When Eddie calls, they have a routine down. It’s never at the same time. Sometimes Buck isn’t able to pick up because his phone died or they’re in the middle of a call. When he does, sometimes he’s at the firehouse in between calls, or cooking himself lunch in Eddie’s kitchen, or lazing around in Eddie’s bedroom. When Buck answers, he always says hey like a breath of relief, and Eddie usually launches into his complaint of the day, and Buck’s there commenting and listening and finding ways to make it better, to make Eddie’s life easier. Because that’s his job as Eddie’s best friend. Make his life easier, not fall in love with the guy.
no one is going to love me like my parents do in the way that no matter how much i mess up they will still love me because thats the way the world works. no matter where i am in the world my mother will be thinking of me and loving me bc thats what mothers do and that kind of makes me sad. my mother will love me till the day we both die but not in the way i will ask her to and she will never understand me. every other love may not be conditional but it is proximinal and the less time i spend near them the more out of love they will fall.
i am a different person around my parents than i am around everyone else. i am whiny i am annoying i am a child. i am this way bc i know no matter how annoying i get they will still love me. im not sure i quite like who i am. but im not sure i always like who they are either
my family will never understand me. my friends at college will never touch me. no one will understand me like my childhood best friends. but thats all gone now. i think i grieved heavily when i turned 20 not bc i wasnt a teen anymore and ppl expected things of me now but because i knew that my childhood was over. i said goodbye to the friends from my childhood and they took my childhood with them. i left a different me in my hometown. a better me a more real me. i said goodbye before i was ready. i dont think i will ever be ready.
wc: 1.7k, eddie's winter of abandonment on new year's, for @mayslipgloss
--
Eddie’s going to blame it on Sophia for putting on High School Musical.
Look, it was a lovely party. It was no 118, but his aunt knew how to throw a New Year’s party, all things considered. Her house was all decked out with the cheesy decorations they’ve held onto since 2015. There were scattered headbands and sunglasses to celebrate the upcoming year with plastic “NEW YEAR!” and “HAPPY 2025” adorned across. Mole had been eaten, ponche had been drunk, and still there was enough food littering the table to send home for leftovers. Adriana’s laughter carried across the hall and family chatter was loud enough to make up for the months Eddie spent in a silent house. It’s good enough to feel like home.
It should feel like home. Chris is here with his cousins, all of them insisting that they’re old enough now to stay up with the rest of them; they can make it. He’s been staying with Eddie in his apartment for a month now and they’ve been talking, really talking. It’s not back to normal, but Eddie’s started to make peace that maybe they’ll never get back to normal. Made peace with the fact that maybe that’s okay, better even. They’ve been talking and Eddie’s been squaring away his place here and back in LA. They’re set to move back within the next week, so Eddie should feel at home.
There’s just a lot of talk. His family are a chatty bunch. Sophia would say Eddie fits right in with the gossip—Eddie wouldn’t call it gossip but rather keeping himself informed. And, okay, Eddie can admit his family likes to gossip, him excluded, but this time it’s not gossip. There’s just been a lot of talk from them about how nice it is to have Eddie and Chris back home, how lovely to have them around for Wednesday dinners, how it’s good for Chris to be with his cousins, with his family, how they’re all so excited for them to stick around.
They are not sticking around. Chris has been adamant about that. He’s itching to move back to LA, back to their old house (he’s made sure many times Eddie didn’t sell the place), back to his old school, and back to his friends. Back to Buck. Chris can talk about Buck like it’s easy. Eddie can…
Eddie’s not making a big announcement about him moving. The right people know and he’s not exactly going to stand on a chair and shout at a New Year’s party, no matter how suffocating these people make him. Look, once upon a time El Paso was home. And it was. It’s where his baseball bat lived, where he and Sophia covered the scuff marks against the wall with a framed photo of Abuelo, where he first learned the lyrics to “Te Lo Pido por Favor”, where he first kissed Shannon against the side of his parents’ house. Then, one day, he’s not sure exactly when, it felt so suffocating to the point that if Eddie didn’t get out he wasn’t sure he would last another day alive. One day El Paso was home and another day it was the place he was from.
He’s coping. It’s probably not up to the standards of his therapist’s desires (his new therapist, Dr. Rose, not Frank. Fuck Frank. Okay, no that’s a bit brash. Maybe not full fuck Frank, he did refer Eddie to this new therapist who is a much better fit. Sorry Frank.) But Eddie’s coping. He’s nodding along, eating Tía Luciana’s bacalao, making sympathetic smiles when necessary. He’s not letting himself mope and he’s certainly not biting any relatives hands off, even when he kind of almost wants to.
But then, Sophia puts on High School Musical. She insists on it in fact, and it’s just enough to make him drop his composure.
Eddie remembers it. He remembers his sisters’ obsession with the franchise, their comments here and there, them singing throughout the house, but that’s really the extent of his knowledge. He’s never seen the movies themselves, so he’s kind of thought whatever towards them. But now, as he’s heading to the kitchen to steal some more buñuelos, his eyes are pulled towards the tv.
“What’s this?”
“High School Musical,” the kids respond, without tearing their eyes away.
The screen focuses on two characters, one guy with sandy hair that covers a good portion of his neck and face, and a girl with dark brown curly hair. Both look fairly young. They’re singing karaoke, of all things, and it seems to be the end of the song as they hold out their last notes, mics the only thing separating them from each other. But it’s not the singing that makes Eddie stop walking; it’s the look. They’re holding each others gaze like they’re the only two people in the world, like they’re communicating something that only their eyes can say, like they’re inventing something.
Eddie knows that feeling, not the karaoke—he only remembers a disjointed montage of snippets of the night—but the look. He’s done that look. It makes his stomach fall far too fast.
And there’s a new scene. They’ve made their way outside, making conversation that matches the youthful cringe of their age, but they can’t stop stumbling over each other’s words, too hungry to miss a beat. Then finally, a pause. A moment where they’re just making eye contact, but this time it’s both of them waiting for the other to say what they both want to be said. Until one of them breaks, and then there’s fireworks.
It’s so ironic, they way the scene goes beat for beat with Eddie’s memory, even though the details are a bit different. (Ambulance bomb explosion doesn’t really look the same as fireworks, but semantics, really.) The kind of thing that lives in the back of his mind with the one person he can’t really talk about. Not that it matters; his absence further cements his presence.
The scene changes again and the moment disappears. Eddie continues to the kitchen, but by now he’s dead on his feet. His shoes are by the door but every step still sounds like what’s the point? What’s the point? What’s the point in celebrating when he’s lonely at his Tía’s place, no one to make biting comments with that makes the night bearable? Eddie’s stopped turning his head to tell Buck something, forgetting he’s not here, but that doesn’t mean the feeling goes away.Christopher will fall asleep and Eddie will wait for five minutes till midnight to wake him up and Tío Alejandro will make them watch the ball drop. Chris will eat his twelve grapes before diverting back to his grumpy, tired self (although he might insist that he is not tired), and Eddie will give him a laugh because that is definitely his kid. Then, he’ll close his eyes while he leans against Eddie’s leg and Eddie can go back to pretending like something isn’t severely missing.
-
Surprisingly, it’s Adriana who’s dragging him and Chris out to the front yard. The neighbors set off the fireworks, every year like clockwork, because it will never be done at a Diaz house. For every relative that might want to suggest it, there will be three to snap at you, “Don’t be stupid.”
A good amount of the adults around him are coupled up, so they’re out here, kissing and proving to the moon how much they love each other. Because his brain hates him, it makes Eddie think of a conversation between him and Buck a few years back.
Buck’s sliding in so fast next to Eddie on the couch that he almost sits on top of him. He’s got that puppy dog twinkle about him lately, the kind he gets whenever he’s in a relationship, because he loves the fact that someone wants him, no—that he belongs to someone. Even if that person happens to be Taylor Kelly.
But whatever. Because Buck’s here. With Eddie. His partner, his work partner, but still his partner. Narrowly missing his lap for the couch, looking at him giddy at work where there’s no Taylor Kelly to be seen. Unfortunately, Eddie barely has time to be smug about it before Buck’s saying:
“I kissed Taylor on New Year’s.”
Eddie breathes normally. The most his face does is raise a singular eyebrow at Buck.
To Buck’s credit, fair enough. He’s definitely done more with Taylor in the past, especially now that she’s his girlfriend. Not that Eddie’s heard more than the bare details, which probably isn’t great best friend behavior, but it stops him from saying his real opinion about her, so wouldn’t that really be a testament to Eddie’s best friendship?
“Wow, moving fast, huh?”
Buck whines. “Eddie, be serious.”
“I am!” But Eddie’s smile says otherwise.
“Come on, Eddie,” Buck nudges him with his elbow. “Don’t you know that superstition?”
Eddie doesn’t even need to make the face for Buck to know his answer.
“When you kiss someone on New Year’s, it’s for good luck. Because you want to spend the whole next year with them.”
Buck’s wish ended up coming true. Granted, they should have broken up around month eight and a half, but they lasted a few weeks shy of a year. Buck called it a pretty lousy year.
Eddie’s never kissed Buck, and he’s certainly never kissed Buck on New Year’s. But they’ve been together for a solid seven years now, and they’ve been some of the best years of Eddie’s life. Of course, that was then. That was before Eddie pushed his son away and had to chase him back to his childhood home. That was before Eddie did what he does best and ruined the best things he could ever have.
Meanwhile Buck stays in LA, probably at some bar in WeHo or celebrating New Year’s at the Han’s place. He’ll probably be kissing some new face that Eddie’s never met and they’ll spend a lovely new year together, and nothing about Eddie will matter because he’ll simply be too late. He doesn’t know. Lately, it seems like he’s only getting half of Buck’s life in his ears, missing out on anything worthwhile. Everything about Buck is worthwhile.
There’s a poking in his side, one that hadn’t been there before. Eddie looks down and Chris is already looking up at him. He leans down and hums to let Chris know he’s listening.
“I miss Buck,” Chris mumbles.
Eddie sighs and rubs his son’s back unhelpfully. “Yeah. Me too, kiddo.”
“Do you like the movies because you like the movies or because Buck…” Sophia pauses for a second, seeming to take her thought in a different direction than planned, “picked them out?”
Eddie’s not sure there’s a difference.
At Eddie’s silence, Sophia picks her phone up and takes them into a different room of her house. “‘Cause it kind of seems like you’re a little in love with Buck.”
Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes. This again. “I’m not in love with Buck.”
“Not even a little bit?” She squints one eye and pinches her fingers together.
“No,” Eddie presses.
Sophia laughs.
Eddie’s not in love with Buck. He’s just not.
--
or: Buck comes out as bisexual and Eddie swears nothing has to change. But then Adriana comes out as a lesbian, and Eddie's no longer certain of anything.
yayyy sending prompts !! 🌾 w buddie bc apparently u just. prefer farmer's market over cowboys 🧍
omg u want me to get in troubleeee i just think the farmers market au potential hasn't been utilized!! ok heres my take unediteddd (1.5k wc)
---
Buck is replenishing their display case with a Jack Skellington cookie in hand when the boy approaches. He looks young, maybe 10 or 8 at best, and using crutches. But he’s not slow with them, the way most people are, so he seems to be a pro with the crutches. Buck really sees a sea of dusty blond curls, but then the boy looks up with him and he’s wearing red glasses and the brightest smile. Naturally, Buck melts.
Buck sets the cookie down, before leaning on his hands at the table. The table between them prevented him from fully crouching down to this kid’s level, just like Buck usually liked to do when he talked with kids, but at least this way the boy wouldn’t have to crane his neck as much to look up at Buck.
“Hey, kiddo, you a fan of cookies?”
The kid’s smile brightens even more, if that’s even possible. “That’s what my dad calls me!”
“Cookie?”
And this kid—happiest kid in the world, Buck’s willing to bet on it—tucks his chin towards his chest and hides a giggle behind his hand. The sound shoots right past Buck’s khaki apron and strikes him in the heart.
“No!” He raises his voice, yelling in that childhood gleeful way, like it’s possibly the silliest thing Buck could have said. Because it is.
Buck loves kids. He’s good with them too. He somehow has a knack for knowing just the right thing to them. Hen says it’s because Buck is still a kid himself, which Buck will allow. Only from Hen, though. She’s earned that right after having to save his ass enough times for almost burning down the bakery on complete accident.
“So,” Buck leans forwards on his elbows, “where are your parents?”
As if Buck had summoned him, Buck hears, “Chris!”
The call comes out in a form of a more hissing type of scolding. The dad’s not really mad. Buck can always tell. Not by looking at the parents, but by watching the kids. When the parents are really mad, the kid always does some form of retreating into their shell, a frozen fear or embarrassment of being caught. But just rolls his eyes like he’s the one being inconvenienced before turning his head towards his dad.
“What did I tell you about just running off like that?” When the dad approaches, he touches a hand to his son’s back. Instead of shaking him off, the kid leans into it.
“I didn’t run off. I told you where we were going to next. It’s not my fault if you’re slow.”
It’s the dad’s turn to roll his eyes. He’s looking at Buck now, and talking to him. “He thinks I’m slow because I’m ‘old.’”
And, okay, look. Just like he’s good with kids, Buck’s good with flirting. Too good. It’s gotten him numbers that he both didn’t really want and didn’t know he wanted, and is a good factor in why their customer retention is so high. Buck’s flirting is practically a staple to these farmers market pop-ups. It irritates Maddie (because he’s her baby brother and she “doesn’t want to see all that!”) and Ravi seriously hates it (although Buck’s convinced that’s because a customer Buck flirts with is a customer Ravi can’t flirt with) and it’s fun. It’s not like Buck’s got any special someone and it’s just talking anyways so where’s the harm in that?
Any other time, Buck could easily respond with a, “You’re not old.” He’d know how to do it perfectly, like a routine. He knows just the way to contort his facial muscles to look charming to the parent and in on the joke with the kid as well as shift his tone so the parent can be in on a nuanced something that their kid doesn’t need to know. And even if he was old (which he’s not), it’s not like that’s been an issue for Buck in the past. Attractivity doesn’t age out. It matures like fine wine.
But holy shit. Holy fuuucking shit this guy is hot. He’s got golden brown hair that’s been kissed by the sun which falls in effortless waves like a Disney prince, soft brown eyes that glimmer at his son, and a beautiful mustache that stands out against his tanned complexion that it’s practically impossible not to stare at his lips. And his hands, god, his hands. They look sturdy, like one could fall right into them and trust that they’d keep you safe the entire time. His whole body stays that way, every inch just solid and absolutely perfect—
So yeah. Buck’s a little distracted by this guy that he can’t even think to turn on the practiced charm.
Thankfully, some god or the universe takes pity on him, because this kid, Chris, speaks in Buck’s silence. “You are old,” he mumbles to his dad. Chris leans forward to stare at the treats in the display case.
Buck wants to say something to this dad’s defense like how he’s not that old, or maybe he just looks good for his age! Or he could even say something agreeing with Chris, to get this kid to like him even more and to try and make his dad laugh. At this point Buck will take anything. Just grant him the ability of his voice again and say something impressive and cool like:
“So, Halloween. It-it’s, uh, coming. Or, I mean, it’s here.”
Okay, so not exactly like that.
It does make this extremely hot dad smile. It’s small, closed lips so Buck doesn’t have a view of his perfect teeth again, and it’s entirely at Buck’s expense, but it’s good enough.
“Yeah. Chris makes sure to plan way in advance for costuming just to ensure we’re always set by the time the day arrives. Well, I plan, he repeatedly reminds me.”
“Smart kid. Seems Chris has the right idea.”
Great. So when Buck isn’t gawking at this man, he’s struggling to form full sentences. That’s fine and totally normal.
“Yeah,” Hot Dad smiles down at his son. “So, you guys sell bread?”
“Dad!” Chris groans.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you not want sandwiches this week? Because, you know, I can cook you-”
“No.” Chris forcefully ends his dad’s sentence. He grumbles into his arms. “Sandwiches is fine.”
Hot Dad looks back up at Buck, pleased.
“Uh, yeah, hot, bread. I mean, bread. We got bread.” Buck turns around to the shelves and starts pointing. “We got whole wheat, white, jalapeno, rye, sourdough, and ciabatta.”
“Whole wheat’s fine.”
Buck nods and the top of one slice gets caught slightly as he tries to pull the whole loaf out. His eyes flicker down to Ravi, sitting next to the cart, and they make eye contact, but say nothing. Buck readjusts the bread and pretends nothing happen.
“Alright, so will that be all for you?”
They hear some whining come from Chris, like a sad puppy. Hot Dad looks down at him and his son is pouting at him. Hot Dad sighs. “Okay, fine. We’ll get a pumpkin cupcake and…” He pauses, waiting for his son to answer.
“A mummy cookie, please!”
His enthusiasm makes Buck chuckle. “Excellent choices. Okay, great! That’ll be $15 even.”
“Wow,” Hot Dad says as he moves to get his wallet out, “that’s a bargain, don’t you think so, Chris?”
Unfortunately for him, Chris is too focused on his cookie to answer. Hot Dad shakes his head, but he’s amused. “Thank you,” he says to Buck.
Buck’s not really sure why this man is thanking him, when it should be Buck doing that. “Uh, yeah. Th-thank you.”
And he doesn’t say anything more. Because he’s an idiot.
So Hot Dad just smiles (with teeth this time!!) “Right, I better go. Before he runs away from me again.”
Then he does. Hot Dad just walks away, which is not all that much easier on Buck because wow does he even look good walking away, and it’s not until they turn the corner out of sight that Buck can think properly again. Like how to let air back into his lungs and afraid any movement might shatter the perfect moment.
“You know you undercharged them right?” Ravi’s voice breaks the silence.
Buck basically jumps. “Jesus, man.” Buck turns and leans against the table to face him. “So?”
Ravi snorts, like it’s obvious. “So have fun explaining that one to Maddie.”
“Explaining what to me?” Maddie tucks her head into the tent again.
Buck’s body flinches again. “Uh,” he says very eloquently.
“Just how terrible Buck fumbled a hot dad. You know, if you keep that up, maybe I’ll stop having something to complain about.” Ravi grins.
Hey. Hot Dad was Buck’s nickname for the guy. Buck frowns. “I did not fumble him.”
He definitely did, but he was not about to tell Ravi of all people that.
Ravi raises one eyebrow. “Really? So what’s the guys name?”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It’s wasn’t supposed to be this long. But then a week passed. And then another, and another and suddenly months have accumulated and the Diaz household has never felt so boney. And Buck watched his best friend wilt away as the days went by.
But then— Then Eddie answered the door pantsless and although something inside Buck slumps at the sight of no mustache, for the first time in months Eddie looks lighter. He looks like he’s finally breathing again. And how could Buck feel anything but relief?
And yes, Tommy. Tommy is just another dot on the list of people who have seen Buck and not found him good enough to stick around for. Its— Its—
Buck’s still processing.
Whatever. He’s doing his damnedest not to backslide because healthy coping is part of his new regimen and he’s focused on centering his feelings and frustrations into baking things for his loved ones who actually stick around.
He’s just finishing handing over a basket of banana nut loaf and chocolate chip cookies and breakfast scones into Eddie’s hands when he tells him he’s moving to Texas. And Buck is- Maddie. Abby. Alli. Taylor. Maddie. Eddie. Tommy.
Buck is fine. Buck is fine because he’s plastering a smile up on his face to show just how fine he is and holding the tablet in his hands, ready to help out. And if he holds it in front of him like a shield and tightens it to his chest to send a message from his heart through the device to tell Chris to just come home, he can still be mad as long as he comes home, then that’s between Buck and Eddie’s trusty iPad.
So Buck sits with him on the couch and tries not to think about the last time they did that. (Tommy wound still fresh, Eddie beautiful under the glow of his own joy. Now, Buck pretending it doesn’t hurt and Eddie, last straw and everything.) Buck sits with him on the couch and helps him out with the terrible nightmare that is house (and apartment, Buck somehow managed to convince him with a few accessible options he found) hunting and he sits in with meetings with realtors because he’s nothing if not thorough. When his presence confuses them a bit, then that’s just karma for number three on the bullet list. But Buck helps Eddie in everyway he can to find the best place for him, even though Buck himself will never step foot inside.
(Because Buck doesn’t want Eddie to move, are you kidding? Of course he doesn’t want Eddie to move, but what is he supposed to do? Tell him not to go and be with his son? Like hell he is. So if Buck has to rip his heart out of his chest and help it leave him just for the sake of Eddie and Chris together again, he would do it. He would do it a million times over.)
When Eddie tells him over and over that Buck didn’t really have to do all that Buck will smile and say I know. He never has to do anything for the Diazes. He does it because he wants to.
-
“Okay, and you got the address of the place, right?”
“Yes, Eddie,” except with the smile Buck puts on his face the tone comes out more like yes, dear, and Buck tries very hard to keep his composure. Both hands on the wheel now, and if Eddie looked over he would see it clear as day that Buck is barely holding it together. Thankfully, for Buck, Eddie is determined to look anywhere but at him.
“Right, okay. And you have everyone’s numbers just in case of emergency? Not that you should need it but I know you like to have that.”
Buck nods his head, like a bobble doll. “Saved in my phone.” Buck wishes he was a bobble doll. That way he could fit in Eddie’s carry on and take him with him and Eddie could put him high on a shelf and watch over his boys just to make sure they’re safe no matter what.
“And, shit, did I forget my charger?” Eddie’s turning around in his seat, rummaging through the glove compartment, and center console storage for anything he could have left behind.
“It’s in the front pocket of your bag.” Buck pulls into park. They’re here. He doesn’t feel like throwing up. “Eddie,” Buck turns his head to look at Eddie, and finally he looks at him. “It’s gonna be fine.
Eddie holds his gaze and lets out a breath. The wild look in his eyes doesn’t dissipate. “Yeah. You’re right. Fine.” His smile doesnt reach his eyes. He looks tired.
Buck sticks his tongue out just between his lips, like he does when he’s gearing up to say something, but all he comes up with is, “I’ll grab your bag.”
Buck’s unlocking the doors and unbuckling his seating and grabbing Eddie’s bag from the back. It’s a miracle Buck’s knees dont buckle underneath him from the short walk to his driver seat to the truck of his jeep. The last time the Diazes used this suitcase it was to fit both Eddie and Chris’ belongings for a week and a half trip to visit Eddie’s sisters. This time, it’s filled to the brim with just Eddie, since none of them know how long he’ll be gone.
Buck’s not brave. You’d think he would be with his job and the daring stunts he pulls. But his feet are planted to the asphalt and so instead of meeting Eddie at the passenger side, Eddie has to come to him and Buck just hands over the suitcase. They’re not exactly in front of the doors that enter to the terminal but the feelings just the same.
Eddie stands in front of him finally, and he must be fucking nervous for his flight because he looks as pale as Buck feels. He’s on the curb so he’s basically the same height as Buck but he stands so far from him, a whole two steps away. 801.6 miles is going to kill him. (Buck first googled the distance when Chris left and he would recite the number in his head, because they say getting to know something makes it less scary. Except the number stayed just as big and Chris stayed just as distant.)
He clears his throat. “Here you go.”
Eddie takes the handle from Buck and their fingers brush just a bit. One last time.
Buck’s not brave. He can’t will his feet to walk Eddie to the airport glass doors because the last time he did that for someone they didn’t return until they both long moved on. Buck doesn’t think he can survive a do-over of that. Not that it’s the same thing. Eddie’s not his girlfriend. Although he does—
Eddie doesn’t say anything so Buck says, “I’ll, um, I’ll be sure to check, check in on your place every few weeks to make sure everything’s okay. And the mail, do you want me to, to forward you your mail?” Pebbles are making their home in Buck’s throat.
“Oh, um. I hadn’t really thought of that.” Eddie’s voice sounds small.
Buck waves him off. Right, no need to stress the guy out even more. “That’s okay, I’ll figure it out.”
“Buck-”
There’s so much he wants to say to Eddie. He wants to tell him that Manta Rays are highly intelligent and the markings of their underside are specific to each one of them. He wants to tell him about the new frog exhibit at the aquarium next week. He wants to tell him about how C shift started a rumor Adrien might be pregnant due to the five missed shifts, but it’s really because she’s fighting off a nasty flu. He wants to ask Eddie to take him with even though it’s not possible and Buck doesn’t even want to go, he just wants his boys here.
But because Buck’s brain and body hate him he doesn’t say any of those things. Instead he blurts, “Are you coming back?” He’s wincing immediately because now he’s jinxed it.
Eddie almost looks surprised and then soft, “Of course.”
It’s more than Abby ever gave him. It’s a verbal, solid answer. It’s words in the air that Buck could catch in his hand if he jumps at the right time. Because Buck and Eddie are so much different than Buck and Abby ever were (he doesn’t think it’s polite to compare but he almost wants to say better?). And it’s not that he doesn’t trust Eddie or thinks he would ever lie to him, because he wouldn’t. It’s just Buck doesn’t trust his ability to convince the people he loves to stick around.
BAKING BAKING BAKING BAKING BAKING WITH OUR GUYS . THE GUYS EVER
🥮 baking / fall festivals (~ 800 wc)
“What are you doing?”
“Hm? Nothing.”
Buck turns away from Eddie’s frown and one minute he has an egg in his hand and the next he doesn’t.
“Hey!”
“I need you to fix the laundry.” Eddie’s words come out fast, like they’re in a race to get to the finish line.
Now it’s Buck’s turn to frown. “The laundry? What’s wrong with the laundry?”
“It’s… loud.”
Buck is silent for a minute and all that can be heard is the hum from the fridge and the distant effects of Chris’ video game. “The laundry… is loud.”
Buck stares at Eddie and Eddie stares at Buck and Buck raises one eyebrow and then:
“Yep.”
Buck turns away from the baking supplies in front of him. “Eddie, what’s going on?”
“OK, look,” Eddie moves out of the way when Buck tries to grab the egg back. “You know I love your cooking. We love your cooking. You’re a great cook, Buck.”
Buck warms under the sincerity of his compliment. “Thank you.”
“And… Bobby loves to bake. Athena once said he could feed a small village with the amount of baking recipes he has under his belt.”
“...Sure.”
“And you…” Eddie looks off to the side like that will help him find the right words. “You’re a great firefighter. But baking is not firefighting.”
Buck narrows his eyebrows. “I’m quite aware of that, thanks, Eddie. What are you trying to say here?”
With a sigh, Eddie gives up his dancing around and says, “You’re shit at baking.”
Buck lets out a small noise of protest. “I’m sh- I’m not shit at baking!”
“Buck.”
Buck crosses his arms over his aproned chest. He can feel the embroidered Chef Buck along his arms. “Eddie, you were the one who wanted these cupcakes.”
“Yes, and I will gladly eat anything you make. But I think as people with medical training, it would be irresponsible to poison students and parents with those cupcakes. No matter how annoying Pam is.”
Buck’s muscle’s itch to smile at that, but he can’t right now. He’s supposed to be mad at Eddie. Or, not mad, but irritated.
“What, you think you can do so much better?”
Eddie shrugs. “Actually, I think I can.”
“You can’t even cook, Eddie.” Which isn’t really true anymore because he’s been learning. He’s pretty good at the small stuff like heated sandwiches and tacos and pesto. They’re a step up from the inedible foods he would make before, but if Eddie’s going to insult Buck’s character then Buck can insult right back.
“I can follow directions.” There’s a smug look on Eddie’s face. He thinks he’s so funny.
Buck’s jaw drops. “Wow. Wow.”
Eddie’s face is slowly widening into a smile and he’s moving closer, gearing up to distract Buck with a really good kiss. Buck’s familiar with it and he could just complete the gap and lean forward to meet his mean boyfriend with a kiss. Instead, Buck leans back ever so slightly, dips two fingers in his spare bowl of flour, and streaks it across Eddie’s right cheek. Eddie scrunches his face together and the look, paired with the new flour decoration, is just so cute, it makes Buck’s annoyance melt away.
Eddie opens his eyes. “Wow. Real mature, Buck.”
Buck grins. “Thanks.” He sidesteps Eddie towards the counter next to the fridge.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, since you want to bake sooo bad, I’m just gonna be the Eddie for today and sit here pretty while you do your thing.”
It works and Eddie blushes a bit until he says, “No. You’re not allowed in the kitchen until I’m done.”
“Not allowed?”
“I’m not giving you any chances to try and sabotage me for a measly ‘I told you so.’”
Buck laughs. “I never thought I’d see the day where you’d kick me out of the kitchen. Fine.” He’s untying his apron and lifting it over his head before putting it on Eddie. He wraps his arms around his boyfriends waist to tie it in the back. “There, now you’re ready.”
And it’s really not Buck’s fault his boyfriend is pretty and rosy and he loves seeing Buck across his chest, like anyone could know that that’s his. So he kisses him with the good kiss he dodged earlier, the kind with one hand on his waist and the other cupping his jaw. Eddie leans into it and there’s probably flour spreading onto Buck’s face but he doesn’t really care with the way Eddie’s hand slides up his body. Then, it lands on Buck’s chest and pushes him off him and Buck has to blink for a second.
“Leave, saboteur,” Eddie enunciates.
It doesn’t work towards his benefit. It just draws Buck eyes to his pinkened, wet lips and Buck’s rolling his eyes before giving one last peck.
WAIT i had one more idea 😭 🎡 with hanikkar since we talked abt them the other day
🎡 state fair / carnival / first date
If Ravi knew that joining the 118 would lead him to becoming the worst cliche, he would have decided to make him parents proud and became an engineer.
OK. That might be a bit dramatic, but granted recent events, Ravi feels like he’s earned the rights to a few dramatics.
Look, before Ravi joined the 118, he was not the skittish timid guy the station knows him to be. He was charming and cool. Chill, even. The Aunties would squeeze his cheeks, his sister’s friends would whisper around him, and he knew how to be smooth with the girls. And then Buck barked at him and Buck chased him with a chainsaw and Eddie sent him a surprising amount of death glares for someone he barely spoke to. Then, Chimney invited Ravi to his little brother’s firefighter physical exam. That was the first time Ravi felt truly a part of the 118 family.
Ravi now knows he prefers the family he was born with.
It’s not that there’s anything bad about the people in the 118. Other than Buck and Eddie making everyone suffer and witness their divorced antics, and the majority of A-Shift being incredibly codependent, they’re not evil people. They’re just… all encompassing. And while Albert doesn’t work at the 118, he is Chimney’s brother so somehow he bleeds the gray area.
Albert is… If Ravi is chill (or was chill, whatever), then Albert is the King of Casual. He’s big smiles, happy-go-lucky, says everything on his mind as honest as possible. And touchy. So touchy. It’s mainly his hands, poking Ravi in the arm to get his attention, pinching him at the waist to make him squirm, patting him on the back in laughter, hand on his knee because why fucking not at this point. He’s also done a fair share of nudging Ravi’s foot under the table, knocking shoulders in passing, and of course the head to Ravi’s shoulder. Usually when this happens they’re at Ravi’s apartment or it’s a moment in passing when they’re walking into a crowded coffee shop, and Ravi can just pretend that he’s not completely bugging out. It’s worse when Albert does it around the team, but no one’s said anything so somehow Ravi’s in the clear?
But now, at the LA County Fair, Albert just grabs Ravi’s hand in his own like this is normal behavior between them, and pulls him running through the crowd, saying, “Come on!” Ravi has no choice but to let himself be tugged.
It’s so dumb the way Albert’s eyes light up and his face splits into a grin when they land in front of one of the carnival games. He looks at Ravi with no words, just his wide mouthed smile, as if he knows that Ravi’s a goner and there’s no chance on earth he’s going to be able to refuse. And it’s so utterly stupid. It’s one of those ring toss games that you see in movies to win an overpriced stuffed animal.
Ravi rolls his eyes. “These games are rigged,” he says, because he feels it’s his duty to steer his non-American-born friend away from tourist traps.
But Albert’s the type of person who might say that he is technically a tourist (he’s lived in California for years now) and traps are just an escape room waiting to happen (no that’s not true Albert, please tell me you know how an escape room works). Albert’s grin shifts into a smirk. “You’re just scared you’ll lose.”
To which Ravi laughs at Albert’s smug naivety.
They both lose, terribly, but Ravi’s not too bummed. He knew the outcome anyways so as not to get his hopes up, plus everytime Albert threw his foam ring, he had such a cute concentration face, the kind where his nose got a little scrunched up and his tongue sticks out comically between his lips. So when Albert, who has never before experienced the disappointment that is losing to a carnival game, is clearly bummed by not being able to win the green dinosaur plushie he was bragging about, Ravi has no choice but to cheer him up.
Ravi tugs on the armsleeve of Albert’s shirt. “Come on. Now that you’ve experienced the American disappointment of carnival losing, lets balance you out with a carnival joy.”
Albert raises an eyebrow, because sure, this is just another thing he’s able to do. “Which is?”
Ravi nods his head towards the giant banner not too far from them. “Funnel cake.”
Just that easily, Albert is smiling again and grabbing onto Ravi’s hand to pull them forward. Whatever, fine. In movement, Ravi can be normal. He can pretend normal.
Except this time, Albert doesn’t let go of his hand. He just chats Ravi’s ear off about his week and comparing how different American fairs are from the one’s in Korea and probably something else about Chimney because Albert loves talking about his brother. Only this time Ravi is only half listening because he’s so distracted by the fact that Albert is still holding his hand at the county fair like they’re two guys on a date and not something else entirely. Ravi is trying so hard not to look down at their hands (even though he really wants to) just in case that would be the very thing to make Albert drop them. And yes, Ravi is a total cliche by being the type of gay guy that catches feelings for their pathetically straight friend, but also who cares because Albert’s hands are softer than he would have imagined with just a few rough spots, like the hand that’s new to heavy duty work.
Albert doesn’t let go of his hand until they hand him the funnel cake.
