"Ice cream!"
Christopher gestures wildly at the bright, cartoonish sign up ahead and Eddie can't help but throw back his head and laugh, his son's excitement contagious. He needed this, or maybe they both did, a chance to embrace the stereotypical Southern California sunshine and a perfect ocean breeze. Their new home sweet home, or close enough to it.
They'd moved from El Paso a while ago, finding a small house to rent on the far east side of Los Angeles County, but Eddie has been focused on the Fire Academy and it's been a stressful transition, even with Eddie's aunt and abuela nearby to help. Most people wouldn't guess Christopher has had any trouble at all, his near-constant grin masking the hum of worry Eddie senses in quieter moments; Christopher had overheard too much of the fighting in Texas, and Eddie knows he still has a lot to prove.
So, they're here at the Santa Monica Pier, about an hour from home, celebrating Eddie's graduation at the top of his class with too much junk food and very little responsibility. It's not quite a bribe or a payment long past due, just a deep breath before Eddie starts his new job and their lives continue to change.
"Are you sure you have room for ice cream? After the hot dog and pretzel and popcorn and cotton candy?"
"Dad!" Christopher exclaims with happy exasperation. "We've been here all day, so I had to eat a lot. Plus, cotton candy is like eating a cloud, so it doesn't really count. Can I please, please, please have some ice cream? You can even get a hot fudge sundae of your very own."
"Oh, can I? That's very nice of you."
But they make their way toward the ice cream parlor, of course – Eddie can't possibly resist real hot fudge when so many places only give him chocolate syrup instead – and patiently wait in a line stretching just past the entrance. The Cone Zone smells incredible, the combination of freshly made waffle cones, chocolate, and the hint of something even sweeter. He ruffles Christopher's hair and leans toward him to talk amid the excited noise around them.
"What's your very favorite thing we've done today?"
"Hmmmmm, well—" He watches as Christopher tilts his head and purses his lips, an expression so ridiculously serious for the question that was asked that Eddie has to smother a laugh to avoid embarrassing his son. "I think maybe the aquarium, when I got to reach into the water and touch some things? Or maybe the merry-go-round? Or watching all those people dancing on their heads and spinning around on the ground? Or when I got my face painted like a super cool tiger?"
"All very excellent parts of the day," Eddie agrees. They've just stepped inside, and Eddie catches his first glimpse of the list of ice cream flavors on the wall. He's about to read them aloud, but something – someone – else draws his attention; one of the employees behind the counter has glanced up at them, the mix of surprise and delight in his eyes making Eddie wonder whether he's supposed to recognize the guy. He can't imagine he'd forget a smile like that, though, and he quickly clears his throat and turns toward Christopher again. "Okay, we have a lot to choose from."
They continue to talk as the line moves along, covering everything from favorite ice cream flavors to other fun summertime ideas for Eddie's days off, Eddie doing his best to keep Christopher from bouncing off the walls that already vibrate with every other kid's sugar high. He's also doing his best to keep from looking back toward the counter and the smile that seems to be directed at him more often than not.
There are a total of three people bustling behind the counter, building impressive banana splits, topping milkshakes with whipped cream, and collecting money from eager guests. It reminds Eddie of those silly shell games with a ball hidden beneath one as they slide quickly to swap places with each other, and he finds himself wanting to win. He wants this guy – is that Buck on his name tag? – to be the one to greet them.
He isn't going to think about why he cares about that at all. It's just ice cream.
After minutes of anticipation – Christopher's, definitely not his own – Eddie finally nudges his son forward, just as the elderly woman in front of them receives one of Buck's brilliant grins with her double scoop. It means, of course, that whatever strange prayer Eddie absolutely had not directed toward any higher power at the risk of total damnation has worked, but it also suggests that Buck may just be a friendly employee. All those not-so-furtive glances meant nothing. Same goes for the shy smiles Eddie offered in return.
"Well, hello there, Tiger."
"I'm not a real tiger," Christopher giggles. "It's face paint, silly."
"Oh, thank you for clearing that up," Buck says, leaning across the counter to whisper theatrically. "Between you and me, I was a little scared."
"You don't have to be scared. I'm just Christopher."
"It's very nice to meet you, Christopher. I'm Buck. Have you decided what kind of ice cream you'd like?"
"Um, I can't pick between bubble gum and chocolate brownie."
"Those are two very different flavors, but—" Buck looks up at Eddie, who gives him a quick nod. "How about if I give you both of them in a nice big waffle cone?"
Christopher's eyes go wide. "Yes, please!"
Buck laughs and winks at Eddie, then gets to work on the cone, still managing to talk as he scoops. "So, tell me, Christopher. Are you guys visiting from far away or do you live nearby?"
"Um, nearby! We just moved here from Texas."
Their happy chatter continues, and Eddie watches the back and forth, careful not to interrupt, even though his son's relative sense of time and place is a little off; they've been in California for a few months now and they definitely live too far inland to be considered "nearby" the beach. Still, it seems unimportant when Chris is suddenly outgoing in a way he hasn't been – in public, at least – since leaving El Paso. It's not that Christopher is insecure, or even shy, but Eddie knows they've both used the past several weeks to find some solid ground, and it's a relief to watch Christopher's bright light return in Buck's presence.
Then there's Buck, this total stranger in a crowded ice cream parlor. He isn't handling Christopher the way some people do when they notice his CP, all caution and pity and uncertainty, nor is he brushing him off as another hyper kid to be served and sent back to the pier. He strikes Eddie as being open and kind in a way that is all too rare, and Eddie aches with the knowledge that a heart that big is easily trampled upon.
"So, what can I get for Christopher's dad?"
Lost in his own thoughts, he jumps at the question and shakes his head quickly. "Uh, sorry. I'll have—Eddie—I mean—no—my name is Eddie and I'll have a scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough with hot fudge on top."
Fuck. Why can't he speak?
To Buck's credit, he only lets the smallest hint of a smirk slip before he turns to grab a bowl. It's quieter now that Christopher has his mouth buried in the giant ice cream cone Eddie's helping to hold steady, and it doesn't take long for Buck to hand over the small sundae.
"Is it just the two of you? Or is there someone else?" Buck asks.
Eddie thinks the question is about whether they need more ice cream, but he kind of hopes it's not. "Yeah, it's just the two of us."
Buck nods and rings them up, and Eddie pulls his wallet from his back pocket, just in time for Christopher to pop up with an adorably messy face. "Dad, don't forget to tip him. You said we should always tip, especially when someone is super nice, and I think Buck is super nice."
He does it, of course, even as Buck tilts his head toward Christopher again. "Thank you very much, but you don't have to tip me when you're my very favorite customers of the day."
They say their goodbyes – there is still a long line behind them – and Eddie carries both treats as they make their way back outside, feeling warmer in a way that has little to do with the sun shining down.
Favorite customers. Plural. A compliment possibly meant for more than just his cute kid.
Or maybe it's just something Buck says a dozen times a day.
Either way, Eddie can't quite stop thinking about it. And about Buck.
The rest of Buck's shift goes by in a blur; he serves a million more kids and their parents, teenagers with the kind of confidence he wishes he'd had at that age, and little old ladies who say things that make him think he should blush. It's been the same as every other day, really, except for the way he'd choked on his own breath when the perfect guy had walked in with his perfect son.
Eddie was hot, and apparently totally unaffected by it, never seeming to notice the admirers scattered around him. The fact that he had the most polite, adorable kid with him was just the cherry on top – pun totally intended. Buck had forgotten where he was for a minute, all too happy to just talk to them for the rest of the afternoon, and sadder than he should've been to watch them walk away.
He shakes his head, his reaction to Eddie a little unexpected. Or maybe a lot unexpected, if he's being honest.
For one, the Santa Monica Pier isn't exactly lacking in gorgeous people; even taking some wayward tourists into consideration, California beaches attract visitors who are easy on the eyes. Hell, Buck has brought a few of them back to his apartment, hooked up with one in the walk-in freezer, and has flirted with dozens – maybe hundreds – of others.
And second? Every one of those escapades was with a woman. His only real relationship was with one, too.
It's not that he's never noticed a good-looking guy – he's not blind, after all. But noticing and wanting are two entirely different things, and he's not sure what he was supposed to do with such a strange lightning striking, heavens opening, angels singing, out of body experience. Ignore it, probably.
What were his other options? Give Eddie his number? Ask him out? Get laughed at for totally misreading the eye contact they'd made and the way Eddie's cheeks had flushed when he'd tried to introduce himself and the quiet reassurance of it's just the two of us?
Buck sighs, unable to do anything about it now. But then he remembers Christopher had told him they live nearby, just recently moving here from Texas, so there's a decent chance they'll come in for ice cream at least once more, especially because the summer has just started. There's hope for him. And time to come up with a way to handle this very new feeling, if he gets lucky enough to see Eddie again.
As it turns out, he's plenty lucky, but has no time to figure out a damn thing.
The next day at work, they hit a bit of a lull in the afternoon – even in June, Mondays tend to be slightly less chaotic than the weekend – so Hen and May are handling the counter while Buck wipes down an empty table and restocks napkins. Just as he's pushing in a chair, he hears the happiest voice in the world.
"Buck!"
He thinks he recovers from his surprise well enough, aside from the way he practically falls forward as he dodges the table in his way. Whatever smoothness he's possessed around every woman ever has abandoned him completely in the presence of this one man and his kid.
"Hey, Tiger!" Buck exclaims, getting an easy giggle from Christopher. He looks to Eddie as he lowers his voice. "You came back."
Eddie shrugs. "We, uh, we realized we hadn't actually done much of the regular beach stuff yesterday, just all the crazy pier fun. So, we decided to come back for—"
"More ice cream!" Christopher interrupts, Eddie wincing as though that wasn't supposed to be said out loud, and Buck jumps in to do whatever he can to make it okay again.
"Hey, I love ice cream, too, Christopher," Buck tells him. "But that can't possibly be the only reason you came back. What did you get to do at the beach today?"
"We splashed in the ocean a lot and then I built the biggest sandcastle ever and dad only helped me a little bit with that because I had the best ideas and he didn't know what to do and then when he wanted to lie down I put sand on top of him too."
Buck's no stranger to excited kids, and he thinks plenty of them are cute, but Christopher makes him smile in such an easy way. He doesn't feel nearly as confident talking to Eddie, but he's willing to keep trying, however hard that might be now that he's noticed Eddie's wet hair, and the way his shirt is just damp enough to cling to him.
"Well, I'm sorry your dad wasn't much help with the sandcastle, but maybe I can give him some pointers so he's ready for next time."
"Yes, please," Christopher agrees. "Or maybe you could just build one with us. We have extra shovels and buckets and you could share dad's towel if you don't have one of your own."
He can't help but look toward Eddie for a moment, far too curious about his reaction for his own good, but what he finds there is too hard to read. It seems like Eddie's mouth is twisted in the same nervous way as Buck's own stomach, but he isn't confident enough to guess whether it's for the same reason, so he brushes past the idea entirely.
"How about for now, we just work on getting you some ice cream? Do you want the same thing as yesterday?"
Christopher's eyes widen, but Eddie quickly taps on his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. Suddenly Buck feels like he's fallen into a good-cop, bad-cop moment, confirmed when Christopher huffs and looks back and forth between Eddie and Buck for any hint of hope.
"No, my dad said I can only have one scoop today. And in a boring cone."
"Chocolate brownie or bubble gum or something different?" Buck asks, biting back a laugh.
"Brownie," Christopher mumbles.
Buck smiles at Eddie. "And chocolate chip cookie dough in a boring cone for you?"
"Please."
He leaves them at the table and hurries behind the counter to get their cones, trying and failing to escape before Hen can say anything to him. Buck can feel her staring.
"Your friend is a beautiful man. And I like girls," she cracks.
"He's not my friend. He's just a—I mean, he was here yesterday and brought his kid back again, but they're just customers."
"Right," she says, her face skeptical. "Just a customer and a beautiful man. I didn't hear you arguing that part."
"I don't—he's a—I think he—" Buck trails off with a sigh and gives up whatever response he might have had.
"Well, that would explain the heart eyes I haven't seen since Abby quit her job and started to eat, pray, and love her way through Europe."
Her observation manages to cut and soothe simultaneously, the reminder of his failed relationship made a little better by the thought that he might be ready to move on. And whether anything will ever happen with Eddie remains to be seen, but Buck's encouraged – or maybe just stupid – enough to tear off a piece of receipt paper and grab a pen. Hen just smirks.
Returning with the ice cream cones, however boring they may be, he hands them over. "So, um, you're here on a Monday. Do you—are you a teacher or just playing hooky or—not that you have to tell me, obviously. I was just—"
"My dad's a fireman," Christopher chirps.
Well, that explains the body.
"I'm actually just about to start my probationary year with L.A. County."
"And he used to be in the Army."
This kid is a wealth of information and Buck wishes he had a little more time with him to get every possible detail about Eddie's background; instead, he turns to Eddie, impressed. "Wow, you've made a career out of saving lives and I'm just here scooping ice cream."
"I think you may be underestimating the power of dessert," Eddie argues with a smile. Then he goes to pull his wallet from his pocket and Buck doesn't think before reaching out to grab Eddie's forearm to stop him.
They both freeze.
"Sorry, I just—I didn't—it's my treat—I mean, if that's okay with you," Buck stammers. Fuck, why does it feel like he can't complete normal sentences anymore? Not that it stops him from continuing, letting go of Eddie only to push the crumpled paper into his free hand. "And here's my number, for sandcastles or whatever. If that's okay with you, too."
Eddie tilts his head almost unnoticeably, narrowing his eyes and looking for answers Buck doesn't have. Some part of him wants to babble about his own move to California, the pretty people he sees every day, the loneliness awaiting him at home, and way his fingers warmed the moment they pressed into Eddie's skin; maybe if he offers up the entire riddle, Eddie can solve it for both of them.
"Yeah, that's okay," Eddie murmurs. "It's all okay with me."
A/N: Welcome aboard this little ride. Glad to have you here!