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One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier.
“I mean, I get it,” Buck’s saying, overhead, and Ravi’s knee-deep in literal human crap and even he can smell that shit from a mile away. “You and Tommy have a lot in common.”
“He’s a cool guy,” Eddie says evenly. “And it’s nice to finally have someone with some shared interests.”
“Right,” Buck says, and when Ravi looks up he catches the underside of his carefully blank face in the porthole of blue sky. He isn’t even looking at the harness Ravi’s attached to, either, and Ravi gets it’s difficult to watch an—ex, co-parent, current partner, the thirty-two-year-old equivalent of a situationship, whatever he said he wasn’t thinking hard about it—move on with someone else, but it’s also difficult to, you know, get out of this sewer hole alive if his teammate isn’t manning the rigging properly. Ravi gives it a little tug, just to send vibrations up to Buck’s hand.
At the same time, Eddie says, “You should see his car, Buck. He fixed it all up himself,” and Ravi makes a sound of despair as Buck’s hand lifts off the rigging, just missing his secret message, to scratch at his head, the show of faux-casual, even if his face looks like a smacked ass.
“You okay?” says the guy at the bottom of the sewer.
“Fine,” Ravi says, crabbily. “Let’s get you checked out, or whatever.”
“I changed my own tire the other day,” Buck says, above them, and Ravi jabs his fingers probably too hard at the patient’s neck to check for a pulse. The guy yelps and says, “Bro, I’m alive, I promise.”
Eddie just laughs, like he thinks Buck’s kidding. Buck makes it worse when he says, “No, I mean it,” and Ravi thinks they should really go to couple’s counselling if they insist on continuing to work together even after their separation. Surely there are healthier ways to cope than seeing your ex-spouse and the father of your child every day and needling him for details of his new partner.
“How’s it looking down there, Ravi?” Eddie calls.
“Good,” Ravi says, because he knows how to do his job. “Vitals are good, no sign of concussion, and leg is splinted. Ready to come up now.”
“Speaking of,” Eddie continues, “what are you doing Wednesday? Tommy’s invited me to karaoke and I need someone to watch Christopher.”
“You’re killing him, man,” Ravi whispers.
“Huh?” says the guy.
“Mind your business.”
Buck says, slowly, “Yes, I can do that.”
“Hello?” Ravi calls. “I’m still here?”
“Shit, hold on,” Eddie says, and starts hauling them up.
*
Somehow it gets worse.
On his first shift at the 118, Ravi was taken aside on two occasions. One was by Roberts, a paramedic on B-shift with a crew cut that showed off his unfortunately shaped head, who he’d later catch guiltily smoking on the roof. Maybe three occasions, then, because that time Roberts had pointed at him and said, “You tell anyone about this and you’re dead.”
The first time, though, Roberts said, “Whatever you do, avoid getting shafted with A-shift.” He chewed on a toothpick like someone trying to quite nicotine, or doing a Marlon Brando impersonation, or just someone not trying to quit nicotine at all and just buying time between the next cigarette. “I’ve never worked a goddamn natural disaster in my life, and they’re getting tsunamis every week. You stick with us, your life will be easy. You stick with them, you’ll be stealing helicopters and getting struck by lightning.”
Ravi thought this was funny, and then not even a year in he was being held hostage in a men’s prison. Then he started applying for retail jobs again.
The second occasion he was taken aside was by Hen. In the early days, she was the only one who actually called him Ravi instead of Probie. Buck had been chasing him around with an axe, because Buck has never been normal about anyone a day in his life, and Hen found him hidden beneath Captain Nash’s desk. “Buck’s going through some stuff right now,” she’d said, with a small, sympathetic smile. “I promise you, it’ll pass.”
It was only a few months later that Ravi finally realised: the divorce. Of course. He’d never seen Buck and Eddie wear rings around the station, but he’d joined in the eye of the storm of their marital problems, and things had only solidified as he was getting more comfortable there. It made him slightly more sympathetic to the axe, even if he thinks he freaked Buck out by saying, “I understand this must be difficult for you.”
“What?” Buck had said, still holding the axe.
“Well, with what you’re going through—”
“Ugh, probie,” Buck said, and walked away, and Ravi had put a hand quite tenderly on his own heart and thought, I hope he heals. Then he caught his reflection in the TV and felt disgusted with himself. Who was he, his mother?
Point is, he knows both Buck and Eddie have dated since, but this is the first time either of them have dated another guy, so he’s sure that has to sting. It’s why he catches Buck benching two-fifty without a spot, probably, while simultaneously eagle-eyeing Eddie across the station, who is laughing on the phone, in a way that has to be performative because no one is that funny. “Do you need a spot?” Ravi says anyway, because somehow Buck’s grown on him over the years, like moss or something, and he doesn’t need another head injury, but Buck growls, “No,” and so Ravi just walks away. It’s not like he’d be able to help, to be honest: he’s bulked up a lot since his early days at the academy, but he’s still not even two hundred pounds soaking wet, which is probably how much just one of Buck’s arms weighs.
He also knows the cardinal rule of the 118, which is pretend that this strange mating dance Buck and Eddie conduct around each other is entirely normal and not to comment on it, so when he goes upstairs to make himself a coffee and catches Hen and Chimney judging Buck over the railing of the mezzanine, he doesn’t say a word. But he hears Chimney say, “What’s crawled up his ass?”
“I think someone’s jealous,” Hen says amusedly.
“Of who, is the question?” Chimney says, and they share a conspiratorial laugh.
Wow, someone stocked up on instant coffee. Is there any creamer? Ravi isn’t listening on this conversation at all.
“Eddie’s seconds from spraying that locker room like a cat in heat,” Hen muses, after a moment. “I think someone should remind him he has a girlfriend.”
“Eddie has a girlfriend?” Ravi’s mouth says, without his permission, and Chimney and Hen turn around to look at him. Ravi hunches over his coffee cup and pretends someone else said it.
So the plot has thickened, apparently. Eddie is still together with that other woman Marisol whose name Ravi has not heard in months, and yet the person that has Buck spiralling into power-posing across the station and leaving Ravi in sewer holes is just one of Eddie’s friends? Ravi thinks Buck needs to work on his priorities. He understands their place in each other’s lives in tenuous and complicated, but if there’s anyone he should be threatened by it’s maybe Eddie’s actual romantic partner, not just some guy.
“You know how you said you were proud of your work-life separation,” says Ravi’s roommate Steven one night, as Ravi is recounting this over their weekly Fallout game.
“Yes,” says Ravi.
“I think you should reconsider.”
“It’s not even my life,” Ravi says, because this is important. He’s worked as hard to keep himself as unknowable as possible around the fire station; it if it weren’t for his turnouts, he probably could even kept his surname private. “But their life is now intruding on mine.”
“And by intruding you mean you’re willingly letting it occupy space in your head.”
“Well,” Ravi says, because he thinks Steven is being purposely ignorant of context, and also he’d like to see Steven spend fifty hours a week with these people and not become involuntarily involved in all their personal drama. The other day he found himself in conversation with Hen and Bobby about Hen and Karen’s journey with adopting a little girl, and he’d asked, sincerely, “Because your last adoptee fell through, didn’t it, when his mother got out of rehab?” and had to do a double take because how did he know that and since when. Hen had looked quite touched and said, “Yes, but we’re feeling optimistic about this one,” and Ravi thought, at once, how even quite against his will he still somehow ended up knowing everything about these people.
Anyway, Ravi says, “Well,” and, “Maybe they should try just behaving themselves in public so it doesn’t have to occupy space in my mind,” and Steven says, “Mm,” and then one of the guys on Discord they play with that Ravi honestly forgot was still on the line says, “Wait, so these guys have a kid together?”
*
On Instagram, Ravi sees that Chimney and Buck go play basketball over the weekend, which does not explain why on Monday Eddie’s the one who limps in with a crutch and boot around his ankle.
“Sports injury,” he says, when Ravi asks, and it’s so vague Ravi thinks it has to involve sex, only it’s his ankle so he’s not sure how that would have worked, and then Buck comes in looking sullen and nervous and he and Eddie aren’t looking at each other and Ravi realises that the only thing more embarrassing than a sex accident is a Buck accident. Maybe even both together.
Chimney is only marginally less evasive. “Just a rough knock during basketball,” he says, and Hen’s eyebrows lift over the rim of her glasses, but she says nothing, just has a long sip of her coffee.
“Like, Eddie fell over?” Ravi says.
“Something like that.”
What does that even mean, Ravi thinks, but then Buck is coming up the stairs, face downturned and upset, and Chimney and Hen make significant eye contact over the table.
Man, this was meant to just be a job. Ravi yearns for his days at Burger King, where he’d clock out in the evenings and not spare a thought to the day he just had, just what he was going to have for dinner and how many episodes of Always Sunny he had left to catch up on. Now he goes home and is concerned.
Eddie has only come in to collect some paperwork, so Ravi’s taken his place on calls while his foot heals. It’s almost like old times, being mistakenly called Eddie more than once by Buck. The first time this happened was when Eddie had transferred to dispatch, and Buck was surly and tetchy and upset the whole time. Ravi understood that the axe-chasing was probably just a byproduct of the recent divorce, like maybe Buck was trying to symbolically kill any grief or remaining feelings towards Eddie in Ravi, his new partner.
Now, it’s mostly just a matter of inconvenience. “Eddie, I need help over here,” Buck says, for the third time, and Ravi says, “It’s Ravi.”
“Oh—right.” Buck is pink and flushed all over, angry-looking. He won’t look Ravi in the eyes. “Sorry, Ravi.”
It’s growth, at least. Last time he hadn’t apologised.
Still, Ravi can’t help himself. On the walk back to the firetruck from the car wreckage they’d just pulled two dazed-looking teenagers from, Ravi says, “You know, maybe you should try putting yourself out there too.”
“What?” says Buck.
“You know,” Ravi says, encouraging. “Dating.”
Buck stares at him.
Buoyed, Ravi continues, “I just think, with Tommy and Marisol—”
“Oh my God, not everything is about Eddie,” Buck says, even though Ravi hadn’t even mentioned his name, and stalks ahead. Ravi decides he’s no longer getting involved.
*
Only, as it turns out, maybe everything isn’t about Eddie.
“So,” Eddie says, voice neutral, “it was nice seeing you and Tommy last night.”
“Oh, uh,” Buck says, and his cheeks have flushed. Ravi, sat across from them in the firetruck, pretends he’s anywhere else. “Yeah, you too. I didn’t realise you and Marisol were going out.”
“Yeah, it was a last-minute plan. Chris ended up going on a sleepover to his friend Jacob’s, so the house was free.”
“Jacob Marshall?” Buck says, and Eddie nods. “That’s the kid with the awful mom, right? Who drives the flashy G-Wagen?”
What looks like a smile hints at Eddie’s lips, and then he seemingly remembers the topic at hand and steels his face. Not that Ravi is paying attention, or anything. There sure are some interesting storefronts on this road. He should try come up with a fun mnemonic to remember them all and distract his mind. “That’s the one.”
“God, she was terrible. Your cake stand doesn’t cater for my husband’s very specific gluten intolerance, as though we didn’t have those gluten-free lemon bars and like she wasn’t peddling storebought cake mix.”
“Well, I thought she seemed nice when picked Christopher up,” Eddie says, crisply. Buck’s face recoils.
Walgreens. A pottery café. Huh, a new CVS has opened here too.
“Sorry, we’ve hit some traffic,” says the firefighter at the steering wheel. “Hopefully we should be on the move.”
No, take your time, Ravi thinks. Nowhere he’d rather be more than a metal box with a divorced couple hashing out their marital problems over shared custody.
“I liked the dad,” Buck says.
“Mm, I’m sure you did.”
Buck’s eyes cut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Eddie looks immediately apologetic. “I didn’t—I just. Um.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t know you and Tommy were close, is all.”
“You don’t have a monopoly on him,” Buck says. “People can have other friends too, Eddie.”
“I know that. You think I don’t know that?”
“Well, you’re being weird.”
“Were you guys on a date?”
Oh shit, Ravi thinks.
Stiffly, Buck says, “What if I was?”
“I’d—” Eddie swallows. “I’d say that that was great.”
Buck regards him. Ravi wonders, if he was really, really quiet, whether he could sneak out the window of the truck unnoticed.
“Okay,” he says, finally, but there’s something less caged in his eyes.
“That would be great,” Eddie says again, “if it was a date. I just—”
“I meant to tell you—”
“No,” Eddie says, “no, you didn’t have to tell me anything. I’m sorry. I’m fucking this all up. I guess I just didn’t—”
“Expect it?”
“Expect Tommy. To be the guy.”
Oh SHIT, Ravi thinks.
Buck’s gaze is inscrutable, but there’s something kinda disbelieving in his eyes. “What’s that meant to mean?”
“Nothing,” Eddie says. “Nothing. Sorry. Maybe I am jealous that you’re friends. I mean—”
“We’re not, like, boyfriends,” Buck says. “By the way.”
“…No?”
“We’re just casual.”
“Casual,” Eddie repeats.
“It’s modern.”
Sprouts, Ravi lists hysterically. Target. A vegan brunch place. Aunty Mary’s Laser Hair Removal. A coffee chain he sometimes gets Instagram ads for.
“Modern, okay,” Eddie says. “Uh, well. That’s good.”
“Like, just sex. We’re just screwing around.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, again, slowly. “I got that, Buck. Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?”
“Combative.”
There’s a moment they hold each other’s gazes, before Buck drops it. “Sorry,” he admits, in a soft voice. “I just… hadn’t planned on really coming out to you like that. Like, I’d been rehearsing a speech.”
…Hold up. Come out?
Eddie’s gaze softens now too. “You don’t have to rehearse anything with me, Buck.”
“I know,” Buck says, and then again, more insistent, “I know, Eddie. I promise. I just… this is important to me, and I didn’t want anything to change. You know, between us.”
Haven’t they been married? Why is Buck coming out now? Was theirs a marriage of convenience? A green card to get Buck and his white ass over from Scandinavia?
“Why would they?” Eddie says.
Buck shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Nothing changes, Buck. You’re still my best friend.”
Gratefully, Buck smiles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, dumbass. Of course. I’m sorry if I made you feel afraid to tell me—and I’m sorry for being weird at the restaurant. I guess I just hadn’t expected it, and seeing you with Tommy was just… it was a surprise.”
“Imagine how we felt,” Buck says dryly, and they laugh. Ravi has, A, been here the whole time, just as an aside, and B, also been on a rollercoaster of emotions. What did he mean come out? Why is this a big deal that Buck was on a date with a guy? “It was, uh, nice seeing Marisol, though.”
“Oh, yeah.” Eddie’s whole demeanour changes at that, and he scratches the side of his jaw. “Yeah, I, uh. I don’t know if that really… has legs.”
Now Buck’s gaze has sharpened. “What? Why?”
But before Eddie can say anything, the driver calls, “Finally, green light! We’re on the move,” and the truck lurches forward. Ravi, who has been pressed against the wall trying desperately to seem interested in the scenery outside the window, accidentally jostles his leg with Eddie in the movement, which seems to remind them both that they’re not alone here and have had an audience the whole time.
“Sorry,” Ravi mumbles, for the involuntary emotional voyeurism or leg-bumping, he’s not sure.
“It’s okay,” says Eddie, but none of them say anything else, Buck and Eddie just continuing to intensely glance at each other. Ravi would like to reiterate: he just works here.
*
“So,” Ravi broaches, one night, “Tommy—”
“Don’t even,” says Hen.
“Roger that.”
*
“I don’t get it,” Steven says. “If I left an apple core on the ground it would be swarming with them within the day. Why do pet stores get away with charging us ten dollars for a bag of mealworms?”
“If you want to start harvesting your own mealworms, be my guest,” says Ravi. Kyle the gecko is a shared expense, but Ravi had accepted him under the impression that geckos were herbivores, like himself. To find out that they were insectivorous, resulting in a shelf in Ravi and Steven’s storage cupboard is inhabited by packets of dried crickets and fruit flies, was a most dismaying revelation. “I’m content to buy them dead and by the bag.”
“You’re a bad vegetarian,” Steven says.
“I’d be more content if I didn’t have to buy them at all.”
“Carrying a five-litre bag of mealworms down the street is just a firefighting drill,” Steven says, and Ravi is about to retort that is not the same because the only comparable weight to this is a small child, who at least won’t explode into dozens of wriggling worms if dropped, but then he sees something up ahead and stops in his tracks. “What?”
“Hide me,” Ravi hisses, lifting the bag of mealworms over his head. “Hold this.”
“What?” says Steven, but does as he’s told. “Who’s there?”
“Act natural.”
“I’m holding a pound of mealworms,” Steven says.
“Just—pretend you’re talking to me.”
“I am talking to you,” Steven says, but Ravi has tuned him out, watching from behind the bag the very distinct figures of Buck and Eddie coming toward them down the street. They’re both wearing shorts, T-shirts and sunglasses, Buck with a mesh tote over one shoulder filled with oranges, holding cups of froyo and laughing. Thankfully, they haven’t seen him, probably due to his unfaltering disguise, but from his vantage point he can see them. It’s nothing out of the ordinary seeing his coworkers out and about—the amount of times he’s run into Bobby with his shirt buttoned dismaying low and Athena on his arm would almost be worrying did they not apparently shop at the same supermarket and frequent the same lunch spots—but it is when they’re walking close enough for their hips to brush, stealing bites of each other’s frozen yoghurt with their plastic spoons. “I told you to get crushed peanuts,” Eddie is saying, when they get near enough, “this always happens,” and Buck steals another bite and says, “But it just tastes so much better from your cup.”
“Can I put this down yet?” Steven says. “My arms hurt.”
“Shh,” Ravi hisses, standing very still as they draw closer. He ducks entirely behind the bag when they pass, now unable to see them and hoping he’s entirely obscured from view.
For a moment, he thinks he’s successfully gone unnoticed, and then Eddie says, as they pass, “Hi, Ravi.”
“Hello,” Ravi croaks.
“Good powerlift form, dude,” Buck says, sincerely, and then they’re walking away. Ravi lets the bag drop to the ground, arms aching with sweet relief, and watches them as they go. He feels like there’s something different about them, but he can’t tell what it is.
“Who were they?” Steven says. “Are those the guys from the firehouse?”
Ravi nods.
Steven watches their retreating backs thoughtfully. “Hm. I don’t see it.”
“Yeah,” Ravi says doubtfully—and then, right before they round the corner, out of view, Buck puts his hand in Eddie’s back pocket like something from a John Hughes movie and steals a mouthful of froyo straight from Eddie’s spoon.
“Whoa,” Steven says.
Whoa is right. All Ravi can think is that he hopes this isn’t upsetting for Christopher. It can be turbulent having parents separate and then get back together.