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The Autumn Festival was gorgeous. Stalls were set up from small businesses, crafters, creators, banks, restaurants, and even the police and fire departments. There were game stations, face painting, pumpkin carving, and more. It was good, wholesome, family fun.
Each year, a fire house was chosen to man the booth. This year was the one eighteen's turn. So Eddie and Chim were manning the booth while Hen and Buck meandered around in uniform with pamphlets to point people their way.
Flopping back into his folding chair after waving goodbye to their last visitor, Chim complained, "Man, I wish we were selling cookies."
Eddie huffed a laugh. "Not sure what cookies have to do with fire safety."
His eyes followed each group that passed. Some were dressed up, but most wore comfy clothes and light jackets. The air was just starting to nip with the promise of a cool winter. Somewhere in the park, Chris was wandering around with Pepa. He'd refused a jacket that morning, but Pepa had assured Eddie she would carry one just in case he changed his mind. It was still warm enough that Eddie's own jacket was draped over his chair, leaving him in just his LAFD t-shirt and pants.
"Look around, Diaz," Chim said, motioning to the other booths full of visitors. "If you wanna bring in the masses, you gotta have food. And what food do people like most? Baked goods."
He said it so seriously that Eddie couldn't help but crack a smile. "Maybe if you radio Cap, he'll bring some by."
It was a joke, but Chim snapped his fingers at him. "That is an excellent plan. I'll be right back."
Chim spun around his folding chair to rustle around in the gear they'd brought. A man approached their booth and Eddie stood to greet him.
"Hey there."
"Hi," the man said, his eyes briefly taking in the pamphlets on fire safety, the smoke alarms, the pens with the department logo on them, before lifting them to Eddie. "Hey, listen. I've always been interested in fire fighters and what they do, and I just got laid off when my company got sold to a new owner. Do you have any info on how to apply?"
Eddie grabbed one of the pamphlets from the table and handed it to the man. "That'll have all the contact information and steps in there. I'm really sorry about your job, man."
With a heartfelt thank you, the man turned and walked away. Eddie watched him go, disappearing into the crowds, and hoped things worked out for him—firefighter or not.
"Eddie! On your left!"
Eddie immediately stepped to the right, just in time for something to fly passed him on the left. Then Chim shouted in shock and outrage, right alongside the splashing sound of water. When Eddie glanced back, Chim's entire back was soaked, with bits of broken water balloon clinging to his clothes.
Laughter accompanied Buck as he approached the booth. There was a plate of apple fritters in one hand, the other on his stomach while he laughed, and the left side of his face had been painted with flames.
Shaking his head, Eddie crossed his arms. "You're meant to be working, not playing around, Buck," he admonished, but it held no heat.
Just as Buck started to answer, Chim flipped around. "Buck! What the hell!"
"It's water, Chim," Buck said with a shrug. "Figured it'd help you cool off." He held the plate of fritters up without looking and Eddie took one and began to eat. "Besides, now it's like you were part of a wet t-shirt contest."
His amusement did not transfer to Chim. Expression dead serious, he said in monotone, "I'm telling Bobby."
Buck's eyes widened comically. He set the plate down on the booth and hurried around it to try to reason with Chim not to tell Bobby. It was so much like a kid panicking over someone calling their dad that Eddie had to stifle a laugh or else choke on his fritter.
Four people came up to the booth while Chim and Buck argued—more and more playfully over time—all drawn there by the unassuming plate of food. And while disappointed that the food wasn't for visitors, they all left with a complimentary smoke alarm.
…
...
Most times when Bobby and Athena hosted a family get together, either Bobby cooked or they got catering. But Karen had discovered a recipe for chicken roulade and liked it so much she wanted to share. Then Chim had exclaimed that he knew a mean beoseot gangjeong recipe Albert taught him that could be a side dish. Buck chimed in asking if he could bring Peruvian tacos. And so Bobby offered the Grant-Nash house as the location of a one-eighteen A shift potluck.
The house was full of the actual firefighters from A shift, plus their families and a few other friends. Most of the kids were darting around the backyard, looking for hiding places, while Denny covered his eyes and counted. Hen, Chim, and Buck watched them fondly from the deck chairs. In Chimney's arms was Jee-Yun, dozing easily now that her dad had brought her outside where it was quieter, instead of standing inside with all the chatter and music.
Every time someone new arrived, there was a chorus of cheers inside to welcome them, and Buck turned around in his seat to see who had come in.
"Soon, you'll be big enough to play with the other kids," Chim promised his sleeping daughter, gently rocking her in his arms. "You'll run circles around them."
Hen laughed. "She'll be at least three feet shorter than any of them. I doubt she'll be winning any races."
Chim stuck his tongue out at her. "Don't listen to her, Jee-Yun," he said seriously, gaze falling back to his daughter. "She's just jealous that you're gonna be prettier and more athletic than she is."
"Oh shut up," Hen said, reaching over to slap Chim on the arm, but she was grinning.
Buck grinned too, until he heard the cheers again. Then he turned around to see who had arrived. This time it was Eddie, with Christopher and Pepa in tow, several containers of food hanging from his arms. Abuela must have insisted on cooking for everyone.
"Aw, look at that smile," Hen teased. "Happy to see your boys, huh?"
Buck shrugged, not shaking off his fond smile, and settled back into his chair to watch the kids playing some more.
"Now he can stop checking the door every five minutes," Chim noted.
Off-handedly, Buck flipped him off while taking a drink from his beer. Hen shook her head at them, then focused on Buck.
"Speaking of, I thought I heard a little bird say something about you making a move," she said.
Chim's eyes widened when Buck only blushed. "Wait, really? How did you hear about it?"
With a shrug, Hen revealed, "Maddie."
"What? She didn't tell me," Chim whined. In his arms, Jee-Yun began to fuss, and his attention immediately focused back on her, rocking and making soothing noises until she calmed again.
"So?" Hen prompted, leaning toward Buck in her chair.
Buck shrugged one arm. "I mean. Yeah. I've been doing some…probing," he settled on. "I think he'll say yes if I ask. And I already got permission from Christopher."
Hen nodded. "Oh yes. Gotta have his permission, of course."
"Of course," Buck agreed.
Just then, Eddie stepped outside carrying a Tupperware and a spoon. He approached the deck chairs with a pleasant, "Hey, guys."
They all chorused 'Hey' back, and Hen and Buck waved in greeting. Chim couldn't because of the baby. Stopping by Buck's chair, Eddie scooped a spoonful of the stuff in the Tupperware and held it out to Buck.
"Try this. Abuela made it," he said before anyone could comment on his lack of cooking skills. "It's ceviche."
Buck opened his mouth and Eddie stuck the spoon in even as both Hen and Chim gasped, "Wait!"
Buck chewed for a bit, made a noise of appreciation, and swallowed. "That's really good."
Eddie smiled. "That good to hear. She made it especially for you." He closed the Tupperware and nodded toward the house. "I'll put it with the rest of the food. Make sure you come get some before it's all gone."
"You know I will!" Buck promised. After Eddie had walked off, Buck noticed Hen and Chim's matching panicked faces. "What?"
Hen grabbed his hand and felt his pulse. "Normal. How's your breathing?"
Buck frowned, confused, and Chim spoke before he could answer. "You're allergic to shellfish, Buckaroo, and you just ate ceviche." No reaction. "Which is made with shellfish? How are you not going into anaphylactic shock right now?"
"Ceviche is made with shellfish?" Buck asked. When they nodded, he hummed, then shrugged. "I don't know, you guys. There wasn't any shellfish in it."
Both medics let out heavy sighs of relief. Last thing anyone needed was another Buck Hospital Trip at a group party.
"You gotta ask what's in stuff before you just stuff it in your mouth, man," Chim admonished.
"But it's Eddie," Buck argued. "He knows about my allergy."
Before either Hen or Chim could point out that everyone made mistakes, and what if he hadn't told his abuela about the allergy before she made the ceviche, or what if Eddie didn't know something was made with shellfish, Buck's other favorite Diaz came out the backdoor.
"Buck!" Christopher called, even as he made his way over.
Chim and Hen exchanged a look while Buck greeted Christopher. Their golden retriever was well gone over Eddie Diaz. At least he planned on confessing soon, so they wouldn't have to deal with the pining anymore.
…
...
Like with Buck, back when he first joined the one eighteen, Bobby had begun to try and teach Eddie how to not burn everything he touched in a kitchen. Also, like with Buck, they had started with breakfast. Eddie had taken a full week to not destroy an egg, but now could make scrambled and over easy eggs, as well as a simple omelet. Then came the blueberry baked oatmeal, banana pancakes, and waffles that tasted like carrot cake. Today was French toast.
"Now, you're going to put the almond milk, maple syrup, millet flour, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt into the bowl, plus," Bobby grabbed a bag on the counter and showed it to Eddie. "Nutritional yeast."
"Nutritional what?" Eddie asked, taking the bag and looking it over. While the bag was blue, the yeast inside was yellow. What even was yeast?
"Yeast," Bobby repeated patiently. "Like what's used to make bread. It's dairy free and has a lot of vitamin B12 and protein."
Eddie put the bag back on the counter, slowly, as if afraid it would jump up and bite him. "And…what does it taste like?" Health foods always made him nervous.
A shrug. "Kind of cheesy, nutty. Along with the almond milk, it'll give the toast that eggy essence without actually using any eggs."
"Right," Eddie said absently, watching as Bobby began to measure and add each ingredient to the bowl.
The first time was always more watching than doing on Eddie's part. The second time would be when he had to actually participate. Once all the ingredients were in the bowl, Bobby picked up a whisk and began to, well, whisk.
Once the ingredients were well blended, Bobby grabbed the loaf of bread that had been sitting on the counter and showed it to Eddie, made him hold it and feel it. It was ciabatta, day-old, nice and sturdy. Regular sandwich bread wouldn't hold up and would come out soggy.
"Do not make them soggy toast, Diaz," Bobby said, like a threat. And Eddie knew he meant both Christopher and Buck.
"I won't, Cap," he promised, and prayed he never did. Buck would tell Bobby about it, and then Eddie would be dead. Athena probably wouldn't even investigate.
Just as Eddie had set the bread back on the counter, Buck came bounding up the stairs. He lit up at the sight of Eddie, which made a matching smile bloom on Eddie's face too. In a few long strides, Buck had made it over to them. Hands behind his back, he leaned over his boyfriend's shoulder—rather than stepping to the side—to see the food. Eddie's heart hammered in his chest, just like every other time Buck stood so close.
"What's on the menu today?" he asked.
"Vegan French Toast," Bobby told him.
Buck's eyes sparkled and he turned his face to plant a quick kiss on Eddie's cheek. "Thanks."
Flushing, Eddie nodded. "Of course."
Still smiling, Buck stepped back and said, "Hold out your hands."
Eddie did. Buck pulled his hands from behind his back and placed something soft into Eddie's palms. When he took his hands away, Eddie saw a pair of gray socks. His gray socks.
"Found those in my laundry last night," Buck explained. "Washed and folded. All you gotta do is slip 'em on." He grinned at his own tease.
Nodding, Eddie said, "Thanks a lot," and slipped the socks into a side pocket on his pants. "I think I've got a few of your clothes at my place too. You want me to bring them?"
Buck shook his head. "Nah. Means less worry if I crash at yours." He winked.
"Alright, alright," Bobby interrupted, holding up his hands. He pointed at Buck. "Go check the trucks are stocked." He pointed at Eddie. "Don't get distracted in the middle of cooking. That's the easiest way to burn something. The food, yourself, or your house."
Eddie apologized and Buck laughed as he escaped. Only once the bread had been soaked in the milk and spices mixture and was sitting in the skillet to cook did Bobby say anything not related to cooking.
"You trust Buck a lot, huh." It wasn't really a question, just an observation.
Frowning, Eddie asked, "Why wouldn't I?"
Bobby shrugged, though there was something mischievous in his expression. "I'm just making an observation. He could've been handing you a bug, or a dirty rag, or anything, but you just held out your hands without question."
Eddie narrowed his eyes. What was Buck, a five-year-old? "I trust him not to do something like that."
A nod. "Which is good. It shows you have a healthy relationship. But it's doubly good in the field."
Because they could get each other to do things without having to take the time to explain it, in situations where every second counted.
"Anyway, after a minute or two, you want to flip the bread over. You're looking for a nice golden-brown color, nothing darker than say," Bobby flipped a slice of bread over in the skillet, revealing a deep golden-brown color, "that. See?"
And the lesson continued.
…
...
The bar was as loud as it usually was on a karaoke night. The off key rendition of Top 40 hits replacing the typical radio, people cheering on their friends or anyone who was particularly good—or particularly bad. And the one eighteen, minus Bobby, was playing pool.
"Where's Maddie?" Karen asked from her seat at the booth nearest the pool table. When her first shot had knocked a ball clear off the table, she'd politely backed out of the game. Albert had nearly given himself a hernia laughing.
Chim shrugged one shoulder before leaning over the table to line up his shot. "She decided to stay home with Jee-Yun." He shoved his cue stick forward, glancing off a striped ball. As it bounced into other balls—but failed to knock any into a hole—Chim continued, "I'm kind of glad she did. I don't know that I trust a babysitter when she's still so young."
"Chim, they're called baby sitters for a reason," Hen reminded him with a grin. He waved her off.
"I don't know, I'm with Chim on this one," Buck piped up, setting his beer down on the high top between him and Eddie.
"Of course you are," Eddie muttered, though he was smiling like Buck was telling a joke.
Buck glanced at him, then gestured to the group. "I'm serious. Everyone who I would trust with my little niece is either here, or at Bobby's. I don't want a stranger around her. How do we know we can trust them not to hurt her?"
Chim snapped his fingers and pointed at Buck as if to say, 'Exactly!' Buck pointed back. Eddie rolled his eyes, grabbed the bottle off the table between him and Buck, and took a long drink, then put it back just in time for Buck to grab it up again.
Hen lined up a shot and bam, a solid into the corner pocket. Albert cheered, "That's what I'm talking about. See, brother, some people can aim." Which made Chim flip him off and everyone in the group chuckle.
On Hen's next shot, the ball just barely missed going in. That meant it was Eddie's turn. He slid off his seat and put his own beer on the table next to Buck's. Before he could walk off, Buck slid out of his own seat and clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder.
"I'm gonna go grab another beer. You want one?"
A nod. "Get me your kind though. Tastes better."
Albert huffed. "Why bother? You'll just drink from his anyway."
Buck rolled his eyes with a smile and walked off toward the bar. Meanwhile, Eddie picked up his cue stick and pointed it at Albert, though they were an entire pool table apart.
"And I'll still kick your butt at pool," Eddie said like a challenge.
"It's three against two, Diaz," Albert challenged back, puffing up his chest.
Eddie rolled his shoulders and approached the pool table. "The only numbers that count are the balls in the holes, Han."
"Hey hey hey, no more talking about balls and holes around my baby brother, alright?" Chim piped up, pointing a finger at each of them in turn, like a disappointed father.
At her booth, Karen snorted, and had to cover her mouth to keep from spitting up her drink.
…
...
When Eddie walked into his house, Christopher right behind him, the smell of ocean breeze laundry detergent hit him like, well, an ocean breeze. As soon as Christopher caught a whiff, he smiled.
"Bucky's here!"
Christopher hurried to put his school bag by the coffee table, where he would do his homework later, and then went off down the hall in search of his best friend. Instead of following, Eddie headed for the kitchen for a glass of water. The heat today was almost unbearable.
It was not uncommon for Buck to already be in Eddie's house when Eddie got home. The first time, Eddie had chastised him, saying the key he'd had cut for Buck was for emergencies only.
"I was out of rice. It was an emergency," Buck had argued.
The reminder that there was a store two minutes from Buck's house, versus the twenty minute drive to Eddie's—who might not have even had rice, had done nothing to change Buck's mind.
After that, it became a thing. Eddie stepped through the door and Buck was on his couch watching trashy T.V. Eddie came home and Buck was napping in his bed. Eddie opened the door and Buck shouted from somewhere further in to 'Watch your step! I just mopped!' Eddie got home after a shift without Buck to find that Buck had stopped by and left baked goods or dinner. Sometimes Eddie would get home and find a movie case out on the coffee table, the disc still in the player even though the tv was off, proving Buck had been there at some point. Sometimes he did his laundry at Eddie's, like today.
At one point, Eddie had asked why Buck hung out in his house even when he and Christopher weren't there. Buck had said, "Because I can still feel you here even when you aren't."
There were toys and knickknacks and things taped to the fridge that showed a family lived there. Photos on the wall, the colorful controlled chaos of Christopher's room, the feel of Eddie's sheets. When Buck was at Eddie's house, even alone, he didn't feel alone.
"It's always like," he'd struggled to explain, "Like any moment, you'll open the door and say 'We're home!' or one of you will come down the hall and ask me a question."
So Eddie didn't mind coming home to know Buck was, or had been, there. Like for Buck, it made Eddie feel like Buck actually lived there. Like any day, Buck would greet him at the door with 'Welcome home!' instead of 'Welcome back!' Because it wasn't just his and Christopher's home anymore. It was Buck's too, if he wanted it.
He really needed to ask Buck to move in. Six months of this and Eddie wanted it every day, not just whenever Buck happened to come over.
Arms wrapped around Eddie from behind and he nearly dropped his water cup. "Hey there," Buck greeted in a low hum.
Eddie flailed out of his grip. "Ugh, ew. Get off. It's way too damn hot for you to be clingy."
Buck laughed but released him. "Chris let me hug him."
Placing his cup in the sink, Eddie said, "Yeah. He'd let you hug him while in a volcano, too. It's still too hot for hugs."
Conceding with a nod and a raise of his shoulders, Buck leaned against the counter. "So, I've been thinking."
"Never a good thing," Eddie teased, then kissed Buck's playful pout away.
"Rude," Buck admonished, even as he kissed back. Three kisses in, he pushed Eddie back to arm's length. "I've been thinking," he repeated.
From down the hall came Christopher, changed out of his school clothes into something more comfortable. He made a beeline for the coffee table and started pulling out his school work in that slow yet methodical way of his. What had Buck promised him to get him working so fast?
"My lease is up at the end of the month," Buck continued, even as Eddie's attention drifted. He scuffed his toe into the tile floor. "So I was thinking maybe I'd find a new place. Closer to here. And we're off on Saturday. Do you want to help me lo—"
"Move in."
Buck's words halted abruptly, and he let out a squeak of a 'hm?'
Taking a deep breath to bolster himself, Eddie tried again. "Move in. Here. With us."
Hope, then hesitation, crossed Buck's face. "Are you sure, Eddie? Moving in? That's a—That's a big step."
Eddie snorted. "You're already over here most days, half the time without me. I don't know if you've noticed, Buck, but there's no one else I'd rather have here. I'm not looking for an out. This is long term. The full ride." Buck's eyes were shimmering and he pressed his lips together to hold back his emotions. "So, just, move in already."
Buck quickly wiped his face and cleared his throat. "You're sure?"
"He's sure," Christopher piped up from the living room, making both adults laugh.
Shrugging, Buck said, "Alright." He nodded. "Okay. I'll move in." He smiled, still looking like he was half a second from happy tears.
Eddie couldn't help himself. He leaned in to give Buck another kiss. Then he made sure he held Buck's gaze and, still so close they were sharing each other's air, said, "Welcome home, Buck."
…
…
fin