climbing out of the truck cab. Eddie, stunned to inaction hadn’t moved in the time it took for Buck to round the front of the car, pulling the driver’s side door open.
Kiss drunk and stupefied, Eddie asked, “what’s going on?”
“We’re getting out of the car,” Buck said, tugging gently on Eddie’s arm until he complied. “I’m going to get my kiss at the front door, and you’re gonna get your sloppy, teenage make out on the couch.”
The smile on Eddie’s face was blinding. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Before Buck could hotfoot it to the door, Eddie stopped him with a hand on his wrist and a quiet, “wait.”
Standing fixed in place in the driveway, Buck felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. Was Eddie having second thoughts? Had Buck moved too fast—
“Here,” Eddie said, quelling Buck’s fears as he intertwined their hands. Buck still couldn’t move. “You okay?”
Buck felt himself defrost. This was just Eddie. Eddie who had told Buck you can have my back any day twenty-four hours into knowing him. Eddie who trusted Buck with his son, even after Buck nearly lost him in a tsunami. Eddie whose blood had been in Buck’s mouth, his heart stuttering under his hands. Eddie who had tried to lift Buck’s dead weight by sheer force of will in the middle of a lightning storm. Eddie who, when all hope had been lost, had called on Buck in a last-ditch attempt to hold on to his son.
Eddie wasn’t just anything. He was everything.
Buck squeezed Eddie’s hand, a smile curving across his mouth. “Never better.”