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“Cara. My office. Now, please,” Captain Elena Rivera, of the EPFD Station 6, barks. She doesn’t slam the door, but Cara can tell it’s a close thing.
Cara groans and gets up. It has been… a horrible two shifts. Actually, it has been a horrible life, because she was born in stupid fucking El Paso and still lives and works in stupid fucking El Paso, surrounded by her stupid fucking El Paso friends and family and the worst coworkers in the world. But the last two shifts in particular. Absolutely horrible. Dreadful.
And she knows just who to blame.
“Diaz started it,” Cara proclaims as she walks through the door.
Elena just arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow and gestures to the chair in front of her desk.
Cara sits, because mad as she is, she's not about to start questioning orders from her Captain.
“Started what?” Elena asks, rubbing her temples. Cara shifts a little guiltily, because she’s not trying to stress Elena out. She just happens to have a natural talent for it.
“Whatever it is I'm being called in here for. I’m telling you, he’s the one that keeps butting heads with me.”
Elena looks at her pointedly, with those sharp, piercing eyes, and Cara flushes. “It's not my fault,” she mumbles. “But I’m sorry. I’m trying, I really am.” She knows Elena has been having a rough time with the superiors, and she’s been trying to be helpful. Diaz just… gets under her skin, in a way none of the other assholes she has to work with do.
Elena sighs. “Thank you. Cara, he… Look, I get that he's a little… closed off. But cut him some slack, okay? He's going through a rough patch.”
Closed off. Right. Because that’s the thing, Diaz is closed off, but he’s also… oppressively present.
“You don't get it, Ellie,” Cara says. “He's so- oh my god. On the one hand, yes, he’s just- I mean we’re meant to be partners and I bet you he doesn’t even know my first name. It’s like he doesn’t even want to try to know me. Which, fine, whatever. I’ve worked with worse, I wouldn’t care if he would just actually keep to himself, you know? But he doesn’t!”
Cara knows she’s standing now, and gesturing wildly, but Elena looks more amused than annoyed now so she’s going to take that as permission to vent. “Instead he wants to just keep- keep bringing up his life in LA like it’s my fault he moved here. Everything I do, every single thing, it's all- ‘oh well back in LA , we…’ and ‘ at the 118 we used to…’. And Buck! Oh my god, Buck. If I never hear that stupid name for the rest of my life it would be too soon. ‘If Buck was here, we'd be out already. If Buck was here, there wouldn't even be a fire.’ Christ, if Buck was here, world peace would be achieved and humans would grow wings and fly freely in the sky, probably! If he loves his team and his Buck so much, why did he have to leave it all and come here? And become my problem?”
Cara sits back down, flushed and panting and furious. Elena looks like she’s trying not to laugh, but she reaches out and takes Cara’s hand before Cara can take offence and now Cara is flushed for a totally different reason.
“He did it for his son,” Elena says softly. “As I understand it, Diaz grew up here, and his parents have all but kidnapped his son.”
“Oh.” Well. Okay, well now Cara just felt bad. She hopes the son is okay.
Still doesn’t mean Diaz has to be a dick about it.
“I feel for him,” Cara says. “I really do. But it is infuriating working with a partner who never talks to you except to measure you up against someone else. If I have to hear about Buck one more time, I'll off myself.”
Elena looks at Cara with a… conflicted expression. Almost a nervous one. Certainly one she doesn't remember ever seeing on her cool-headed Captain before. She lets go of Cara’s hand and sits up a little straighter. “Are you that against his… partnership?” Elena asks before Cara can mourn the loss of her warm, rough hand.
Cara blinks, because why would she care? She's all for Diaz's partnership, actually, she thinks Diaz should up and go right back to his partner and leave her the fuck alone.
Then it strikes her. “Oh. Ohhhhh… No, no, Ellie, I'm not, like, homophobic or anything. Like kudos to him for finding love on the job or whatever. Cute husband, cute kid, glad his life is so great. He just pisses me off.”
Hell, Cara is self aware enough to know what she was really feeling was jealousy. Look at this kid, who started out in El Paso just like she did, but then somehow fucked off to LA and found himself a child and a hot gay lover. Meanwhile Cara still has to go to family brunch on Sundays and listen to how firefighting isn't really ‘a profession befitting a lady,’ and ‘have you found a husband yet, dear?’.
Elena smiles, looking oddly relieved. “El Paso isn't LA; he knows that, and I know that. He had his pick of any firehouse here, and he chose the 36 because we're the only one in the city with a female Captain.”
Cara groans. “Aw, Ellie, don't- don't tell me that. You'll make me like him,” she complains. “This isn't fair, you're playing dirty.”
Elena chuckles deeply, and Cara tries not to squirm at the sound. “Look,” Elena says. “He hopes his position here is a temporary one, and I hope that for him too. Meanwhile, how about you try and get along with him? I didn't partner him with you as a punishment; I did it because you're one of the few people I trust entirely to not be prejudiced against him.”
Cara groans again. This just wasn't fair. But… Fine. Whatever. She'd put up with the brooding silences and snippy little comments and try her hardest not to strangle him with the firehose. She could do that. For Elena.
“Here.” Cara chucks a protein bar at Diaz’s head. “You haven't eaten yet.”
Diaz raises an eyebrow, but he picks the bar off the ground and unwraps it obligingly. “Thanks, Alvarez,” he says with a small smile, and oh. Okay. So maybe she did tend to instigate their fights.
God. She should apologize, shouldn't she? Or just… clear the air. Be mature.
This sucks. She doesn’t want to be mature. She wants to beat Diaz’s stupid ass up.
She checks that the station kitchen is empty, then clears her throat. “Look. I just… I'm sorry.”
Diaz looks a little surprised, which makes her feel so much worse. She feels tempted to throttle him about it. “What are you sorry for?” He asks.
“For being a dick,” she says bluntly. “I was being immature, and jealous, and- it- it wasn't about you. Not really.”
Diaz continues looking at her, and then he snorts. And then he laughs, genuinely laughs. She's never seen him laugh. She didn't even know he had teeth!
“Sorry,” he snickers. “Sorry, this just reminds me- my first day at my firehouse, I had pretty much the exact same issue with someone on the team.”
Cara quirks her lips a little. He always talks about his old firehouse in present tense, like the 36 is just borrowing him instead of him transferring over. “Yeah? What happened then? Did you end up killing him?”
“Well, we’ve been partners for 7 years, so…” Diaz looks down a little bashfully, cheeks all pink, shy in a way she only sees him go when he’s talking about ‘Buck’, and god damnit she doesn’t hate the new guy anymore.
Infuriating.
“Look. Just- just to clarify. I'm not- like, homophobic,” Cara says. She needs Diaz to know that she hates him on his own merit, and not because she’s a homophobe.
“...okay? Neither am I.”
“Good,” Cara nods, though she didn't really need the clarification from him.
“Um. Yeah. Good,” Diaz agrees awkwardly. They stare at each other for a few seconds, conversation having dried up entirely.
Cara sighs. You wanna have a conversation with someone from LA, you have to do it yourself. People in big cities are always horrifically bad at social interaction.
“So, your partner. Buck, right?” Cara encourages, taking a seat next to him. He looks surprised, but he smiles.
“Yeah,” he says. “Buck. He's… god. He used to be so hot headed and impulsive when he met. Still is, sometimes. The kindest, most loving man I’ve known through it all, though. Do you wanna see photos?”
She's already seen photos, because the first and only personal effect Diaz brought into the firehouse was a picture of him, Buck and their kid that he keeps taped inside his locker, but she nods anyway.
He shows her a couple more, and okay, they're cute. The kid is just a perfect replica of Buck, so he must be the biological dad. Eddie sounds so proud of them as he speaks, so loving as he brags about them.
It’s disgustingly adorable. Cara hopes Elena is proud of her for not resorting to physical violence in response, because honestly, it would be more than justified at this point.
Turns out, Diaz is actually a pretty fun guy when you get to know him.
“Alvarez! Diaz! Back to work!” Elena orders, but her lips twitch a little. Cara snickers, and Eddie isn't doing better off. “Suit up and retrieve Delgado while the paramedics check out our other victims.”
She doesn’t check that they’re following orders before going to check on, y’know, the actual general public that the EPFD are hired to help.
Cara turns to Diaz. “I'm just saying-”
“No,” Diaz insists firmly, though his lips are twitching. “We cannot leave Delgado there just because he's an asshole.”
They both look up at Delgado, who’s managed to tie himself to the ladder with the firehose. He struggles and swears, only getting himself more caught up in the process.
“I'm just saying,” Cara continues. “You can’t deny it would solve a lot of our problems! And, I mean, who gets themselves trapped in the hose anyway? For all his cocky alpha male bullshit, he's kind of… really shit at the job.”
Diaz chuckles. “Hey now, he's an integral part of the firehouse. From what I've heard, Delgado's been here for decades, setting examples for the probies. I mean, what better way to teach ‘em all the ways you could fuck up on the job, right?”
Cara snorts.
Delgado's always been an ass, and she’s pretty sure Diaz never liked him, but she's also pretty sure his hatred of Delgado ratcheted up to an 11 when he caught the guy calling Cara a dyke. Which is nice of him.
It would be nicer if he could be petty with her and leave him hanging up there for a few hours, but oh well.
They help Delgado out. Not very gently, though — she's pretty sure she nearly strangles him with the hose at one point. The best part? Diaz then proceeds to congratulate her on a ‘skilled rescue’, clearly not begrudging her mildly violent tendencies.
But she doesn't actually kill anyone, so she's giving herself that one.
Eddie is loitering around in the firehouse kitchen when Cara catches up to him. He smiles at her, because it’s nice to have a friend here that isn’t his Captain.
“Um, look. Diaz.”
“Hm?” Eddie asks, grabbing a snickerdoodle from the tin on the counter. He takes a bite, then frowns, and sets it back down. Buck got him too used to the good stuff. Maybe if he asked nicely, Buck would send a batch over? Can you send homemade baked goods in the post?
“These are… Hm,” Eddie says, looking for a glass to wash away the dryness in his mouth.
“I made those,” Cara frowns.
“...Oh.” Eddie says awkwardly. He coughs. “Um, they're- they're great! Super tasty, I'm just, uh- full.”
Cara raises an eyebrow and Eddie flushes.
She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, look. Diaz.”
“You can call me Eddie,” Eddie reminds, as he keeps doing. She continues to stubbornly pretend like she can’t hear him.
“Listen. I just wanted to say… uh, thank you,” Cara shifts.
“For what?”
“For- for being a dick to Delgado with me.”
“I mean… you're welcome?” Eddie says, confused. “It's not like I like him.” Delgado was an asshole, plain and simple. He was egotistical with no real skills to back it up, and he went around tossing homophobic and transphobic slurs at everyone. He’s not a difficult guy to dislike.
“I know. I mean, I knew you wouldn't. Like obviously, I knew you weren't a homophobe, because you're…” Cara trails off.
Eddie waits, and she gestures vaguely. “Y’know,” she says, like she’s expecting him to finish the sentence.
“… because I'm from L.A.?” Eddie guesses, a little confused. L.A. was arguably a lot more LGBT-friendly than El Paso. He supposes it’s a fair assumption to make that someone who’d lived in the city for a while would be less likely to be homophobic.
“... ‘From L.A.’ Sure. Which is why I wanted to tell you that I'm also… I mean. I haven't said this to anyone yet, but, um…” Cara fidgets, shifting from foot to foot.
Eddie has only known her for a couple of shifts, but she’s never struck him as the type to get anxious. Suddenly, Eddie realizes what she’s trying to say, and he stands up a little straighter and tries to look open and encouraging as he waits.
“I just… need to say this. Or- I, I want to. To someone. And you’re here, and you’re… I wanna just say… you're really brave. For- for moving to L.A., and for being yourself. And I'm not ready to do all of that yet, but I think… Eventually. Maybe not in L.A., maybe here, with… anyway. Just… that’s- it’s pretty cool of you.”
Okay, maybe Eddie doesn’t know where this is going. He blinks, a little confused.
“I'm also ‘from L.A.’, Diaz,” Cara says, like she’s clarifying something, except now Eddie is really confused. He thought she might have been coming out to him, but apparently she’s talking travel plans?
“You said you'd never lived anywhere but El Paso,” Eddie points out. Cara groans.
“Oh my god- that was your stupid metaphor. I'm gay, okay? I'm gay too!”
Diaz startles at her outburst, but then gentles immediately. “Hey,” he says softly. “Hey, Cara. That's so- that's amazing. Thank you for telling me.”
He pulls her into a hug, and she hugs back tight enough that she’s crushing his ribs. He holds on and doesn’t pull away from the hug until she does.
He can’t imagine it’s easy being gay here. Eddie remembers all the slurs he’s heard thrown around, how normalized the prejudice is here. Cara is around his age, so she must have had a lot of the same experiences. He’s seen how the other guys at the firehouse treat her; Captain Rivera puts a stop to it where she can, but whatever Cara gets, Rivera gets ten times worse. If this were the 118, Bobby would have half the guys here fired, but he’s guessing that’s not a privilege you get at El Paso. He doubts Rivera has much support from the higher ups.
“God,” Cara laughs a little, finally pulling away. She wipes at her cheeks, and Eddie obligingly pretends not to notice. “I've never said that to anyone before. I mean, obviously it's easier with you because I knew you were gay, but it was still so scary.”
Wait, what?
“I'm not gay,” Eddie says with a frown.
“Okay, bi, or, or whatever else,” Cara waves him off. “You know what I mean.”
“I really don't. I'm straight.”
Cara looks at him like she’s the confused one “What? But you were the who said you were ‘from L.A.’”
“Cara,” Eddie says slowly. “Not everyone from L.A. is gay.” She thought he was gay just because he moved to L.A.? What the hell kind of place does she think L.A. is?
“Oh my god, I know that,” Cara exclaims. “You were the one who started with the stupid metaphor-”
“Why do you keep saying that? There’s no metaphor! I meant I just moved here from L.A.!”
“You have a husband, what do you mean you're straight?”
“I- what?” Eddie feels like he’s been hit over the head with a baseball bat. “What husband?”
“Buck,” she says, frustrated. “I mean, you parent a kid together, so I assumed you were married-”
“Chris isn’t- Buck isn’t-” Well, Buck is , in some sense, a parental figure for Chris, but-
“So, what, you just parent his kid for him?”
“Hey!” Eddie protests. “Buck parents Chris for me.” Then he realizes what he just said and blinks a little.
“Christopher is your son? Like biologically?”
“Yes,” Eddie hisses.
“Huh. Thought it was the other way around. Anyway, so you and Buck and Chris aren’t a happy gay family?”
“No,” Eddie stresses. Then pauses. “Okay, maybe we’re family in a sense, but we’re not- we’re not a gay one. Or, well, he’s bisexual, but- y’know.” They weren’t much of a happy family right now either.
“You co-parent a child with a bisexual man, the same man whose photo you have up in your locker. You talk about him all the time, to the point where I want to smash my head into a wall. You walk into your first shift at the firehouse with a basket of baked goods he made and sent you in with. And you’re telling me you do all of this… heterosexually?”
She sounds suspicious. When she puts it like that, Eddie can’t help but be suspicious too.
He… is straight, right? Hell, he was still hung up on his first wife, which is the only reason they’re in this whole situation. Not that he’s looking for a second wife, not anymore. He’d tried with Ana, and he’d tried with Marisol, and he’d thought he’d manage to keep one of them so Chris would… have a mother…
What was it that Shannon asked him that one time? If Eddie only saw her as Christopher’s mother?
‘That’s not the way you talk about someone you’re in love with’.
Is he- no, he knows- suddenly, it’s like all these little thoughts, these little moments are rushing back. Moments when Eddie had almost known, and pushed it aside, because he couldn’t be, he couldn’t be. Like that time with Alex Paxton- or when he’d watched Risky Business alone and- or when Buck-
No. No. He was a father and a widower and he wasn’t supposed to-
“I am so sorry,” Cara says, guiding him to a stool and breaking him out of his thoughts.
“Um.” Eddie wets his lips. “That’s… it’s okay,” he says shakily, even though it’s really, really not.
“So do you think you’re…?” She asks hesitantly.
“I don’t… I don’t know.” He can’t be. He can’t.
“Okay.” She gets on the stool next to him, and bumps her shoe against his. “That’s okay. You’ll figure it out.”
She sits with him quietly while he thinks. Lets the thoughts swirl in his head, confusing and contradictory. After about half an hour, Eddie breaks the silence. “Hey, um… after shift. Could we go out for coffee or something?”
“Asking me on a date, Diaz?” She teases, and when he laughs weakly, she knocks her boot against his again. “But sure. Yeah.”
“So,” Eddie says, feeling more than a little awkward. He looks around the coffee shop. It's not like anyone's around, but he still feels watched.
This has been his fifth ‘so’ in ten minutes. He keeps starting, and then losing the rest of his sentence, and then just drinking his coffee instead.
He takes another sip of his coffee. It's kind of shitty, but it's way cheaper than anything you'd find in L.A., so Eddie can't complain.
Cara rolls her eyes. “Oh my god. Look, I am trying to be patient, trust me, I am. But we both know that's not my strong suit. How about you come over to mine instead? I have better coffee, and I promise to not put the moves on you.”
Eddie chokes back a laugh, but he can’t deny the relief of a private space where he doesn’t feel as watched. “Thank you. I'm not sure I'd ever be able to resist your moves,” he teases, and she grins.
“No one ever can, Diaz. I'm lethal.”
Cara's house is nice. Kitschy. She has a bunch of tapestries and art all over the walls, and little knick knacks everywhere. Most importantly, she has a cat.
“Meet Dog!” She pronounces loudly, lifting Dog up like she’s a bag of flour and dumping her in Eddie’s lap.
“You named your cat… Dog?”
She shrugs. “She acts like one anyway.”
Which, yeah, Eddie can't argue that. Not when Dog is already purring on his lap and demanding pets.
Eddie isn't a monster, so he dutifully obliges.
“So,” Eddie starts again, once Cara settles in the armchair opposite him.
“So,” Cara responds. “How about I start? I'll tell you how I figured it out, and you can just listen.”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, because that sounds like a much better idea than him trying to form words right now.
“I used to think I liked boys,” Cara starts. “In school, I mean. I'd like a guy, like hanging out with him, and then I'd think - oh, I must have a crush on him. And then I'd think about dating him, and I'd get all nervous, but not in the way that I'd hope he'd talk to me, but more like… oh god, do I have to talk to him or about him or whatever? Do I have to make myself interesting for him and try to sell myself and perform? And I thought- I mean I thought everyone felt that way. That those were the butterflies people talk about. But they weren't. That's just… like, anxiety.”
Eddie pauses. He thinks. And the thing is, he knows, kind of, already. He'd seen the difference in the way his friends had tried to impress girls because they'd wanted to impress them and the way he had always done it because he was supposed to. He was supposed to want to impress girls.
“...okay, so what does attraction to women feel like? To you?” Eddie asks hesitantly.
“For one, I don't have to force myself into it. I don't ask myself ‘so what's pretty about her?’ and look over the person and, like, have to actively select attributes to be attracted to. I just look at a girl and I think ‘wow she has bangin’ tits’ and that's that.”
Eddie cringes a little at the wording. “That feels… um, objectifying.” Eddie didn't think that way about women, but he's not a sexist, so he'd never thought that was weird. He's just… respectful.
“Sexual attraction is a little objectifying,” Cara insists. “Not like, always, and you don't act on it or look at the person as, like, only what you're attracted to. But I'm pretty sure you're supposed to… y’know, actually be attracted to the people you're attracted to.”
“...Right,” Eddie says a little suspiciously. “Well I've been- I mean, I'm attracted to women. I can appreciate when a woman looks good or has, like, an appealing face structure.”
Cara stares at him. ‘Appealing face structure’, she mouths, like it's a ridiculous thing to say. It's not. Eddie's just a feminist, so he doesn't objectify women.
Eddie frowns, feeling more than a little judged. “What?” He asks defensively.
“Eddie, attraction is meant to be like- I mean it's like- fuck, man, you're talking like a robot. It's meant to be more… like passionate,” Cara insists.
“I am plenty passionate,” Eddie says, because he is. He's been told he's a very attentive lover, too. Very good at focusing on his partner’s needs.
“No, like-” Cara makes a frustrated sound. “Okay, so- like. Imagine, uh, having sex with a girl. Any girl. Someone you find hot.”
Eddie flushes. “Uh…” He really doesn't think he's close enough to Cara to be talking sex with her. Hell, he doesn't talk sex with Buck. Or anyone, really, Eddie's never been a locker room talk kind of guy.
“Just do it,” Cara insists. “Close your eyes.”
Eddie weaves his fingers through Dog’s fur. When Cara keeps staring at him, he sighs and closes his eyes.
He pictures Shannon. Sex with her was like… he felt connected to her. They weren’t fighting then, just… being, together. And she enjoyed it, always came out of it looking relaxed and pleased, and he'd liked doing that for her. He loved her, and he'd made her life hell, and she deserved to feel good.
“Be specific,” Cara insists, like she's reading his mind. “Like, specific acts, not vague impressions. And focus on the act itself. The genitalia, the, like, physical aspect. Not just what you feel towards the person.”
Eddie sighs and complies. He thinks about having sex with Shannon. He thinks about watching his dick sink into her, the wet tightness around him. He thinks about the curve of her waist, the fullness of her breasts. Christ, what is he doing? This is so awkward.
“Done?” Cara asks, and Eddie opens his eyes.
“Very, very done.” And not just with this little exercise.
“You don't look very happy,” she says.
Eddie shoots her an unimpressed look. “I just spent five minutes objectifying my dead wife's body in my mind with a cat on my lap and my coworker sitting across from me. Sorry I'm not too in the mood.”
She raises an eyebrow. “We'll see about that. You could have chosen an actress or someone instead of just fixating on this dead wife of yours, by the way. Okay, think about a guy this time. A guy you think is hot, physically. Close your eyes, same thing as last time.”
Immediately, his mind goes to Buck. “That feels a little-” Eddie starts to protest, and she kicks him in the shin.
“If you say objectifying one more time, I'll smack you. You can go to confession after and pray the gay away or whatever after, just do it,” she demands.
Eddie hasn't known Cara for long, but he's pretty sure she's not the type to let things go.
He sighs and closes his eyes. Pictures Buck.
Buck, kneeling. Teasing, as he reaches to unbutton Eddie's pants. Buck looking up at him with those blue eyes, the birthmark above the same pink as his lips. Buck's lips as he mouths at Eddie's cock through his boxers. Buck, with his mouth around Eddie’s dick. Buck would be eager, Eddie knows he would. Buck would lose himself in it, let himself choke and gag on Eddie's cock, drool wetting his chin. Eddie wants him to, Eddie wants to take and take and take what Buck offers up. Eddie imagines reaching down, running his fingers through Buck's hair, thumbing at his beautiful birthmark. Gentling him, until Eddie is thrusting slow and deep, rolling his hips, letting himself luxuriate in the sight and the sensation of-
“Having fun?” Cara asks through a cough. Eddie's eyes shoot open.
“Uh. I. I,” he stammers, feeling a little like a kid with his hand down the cookie jar.
“Yeah, I could tell,” Cara says, and she's flushed too. She’s refusing to meet his eyes, and Eddie is nothing but grateful for this fact.
Eddie swallows. He feels like he’s just inhaled 20 of Cara’s sawdust snickerdoodles in one mouthful. “I, um. I should go.”
“Yeah,” she agrees awkwardly.
“Yeah,” Eddie echoes.
They stare at each other for a bit, then Eddie stands up and hands Dog to Cara.
He's almost out the door when she stops him.
“Just… just one thing,” Cara says.
“Yeah?”
“You're definitely gay.”
The sentence jolts through Eddie like lightning, but he still quirks a smile. “Aren't you supposed to, like- let me figure out the labels myself? Say something vaguely supportive, like ‘you'll find yourself' or whatever?”
Cara frowns as she thinks. “No,” she decides. “No, I think whatever face you were making just then was definitive proof for me. You're gay, dude.”
Eddie laughs at that. “I… thanks. For all of this. I think.”
“You're welcome. I think.”
“So,” Buck says, voice a little crackly over the speaker. “How's it been going with that mini-me you have at the firehouse? She calmed down yet?”
Eddie looks away from his iPad. He'd told Buck about Cara, of course. He tells Buck everything. They facetime every evening that they're both free, which sounds like a lot; in reality, it doesn't amount to much when you're both working regular 24-hour shifts on different schedules.
Buck still calls when he's at the firehouse and free. Eddie doesn't. He feels like he'd be judged by the others, and he hadn't known why, but…
Somehow, El Paso makes him feel like he's being forced back into the closet, even though he wasn't out of the closet in L.A. Hell, until this morning, he wasn't even allowing himself to recognize there even was a closet.
“Eddie?” Buck asks. “I think your screen's frozen or something, can you hear me?”
Eddie startles. “Yeah, yeah, sorry- I, uh, I can hear you now. What was the question?”
“How are things going with Alvarez? You said she seemed nice at the end of the shift before last, right? She keep that up?”
“Oh, yeah! Yeah, no, she was… really nice, actually. Cara's pretty funny, and she… um, yeah, we went out for coffee and breakfast after the shift ended. It was… enlightening.”
“Oh,” Buck says, face looking a little stiff. “Um, that's. Good.”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees distractedly. He's still reeling with… all of it. He'd feel lucky about having actually been able to sleep through the night at the firehouse, but turns out El Paso firehouses are always this quiet.
“Where, uh, where did you guys go?”
“Oh, this crappy coffee shop at first, but then we ended up at her place.”
“Oh,” Buck says, sounding choked. “That was… quick.”
Eddie's attention is quickly drawn back, and he immediately realizes what Buck is thinking. “No! No, no, we were just hanging out, she's- she's lesbian. Not out, so- oh, I shouldn't have told you, should I?”
Buck's face eases immediately. “I mean, I think it's fine? It's not like I know her in person. But that's… that's good.”
“That she's a lesbian?”
Buck rolls his eyes. “That you're making friends, idiot.”
Eddie knows Buck a little too well to not know where his head is. If Cara had been a girlfriend, Buck wouldn't have actually said anything, but he'd probably freak out at the idea of Eddie marrying and settling down in El Paso. Now, he's a little less worried, but still scared of being replaced.
“She's decent,” Eddie agrees, “but she isn't my partner. Not in the way you are.” And also not in the way that, apparently, everyone else in El Paso seems to think Buck is his partner.
Buck smiles, pleased. Eddie can practically feel his iPad heating up from the warmth of it.
Then his eyes catch on Buck's lips and he can't help thinking about them wrapped around his cock. He coughs and turns away, and does his best to change the subject
“Smugness doesn't suit you,” Cara says through the snickerdoodle cookie in her mouth. Eddie just smirks.
After Eddie told Buck how much the goodie basket Buck had sent him with eased things over with the new firehouse, he'd taken it upon himself to bake, pack, and express ship a large assortment of cookies, loaf cakes, and brownies. At first he'd been concerned — Buck wasn't still hung up on Tommy, was he? Then Buck had quietly admitted that he had started baking when he missed the Diaz home, and… well. Eddie was too busy blushing to protest.
“That being said, these are better than mine,” Cara admits.
“Not hard to accomplish,” Eddie mutters, and gets a smack over the head for it.
“Your husband send these over?” Captain Rivera asks. “I don't really have a sweet tooth, but this brownie is something else.”
Eddie smiles. “Yeah, it was Buck. I'll pass on the message. I'm not going to lie, I've only brought in about half of what he'd sent over. Saved the rest for me and my son. But I could be persuaded to give you some more of the brownies, if you'd like.”
“I'd love that,” she smiles.
Eddie can feel Cara trying to meet his gaze over him not correcting that Buck was Eddie’s ‘husband’. He chooses to just avoid her eyes. It's not very hard; she's only about 5’4”.
“Yo, Diaz! The wife make this?” Jiménez asks, strolling over. Decent-ish guy, as far as Eddie could tell, though he largely kept to himself.
“Husband,” Eddie corrects instinctively, then pauses. Well. He could correct that, but everyone thinks it's true anyway, right? He'll just sound like he's lying. And- maybe him being out would make it easier on Cara by the time he leaves. That's the only reason Eddie’s doing this.
It has nothing to do with the fact that referring to Buck as his husband makes him feel warm all over.
“Cool,” Jimenéz says a little awkwardly. “Guess whoever said guys can't bake hasn't met your, uh, your man, right?” He grabs a couple of cookies, waves and walks off.
“Wow,” Cara says. “You know, Jimenéz has never been outright homophobic, but he's not really a gay rights advocate either. I think your ‘husband’ might be spreading the gay agenda all the way from Cali by way of baked goods. Next thing we know, we're voting blue.”
Eddie laughs freely. “If anyone could manage that, it's Buck.”
That night, Eddie finds himself on the terrace, in a fold-out chair, watching the sunset, and then, the stars. The mosquitoes are hell, but Eddie ignores them because the stars make it worth it. You don’t see stars like this in LA.
The presence of Jake Jiménez in the chair next to him is a little harder to ignore, especially since he keeps shooting quick glances at Eddie. Like he's trying to suss Eddie out. Eddie's skin prickles with the attention, and a part of him can't help worrying about what Jiménez might be thinking about — he thinks Eddie is gay, he might be homophobic, what if he's going to start throwing around slurs — but Eddie refuses to let the glances drive him away. It would feel too much like admitting defeat. Instead, he remains staunch, fixing his gaze on the horizon.
“Hey, Diaz?” Jiménez asks that night. It's pretty late, so it's just the two of them out on the roof. The mosquitoes are hell, but the stars make it worth it. You don’t see stars like this in LA.
“Hm?” Eddie asks, a little distracted.
“Your, uh… your husband. He's back in L.A., right?”
“Yeah,” Eddie confirms. He's not sure where this is going yet, so he keeps his face neutral.
“Mm. It's… tough, isn't it? Being apart.”
Oh.
Jiménez is… trying to be friendly. Have a conversation about the spouses.
“Yeah,” Eddie admits. Buck isn't his husband, but Eddie misses him like an amputated limb. Hell, he misses him more than he missed Shannon, which he can't help feeling extremely guilty about.
“My wife's been away taking care of her mom,” Jiménez admits. “I've got the girls with me. God, I miss her. You never realize how used to them you are until they're gone, right?”
“Tell me about it,” Eddie groans. “Some days after work he'd just- decide we're going to do something, y’know? Bake, or go hiking, or check out a museum exhibit or something. I miss that spontaneity. I just get stuck in my routines without him.”
Jiménez nods. “My wife, Vicky, she makes me laugh. She still does, over the phone, but it's just not the same. I miss seeing her laugh with me, seeing her eyes sparkle.”
“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. He misses that too. “I miss his cooking.”
“Don't get me started,” Jiménez groans. “I mean, I can make food, but she makes meals.”
“Sustenance versus enjoyment,” Eddie agrees.
“I miss the annoying things too. I used to find her hair all over the place, and it would piss me off. Now I just wanna find her hair clogging up the shower drain again,” Jiménez admits, and Eddie laughs.
“Yeah. I get what you mean. My guy, for all that he can cook, leaves a disaster behind. Like a bomb went off in the kitchen. But god, I'd do the washing up every day if I could do it with him nearby.”
Jiménez smiles in commiseration. They sit in silence, then, watching the stars while on the fold out chairs.
It's Eddie who starts talking this time. “I… I don't think I realized how much he did for us, for me,” he says. “I mean, I don’t think I've been unappreciative- at least, I hope I haven't been. But… it's- I notice the big stuff, obviously, but it's the little stuff, you know?”
He doesn’t even know why he's telling Jiménez this. Maybe because everyone else who knows the truth — Buck isn't his husband, Eddie isn't out — will judge, or pity him, or something. He doesn't want any of that. He just wants to talk about how he misses Buck.
Jiménez looks like he's listening, so Eddie continues. “I like fruit from farmer's markets. The fresh stuff. And I- I never used to buy it for myself, because it felt like too much of a silly indulgence. But now that I think about it, we've always had a bowl full of organic fruit on the table for- for years. God, when did he even start buying it for me? How did I never question it? And I know I could buy it for myself, but it's… it's just not the same. Not when he isn't helping himself to the bowl too, or- or making fresh orange juice for us on hot days.”
“Yeah,” Jiménez says, sounding wistful. “It's always the stuff you don't even notice that gets you when they're gone. I didn't know I loved the smell of her lavender shampoo until I wasn't waking up to her hair in my face.”
They fall into silence again. Neither of them are particularly big talkers. Occasionally, one of them will intersperse with another little way they miss their partners. Just to put it out there, to have someone listen and understand. They do this until it's late, and their both slouched into their fold-out chairs half asleep.
Jiménez nods off first, and Eddie shakes his shoulder.
“Hey man, go hit the bunk rooms. These chairs will fuck up your back.”
Jiménez takes a second to wake up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks, Diaz,” he says, stretching and standing.
“Eddie,” Eddie offers.
“Call me Jake, then. And hey, listen, this might not be my place, but… I'm sure your guy misses you something fierce too. Speaking from experience, it sucks living in the place you share with your partner, constantly remembering what the place looked like when they were there. I know you have your reason to be here, but you hurry up and get back to him, y'hear me?”
Eddie swallows. Thinks about the Buck he met, angry and lonely and waiting for Abby — and Buck doing that again, waiting for Eddie and Chris this time. Trying to convince himself they'd be back during the days, but losing that hope in the cold and the dark of the nights.
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “Yeah, I'm gonna try and hurry things along.”
Elena smiles at Eddie warmly. Never has she been so glad to see a good, capable firefighter turn in transfer papers.
“I'll be happy to sign off on these,” she says. “While I'm sad to see you go, I know how important the life you have waiting back for you in L.A. is.”
Eddie smiles, all barely-hidden glee. For a man that comes off as fairly stoic, he looks surprisingly childlike at this moment. “I hope it goes well for you,” he says, and she can tell he's being genuine.
“So, you'll be rejoining your old firehouse with your partner?”
Eddie nods. “Cap and I- my old, er my future-? The Captain of the LAFD 118 transferred me over with the assurance that I'd have my place waiting for me whenever I was ready to go home.”
Elena smiles at that. “I'm glad your Captain is so… supportive,” she says. She briefly wonders if she should ask Eddie how he managed to stay working with his partner after they got together. She quickly discards the thought; not only would that be unprofessional, she's sure the LAFD and the EPFD are bound to function differently on such matters. Besides, Cara is her subordinate. She cannot, will not make the first move. “I take this means things are going well with your son?”
“Yeah,” Eddie sighs out. “I've had… certain realizations, I suppose that lead me to understanding why I did the things I did. Moving back to El Paso, really remembering what it's like- it's forced me to be a little more graceful to myself, I suppose, for the mistakes I made. And that helped me be more… open with him.”
Elena knows barely anything at all about what happened between Eddie and his son — only that Eddie messed up, and that his son left. Still, she understands the type of person Eddie is, on multiple levels. She knows what it's like to be burdened with responsibility you aren't prepared to shoulder, and what it's like to have responsibility that you have a right to be withheld from you.
“Cuentas contigo mismo para ser feliz. You rely on yourself to be happy. My late grandmother used to say that to me all the time. You have a duty not just to others but to yourself, to your happiness. It was only when I really understood this that I made the decision to quit teaching and become a firefighter, and it's a decision I still do not regret despite the hardships I face on the job.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “I never realized- it wasn't just myself I was hurting. But now I- I know what I want. I- I deserve to be happy, and my son deserves a father who is happy and true to himself too. I'm not- I'm not hurting him by choosing joy.”
He says it with a hint of defiance in his tone, like it's an argument he's had before. Elena doesn't know Eddie too well, but in that moment, she feels like she truly, wholly understands him.
“I'm glad you're prioritizing yourself, Eddie. I truly am. And I'm sure both your son and your partner will feel the same way.”
Eddie’s eyes soften. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I think… I think they will.”
Buck knows Eddie. Knows all his little quirks, the little twitches of his face and what they all mean. So he recognizes, the very second Eddie answers their daily Facetime call, that he's got a Look.
It's a look Buck's familiar with and loves dearly — Eddie's eyes glinting with excitement as he tries to act cool and nonchalant. A good secret, maybe, or some gossip he feels like he shouldn’t share but is delighted by.
“Out with it,” Buck says immediately, and Eddie's laugh is more of a giggle. It delights Buck down to his very soul.
“Out with what?” Eddie says, eyes crinkling. “I haven't even said anything! How about a hi, hello, how are you?”
“Hi, hello, how are you,” Buck repeats obligingly. “Okay, now tell me. I know you, Eddie, you have something. Out with it.”
Eddie's smile is giddy and happy and Buck’s heart clenches with it.
“So… Chris and I have been talking.”
Buck's breath catches in anticipation. He tries to quell the rising hope in case he's wrong. “And…?” Buck asks.
“And his grandparents have bought him a lot of stuff over these few months. Paying for all that extra baggage on a flight just seems like a waste, and Chris has never been on a road trip, so-”
“You're coming home?” Buck whispers, hands trembling.
Eddie's smile is so soft and so beautiful, Buck almost forgets he's only seeing it through a screen.
“Yeah, Buck. We're coming home. What do you say, wanna catch a flight here so we can split the drive back?”
“You're- gonna make me do most of the driving,” Buck complains, swallowing and trying his best not to tear up.
“Probably, but you don't mind. I'll show you around my childhood home first, take you to meet your mini-me at the firehouse. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Buck sniffles. “That- that sounds perfect.”
And look, the past few weeks have been… rough. Rougher than Buck has admitted to Maddie, certainly rougher than what he’s let Eddie see. He’s been trying, but it’s been so hard to fight the way his brain points out how Buck’s stuck in the same cycle. The worst of it had been when Eddie had started getting close to Alvarez- Buck can think of few things worse than Eddie falling in love with some female version of him while Buck himself remains stuck where he has been all his life: alone, abandoned, and aching for love.
None of that matters now, none of it. Because Eddie and Chris are okay, and they’re together again, and things aren’t perfect but the two of them are talking, and now they’re going to-
Holy fuck. Holy fuck.
Eddie and Chris are going to come back for him.
Considering how long Buck has spent hating every single person at the EPFD’s Station 6 for getting to have Eddie when he couldn’t, Buck’s having a surprising amount of fun at Eddie’s going away party. There’s not too many people, and it shows, especially with Eddie’s El Paso’s house being so much larger than his LA one, but the people seem nice enough despite the majority being acquaintances at best.
“So the two of you are leaving on Wednesday?” Captain Rivera asks politely.
Eddie had slipped away to the restroom earlier, and Cara had caught him in a conversation on his way back, and… Buck is surprisingly not jealous. Eddie is laughing at a joke made by someone else, and he's happy, and all Buck feels is warm. Eddie deserves to laugh, to be happy. Eddie deserves joy. He's made for it.
“We are,” Buck confirms, dragging his gaze back to the Captain.
“That's a pity,” she sighs. “I'm on shift both tomorrow and day after, so I suppose I won't be able to catch you before you leave. I assume you've already booked your tickets?”
“Oh, no, we're going on a road trip,” Buck corrects. “Chris has never been on one. It's only a 12 hour drive to LA, though we're planning to stop at a motel for the night midway, split it up. Both Chris and I need to stretch our legs out frequently or we cramp up. Chris has CP, of course, and I had a crush injury a few years back while on the job.”
She seems to be genuinely interested in listening — most people get uncomfortable when Chris’ CP and Buck’s chronic pain comes up, but she's just listening, trying to understand. He likes her. He'd already liked her from what little Eddie had said before, but he definitely likes her on her own merit now. “We could move our date out by a day, catch a meal with you before we leave?” Buck suggests. “I'd have to ask Eddie, but I'm sure he'd be delighted.”
“That would be lovely,” Rivera says with a smile. Something soft and a little- Buck can’t place it. Vulnerable, maybe. “Eddie's talked so much about you,” she continues, “and it's- hard, to find community here.”
“I can imagine,” Buck sympathizes. Eddie had told him how much of an unfairly tough time the guys at the station gave Captain Rivera sometimes. “Maybe Cara could come too? I know the two of you were who Eddie was closest to at the station. I'd love to get to know the both of you.”
Rivera's eyes shine. “That would be lovely. I'm looking forward to it. Though I have to admit, after hearing so much about Eddie's famous husband, I feel like I know you very well already.”
And with that little bombshell, she walks towards Cara, smiling at Eddie as he passes her on his way back to Buck.
Buck means to bring it up immediately. He really does, except then some guy called Jake comes over half-drunk and moaning about missing his wife, and he tells Eddie it’s not fair that Eddie gets to have his spouse back, and… yeah.
Apparently the whole station has not only heard of Buck from Eddie, but also thinks that the two of them are married. Eddie corrects 0% of these assumptions, which is approximately… oh, that’s right, none of them. Eddie corrects none of them. Instead he shoots Buck guilty little apologetic looks, but plays along, holding Buck’s hand, introducing Buck as his ‘better half’.
Buck would be mad if he wasn’t so bewildered by all his dreams coming true out of nowhere.
He manages to hold it together until the last of the stragglers leave. Then he just sort of… explodes.
“ What . Was that.” Buck bites out as he shuts the front door, not even trying to untangle whatever he’s feeling.
Eddie shifts from one foot to another. “What?” He asks, faux-oblivious. Buck shoots him a look.
“Why does everyone think we’re married?”
“People mistake us and Chris for a family all the time,” Eddie deflects.
“Oh for the love of- not correcting a stranger's misunderstanding of your sexuality and relationships is one thing, but these are people you work with for over 40 hours a week.”
“Worked with,” Eddie corrects, and Buck has to bite back a smile at that. He tries to force a serious expression back onto his face, but Eddie’s little grin suggests he doesn’t quite manage it.
Eddie laughs, then sighs. "Listen, Buck, I guess... I guess I didn't think- I mean it shouldn't be a bad thing, right? Being gay? So if that's what they wanted to think, I didn't want to- to 'defend' myself, like- like being LGBT was somehow something to be ashamed of."
On the one hand, Buck was definitely hoping Eddie's reasons were a lot more personal than that. On the other hand…
“That's… actually really sweet,” Buck says softly. “And I'm sure it meant a lot to Cara, and anyone else who isn't out at the firehouse.”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, looking oddly shifty.
“I mean it can- it can be really hard to come out, especially in such a hostile space, and- to know you're brave enough to do this even though you're straight-”
“Okay, ” Eddie cuts him off, sounding strangled.
“Eddie,” Buck insists. “C'mon, I'm just trying to tell you how much it means to- I mean, hell, even me, and I live in L.A.-”
“I'm not brave!”
Buck pauses. Blinks. His first instinct is to argue, because Eddie is the bravest person he knows, but there's something about how distressed Eddie looks that immediately tells Buck this is more than just a case of being praise-shy.
He thinks about- the shifty way Eddie is looking, studying Buck out of the corner of his eye like he’s scared of Buck’s reaction but still needs to see it. Thinks about the way Eddie had mumbled to Buck how nice it was that Jake was coming around on the whole gay rights thing. What Eddie had said to his Captain, before she left, about how much he admired her for going against the grain like she did.
“Oh,” Buck says softly, because he thinks he knows what Eddie means. But… “You're still… you're still brave. Even if…. Especially if…” Especially if it wasn’t a misunderstanding. “You’re so brave, Eddie,” Buck insists softly.
Because fuck, dealing with misplaced homophobic nonsense is one thing, but when it's targeted right? When you're not even out? God. Buck can't even imagine. “I think this- if what you're saying is what I think I'm saying, then that's- maybe one of the bravest things you've done, Eddie.”
“Yeah?” Eddie whispers, stepping a little closer. He reaches out and fixes the collar of Buck's shirt, and then his hands just stay there, feeling the fabric of the denim shirt between his fingers. “I… I think so too.”
Buck beams. “Good,” he says emphatically, because Eddie deserves to know how brave he is. How kind, how amazing, how- how special. How loved. Eddie deserves to see himself the way Buck sees him.
“You know I was always coming back to you, right?” Eddie asks.
“I'd hoped,” Buck admits. He’d hoped, he’d wished, but he’d never dared to assume. “It's not that I didn't trust you, it's just…”
“I know,” Eddie assures, and Buck knows he does. Eddie knows all the secret, broken parts of Buck, and he was always planning to come back to him anyway.
God. God.
Buck wants to kiss him so bad but if what he thinks is happening is happening then Eddie needs time, needs to process-
“I'm gay and in love with you,” Eddie says, apropos of nothing.
Okay, so apparently he doesn't.
“Jesus Christ Eddie,” Buck wheezes through a choked laugh.
“What?” Eddie says defensively. “When you know, you know, or whatever they say.”
“God, you really are a nester, huh?” Buck laughs, and then his laughter tapers off as he meets the intensity in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie steps closer, hand moving to tilt Buck’s face down, and Buck shivers.
“Eddie-” Buck starts to say.
Eddie cuts him off with soft lips on Buck's.
Oh. Oh okay. Yeah, Buck was ready to die now, actually, because he doesn't think there's anything in life that could remotely match up to the joy he's feeling right now.
They kiss slow and languid for what feels like hours, and when Eddie pulls away, he's flushed and has blown pupils and he looks downright debauched.
Buck's sure that's an expression he's reflecting on his own face. “Holy shit, Eddie.”
“Sorry, were you ready for that? Or did you need more time?”
Right. Did Buck need more time, he asks. Did Buck need more time.
“I think I've been waiting my whole life for that,” Buck says honestly. “Do it again.”
Eddie moves to kiss Buck again, and Buck has to stop him for a second, to both their chagrin. But this is important, and Buck has to get it out now. “Wait, Eddie, wait wait wait.”
“What.”
“You do realize you're never allowed to call yourself not brave again, right? Like- you can actually never-”
“How about instead of praising me for my good behavior, you reward me for it?”
Buck swallows. “Uh huh,” he says, voice pitching itself higher. Not squeaking, he is not squeaking, he's just speaking at a higher tone than he normally does. “I can do that.”
He spends the whole night doing just that. On the couch. And in the bed. And on the bed again, the next morning, before they pick Christopher up from his last night at his grandparents’.
Maybe Buck doesn’t hate El Paso after all.
Cara grins, a little flushed, a little smug, as Diaz opens the door. She’s holding a bottle of wine in one hand, and Elena’s hand in the other.
Diaz meets her gaze, just as smug, just as flushed. Buck comes up behind him, wearing an apron. Diaz instantly wraps an arm around his waist and kisses his cheek, leaving him blushing.
Cara’s grin grows wider. “Congratulations on finally moving to LA,” she says.
“You too,” Diaz says, eyes crinkling. Both Elena and Buck look at them like they’ve lost it. Cara would worry about being too sappy and ridiculous, but… Elena’s hand is so nice and so calloused, and Diaz is blushing at his probably soon-to-be-husband, and maybe scared little gay kids from El Paso do get to grow up and find love.
“Inside joke,” Diaz explains, and he smiles at her like he’s thinking the same thing she is. “Come in, come in. Let me introduce the two of you to Chris.”
L.A., huh? Cara looks at Elena through her lashes as they follow the Diazes in. A place where Cara wouldn’t have to be so terrified, a place where people would actually respect Elena’s authority as Captain. Yeah. Yeah, maybe that actually wouldn’t be a bad idea.