Golden Threads
Disclaimer: I don't own 9-1-1. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter Four:
Evan is the first to arrive at the restaurant, though Bobby, Martinez, and Hen and Chimney aren't far behind him. It's oddly jarring to see them this way, out of work, dressed up for a dinner out, far removed from the workplace setting he'd gotten to know them in.
"You clean up nicely," Hen compliments Evan, "Though those jeans should be illegal."
Evan's in a pair of black jeans (admittedly tighter than his usual getup), a pair of boots, and a fitted, pale blue button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It's not anything extravagant, but outside of his turnout gear, they've only ever seen him in well-worn, faded jeans and T-shirts and his LAFD-issue training gear.
The difference circumstance is, perhaps, just as jarring for his new teammates.
"Thanks," Evan laughs, oddly sheepish, "You look great, as well."
Hen is dressed in red and black, and the vibrant colour of her blouse is a striking contrast against her dark skin.
Hen adopts an unaffected air. "Oh, you know, I try."
"Well you make it look effortless."
Hen laughs and shakes her head. "You're a smooth one, aren't you?"
Evan winks, playful. "Oh, you know, I try."
They settle themselves around the table reserved for them, and observe idle pleasantries over menus and complimentary glasses of water. Chimney's flying high after a successful date the night before, Martinez is drained after a day spent with his mom and grandparents, Bobby is content simply to listen to everyone else's conversation, and they're all on their best behaviour.
The restaurant itself is lovely, with colourful, gold-accented decor, low, inoffensive background music, and approachable, amiable wait staff. It's also not too crowded, and Evan is grateful.
"What about you, Buck? How's your weekend been?" Hen queries.
"It's been good. Worked out this morning, went surfing this afternoon," Evan replies, nonchalant. He reaches for his glass of water, and it's only belatedly that he realises Hen's incongruous focus on his hand is entirely due to the ring he's returned to his finger.
The nature of Evan's job doesn't allow him to wear his wedding ring during shifts, and he and Amelia haven't yet gotten around to purchasing a silicon band to substitute it. They will, in time, but until then, Evan has been content to wear his ring on a chain around his neck alongside his dog tags. It's not completely in line with the LAFD's dress code - as a firefighter, he's not supposed to wear any jewellery at all, excepting watches and medical alert bracelets - but the dog tags he'd brought with him from the Navy are considered identification, and therefore, Bobby has let it slide.
In any case, Hen and Chimney would have had very little opportunity to catch sight of his ring, and in the week he's been there, Evan hasn't felt particularly inclined to announce it. He likes his coworkers, and they essentially live in each others' pockets while on shift, but he doesn't particularly care to raise the subject of his marital status without due course. It would seem strange to do so.
"You're married, Buck?"
"I am," Evan confirms, a smile on his face.
"Seriously?" Chimney asks, incredulous, "How old are you?"
Evan doesn't appreciate the incredulity. He doesn't expect congratulations or anything along those lines - actually, he mostly just expects polite indifference - but the reaction is uncalled for.
"I'm 26," he replies, his irritation obvious. Chimney grimaces, chagrined and apologetic.
"And already married," Martinez shakes his head, disbelieving. He's 32, happy to sleep his way through the lonely hearts of LA, and entirely uninterested in involving himself with anything (or anyone) that can be considered commitment, "Man, that's crazy."
"I didn't realise," Hen sounds apologetic, though Evan can't fathom why, "Can I ask how long you've been married for?"
"A bit over two years."
"And is it just you two?" Hen prods.
"Yeah, it's just Mia and I," Evan confirms, "No kids, no pets, no other dependents at this stage."
The question is one Evan and Mia have received often over the years, and it's still as unwelcome as it was the first time. It's also grown tiresome though, particularly because with very few exceptions, the state of Evan's and Mia's family - such as it is - isn't anyone else's business but their own.
Mercifully, none of his new teammates offer up any unsolicited opinions regarding the matter, and Evan is glad for the reprieve. In the morning, Amelia's mom will remind them that children are a delight, that she's excited for grandchildren, that they're not getting any younger, and as far as Evan is concerned, it's far more than enough conversation regarding the matter for one weekend.
"You don't look surprised," Hen addresses Bobby. Around them, servers set out a spread of appetisers across their table, explain each dish as it is distributed, and then make themselves scarce.
Evan and Martinez dig in with enthusiasm. The others are not far behind them.
"That's because I'm not," bobby replies, serving himself some food, "It's in Buck's paperwork."
"How did you two meet?" Chimney wonders. "What does she do?"
"Amelia's a nurse at Cedars-Sinai. We met in Boston. I was doing the whole 'college' thing, and her brother was my roommate."
"And what's she up to tonight?" Martinez queries.
"She's at her cousin's bachelorette party," Evan replies, and adds wryly, "I was advised not to wait up."
"The best kind of party, then," Hen laughs, "She'll be feeling that tomorrow."
"Undoubtedly," Evan agrees, and wonders idly if their brunch plans for the following morning will stand.
Amelia had been determined that they would, but Evan himself is doubtful. Gone are the days were they were able to walk off hangovers, subsumed by bills and taxes and employer expectations. Their respective (and collective) tolerance for alcohol is not what it used to be.
He supposes they'll both find out in the morning. In the meantime, Evan has the remainder of his inquisition to endure, and a (frankly delicious) meal to enjoy.