Maybe Who You're Looking For Is (Somebody)

by Totally-Out-Of-It

Eddie works as a bartender at a restaurant. He's pretty good at remembering guests, connecting just enough to earn a tip, but there's this one guy—He comes in every Friday with a new date. Eddie tries to help him out with his dates and ends up falling head over heels instead. But if a guy like Buck were interested, he'd already have asked Eddie out, right? Buddie

Maybe Who You're Looking For Is (Somebody)

Eddie works as a bartender at a restaurant. He's pretty good at remembering guests, connecting just enough to earn a tip, but there's this one guy—There's a pink mark over his left eye, his eyes are blue as the sea, and he comes in every Friday with a new date. Eddie tries to help him out with his dates and ends up falling head over heels instead. But if a guy like Buck were interested, he'd already have asked Eddie out, right?

…

…

Title from Reba McEntire's "Somebody"

Written for, and beta'd by, DLanaDHZ

…

…

Eddie had always been good at remembering faces. Whereas everyone else would forget their server's eye color as soon as they turned away—if they noticed what it was in the first place—Eddie was great with the details. It came in handy when remembering Christopher's teachers and friends and their parents. It was detrimental when he woke up from nightmares involving people he lost in Afghanistan.

His skill also came in handy at his current job—a bartender at a chain Italian restaurant. Though most of the drinks he made went to tables and he never saw the customers involved, many people also sat and ate at the bar and ordered directly through him. Those people were much more likely to tip well when he remembered details they told him, especially if they were a return customer.

The more tips, the more he could afford for his son, so Eddie milked it as much as he could without coming off as creepy or overly invested.

…

…

"Right this way," the host, Erica, said just before leading the next set of guests to their table.

Eddie glanced over as he made a drink, as he always did when new guests walked by the bar on the way to their tables—which they often did, since he was close to the entrance—and caught sight of a couple following his coworker. One was a woman with straight, blonde hair and green eyes, pale skin, wearing a dress with a floral pattern and an over-the-shoulder purse. The other was a man with blond hair slicked back, crystal blue eyes, a floral pattern shirt, and a pink smattering above his left eye. A burn? A scar? The man was so tall he made his date look short, when really she was of average height.

Then Eddie's attention went back to his drinks. Two red wines. A peach bellini. Italian margarita. Three dinner orders, an appetizer of calamari, a dessert of over-rich Italian-style donuts. Four beers. An amaretto sour and a spiked strawberry lemonade.

The last two went to the table with the tall blond and his date, and Eddie caught a glimpse of the pair when he watched their waiter deliver the drinks. The blond man was talking effusively with his hands, as was the woman, like two stereotypical Italians—except that neither of them looked at all Italian. Though they didn't seem upset, when their drinks arrived, both the man and the woman wore matching relieved expressions. Must be a first date in need of liquid courage.

Eddie had made eleven drinks when the floral woman left on her own twenty minutes later. Eddie barely had time to lift a curious eyebrow at her retreating back before the blond man dropped into a chair at the bar with a sigh.

"One beer, please."

Eddie's eyebrow raised further. "Any in particular?"

"Coors?"

Even as Eddie grabbed the bottle from the fridge and popped the top off, he asked, "You don't sound too sure."

The blond accepted the bottle with a small, grateful smile before shaking his head. "Yeah, I don't know. Dating's hard."

Someone hailed Eddie from the kitchen. "Just a sec." Turning around, Eddie grabbed the dinner plates set on the shelf between himself and the kitchen and moved to give them to the couple at the far end of the bar who had ordered them. "Enjoy your food."

"Thanks, Eddie," the older man said, before he and his husband began to dig in.

Eddie waved to them with a smile. He had barely stepped within speaking distance of the blond before the guy was speaking again.

"She really liked environmental stuff, yeah? Like renewable energy sources. And I did tons of research on the stuff, and we had a great conversation, right?" His eyes flit between the bar top and Eddie periodically as he spoke, as if he couldn't quite handle Eddie's gaze.

Eddie had no idea if the conversation had been good. He couldn't hear from the bar. But, when he had glimpsed them, they hadn't seemed at odds. The conversation had appeared to be going at least moderately well. "Right."

Tapping the bar absently with his knuckles, the blond grumbled, "Then why didn't she like me?"

They had barely spoken a few sentences to each other, but the downtrodden aura around the man had Eddie's heart aching. He wanted to somehow make the situation better, but though Eddie was good with faces and names, he had never been particularly good at comfort.

"I don't know, man. Sometimes people…just aren't meant to be?" It sounded more like a question than a statement and Eddie inwardly grimaced.

The man let out a long, quiet sigh, then nodded. Eddie stood in front of him for another ten seconds, but neither of them spoke. Then someone else took a seat at the bar and waved Eddie over, pulling Eddie away. He put in an order of onion rings and pulled out another beer for the woman, and filled two orders for Italian Rum Punch, but kept glancing back at the blond as he worked. The man sat dejectedly at the bar the whole time, silently sipping his beer and playing with the condensation accumulating on the bar top.

Eventually, the beer was empty. As Eddie glided by with wine for the couple at the end of the bar, the blond grabbed his attention by standing up. Their eyes met and Eddie stopped walking.

The blond gave a small, abashed smile. "Hey, man. Thanks," he said, pulling his wallet out and dropping way more on the counter than the cost of the beer. "Keep the change."

Eddie nodded. "Have a good night."

With a shrug, the blond turned and left the restaurant. It wasn't until the front doors had closed behind him that Eddie remembered he was still holding two glasses of wine and hurried to deliver them.

…

…

The next Friday, Eddie arrived five minutes late to work. Five minutes after that, he was behind the bar, already three orders behind.

"Let's go, Eddie!" Sheila, one of the waiter's, hustled him playfully. Eddie flipped her off, equally playfully. She wandered away with a chuckle.

Then, two hours into his shift, Erica said, "Right this way," and led a couple past the bar to their seats. Eddie glanced up, as he always did, and then did a double take.

The couple included a woman with long, dark brown, straight hair wearing a dark green, long-sleeved shirt and three necklaces of varying lengths. With her was the blond from last week, with the pink mark over his crystal blue eyes, except he was wearing earth toned clothes. A different shirt wouldn't be much to notice, but the blond's whole demeanor was more muted. He took smaller steps and didn't move his hands much except to wordlessly ask his date which seat she wanted to take.

Liquid poured over Eddie's hand and he quickly stopped pouring wine into the overflowing glass. "Shit."

"Language," a dark-skinned older woman sitting at the bar admonished, though she was grinning.

"Sorry, Carla."

She shook her head, then glanced over at where the blond and his date were sitting. "See something you like?"

Distracted by cleaning up his mess, Eddie jumped at her question. "What?" He followed her gaze, then quickly snapped his eyes back to cleaning his station. "What? No."

Except conversation in the blond's booth looked stilted. The woman was sitting back in her seat, not forward like someone who was enjoying their date's company. The blond guy kept leaning in when he spoke, then back when the woman responded, as if her words were physically pushing him away. If they lasted the entire dinner, Eddie would be surprised.

"Hm," Carla hummed, stirring her drink idly. "Someone's drifting gaze says otherwise."

Face heating, Eddie forced himself to focus on remaking the drink he'd ruined. "Carla," he grumbled.

The older woman let out a happy giggle before focusing her attention on the e-book she was reading. Eddie rolled his eyes at her antics. Carla came in at least once a week, ordered a flatbread and a bellini, and read her books. But she was also a huge fan of gossiping and Eddie never wanted to be the source of it.

Thirty minutes later, Carla had long since left. Which was good because that was when the dark-haired woman stormed out and the blond dropped into a chair at the bar. Eddie might have stopped mid-cleaning of a glass to go take his order. Maybe. But Carla wasn't there to see it, so it didn't matter.

"Another Coors?" Eddie asked.

The blond's eyes widened as if startled. "Wh-Huh?" He shook his head. "I hate Coors."

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. But he'd had a Coors last week. "Okay," he accepted slowly. "What can I get you?"

The blond ran his eyes over the visible beers in the fridge for a long while, uncertainty coloring his features. "Uh…Michelob Ultra?"

As Eddie popped the top and handed over the bottle, he asked, "Another rough date?"

Now the blond man choked mid-sip. He coughed until his airway was clear and then, face flushed, asked, "Oh god, was I that bad last week? You remember my whining?"

One of the waiters called out a drink order as he dropped the order sheet at the bar window.

"I'm good with faces," Eddie said. He motioned to above his left eye.

Raising a hand to his own left eye, the blond gave a sheepish grin. "Right." He held his hand out toward Eddie. "Buck."

Shaking, Eddie replied, "Eddie."

Buck lifted an eyebrow. "Somehow I already knew that," he teased, nodding toward Eddie's nametag.

Eddie gave him his most unimpressed look and, after a momentary staring contest, Buck burst into quiet chuckles. It was a much better look on him than the reserved, stilted self he'd been on his date.

For the next twenty minutes, as Eddie filled orders for tables and bar patrons alike, Buck talked about his date. How everything he said seemed to trip a hidden land mine. Commenting on how carb heavy the food was, and suggesting they go to the gym together to work off the extra calories, had been taken as an attack. Telling stories about things that happened at work had her snapping at him for judging the people he helped, even though he never intended it that way.

"She said she had a sister with two kids, and I said I bet they liked having her as the Cool Aunt, you know?" Buck said, motioning toward Eddie for some form of agreement. Only once Eddie had nodded did Buck continue. His hand dropped to the table, his voice and expression equally exasperated, as he said, "She said I was attacking her for not having kids in her twenties. That's not what I meant at all!"

Eddie grimaced. "That sounds rough."

He pulled a Michelob Ultra from the fridge and waved it back and forth in Buck's direction. Buck briefly glanced down at his two empty bottles, then shook his head. Eddie replaced the bottle in the fridge and instead filled a glass with water and slid that over to Buck instead. Buck gave him a grateful smile in return.

"Look," Eddie began, leaning on the counter in front of Buck. "It sounds like she's going through a lot, and maybe she has some…specific expectations in her partners," he tried tactfully. Buck snorted into his water and Eddie's lips curved up. "Point is, don't let it get to you. They say third time's the charm, right?"

Buck opened his mouth to respond, then shut it and contemplated the wall of glasses for a minute before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, they do." He gave Eddie a smile that could power the restaurant's electricity. "Thanks, man. You made me feel better last week too. You're awesome."

Flushing, Eddie shook his head and rearranged the lemons on the bar for something to do with his hands. Buck tilted his head to the side, regarding Eddie curiously for a moment, then smiled again. He stood up and pulled out his wallet, again dropping way more on the bar top than his drinks cost.

"Have a great night, Eddie."

Eddie nodded and gave a slight wave. "You too, Buck."

…

…

Like clockwork, the next Friday, Buck showed up at the restaurant with another date. This time it was a tall, dark skinned woman with springy curls and a lovely smile.

Eddie managed to keep his eyes averted from their table the entire date, but couldn't help the disappointed sigh he let out when Buck walked out of the restaurant with her instead of stopping at the bar.

Until the door opened again and Buck made a beeline for the bar, dropping into the open seat across from where Eddie was mixing drinks.

Letting out a loud rush of breath, Buck held the edge of the bar and stretched back. He made a huff of noise when he finished, and gave Eddie a small, almost shy smile and a wave. "Miller, please."

Eddie shook his head as he retrieved the beer. There was Buck, switching up his drink again. Did he even know what beer he liked? Or did he like them all? Sliding the bottle over, he said, a touch bitter, "Didn't think your date was that bad tonight."

Buck shrugged, taking a sip from his bottle. "Amari's nice. She's really into fine art."

He motioned to himself, and Eddie took in his outfit for the first time. Tonight he wasn't in florals or earth tones. He wore a suit, like he'd come from a gallery opening or the theater.

"Are you into fine art?" Eddie asked. The suit fit fine, and Buck looked great in it, but something about it didn't feel quite right.

Buck wrinkled his nose. "Nah, not really." He shrugged. "But Amari wanted to see the Reconstruction exhibit, and I…" He trailed off.

"You wanted her to like you," Eddie finished for him, quietly, remembering Buck's first failed date. Buck ducked his head. "Buck—"

"Three orders over here, Diaz!" Martin called from the kitchen food window, making Eddie jump.

He hurried to hand out the food and fill the drink orders that had been dropped while he was talking to Buck. Surprisingly, Buck was still at the bar, nursing his beer, when Eddie was done. Customers had left faster than that before when he'd walked away from a conversation.

When Eddie's steps slowed again, Buck spoke first. "I thought the show was actually pretty boring, but I didn't say anything to her, you know? I played along, asked questions, really listened when she talked about the exhibit, because she was passionate about it and that's amazing. But I think I blew it bringing her here." He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfectly gelled look he'd no doubt spent hours working on. "I think she didn't think it was fancy enough or something. I don't know."

Fire ignited in Eddie's gut at the thought of someone treating Buck badly. And over a restaurant. Eddie's restaurant.

"You did what she wanted all night. The least she could've done was not give you grief over a perfectly good meal," Eddie snapped. "And if that's all it took, then I'm glad it didn't work out."

Buck blinked at him in silence, his face the picture of a loading symbol on a computer. In the quiet between them, Eddie replayed his own words. Why was he so upset? Buck's second date had treated him way worse than this Amari lady.

Clearing his throat, Eddie tried to backtrack a bit. "Point is. A date doesn't have to be expensive to be nice. And you shouldn't have to, you know, pretend you're enjoying yourself."

Then he ran away to ask the other patrons around the bar if they needed anything instead of standing around waiting for Buck's reaction. He refilled non-alcoholic and alcoholic drinks alike, put in an order for parmesan crusted zucchini fries, another for a lasagna, and generally tried not to meet Buck's eyes. But that could only last so long, unless Buck straight up left.

Eventually, Buck half stood from his seat as Eddie passed by. "Eddie—"

Eddie stopped, glanced at Buck without turning his head. Buck didn't sit back down but leaned forward over the bar instead.

"I feel like I say this all the time, but…Thanks," Buck continued, his voice quieter than usual, urging Eddie to lean in closer too. A soft smile. "Sad as it is, I think you're the best friend I've got right now."

"Not if you call it sad, I'm not," Eddie retorted in offense, leaning away.

The soft smile grew, as did the warm feeling in Eddie's chest. "Alright. But you've got to admit that talking to the bartender instead of your coworkers or family? Kinda sad."

Eddie tilted his head in a sideways nod, sort of admitting the point. "Or you've got shit friends."

Buck laughed—a sound that Eddie liked more every time he heard it.

…

…

Coming home at close to midnight was not ideal, but it was better than not getting off work until after two in the morning. The perk of working at a restaurant bar instead of a full bar. Still, Eddie sighed as he pulled into his driveway and saw the clock read 11:47 PM. Pepa's car was parked in the driveway, white, old, and reliable. She always joked she could crash into a semi and win because her car was a tank.

Doing his best not to make his keys jangle as he unlocked and opened the front door, Eddie let himself into the apartment. As expected, the living room lamp was still on, Pepa sitting and watching her shows on low volume with subtitles as she waited for Eddie to return home. When he'd questioned the subtitles and asked why she didn't just turn the volume up, Pepa had chastised him for suggesting she wake up her great-nephew and told him the subtitles helped keep her eyesight and brain working faster, so let it be.

"Hey, Tia. Sorry it's so late," Eddie greeted, dropping his keys on the table by the door and removing his shoes.

Pepa rolled her eyes and scoffed. "One of these days, you will stop apologizing so much, Eddie. And I will die from the shock."

"How was Chris?"

Pepa pat the couch next to her until Eddie gave in and took a seat. "He was an angel, as usual. Excited for your little outing on Sunday," she said as if reminding him it was coming up. As if Eddie could forget that he was using his first Sunday off in months to take Christopher to the zoo. "How was work?"

Eddie shrugged. "It was work." Totally normal, including the weekly visit from Buck. "Buck called us friends tonight." And he couldn't help but smile a bit at the development.

Narrowing her eyes, Pepa asked, "Is this the Buck who has so many bad dates?" At Eddie's nod, Pepa let out a rush of air. "Ay Virgine Santa este—," she paused to take a deep breath, calm herself, then— "He's almost as bad as you when it comes to dating."

"Hey," Eddie groused, though he knew she was right. He hadn't had a date since his ex-wife left him three years ago.

Even as she stood to collect her things, Pepa continued, "Perhaps you two should get together off the job. Put you're issues together and you might actually manage to maintain a relationship."

Part of Eddie wanted to defend himself and Buck, another wanted to point out that adding people's issues together didn't make anyone a better date, and the rest of him suddenly had the image of Buck sitting at one of the restaurant booths on a date, but now it was Eddie sitting across from him. Maintaining a relationship together where they'd failed before with others.

"We're not that bad," he managed, but it was weak, and the look Pepa shot him told him she agreed.

Pepa leaned over Eddie to plant a kiss on his forehead. "Get some sleep, mi sobrino. Your wounded love life can wait until morning."

Eddie walked Pepa to her car—despite her insistence that it was unnecessary—before going to check on his son. Christopher was tucked in, snoring, his mouth wide open, one arm thrown wide, and Eddie smiled at the sight of him. No matter what was going on in Eddie's life otherwise, Christopher could always make him smile.

"I love you," Eddie whispered into the room, then quietly closed the door and headed to his own bedroom.

There, alone with his thoughts, Eddie was back to what Pepa had said, what he had imagined when she said it. Back to Carla's teasing 'see something you like?' Back to Buck's bashful smiles and the way Eddie had bristled at someone putting down the restaurant—what felt like someone saying Eddie wasn't good enough, not just the food.

It had been so long since Eddie had considered dating, even as a passing thought. He and Shannon had married right out of college, and their whole relationship had fissured and rotted soon after Chris was born. It imploded. She left. And Eddie had been doing his best to raise Christopher, to get him the medical assistance he needed. Casual dating wasn't an option.

Eddie saw dozens of attractive people a day at work, but that's all they were. Work. He remembered details about them because it earned him repeat customers and higher tips. But he couldn't lie about how he was already looking forward to next Friday because he might get to see Buck again. Might get to guess what beer he'd change his order to this time. Might make him laugh again.

Shit. Eddie had a crush on a customer.

There was no way this ended well.

…

…

The next Friday brought with it a churning of butterflies in Eddie's stomach that were large enough to make his hands shake. He was excited to see Buck again, to chat with him again. But that also meant seeing him with another date and admitting that seeing Buck date other people upset him because he wanted to date Buck, and that was still something he was coming to terms with.

The longer Eddie was on shift, the more he clocked the door, the more aware he was of the time and all the people in the restaurant. Sheila, Connor, and Zack all commented on it at one point or another as they dropped off or picked up drink orders, but he assured them he was fine. Just tired.

And then the moment came. Addison, another host, greeted Buck at the door, grabbed the menus, and led him and his date toward a table.

Him and his male date.

Eddie didn't drop the glass he was holding, shattering it into a million pieces, but it was a close thing.

Just what he needed: proof that the customer he was crushing on might ever feel the same way about him. Because they were both interested in guys. Because Buck's type seemed to be that he didn't have a type. Tall, short, light skinned or dark skinned, male or female. He dated them all. The spark of hope was completely inappropriate. He shouldn't be considering dating a customer. Besides which, they hardly knew each other!

Buck's date was a few inches shorter than him, pale, with brown hair about the length of Eddie's own. It looked like the guy kept in shape, but didn't work out the way Buck clearly did. He had a youthful face and green eyes and a trustworthy smile that he kept sending at Buck every time the older man spoke.

Eddie hated him.

"Ooo, I know I picked a good time to show up," Carla noted happily as she took a seat at the bar. "That look on your face is promising all sorts of drama."

"Carla," Eddie greeted, tearing his eyes from Buck's table and pasting a smile on for the older woman. "What can I get you tonight? Peach bellini?"

Carla shook her head. "Oh no. Tonight's looking like a strawberry kind of night. Now," she said, even as Eddie began making her drink and pointedly not looking at her. "What's got you in such a grouchy mood, handsome?"

Eddie shook his head. He would not admit to being grouchy. He wasn't going to admit to anything. Carla couldn't make him.

"Is it that hunk of man over there that I saw you peeping at a few weeks ago?"

Zack dropped a drink order on the order window. Eddie slid Carla her drink without making eye contact and then moved to grab the order and begin pouring the four glasses of wine it called for.

"Well I never thought I'd see the day," Carla hummed, almost as if talking to herself. "You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Eddie said, then inwardly cursed himself for responding. He moved to put the wine on the order window for pick up to avoid her knowing look for a moment.

When he returned, Carla took a long sip of her bellini. "Mm-mm. You make an amazing bellini."

Eddie turned to thank her—which turned out to be a trick, as she started speaking the instant he was looking at her.

"I understand the attraction. If I weren't married or were a few years younger, I'd have tried my luck with Buck ages ago."

The look on Eddie's face must have been a sight because Carla started to laugh. Eddie was saved from needing to come up with a response to what she'd said by another customer taking a seat at the bar. For a few minutes, at least, he could focus on greeting them, taking their order, and making their first drink. By then, there were two more drink orders on the window as well. And yet, when he had a moment to return to Carla, his mind was no clearer than before.

"You know Buck?" he asked, embarrassed by how eager he sounded. The smile that grew on Carla's face only made it worse.

"Oh yes. For years now," she revealed. She leaned forward over the bar and lowered her voice, like what she was saying was hot gossip. "He used to date one of my former clients. She was a lovely woman. Older than you by several years. They made a very cute couple."

"So what happened?" Eddie asked, abandoning any hope of appearing disinterested.

Carla shrugged and sipped her drink. "Her mom passed away and she…Well, she needed time." Her voice was careful in a way Eddie rarely heard it. Carla shook her head. "More time than anyone could reasonably be expected to wait, if I'm being honest." She sighed. "Eventually, he had to move on."

If asked, Eddie would not have guessed that Buck had experienced a bad break up before, but it made sense. After his first failed date, he'd asked Eddie why, when he'd put in the effort, had she not liked him. With each of his dates, he went above and beyond to focus on them and what they liked and what they wanted. He was trying to make up for the failed relationship of the past, somehow.

Both Eddie and Buck had been left by someone they loved. Whereas Buck tried to be whatever his dates wanted him to be, Eddie had closed himself off and didn't try to be anything to anyone. And look where it got them. Neither of them had managed to hold a significant relationship since.

"You know, I think you'd be good for each other," Carla noted almost absently. Then she hummed in pleasure. "If only you could give birth. You two would make some beautiful babies."

Eddie blanched. "Carla!"

She laughed.

…

…

Forty-seven minutes later, Carla was not around to see the frown on Eddie's face as Buck walked his attractive date out of the restaurant.

Eddie poured coffee for a customer at the bar, filled three drink orders, and absolutely was not wallowing in the idea that Buck had finally found a good date and therefore wouldn't be coming to the bar anymore.

"You know, I thought bartenders were meant to be friendly."

Eddie's head shot up from where he'd been putting away a dirty cup for washing. Buck settled in his bar seat and gave him a shit-eating grin.

"You look about to fight a customer. That can't be good for business."

"You—," Eddie paused, glanced toward the front door and back to Buck. "What about your date?"

A nonchalant shrug. "TK's really great, you know? Probably the best date I've had in a while. A long while," he admitted, then let out a rush of breath, like he was a bit embarrassed by that fact.

"So?" Eddie prompted, leaning on the bar across from Buck and ignoring the drink order that got put on the order window to his right.

Buck shrugged his shoulders and rolled his head at the same time. "Ehh, he admitted that he only agreed to the date because he and his boyfriend had a fight."

Righteous fury arose in Eddie. How dare someone use Buck like that?! Buck noticed his reaction and held up his hands in placation.

"He already apologized, Eddie." Despite the rejection from his latest date, Buck was smiling. How could he be smiling? "He said I was great, and that if he weren't still hung up on his boyfriend, he'd definitely give us a go." Buck crossed his arms on the bar and leaned forward, then dropped his head toward the table as if shy. "Said whoever chooses me is gonna be really lucky."

"Of course they will," Eddie agreed immediately, his tone still a tad angry.

Buck glanced up from the table. If Eddie had to classify his expression, it would be 'cautiously hopeful.' If Eddie ever met the woman who made Buck feel like he had to be cautious about the idea that someone would choose him first…

"Eddie—"

"Eddie!"

Both Buck and Eddie jumped at the call from the order window. There were three drink order tickets sitting there. Grimacing, Eddie glanced at Buck. "Sorry, I gotta—"

Shaking his head, Buck interrupted, "No, no, go ahead. You're at work." He gave a tight smile. "And I'm just another paying customer."

He wasn't, but Eddie didn't have the time, nor any idea how, to correct the statement.

That evening, Buck had Yuengling, and every time Eddie wasn't serving someone else, they talked. Best and worst dates—which had Eddie admitting he was divorced, something he didn't usually talk about. Buck took it in stride, if being astonished someone would divorce him and showing sympathy that made Eddie's chest warm counted as 'in stride.' Buck couldn't relate to being divorced, but said his sister could, and good fucking riddance to that man.

By the time Buck left, Eddie couldn't stop smiling. It was bad enough that five separate coworkers commented on it, but Eddie couldn't help it. The memory of Buck's face when he defended Eddie against his invisible ex-wife, the playful smile he wore when they fake planned revenge on Maddie's ex-husband, the way he said, 'See you next week' before he left.

Eddie couldn't frown if he wanted to.

…

…

Over the next few weeks, Buck kept up his Friday night date routine. He came in dressed to match his date—camo, plaid, shorts, and even the extremely thought-provoking emo-punk ensemble of Date #7. His dates ran the gambit from short, thin, and blond to tall, chubby, and black haired, male to female. Eddie would watch from the corner of his eye as Buck matched their energy, their mannerisms, as he molded himself to fit these people.

If his date left without him, Buck came immediately to the bar and ordered a Coors, wincing with every sip. Even when the dates seemed to go alright, Buck would come back inside and sit at the bar, but then he ordered a different beer, always a different beer, like he had decided to try their entire stock at least once.

And they talked.

They found that they liked the same sports teams, even though Buck was from Pennsylvania and Eddie from Texas and both of them were in L.A. Buck was vegan and loved that the restaurant was open to making many of its dishes vegan if one asked politely. He laughed when Eddie admitted he burned most things he tried to cook.

"I guess it's a good thing you don't have to light any fires as a bartender, huh?" he teased. Eddie smacked him with a towel.

Though Buck intensely researched the interests of people he was dating, he didn't actually like fine art or rock music or painting. When asked, Buck admitted he liked urban gardening, hiking, surfing, rock climbing. He loved physical activity and being outdoors. He liked building things with his hands.

"You should tell your dates that," Eddie advised after one particularly disastrous date. "Let them date you or ditch you because of you and not because of what you're pretending to be."

Buck had gotten a self-depreciating look on his face, hunched his shoulders, and said, "Hasn't worked out well that way either." A half shrug, and Buck couldn't meet his eyes. "Maybe I'm just not good for the long term."

That had Eddie smacking the bar hard enough that two other bar guests and the host of the night glanced over. Only when their eyes had drifted away again did Eddie focus on Buck and say, "That's stupid, Buck. You're good for it. If you'd just be real with someone, they'd see that."

Buck peeked up at him, then returned his eyes to the beer bottle before him. "I want that to be true, but it doesn't seem to be."

It was the only night where Eddie hadn't been able to lift Buck's spirits, and it gnawed at him the whole week until he could see Buck again. He'd been worried that Buck wouldn't stay after his next date, or that things would be awkward between them, but Buck had slid onto a bar stool, smiled, asked for a Bud Lite, and things had been business as usual.

Eddie told Buck he'd been in the army and, in return, Eddie learned that Buck had been a surf instructor, a construction worker, a ranch hand, a bartender, and a welder before happenstance led him to pursue a job as a physical therapist.

"I love it," Buck said with a beaming smile. "Helping people. I make a difference, you know?"

Oh, if Eddie's physical therapist after Afghanistan had looked like Buck…

"Definitely more of a difference than a bartender does, that's for sure," Eddie agreed, even as he prepared someone else's drink.

Buck hummed around the top of his bottle. "Don't know about that," he murmured, and when Eddie looked up, Buck's gaze was intense.

Eddie swallowed, hard, and fled to hand over the drink he'd made. He did that a lot. Using drinks and minor tasks to avoid situations he didn't know how to handle. But that look—It almost made Eddie think maybe Buck—Maybe. Just maybe.

Buck left soon after, leaving his usual large tip, as well as a wink and a, "See you next week, Eddie."

The idea of having a crush on a customer was still uncomfortable, but the fluttering in Eddie's stomach every time Buck so much as existed in his vicinity, let alone when he smiled or winked, was quickly overriding that. But Buck had brought a dozen dates to this restaurant, and however many others to dates at other locations. He'd never mentioned someone turning him down before. If someone like Buck—so open, on the lookout for love—felt anything more for Eddie than friendship…Well, he would have asked him out by now, wouldn't he?

…

…

Then, one Friday, Christopher caught a cold and Eddie called off his shift at the restaurant to take care of him. He heated up soup from abuela and an herbal tea from Pepa both women swore would have Christopher feeling better by morning. They watched Finding Nemo until Christopher fell asleep on the couch and started it back up again whenever he woke up again. Every two hours, Eddie checked Christopher's temperature and asked how he was feeling, and Christopher gave pouts and whines in return.

Purely by chance, Eddie glanced at the clock in time to see it tick over to seven P.M. Any minute now, Buck would walk into the restaurant with his latest date.

Would they be tall or short? Male or female? Blond or brunette or redhead? Would they have freckles or piercings or visible tattoos? Would Buck dress to match them, copy their mannerisms and their interests, trying desperately to have them return his affections? Would the date end well, or badly? And who would listen to him when he came to sit at the bar afterward? Who would know to give him an IPA because he didn't actually like any of the domestic lager beers he'd asked for so far?

By the time Eddie went to bed that night, the house was cleaner than it had been in months, Christopher's temperature was down without medication and his cough was gone, and Eddie's heart ached for a man he wasn't even dating.

…

…

Two days later, Christopher was feeling all better and they celebrated by taking a trip to the Santa Monica Pier.

They rode the fair rides, ate expensive truck food, and even played some of the games, though Eddie thought they were rigged. After the third time Eddie—and Christopher—lost at a shooter game trying for the big tiger prize, he'd had just about enough of wasting his money. And then—

"Eddie?"

Eddie spun on his heel and came face-to-face with Buck. In the middle of the day. Outside of the restaurant. He was wearing a white undershirt and pink overshirt, khaki pants, and his hair wasn't gelled down, letting his curls flutter in the sea breeze. It was the most dressed down Eddie had ever seen him, but it also seemed like the most him he'd ever been.

"Buck."

Buck opened his mouth to say something, his expression pleasantly confused, but then someone called, "Buck! Don't just walk off like that!" And then a woman several years Buck's senior, with straight brown hair and worried eyes, walked over and grabbed his arm, dragging Buck eyes away.

"Sorry, Maddie, I just—" and he glanced back up at Eddie.

Of course. A day at the beach was a perfect date spot. Of course Buck was there with a date. Eddie's expression shuttered. Buck must've seen it, because his own expression grew more concerned.

Before anyone could say anything else, Christopher tugged on Eddie's pant leg. "Dad. Who're they?"

"Dad?" Buck repeated, eyes flashing between Christopher and Eddie over and over, probably looking for the similarities.

With a strained smile, Eddie ruffled Christopher's hair. "This is Buck. He's a friend," he introduced, waving toward Buck. Christopher nodded, accepting.

"A-and this—!" Buck jumped to add, wrapping an arm around the woman's shoulders and making her roll her eyes, "This is my sister, Maddie."

He introduced her with so much nervous energy, like it was a supremely important moment he didn't want to screw up, like an interview or something. But Eddie's attention was more on the words themselves. His sister. This was his sister! Not a date!

Maddie gently pushed Buck's hand off her shoulder and held her own hand out toward Eddie. He shook it. "Hi. It's nice to meet you…," she trailed off with an expectant look on her face.

"Eddie!" Buck said before Eddie could even open his mouth. "This. Is. This is Eddie," he managed with a too bright smile at his sister.

Why was he so nervous?

Whatever it was, Maddie's eyes widened. She pointed at Eddie. "Eddie?"

"Yes?" Eddie asked, more baffled the longer the conversation continued. Did he miss something?

Maddie smiled at him fondly. "Eddie," she repeated, like just his being there made her happier. "It's great to finally meet you."

F-finally? Eddie's brain stuttered. Did Buck talk about him to his sister? Did Buck talk about him, period? What did he say?

"You too."

Buck knelt down in front of Christopher with a beautiful, beaming smile. "And it's also great to meet you!" He held out a hand. "What's your name?"

Christopher let go of one of his crutches to shake Buck's hand. "Christopher."

Buck's smile grew softer. "Well, Christopher. Have you won anything yet today? I bet you're great at these games."

"We haven't," Eddie said.

"Daddy's not very good," Christopher fake-whispered to Buck, making him guffaw.

Eyes crinkled with mirth, Buck glanced up at Eddie and back down at Christopher. "Well, that won't do. Come on. What do you want to win?"

Eddie shook his head as Buck stood up and reached down for Christopher's hand. "You don't have to—" But Buck shot him a look and Eddie shut his mouth, allowing the man he had feelings for to lead his son back toward the games.

Which led to Maddie and Eddie standing to the side, watching Buck either win the games on his own, or seamlessly incorporate Christopher into the attempt, making him feel like he was winning all the games all by himself. It wasn't long before they had the tiger, a giant tube of bubbles, and three aliens. Eddie had no idea where all these toys were gonna fit in their apartment.

From beside him, Maddie hummed. "It's good to see him smile," she mused. "He's been really down for a few days."

Eddie frowned. "What's wrong?" Was it anything he could help with? Would Buck even want his help?

Maddie shrugged, though there was a knowing glint in her eyes. "He went on a date, but came home early saying he'd realized he didn't even like the people he was taking out. It was all just an excuse."

"An excuse?" Eddie parroted.

Maddie nodded but didn't explain more, returning her eyes to her brother and Christopher. Eddie followed suit. Buck and Christopher were just high fiving, Buck congratulating Christopher on doing so good, buddy and then asking him to pick out his prize. Buck was smiling, and Christopher was smiling. They both had light, curly hair and big smiles, and it hit Eddie that they looked like a father and his son. They looked like family. Eddie's family.

And Eddie wanted it. He'd been holding off on telling Buck about Christopher, worried that Buck would pull back, that he'd express disgust or disinterest or something. But here he was, acting like Christopher was the highlight of his day. Treating Christopher just like any other kid, not just his disability. And Eddie wanted.

"Go out with me."

He said it too loud—almost a shout—and all three others turned to look at him in surprise. Eddie flushed, stuffed his hands in his pockets. For a moment, his eyes flickered away, looking for an excuse to leave the conversation, but he forced his gaze back on Buck. He didn't want to run away anymore.

"Instead of bringing another date to the restaurant. Just. Go out with me," he managed at length.

For several long moments, no one spoke. Buck looked at Eddie, Eddie looked at Buck, Maddie watched them both, and Christopher watched other people on the pier, though Eddie had no doubt he was listening. Finally, Buck smiled. It grew on his face like the sun climbing over the horizon, lighting the whole world.

"You want to date me?" Buck asked, as if not quite believing it.

Eddie nodded, unable to force any more words passed his lips.

Standing from his spot next to Christopher, Buck took a step closer, motioning to himself. "Just—Me? You know my track record."

It wasn't a 'no.'

Eddie rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Painfully so," he said, dry enough to make both Maddie and Buck let out little snorts of laughter. "Yes. I want to date you. Just you. All of you." He inhaled deeply. "I want to try."

Buck ducked his head, then glanced up from below, shyly. "Me too," he admitted quietly.

Now they were both blushing.

"I'm glad I ran into you today," Buck said, motioning to the pier vaguely. He hunched his shoulders. "I really didn't want to ask you out at the bar. You know, the whole skeevy, customer service, they-can't-say-no-because-they're-working thing?"

His concern warmed Eddie from his hair to his toes, and he laughed. He'd been thinking Buck would've asked ages ago if he were interested, and there was Buck, worried about harassing him at work by asking.

Eddie held out a hand and Buck took it without hesitation, beaming again. "Where do you want to go on our first date?"

"Not your work," Buck said, quick as a whip.

Eddie laughed again. "Okay. I can get behind that."

Someone cleared their throat and they turned to look at Maddie. She motioned to the pier. "I don't know about you two, but I think this would be a nice place. And today's a nice day. Why not start now?"

Buck frowned. "But you're here."

Maddie glared at him without heat. "And? So's his son," she pointed out.

Both men turned their attention to Christopher, who was now openly staring at them. He didn't look upset, though, which was good. Buck turned back to his sister with an easy shrug.

"That's different."

That's different. As if having an eight-year-old on their first date honestly didn't bother him at all. Eddie might be in love.

He squeezed Buck's hand, drawing his attention back, and smiled. "Today's the pier. But next time," he used his free hand to poke Buck's chest. "We're going wherever you want to go. Deal?"

The look on Buck's face was like Eddie had just gifted him the moon. He gazed at Eddie so fondly that Eddie felt like the Grinch—his heart growing three sizes in his chest.

"Deal."

…

…

Fin