Chapter Text
First responders usually have remarkable self control.
They have to. Lives literally depend on it- if any of them were to panic under the pressure, all that adrenaline, then people would die.
It was similar in the military. During war, the last thing that people needed to be worried about were their personal lives. Despite all of that militaristic, standardized structure, they were some of the most realistic fields regarding dynamics, Dominance and submission. Some people were still living in the sixties, where people tried to shove their designation under the rug, disregarding their physiological needs as personal failures.
Military scientists figured out pretty quickly that this wasn’t going to work after enough soldiers ended up sick with hormonal imbalances so brutal that they ended up lethal. An army medic, Eddie still ended up treating the occasional hormone imbalance- major mood swings, hyperreactive soldiers who couldn’t regulate their own bodies. Without proper dynamic practices, their homeostasis would end up so incredibly out of whack that it’d result in fevers, hypothermia, hyperthermia- most of which was remedied by IV hormones, but only if the soldier sought treatment in time. Which, because of how dysregulated they are, was usually not something they did. The military simply couldn’t afford to keep losing soldiers, so they had to get educated real fast.
Well, relatively educated. The acknowledgement of dynamic physiology came with a good ol’ helping of sexism, a different kind of war that Eddie knows they’re still fighting. He’s seen incredible soldiers on both ends of the dynamic- so much more about the person than about their designation. The concept feels simple enough. Eddie has no idea why so many people struggle with it.
After leaving the army, Eddie had never felt so imbalanced. The general structure of the army helped while he was gone, as did the constant need for control. It was common practice for soldiers to scene (sexually or otherwise) without an established bond. With how important dynamics are within the military, that sort of precautions were necessary.
Still, war is unpredictable. He couldn’t always get what he needed, and when he got back, he didn’t feel safe asking Shannon for help, either. She was a level 4 switch, didn’t mind subbing for Eddie most of the time, but Eddie wasn’t comfortable pushing her beyond the bubble of comfort they had. And then Shannon left, and Eddie had never felt so out of control in his life.
Eddie felt like he was going out of his mind, trapped in El Paso, raising a son he still didn’t truly know with his overbearing parents breathing down his neck.
He had to get out of there. For Christopher, and for himself, he had to get out of there.
Everyone needs to go to Los Angeles at least once, anyway.
~~~
When Eddie graduated from the Los Angeles Fire Academy, he had his pick of the litter.
Not only were there approximately five functioning adults in his class, but he had to keep himself in relatively good shape to be in the military. That, on top of his Army medic experience (and dual firefighter/paramedic certifications) left him in a pretty solid position. He had the most offers out of anyone in his class.
The night after graduation, Stapps and Preach decided to throw a little party at a bar. Eddie was tempted to decline, because it had been difficult spending this much time with them.
He was already a relatively private person. There isn’t really a proper time for him to do the deep dive into his history. He tells them bits and pieces of the truth, nonanswers for pretty much everything else. Feels a little too soon to tell them that he was mid-divorce with his estranged wife when she randomly died of cardiac arrest.
Too much Dominant energy mixed with firefighter adrenaline- all that posturing is just exhausting. Eddie’s about as high level as it gets, but some of these lower-level idiots so badly need to prove their own strength and Dominance that it just comes off pathetic.
Still, though, he was new to LA and he was kind of rotting in his own loneliness. It’s been a while since he’s managed to scene, and there’s just too much going on in his life that he doesn’t have any control over. Lots of change, lots of mess, and Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn’t incredibly wound up. His son, Christopher, had yet to present, but Eddie refused to give him any reason to believe that Dominants had more excuse than subs to be controlling, narcissistic dickheads, no matter what status he presents as. Blowing off steam and connecting with some folks might not be the worst thing in the world.
They went out to celebrate at a dive bar. Stapps was nearly four drinks in by the time Eddie got there, and Eddie barely made it through a beer before these fucks started to annoy him.
“Come on, man, what are you thinking?” Stapps wheezed. “You’re the golden boy, we gotta know which house you’re goin’ to.”
“I haven’t decided,” Eddie says. It’s curt, but honest, because he’s barely looked at the offers beyond their pay and general proximity to their house. Los Angeles is still unfamiliar, and Eddie had admittedly been struggling to adjust, trying to keep his head on straight for his son.
“Which ones are still in the running, then?” Bosko asks. “If you want to share.”
Lena was lower level than Eddie, but she was still a Dom and she didn’t need to prove it. Eddie felt a strong kinship to her from the second they met.
Grateful for the reprieve, he turns toward her, nursing the rest of his beer. “I’ve got offers from the 136, 118, and station 6. Wasn’t planning on making any decisions tonight, though.”
Stapps started to chortle, and Eddie felt the very strong urge to move tables and pretend he didn’t know this fuck. Eddie thought that he was leaving some of that small-town mindset back in El Paso, but he guesses there’s only so far you can run from idiocy.
“You can’t be serious,” he slurs. “The 118?”
Unsure, Eddie looks back and forth between Bosko and Stapps. “What’s wrong with the 118?”
Stapps rolls his eyes, chugging the rest of his beer before slamming it back on the table. Part of it spills onto the table. Bosko jumps, and Eddie passes her some napkins when Stapps starts up again.
“Their latest diversity hire is a fuckin’ mess,” he says. “I know that the LA freaks want us to be more open, or whatever, but some people just aren’t fit for the damn job.
Cringing, Eddie tries not to let his hackles rise. “What’s wrong with them?”
Eddie knows firsthand how important it is to be able to trust your team. When he left the army, it was the thing he missed the most- people who you work with, hand in hand, every damn day. Put your life on the line, you need to be able to trust the people who you work with to hold that line steady.
“Look, man,” Stapps says. “I know that I’m just a hick from the midwest, but look me in the eye and tell me you want a sub running into fires, bawlin’ his eyes out, unable to bring anyone back out.”
Lena scoffs from where she’s sitting, sharing a look with Eddie. “Go to hell, Stapps.”
His name is Steven. Stevie Stapps, and he’s got the nerve to be a judgmental piece of shit.
“What?” he demands. “Bosko, he’s a sub, alright? We’re giving you a pass because you’ve got more balls than a bitch. You ain’t a sub, not like that bitch.”
“He’s twice the man you’ll ever be,” Eddie says haughtily. “He’s a sub and a firefighter, which means he probably had to fight twice as hard to get past bigots like you.”
Eddie was intrigued. The thought of a submissive working as a firefighter, working their way through the awful fire academy and then proving himself with high enough scores to work at a house as high caliber as the 118?
Frankly, Eddie would like to meet this sub. He had to be one hell of a guy to put up with all this bullshit.
Eddie finishes his drink, standing up to close out his tab. Look, he gave it a go, alright? He came out here, spent some time with other adults, but it really wasn’t helping with the tension in his shoulders.
Ugh.
“Hey,” Lena says, and Eddie nods in greeting. “Heading out?”
“If I don’t, I’m going to punch someone,” Eddie blurts out, too tired to filter himself beyond that.
Lena laughs, tossing the bartender her card to close out her own tab. “You need to blow off some steam, Diaz. How long’s it been?”
Too fucking long for him to pretend like he doesn’t know what she means. “Few weeks.”
She whistles lowly, leaning back against the bar top. “You might need to do something about that.”
“I don’t have anyone here,” he says honestly. “I don’t know any reputable clubs, and I usually get by fine with taking care of friends and family.”
“You also have spent a while being in Academy,” Bosko says. “If I had to go through that without Lucy, I don’t think I would have made it. Diaz, you’re even higher level than me. You need to find someone.”
She’s right. Eddie knows she’s right, but he truly just doesn’t have the energy.
“I’ll be okay,” Eddie says. “Everything is under control.”
Turned out that the 118 had given him the best offer. Salary, commute, time off- super flexible, not to mention the Captain, Robert “call me Bobby” Nash. He invites Eddie to tour the firehouse, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. Eddie knows fuck all about architecture and interior design, but it’s all very open and inviting- a stark contrast from the station in El Paso.
“Well, Eddie, I’m excited to offer you this position,” Bobby says, sitting back. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Eddie has one question in particular, but he isn’t sure how that would come off.
“What is your team missing that my position is meant to fill?” he asks instead.
Bobby nods approvingly, relaxing. “I’m sure you’ve heard that my house has a submissive.”
Eddie blinks. “Uh-“
“It’s alright,” Bobby reassures. “He’s the only one in the greater Los Angeles area, so we’re quite familiar with the gossip.”
“I did hear about him,” Eddie discloses. “But that has absolutely no negative influence as to my job consideration.”
“That’s good,” Bobby says. “We’ve had a hard time filling your position because you’ll be working as his partner.”
“People have turned it down because they don’t want to work with him?” Eddie asks in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“The general consensus among idiots is that he’s unfit to be in the field. It’s unfortunate,” Bobby concurs. “But even if Buck wasn’t working here, I wouldn’t want any idiots like that on my team. Buck is one of the best firefighters I’ve ever captained. Frankly, you’re lucky that he’s holding the other end of your rope.”
Buck.
“That isn’t a problem for me,” Eddie says. “Or among anyone with common sense.”
Bobby chuckles. “Alright. Well, just one last thing, and this doesn’t leave us, alright?”
‘…Okay.”
“Buck is a level 10 submissive,” Bobby says, and Eddie’s eyes just about bug out of his head. The highest level you can get, and this Buck still managed to become a firefighter. “This isn’t something he likes to advertise, but it is relevant because of how close you’ll be working with him. I saw on your application paperwork that you’re level 10, as well?”
“Yes,” Eddie says, a little awed. “Yes, I am.”
“Full disclosure, working with Buck in such an intimate setting means that your work dynamic is going to play off your designation.”
Eddie nods. “It was similar in the military. You spend that much time in life-threatening situations, it becomes intimate. I know it doesn’t have to be sexual or romantic.”
“Good,” Bobby says. “I’m a level 5 Dominant, and my wife is level 7. This is a dynamic friendly station for a reason, and we all take care of each other. This is non-negotiable.”
Eddie feels something warm spread inside of him for the first time since moving to Los Angeles.
“Where do I sign?”
~~
When he and Buck had first met, it didn’t help Eddie’s intrigue.
Upon first glance, Eddie could see how Buck would pass as a lower level submissive, a switch, or maybe even a low-level Dom to the unobservant eye.
Maybe it’s just Eddie’s own designation, but it became glaringly apparent alarmingly fast that Buck was practically begging for boundaries. He was posturing and throwing tantrums on the very first day, and Eddie wasn’t sure how to respond.
His instincts wanted him to take Buck under his wing- establish some expectations, wrap Buck in the safety and comfort that a Dominant could bring him, but Eddie couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be consensual, wouldn’t be safe. Buck didn’t trust him yet, and that was okay. Eddie would earn it, in time.
Looking back now, it’s almost hard to remember a time when they weren’t… whatever they are. Friends. Best friends. Almost co-parents, if he’s being honest with himself. Chris could lean on Buck just as easily as he’d lean on Eddie, and he had very few words for how grateful he is to have someone else Chris could rely on.
“I know you’re probably exhausted, but I was wondering if you wanted to stay with Chris tonight?” Eddie asks haltingly. “He’s been bugging me to ask you to sleep over. I think he’s just trying to get some chocolate chip pancakes out of it.”
It had been a long shift, and Eddie wasn’t liking the tense set of Buck’s shoulders. Eddie could use some adult company, and there are few people he’d go to for that before Buck.
“Would that be okay with you?” Buck asks.
Eddie blinks, confused. “Of course. We promised that we’d take him to that weird museum, anyway. Tomorrow’s as good a day as any.”
“But he wanted you to come too. Don’t you usually spend Saturday with Ana?” Buck asks, an awkward hand on his neck. His face is carefully controlled, expression deliberately neutral. “Did something happen?”
“Ah, yeah,” Eddie says, trying not to flush. “We broke up about a week ago.”
Guilt overtakes his entire being. He shrinks back into himself, worry permeated in the set of his mouth.
“I broke up with her,” Eddie reassures quickly. “I’m at peace with it.”
“When did it happen?”
Damn it. “Last week.”
“Last week Monday?” Buck checks, and Eddie sighs. “Last week Monday, after I came over unannounced?”
“Which I’ve always wanted you to do,” Eddie insists. “I wouldn’t have given you a key or welcomed you home if I didn’t want you there.”
Buck glares at his locker. Eddie watches him as he does the cuffs up on his shirt, and Buck doesn’t even blink once.
“Hey,” Eddie says, and Buck finally looks up. “It was never going to work out with Ana anyway.”
“Did you want it to?” He asks.
It gives Eddie pause when he realizes he’d never actually thought about it like that.
“I was supposed to?” Eddie says. “That’s what was supposed to happen.”
He isn’t sure if he needs to elaborate. He knows he doesn’t want to, that’s for sure.
“What does that even mean?” Buck asks, and it’s a little snappish.
“You know what it’s supposed to mean.”
Ana was a petite, beautiful, sweet sub who Eddie’s parents would have loved. She was Latina, had a career as a nurturer. She was low-level submissive and thus, low maintenance, which were all upsides in his very Catholic family.
Buck’s family might not have been religious, but Eddie knows they were at the very least, traditional.
“Do you want that?” Buck asks. “You want someone who your parents will be happy with? The pretty, sweet sub who plays the part in all aspects of life?”
Eddie swallows heavily, not sure how much he’s allowed to say.
“I think I made it pretty clear that is not what I want,” he says.
Ever since Eddie noticed Buck had trouble when he spent too much time alone with his thoughts, he had encouraged Buck to spend more time with him. Buck is Eddie’s friend. His best friend, if he’s being honest, and there’s very rarely a time where Eddie doesn’t want Buck around.
If he’s being honest, part of it is for selfish reasons. Subs aren’t the only ones who seek comfort from their counterparts. Eddie tries not to be all gross and domineering, but sometimes he catches himself. Seeing Buck in his kitchen, knowing Eddie has provided him a safe space, somewhere he’s familiar with- it settles something in him he doesn’t want to examine too closely.
And Buck? He seems to love being there as much as Eddie does. He loves to cook for them- loves to help Eddie out around the house. Some of their favorite memories are made over a laundry basket or a cutting board.
Eddie pulls into the driveway. It’s almost natural, at this point, to leave enough room for Buck’s jeep on the left. Even if they don’t have plans, Eddie always wanted Buck to know he was welcome, make it easier for him to ask for help. He always has a place here at La Casa de Diaz. It almost feels empty without him.
That was part of the reason it hadn’t worked with Ana. No matter how hard he tried to explain it, she couldn’t grasp that he wasn’t just some ‘friend from work.’ Buck isn’t even just his friend. He’s always been so much more than that, and Eddie doesn’t have words to describe their relationship.
He’s Buck.
He’s… he’s Buck.
Eddie hears his key turn in the lock, and Buck walks in like he couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else.
“Hey,” Eddie says over his shoulder. “Christopher is talking to his grandparents, he’ll be out in a second.”
“Should I make dinner?” Buck asks.
Eddie pauses. “I think we still have some leftover casserole? I can probably just heat that up.”
“I got it,” Buck objects. “Sit down, I’ve got this.”
Eddie pretends to be offended, reaching around him to grab some cups and pour them both some bourbon.
“So, you know how that girl had that botfly in her face?” Buck asks.
As if Eddie could forget.
“Yeah?” Eddie asks, sitting down at the counter.
“There’s only one type of botfly that parasitizes humans,” he says. “The eggs grow inside of your skin, Eddie.”
Eddie wrinkles his nose. “I get itchy just thinking about that.”
”And,” Buck says, his voice full of anticipation. “They’re edible!”
Eddie almost chokes on his bourbon. Huh?
“Apparently, they taste like milk,” Buck says, stupid smile on his face. He keeps talking as he prepares their dinner. It’s just leftovers, but he heats up separate parts of it in different ways, taking care to plate it neatly and everything. Eddie asks more questions about botflies and although it does make dinner one notch less appetizing, the care Buck is putting into it more than makes up for it. He’s so absorbed he doesn’t notice Chris coming out of his bedroom.
“Dad,” Chris says, and they both look up. “Grandma and Abuelo want to talk to you.”
Oh, boy.
“I’ll call them later,” Eddie says.
Chris holds up his phone. “They said now.”
Buck snorts a little.
“Go take your call, Eddie,” Buck says. “Chris and I have got it from here.”
“Traitor,” he mutters, and Buck laughs.
“C’mon, Superman, help me set the table.”
Chris hands Eddie his phone as he goes to grab some silverware. Buck always includes Chris in chores, partially to teach him responsibility but also to include him, and Eddie has never appreciated him more.
A tinny voice comes from the speaker, and Eddie sighs, ducking into his room before holding the phone up to his ear.
“Hola, Mama,” Eddie says.
“Edmundo!”
She sounds delighted, as she usually does- with an asterisk, as it usually is. Like he’s in combat again and it’s the first time they’d been able to reach each other in months. Eddie texts her every few days, and he answers one of three calls. Almost.
“How are you guys?” he asks.
Ever since they found out about Ana, they’ve been elated. Pestering him, asking him intrusive questions, things he wouldn’t even know how to answer. Helena and Ramon Diaz are masters at meddling, and Eddie couldn’t stand it. It was one thing when he was a kid, but now?
“We’ve been worried about you,” Helena says. “You don’t call enough, Eddie.”
”I’ve been busy,” he says, trying to ignore the resentment bubbling up.
“Pepa told us that Ana Flores is no longer in the picture,” Ramon says. “What did you do?”
The Diaz way, he supposes. No beating around the bush. They’re picking a fight, and Eddie doesn’t want to give it to them, but he almost can’t help it.
“Why do you assume I’m the one who messed up?” he asks. “I broke up with her.”
“And why on earth would you do something so stupid? She was perfect, Eddie.”
Rolling his eyes, Eddie snipped. “Didn’t want to drag her down with me.”
They’re silent on the other end.
“Eddie, that’s not fair,” Ramon finally says, and Eddie swears he can hear his mother huffing through the screen.
“Neither is this,” he snaps.
“Eddie, it’s time to come home,” Helena insists. “This isn’t good for you or Chris. He doesn’t have any stability in his life, honey, and now that he’s about to present he needs someone to take care of him.”
“He has someone to take care of him.”
Exasperated sigh. “You know what I mean, Eddie.”
Someone stable. Someone who will take care of Chris the way they think he needs to be taken care of. Someone better than him.
“Mom, I don’t know how many times I have to say this before you hear me,” Eddie says. “I’m not coming back to El Paso. My life is here.”
“Edmundo-”
“And please, for the love of God, stop putting my son in the middle of this,” Eddie snaps. “Say whatever you want to me, but leave Christopher alone.”
“He’s our grandson, too, Eddie.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “And I’m your son.”
He doesn’t really know what he means by that, but he can tell they don’t really, either. It’s quiet- the other line practically dead, and Eddie’s just done. He’s done, with all of this.
“Gotta go,” he says. “Dinner.”
He hangs up before they can say anything else.