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There's a new coffee shop on the corner of Fairfax and 8th. Usually, Eddie wouldn't give it much of a thought. He has a coffee shop that he goes to regularly, it's one of his favorites and it's free– given that it exists within the confines of the kitchen at the fire station– so he doesn't usually go out of his way.
Today, though, he passed the cafe on his way to work and noticed that, for once, there wasn't a line out the door and so he figured, why not? He always wakes up early enough to have a bit of a buffer before his shift starts, and he would gladly welcome the caffeine.
Best case scenario, he gets a good cup of coffee that isn't far from his house or his job.
Worst case, he saves money by continuing to use the station coffee pot if this place’s coffee is bad.
He parks his truck in their back parking lot, twirling his keys on his finger as he walks through the front door, and the first smell that hits him upon entry is that of freshly ground coffee beans.
A good sign, he thinks.
The cafe is nice enough that he gets why it's been so busy since its opening two weeks ago. The lighting is warm and cozy, bright enough to be able to read a book, but not so blinding that it disturbs your retinas.
Low tables stand lined up against the windows, wooden chairs with soft cushions placed on them for comfort, flyers for local community events spread across a cork board like a collage, hardwood floors polished with a shine, and a rug placed in the middle of the shop that's wide enough to cover a majority of the space.
Two or three people sit alone at separate tables, typing away on their laptop, scrolling on a tablet, and flipping to the next page of their book. A few people sit huddled together, talking in low tones with their friends or family about what they plan to do after they leave here. Two people stand at the far end of the counter, waiting on an order they likely already placed, and one person stands at the front, looking up at the menu like it's a math equation and not a matter of preference.
Which reminds him, he should really decide on what he wants to order before he gets up front. He usually takes his coffee as a classic black roast, doesn't usually go for any of the bells and whistles, but this place is new, so maybe they have something he'd like to try.
His stomach growls lightly as he looks over at the baked goods display case, and he steps over to take a closer look at the options.
There's a wide variety of options available, fresh baked cookies with an almost concerning amount of chocolate chips, different flavors of loaf cake cut into neat squares, fluffy muffins filled to the brim with blueberries, double chocolate brownies, croissants–
He pauses, blinking twice at the little words taped above the chocolate croissants and laughing internally.
“Do not tap on glass. Baristas are easily startled.”
He briefly wonders how many people must've tapped on the glass before one of the baristas eventually had enough and went so far as to type this out and tape it to the display case. His eyes flick up and he lets out a genuine chuckle at the next set of words he reads.
“Do Not Flirt With Buck.”
He understands the need for that one more than the previous one. He's not the best at being on the internet but even Eddie has seen the trends where some unsuspecting teenager just trying to save up enough money to do something in the summer by working at their job, inevitably, ends up being the face of some random video where a group of guys or girls decide to hit on them. Most of the time it's against their will, although sometimes some people lean into the joke, flirting back with customers if it means the place they work at gets more business, but he understands why that would eventually get exhausting.
Even as a firefighter, he and the rest of the team gets propositioned more than he'd like to admit, especially while they're actively trying to help people.
It can be completely harmless, sometimes, though occasionally they get someone who chooses to be annoyingly persistent in their advances and it just makes everyone uncomfortable. So he understands wanting to be left alone so you can just do your job instead of being hit on constantly.
He feels bad for whoever this Buck person is. Hopefully it doesn't happen every day, he imagines there must be some reprieve in between the endless bouts of flirtation.
“I can help who's next!” A voice calls out, and Eddie perks up, tearing his eyes away from the display case and looking upwards at the menu as he walks up to the counter.
He hums idly to himself, deciding that he should just get a classic black coffee. It's reliable, simple, and if the shop can't even get a classic right then he knows he can save money in the future.
“What can I get you?” The barista asks kindly.
“Can I just get a–” Eddie starts, his eyes lowering from the menu and looking forward at– holy shit, the bluest pair of eyes he's ever seen in his life.
He feels his sentence catch in his throat and he genuinely has to count his pulse to make sure his heart is still beating because he's pretty sure his breath is completely gone in one fell swoop.
Pretty.
It's the first word to come to his mind and he doesn't think it's even good enough to describe the person– the very male person, in front of him.
He's seen rugged men before, he's seen strong men before, he's seen buff and grizzly men before– these are adjectives that make sense in his brain when he thinks of a way to describe a man.
Eddie has never, in all of his thirty-four years of living, ever seen a man so drop dead gorgeous in his life.
But this man, with his sandy blonde/brown soft curls, his bright pink plush lips, his evenly slanted nose, the light dusting of freckles along his cheeks, his unfairly long eyelashes, his– what the actual fuck how are they so blue– eyes, and his vaguely heart shaped pink birthmark(?) above his eyebrow– oh. Yes. This man is beautiful. Ridiculously so.
Now, Eddie would like for it to be stated, on the record, that he is a very straight man. He is straight, he has been straight, and that has not changed in all of his years of living. It has not.
But– just– objectively, he's allowed to admit that the man in front of him is the most gorgeous human being he's ever laid his eyes upon. He's allowed to admit that, quietly, to himself, and very, very internally, and it doesn't have to mean anything. Nothing has to change, if he admits that. If he allows himself to admit that.
That doesn't make him any less straight than he was before– is. He is straight. That has not changed just because he wants to trace this man's freckles with his thumb and count them one by one like constellations. That has not changed just because he wants to see how this man's perfect blue eyes sparkle under direct sunlight. That has not changed just because he wants to see just how soft those lips really are–
Fuck.
“Uh, sir?” The barista's melodic voice snaps him from his reverie.
Great, now he's being rude. He's been standing here with his mouth hanging open like a fly trap, staring at the prettiest guy he's ever seen, and he's probably making an awful first impression–
Not that it matters.
Why would that matter?
He doesn't need to worry about making a good first impression, as a straight man. He doesn't even know if this guy is interested in him– which doesn't matter, because Eddie is straight so it makes no difference anyway.
Unless– and this is purely hypothetical, of course– this gorgeous man happened to ask Eddie if he wanted to hang out outside of this cafe, maybe at a bar or something, then he would say yes, naturally. To be polite. It would be rude of him to turn down an invitation like that, and Eddie was not raised to be rude to pretty ocean eyed barista's when they invite him out to lunch or dinner with candles and a shared dessert with the same spoon.
Hypothetically.
Eddie clears his throat, trying to remember what words used to sound like coming out of his mouth, and his eyes flick down to the name tag on the man's broad chest.
Written on a silver plate with a pink, purple, and blue heart, a smiley face, and a coffee pin, there is a name in neat bold letters.
Buck.
His name is Buck.
This gorgeous barista is the Buck that Eddie was warned, explicitly, not to flirt with.
This beautiful man has been publicly flirted with so many times to the point of his job having to place a sign on the baked goods display case that actively discourages people from doing so.
Eddie wants to be respectful of the very clearly set rules of this cafe, really he does, but he knows if he opens his mouth right now, he isn't entirely sure he won't just end up asking this man when he's free, or if he's single, or if he even likes guys, let alone Eddie–
Not. That. It. Would. Matter.
Eddie is straight.
He's losing his mind. That's all this is. It's early, he hasn't had caffeine yet, obviously human interaction should be held off. Until he's had some caffeine. Which he can get here.
But then, if Eddie asks for caffeine here, then that would be breaking the rules of the cafe, because he would undoubtedly also end up saying something stupid.
So Eddie's best bet is to avoid it entirely.
He leaves the coffee shop without caffeine, gets in his truck, hits his forehead against the steering wheel a few times, and goes to work.
“Hey,” Hen greets him when he walks into the fire station, “I thought you said you were trying that new coffee shop today? I was hoping for a good review.”
Eddie looks down at his hands as if he's only just now registering the complete lack of a coffee cup held in them, “Yes. I am.”
Hen nods slowly, her eyes narrowed in confusion, “Right. I can't help but notice the absence of coffee though? Did you drink it already?”
“I am. I– will. I will get coffee from that place. Soon.” Eddie nods his head.
“Just not today?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Barista.” Eddie says, inexplicably.
Hen tilts her head at him, “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” Eddie says too quickly, taking fast steps to the loft so he can pour himself a cup of the station coffee.
Eddie drinks from his mug, grateful for the caffeine, but frowning at the taste. He can't help but wonder if the pretty blue eyed barista would've made it better.
Normal.
That is what Eddie is aiming for as he approaches the cafe the next morning.
Every five steps he takes, he reminds himself: be fucking normal.
He walks inside like the normal guy that he is. He will stand in line patiently like the normal guy that he is. He will order a classic, regular, completely normal black coffee. He will walk away after he has obtained his caffeine and not be distracted by pretty blue eyed barista's.
Everything will be fine.
He walks in, holding the door open for the person who was close behind him, he smiles politely and internally pats himself on the back for achieving a normal interaction. It proves to him that last time was a fluke, an off day. Eddie can absolutely be normal.
He turns around, scanning the menu to see if anything's changed, even though he's set on ordering a classic black, and notices that there's a new frappuccino drink “of the day” listed in playful blue, purple, and pink chalk. It's silly, and inviting, and probably filled with too much sugar, and maybe Eddie would be tempted to try it but he will not do that today.
Today is for normalcy.
Eddie steps forward as the person in front of him goes to the other side of the counter to pick up their drink and because he's the fool of the universe– Buck is there again.
This is fine. Everything is fine. He can be normal towards this man, its not a big deal that he gets lost in his jewel eyes, all he has to do is not look him in the eye, which is such an easy task really all he has to do is look down and–
God. Fucking. Dammit.
You can't be serious.
He looks down, and very quickly realizes what a mistake that was, because the beautiful angel man has his ridiculously fluffy looking pink sweater rolled up around his forearms.
It's a normal thing to do, if you're working all day and you're surrounded by multiple hot machines producing hot coffee, it's only natural that a person would get warm working around that all day. It makes sense for Buck the barista to have his arms on display with his many, many tattoos.
It's fine.
This is fine.
Eddie can be normal and order coffee and he can peel his eyes away from the interesting swirls of ink scattered across smooth, lightly freckled skin.
Is that a butterfly? Eddie thinks it might be, but he can't tell from the angle Buck's arms are positioned. If he could just adjust his arm slightly to the left and see the full picture of the butterfly that would be–
Insane.
That would be insane of him, to touch a stranger and inspect their tattoos. Eddie is a sane man, he is sane, and so he is not going to do that.
His eyes catch on another tattoo, placed just above the butterfly are two parallel lines of thick ink circling around the meat of Buck's arm, connecting through and through, and what Eddie would give to hear the story about that.
Why two lines? Why are they connecting? Did he just like the design or is there a story there? When did he get it? Did it hurt very much? Eddie's hurt when he got his tattoo on his arm–
In the same spot.
Eddie looks at his own arm, knowing fully that underneath his long sleeved shirt, an all too similar ring of ink carrying words etched into his skin like a promise.
He wonders if they lined up their arms would their tattoos connect? Would it line up perfectly, or be slightly off center? Would they trade stories back and forth for why they chose that spot? What the meaning of it was?
“Hi?” Eddie's attention gets brought back to the present as Buck speaks, “Can I get you anything?”
Can he get him anything?
He can get him a million stories. He can get him a warm day with the sun out, sitting next to each other and talking all day. He'd love to hear it, whatever it was that Buck would say. Eddie doesn't know for sure, but he thinks Buck probably has a few stories, he seems like he's been places. Maybe that's just Eddie projecting a bit, or maybe he should just open his mouth and ask–
Ask what?
‘Hey, I know we don't know each other, but you seem like you've been to places and I'd love to hear all about it over a cup of coffee that you make for me?’
Absolutely not, that would probably get him banned from the shop altogether, at the very least, and at most a restraining order from Buck the Barista.
Eddie would like to not get a restraining order against him so he does the smart thing.
He leaves.
The plan is fool proof this time. Eddie was out on a jog this morning, casually. He started getting thirsty, as one does. He needs a drink to energize himself, naturally. Caffeine is the answer, clearly.
He finds himself in front of the coffee shop once again.
No part of this is unusual, he is the very picture of Regular Guy Eddie Diaz, and he just so happens to need coffee, from this shop specifically, which he will successfully get today, with no problems or roadblocks whatsoever.
It's just coffee, he's not deactivating a bomb, the task is simple, he can do this.
He walks through the door, taking a deep breath in and out and bracing himself. For what, he doesn't really know, but he feels that it's necessary.
It turns out his intuition is correct. Standing behind the counter, as usual, is Buck the Barista and Eddie just about melts on the spot at the sight of him.
His curls are a mess, tossed every which way like he just rolled out of bed, he has visible eye bags from presumably very little sleep, his shirt is wrinkled, inside out and backwards somehow, and he's leaning on his hand on the counter, his eyes blinking slowly in a way that suggests he could probably fall asleep standing up.
He looks a mess, and it is objectively, cute as hell.
And maybe it's the pure exhaustion riddled throughout every ounce of the man in front of him, maybe it's his tangled curls, or maybe it's the drool leaking slowly from the corner of his mouth as his head nods off, but Eddie is reminded– inexplicably, of his son.
Christopher looks exactly like this in the morning when he oversleeps and misses his alarm.
“Oh– um, hi,” Buck straightens up as he notices Eddie, wiping the corner of his mouth and adjusting his apron sheepishly, “What can I get you?”
This is where Eddie should say something normal like ‘hi’ or ‘hello’ or ‘I'll take a regular coffee’. Instead, the words that come out of his mouth make him want to glue his teeth together and never speak again.
“I have a son.” Is what he says, unprompted, unasked, and entirely unwarranted.
Eddie stands there in front of the counter, his mouth gaping open like a fish as he tries to think of any possible way to salvage this situation that doesn't include him punching himself in the face.
Buck blinks at him, confused at first before a slow, small smile forms on his face, and the beauty of that sight alone is almost enough to distract Eddie from his word vomit, “That's awesome, man. Does he like coffee?”
“No.” Eddie answers slowly, his face heating up in a way he hasn't experienced since high school, “He's fourteen. So, no coffee. Yet.”
They're talking. He said words and now they are actually having a conversation.
Eddie said something stupid and somehow they are having a conversation anyway.
He feels accomplished in a way he should probably be embarrassed by.
“Oh, right, I forgot.” Buck smirks, his beautiful blue eyes twinkling with amusement, “You have to be at least 15 to unlock the glorious benefits of caffeine.”
It's not even a joke, just a regular comment, objectively, a normal thing to say, conversationally. And yet.
Eddie snorts.
Loudly.
In the middle of the coffee shop.
Once again, he is overcome with the urge to punch himself in the face, at the risk of that somehow being less embarrassing than the sound that he just made.
It's ridiculous, truly. Eddie doesn't– he's never snorted from laughter before. He finds things funny, as most people do, and he laughs, normally, casually, with a quiet huff and small rise of his shoulders. Normal. Subdued. Entirely non-obnoxious.
He has never in his life made a snorting sound from laughing before. This is, by all intents and purposes, a brand new development. Which means it's an isolated incident, and he should, for his own benefit, remove himself from the equation. Before it gets worse, preferably, somehow.
Buck looks at him with an expression Eddie is not currently brave enough to examine too closely, “Are you–”
“Sorry. Bye.” Eddie manages to say before he darts out of the cafe, unlocking his car in record time, and quietly sits with the embarrassment of his own existence.
Once again, he does not have coffee, which only makes his anguish worse.
Lately, Eddie's life has been a cycle of events that is as follows: He decides he wants coffee. He goes to the coffee shop. He interacts with Buck the Barista. He does not get coffee. He leaves empty handed and lacking caffeine.
A tragedy on all fronts.
Today, however, will be different. He has a guaranteed success rate today. Of getting coffee. Not flirting with pretty blue eyed barista's. Not that it would matter. Because he isn't– he's not– it doesn't matter.
The point is, he will get coffee today, successfully, because he has a secret weapon today.
“Really?” Chim sighs, popping his gum with his arms crossed as he looks up at the sign of the coffee shop, “You wanted to get coffee here?”
Yes, that's correct, he brought in reinforcements.
Unwilling reinforcements, sure, but when the team voted on who should do the coffee run, Eddie had no choice but to drag Chim along, otherwise no one would have their coffee. He can't explain the strange enigma that happens when he steps foot into the cafe where he suddenly forgets how to be a normal person and interact with people as humans tend to do, but he figured he should be on the safe side either way.
“Yeah? I heard the coffee is good here.” Eddie shrugs.
“You've never even tried it.” Chim points out.
“Doesn't make it less good.” He argues, “What do you have against supposedly good coffee?”
“Its not the coffee I have a problem with. Just didn't think I'd see the kid today.” Chim shrugs, opening the door and striding inside with sure steps.
Eddie is about to ask what kid he's referring to when his tongue promptly glues itself to the roof of his mouth at the sight of the man before him.
At the counter, Buck is at his usual post, but rather than wearing what he normally would, he looks much closer to something out of Eddie's dreams.
He's wearing a suit. Specifically, a butler's suit, for some reason. A classic black tie hangs from his neck, a crisp white shirt fitted across his broad chest, a black vest and jacket accentuating his strong arms, black slacks frame his long legs, his curls tamed neatly atop his head, and Eddie stopped breathing about five seconds ago.
“Welcome in, how may I help you– oh, hey Chim.” Buck greets with a smile, his shoulders relaxing in posture a bit as he recognizes– wait.
Chim?
“Hey, kid.” Chim says casually, popping the gum in his mouth as he leans against the counter.
“Still with the ‘kid’? You're barely older than me.” Buck rolls his eyes, playfully annoyed.
“Your sister would disagree I think.” Chim grins.
“Hold on.” Eddie pauses, trying to catch up to what dynamic is being presented to him, “You know each other?”
“Yeah. Buck is Maddie's little brother.” Chim answers, as if that should be public knowledge and not something that completely tilts Eddie's world.
Eddie has met Maddie before, he likes Maddie, she's very nice, and sincere, and the best person Chimney could have met.
Maddie works for dispatch and she had mentioned, occasionally, when they all go out as a group, how worried she sometimes is that she'll pick up the phone at work and it turns out her baby brother is in an accident.
Usually, the team would coo and aww at that, because it's apparent to them how much she cares for her little brother, and it's sweet. That being said, Eddie was under the impression that Maddie's baby brother was… much younger and not built like a brick house.
Buck is Maddie's brother.
Which means that even if Eddie didn't want coffee from this shop, there was a non-zero plausible chance of him meeting Buck anyway, outside of this shop.
He's never believed in fate, or signs from the universe or anything like that but that's gotta be something, right? Their paths would've crossed eventually, it just makes sense that they make the most of it and–
And what?
He doesn't even know if Buck likes him, let alone men in general, and none of that matters because Eddie is straight.
Straight-ish.
Kind of.
Does it still count as straight when he has dreams about kissing Buck? Does it still count as straight when he spends his day daydreaming about bright sparkly blue eyes? Does it still count as straight when he wants to peel off Buck's clothes and count each tattoo he has with his tongue–
Yeah probably not.
Okay, he's not sure he's technically ‘straight’ anymore, but he's also not interested in any labels. He knows he's interested in Buck. That much he can confirm, willingly and very eagerly.
“Oh, it's you.” Buck looks at him, his eyes softening in a way that wakes a bizarre amount of butterflies in his stomach, “You know Chim?”
Eddie blinks, his mouth opening to respond and then closing as he forgets what words he wants to say. He makes a choking sound once before he clears his throat, dragging a hand through his hair and opening his mouth again before closing it.
Chim looks at him strangely for a second then at Buck, “Yeah, we work together.”
Buck's eyes light up with barely concealed joy at that, the full force of his smile being directed at Eddie, “You're a firefighter?”
“I– yes. Mhm.” Eddie chokes out, his cheeks and ears heating up against his will.
“That's so cool.” Buck beams, and Eddie can tell, somehow, that he really means it. It's sweet, and so incredibly kind, and Eddie wants to thank this angel man for his genuine sincerity.
“Butler.” Is what comes out of his mouth instead, and Eddie has never wished more for a shovel to dig himself a grave as his face heats up even more.
“Wow.” Chim grins, “I think what he means is why are you dressed up today?”
“Oh, yeah, it's theme week.” Buck turns around, pointing at a flyer on the wall that advertises a cafe spirit week, “Today's theme is “Maid Cafe”, so we're all dressed as butlers and maids. Yesterday was cartoon themed, and tomorrow's theme is animals.”
“Let me guess, you're going to be a dog?” Chim jokes.
“No, I actually haven't picked one yet.” Buck shrugs, “I can't decide between a wolf or a fox–”
“Fox.” Eddie blurts out, his mind conjuring up images of Buck sitting on his bed in a too small fox costume just to torture him, “You– fox. It would be good– a good choice. I think.”
“A fox it is then.” Buck grins, leaning slightly against the counter, his smile baring his teeth as his tongue pokes out slightly.
Eddie is being tortured. This cafe exists specifically to torture him, he's convinced. This cafe is a black hole he occasionally enters where only enigmas are allowed to exist and Eddie is simply a bystander, pulled in by the natural gravity.
“Oh my god.” Chim crosses his arms, leaning in closer to examine Eddie's face as Eddie pushes him back.
“So what can I get you today? Is it just you two ordering?” Buck asks.
“No, sorry, we're actually ordering for the team.” Chim relays the group order as Eddie tries to find out which sea witch stole his voice so he can pin the blame on them for why he can't seem to speak.
“And you?” Buck asks, his smile once again directed to Eddie as he up at him through his lashes, ducking his head in a way that absolutely floors Eddie and almost makes him choke on his saliva.
“Yeah, Eddie, what can he get you?” Chim teases with an all too knowing smirk.
Buck's eyes dart to Chim and then immediately back to Eddie, his smile widening somehow, “Is that your name?”
Eddie nods his head so fast he almost gets whiplash, “My name. Yes.”
“Then what can I get you,” Buck tilts his head, his tongue poking out to wet his pink lips, “Eddie.”
He has never, in all his years of living, ever heard his name pronounced so sweetly before, and that alone would be enough to ruin him but paired with his gorgeous smile and those mischievous eyes locked on him, he's done for.
It's a K.O, a hole in one, a touchdown, a four pointer on the shot clock, Eddie is out of the game before he even knew he was playing it. He's hopeless, well and truly.
Hearing his name said from that voice, its enough to make his knees buckle, and he would probably have fallen over if not for the counter being directly in front of him. He does knock into the basket of gift cards sitting on top of the counter though, his hands scrambling to stabilize the rack, placing each card back in its place with panicked gestures.
“Jesus Christ." Chim attempts to stifle a laugh, unsuccessfully, but Eddie can appreciate the feeble attempt.
“Normal.” Eddie manages to answer eventually.
“Classic black? It suits you.” Buck winks cheekily, turning around and grabbing several cups to complete their order.
It suits him.
It's an observation more than anything, not even close to flirting really, but it could be, if Eddie reads into it, and he absolutely is because it suits him.
That means Buck has been looking, it means he's paying attention at least a little bit to Eddie's general existence for long enough to know what does and does not suit him. It means Buck has thought about, in some detail, the things that Eddie may or not like. Which means Eddie has been on his mind.
How often does Buck think about him? As much as he thinks about Buck? Less? More? Does turn over the words that Eddie says in his mind the same way Eddie can't get Buck's voice out of his head?
Well, not that he probably could, seeing as Eddie was only recently able to actually speak to him.
Which is embarrassing to say the least, and complete nonsense at best.
It's not like Eddie hasn't flirted before. He has flirted with people. Lots of people. A couple of people.
Okay, a decent handful, but when he puts his mind to it he can be smooth. He's told.
Historically, he can be a smooth talker. When he tries.
It worked with Shannon. He thinks. Although, admittedly, she spoke to him first and he mostly just followed her lead, but that was different, in his defense, because Shannon was just like that. She always spoke first to people. And it's not like Eddie is bad at speaking to people, he's great at it, five star reviews across the board.
It's just hard to speak to Buck when his smile turns all sweet and distracting, and his eyes are all bright and beautiful, and his arms look like that, and his hair looks soft enough to run his fingers through, and his voice is just so–
It's hard, okay, to speak to someone who looks like the closest Eddie will ever get to seeing heaven.
But it's not impossible, and he's proven that. He managed to say words, multiple even! That's an improvement, as far he's concerned.
He's got this in the bag, all he needs to do is say more words, preferably smoother than he has been as of recently, and possibly ask him out.
Wait, no.
He's forgetting the first rule that was established when he walked in here.
“DO NOT FLIRT WITH BUCK.”
He frowns, glancing over at the display case that, sure enough, still has the sign plastered on the front of it.
He wants to respect the rule, really he does, but also, frankly, it's quite unfair.
How else is he supposed to ask Buck out if he can't flirt with him? He's not sure he'll be able to ask him out in a normal way without it sounding flirty, and he honestly doesn't want to. He wants it to be clear, with no misunderstanding, that he is asking him out on a date, and not a casual hangout between acquaintances.
But if he's not allowed to flirt with him, then that defeats the purpose.
And he wants to respect the rule, because it was put there for Buck's benefit, he knows, but surely the rules can bend if Buck is the one doing the flirting, and Eddie is pretty sure he is because it suits you sounds a hell of a lot like flirting.
And sure, Eddie might be reading into it, a little bit, probably, but he's also good at reading tone of voice and Buck did not say that casually. It was said with purpose. Flirty purpose.
So Eddie has to figure out a way to ask him out, without breaking the rules of the cafe.
A simple task. He can do this.
“Alright, order up. Enough caffeine to refuel a small horse,” Buck turns around, slotting several to-go cups into two cup holder baskets, grabbing one out of the bunch and handing it to Eddie– with purpose, “And a classic roast, specially made for one.”
Eddie goes to grab the cup, his cheeks heating up as their fingers brush against each other and he figures, this is his chance, “Are you available outside?”
That is not what he wanted to say.
Not even close.
It's not even in the same ballpark of things that can be said smoothly. All he achieves is another awkward silence as both he and Buck freeze, blinking at each other as they both hold onto the singular coffee cup, and Chim struggles to contain his laughter via a series of poorly disguised coughs and Eddie regrets everything.
“I–”
“We need to go.” Eddie inhales, his face heating up rapidly as he backs away, grabbing his coffee and exiting the coffee shop.
Chim hurries behind him, grabbing their to-go trays and walking back to the truck with a quick ‘see-ya’ to Buck.
Eddie exhales as he opens the door to the car, “Not a word.”
“Oh but I have so many things to say.” Chim cackles, “Questions mostly.”
“You know what we should do?” Eddie sighs, “Let's play the silent game. All the way to the station.”
“But–”
“No.”
“You look grumpy.” Ravi notes, taking the seat to Eddie's left and stuffing his mouth with a slice of toast.
“I am not grumpy.” Eddie mutters with his head pressed against the table.
“He's probably grumpy because he hasn't had his coffee yet.” Hen says in the seat across from them, her pencil scratching letters into today's crossword.
“We have coffee here though? Just go make a cup.” Ravi suggests, pointing towards the kitchen.
“Oh no, Eddie couldn't possibly use our regular coffee pot for his coffee.” Chim cackles from the kitchen, sounding entirely too giddy, “He likes his coffee specially made. Just for him.”
“I feel like I'm missing something here.” Ravi says.
“What do you know? Spill it.” Hen lifts a curious eyebrow at their friend.
“I know many things.” Chim grins.
“Chimney I swear to god.” Eddie groans.
“Barista.” He says, as if that explains everything, and it probably does by the way Hen just nods sagely at the word.
“Ah, makes sense.” She shrugs.
“What makes sense?” Ravi asks.
Thankfully, the tones go off, rescuing Eddie from the conversation and giving him an excuse not to answer any further questions that he won't have an answer for.
“Let's head out.” Bobby calls, leading them to the engine as they all pull on their turnouts, “The call is for an electrical fire at a coffee shop on Fairfax and 8th. Ravi, Eddie, I want you on evac and containment. Hen, Chim, check anyone for possible injuries, localized burns.”
“Got it cap.” They all respond in sync, and Eddie absolutely hears what Bobby is saying but his mind is also running a playback loop of ‘coffee shop on Fairfax and 8th’ because he knows that cafe, and unless there's some duplicate shop directly next to it, then that means Buck could be in trouble, and he doesn't want to think about that, because his job is to help everyone, no matter who, but he can't ignore the way his gut twists uncomfortably at the thought of Buck being in danger.
They pull up to the cafe and Eddie finds himself moving as soon as the truck stops. Hen and Chim peel off separately to grab the supplies they need as he and Ravi start evacuating people and sending them to get looked over for injuries.
Eddie is not looking for Buck. He is helping an elderly woman out of the shop, reassuring her that everything will be okay. He is guiding a woman and her son to the sidewalk, helping them get away from the smoke. He is not looking for Buck. He is spraying the extinguisher while Ravi grabs a blanket for the fire. He is sweeping away remnants of the coffee shop to grab the source of the fire, which turns out to be one very destroyed espresso machine. He is not looking for Buck.
“Espresso found in the kitchen with the poison.” Ravi says, holding the machine with a grin as they report back to Bobby.
“We didn't find poison?” Eddie distractedly glances around, his eyes skimming over the crowd of people scattered around, staring at the remnants of the coffee shop or being helped by Hen and Chim. He is not looking for Buck.
“What? No, that was a Clue reference.” Ravi frowns.
“A clue to what?” Eddie is not looking for anyone in particular, he's just letting his eyes pass over any person with curly hair and that just so happens to be taller than maybe six feet or so.
“Eddie.” Bobby calls his attention forward, “You okay?”
“Huh? Yeah, I'm good, I'm just…” Eddie straightens up, facing his captain fully but his eyes glance over Bobby's shoulder, catching on curly bronze hair, a tall, broad frame and a blush colored birthmark.
Buck.
Bobby turns around, following his gaze to where Buck is sitting on the sidewalk being treated by Hen, “Looking for someone?”
“He's bleeding.” Eddie mutters, his expression turning worried before he can stop himself
“You know him?” Bobby asks.
“Uh, not really. Kind of?” Eddie answers awkwardly, trying to find the best way to explain why he's concerned about a barista he's barely spoken two full sentences to, “He's Maddie's brother.” Is what he settles on.
Bobby's expression switches from one of curiosity to surprise, “Maddie? Chim's Maddie? That's her brother?”
“Uh, yes. That's him.” He feels himself take an almost involuntary step forward, his feet moving of their own accord.
Bobby looks between the two, his eyes understanding, “Go.”
Eddie pauses, his body freezing up as his mind catches on to the direction he was going in, “What? No, I‐I can't, we still have a job to do here.”
“The fire's out, everyone is evacuated and getting checked over, and we've located the source. We're basically done here.” Bobby gives him a knowing look.
“But–”
“And as your Captain I believe it falls within your duty to check on anyone who was caught in the fire.” Bobby smirks, patting him on the shoulder and walking away.
“Right.” Eddie nods, his eyes darting in Buck's direction again, “It's my duty to make sure he's okay.”
“Sure.” Bobby shrugs, “You have fifteen minutes and then we're heading back to the station. Got it?”
“Heard.” Eddie responds as he heads towards Buck, unable to resist the pull any longer.
Hen is saying something to Buck, something about plants that Eddie doesn't have time to ask questions about because his focus pulls him directly into Buck's space, his movements automatic as he slides next to Hen. He takes Buck's arm as gently as he can, examining the long cut across his forearm, his fingers running along the parted skin.
“He's bleeding.” Eddie mutters.
“Yeah?” Hen gives him a wierd look, “It's stopped though, really just a shallow cut, I was about to–”
“Was there any debris in it? You need to clean the wound.” Eddie mutters, his mind running through the process so he can get Buck to stop bleeding, “Grab a sterile bandage, he could get infected–”
“Eddie. I know, he's fine, trust me.” Hen raises an eyebrow at him.
“If he was fine he wouldn't still be bleeding out on the sidewalk Hen–” Eddie gets cut off as Buck's other hand grabs his, lacing their fingers together and bringing his attention up to sparkling blue.
“Hi.” Buck smiles.
Eddie feels his shoulders relax slightly under the weight of that soothing gaze, “H- uh, Hi.”
“I'm okay.” Buck says, his voice soft as he tilts his head slightly.
“You're bleeding out–” Eddie argues.
“From a shallow wound, that's already being treated. She's your teammate right?” Buck nods at Hen.
Eddie glances at Hen then down at Buck's arm, “Yes.”
“And you trust her?”
“Yes.”
“Then I'm okay.” Buck reassures him.
Eddie looks at Buck, then at Hen, his cheeks heating up in slight embarrassment from retrospectively realizing he might've overreacted, “You're right. Sorry, I– um.”
“You're a worrier.” Buck's thumb does a distracting little dance across Eddie's knuckles that sends a tingle up his spine, “It's okay. I think it's cute.”
“Can I ask why you're bleeding?” Eddie chokes out, choosing to absolutely not freak out internally over being called cute.
“I was standing next to the espresso machine when it self destructed. My arm got cut in the process.” Buck shrugs.
“You should probably get in contact with your boss since that means this was a workplace injury.” Eddie mentions as he finds himself getting continuously distracted by how warm and right it feels to hold Buck's hand, “I'm sorry you got hurt.”
“I'm not.” Buck grins unashamedly, “It got me to be outside after all.”
Eddie tilts his head, confused at what he means by that before his words from the previous day catch up to him, his cheeks blazing hot at the memory, “Oh.”
“So, to answer your question, I am outside now.” Buck smiles.
“I see that.” Eddie nods, pointedly ignoring Hen's amused gaze.
“And I am very available. If you had anything else you wanted to maybe ask me.” Buck nods encouragingly.
“Jesus– okay. I promise I'm not this… awkward usually.” Eddie sighs.
“Okay.” Buck smiles.
“But the sign– inside, on the display case, it said– the rule said that you–” Eddie groans, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Oh wow.” Buck exhales, his smile far too delighted, “You wanted to follow the “do not flirt with me” sign so bad that you had to actually walk away? Multiple times? Just to not flirt with me?”
“God dammit.” Eddie groans, pulling away to stand up before Buck's hand pulls him back.
“No, no, no, please don't leave again.” Buck pleads through his giggles and god if Eddie could listen to that sound all day, “I'm pretty sure this is the most amount of words you've said to me, I don't want it to end just yet.”
“Then maybe I can take you out some time and say a lot more words over dinner?” Eddie internally pats himself on the back for remembering that he can, in fact, be smooth when it counts.
Buck's cheeks turn a beautiful rosy shade of pink and Eddie is all too happy to see his birthmark change into the same color, “Absolutely yes.”
“Really?” Eddie exhales on a relieved breath.
“Yes.” Buck nods excitedly, moving closer and slightly jostling Hen as she wraps his arm, “I couldn't tell if you were actually interested in me or not but I've been hoping for weeks now that you would ask me out.”
“I'm very interested.” Eddie blurts out, biting his lip, “I'm not– I've never been more interested in a person, than I am with you.”
“Good to know.” Buck grins.
“Eddie! Hen! We're heading out.” Bobby calls from the engine.
“Well, your arm is all set. Remember to change the dressing tomorrow or if you get it wet.” Hen stands up, packing her bag again and patting Buck on the shoulder, “Nice to meet you, Buck. I suspect I'll be seeing you around more often.”
Buck looks at Eddie, his thumb doing that dance again, “I hope so.”
Hen walks toward the engine, glancing at Eddie once before heading off. Eddie stands up, his arm pulling Buck up along with him and stabilizing him, careful of his arm.
“Can I get your number?” Eddie asks, doing his best not to get lost in the way Buck's expression looks so incredibly tender.
“Give me your phone?” Buck smiles.
Eddie pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocking it quickly and handing it back to Buck. He types in his number with such quick effeciency that Eddie has no doubt he gets asked the question often.
“There you go. Saved myself as Buck with a heart so you know it's me.” Buck beams, his smile sweet as honey and Eddie has never been the type to rush things but fuck he has never wanted to kiss anyone more than he does right now.
“Perfect.” Eddie chuckles.
“Eddie! Lets go.” Bobby calls again.
“Please don't forget to call me.” Buck rushes to say, his hand briefly squeezing Eddie's hand before letting go and Eddie immediately misses the warmth.
“Trust me, I couldn't forget you if I tried.” Eddie promises, waving goodbye as he joins the rest of the team in the truck.
“So–” Chim starts as soon as Eddie sits down.
“No.”
“But I have so many questions.” He groans.
“Curiosity killed the cat, Chim.” Eddie points out.
“I also have questions.” Ravi raises his hand.
“No.” Eddie reiterates, unable to kill the smile off his face as he types out a message to his latest contact.
To: Buck ♡
E: I'm still going to call you later but I just wanted to ask if you're okay with Sunday at 7:30pm? For Dinner?
B: thought you'd never ask ;)
E: Is that a yes?
B: duh ♡