Chapter Text
“No – don’t you dare – Hen!”
Eddie looks up just in time to see Hen bounding up the stairs to the firehouse lounge, cackling wildly. Coming right after her is Buck, who launches himself bodily over Hen’s shoulders, wrapping around her from behind and seemingly trying to tussle her into silence.
Eddie would love to concentrate on what they’re fighting about, but for some reason, Buck is missing a shirt. So that’s kind of taking up most of his brain power right now, all that soft pink skin on display.
“You guys!” She manages to gasp out between her laughter and Buck’s desperate limbs. “Buck has an anonymous thirst Instagram account!”
Eddie blinks, but it’s Lucy who asks what they’re all thinking: “Sorry, what?”
Buck lets out an all-suffering groan, and finally lets go of Hen in defeat. “It’s not like that,” he protests.
“Then do the pose you were doing in the locker room,” Hen challenges. “Right here in front of us.”
Buck is bright red at this point. “No. Shut up. You do the pose.”
“I wasn’t the one doing the pose in the first place!” At that, Buck reaches out again to try and wrestle Hen – she ducks away laughing. “No, no! Down, boy! I just can’t believe you bend that way!”
“I do yoga!”
Chimney makes a spiralling motion with one finger, chewing on trail mix. “Rewind. An anonymous thirst account? How does that work?”
“Yeah, don’t you have to show your face?” Eddie contributes, considering that’s got to be half of Buck’s physical appeal. Privately, he’s just proud of himself for knowing what ‘thirst’ means without having to text May first.
“No, it’s not-” Buck lets out another groan, and drags a hand down his face as if he can pluck the embarrassment away. “Hen, I hate you. I told you this to explain, I’m- I’m telling Karen you fucked up her Animal Crossing island.”
Hen does not look chastised at all as she goes to sit next to Chimney, stealing an almond from his mix. “Worth it.” She beams unrepentantly at Buck. “What happens in the firehouse gets exposed to the firehouse. You know the rules.”
“I don’t think that is a rule we need to follow,” Bobby interjects. He’s halfway through slicing a pile of bell peppers, mildly despairing at the state of his firehouse. Ravi’s helping him this morning and has already finished his own cutting board delegation. If that’s the ‘we actually never wanted to hear a single thing about Buck’s sex life’ corner, maybe it’s not too late for Eddie to join it. “Everyone is entitled to privacy, Hen.”
Hen looks unimpressed. “We have glass walls, Cap. I can name every colour of boxer-briefs y’all wear each day of the week, don’t talk to me about privacy.” Lucy reaches over to fist-bump her in solidarity.
Bobby looks down at the bell peppers. “I did put a form in about that.”
“Uh huh.”
“Anyway!” Chimney says. “Back to the thirst account. Buck, isn’t your main Instagram basically already horny selfies?”
“No!” Buck exclaims. “And the anonymous one isn’t horny, okay? It’s to raise awareness!”
“Of your pectoral muscles?” Lucy raises an eyebrow.
“Of fire safety! I got the idea from Marjan – you know, in Austin?” Buck gestures to Eddie, as if for back-up. “Me and TK have kept in touch, and then he added me to a group chat with his firehouse, and Marjan says she really helps people by having, you know, an online presence, and spreading the word about firefighting. And she’s the one who suggested I try. She said we’d be hitting a whole other demographic, especially if I showed off a little.”
He gestures himself, dragging a demonstrative hand from his neck along to his waist, as if anyone was confused about exactly what assets he was showing off.
Chimney looks sceptical. “And you needed to pose shirtless to do so?”
Buck folds his arms. It doesn’t do much for the sake of modesty, Eddie notices. Not that he’s staring. “How do you suggest I run a thirst account without posing shirtless?”
“So, you admit it is a thirst account,” Hen counters.
“Fine! But it’s thirst for public awareness,” Buck replies. He thinks for a moment. “There should be a specific term for that.”
“Philanthropic porn?” Chimney contributes.
“Welfare whoring,” adds Lucy. “Ooh! Non-profit nudes?”
Chimney mimes bowing his hat to her in concession.
“Recent studies have shown that scantily-clad advertising diminishes market return,” Ravi points out, helpful as ever. At Bobby’s confused look, Ravi adds, “They did a study on PETA.”
Buck folds his arms tighter, hiding his nipples, and keeps his chin up proudly. He looks, to Eddie’s humble eyes, a little bit like he belongs in a museum. Maybe in a back corner with a sheet over him that only Eddie would be able to uncover. “Marjan suggested the posing too,” Buck says. “Because I didn’t want to film our call outs like she does, you know? It felt too much like… I don’t know.”
Eddie does know, actually; he knows Buck’s reticence about filming call-outs is red-head and reporter shaped, and he doesn’t blame him one little bit for it.
“Anyway,” says Buck. “If it gets more people reading my captions, then it’s worth it.”
“You know we hand out leaflets,” Bobby points out.
Buck whirls to jab a refuting finger: “And we also have a sexy firefighter calendar every year!”
Chimney interjects, “Exactly. And as Mr April-”
“Here we go.” Hen rolls her eyes.
“As Mr April,” Chimney reiterates. “I think it’s commendable what Buck is doing. I mean, he was already going to post shirtless photos – why not tell people to test their smoke alarms at the same time? Saves us a job.”
Eddie feels like he has to speak up at this point, if only to defend his friend. “Guys, come on. Buck hasn’t posted anything, you know… thirst-inducing in six months on his Instagram. You’re being a bit unfair.”
Hen doesn’t even glance in Eddie’s direction – just levels Buck with one of her signature looks. “Buck. When did you start this secret account?”
Buck visibly deflates. “About six months ago.”
“Oh.” Eddie tries to think back in his head. He barely goes on Instagram these days, on account of it being the last social media he even understands anymore, and he’s not paid to look at any at all as of a few months ago. But last time he checked Buck’s account, it was mostly picturesque landscape photos or selfies with Jee-Yun or Christopher of the firehouse. It was- Eddie was kind of pleased by that. He thought it meant- well, it doesn’t matter what he thought, because clearly he was wrong.
“There’s nothing wrong with posting half-naked photos online,” Ravi finally pipes up. When everyone turns to look at him, he shrugs. “Maybe it’s a good thing Buck is confident in his body.”
Lucy makes a contemplative expression. “He spends enough time working on it.” Having apparently reached a conclusion, and therefore now bored of the debate, she wanders towards the kitchen counter to steal a bell pepper slice. “I agree. Good on you, Buck. Post all the slutty photos you like.”
“They’re not slutty,” Buck defends, but it’s weak when his nipples are currently suffering in the upstairs AC. Not that Eddie is looking at his nipples. Or at all bothered by his best friend saying the word ‘slutty’. It’s fine. Buck sighs, finally conceding defeat, and says, “I’m going to go put a shirt on.”
He walks downstairs, and Bobby fixes Hen with a pointed look. “Hen.”
She twists her lips. “I didn’t mean- we were just teasing him, he knows that. I’ll go talk to him.”
“No, I’ll go,” Eddie says, kind of uselessly because he’s already standing and making his way to the stairs, and also pointedly ignoring whatever his team might think of that. “He’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
The thing is, Eddie knows Buck’s train of thought like a one-track subway system.
Buck started the account because he thought it would be a good way to put his assets to use, and he wasn’t expecting the people in his actual life to notice or care. And now someone used the word ‘slutty’, no matter how affectionately it was meant (Lucy also called oat milk slutty last week, because Ravi called almond milk ‘wet’), and so now Buck is spiralling and imagining he’s backpedalled back to Buck 1.0, whatever that means.
Eddie didn’t really meet Buck 1.0 – only met him in the aftermath of Abby and the person she apparently changed him into. Privately, Eddie thinks that no matter how many times Buck ‘upgrades’, he’s still all core Buck underneath, which is the only version that matters at all.
Sure enough, when Eddie finds him in the changing rooms, Buck is pulling a shirt on over tight shoulders and a down-turned chin. One day, Buck will figure out how to curl a six-foot-something body into a smaller space, but today is not that day.
“They didn’t mean it like that,” says Eddie as an opening gambit.
Buck doesn’t need to look around for Eddie to know he’s rolling his eyes. “I know they’re not slut-shaming me. It’s fine.”
“But you’re feeling self-conscious.” Eddie doesn’t mean that as a question, or doubt. If Buck did think the others went too far, Eddie will march back up with Buck to host some kind of seminar on male-presenting nipples, but they both know that’s not the issue.
Buck shuts their shared locker, apparently deciding on a t-shirt as his uniform for the morning. (Eddie presumes this isn’t the right time to tell him that he may as well be naked for as indecent as that t-shirt makes him look. Maybe he should speak to Bobby about new uniforms; baggy ones, that don’t line abdomens like marble.)
“It’s not that I’m self-conscious about the photos. I mean. I wish Hen didn’t see me specifically bent that way, but it’s fine. Like she said, we’ve all seen each other in every situation you can see someone. And the point is that the photos are supposed to be… you know. Provocative.”
“It gets the people going,” says Eddie, helpfully, because they both have the same work-out playlist and also both have the music taste of early 2010’s frat boys.
That makes Buck smile, at least, just a little one. “Exactly. And the more people who go on the account, the more people might learn something about fire safety and first responders. But I don’t want people to think that’s the only reason I’m doing it, you know? Like I’m doing it for attention.”
“They don’t think that.”
Buck sighs, all hard-done-by like. “You don’t know that they don’t.”
“I do,” refutes Eddie. “Number one, you get attention walking down the street. You were covered in literal sewage on one call-out and a woman still gave you her number. At the toy drive last year, one guy saw you handling a Bop-It and I think he was considering proposing to you on the spot. You don’t need to pose for people to think you’re gorgeous.”
Buck frowns. “I don’t remember the Bop-It guy.”
“Number two,” Eddie steamrolls ahead before Buck can examine that too closely. “Everyone knows you, Buck. They know you’re doing it because you care about people, because that’s kind of the reason you do everything.”
Buck looks at him from over his shoulder, big eyes vulnerable like an untouched and thinly-iced lake. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” Eddie makes his voice firm,
Buck slumps down onto the bench. “I feel kind of stupid for storming off now,” he admits, a bit of lightness finding its way back into his voice.
Eddie shrugs, comes to sit down next to him so their shoulders brush against each other. There’s a foot of spare bench on either side of them. “We’ve all stormed off for stupid reasons. Remember when Bobby lost the Mariokart tournament?”
“I seem to remember you being very quiet about finishing eleventh.”
“Ah – but eleventh is better than twelfth.” Eddie slaps a hand on Buck’s knee – pats it once, which is all he’ll allow himself, and then stands back up. “Come on, before you make the only two women in A-shift think they’re being bad feminists or something.”
They wander back up, and Buck immediately goes over to hug Hen, which is probably the only conversation they really need. Regardless, Hen still ruffles his hair – forcing him to bend down so she can reach him to do so – and says, “Good on you for putting all that hunky-ness to good use. But please – just give us a warning before your next photoshoot?”
Buck leans back, pretends to consider it. “So… Does that mean you don’t want to be my official photographer?”
She laughs out loud at the idea, just as Lucy shuffles over too. Lucy slugs a loose fist against Buck’s shoulder, which is Lucy’s equivalent of a tearful hug. (Eddie likes Lucy.) She says, “I didn’t mean slutty as a bad thing, you big baby.”
“I know,” says Buck, slinging an arm over her shoulders to bring her into half of a hug, as generous with his affection as ever. “Because you have a slutty, slutty oat latte every morning, and I’d be worried otherwise.”
“Dick,” says Lucy, affectionately, putting a bit more effort into the punch she aims at his stomach. He lets out a winded oof that seems only part-exaggerated.
And that seems to be the end of it; or at least, the end of any emotional discussion about it. Buck drags Eddie over to the couches under the pretence of teaching him better Mariokart technique, and Eddie just focuses on the warmth of Buck’s hand around his wrist.
It’s so good being back at the 118. Don’t get him wrong, Eddie is glad for the angst and the healing and the growth of last year. Glad for the therapy, and Frank, and for letting it work. Glad for leaving so he could come back better.
Having said that, he’s also so fucking glad it’s over, and now he just gets to reap the rewards. He’s clung to control his whole life, and now he’s let so much of that go. (He’s still a freak over following a recipe’s every single instruction or folding his uniform, but some things are just stuck like that.)
It’s like he’s been living his whole life in a box, and now he can stretch his limbs the whole way out.
The thing is, though – well, the thing is that when he stretches his limbs the whole way out, he knows who he wants his fingertips to brush into.
He accepts the controller from Buck, and they sit so close on the couch that their thighs press up against each other. Eddie dares to glance at Buck sideways, to take in his smiling profile – the blonde stubble and big nose and acne scars and strawberry mark. The creases of his grin as the video game loads.
Eddie looks away before Buck can notice. Self-awareness is great, ninety-nine per cent of the time. Go therapy, big whoop, or whatever. But the other one per cent is realising that wanting to climb inside your best friend to be impossibly close to him is not really a platonic feeling. Wanting to grip onto his thighs, wanting to bite his bottom lip, wanting to hold his hand just because it looks empty on the couch cushion – incredibly not platonic, apparently.
But Eddie is managing it. It’s just – he should have expected it, really, after this past year. If you shrug off a few layers compressing you into a certain shape, it makes sense that another few things should be shaken loose.
Whatever. He’s got it under control. Even when Buck leans into him as if that’ll make his video game car lean as well, and he still smells a little sweaty from their last call, and-
Yeah. Like he said, Eddie has it under control. He’s not going to think about it again, in fact. His attraction to Buck, any lingering intrigue of what pose Buck was pulling, the idea of him having some internet ‘thirst account’ at all – it’s all completely under control.
-
Eddie doesn’t expect to find the account so easily.
That’s his defence and he’s sticking to it.
Christopher is in bed, and Eddie is folded up on the couch with some reality show playing in the background. And he’s on his phone, and he apparently never actually deleted the Instagram app; it’s just surrounded on his home screen by the colourful games Christopher will play on there when they’re waiting in the hospital waiting room or something. And it’s been a while since he checked the app.
Eddie clicks onto Buck’s main account, and sure enough, any shirtless or posing photos have been missing for a while. Eddie has to scroll for a while to find anything not family-friendly, and even that is just a sunny photo of him on a run, and maybe it doesn’t even seem as indecent to other people who aren’t obsessed with him. He’s shiny with sweat, with his sports vest sticking to him, and he’s squinting from both the sun and how hard he’s grinning at the camera.
Maybe Eddie gets distracted for a second. Anyway.
He scrolls back up – past the photos of himself, of one which doesn’t even include Buck because it’s just a candid photo of Eddie making his apparently infamous ‘turtle face’ – to the very top, and checks who Buck is following. There’s most of the firehouse, and some sports accounts, and fitness ones too. There’s, oddly enough, a few mommy bloggers, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary. He’s not following his other, secret, thirst account, that much is clear.
Eddie twists his lips, spins the phone around for a moment between his thumb and forefinger. He looks up at the television, where mascara is running down the cheeks of some kind of bachelorette or survivor or love islander.
He opens the app back up.
search: buckaroo
search: buckoff
search: buck5.0
search: buckleyup
search: e_buckley92
search: buckedupbeyondallrepair
He reconsiders. If it’s supposed to be an anonymous account, Buck probably wouldn’t use his normal name in the account, right?
search: evanfirefighter
search: hotevan
search: sexyevanpics
Nope, okay, he wouldn’t use Evan either. Eddie should’ve guessed that. That’s on him. He thinks for a little longer, considering what he knows about- ah.
search: firehose118
Right, that makes sense that he wouldn’t use the firehouse number either, especially if he didn’t want the team knowing. However…
search: firehoseLA
There.
See? It was easy. No real effort involved whatsoever.
There’s Buck in the icon – not his face, but his chest flexing, which Eddie would recognise no matter how few pixels are visible on his phone’s search function. Eddie can spot his pectoral tattoo, at the very least.
He clicks onto it triumphantly.
With all the new targeted advertising, and the trauma of professionally running a social media for a public body, and also the fact he’s trying to live his life for himself and no one else, Eddie really hasn’t used Instagram in a while. There’s been a few updates since the last time he was on it, like apparently getting rid of the number of likes on a photo, and the colours are slightly different, and comments seem to be on the right side for some reason.
But Eddie doesn’t need numbers to know Buck’s account must be popular.
There are photos – endless photos – of endless skin. Nothing fully exposed, as far as Eddie can tell, but regardless, Eddie’s brain has gone a little offline at what is exposed.
Just as Buck said at the firehouse, he doesn’t show his face. It’s mostly chest photos, or full body from the neck down, or a couple of back shots, or one that’s just legs. And Buck has a lot of fucking leg.
It’s not just the tattoos, or the massive build of him, or even the snapshots of the firehouse and Buck’s apartment Eddie can recognise in the background. It’s also that Eddie could recognise Buck blind, from reading the skin across his collarbone like Braille, from the way he always lands on his right foot a little heavier when he walks.
There’s the photo which is the most recent one, which is clearly the one Hen walked in on Buck taking. He has one leg up on the bench and he’s half out of his uniform, shirtless, with his pants unbuttoned just enough to show the sliver of his crotch and the waistband of his boxers. He has one arm flexed, while the other holds the phone right in between his nipples. The photo cuts off at his chin.
There’s a photo with him in the firehouse gym area, his back turned to the camera which must have been on some kind of timer, because he’s halfway through a pull-up, his shoulder blades flexing and the small of his back tempting, and his gym shorts clinging from sweat to the shape of his ass and his thighs.
There’s a photo which is clearly Buck first thing in the morning, posing in his bathroom mirror mid-head-scratch, one arm flexed up and revealing the tender underside, large despite not even flexing. Eddie can imagine the yawn just off camera, the swollen eyelids, the spearmint-toothpaste breath-
Eddie closes the app, feeling a little like a peeping tom.
After a moment, he opens it up again.
He scrolls through with a very careful thumb, taking care to not accidentally ‘like’ any of the photos. Recent character development or not, if he likes a photo of Buck from five months ago on a supposedly secret account, he might have to find another well to drown in.
Even the captions are disarmingly endearing – true to Buck’s claims, each one has a little paragraph or a few sentences about fire safety, reminding his followers to practice their evacuation plans and teaching the ‘stop, drop and roll’ technique. Buck even apparently holds a monthly ‘Test Your Smoke Alarm’ event, where he records a video of doing shirtless press-ups for thirty seconds, which is apparently how long it should take to test your smoke alarm. Eddie watches each video, like he doesn’t see Buck work out every shift, like he could possibly look anyway despite that.
It’s just – he looks so good.
And Eddie never allows himself to have this.
He never allows himself to stare or let his gaze linger or turn as soft as he wants to. He never allows himself to have anything selfish. And desire seems the most selfish thing of all, especially these days. Especially now he knows the different shapes his desires can take.
He knows he’s attracted to Buck, has known it along with everything else that came spilling out when he cracked himself open repeatedly in every fifty-minute session. He feels like a broken vase, most of the time, with infinite sand pouring out and just as useless to keep it all contained. But being attracted to Buck – that’s only one part of it.
Because Eddie would love to have a clearer understanding of his sexuality. It’s not even a religious thing, or a Mexican thing, or anything he can pin wholly on his dad. But equally, like a Catholic Sunday School ‘told you so’, he had sex with a girl for the first time after college and ended up with a pregnancy out of wedlock and shipped off to a war in the desert. When he slept with Ana for the first time, he kind of thought a bush would start burning right outside his house.
He’s working on it, starting with ordering books on Stonewall from the local library and watching a PBS showing of The Normal Heart and reading about the Napoleonic Code in Mexico. He’s testing out labels to see if any of them fit. He’s trying to see if he can box up Shannon and Ana and Buck and the boy he used to collect bluebonnets with when they were nine years old; and if he can’t, what happens outside of the box? What happens if he can’t neatly label his fears and desires – how can he control them?
So maybe he’ll allow himself five minutes of guilty perversion. He’ll turn up the brightness on his phone for maximum clarity and he’ll look at these photos and pretend Buck is posing for him. Pretend that the coy twist of his hips in the firehouse showers (Eddie already has a hard time not thinking of Buck naked in them, he’s for sure doomed now) is for Eddie and Eddie alone.
Of course, that bubble is pretty quickly popped as soon as he starts reading the comments.
@t0mmu456: please bend me over that bench
@iwishwewerecloser: omg!1!!! you look! so! good! **_**
@$deathdeathdecay$: I wish you would save me from a fire… ☹ what if I’m holding a kitty? meow???
He’s not disagreeing with them.
None of them, in fact. He’s had all of those thoughts, maybe twice, in his weaker moments. But surely this is some kind of – objectification, or harassment! They’re rabid over Buck. And again, Eddie knows the fucking feeling, knows what it’s like to check your lips for foam when Buck pulls his shirt off with a little wriggle. But if Eddie can exercise some self-control, so can $deathdeathdecay$, for God’s sake.
The worst thing is – the absolute worst thing of all of this – is that Buck replies. Sincerely!
@firehoseLA: if you were in a fire, there would always be a firefighter trying to rescue you. Though we would have to prioritise you over any pets. But hopefully we can get both you and your cat out!
Eddie hates him. Eddie hates him so much. Eddie is going to march over to his stupid apartment and wring his stupid neck – just as soon as he stops scrolling.
It’s when he’s gotten to the bottom – the first photo posted six months ago – that the guilt really settles in. It’s a photo of Buck in the firehouse, wearing his turn-out pants and braces over his shoulders, and nothing else. The braces cover his nipples, so thank God for small mercies at least.
@firehoseLA: hi everyone! My good friend @FireFox suggested I help her spread the word about fire safety! Since 2018, fire-related injuries and fatalities are up by over 10%, so it’s important to raise awareness and knowledge. I’ll be posting every week with selfies and info, so make sure to follow for updates! And if you have any questions for me, leave them in the comments and I’ll do my best to answer them all.
@harrystylesofficialupdates17: what’s your number?
@indigoeyesandwhitehair: what’s your number?
@2523108434brazil: Qual é seu número?
@firehoseLA: EDIT – any fire or first responder related questions.
And Eddie feels…well. If he felt a bit perverted before, he now feels like a terrible friend. Buck obviously set up the account to really help people, and he also went to trouble to keep it secret, or at least anonymous from the people he knows in real life.
Eddie has betrayed that boundary. He needs to be honest with Buck and confess to finding the account.
But also – how would he explain it?
Hi Buck – yeah I know you’re taking Christopher to the zoo tomorrow for the reptile exhibit but I spent fifteen minutes fantasising about your deltoids, so you need to block me on Instagram now. No homo.
Yeah, no, he’s not texting that.
He spends the night tossing and turning between the guilt of not telling Buck and the horror of actually having to tell him. In the morning, he wakes up even before Christopher, and spends ages packing and repacking Christopher’s dinosaur-patterned backpack. He makes tamales along with a PB&J sandwich and a chicken club (for Buck and Christopher respectively), and then sits at the dining room table with his phone guilty in front of him. Christopher either doesn’t notice or is kind enough to not notice his dad’s distress as they eat breakfast together, until they’re interrupted by:
“Diazes!” Buck bursts through the front door so forcefully the handle smacks into the hallway door. Even from the kitchen, Eddie and Christopher hear a quiet, “Oops.”
Christopher laughs. “Buck!”
Buck bounce into the kitchen, leans over to ruffle Christopher’s hair and then curl an arm around to pinch some Fruit Loops. He throws them up and then fails to catch them in his mouth – one smears milk across the round of his chin before hitting the ground, and Eddie thinks he deserves legal reparations for the sight.
Luckily, Christopher finds the whole thing hilarious. “You never catch them!” he accuses.
“I do too! You only notice the ones that miss.” Buck pretends to chew on the ones that apparently did land on his mouth, before landing into the spare kitchen chair. “You ready for the zoo?”
Christopher nods, and then, predictably, launches into the latest information about the latest animal facts he has memorised. He’s been stuck on alligators ever since Buck booked the members-only reptile tour, and so has been going through various sketchbooks trying to draw them. (If he doesn’t return with a Buck-bought alligator plushie and/or Lego set this evening, Eddie will convert to Mormonism.)
Eddie finds himself fondly watching Buck fondly watch Christopher, which is, quite frankly, embarrassing, but not enough for him to stop. There’s just something about how Buck listens with his whole body, the way he nods at a cool point or waits for Christopher to finish a point before adding a fact of his own or asking a follow-up question.
Buck glances over and catches him, and Eddie tries to school his expression into something less heart-beating-outside-his-chest-like. From the tender scrunch of Buck’s laugh-lines, Eddie’s not sure he manages it.
Christopher finally finishes his breakfast and goes to his room for a last-minute collection of anything he wants to take to the zoo. He calls through the hall, “My phone is out of charge!”
“I’ve got a portable battery,” Buck calls back. “Come on, the reptile tour waits for no man! Nor kid taking ages to brush his teeth!”
There’s a pause, and then a clatter as Christopher, having definitely forgotten to brush his teeth, makes for the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him.
“Thanks for organising this,” Eddie says, leaning against the front door’s arch while they wait for Christopher to finish getting ready. “Just try to stop him from jumping in with the alligators, will you?”
Buck pretends to consider. “Fine. But if he’s being naughty, can I chuck him in?”
“Oh, yeah, I’d expect you to.”
They grin at each other for a second. Then, like a bolt of God-sent lightning, Eddie’s phone pings from where he left it on the kitchen table, and Eddie sprints for it.
It’s only a fucking weather notification, but Eddie slides the toggle to ‘silent’ anyway, before coming sheepishly back to the hallway. Buck is looking at him like Eddie has grown a second head.
“Dude,” says Buck.
“It was a weather notification,” replies Eddie. Which is the truth, damn it, but it comes out sheepish regardless.
Buck squints at him. “An… explosive weather notification?”
“I’m expecting a package delivery.” Eddie lies and stuffs the incriminating evidence into his back pocket. “I thought it might be Hermes.”
“If it’s Hermes, you would have had the package thrown at your head by now.” Buck makes a pointed gesture towards the front yard and the emptiness of it. “I think you’re safe.”
Christopher rounds the corner before Eddie can reply to that, and thankfully saves him from digging a deeper hole for himself. “Brushed my teeth,” he says, baring them as proof, and then he pulls out the old-school camera Eddie bought him during a photography-phase last year. “And I brought my camera.”
“Hey, I didn’t know I was taking David Attenborough to the zoo today!” Buck takes the backpack from Eddie and slings it over his shoulder. Eddie has an instant flash of what that shoulder looks like bare, and immediately hates his stupid, easy-to-flush cheeks. “Come on, say goodbye to your dad.”
“Bye dad!” Christopher says, leaning in for a quick hug around his waist and then making for the parked Jeep.
“Bye!” Eddie waves back. And then Buck leans in for a hug too, one arm dipping around his waist and hand splayed on his back, and Eddie can smell his cologne, and then his second goodbye catches somewhere behind his Adam’s apple, and then Buck is gone too, starting up the Jeep and pulling out of the driveway.
And Eddie stays standing in his open doorway for longer than he’d admit.
This cannot go on.
For both his sanity and his dignity, Eddie needs to nip this crush in the bud and move on. And to do that, he needs to get Buck’s secret thirst account out of his mind as like, step one of twelve. And to do that, he needs to fess up to Buck that he knows about it.
There just doesn’t seem to be a way where Eddie can confess he found the account without also confessing that he examined every single photo posted to it. He’s a fantastic repressor but a horrible liar, and if he starts with the truth, he’s terrified that every other truth will come along with it. He’ll start with ‘your username was easy to find’ and end with ‘and in summary that’s why I think our gravestones should be next to each other.’
So, by the time next shift rolls around, after Buck and Christopher came home from the zoo sunburnt and tired and delighted, Eddie decides on a plan.
He’ll make it into a joke.
He waits for after their first call, after Bobby’s made lunch and they’ve all eaten it, when he and Buck have found their own corner of the firehouse. They sprawl across the sofas, Hen off revising for her next medical test and Chimney off to call not-love-of-his-life Maddie. Lucy and Ravi are jabbering distantly about cleaning duty, which Eddie is happy to leave them to.
He logs out of his main account and into the new one, which has the most embarrassing username he could think of when he was creating it last night in preparation.
(He originally went for ‘@firehoseLAfan’ but horrifically, that was already taken).
The profile picture is a quick photo he took last night of the hand-painted ceramic tortilla warmer Abuela bought for him before she left for El Paso. It’s very gaudy and floral, and as soon as Eddie had taken the photo, the background being his white countertop, it went straight back into the deepest corner of his cupboard, along with all the other kitchen appliances he never uses.
On this account, he only follows @firehoseLA so it’s easy to pull up Buck himself. He hasn’t posted anything new since the last time Eddie checked (twice last night, shut up) so there’s less to distract him on his mission.
He takes a breath, and he types out his comment under Buck’s latest selfie:
@elbombero118: There’s nobody in this world I trust more with my fire safety than you.
He presses send, and then tucks his toes further underneath Buck’s thighs and waits expectantly, staring a pointed hole into the side of Buck’s head.
But Buck seems to be concentrating on an article on his phone, even as he reaches out with his spare hand to clasp Eddie’s ankle over his uniform pants. Buck’s phone pings, and Eddie waits with bated breath –
And then the alarm blares.
It’s a real bitch of a call-out, a fire that won’t quit until they’re all drenched in their own sweat and steam from the hoses, and foul-smelling from all the soot and dirt. Eddie honestly forgets that Instagram even exists as a concept, and the pointed joke; he and Buck nap off the rest of shift and then stumble into their own cars to go home.
So, it’s only when Eddie is climbing into bed that he remembers, and he quickly pulls up the app to check it. And – fuck.
@firehoseLA: that’s kind of you to say, but I’m sure all firefighters in your area are just as qualified!
Eddie stares at the screen, as if he looks at it long enough, Buck’s reply will change. He- hang on. Either Buck got the reference and he’s messing with Eddie right back – or.
Or he didn’t, because if you get hundreds of comments a week and if you don’t have weird non-platonic feelings for your best friend then maybe you don’t endlessly rerun all the times you sort-of declared your feelings for him, and so you probably missed the reference to it.
The phone fades to black because Eddie has been still for too long, petrified by his own horror.
He – this was really his best plan. It’s embarrassing to admit that, but this was really all he had. And now it’s even worse, because explaining the joke would be even weirder than the already-weird confession he had planned. Eddie just assumed Buck would get it! He gets every other thought that goes through Eddie’s head, how could he have missed this one?
Eddie thought Buck would get the joke, and then would text him or something, and they’d have a laugh about it. And then Eddie could dislodge the guilt sunk into his stomach, and delete the app, and they’d all be fine.
But Buck missed the reference.
Eddie has to try one more time. He pulls up his text thread to Buck, and types out:
Eddie: Updated your thirst account recently?
The reply is nearly instant.
Buck: what are you doing using terms like ‘thirst account’ old man
Buck: ur only allowed to roast me for that after the statutory of limitations runs out for making your niece take a shirtless photo of you hugging a cat
Buck: also did u take my phone charger from our locker? the one w the blue cable? 🔵 🔵 ?
Eddie considers whacking his own phone against his forehead, but if that’s how he cracks the screen, he doesn’t want the reminder of his own fucking stupidity.
Yeah, there’s no way Buck has any idea. Eddie’s genius, fool-proof plan is a complete failure.
Even worse, Eddie did take the blue cable charger.
-
Eddie deletes the app.
He decides to have this one secret from Buck, and never check the account again. He can respect Buck’s wishes from now on, at least. and he can keep his guilty attraction to himself.
And that’ll be the end of it.
It has to be.
-
Eddie has visited the new dispatch centre a few times since leaving its employment, mostly to see Linda and either bring her the products of her recipe advice or to ask her for more of it. He has mixed feelings about his old office burning down – depression and self-punishment and insomnia aside, he had a cactus on his desk that was literally the only plant he’d been able to keep alive for more than a month. But the new building seems to be popular with the people who are actually working there, which is what he supposes matters.
He waves at Linda, who’s on a call that looks to be more frustrating than dangerous judging by the way she’s somehow side-eyeing her own computer screen. Josh sends him a smile which seems mostly sincere, and Sue wiggles her clipboard at him in greeting. It’s nice being back here without having to brace himself for a day of not being a real firefighter, getting to see his ex-colleagues without wondering who would need him to send a tweet next. But nice or not, he has a mission today.
Maddie’s surprise turns to a glare as she sees Eddie approach with a box of cookies ribboned up and a card on the top of it. Eddie was more than happy to bring the gifts on behalf of the firehouse, having the benefit of a pretty empty day bereft of errands until Christopher finishes school.
Eddie also, perhaps, has the benefit of being the only one at the 118 Maddie didn’t explicitly ban from coming to check on her today in her message to Buck and Chimney.
"Dammit," she sighs. “I knew I was missing someone from the list.”
Eddie shrugs, not offended at all. "Chimney and Buck's back up plan was to hide behind Jee-Yun and pretend it was her idea."
"Small mercies," she agrees, her glare finally giving up dissipating away. "So, what have you brought for me?"
"A small card and some homemade cookies from Bobby." At her sceptical eyebrows, he admits, "I threw out the main cake and the balloon. It turns out not a lot of bakeries cater towards ‘congratulations on your first six months back at work after PPD,' and the resulting improvisation was... horrific."
Maddie snorts. "What was the pun they went with?"
“Something about adding depresso coffee to your order? I don't know, please don't ask me to repeat it." And maybe Buck and Chimney do know her after all, because she barks out a laugh that makes her whole head throw back. He adds for good measure, "At least they didn't try making anything out of fondant."
“I don’t know about that,” she says, smiling at him crooked and warm. “If they had, I’d have something to throw at them.”
“And I don’t doubt your aim.” He grins back at her.
Despite everything and everyone they have in common, he and Maddie rarely spend that much time one-on-one. Maybe if their times at dispatch had overlapped, they would have found their way closer to each other. Maybe if they didn’t usually see each other with a buffer of Chimney or Buck or both. Regardless of that, however, Eddie likes her. Like her brother, Maddie’s easy to love, always generous with her smiles and kindness and warmth. It’s just brown eyes that are bright rather than blue.
He opens his mouth to make his excuses and leave, but she cuts him off with, “Why don’t you come eat some of these cookies with me? I’ll show you the new break room. We even have a Hildy machine.”
He narrows his eyes but follows her anyway. “When there’s another fire here, you’ll know who to blame.”
“Our Hildy robot overlords?” She nudges into him as they walk through the desks, ringing and calls still going on around them. “I’ll take the risk for a good cappuccino on the night shift. And Buck told me you use yours plenty.”
Eddie keeps his chin high. “Only for the milk frothing feature. And I put a dishcloth over the top of it so it can’t see me. And Buck shouldn’t be telling you shit when he doesn’t even know how to work it.”
“Uh huh.” She looks up at him (it’s still crazy to him that someone related to Buck can be so tiny) with a bemused smile. “I’ll keep that in mind next time he uses ours.”
Eddie frowns at that – because he’s pretty sure Buck can’t work the Hildy at the Diaz house. He always says he needs Eddie to do it, and then spends at least twenty minutes making fun of his dishcloth-blinding technique, because apparently that model doesn’t even have a camera, like he didn’t watch the same documentary with Eddie about all the ways the government could hide cameras these days. But maybe Maddie has a different, easier to use Hildy at her apartment. Speaking of:
“How’s the new apartment?” he asks, setting down the Tupperware of cookies on the breakroom island counter.
She pulls a face. “Fine. All baby-proofed and full of toys. I can’t move a foot without stepping on something that starts singing.”
Eddie can’t help but commiserate. “Christopher had a lizard plushy that would play a five-minute lullaby every time you squeezed the torso, and he had to have it on every long car ride. I can’t tell you how many times I considered throwing it out of the window when we were on the highway.”
“But you still kept it?”
Eddie busies himself with taking off the Tupperware lid. “Couldn’t bear the idea of taking it from him. It’s still in the attic, along with every other toy his tías bought him. Batteries taken out, though.”
When he does look up, Maddie is looking at him like he’s just as soft as the lizard that made its way from El Paso to LA. He clears his throat, and goes over to the coffee machine, starts to press the necessary buttons to fix Maddie with a cappuccino and himself with a black coffee. (Obviously he doesn’t want Hildy to know his real coffee order.)
She continues, thankfully, “But yes, the apartment is fine, thank you. And now I’m back on a regular salary, I can start saving up for a proper house again.”
“I didn’t realise you wanted one.”
She shrugs. “I mean – I don’t think Jee is going to forever hate me for living in an apartment complex. There’s definitely other stuff for her to bring up to her inevitable therapist.”
“Like how much you’ve always loved her?” Eddie counters. He knows the language of spiralling-parent-guilt well.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She fiddles with the coffee mug he hands her. “But regardless, I would like her to have a garden, or some kind of back yard. I barely have a windowsill I can grow herbs on right now. And Howie always said-” she cuts herself off.
Eddie waits.
Maddie lets out a sigh. “Chimney always said he’d want to teach her to play soccer. Like, he wanted to set up a cheap goal net and play with her when he was off-shift.”
Eddie circles the rim of his mug for something to aim his totally-casual look at. “You know,” he says. “I hear it’s easier to get a house on two incomes.”
“That’s your matchmaking angle?” She looks unimpressed. “I’ve had Buck, Bobby, Sue, Albert, Hen, Linda, and a random woman at the burrito van attempt to get us back together, but your angle is the Los Angeles housing market?”
Eddie winces. “Look, I included military spousal benefits in my first proposal to Shannon. And, uh, a vat of chocolate for the second one. I’m not really the romantic expert.”
Maddie claps a hand over her mouth but a laugh squeaks out anyway. “Oh, god,” she says.
It’s impossible not to laugh with her, eyes crinkling and incisors poking out over his bottom lip. “Hey, now. It was the best I had!”
“That’s terrible,” she says, still giggling. “And I thought Buck’s Christmas present for Taylor was the least romantic thing I’d ever heard.”
“The life alert watch?” Eddie snorts, takes a sip of his coffee. “Bobby suggested an engagement ring; it could have been worse.”
Maddie pulls a face that makes Eddie feels immediately better for every uncharitable thought he had about Taylor Kelly. “Thank god that’s all over. Although maybe she’s better than no one on days like today.”
“What do you mean?”
She twists her lips. “I’m not sure I should- but, well, I suppose it’s you. And I’m worried about him. I mean, I’m always worried about him, but-”
“Maddie.”
She lets go of her coffee. “It’s the anniversary of Daniel’s death today. And, you know, I have memories and some photos and Jee-Yun to cuddle. Last year Buck and I spent it together, but…”
“You’re at work,” Eddie finishes. “And Buck isn’t.” Buck doesn’t have memories or photos, and Christopher is at school until late because of art club.
Maddie sees the moment he’s made the decision, and quickly adds, “You don’t need to check on him, out of duty or anything, I wasn’t hinting-”
“No hint necessary,” Eddie smiles to try and reassure her. “My day’s free. Why not do the full Buckley tour? I’ll go visit your parents to round things off.”
Maddie tilts her head. “Why do I get the feeling I wouldn’t want you to visit my parents?”
Eddie shrugs, the very image of innocence. “No clue. I’ve had therapy, Maddie. I’d be perfectly polite.”
“Uh huh.” The scepticism of her tone is, unfortunately, ruined by the knowing fondness in her eye. “Well, I’d better get back to work. Thank you for swinging by. But please, for the love of everything, tell Chimney and Buck that if they try and celebrate my first year back at work, neither of them gets to choose Jee-Yun’s clothes ever again.”
“You’re a cruel woman,” Eddie says solemnly. “You know full well Buck has an Etsy order coming next week.”
“All the more motivation for him.” She stands before he does, and so gets a head start on dragging him into a hug. It’s just a quick one, so he doesn’t even have a moment to feel awkward about it before she pulls back. “I’ll tell Linda you stopped by – she said something about a lasagne recipe?”
Eddie downs the rest of his coffee and then points a finger at her after swallowing. “I trust that woman with my life, my oven, and my kid’s picky tastebuds, but I am not using chickpeas in a lasagne. She can keep that recipe to herself.”
Maddie holds her hands up in surrender, even as she backs away. “Message received; I’m not getting involved in whatever that debate is. See you around, Eddie.”
Eddie watches her go, a smile on his face. Maybe they don’t know each other that well, and maybe he doesn’t have the right to be proud of her. But he’ll enjoy the warmth flooding through him anyway.
“Thank you. For. Using. Hildy.”
Eddie drops his mug.
Fucking robot overlords.
-
It’s an easy journey from dispatch to Buck’s apartment – Eddie only stops along the way to make a quick purchase and fill up on gas. He walks inside and only realises the mistake of not knocking when he’s confronted with a pink sweaty hairy stomach.
Buck finishes wiping his face with his own t-shirt, and lets it drop back down. “Hey,” he greets, with as easy of a smile as always. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
Eddie manages to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He says, only a little croaky, “Thought I’d swing by.” He lifts the six-pack of beers from the gas station as some kind of offering. Maybe at whatever altar gets him access to the god in front of him. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Oh, nah,” Buck jerks a thumb behind his shoulder to the open balcony. “I was working out, and then I figured I would try to get some shots in the sunlight for the Insta account.”
“Cool,” says Eddie, casually. He’s just a friend – a bro, a homie even – who is not at all bothered or flustered or weird about his best buddy taking selfies. He’s very casual about it all, in fact. “You free to hang out? I brought beer. Or we could go for a walk if you want to get out.”
Buck narrows his eyes at him. “Hang on. You just came from delivering the cake to Maddie, didn’t you?”
“I delivered the cookies,” Eddie says truthfully, and does not mention anything about the cake currently in a northern LA trash can.
“So,” Buck says. “You probably had a conversation with her.”
Eddie’s mouth turns down in nonchalance. “A fleeting one, sure. She sends her best.”
“Fleeting, yeah, I’ll bet.” Buck scoffs.
“What? Now I’m not allowed to talk to your sister?”
Buck rolls his eyes with his whole body, leaning back and then catching himself on his right foot. “Okay, well, whatever you talked about: I’m fine. I’m going to shower. Can you be normal by the time I get out of it?”
“I am normal,” replies Eddie, and then raises his voice as Buck turns to stalk to the bathroom. “Normal friends can bring beer for their friends who are fine!”
Buck flips him off and then shuts the bathroom door behind him. Eddie puts the six-pack in the fridge rather than knocking on the door until Buck comes back out and Eddie can have the last word, because he’s mature like that.
He opens one beer for himself, leaves another on the counter for when Buck gets out, and wanders out onto the balcony. It wasn’t a deliberate choice, but as soon as he’s out here, he’s thinking of Buck taking selfies – standing? Or on one of the chairs? Or maybe leaning against the wall-
Eddie takes a sip of his beer, rubs the knuckle of his thumb against his browbone. He needs to stop. He deleted Instagram a week ago, and this out of control attraction still doesn’t seem to have dissipated, which is honestly unacceptable. He can ignore it. It’s just flared up because Buck mentioned it – because he’s more casual about mentioning the account since Hen found out about it.
So Eddie is ignoring it, pretty successfully in his opinion, and then Buck comes out in a t-shirt still clinging to him from the shower’s humidity and his hair curling without product, and Eddie has to take a swig of his beer so he doesn’t latch onto Buck’s neck with his goddamn teeth.
Instead, Eddie leans forward, his elbows resting on the balcony wall, and looks out. He’s got this under control. He does.
Anyway, he thinks with a healthy prick of shame: he’s not here to ogle Buck, he’s here to help him.
With that in mind, as Buck comes to lean beside him, Eddie says, “Christopher has art club tonight.” He figures that if he can’t physically give Christopher to Buck to hug, he can at least talk about him. “He’s still drawing alligators like they’re about to go extinct.”
Buck makes a loud ‘pft’ sound. “Alligators have been around for two hundred and forty million years. They’re not going extinct any time soon.”
“Well, my son apparently plans to spend the next two hundred and forty colouring them in. I have you and your reptile tour to blame.” Eddie nudges his shoulder into Buck’s.
Buck’s smile is a small thing, crooked on the side Eddie can see. “Did you know temperature affects what gender an alligator will be born?”
“No,” Eddie says, a bit cautiously. There’s something odd in Buck’s tone. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah.” Buck drops his chin to his chest, leans back from the wall. His smile drops. “I wonder if my parents would’ve preferred me a different gender. You know, as well as different in all the other ways too.”
Eddie puts his beer down. “Buck.”
“Alligators also care for their young. Mothers put the babies on their backs for two whole years, which no other reptile does. I’m pretty sure my mother put me down as soon as she could and never picked me up again.” His voice takes on this shaky, acerbic quality. Like he’s trying to be ironic, but Buck is unfortunately too sincere, right down to his bones, to pull it off. “Isn’t that weird? An alligator is more maternal than my own human mother. Or – sorry. More maternal than she was to me specifically – I’m sure she held onto Daniel for ages. I bet she never wanted to put him down.”
“Buck,” Eddie says again, twisting and reaching his arm out-
Buck turns bodily away, takes his beer, and goes to sit on one of his balcony chairs. He leans his forearms on his knees, and stares at the space between them as he says, woodenly, “Sorry. It’s – I mean, Daniel is the one who died. Maddie is the one who lost a brother. My mom lost her own son. That’s – I can’t even imagine. I’m being selfish.”
Eddie lets his arms drop. He comes over to sit in the other chair, tries and fails to catch Buck’s eye. “You’re not selfish.”
“You don’t need to lie to me.”
“You’re not. Your feelings are valid. You’re allowed to mourn your own relationship with your parents.”
Buck makes a tutting sound. “Alright, Frank.”
Eddie kicks against Buck’s shin. “I bet Doctor Copeland would say the same.”
“Taylor wouldn’t.”
Eddie, politely, doesn’t say what he wants to, which is that he never cared about Taylor Kelly’s opinion before and he’s not going to fucking start now. Instead, he says, “Your parents put something impossible on your shoulders when you were a child. That’s not being selfish, Buck.”
But it’s like Buck doesn’t even hear him. His shoulders go up, and then he lets them loose. “Maybe,” he says, and then takes another sip of his beer. “So what time are you picking Christopher up?”
Eddie eyes him, and the subject change, with suspicion. “Do you want to come with me to pick him up?”
“Nah,” says Buck. “It’s fine, I’ll see him later in the week probably.”
Which is really the only clue Eddie needs to know Buck isn’t alright. “Buck-”
“It’s fine,” Buck cuts him off. “Seriously, I’m just in a weird mood and feeling sorry for myself. This is why I didn’t- you shouldn’t have to put up with my pity party.”
For what feels like the fifteenth time in as many minutes, Eddie tries again, “Buck-”
“How is Christopher’s drawing class going, anyway?” Buck asks. “I know he was having trouble with that girl, Jessica? Did you end up speaking to her mom about it?”
There’s a beat where Eddie considers ignoring Buck’s deflection. He knows that Buck knows he’s considering it. But Eddie lets out a breath, and says, “I didn’t need to – apparently Jessica had a crush on him. That’s why she was making fun of his dinosaur art.”
“Wow,” says Buck. “Wait, how did you find out about her crush?”
“He told me after school,” Eddie admits. It would probably be embarrassing by how easily he can be distracted by talking about his son, if he didn’t know that’s exactly what Buck was doing. “Apparently she asked him to be her boyfriend and he said no. Without hesitation, seems like.”
Buck laughs, the first genuine sound Eddie has heard from him since he walked through the door. “What a heartbreaker.”
Eddie shrugs, not too broken up about the fact that his son isn’t bothered about dating yet. “I mean, she said dinosaurs were boring. To Christopher.”
“Poor strategy,” Buck agrees. Buck manages to keep the whole conversation light like that – asking in turn about Linda, Carla, May, Pepa, Abuela, and Karen, until Eddie is pretty sure he doesn’t have any women left in his life for Buck to ask about. All exactly until Eddie has to leave to pick Christopher up.
Eddie has been nursing one beer the whole time, though Buck has put away two or three in the same period. Buck also has the body mass of a baby elephant, so Eddie isn’t exactly worried about his tolerance. But either way, there’s something a little fragile about Buck when Eddie says goodbye. Still, Buck keeps a careful distance between them, to the point where Eddie couldn’t make a hug seem natural even if he tried.
Eddie gets into his car, and the whole drive to Christopher’s school, thoughts of Buck pinball around his brain. It’s a respite from the distracting attraction, of course, but the worry isn’t half as fun.
There was a time where Buck wouldn’t have closed off like that, not to Eddie. Today, Eddie got a glimpse of it, of his anger and self-esteem, but Buck still shut it down, didn’t want to listen to whatever kindness Eddie was trying to offer. And Eddie would love to blame that on Taylor, or Abby, or hell, even Ali and whatever Albert’s girlfriend was called. The Buckley parents, too, and maybe the ghost of Daniel that haunted Buck’s childhood. But there was all of that a year ago, and Buck wouldn’t have kept Eddie out then.
Eddie gets to the school parking lot a few minutes early and takes the chance to tap his fingers against the steering wheel in thought.
He thought – well, maybe he’s been the selfish one. Because he thought he and Buck were closer than ever because of how much of Eddie he saw exposed – how much of Eddie he held close and protected this past year. But Eddie’s been leaning on Buck, and Buck has seemed happy enough to be there – and Eddie refuses to spiral into a pit of guilt, he’s not a burden for having feelings, et cetera. But Chimney lashed out at Buck, and Maddie ran away from him, and Taylor just reinforced Buck’s issues whether she meant to or not, and Bobby’s had enough weight on his own shoulders.
Which all adds up to: Buck has been there for everyone else, and now Eddie thinks that he’s out of practice at letting someone be there for him.
And with that thought, Eddie has possibly the worst idea he’s had since signing up to the army.
He uses the school Wi-Fi to redownload the app while he waits for Christopher in reception, which he’s sure the PTA would have plenty to say about. And later that evening, after Christopher has been put to bed (and after Eddie pretends for half an hour to not know Christopher is using his nightlight to read by), he logs into Instagram.
As @elbombero118.
(Which, yes, Eddie is obviously regretting as a choice, but he only has two email addresses to set the damn accounts up with, and it’s not like he’s going to ask someone how to change the username.)
His whole homepage is literally just adverts and @firehoseLA, because he doesn’t follow anyone else. Which makes it immediately obviously that Buck has posted something today.
It’s a selfie that’s a little more muted than his usual posts. It’s from the balcony, but it’s nothing like Eddie imagined when he caught Buck there just a few hours ago. He’s cross-legged on the flooring, with the photo cropped at his neck so as to keep his face still hidden. And yes, of course he’s gorgeous. But what gets Eddie like a Halligan to the chest is the caption at the bottom of the photo.
@firehoseLA: as you all know, I’m a firefighter. Obviously! But what that means is I’m also a first responder, so I’ve seen my share of emergencies that aren’t fire-related. I was involved in a pretty big one a few years ago – you guys remember the LA tsunami? Since then, I like to meditate to ground myself, when I feel like I’m being swung about in the current again. That’s what I’m doing in this photo! ommmm. 🧘
Today I felt especially watery. It’s the anniversary of my brother’s death, which my mom took really hard. And the closest I can imagine to feeling her loss was that same tsunami, where I lost a kid very special to me for just a few hours. Worst few hours of my entire life, I think, before he was found. And she’s had that pain forever. I don’t know how to grapple with that.
Anyway, I just wanted to extend some love to those of you who may have similar watery days. And here’s my weekly tip: if you ever are in a tsunami, make sure to run inland and as high up as you can. And go check your home insurance policy right now! 💙 💙 💙 💙 💙
Eddie feels – maybe it makes him the worst person in the world – but he feels angry. Because he was there! He was with Buck just a few hours ago, on the same goddamn balcony, and he could have talked about this with Buck. He could have reassured him, and maybe held onto him, and let him let it out. But Buck chose to talk about Christopher’s playground crushes, like he couldn’t let Eddie see that part of him. Like Eddie hasn’t already seen it.
And the comments only make him angrier.
Some of them are kind, extending support and kindness and gratitude for Buck sharing that side of him. But so many of them are more of the same, just objectifying Buck. They’re commenting on his calves and his shoulders and what they’d do to him wet.
Eddie feels his jaw grind. Jesus, it’s like nothing gets through to Buck sometimes. Eddie wants to shake him and yell you are loved by so fucking many of us until it somehow penetrates. How can this be helpful for Buck? Why would he share something so personal with horny strangers, rather than his own goddamn family?
It’s that anger that makes him comment, before he can think it through:
@elbombero118: I’m sure you have friends who would want to be there for you.
Maybe that was too on the nose. Fuck it, if that’s what gets Buck to talk to him, really talk to him, then Eddie doesn’t care. If Buck calls him annoyed that Eddie found the account, fine, at least he’ll be calling him.
Eddie chucks the phone onto the sofa, goes to make a mug of tea, and tries to calm down. He swings by Christopher’s bedroom to take away his nightlight and tell him, “Okay, bedtime for real now, mijo.” He kisses his son on the forehead and thinks of all the watery days he’s had too. He thinks of the few minutes he thought Christopher was gone, and, not for the first time, thinks it would have been impossible for him to survive the hours that Buck did thinking the same.
By the time he comes back to his couch with a cup of chamomile, he’s feeling a little calmer, and maybe aching a little more in its removal. All he wants is to be there for Buck, and he won’t let him. He checks his phone and is surprised to find a reply already.
@firehoseLA: I know, but they have their own problems, man. I can’t be another burden to them. It’s all good, we all have our own ways of coping 😊 hope you’re having a good day! Thanks for commenting!
That puts another piece of the puzzle together, at least. Eddie understands, he thinks – it’s easier sometimes to vent to strangers than the real people in your life. As someone who spent some time punching such strangers rather than deal with his own wife’s death, Eddie does, remarkably, understand the sentiment.
But he also knows it’s not the healthiest sentiment.
He purses his lips together in thought. This could be the perfect moment to reveal he knows about Buck’s account. Maybe that would force him to talk to Eddie. Eddie could even pretend it was just the stupid Instagram algorithm. But then he’d be ruining the one space Buck was sharing in.
Fine. Compromise, then.
If Buck doesn’t want to talk to Eddie, he doesn’t have to. Eddie knows someone else he can talk to.
@elbombero118: Be a burden to me then.
@elbombero118: I’m just a stranger, after all.
He finishes his chamomile tea still waiting for a reply, and then remembers the saying about a watched pot. He chucks his phone to charge beside his bed and gets ready for bed, brushing his teeth and washing his face and changing into his shorts. He pulls the sheets over him, with the lights switched off and his black-out blinds down and checks his phone again.
(1) direct message received
@firehoseLA: hey
@firehoseLA: is this weird? if you didn’t mean it it’s fine! srsly.
Eddie thumbs out a reply as quickly as he can, not wanting to waste the opportunity.
@elbombero118: I definitely meant it! Seriously.
@elbombero118: You help a lot of people with this account, it’s the least I could do. Happy to be impartial and a bit weird myself.
@firehoseLA: I mean….
@firehoseLA: feels like I help people’s spank banks more than what I was intending, which was spreading safety tips
@elbombero118: Well. Yeah. That too. But if you taught just one person stop drop and roll, then it’s worth it, right?
@firehoseLA: exactly. i hope so, at least.
There’s a pause for a little longer, and then Eddie prompts:
@elbombero118: Come on man. Talk to me.
@firehoseLA: yh. fuck it. I don’t know u, so if you think I’m exhausting, it doesn’t matter, does it?
Eddie thinks he might be sick.
He remembers shouting that word across a grocery store – but surely Buck knows he didn’t mean it. Surely Buck realises Eddie was just angry about fucking missing him so badly. But clearly not.
But before he can quite cope with that, Buck sends something else through.
@firehoseLA: it’s just that everyone I love has had such a tough year. and I’m so proud of them. but it’s difficult to bring my bullshit to them yk?
@firehoseLA: 1 of my best friends has been shot literally three times. what, I’m gonna tell him ‘yeah but my mom didn’t love me enough because she was mourning the death of her son.’
@firehoseLA: i mean I did already say that to him two years ago. and he was supportive, despite going through his own shit, and now i have the gall to bring it back up? that would be stupid.
@elbombero118: There isn’t a cap on how much you can need your friends. If you love them, and they love you, then maybe they want to hear about your bullshit.
@elbombero118: You mentioned the tsunami in your post. That’s a lot to go through.
@firehoseLA: I survived it. a lot of people didn’t
@elbombero118: a lot of people across the world don’t survive every day – are you responsible for them too?
@firehoseLA: u sound like my friend.
Shit. For a second, Eddie is sure he’s been caught. But then Buck continues:
@firehoseLA: so it’s like. like I lost my- not my kid but sometimes I love him as much as if he were. he’s my godson, technically.
@firehoseLA: anyway, I lost my godson in the tsunami for a few hours, and luckily a stranger saved him. so I failed him. and I thought he was dead for five hours. and that was just- do you have a kid?
@elbombero118: I do.
@firehoseLA: then u can imagine.
@elbombero118: Yeah. I can.
@firehoseLA: and… and my mom actually lost her son. he died before I was born. so I should have empathy for her. and in some ways I do, because those five hours were... dude I’ve had my leg crushed by a truck and I’d crush every limb I have before going through those 5 hours again. so I get it! but then I’m still so mad at her. because I was her son too. I was just a baby and she hated me because she made me. that seems unfair.
@elbombero118: That sounds more than unfair, man. You’re allowed to have complicated feelings about your parents.
@firehoseLA: but then I think. what’s made me so angry recently is that, like. so say the worst happened. say my godson did…you know. I would never get over that. never.
@firehoseLA: but I also don’t think I would blame another kid for that loss. I'd never try to replace him. yk? and that’s what I get mad at her for. I was just a kid.
@firehoseLA: idk. it’s just all messy in my head today. it’s really not usually like this.
@elbombero118: It sounds painful, man. Not just messy.
@elbombero118: Look. I know I’m just a stranger on the internet, and that’s why you messaged. But those friends you mentioned earlier: I know they’d want you to reach out. You mentioned your brother passed away, but do you have any other siblings?
@firehoseLA: yeh I have a sister. she finishes work in an hr or so I think.
@elbombero118: Promise me you’ll call her. Or, even better, can you drive to her? I have sisters of my own, and their hugs have healing properties. A doctor told me so.
@firehoseLA: I don’t know…
@elbombero118: Or what about your godson? I know it’s late but could you visit him in the morning? It might make you feel better to see him.
Eddie is so close to stepping over the line. Quite frankly, he thinks he’s showing his own restraint by not just waking Christopher up to take him over to Buck’s for a hug. If he could physically drag Buck somewhere where he’d feel all the love Eddie has for him, he would.
The thing is – and Eddie doesn’t think most people realise this – but when Buck self-destructs, he tends to do it off camera. He tends not to let the people he loves know he’s about to jump off a cliff – and Eddie feels like he’s always jumping after him a second too late because of it.
His phone pings with a message notification, but it takes him a moment to realise it’s not coming from Instagram, and there’s no new DM from @firehoseLA. Instead, it’s his text messages.
Buck: hey this might b weird but can I come help with the school run tomorrow morning?
Eddie: Of course. Always.
Eddie: Do you want to come over tonight? He’s asleep but you can check in on him.
Buck: that would definitely b weird.
Eddie: Luckily I already know you’re weird.
Eddie: Come over, Buck. You can sleep on the couch.
Buck: yeah, okay. twenty minutes?
Eddie: see you soon.
And then on Instagram again:
@firehoseLA: yh, thanks. I’ve messaged his dad and I’m gonna go see him.
@firehoseLA: thnx stranger.
@elbombero118: Anytime, stranger.
Eddie waits at the front door, leaving it open and trying not to see the metaphor in that. As soon as Buck’s Jeep headlights stroke around the corner and onto the street, Eddie feels something in him finally relax. Buck parks, steps out, and walks up to Eddie sheepishly.
“Sorry-” he tries to say, and Eddie doesn’t let him finish.
He finally yanks at Buck, like he should have done six hours ago, and pulls him into a tight hug, arms wrapped around him like he could physically pull Buck into the cavern of his chest if he squeezes tight enough. And Buck sinks into him, presses his nose right up against Eddie’s neck so Eddie can hear the puffs of his breath.
“It’s just been a bad day,” Buck admits, so quiet that they could easily both pretend to not have heard it.
But Eddie still says, “That’s okay. I’ll be here for the next one too, okay?”
Buck just nods, his face still pressed so close against Eddie’s skin that he can feel the swipe of his nose.
Eddie’s not naïve enough to know everything is fixed by one stupid Instagram conversation. But maybe it’s a step in the right direction. And so maybe it’s okay that he doesn’t tell Buck about @elbombero118 quite yet – and maybe it’s okay that he doesn’t yet delete @elbombero118 either.