Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“In 100 feet, turn right.” The robotic voice of the GPS called out way too loudly in the cramped van. “Your destination will be on the left.”

“How far is 100 feet?” Evan Buckley asked in exasperation, driving slowly and scanning the road diligently for his turn. “Seriously, did I pass it again?!”

He was currently on his third loop of the block, searching desperately for the right turn. Driving in LA traffic wasn't easy in a regular vehicle, but it was much harder in a large GMC catering van with blacked out windows and the back piled floor to ceiling with food. The only visibility he had were the side mirrors and front windows, and that wasn't enough judging by how many cars have already honked at him. The office was definitely getting calls about his driving today.

Finally, he saw the firehouse, but without seeing the supposed right turn he decided to just whip it in over the curb. Everything in the back rattled and shook, a milk crate slamming against the cage separating the driver's area from the back. The crate hit the metal caging loud enough to make his ears ring. He slammed the brakes as soon as the tires hit pavement again, looking up in satisfaction at the parking lot for Firehouse 118. Something tipped over in the back with a loud crash. Evan pointedly refused to look and see what it was. The sad metal folding chair that served as the middle seat had something dripping under it from the back, a slowly growing ominous puddle.

“Well, it’s a firehouse. I’m sure they have a hose I can use to clean out the van.” Evan said, trying to stay positive. “And soap.” He tacked on as the liquid got closer to his side, scrunching his nose at the smell.

He drove the van forward, pulling up to the back side of the building that the office manager, Carynne, had shown him that morning in a blurry picture fresh from her flip phone. 

Text from: Carynne
Ask the firefighters to unlock the door for you

Text from: Carynne
But be fast you don’t want to brother them

Text from: Carynne
fucl i gate this phone

Evan could relate. He also hates her phone. Throwing the van in park, he hesitates to turn off the ignition. He’s here. He’s finally here! At the new kitchen and ready for new beginnings. Hopefully the firefighters are nice and won’t hate him on sight. He’s already been repeatedly warned by the office staff to keep the kitchen quiet so as to not disturb the firefighters, but as he tried to explain to them, he can’t really keep the kitchen quiet; it’s a commercial kitchen, they’re loud by default. Even if he tip-toed and whispered, using the industrial dishwasher would ruin a kindergartener's naptime. “Hopefully it won’t ruin firefighter naptime.” He sighs, dropping his head back against the headrest. “I… don’t want to deal with this. At all.” He groans, glancing in the rearview mirror to see the catastrophe that he’s created from the contents of the walk-in fridge. He emptied out as much as he could from the old kitchen walk-in, deciding to tackle the hardest job first, and now he was reconsidering his decisions. The blacked out windows offered a shrouding of the mess, but the bits of it he could see had him worried. That suspicious white blob was either spilled milk or spilled yogurt and he wasn’t sure which one he was hoping for.

“You have arrived at your destination.” His GPS abruptly screamed at him, earning a loud swear and a beep of the horn as he flinched.

“Oh my god.” He exclaimed, hand pressed firmly over his heart. 

Suddenly there was a knock at his window, a man’s face almost pressed against the glass as he peered in, and Evan flinched again.

“Oh, my god!” He did not shriek, almost falling out of his seat onto the growing spill of grossness on the floor. He would have, if it wasn’t for the tight hold of the seatbelt. Thank god for the fear mongering of the click-it-or-ticket campaign in Pennsylvania when he was a kid or else he’d be laying on in the grossness.

The guy outside raised his eyebrows behind a pair of aviator sunglasses, popping his gum loud enough that Evan could hear it through the glass. Evan quickly rolled down the window, a manual handle making it a slower task and squeaking with each turn, both of them staring at each other behind their sunglasses until the window was completely down.

“You okay?” The man, a firefighter with the 118 judging by his uniform, asked after a beat. The warm breeze blew in the smell of his gum, one Evan immediately recognized.

“Is that the Trident Vibes Sour Patch Kids gum?” He blurts. The man popped another bubble, chewing loudly and judgmentally. Evan paused. “Oh. Um, hi? Sorry, I’m Evan. I’m with the catering company? De-Lighted Fine Catering?” The man continued to stare and his eyebrows were climbing higher with every word he spoke. “Uh, you could see that. Because of the van. Right.” He laughed nervously, quickly turning off the ignition and going to unbuckle himself, frowning as the seatbelt button didn’t do anything. “Um, I don’t know if you’re expecting us? Me, I mean, not us, uh. It’s just me today.” He said, pressing the seatbelt buckle button harder to unlatch it. It didn’t unlatch. “Moving the entire kitchen by myself in one day! It’s fine, it’ll be fine. It’s like, a free gym day, right?” He shook the seatbelt buckle a bit desperately, still not freed of its confines. “Oh my god I’m stuck.”

The guy reached through the window and across him and pressed the seatbelt buckle, unlatching it effortlessly. The seatbelt stayed limp, refusing to roll back into the door panel. Sad limp seatbelt. “Hi, Buckle. I’m Chimney.” 

His eyes went wide. “How do you almost know my last name?” He asks, startled.

The guy, Chimney, looks just as startled. “What?”

Evan clambers out of the van none-too-gracefully. “Sorry about that, it’s been, uh, a long day.” He apologizes quickly. “Are you here to let me into the kitchen?”

“Yeah, Bobby sent me down.” Chimney said slowly, holding up a shiny metal key on a ring. On the same ring is a keychain of a fat cat in a little chef hat. “He wanted to come down and meet you first thing but he’s got a lot of paperwork to get done, so you’ll meet him later. It’s just you today?” Chimney asked, turning and walking to the side door as he spoke.

“Yeah, uh, yes.” Evan stammers, quickly grabbing his clipboard off of the dashboard and following him to the door. “We had movers but they, uh, didn’t show up? So it’s just me.”

Chimney paused in unlocking the door, giving him a weird look. “Uh huh. Well, here you are.” He opens the door with a flourish, walking in first. Automatic lights flicked on after a few seconds. “To your left are the walk-in and the freezer, in that order. Down that way we have some storage, the firehouse uses some shelving but you can have the rest, just don’t mess with our stuff, okay?” He looked over his shoulder pointedly, and Evan hurried to nod along. “Good.” He punctuated with a snap of his gum. “This way,” he said, walking them straight in from the front door to the one mirroring it, “leads us to the pantry there on the left, the ice machine on the right, and straight through the final door…” Chimney flung open the door dramatically, holding it open with one hand and gesturing Evan through with the other, “is the kitchen.”

“I can use all of this, right?” Evan asks quickly, doing a circle of the small kitchen. “The ovens, the steamer, the slicer?”

“All that and the dishwasher.” Chimney says. “Bobby had some points he wanted to go over with you himself, but mostly just keep things clean and don’t be too loud. Our bunk room is on the other side of this wall.” He explained, walking through the kitchen to the door beside the dish pit. “Your bathrooms are down this hall, and this is our shared door.” Chimney came to a stop in front of the actual final door, one heavier than the rest. “This is always unlocked, and we can come through whenever, but you and your crew can’t come through to our side. Understand?”

“Why not?” Evan asks, frowning but making note of it on the clipboard.

“It’s a safety hazard. This leads right into our bay, so if you come through something can happen. If it’s an emergency or something then you can, but be careful and don’t wander around. Capiche?”

“Capiche.” Evan confirms, nodding quickly.

“Any questions?” Evan opens his mouth to answer, but Chimney barrels through. “Save them for Bobby.” Here Chimney finally paused, one hand on the doorknob and the other finally lifting his sunglasses from his eyes. He frowns, looking at Evan’s face closely. “Have we met before?”

“Um, I don’t think so?” Evan said, eyes wide. “But wait, who-who’s Bobby?”

“Bobby is the Captain of the 118.” Chimney said. “What he says goes, so if you get on his bad side…” He trails off meaningfully with a snap of his gum. “Yeah?”

“Y-yeah.” 

“Good. And hey, if you spill anything in the parking lot, make sure you clean it up. Bobby likes things clean.” The firehouse alarm starts ringing, making Evan flinch hard. Chimney gives him a little salute before taking off out the door into the truck bay with a parting call of, “Nice to meet you, Buckle.”

“Ah, actually it's Evan…” Evan says unheard. Feeling completely out of his element, he turned and went back through the hallway into the small kitchen. It somehow seemed both bigger and smaller now that he was here alone. Looking at the equipment lineup, he begins a quick sketch on his clipboard of where his equipment could go. It’d be a tight fit, but he’s confident he can get everything in there.

A few hours later, Evan was deeply regretting that confidence. The van had been a nightmare after his driving sent everything flying, and he didn’t have time to clean it up, instead he just unloaded everything from that trip into the walk-in fridge and went back to his old kitchen to start trip two. Loading up the ovens and kitchen equipment by himself was a struggle, but he did it! The firehouse bays were empty still when he made it back to the kitchen, finding the correct turn into the parking lot this time, and began the task of unloading heavy equipment by himself. He got the proofing box unloaded and into the kitchen okay, a rack of shelves taller than him in an enclosed heated box with a door meant for proofing breads or keeping hot food warm. It was the AutoShams he was struggling with. The AutoSham is a large, hefty oven with a feature to cook something and turn itself off when the timer is done but keep the food warm. Incredibly useful in a business like this, but unfortunately very heavy.

Doubled over, hands on his knees and trying not to throw up, Evan successfully had one AutoSham on the ground, the second AutoSham still in the back of the van. “Ow.” He groaned, trying to pull himself back together. “Okay, maybe if I grab it from the bottom this time? Or…” he climbed into the back of the van, pushing the oven close to the open back doors. “I could just do this the easy way. Please don't break.” He started pushing it out the back of the van until it was almost at tipping point, then jumped down to the ground to pull it the rest of the way. Propping it on his shoulder, hands using the gaps in between the doors as handholds, he began easing it to the ground. Then his legs started to give out and he felt a flash of embarrassment. Oh god, he was about to get crushed to death in a hilariously stupid way in front of the firefighters who already hate him. His blood is going to make such a mess, and Chimney said that Bobby hates messes and so the fire captain is really going to hate him now-

“Woah, hang on!”

-and then a body is pressed beside him, grabbing the AutoSham and helping him drop it to the ground. It doesn’t break, thank god, but it did make a concerning noise when hitting the asphalt.

“You must be Buckle.” The man says beside him, which, what? Buckle? He doesn’t sound winded from that at all, how unfair.

“You talked to Chimney.” Evan groaned, partly from exasperation and partly from almost being flattened by a glorified oven. 

“Sure did. He told us all about you, figured I had to come meet you myself. I’m Eddie.” The man introduced himself, holding a hand for Evan to shake or haul himself back to standing with. Evan used it for both, straightening up and cracking his back.

“Hi Eddie, I’m apparently Buckle. Thanks for the save, man.”  

Eddie clapped him on the shoulder, both of them looking to stare at the mess on the asphalt. He had really tried to keep things clean, but his own driving was working against him here.

“You might wanna get that cleaned up before Cap sees it.” Eddie tells him, gesturing to the white slime mixture seeping into the asphalt. It seems to have absorbed some chunks, which, ew.

Evan groaned, bringing his still-shaking hands up to scrub at his face. “Yeah, so I’ve been told.” 

“He really hates mess, man.” Eddie tells him.

“Yeah, Chimney mentioned that.” Evan said.

They both stared at the AutoSham, in all of its dirty metal glory. “Uh, if you have a few minutes, can you help me get this inside?” He asked hopefully, and a bit hesitant. He’s really not used to asking people for help, but he knows at his level of exhaustion there’s no way he’ll be able to get this AutoSham inside by himself.

“Yeah, no way I’m letting you have all the fun here.” Eddie said, giving him an amused grin, and moving around to the oven. “How are we going to…?”

“Grab on like this.” Evan said quickly, squatting down to get his hands in position. “Not on the door, that’s not secure and it’ll break and fall. Perfect, yeah, so let’s lift on three. One, two, three!”

They both lift it at the same time, Evan walking them backwards to the kitchen until they can set it down in the spot he picked out in the corner of the kitchen. 

Eddie looked around the kitchen and whistled. “Wow, this looks so different.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve changed some things up.” Evan said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I’ve got some more things I’m going to change, it’s all on my clipboard.” He explained. The kitchen did look entirely different now, with some of the appliances moved around to fit his, and his equipment and tools now taking up space on the tables. “I need to get some hooks to put some of these up, but overall I think it’s going okay.”

“This is more than okay.” Eddie said. “You did this all by yourself?” He asked, turning to give Evan a concerned frown.

“Yeah, uh, it’s fine though, the worst of it is done!” Evan said, giving him a smile. “The AutoSham was the hardest part, honestly I’m not sure how I even got it up in the van.”

Eddie clapped him on the shoulder again. “Yeah, you’re not doing that alone again. Next time you need to move heavy equipment around, ask for help. Let’s get that second, what, auto-clam?”

“AutoSham.” Evan corrects easily with a laugh, feeling more at ease than he had in a while.

Eddie helped him carry in the second one into the building and slide them both in place in the kitchen, and now the worst of the move in is done. All that’s left to move now is pans and trays. All of the food from the freezer and walk-in is now here and shoved out of sight, with some exceptions in dry storage that he still needs to get, along with all of the important equipment.

“Thanks again for the save, man.” Evan thanked him, and was answered by Eddie pressing his phone into his hands with a contact card pulled up for ‘Buckle’. “Oh, is this…?”

“We need to hang out sometime, I know Hen and Chim talked about you coming for drinks with us. I’ll text you the details, okay?” Eddie said, accepting the phone back with the now filled-out contact card.

“Uh, yeah, that would be great. Who’s Hen?” He asked.

Eddie looks up from his phone to grin at him. “Hen is great, you’ll love her. Listen, I have to go before Cap notices I’m skipping out on my chores, so I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course. Thanks again for the save, man.”

Evan’s phone buzzes in his pocket with a new text as Eddie leaves the kitchen, hearing the hallway door leading to the bay slam shut as he pulls out his phone to check it.

From: unknown number
Hey, this is Eddie! I’ll talk with Hen and Chim and let you know about drinks.

Wow, actually making friends? This is so weird. Evan can’t remember the last time he made honest-to-god actual friends. Well, there’s Taylor, but other than her it’s just been coworkers that he never saw outside of work. After a brief hesitation, he saved Eddie’s number into his phone with a smile.

Evan got two more van loads done, finishing up with the second one now. These loads were both the fine china dishware, which were kept in old milk crates. He had stacks full of them, very heavy and requiring very careful driving. These were expensive to replace and if one got even a chip in it then it couldn’t be used on jobs and got counted as shiny trash. He especially needs these at the new kitchen today because he knows there’s a job scheduled for tomorrow evening using these, so he needs them to be here, washed up, sorted, and ready to go out. 

He’s ready to crawl into bed and never come out, but unfortunately he has obligations to finish. He dumps the dishes in the storage area past the walk-in and freezer, stacking some along the walls as well, and now he was absently checking over three job tote-bins. These bins hold the essentials for jobs and have backups of items, including lighters, sternos for chafers, extra plastic plates and toothpicks, and other basic things as well. He was checking that they all had the same items and rewrapping their serving spoons and tongs with plastic wrap, trying to take a breather after the last few hours of hard work. Who knew moving an entire kitchen, freezer, and walk-in single handedly would be this hard?

“Hey there! You must be Buckle.” A woman’s voice called out, startling him into almost dropping his clipboard. “We haven’t met yet, I’m Hen.” A woman with fashionable glasses stood in front of him, staring at him curiously but not unfriendly. Another firefighter, judging by her uniform that matched both Chimney and Eddie’s.

Hugging his clipboard against his chest, Evan clears his throat nervously. “Uh, hi! It’s nice to meet you.” He didn’t think asking where on god’s green earth she just appeared from was appropriate, so he kept that to himself, instead giving a quick look around to see where she came from.

“The side door.” She says, startling him further. “The one that connects our bay to your hallway?”

“Oh. Right.” He lets out a small laugh, removing a hand from the clipboard to run through his hair under his baseball hat. “Sorry, was I that obvious?”

She looks amused rather than offended, which is good. “Don’t worry about it. So, it looks like you’re moving in well, already getting your equipment set up?”

He feels a flare of anxiety. Oh no, was he setting up too fast? Is it too presumptuous? No, his company is renting this kitchen, it’s what he’s supposed to do. Oh no, did he get them kicked out because of the mess he made of the asphalt? Did he dirty the parking lot too much to be hosed off? Maybe if he scrubbed it clean, then-

Hen snaps her fingers in front of his face, her eyebrows raised. “You good?” She asks him bluntly, scanning his face.

“I, um, ye-yeah, totally, I’m good. I’m chill. I’m frosty. Is that a thing, to be frosty?” He says quickly, self aware enough to know that he looked crazy but not self actualized enough to do something about it.

“No, I don’t think so.” Hen says slowly, looking more confused now. A bit concerned too, her gaze focusing on the bags under his eyes. “Buckle, when's the last time you slept?”

“Uh?” Evan stops, staring at her in surprise. “Uh. What day is it?”

Her expression deepens. “I want to believe you're joking but… it's Wednesday.”

Evan laughs, genuinely startled. Somehow he knows she wouldn't mess with him about this, or maybe he's just too trusting, but hearing that it's already Wednesday… “Oh no,” he said, “I am way too tired to do math. Once I get the van unloaded again I'm just gonna take a quick nap. It'll be fine.”

Hen looked like she wanted to argue it but stopped herself. Instead, she was just looking at him in deepening concern. “Is that a bruise?” She asks. At his confused look, she elaborated by gesturing on her own face to mirror his, pointing out the pink markings over his left eye.

Genuinely caught off guard, he laughs as he unconsciously brings his hand up to touch the mark. “Oh, uh no, that's a birthmark.”

She nods, looking contrite. “Sorry, part of the job is checking for injuries. Hard to turn it off sometimes.”

“Hey, part of my job is getting injured, so that works for me.” He says back, earning a loud laugh.

"If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re all family here, and that includes you now." Hen tells him genuinely, offering him a warm smile.

Evan manages to smile back, something about her helping to ease some of his anxiety. “Thanks, Hen. I really appreciate that.” He says quietly. He sets his clipboard on the counter, all of his organization and tasks facing up, and sees the curious look Hen gives it.

“Is that a layout of the kitchen?” Hen asks in surprise. His hand drawn kitchen layout is on the page flipped up, a scale accurate version of the kitchen with appliances, equipment, and storage ideas scrawled on. 

“Yeah,” he says, giving a small shrug. “I need to try and organize the space in here, for the best flow, you know? It’s easier to see it on paper first.” 

Hen nods along, looking around the kitchen a bit curiously. “I see that you’ve already moved some things around, like that double oven is in a different spot. When did you have help with that?”

Evan tilts his head to the side and follows her gaze. “What do you mean…?”

“That’s pretty heavy, you didn’t move that alone did you? I didn’t see any other caterers show up to help. I know Eddie helped, but he just did the what, auto-mans?” She asks, starting out joking but then quickly turning to stare at him in alarm. “You moved this all alone?” She demands, eyes wide behind her glasses. “You could have gotten hurt!”

“I’m next door to a fire house, there’s no better place to get hurt than here.” He jokes.

She gives him a sharp look before softening at his wide eyed expression. “Buck, you have to be careful. I’ve seen a good amount of people on calls who moved heavy things without help, it can end badly. It could have landed on you and crushed you, or broken a bone, or any number of things. Just, be careful, and come ask one of us for help when you need it. We’re right next door.” She lectures him, although not meanly. It felt more like when he was a kid and Maddie would lecture him about doing a new trick on his skateboard.

He nods along, about to respond with maybe an apology when his phone starts ringing, and pulling it out he sees it isn’t a number he recognizes. Most likely a client calling with an order, so he answers it quickly. “Hi, thanks for calling De-Lighted Fine Catering, how can I help you?”

It was indeed a client, asking about ordering a chocolate cake. He got their order details, a date, and gave them the new address for pickup after some fumbling through papers. Hen was gone when he looked up, so he stepped back outside, keeping his clipboard in hand and writing down the client details. By the time the order was in for a chocolate sheet cake with peanut butter and chocolate icing for next week, over twenty minutes had passed. He sighs heavily, even more exhausted now, and begins digging through his pockets for a cigarette.

“You must be Buck.” A new voice calls out, and Evan jumps, whirling around to see an older man approaching him with a hand out. “I’m Captain Nash, but you can call me Bobby.”

Evan moves quickly, switching his cigarette to his left hand so he can shake the Captain’s hand with his right. “Uh, Captain Nash! Hi! It’s great to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Captain Nash’s smile seemed strained, and it dropped entirely along with his gaze to the parking lot where the awful no good mess has only grown over the course of the day. He had the disappointed dad face down pat. “And what can I call this?” He asks, not sharply but not exactly nicely.

Oh god. How could he have forgotten the mess? It seems like it’s only gotten bigger and chunkier throughout the day. Is that a bone in it? Has it been eating?

“Um. That’s, um, about to get cleaned up.” Evan says quickly, feeling like he was about to get yelled at. Oh god, they really weren’t kidding when they said Captain Nash hates messes, were they? “I’m going to hose it down and sweep it and scrub it if I have to, don’t worry, I’ll have it looking good as new. Or, not as new, but less gross for sure. Definitely. Yeah.”

Captain Nash looks like he was fighting back a smile, or trying to hide a fresh wave of annoyance. Oh god he already hates Evan. Maybe the others told him about Evan and they really hated him and he had no new friends? Oh no. “This,” Captain Nash spoke, interrupting the spiraling thoughts, “isn’t going to become a habit, is it?”

Evan flinches. “Um, sir?”

“If you can’t even keep the parking lot clean, then maybe this arrangement won’t work out.” Captain Nash said calmly, too calmly, oh god is Evan getting them evicted already?

“Sir, I’ll keep it clean, I promise. This-this is just a one time thing. I pinky promise, I’ll do better, please don’t kick me out.” Evan pleaded with wide eyes, quickly holding up the pinky on his right hand as an oath. “I’ll do better.”

Captain Nash looks startled, and a bit concerned. “I’m just messing with you, Buck.” He said, giving the younger man a soft smile. “It’s just a parking lot, and we’re a fire house. Any messes can just be hosed down.”

“Oh, thank god.” Evan gasps out, breaking out in a hesitant smile. “Uh, thank you, Captain Nash.”

“Call me Bobby.” He says, clapping him on the back. “Sorry for freaking you out. My wife says my humor can be a bit dry.” The man apologizes, reaching up to straighten Evan’s hat.

Evan opens his mouth, maybe to protest or to agree or to ask, but then the station alarm was going off and lights were flashing. Bobby gave him a parting squeeze of the shoulder, already moving quickly to the bay. “Nice to meet you, Buck. I can tell that we're going to be friends. We’ll talk more later?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Nice to meet you, Bobby.” He called out to the man’s retreating figure, unsure if he even heard him. His skin feels tingly and warm where Bobby’s hand was, and he ghosts his fingers above the brim of his hat while he watches as the 118 truck and bus go flying out of the bay, lights flashing and a cacophony of noise.

Evan, now apparently Buckle, watches them go from where he was standing in the same spot. The sirens going into the distance felt like they were taking something with them, that part of him that was staying bright eyed and energetic. Now he just feels drained. Cigarette in his mouth, a stale Marlboro red he found in between the cushions in the driver's seat of the van, and a sinking feeling in his chest, he stares at the van. It still has to be unloaded, then he had to figure out how to get to his Jeep at the old kitchen, and then try to get some sleep before tomorrow. He runs a sweaty hand through his hair, dislodging his hat yet again. The sun is starting to set now, the temperature dropping, and he feels like crying.

In his pocket his phone buzzes. It’s a new text from Carynne.

From: Carynne
Don’t frgt we need the old kitchen cleared out by TOMRRW

It takes effort not to break his phone at that. Even more effort not to send back a nasty text. Yeah, no shit Carynne. What does she think he’s been doing all day? In fact, what has she been doing all day that she couldn’t even help pack up the old kitchen? His phone buzzes again with another new text.

From: Carynne
noon is our deadline. I’m trusting you to do this, Buckley.

He inexplicably feels like crying. Instead, he gets back to work. He gets the van unloaded, the final load from the old kitchen, and he gets everything put away as much as he can right now. Some items make it to shelves, some make it to tables, and he keeps track of everything on his clipboard as he goes. Marks off what items made it and what things broke in transit and need replacing. The new kitchen set up is nice but the layout is not permanent, he has a lot of changes to make before it’s perfect, but he can see it as being home. It’s small but cozy, and after getting his things set up in there, it feels nice. There’s a lot more that needs done, but for now it’s good. The old kitchen is cleared out, just a few boxes he’ll load into his Jeep tonight to bring over tomorrow, and then it’s a fresh start.

Walking outside, the heavy wooden keychain to the van swinging in hand, Evan pulls the door shut behind him and locks it. The cat in a chef hat keychain gets added onto his personal keychain beside his Jeep key and his house key. The sunset is a gorgeous purple, illuminating everything in a surreal lighting, and he tilts his head back and smiles softly to himself. A promise.

“This is going to be a good change.”

Chapter Text

“Where is the chili powder?!” Buck yells in frustration, a large container of paprika clutched in one hand as he searches the spice shelf with increasing desperation with the other. “There’s no way I forgot the chili powder. Absolutely no way. It should be right… here.” He stares in increasing frustration at the shelf which refuses to reveal the spice he needs, taping his fingers against the shelf. “The paprika won’t taste the same. It’s not enough for this.” He says to himself. Does he make a grocery store trip for one seasoning? No, that’s a waste of time, he’ll just have to make due with the paprika. It’s basically the same thing, they’re both from red peppers and share a similar flavor profile, so it’ll work. It’ll have to work.

Today is De-Lighted Fine Catering’s first job out of the new kitchen and Evan is already stressed. His first official day in the new kitchen is, in a word, different. In two words, very different. The new kitchen, while small, feels incredibly foreign and vast. Moving in yesterday was so exhausting that he lost track of where he put a lot of things, and might have lost some stuff in the shuffle, and he doesn’t have the time to look over his clipboard to verify. It’s just him working today so he doesn’t have the time to run to the store for a replacement, and he can’t ask the office staff who are working across town to go for him because, well, last time he asked Carynne to pick something up for him she lectured him for a good thirty minutes about the importance of time management.

Evan tosses the bottle of paprika on the table, plastic loudly meeting metal, as he moves to go back to stirring the scrambled eggs in the two large pans on the stove. Exactly two hundred and twenty six sausage links are in the oven, breakfast potatoes with peppers and onions are too, and he has the pastries all assembled on the metal serving trays and covered in plastic wrap. A quick check to the clock, there’s 37 minutes before he needs to start loading up the van, just over an hour before he has to leave to get to the office building where the breakfast catering is being held. It’s a drop off set up, where he goes, sets up the food and the tables and the drinks and anything else, leaves for a bit, and comes back at the event end time to clean everything up and bring it back to the kitchen.

This event is for 70 people and set to last four hours. Everything is counted and just about ready to go, he just needs to finish cooking and get the food and equipment loaded into the van. The eggs finally finished cooking, still a little wet but they’ll keep cooking in the pan and throughout the event, and Evan puts them into a hotel pan which he covers with a layer of foil and slaps a lid on top. These should stay hot like this until it’s time to go, he figures, and they'll be easy to keep hot on site.

“What's my ETA?” Evan asks himself, grabbing his clipboard off the metal table with a flourish. “I need to be on site by six, everything needs to be set up by six thirty, and the event starts at seven so they'll be coming in by six forty five, which means I have thirty to forty five minutes to set up this breakfast.” He takes a deep breath, making notes on his clipboard as he nods along to himself. “This will work, I've got this. Pickup time is… ten. Ew. That sausage is going to be rubber by then.” He scrunches his nose as he says it, disgust clear. He moves to the next page, reviewing the list of items he needs and marking them off quickly as he verifies what he has ready to go in the stack by the door. “Chafers, check. Sturnos, check. Tiny tongs, and big tongs, check…” He quickly gets the van loaded, a smaller load making it easy to load by himself, and makes sure everything is staked in the correct positioning so it won’t topple over when he whips a turn too fast. That gets finished just as the food is finished cooking, so he quickly transfers everything to cambros to stay hot and loads them into the van. He double checks everything, adding a second check mark beside each item on his clipboard, and then he deems everything good to go and plugs the location into his GPS.

The venue is at a doctor’s office across town, and when he arrives it’s to find that the room that the catering is in, room 128, is not easy to find.

“I don’t know, man,” the security officer at the front desk says apologetically, his salt and pepper mustache hiding his mouth, “are you sure it’s not room 123?”

“My contract says it’s room 128.” Evan tells him yet again, trying hard to keep his patience as he holds the clipboard out for the man to look at again. The security officer leans in to see, bringing a hand out as though to grab it, so Evan pulls it a bit closer to himself pointedly. No one touches the clipboard but him. “Can I look around and try to find it?” He asks, even though he just doubled back from looking around for the fabled room.

“No, no, that’s a security risk.” Security officer says, giving Evan a sharp look. “Can’t just have anyone wandering around the building, you know.”

“Yeah, but I’m the caterer.” Evan says, feeling more and more frustrated. “Like, man, I’m just trying to do my job, you know?”

The security officer puffs up, his chest sticking out like a peacock showing off, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “That would be violating my job, you know.” The man says mockingly.

Evan has to take a second to breathe and fight back what he really wants to say, which would be highly unprofessional. “You’ve seen my paperwork, you’ve seen me, what else do you need?” He demands a bit hysterically, gesturing to the fully stacked cart beside him. The large coffee pot balanced precariously on top wobbles. “You seriously can’t just not allow me to do the job I was hired for, man!”

“What’s going on here?” A woman’s voice cuts through before the security officer can respond, and a middle aged woman with a kind face appears. “Dave, are you harassing our caterer?”

“No, I’m stopping this kid from breaking in!” The security officer, apparently named Dave, says sharply.

“Breaking in?!” Evan yelps, bringing the clipboard back up. “Dude, I was hired by a Carla Price to be here, this is just-!” He cuts himself off, reign yourself in Evan, and tries again. “Sir, I am just trying to do my job.”

“Yes you are, and Dave is going to help you do it.” The woman says, drawing both of their attention back onto her, and she extends a hand. “I’m Carla Price and I’m so sorry about Dave, he can be a bit enthusiastic.”

Evan shakes her hand, feeling himself start to calm a bit, and tries to put on his professional face with a bright smile that falls flat. “Hi Carla, I’m Evan. I’m with De-Lighted Fine Catering. I’m supposed to be setting up in room 128?” Dave lets out a scoff at that and Evan winces, shoulders coming up a bit. God, this guy is the prime example of why he wants to just work in the kitchen full time and not have to do events.

“You stop that, Dave!” She says warningly to the man, who immediately gives a soft apology. “Room 128 is just this way hon, do you need help unloading?”

“No thank you ma'am, I’ve got it.” He says automatically, tucking his clipboard under his arm and pulling his fully loaded cart behind him to follow her through the hallways. Left, straight, straight, left, and right brought them to room 128, a large room with a projector aimed at one wall and three empty tables set up on the opposite side of the room. “Where do you want me to set up?” He asks, knowing how particular people can be about the smallest things and trying to get ahead of it.

“Anywhere you want, Evan.” She tells him, gesturing to the tables. “I had these brought in but you can move them to where you think is best. We’ll all be on that side of the room for the meeting, and then we’ll break for brunch.”

“What if I set up the coffee and drinks station here, and the food tables here against this wall?” He asked, gesturing with his hands to illustrate the layout. “Like, drinks separate, and then the two food tables together?”

“Whatever you think is best, I trust the professional with this.” Carla says with a soft laugh. “What do you need me to do, hon?”

“Oh, uh, nothing ma’am, thank you though!” He says as he quickly unloads the cart and begins to set up, watching out of the corner of his eyes as she watches him consideringly. “I know you’re busy, it’s okay, no worries. I’ve got this.” He has about 45 minutes to set up and he needs to hurry.

“Nonsense.” She says promptly, moving in and helping him unload the big black and yellow supply tote off the cart. “I’m not leaving you to do this by yourself, just tell me what you need Evan.”

He pauses to stare at her. She seems honest, which is surprising, because why would she be volunteering to help him with this? “Um, can you help me unload the cart when I bring in the next load?”

“I’ll do you one better and help you load it.” She says back, walking to the door and ignoring his immediate protest.

It takes two more trips to the van and back with a ready-to-topple cart, but he has everything in the room and the tables almost fully set up with Carla’s help in record time.

“Here, hon, let me do it.” She says, stepping in to help light the sternos underneath the chafers. The chafers are already filled with about an inch of water each, so the food won’t burn and instead will be kept comfortably warm.

“Thanks Carla. Can I ask, what do you do here?” He asks curiously, eyeing her scrubs which are a shade of blue he hasn’t seen in a while. He knows different colored scrubs can show different jobs, like how pink is associated heavily with labor and delivery and green for surgical techs, but isn’t sure if hers have a special meaning.

“I’m an APRN.” She says, and at his confused look elaborates. “Advanced Practice Registered Nurse. I’m one of the higher ranking nurses, which comes with a higher level of autonomy.”

“Oh, wow. That’s really cool.” He says, even though he doesn’t know what that actually means.

“I just do this to help out, I used to work here full time and they call me back in when they need me. Now I’m a full time HHA, a Health Home Aid.” She explains easily.

“That is really cool!” He says, eyes widening. “So you help out like, old people?”

She gives him an amused look as she hands him back the stick lighter. “I do, and anyone else who needs at-home health care. I was helping out a girl and her mother with late-stage alzheimer's disease, but the mother just passed.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. Is the daughter okay?” Evan asks, eyes wide. “Does she have any other family to stay with?”

Carla looks surprised, then laughs. It’s not a mean laugh, instead something soft, but Evan still feels his face burn in embarrassment. “Don’t worry, hon, she’s older than you. She’s talking about going on a trip to find herself now, but I don’t know what she’s going to do about her apartment.” She muses, and Evan feels hope rise and fall quickly. It’s LA, there’s absolutely no way he could afford a place by himself, he can barely even afford to stay in the frat house with five roommates, but it’s nice to imagine buying his own place and moving out.

“Do you have a business card?” Evan asks, mind already racing with ideas. He meets a lot of different people in his line of work and if she really does work as a home health aid, that would be a good contact to pass along to people. He thinks specifically back to his neighbor from childhood, an older man who struggled with living alone after his wife died, so Evan would go over after school and cook him dinner and tidy up the house. The man, Mr. George, would always protest and tell him he didn’t have to, but would never send Evan on his way. As they both got older Evan did more for him; laundry, all of the cleaning, grocery shopping with his allowance, and then finally to the yard work when Mr. George could no longer go out and do his favorite thing. Mr. George didn’t last long after that, maybe two weeks before Evan found him cold and gray in the black oak rocking chair in his office.

Carla looks like she wants to ask but holds back, giving him a concerned look as she rattles off her phone number, both of them adding each other into their contacts. The event time is nearing, people starting to filter in, so Evan grabs his cart and loads up his extra supplies onto it. The tables all look nice, and he readies his keys in his hand, turning to Carla with a smile. “Thanks so much for your help today, Carla.”

“You’re not done with me yet, I’ll be here to help you clean up.” She tells him with a laugh. “Go and I’ll see you at 10am.”

He gets the van loaded back up with the black cart and two totes, and sits in the driver’s seat for a long moment. The AC is still blowing hot air and the radio is playing a pop station, an older song by Noah Kahan playing over the speakers. Evan smiles to himself, dropping his head back against the headrest and turning up the volume. After the adrenaline of cooking all morning and setting up, this time coming down feels so nice. He’s been up since 3:30am, working since 4am, and he is so tired. He rolls down the windows, letting the breeze blow in and tousle his hair, and takes a slow breath. It comes out in a humming along to the song, “And I wonder why I tear myself down, to be built back up again.” He sings quietly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in beat to the song. “All that’s left of myself, holes in my false confidence…” He sits there like that until the song ends, and then he decides his next stop: Daily Dose Cafe.

The bell above the door chimes as Evan walks into the small coffee shop. The smell of freshly made coffee wafts through the air, a new batch of their seasonal blend with salted caramel and mocha having just been brewed. No one else is in there, not even a barista behind the counter. The display case is lined with pastries he knows were baked just that morning by Kaylah. Kaylah is the pastry chef here, a culinary student at a local community college, and a part time caterer for him. She's tried convincing him to let her bake for De-Lighted Fine Catering but he doesn't want to risk the supplies or time for something that's not really needed, especially when he can buy them pre-made for cheap. He eyes the huge cinnamon rolls in the case, humming lightly in delight. Plus, if these were made in his kitchen they would not be making it out, as the entire staff would be swarming these and have to be shooed away like flies on a hot day. He pulls out his phone and starts taking a picture of the display case to put on his Instagram, both hands on the phone to steady it as he tries to get the right angle. He zooms in, the light catching the glistening glaze on one of the rolls, and takes the picture.

Another chime of the bell comes from the door and Evan glances up from the display case to see who walked in. He immediately freezes, phone still in hand, as he stares. That is a beautiful man right there. Tall, broad shoulders, some dark stubble on his face, and looking down at his phone as he types something out.

“Uh, h-hey.” Evan greets quickly and without thought, his mind running on autopilot. Oh god why did he open his mouth and say anything? Is his mouth still open? Why is it suddenly so hot in here?

The beautiful man looks up from his phone and looks startled to see him. “Hi there.” He replies, his voice low and smooth, before slowly looking Evan up and down. His gaze lands on Evan's hair which is only partly covered by his baseball cap, the rest a tangled mess of curls, and Evan feels himself flush even hotter. “Do you work here?” The man asks him, before landing on the logo on Evan's shirt. “Or not.” He corrects himself, looking back up to Evan’s face.

“Not! Definitely not.” Evan blurts out. “Not that working here is bad, not at all. One of my employees works here, she's actually the pastry chef. Here, I mean. Not for me. She's a server for me. Um. Wait.” His flush deepens in mortification. The man has been watching him intently the entire time he was talking, not once looking ready to interrupt or stop him. Huh. “Kayla's the pastry chef.”

The man gives him a slanted smile, his eyes crinkling. Oh, he is gorgeous. “Alright, not-Kayla who definitely doesn't work at the coffee shop, what do you recommend?” He asks, tilting his head to the pastry display case when Evan just stares at him like a stunned fish.

“Oh!” He says. “What pastry?” He forces himself to look away from his stunning blue eyes to the pastry case, running every option through his head quickly. Cinnamon rolls are a good choice, but too basic. The bunny roll is cute but more of a bread than a dessert. Maybe the cake pop? No, those are way too sweet.

“Exactly. What pastry do you recommend for me?” The man asks him, looking at him with that slight smile growing.

“The spark note.” Evan says after a moment of consideration.

“And what is that? The spark note?” The man asks him, taking a step closer to stand beside him and peer into the case. Their shoulders are almost touching, if Evan leans just a little bit to the left they would be.

“This one here.” Evan says, tapping the glass in front of it. It's a square pastry made out of delicate layered puff pastry, with a honey butter glaze on top that was applied both before and after baking. The top is a shiny golden brown, the honey glaze coating making it sticky but allowing the coarse salt to cling to it. Inside of the pastry, pumped in through a leaking gap in the delicate layers, was a white whipped cream cheese filling, offering a hint more of savory paired with the sweetness. “It's sweet, but not too sweet, and offers a combination of flavors in a quick treat.” He explains brightly. “You don't look like the kind of guy that likes pure sugar, so I think you'll like this.” He looks up with a satisfied grin to find the man, who's bigger than him and actually a bit taller, looking at him almost softly.

“What about you?” The man asks with an amused lilt, though his voice remains fairly smooth. “Do you like sugar, or something more savory?”

Evan looks up, and oh! The gorgeous man is flirting with him! His knees feel weak and he can feel his face burning. “That depends,” he answers slowly, “are you sugary or sweet?” He tried for coy but instead he thinks he just sounds awkward and flat. Why is flirting so hard? He tries quickly to laugh off his own awkwardness. “For real though, I can never say no to a spark note, but the cinnamon rolls are usually my favorite. She does the same whipped cream frosting for them as the spark note.”

Before the man could say anything else the barista finally comes out. It's not Kayla, he knows her shift usually ends several hours before, and Evan gestures for the man to go up to the counter first. Maybe he can charm this guy with his good manners? Carly, the barista and one of his employees' daughters, gives him a scrutinizing look.

“I'll take a dirty chai, two spark notes, and whatever you're drinking?” He orders, finishing with an almost nervous look to Evan. Wait, he's ordering Evan a coffee? And a pastry? No way is the gorgeous man actually into him. No way is Evan actually this lucky.

“Um, can I get a cold brew coffee with almond milk and salted caramel?” He asks, shooting the man a look asking if he's sure. The man smiles, looking both relieved and pleased, paying for the treats and waving off Evan's sputtering protests.

Carly makes eye contact with Evan and mouths “oh my god”, and he nods emphatically in response with wide eyes. She nods back and quickly gets everything put together for them, pastries in two separate brown bags and starts making both drinks.

“You’re a firefighter?” Evan blurts, finally noticing the text on the chest of the front of the man’s t-shirt reading, in all caps and white text, Los Angeles Fire Department. The word Fire is the only one in red and is the dominant word on the shirt.

“I am.” He confirms, an eyebrow quirking. “Is that a problem?”

“The opposite, totally opposite of a problem. The panacea.” Evan says, and at the hot firefighter’s questioning expression, clarifies quickly. “The panacea is the remedy. It’s actually derived from Ancient Greek, which is interesting. At least, I think so. The Ancient Greek word for it is panakēs, which basically means "all-healing,” which comes from pan, meaning "all," and akos, meaning “remedy.” It’s actually a really cool linguistic rabbit hole, to see what language trees certain words come from and yet certain words became globalized and shared with so many cultures!” Here Evan pauses to breathe, and to come to terms with the fact he just ranted about linguistics to a hot firefighter in a coffee shop who is looking at him almost entranced. The guy doesn’t look bored at all so either he’s actually interested in Evan talking about this or he has his customer service face down pat.

“How does a cute guy like you know so much about Ancient Greek?” He asks, looking fascinated. In the background Carly is rolling her eyes hard enough to hurt. “Are you studying this in college?”

Evan lets out a surprised laugh. “Uh, no, no I’m a cook who listens to a lot of weird podcasts.” Internally he’s screaming, because oh my god the hot firefighter just called him cute? Hot firefighter thinks he’s cute! Hot firefighter bought him a coffee and a pastry!

“Oh, you’re with the catering company?” Mr. Hot Firefighter asks him, looking mildly surprised.
“The one with the van out front?” Indeed, out front is his catering van that Evan parallel parked all by himself. The trick of it is to not care about being in the lines, or about the people watching, or the ever looming threat of getting yelled at for his parking abilities in the van. He learned how to park this van by trial of fire, and by getting yelled at until he cried by a weird old guy, and by god was he going to put this to use in the name of coffee and sweet treats.

“We flame to please you.” Evan responds automatically, watching in slight horror as the hot firefighter’s eyebrows both jump up in amusement. “Th-that’s our motto! We’re De-Lighted Fine Catering, we flame to please you, it’s all a pun.” He says quickly, feeling his face turning red from embarrassment.

“So, do you flame to please me? Or do you just say that to all the guys you meet in coffee shops?” The hot firefighter asks, his tone dry but that teasing smirk back on his face.

“Do you buy all the caterers you meet sweet treats, or am I just special?” Evan fires back, grinning at his surprised look.

“You're definitely special.” Hot firefighter tells him, his voice low and sending butterflies straight to Evan's stomach. Carly finally finishes their drinks, setting them on the counter and clearing her throat to get their attention. The firefighter picks them both up, pressing Evan’s drink into his hand and their fingers touching. “I gotta run or I'll be late to work, but I'll see you around?” He asks, taking a step back to the door but not turning away from Evan, still giving the caterer his full attention.

“Yeah, I'm here a lot. Like, all the time. Not actually, but. Uh.” Evan cuts himself off and meets the man's eyes. “Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Firefighter.”

Mr. Hot Firefighter smiles back at him with his pearly teeth showing, his eyes crinkling again. “Thanks for the recommendation, Mr. Caterer.”

As suddenly as he appeared, he’s gone, the door jingling continuing after he left. Evan can’t help but watch him go, noticing the name on the back of the shirt far too late to actually read it. Something with a K. He thinks that might be his favorite letter now, mouthing it to himself slowly. K. K the hot firefighter.

The barista, Carly, looks mildly judgemental. “You should've gotten his number.” She tells him. “What's his name?”

Evan clutches to the coffee cup in his right hand and his spark note in his left, staring wide eyed at the door. “Um. I don't know.”

Carly groans, starting to tidy up her work station. “You're hopeless, man.” She says. “You might want to fix your hair, by the way.”

Evan whirls away from the door, fixing her with his wide eyed look. “What? What's wrong with my hair?” He demands, voice going high.

Carly, who's another one of his part time employees and is the daughter of his bartender and job manager Carlos and therefore is much too comfortable around him, points to a non descriptive spot in her own hair. “It's all, like. Here. Ish.” She says, before pulling out her camera and putting it on selfie mode and holding it up to face him. “Not to be rude, but when's the last time you washed it?”

“What?!” In his hair that’s hanging out from his baseball cap is a large piece of breakfast pastry from the job he just set up at the hospital, and jam and powdered sugar are smeared on his face. He can safely say he's never felt this mortified in his entire life. He flails, forgets that he's holding a sweet treat in his hand and accidentally throws it. The spark note that the hot firefighter bought him, likely out of pity and not flirting oh my god, goes flying across the room in a dramatic arc to smack directly into Carly's face. Her glasses plonk onto the counter along with the treat, now embedded into each other. “Why didn't you tell me!” He doesn't think his voice has been this high since before puberty. “Oh my god I thought we were flirting!” He groans loudly.

“You were.” Carly confirms. “He was seriously into you, even with. You know.” She gestures to his arm now and he twists to look. The backside of his arm is coated in smushed scrambled eggs. He stares in honest horror.

“He's going to think I'm fat and dirty.” He says mournfully, taking a mournful drink of his sugary coffee.

“Speaking from experience, some guys are into that.” Carly offers, making him choke on his coffee. She finishes wiping off her glasses and seats then back on her face to stare at him dryly through the smudges of honey glaze. “You're about to get a parking ticket.”

Evan swears and books it, coffee in hand and all over his shirt now.

He makes it back to the job in time for the pick up, Carla and the security guard helping him load everything into the van slowly. By the time he’s finally packed up and ready to go he’s realizes he’s going to be over on time allotted for the job, so he speeds back to the kitchen. This is the speed he normally goes in the van, which is way over the speed limit, but usually officers let him go without even flashing their lights because they see the catering decal on the van and figure that he’s rushing to a job. Unfortunately, the cop he passes today doesn’t seem to share that sentiment and almost aggressively pulls him over.

“You wanna tell me why, exactly, you were going 57 in a 30 miles per hour zone?” The intimidating police officer asks him sharply, her aviator sunglasses making her look all the more menacing as she stands beside his driver’s side window. Do she and Chimney buy the same brand, he wonders, because they honestly look identical. Are there different ways for aviators to look or are they all the same?

“Um, ma’am-” He starts quickly.

“Sergeant.” She corrects sharply.

“-Sergeant, of course, my bad, I’m so sorry.” He says, unable to keep his voice as genuine as he was aiming for. He pulls his ball cap off his head and throws it onto the dashboard, leaving one hand on the steering wheel and the other tangling in his hair to mess up his curls even further. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, letting it out in a slow exhale. Try again, Evan, be polite to the scary police sergeant. “I’ll be honest, Sergeant, I’m running behind on my jobs today and ended up rushing and not properly watching my speed.” He's aiming for sympathetic and falls dramatically flat, judging by her intensifying frown behind her shiny aviators.

“Do you know how reckless you were being?” Sergeant Grant demands. Her hand lands on her hip next to her holstered gun and a sharp flare of fear runs through him. Oh no, he thinks wildly, his wide eyes focusing purely on her hand and the proximity of it to her gun, he's made the police sergeant mad and now she's going to shoot him, and he doesn't even have anyone who will put together the money to pay for a funeral let alone to make him look pretty for it. He’s going to end up as a cremated body put into a city-owned basement on a shelf with other forgotten urns and never get a proper funeral and his sister will never know what happened to him. “Do you know how many lives you put in danger today because you were running late? You’re going to be very late now, Mr. Buckley, let me assure you of that.” She storms back to her police vehicle with his license and registration in hand, along with all of the proof of insurance papers he had stashed in the glove box.

He groans, eyeing his phone in trepidation. Carynne is going to have his head for this, not only will the ticket be expensive but it’ll raise their insurance rates through the roof. “I’m too scared to Google how much this ticket will cost me.” He admits to the empty van. He looks back in the cargo area, eyeing the pastries left over from this morning. “Is offering a police Sergeant a muffin considered bribery?” He opens the door and pushes it into the back area, reaching back blindly until he finds the muffins and pastries and pulls the box up to the front. He digs through it and picks out a blueberry muffin with a crumble topping consisting of a brown sugar and flour mixture. Delicately he bags it, and then he delicately sets it on the dash. Now it's time to wait.

He looks anxiously into the side mirror and watches her severe expression as she sits in her vehicle and tries to sit still. He settles for tapping his fingers on his door, his other hand landing back in his hair and pulling roughly. “I'm so screwed.”

Sergeant Grant appears back at his window, strutting up with no hesitation with a stack of papers in her hands. She leans back in his window, staring at him critically. “It'd be easy to let you off with a warning,” she says without preamble, “a slap on the wrist and you swear up and down that you'll never do it again.”

“I won't!” He agrees quickly.

She gives a disapproving hum. Wrong answer, Evan. “The thing is, Buckley, I spoke to some of my officers who pulled you over before, and apparently that's a promise that you make lightly.” Oh, shitake mushrooms, he is royally screwed. “You were going 27 miles per hour over the posted speed limit. Do you know how much that costs?” She’s actually asking him, lecturing him like a frustrated parent, and he feels suddenly like he might throw up.

“Um, no, Sergeant I don’t. I’m sorry.” He says quickly, his stomach twisting like his hands. He’s using his thumb to dig at the skin around his nails.

“The ticket base fee is $100.” Oh god. “That’s before the additional taxes and fees are tacked on.” Oh no. “With those charges, it’s $490.” He might actually throw up. His jaw is slack, and quickly he closes it, swallowing thickly. He doesn’t have $490 for a ticket. Fuck, he doesn’t even have $490 in general. “Do you understand how severe this is, Buckley?”

“Yes, Sergeant, I’m-I’m so sorry. I’ll be more careful next time, I swear.” Evan says desperately, trying to regulate his breathing now. In for five, out for ten.

“I’m sure you will. That’s why I knocked it down for you.” She says, and presents him with a brand new shiny ticket in the form of a thick stack of paper with a brightly colored paper tacked on top. “This is for going 25 over the posted speed limit, which has a base of $70, and with the fees is $367.” She tells him, actually looking a bit alarmed at his immediate reaction, which is to gag and quickly press the back of his hand against his mouth. They both pause.

“Sorry.” He says hoarsely. “Thank you so much for knocking it down for me. I greatly appreciate it, Sergeant.” He continues, really not feeling appreciative at all as he stares at the ticket. “Um, how do I pay this? And when is it, like, um, due by?”

“You need to appear in court in 90 days from today’s date to either pay the fine or to contest, it’s printed there on your ticket and I will need your signature confirming that you acknowledge it. I would advise you to not miss this court date, as that will get another $300 added onto your fees as a civil assessment.” She tells him sharply, no sympathy to be found.

“Oh my god.” Evan says blankly.

“You can get a traffic lawyer involved, or you can represent yourself. I don’t think that would be the best choice for you, Mr. Buckley.” Ouch, but true.

“So the court is mandatory?” He asks weakly, pulling up the date on his phone calendar with shaking hands and staring at the jobs already punched in for that day. The court date falls on a day that De-Lighted Fine Catering already has a possible event booked, a company event that was on that day the previous year and they had said that they wanted to do it again the same day. Maybe they changed their minds since he spoke to them? They’d have to, no one else can cook in the kitchen, and he’s not going to be able to be working the morning of his court date. Oh god, he needs a cigarette.

“It is mandatory.” She confirms. “Do you have any questions for me, Mr. Buckley?”

He stares at his shaking hands, one holding the stack of papers with the colored ticket on top, and the other his phone. “Do you want a muffin?”

He arrives back at the kitchen with the stack of papers added onto his clipboard, an updated calendar, and one less blueberry muffin.

Cleanup from the job goes on autopilot: unload the van, park the van, pack up leftovers to take home, pack up other leftovers to stash in the walk-in fridge so his roommates won’t take them, trash everything he doesn’t want, starts breaking things down and running them through the dish machine, and puts away everything that’s clean or extra. It goes fast, and soon he’s just waiting on his last load of dishes and absently doodling a budget on a sticky note. Rent takes priority, so does gas, maybe he could slash his food budget? It’s already low but if he continuously cuts it until the court date then he should have enough to pay the ticket and fees.

He tries to run a hand through his hair and immediately meets tangles and bits of food, which reminds him of what he currently looks like, which leads him to grab the sprayer from dish pit and spray himself in the face at full blast. It stings, but also feels very cleansing, so he keeps spraying it at his face, then his hair to try and get the pieces out. When he encounters a stubborn sticky spot he grabs a squirt of blue Dawn dishsoap and begins washing his hair in the sink. The sound of things landing in the sink is loud, but the call of being clean is louder, so he turns the sprayer on the rest of his body without bothering to remove his shirt and just soaks through it. By the end of it he’s standing in a verifiable puddle, and while he can happily say he’s no longer gross and sad he is now wet and sad. He has soapy water dripping into his eyes from his limp curls and turns the sprayer onto his face again, sputtering in the sudden burst of water going up his nose.

His phone rings loudly, cutting him off from his impromptu dish pit shower. He steps out of the puddle, realizing belatedly that he never took off his shoes, and he is leaving a trail of water behind him.

Incoming call from: Carynne.

With a low groan, he answers. “Hey, Carynne.”

“Don’t you ‘hey’ me!” Carynne immediately snaps. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Oh, shit, did she hear about the ticket already? “Um, it’s really not that bad-”

“You almost lost us a client today, Evan! A very high paying client! What the hell were you thinking?” She’s almost yelling now, continuing before he can even think of a response. “I got a call from Mrs. Price today complaining about how much work I was making you do. What the hell were you telling her, Buckley?”

Evan stares at the wall ahead of him in numb shock. “Wait, wait, Carynne what did she complain about? I-I thought that she liked me?”

“She does, apparently enough to call me and bitch me out about how I was overworking you!” Carynne yelled, making Evan pull the phone away from his ear to stare at it in shock. “Apparently, according to your new little friend, it was unethical of me to have you working it, but she refuses to have anyone else work her company’s events. It’s a drop off-set up for god’s sake, that’s not a multiple employee job!”

“I-I mean, I could have used a helper for this one.” He offers, a bit hesitant to say it. “This venue had so much walking between the van and the event room, having a second would have been a big help.”

She lets out a loud exhale over the phone, the speaker crackling from the burst of air. Evan hesitantly taps his fingers against the table and stops when he realizes he’s still dripping wet. The once hot water has cooled on his skin, and now he just feels uncomfortable and damp.

“Next time, take someone with you.” Carynne says finally, still sounding displeased but not yelling anymore. “Anything else I need to know about?”

He pauses, staring at his clipboard on the other table, the ticket staring at him tauntingly. He swallows dryly. “Um, yeah, you should probably know that the van insurance is probably going up a bit.”

She swears loudly. “Did you get a ticket?”

“Yeah, but-but don’t worry, I’ll pay for it. I just, the officer, uh, sergeant, is having me go to court for it, so we can’t have any events on that day. Because I won’t be here to cook for them. I’ll be at court.”

“You got pulled over by a police sergeant?” Carynne actually sounds impressed at this. “Damn, Buckley, you don’t do anything by halves do you?”

“I guess not.” He says, a small laugh of relief coming through. Oh, thank god, she’s not actually going to kill him.

“We’ll talk about it closer to the court date, just remind me, alright? And Buckley?”

“Yeah, Carynne?”

“Don’t fuck up anymore, alright?” With those delightful parting words she hung up on him.

Evan felt flabbergasted. His flabber was so very gasted. He stares at his phone, at the CALL ENDED screen fading to black, and sighed. “At least she’s not mad about the ticket?” He says, reaching up to scrub a hand through his hair, finding the damp curls and sighing in relief. No more gross gunk. At least now he can go home and take a real shower. With this in mind he finishes closing down the kitchen and cleaning everything up, using the floor squeegee to push the puddle into a floor drain.

By the time he makes it back to his frat home it looks like a party is in full swing. The road is lined with cars, the front yard has a few people staggering around, and the front door is wide open. He has to park his Jeep in the grass, and groans. Luckily he kept his leftovers at work, all he brought here is a slightly stale banana nut muffin in his backpack. His hair is still dripping and he’s still uncomfortably damp. He wants nothing more than to lay down in his dark room and have a peaceful sleep. Staring at the bright lights emitting from the house and able to feel the bass line in his car, he knows that won’t happen. He has two choices; go into his frat home and barricade himself in his room and try to sleep, or park his Jeep at the Walmart beside South Gate Park and try to sleep there.

“I’ll try here first.” Evan says after a moment of thought, turning off his ignition. “At least I can get changed first.”

He steps onto the grass and immediately has to dodge a pile of vomit. One of the guys in the front yard waves at him, and he waves back. Is that Dave? Or Bill? Maybe Cody, who appears higher the closer Evan gets, and is surrounded by a halo of empty Coors cans.

“Ethan!” Cody calls out, still waving. “Come join the party, man!”

“Sorry, man, I gotta work.” Evan calls back, lying through his teeth. Back when he first got to Los Angeles he loved this lifestyle, the constant parties and the drinking until you blackout or pass out, but now it just churns his stomach.

Cody boos him, throwing a half-full can that Evan has to dodge. It hits the doorway and spills, and Evan just ducks around it, beelining for the stairs and trying not to stare at the people doing lines in the kitchen. The living room isn’t any better, with the collective lack of clothes and personal space. God, he needs his own place.

His bedroom door is thankfully shut with his ‘DO NOT ENTER’ note still taped on. He opens it slowly, still hesitant, and is relieved to find it empty and the same as he left it. He shuts and locks the door behind himself and quickly gets changed, the pounding of the music like a nail straight into his brain. His new outfit is an oversized hoodie over a sweatshirt, a pair of baggy torn up jeans that were once nice skinny jeans, and a pair of comfy sneakers that weren’t soaked through. He grabs a bag to throw his wet shoes into, then grabs a pair of fresh work clothes for tomorrow. Several pairs of socks, black jeans, a black De-Lighted Fine Catering t-shirt, and his trusty blue baseball hat. There’s already toiletries kept in his car, along with a pillow and blankets, so he’s good. All of his valuables are kept in the Jeep so nothing here is really at risk other than his thrifted closet. After stuffing his clothes into his backpack, he ducks into the bathroom and grabs some ibuprofen from the bottle and swallows them dry before refilling his water bottle from the sink.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, cap on his head, and water bottle and wet-shoe-bag in hand, he goes back down the stairs, the scene the same as he left it, and ignores what might have been a call of his name to step around the beer puddle back outside.

“Ethan!” Cody calls again, enthusiastically waving. “When did you get here, man? Have a drink!”

Evan tries to smile at him, sure it looks like more of a grimace. “Uh, hey, man! Sorry, I have to work.”

“Have a drink before you go! Or take one for the road!” Cody insists, sitting up slowly and scattering some empties.

“Uh, do you have any smokes?” Evan asks, pausing in his steps, and Cody whips one out and holds it up like a trophy.

“Ah-ah-ah, first you need to have a Coors!” Cody declares, holding up a warm beer with his other hand.

“I’ll have a drink of yours,” Evan deflects, “I don’t want to waste your full one, man.”

“Good point!” Cody says, laughing, and passes the beer for Evan to open. That’s a good thing about Cody, he lets people open their own drinks. Evan opens it, pretends to take a long drink, and passes it back to Cody. “Nothing like a Coors!” Cody cheers, handing him the cig. “Do you need a light? I think Connor has my lighter?”

“I’ve got a light in the Jeep, thanks though.” He says, turning on his heel with a small wavel and fast walking to his Jeep. He quickly unlocks his Jeep and climbs in, slamming it behind him and putting the key in the ignition. His backpack lands on the passenger seat, his wet-shoe-bag following with a thump. He puts his water bottle in the cupholder and the cig between his teeth. He’s not going to smoke in his car, especially when he’ll be sleeping in it tonight, but just having it in his mouth is calming him down.

“I guess I’m sleeping in the Walmart parking lot again.” He sighs. A glance in the backseat shows his car pillows and blankets still there, nicely folded on the seat, and he sighs again. “My back is going to hurt so much.”

With a final wave to Cody, who is enthusiastically waving at him again, Evan throws the Jeep in reverse and backs out of the grass. The drive to the Walmart is peaceful, the darkening sky bringing a sense of serenity, and he throws the Jeep in park. A look at the time shows it’s not even 8 yet, and he groans into his steering wheel. This is about to be the most boring evening ever. Unless, he realizes suddenly, he just goes back to work. Why not? It’s better than sleeping in his car again. This new building is actually safe enough for him to spend the night, and he can see if Walmart has any cheap throw blankets or maybe even an air mattress on sale?

He throws his backpack in the backseat and covers it with blankets after grabbing his wallet, then he goes into Walmart. The temperature inside is chilly, and he finds himself wandering around the aisles for something to entertain him and kills a few hours. The air mattresses are all expensive, as expected, but the throw blankets are cheap and have fun designs. He has one covered in different cartoon dogs in his arms, very soft and fluffy, when a loud voice comes from behind him.

“Buck!” It’s firefighter Eddie, standing at the end of the aisle with a cart full of groceries.

Evan perks up immediately. “Eddie! Hey!” He quickly jogs over to meet him, smiling brightly at his new friend. “What’re you doing?”

“Getting stuff for a late dinner.” Eddie says, gesturing to his cart full of frozen pizza, frozen pizza pockets, frozen chicken nuggets, frozen burritos… Evan can see the theme here. “What about you? Do I wanna know why you’re blanket shopping at almost midnight?”

That startles a laugh out of him, and he hugs the dog blanket tighter. “Oh, uh, it’s pretty boring actually. Uh, you like juicy juice?” And that is actually a pertinent question, as Evan himself likes juice juice and Eddie doesn’t seem like the type.

“No,” Eddie snorts, “my kid does though.”

Evan perks up even more. “You have a kid? I love kids!”

“Well I love this one. His name’s Christopher, he’s about to turn eleven, and he is very opinionated about juice.”

“Is it brands or flavors?” Evan asks.

“Flavors, he hates anything grape flavored.” Eddie says with the long suffering of a parent to a picky eater. “I don’t get it, but he’s insistent.”

“Anything grape flavored is awful.” Evan agrees with Christopher’s opinion immediately. “Apples and apple flavors only. And orange, but only without pulp.”

Eddie looks amused. “Yeah, he’s going to love you.” He declares. “What are you doing for dinner?”

“Tonight?” Evan asks, startled.

“Well, considering you’re in Walmart right now, I’m guessing you’re not doing anything tonight.” Eddie says, completely correct.

Evan pauses. He’s never had a friend invite him over for dinner before, at least not since he was in elementary school and a playdate ran long. He looks at Eddie’s cart again and hums. “That depends, how opposed are you to some vegetables?”

“That depends on what you’re planning to cook up.” Eddie says with a laugh, sounding relieved? “My buddy Tommy’s supposed to come over too, if you’re cool with that?”

“Yeah, of course, man.” Evan says back immediately. Tommy? Is that another firefighter at the station? “Does he work with you?”

“Tommy? No, he used to, but he switched stations not too long ago. He still comes over for meals sometimes, though. Especially when it’s Bobby’s lasagna.”

“Bobby? He’s the captain of the 118, right?” Evan asks curiously, falling into step with him as they head for the produce section.

“Yeah, Bobby is the best captain we could ask for. He works us hard but he’s fair, and he cooks amazing meals. Like, they’re actually the best.” Eddie says as they enter the produce section. “Hey, you need to come over for a meal on our side of the wall sometime! It probably won’t be to your standards, Mr. Chef, but his food is really good and it’s like we’re a family.” He says, lightly nudging Evan’s side teasingly.

“He seems like a, uh, really nice guy. Funny.” Evan offers, hugging his cartoon dog blanket against his chest. “I’m not sure how much he likes me but, I don’t know, he seems cool to me.” He says, picking up a bell pepper to inspect it. “Do you have any food allergies?”

“Nope, go wild, follow your little chef's heart.” Eddie says with a laugh.

“Does Tommy?” He asks, the name feeling heavy in his mouth.

“Nope again.” Eddie says, and tosses a beefsteak tomato at him. “This would be good on the pizza, right?”

“Yeah, beefsteak holds up well while cooking, it’s not too watery and has a good flavor.” Evan rattles off, placing it gently in the cart next to a three pack of colorful bell peppers.

“Mushrooms?” Eddie asks, holding up a carton of the white pre-sliced, and Evan scrunches his nose automatically. “Not a fan?”

“Uh. Not particularly, no.” Evan admits. “What about green pepper?”

“You already got three peppers, now you want a fourth?” Eddie asks, looking at him incredulously.

“It’s sweeter than the others.” He defends himself, but then considers. “That is a lot of peppers, 0huh?” He sets it back on the shelf, looking back to his friend. His friend! He perks up again. “Do you like fruit on pizza?”

Eddie frowns at him from over a watermelon he’s examining. “We’re not putting watermelon on pizza, Buck.”

“But what if it tastes good?” He asks. “We’ll never know if we don’t try it!”

“It’s terrible.” Eddie deduces later in his living room, dropping his slice of pizza back onto the plate. “Watermelon should not be on pizza.”

“It’s just so wet?” Evan asks, still chewing his bite slowly. “Like, it made the pizza mushy. And wet. And somehow kinda gritty?”

They were at Eddie’s house experimenting with different pizza flavors as an action movie played in the background. Maybe a super hero one, there’s a lot of explosions and bright colors, Evan considers. The coffee table was a spread of fruit, condiments, and even chocolate as they tried something new on every bite. They’re both sitting on opposite ends of the couch, Evan wrapped up in his new cartoon dog blanket and Eddie surrounded by throw pillows.

“Man, it’s too bad Chris is at a sleepover tonight, he would love this.” Eddie says, putting some chocolate sauce onto his next bite and chewing. “Oh, hey! That’s what we should do!”

“What, do pizza flavor taste test again? I’m down. We can try it with different foods, like spaghetti, or popcorn!” Evan agrees readily. “Hey, where’s your friend Tommy, by the way? Wasn’t he coming over?”

“Tommy texted a bit ago, said he got called into work earlier and didn’t get to tell me sooner.” Eddie shrugs off. “We are definitely doing this again, but I meant we should have a sleepover.”

Evan pauses, because that is actually perfect, and it’s already two in the morning and he was getting sleepy. He’s also relieved that this mysterious Tommy isn’t coming. At least now he doesn’t have to share his new best friend with anyone or be the third wheel. Another explosion sounds on screen, and some buff blond dude has a shield? “What movie even is this?” He asks, settling back into the couch and making grabby hands for the chocolate sauce at Eddie’s disgusted face. “It should work, it’s like fondue.”

“It’s not fondue, unless fondue is terrible.” Eddie says. “Wait, you don’t know who Captain America is? Dude, where have you been? Have you seen the Avengers, or Thor?”

“No? Thor’s the guy with the hammer from Norse mythology, right?” Evan asks his new best friend. He has a best friend now!

“Let’s watch that one, you need the background. Chris says it’s important to watch them in order.” Eddie says excitedly reaching for the remote, before pausing to give Evan a questioning look. “Or something else, if that’d be more fun?”

Evan sees his hopeful look and grins, feeling happy in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He has a friend, he’s having a sleepover, they’re watching movies! Today has been an absolute rollercoaster, with so many new faces and new possibilities, like possibly losing his license for a speeding ticket, to flirting with the hot firefighter from the coffee shop. For the first time since he’s come to Los Angeles he feels somewhat settled, like he can actually build himself a life here. Like he can belong here. “Yeah man, just give me a pillow and I’m down.”

Eddie laughs and passes him one from the throw pillow pile before pulling up the first Thor movie on a streaming app.

Man, he’s glad that he washed himself off in the dish pit earlier. Imagine if he was still covered in food.

“Oh, hey, you have something in your hair…” Eddie says, and Evan groans. Of course he does.

Chapter Text

The sunlight burns through Evan’s eyelids at what feels like an ungodly hour. He immediately knows two things to be true. Firstly, that was the best sleep he’s had since he moved to Los Angeles. Secondly, Eddie Diaz has a good couch, but it isn’t great, because his back is absolutely screaming at him. He groans into something soft, and wet, and oh god did he drool on his pillow? He reaches up blindly to pat the throw pillow under his head, the bright orange one that reminds him of a pumpkin judging by the soft fabric, and there’s a wet spot under his face. He just drooled on his new best friend's throw pillow but honestly he can’t even feel guilty about it. Eddie’s voice filters in from the other room, the kitchen he thinks, talking to someone. The elusive Tommy, maybe?

“-no, he’s still sleeping. He looked exhausted, man, I don’t want to wake him up.” Eddie says into the phone, just barely heard above the sound of the fan. There’s the sound of dishes clattering and water running. Is he loading the dishwasher, maybe? “We watched some superhero movies, can you believe he hasn’t seen them?” There’s a pause, then a small laugh from Eddie. “No, any of them. We need to schedule the next movie night when you’re not on call so you can join, I think you’ll really like him.” Ah, so he is talking to the elusive Tommy. Evan tries not to feel jealous that his new best friend already has a best friend. “He’s really cool, and he had good ideas about pizza toppings.” Another pause followed by another laugh. “Yeah, I do know how weird that sounds. He’s really convincing, okay?”

Evan opens his eyes to stare up at the ceiling, trying not to feel anxious. He’s just had his first friend-sleepover since he was in middle school! He doesn’t think he lasted even half way through the Thor movie before falling asleep, hopefully Eddie didn’t have to clean up everything yet. He shoots a glance around the now significantly cleaner room and grimaces. Okay, so Eddie did clean up the worst of it. Now there’s a smattering of folded blankets, the remnants of the throw pillow pile, and empty pizza boxes and trash gathered in a pile on the coffee table. The TV is turned off so the only noise is the ceiling fan spinning slowly. Time to get up, Evan, stop being a lazy bones.

He pushes himself up with a quiet groan, letting the blanket fall into his lap and blinking a bit blearily around the room. Where’s the bathroom, he wonders, the house looking different with the early sunlight spilling through the windows. Eddie’s laughter comes through the kitchen again, and Evan hums. He needs to pee, throw water on his face, and brush his teeth, preferably in that order. Swinging his legs to the floor has his head spinning a bit, but he pushes himself up to grab the toothpaste and toothbrush from his backpack, and then pads down the hallway to the bathroom, noticing the family photos on the walls with a pang in his chest. Eddie is definitely a family man. He wonders what that’s like, to have a family that hangs photos on the wall. They all look like candids, moments of Eddie’s life, and he pauses to examine them. The frames are all mismatched, some of them crooked, but none of them are dusty. There are pictures of a young boy with crutches, Eddie’s son he assumes, varying in ages. Some of the pictures have other firefighters in them, Hen with a beautiful woman and a young boy in front of them, Chimney in another photo grinning at the camera with a dark haired woman beside him who’s facing away from the camera, another photograph with Bobby and… Sergeant Grant? What? Evan shakes himself and continues his trek to the bathroom, thoughts rolling like a storm in his head.

Jealousy definitely simmers, not just about Tommy but about Eddie’s life in general. He has friends, a family, and Evan is just. Here. Forcing himself into someone’s life like a leech yet again. There’s a chasm opening inside of him and throwing cold water on his face only does so much to distract himself. When his business is finished, he stumbles back into the living room to put away his toiletries and check his phone. 6:53am. What. How did he get four hours of sleep and feel better than any sleep he’s gotten from his frat home? He thumbs through to see no new texts or notifications other than Wikipedia alerting him to an interesting article about isopods. He doesn’t swipe it away, keeping it in his notifications bar to look at later.

He takes a deep breath, feeling unbearably anxious. The mysterious Tommy isn’t his competition, and Eddie seems convinced that they’ll hit it off when they meet, but he still feels a weight in his stomach thinking about it. This is someone that’s already active in Eddie’s life, in the 118’s lives according to their late night conversation, and Evan can’t help but feel like he’s intruding. He sits back down on the couch and pulls out his phone, checking his calendar to see what all he has to do today, and hears an echo of Tommy’s voice over the phone. He frowns. Huh. Why does that voice sound so familiar? Maybe he’s seen him at an event?

Eddie comes out before he can think about it too hard, putting his phone in his pocket and freezing when he sees Evan up.

“Buck, hey!” He greets, looking nervous. “Hey, sorry if I woke you up, man.”

“No, no, I always get up early.” Evan says quickly, putting his phone down. “This is actually sleeping in for me.” He admits with a laugh.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise. “What? You don’t have any kids, do you?” He asks.

“No, just live in a frat house and work crazy hours.” Evan laughs. “More than a few hours of sleep is rare for me. This was actually the most I’ve slept all month, man.”

Now Eddie looks concerned, checking the time on his phone. Oh, maybe he has to be somewhere soon? “Buck. You slept for not even five hours.”

“Yeah, it was great!” Evan agrees brightly.

The look of concern just deepens, which is weird. Evan shrugs it off though, standing up with a stretch. “Hey, let me make breakfast, as thanks for letting me crash on your couch.”

“You don’t have to do that, man, it was a sleepover.” Eddie says.

“I can make pancakes?”

Eddie pauses. “I mean, pancakes are a vital part of sleepovers.”

They both end up with the kitchen a mess, pancake batter on the counters and cabinets with things pulled out everywhere, but it doesn’t feel like a mess the way things in the catering kitchen do. This feels nice, actually, playfully arguing with Eddie about pancake toppings and the merits of sprinkles. By the time they’re done the kitchen looks like an actual disaster, but they both stand at the counter and eat their fluffy pancakes. Evan starts cleaning up as he’s chewing, reorganizing the cabinets absently as he puts things away, and then he’s wiping down the counters. Eddie makes a protest but Evan waves him off, working quickly and only pausing for another bite of pancake. By the time he’s done the kitchen looks sparkling and mostly-clean. By the time they’re done eating and cleaning, it’s past eight in the morning, and Evan wraps the remaining pancakes in plastic wrap with a sticky note containing reheating instructions slapped on top.

The sleepover has come to a gentle end, with Eddie needing to go pick up his son and Evan needing to go work on contracts and prep work. It may be his day off, a rarity for him, but it's not like he has anything else to do today and he doesn't feel like going back to his frat home until later.

“Next time we’ll have Christopher pick out the movies,” Evan says, shouldering his backpack and giving a lingering look around the house that’s now glowing in warm sunlight, “I have no idea what kids are watching these days. Is Disney still popular?”

That earns a laugh from Eddie, sounding relieved as he slaps a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Yeah, man, Disney is still popular.” He says as they both step outside, pulling the door shut and locking it behind them. “He’s been obsessed with Tangled lately, he’ll jump at the chance to watch it again.”

Evan hums, twirling his car keys around his fingers as they both walk down the driveway. The sun is low in the sky and everything is soft hues of gold and pink, and it may be the most beautiful sunrise Evan has seen in months. “I always liked Lilo and Stitch.” He confesses with a small smile.

Eddie looks at him thoughtfully, giving a slow nod. “It doesn’t have any singing, but I think he can be convinced.”

As he’s getting into his Jeep, starting it up and letting the hot air blow through the vents, he smiles to himself. He wonders, how did he get so lucky to make a friend like Eddie? He normally struggles with making friends, struggles with connecting to his coworkers even, but these past few weeks have been so many new people worming their way into his skin and cracking his exterior. He touches the top of his left arm thoughtfully, right below his tattoo, and hums. “It’s like they’re burrowing into my epidermis.” He perks up, poking at his arm. “Like mites! It’s like they’re giving me scabies, but like, friendship scabies.” Evan pauses, slowly frowning at himself. “I need coffee.”

After parking his Jeep on the busy street, Evan walks into Daily Dose Coffee, feeling somewhat more alive than normal after all the sleep he got last night. Carly is behind the counter and perks up at the sight of him.

“Evan, dad wants to know when you’re scheduling him again. He thinks you hate him.” She says, looking amused.

He groans, running a hand through his hair. “He knows I don’t hate him, there just haven’t been enough jobs the past few weeks, plus with the moving kitchens…” he trails off with a frustrated sigh, mentally looking over the upcoming schedule. “I have some jobs he might like, tell him I’ll text him in a few hours.”

Carly shrugs, pulling out her phone to do just that.

“Hey,” he drags out, looking over at the pastry case instead of her, “uh, has that guy come back in?”

She pauses, texting sounds stopping. “What guy?” She asks, sounding way too amused. She knows exactly what guy, she’s just messing with him honestly, but he makes a pained noise.

“Carly. You know the guy.”

“I don’t!” Kaylah suddenly appears from behind the display case, laughing at Evan’s shriek. “What guy, Ev?”

“Kaylah, what the hell.” He gasps, clutching a hand to his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack. Oh my god. Don’t do that!”

She grins, bumping shoulders with Carly. Kaylah is covered in flour and something sticky, and looks all too amused. “Carly, does Evan have a crush?”

Carly grins back at her. “He does, with a hot firefighter.”

Kaylah gasps. “With?” She repeats, whirling back to Evan. “Tell me everything! …including upcoming jobs.”

Evan groans, trying not to feel too amused at her. His employees are like vultures, he swears. “I’ll text you in a few hours with the schedule, okay?” He focuses back on Carly, giving her a pleading look. “Carly, has he come back in?”

Carly hums, glancing over at the door. “Yeah, he’s about to.”

Evan freezes. “What?”

The bell above the door jingles, and in steps the hot firefighter, who immediately zeros in on Evan, standing up straighter and grinning when he sees Evan standing in front of the pastry display case. Oh my god, Evan realizes abruptly, does he actually have a crush with the hot firefighter?

“Mr. Caterer, I was hoping to see you here again.” Hot firefighter says, a warm smile on his face. Oh my god, the crush is actually with. A requited crush is almost unheard of. He can hear Kaylah gasp behind the counter. “Busy day today?” He asks, looking softly amused.

“Um, yeah, it’s not too crazy though.” He says as he thinks of the long and ever-growing to-do list he has for the day, taking his baseball cap off to scrub through his hair and hopefully dislodge any food hiding in it. He refuses to embarrass himself in front of the hot firefighter again.

Hot firefighter’s eyes follow the movement, looking entranced. “Your hair is curly.” He says, like he didn’t notice it last time.

“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s getting kind of long, I should probably cut it soon.” Evan laughs, a bit self consciously, as he pulls absently at a curl.

“No, it looks good!” Firefighter immediately protests, and they both pause. “I mean, it looks good on you. At that length. The curls. You look good.”

Evan feels his face burning, and he can’t hold back the wide grin that appears on his face even though he ducks his head a bit. “Yeah? You mean it?” He asks, a bit nervous as he messes with some of the curls.

“I do.” Hot firefighter says earnestly, smiling back. He’s watching Evan’s hair, he realizes, looking entranced as Evan messes with it.

How is this handsome man actually interested in him? How is this his life? Normally, Evan’s life is just one disaster after the other and him scrambling to clean everything up alone, there’s no way this can be real. Not for him. As he looks at the firefighter’s eyes, the warm gaze locked on his own face, he wonders if this will be another disaster to add to the list.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Kaylah calls out, making them both jump and look at her. She and Carly are both watching them, elbows on the counter and passing pieces of a cinnamon roll between each other.

“I’m Tommy.” Hot firefighter, apparently Tommy, says, looking back at Evan.

“Evan!” He blurts out, feeling like he wants the earth to swallow him whole when Tommy looks at him in warm amusement, eyes crinkling at the corners. God, how is this man so gorgeous? How is someone like him even interested in someone like Evan? “Um, that’s me. I’m Evan.”

Tommy hums, looking thoughtful. “Evan.” The way he says his name makes Evan’s legs want to give out. Tommy is wearing his work uniform again, so he’s presumably still on or about to be on shift. “It suits you.”

Evan feels a burst of offense that he quickly stamps down. One of the most common names in the country suits him? Ouch. He knows that’s just his own insecurities talking, but it does feel a bit like a knife in his chest. Actually, that does feel like a knife, a sharp sudden pain that fades as fast as it comes. He clears his throat to get rid of the weird feeling and refocuses on Tommy, who’s frowning a bit now. “What, uh, what brings you here, Tommy?” He asks, loving how the name feels in his mouth.

Tommy smiles at him, looking nervous now. “Honestly, hoping to see you.” He admits, and Evan’s heart jumps. He feels his face get hot, especially as Tommy watches him closely, something soft undercutting the amusement. “A coffee and pastry wouldn’t hurt, either.” He tacks on with a laugh, eyes crinkling at the edges.

Before Evan can do more than beam at him, face still hot, Kaylah clears her throat. “You’re in luck, I’ve got a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls coming out of the oven now!” She says, darting back into the kitchen.

“Uh, do you like cinnamon rolls?” Evan asks, looking at Tommy sheepishly.

Tommy grins. “I love them.”

Evan realizes he’s still holding his hat and puts it back on, backwards of course, and looks up at the drinks menu. “Do you want another dirty chai?” He asks, skimming over the drinks to see if they added anything new.

“You remember my drink order.” Tommy says, sounding surprised.

“Of course, it’s hard to find a man with good taste anymore!” Evan tells him. “You clearly have great taste, it’s memorable.” He pauses, rehearing his words, and feels his face start burning again. Oh god, here he is, embarrassing himself again. Why does he seem to lose all of his brain cells in front of Tommy?

“Great taste? So, I’m better than average, then?” Tommy asks before he can spiral too far, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Way better than average. Like, you set the curve.” Evan assures him, pausing to mutter oh my god under his breath. He looks up to see Carly staring at him, Kaylah peeking out from the kitchen to laugh at him. “They’re making this so much worse.” He groans, before flailing. “Wait, not that this is bad, it’s the opposite of bad, actually-”

“It’s the panacea?” Tommy cuts in gently, amused.

“-yes, the panacea! You’re great, seriously, but they’re not, oh god I’m ruining this already.” Evan drops his face into his hands. This would be a great time to throw himself off a cliff, actually. “Coffee’s on me this time.” Evan says into his hands. “Hopefully not literally.”

Tommy lets out a small laugh, sounding relieved? “You’re not ruining anything, Evan.” He says, and then after a pause, during which he peeks through his fingers and sees Carly and Kaylah nodding and gesturing frantically, Tommy’s hand lands gently on his shoulder. Evan has officially died. How is his hand so big and warm and amazing? “I’m glad, honestly, I thought I’d be the only one nervous.” He confesses quietly, and Evan comes out of hiding to stare at him with wide eyes.

“No way are you nervous, you seem so cool and calm!” Evan blurts out, before hearing the girls start laughing, and he drops his face back into his hands. “They’re on dish pit indefinitely after this, I swear.” He pauses abruptly, mind processing frantically, and looks back up at Tommy. “You remembered the panacea.” He says, astonished.

He hears Carly gasp quietly. “Kaylah, he remembered the panacea.”

“What’s a pan-ah-sea-ah?” Kaylah whispers back.

Tommy’s warm hand is still heavy on his shoulder, and he looks sheepish and almost embarrassed. “Of course I remembered the panacea, Evan. You told me about it, I’m not going to forget.”

Evan can feel his mouth hanging open but he can't find it in himself to close it. How on earth is Tommy real? He actually paid attention to Evan's ramblings about Greek linguistics and remembered them? There's something clawing under his skin, hot and needy, and his eyes burn. “You remembered the panacea.” He finds himself repeating, quieter now. He feels awestruck, almost, and definitely thrown for a loop.

Tommy squeezes his shoulder gently, frowning at him in concern now. “Evan, are you okay?”

He's not sure if he's okay, is the thing. This man he's only just met has remembered more about him and what he has to say than his own parents ever had, than any of his flings or old friends, and he's not quite sure what to do. He wants to sweep Tommy into his arms and never let go, burrow into Tommy's skin in turn, but he also feels absolutely terrified. Oh God, he thinks frantically as he stares at Tommy's face, he hopes he can at least enjoy this for a bit before he messes it all up. “Um. No one's ever really…” He trails off, shaking his head with a frown. How can he say this in a way that won't make Tommy run?

“Ever really what?” Tommy prompts gently.

“Um. Well. Listened, I guess. Bothered to remember.” Evan admits, bringing his hands back up to mess with his hair for want of something to do.

Tommy frowns, looking concerned, as his gaze follows Evan's hands. His hand on Evan's shoulder moves, reaching up for a second, and then as he opens his mouth to say something, anything at all, Carly cuts in.

“Your drinks and cinnamon rolls are ready.” She calls out, giving Evan a wide eyed look. Kaylah looks stunned beside her, still munching on the cinnamon roll she and Carly have been passing back and forth.

Saved by the bell, he guesses. “Oh, uh, thanks!”

Tommy pulls his hand back, lips pursed, and he looks considering. “What drink did you get?” He asks after a pause, walking up to the counter with Evan on his heels like a stray dog.

“Uhh…” Evan looks at the girls, Kaylah thrusting his iced coffee into his hands. He glanced down at the sharpie label. “Iced oat milk sugar cookie cold brew with 2 pumps of vanilla?” He reads out like a question, taking a sip as Tommy holds his own drink and watches him, and hums. “It tastes like an actual cookie, wow. You've gotta try this.” He says, holding it out to Tommy automatically.

Tommy's look of surprise morphs quickly into a smirk and he accepts, lifting the drink to his lips and taking a slow drink as Evan watches wide eyed. Does that count as a kiss, he wonders frantically and feels his face burn. “It's very sweet.” Tommy says, still smirking as he hands the cups back, their fingertips touching. “Just like you.” He adds with a wink, which has Evan blushing deeper.

Before Evan can do more than stammer, Tommy's phone rings and the man groans, quickly fishing it out of his pocket and frowning at the name on the screen. “I have to go, but I'll see you again?” He asks quickly, looking at Evan. Kaylah hands him his cinnamon roll, Tommy holding it with his phone on top of the brown bag it's in without looking away from Evan.

“Yeah, yes, definitely.” Evan says, trying not to feel disappointed. “Um, I'm usually here in the mornings, like now. Um, this time. Usually.”

Tommy grins at him, looking relieved. “Then I'll see you soon.” He says, looking like he wants to say something else but bites it down, instead he takes a step back towards the door. “Thanks for the coffee, Evan.” Then he's gone, answering the phone on the last ring and turning out the door.

Evan stares after him and clutches his coffee with both hands, his chest fluttering and eyes wide. “I think I’m in love.” He declares, expecting the girls to tell him how dumb that is and to tear down his dreams and self esteem in one fell swoop.

“I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but, jeez, I’ve never seen something like that before.” Kaylah says, looking between the door and Evan. “I’ve seen a lot of people flirt with you, and you flirt with them too, but I’ve never seen you like that.” She says, looking shocked.

Carly is nodding in agreement. “See? I told you, love at first sight is real and Evan Buckley is proof of it.”

They both stare at him in awe, and he ignores them to look down at his coffee. He can’t contain his grin anymore, not that he was really trying to, and looks up at them both. “He remembered the panacea, guys. He used it in conversation!”

“Are you forgetting something?” Kaylah asks, looking at him pointedly.

He pauses. “...thanks?”

“No! Pay your bill, Evan, god.” She says, grabbing his card when he holds it out and taps it against the credit card screen reader. “Meeting the love of your life doesn’t get you free coffee. It does get you free cinnamon rolls, though.”

“Oh, you might want to, like, get a napkin or something.” Carly says, gesturing to a spot on her own face. “You’ve got something like, right here. It’s been bothering me since you came in.”

Evan shrieks. “What? Why? Why would you let me look like that while talking to him?” There’s a piece of something brown stuck on his face, he doesn’t even know what it could be, so he investigates. He licks his thumb, swipes the smear, and then licks his thumb again. He feels immediately outraged. “It’s chocolate? When in the frick was I near chocolate?” He demands, setting his coffee and pastry on the counter and accepting the wet paper towel Carly holds out to scrub his face. “Can you like, tell me next time? So I can stop embarrassing myself in front of Tommy the hot firefighter?”

“Yeah, I always tell you.” Carly says, like a liar. “Did you get his phone number this time?”

Evan pauses, pulls back from the paper towel, and drops his face back into his hands. No, no he did not get his phone number. “What if I never see him again.” He groans. He knows he’s being dramatic, but he has honestly never felt such an instant connection with someone. Tommy is not someone he wants leaving his life, even when he’s barely been in it.

“Oh, you’re seeing him again. I’ve never seen someone so lovestruck, other than you right now.” Kaylah chimes in, passing him his coffee back. “Don’t forget to text us the schedule!”

“I’m telling everyone about this.” Carly says, before pausing. “Wait, are you out?”

“Am I out?” Evan repeats, tilting his head to the side. “...out of what?”

“How do you know words like panacea but don’t know that I’m asking if you’re out of the closet?” Carly demands.

“...what closet am I in?” He asks, genuinely confused.

Carly groans. “Are you okay with people knowing the love of your life is a guy?” She rephrases.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Make sure to specify that he’s a very hot firefighter guy.” He says, nodding quickly along.

“Uh, Buckley, you’re about to get a ticket.” Kaylah cuts in, looking out the window in alarm.

With a swear, he grabs his coffee and bolts out the door.

When he arrives at work, he tries to focus on actually working instead of thinking about Tommy. He does the inventory count with his favorite clipboard, meticulously comparing what they have with the upcoming contracts and writing down what he needs to order. The first big jobs out of the new kitchen are coming up soon and he wants to be prepared. They're still short staffed after the winter break and they're getting almost no new applications in for the spring wedding season, so he's trying to focus on what he can do and not on what he can't, and what he can do is inventory and ordering.

He starts up on prep work too, the jobs are going out tomorrow and he wants to get everything ready for the oven and to go out on the jobs. Tomorrow will be stressful enough so at least he can get the food ready to go. He gets the fried chicken for the wedding prepped, separating the pieces and counting out how many to make. With that done, he starts traying up the salmon for the luncheon, writing notes on his clipboard of what goes with it and how many trays he's prepping.

With the worst of it done he just needs to assemble the charcuterie boards, caprese skewers and fruit trays for the wedding. By this point it's early afternoon and he takes a moment to consider his lunch. His cinnamon roll was his breakfast that he practically inhaled in his Jeep and his coffee long gone, so he needs something preferably with protein to get him through the rest of the day. With that in mind, he goes into the freezer to his trusty food stash, and grabs a strawberry uncrustable. He leans up against his favorite metal table in the kitchen as he unwraps it, elbows on the table, and starts gnawing on the frozen uncrustable. He should probably let it thaw first because this can't be good for his teeth, however he's too impatient for that and honestly he likes how the frozen peanut butter and jelly feels in his mouth. He just needs to break through the crust first.

As he gnaws at the outer shell, trying to break off the edge with his back teeth, he hears a door open and voices filter through, then a door shuts. It sounds like the hallway door that leads to the 118 bay. Hen and Chimney amble into the kitchen, Chimney not wearing his sunglasses for once, and they both call out to him.

“Hey, Buck, Cap wants us to tell you-” Hen cuts herself off, her eyebrows shooting up as she watches him gnaw on the uncrustable. “Is that still frozen?”

“Yuh.” Evan says, still gnawing on it.

“You work in a kitchen, why? Why are you eating an uncrustable?” Chimney exclaims, looking shocked.

“Lunch.” Evan says, pulling back from the frozen uncrustable to frown at it. It has teeth marks in it but he can't even break a piece off. “Why, what's up? What did, uh, Bobby want you to tell me…?” He trails off as he looks up, seeing the twin disgusted expressions on their faces.

“I thought you'd be eating, I don't know, filet mignon back here!” Chimney says, pointing at him accusingly. “You have so much food here, why are you eating that? Stop chewing on it!”

Evan pulls it away from where he'd started gnawing again with a frown. “What? That food’s for jobs, I can't eat that. Carynne would kill me. Besides, this is good, it has protein!” He defends himself, watching their expressions become horrified.

“Is a frozen uncrustable the only thing you're eating for lunch?” Hen demands whirling to look at Chimney. The two of them exchange a bunch of different facial expressions, apparently having a silent conversation, so Evan brings the uncrustable up to his mouth again and holds it with his front teeth and sucks at the crust. “Why didn't you thaw it?” She demands further, whirling back to look at him.

Evan just shrugs at that, not wanting to get into the whole, don’t have money to go buy a lunch and don’t have the patience to thaw an uncrustable pipeline.

Chimney throws his hands up again. “You have literally an entire kitchen back here, filled with food, and you’re telling me out of everything you’re choosing to eat that?” He demands. “That’s just sugar, you’re going to get a sugar crash!”

“It has protein!” Evan defends himself.

“Not enough to count!” Chimney shoots back. “That’s not a lunch, you can’t have that for lunch!”

“You need to thaw it at least,” Hen says, “what if you choke on it?”

Evan manages to finally bite through the frozen PB and J, chewing loudly on it as he responds. “I won’t choke on it, it’s just an uncrustable.”

“It’s a choking hazard!” Hen says firmly, putting her hands on her hips.

Evan starts to respond, takes a breath, forgets that the frozen hunk of uncrustable is still in his mouth, and promptly chokes on it. He coughs it up onto the table, somehow both mushy and still frozen, and Hen and Chimney stare at him in horror and disgust. Evan stares down at it in betrayal.

“See?! Choking hazard!” Chimney yells, moving to slap the rest of the uncrustable out of Evan’s hands. It hits the table loudly, bouncing and leaving a trail of ice crystals in its wake.

Hen shakes her head, holding out her hand to Evan expectantly. “You’re not eating that for lunch.” She declares, shaking her head at Evan’s expression. Chimney swoops in to throw the uncrustable, chewed piece included, into the trash can beside the table.

“...I guess I’ll just skip lunch.” Evan says sadly. He only has one uncrustable left in the freezer and he has a feeling that they’d throw it out if he went to grab it. He stares longingly at the trashcan that now holds his lunch. There’s not much in there, just food wrappers really, so maybe it landed in a not-gross part of the trashcan and he can fish it out when Hen and Chimney leave? He looks back up at them to find that they’re both staring at him, and Hen is still holding her hand out expectantly. “Um.”

Hen gets tired of waiting and gently grabs Evan’s arm. “Come on, Buckle.” She says, shaking her head at his confusion. She looks almost fond of him, which feels weird. He looks at Chimney for help, who is still looking like the uncrustable personally offended him.

“You’re having lunch with us today, Buckle.” Chimney says, reaching to grab his other arm, as though they think that Evan is going to try to escape. “No more uncrustables, Bobby made mac and cheese. You can’t choke on mac and cheese.”

Before Evan can do more than sputter in surprise, they both frog march him out to the hallway and through the bay door. It’s his first time in the bay, in the station at all, and he suddenly feels anxious. The bay is filled with emergency vehicles, and there’s a loft that overlooks the vehicle bay that is filled with people and laughter. The smell of food wafts down and it smells so good. His shoulders hunch up, anxiety strong in his stomach. He wants to stop, to take a breath, to curl up on himself and try to breathe, but Hen and Chimney don’t let him pause and march him over to the stairs.

“Bobby, we’ve got a guest!” Chimney calls out, letting go of Evan’s arm and letting Hen drag him up the stairs and following behind.

“Wait, guys, this isn’t-” Evan hisses, trying to pull free, Hen tightening her hold before he can. “Seriously, I’ll be fine, just-”

“You’re going to have lunch with us, and it’ll be fine.” Hen says soothingly, like she’s trying to calm a stray dog. “Everyone is going to love you.”

He feels like a stray dog, especially as they crest the stairs and step onto the loft and all eyes are on him. He’s definitely overwhelmed, staring around with wide eyes, and feeling like he might throw up.

“Buckle, man, blink.” Chimney says quietly, patting his back and helping Hen strong arm him into sitting down at the table where Bobby is setting out plates. “Bobby, you remember our resident caterer?” He says louder, patting Evan’s back before sitting in the chair next to him. Hen finally releases his arm and sits down at the end of the table, both of them boxing Evan in and keeping him from running.

“Of course I do.” Bobby says warmly, a look of concern blossoming on his face as he looks at Evan. “Are you okay, Buckle?”

Evan realizes that it’s been a while since he’s blinked and forces himself to, and then finds that he can’t stop blinking. “Um. Ye-yeah, hi, Bobby. Captain. Um. Sorry, for, uh, crashing?”

“That’s our fault, Cap.” Hen says cheerfully, grabbing the plate in front of Evan and dishing up a big scoop of creamy mac and cheese. There really is mac and cheese, he realizes, Bobby cooked his absolute favorite food without even knowing.

“We kind of kidnapped him.” Chimney adds without remorse, grabbing the plate from Hen and filling it with foods from the other side of the table; salad with cherry tomatoes and cucumbers, a soft looking bread roll, and a stack of golden chicken tenders. He sets the plate back down in front of Evan before starting to fill another plate. “The kid was eating an uncrustable.” He says, sounding disgusted.

“A frozen uncrustable.” Hen adds on, shaking her head. “He didn’t even thaw it.”

Evan stares down at the full plate in front of him with honest confusion. Everyone else at the table is filling their own plates and starting to eat, and he blinks down at the plate. Is this entire plate for him? That’s so much food, no way do they want him eating all of this. He doesn’t want to monopolize on their lunch in the first place, let alone eat so much of their food. Chimney put six chicken tenders on here, do they actually want him eating that much? He feels like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Chimney asks, continuing before Evan can respond. “Oh, wait, I know what you’re missing.” He produces a large bottle of ketchup and squirts a puddle of it onto Evan’s plate, then draws a ketchup smiley face next to it. “There you go, Buckle, eat up.” Chimney says cheerfully.

Not sure if he wants to cry or throw up, Evan thanks him, picks up his fork and takes a bite of the mac and cheese. It’s the best mac and cheese he’s ever had. Is this what homemade cooking is like? It’s so flavorful and creamy, soft inside with a crispy bread crumb topping, and he might actually cry. He’s never had mac and cheese like this.

“So, Buckle, how long have you lived in L.A.?” Bobby asks.

Evan swallows, trying to calm himself down. “Oh, uh, just over a year now.”

“Have you been a caterer the whole time?” Hen asks him, watching as he takes another bite of the delicious mac and cheese before nodding.

“Um, here, yeah.” Evan says. “I did it as a teenager for a few years, then kind of job hopped for a while, and one of my old coworkers told me about De-Lighted Fine Catering looking for a cook so, here I am.” He tries a bite of a chicken tender, first without ketchup, and then with. It tastes better than ones he’s made for himself, crispy without drying out.

“Do you like catering?” Bobby asks him over the sound of scraping forks. No one else is really talking, instead seeming like they’re listening to him and giving him curious looks.

Evan pauses at this. His automatic response is the customer service response, which is to say how much he loves it and how fun it is, but his genuine answer is more complicated. “Um, yes and no.” He says, managing a small laugh as he stares down at his plate. “It can be really fun, you know? Weddings, parties, big events, and I get to meet a lot of interesting people. It’s also really hard and stressful.” He admits, stabbing at a cucumber. “Nothing like the stress of firefighting, you know, but.” He trails off, feeling embarrassed, and shrugs.

“No, I can see that.” Bobby says. “It’s hard enough to make dinner for a firehouse, but for an entire venue of people? I’ve seen enough stressed out wedding staff to know it’s no easy task.”

“Have you had to deal with any bridezillas?” Another firefighter asks, one that looks younger than Evan with dark curly hair. “I’ve seen some of them on TikTok, you know, but haven’t had any calls with them yet.”

“Ravi, of course he’s dealt with bridezillas!” Chimney says indignantly, gently elbowing Evan and giving him a pointed look to his plate until Evan takes another bite. “You have, haven’t you? L.A. weddings can get crazy.”

“Um, yeah? I had one lady scream at me because the cake wasn’t the shade of white she wanted.” He says with a laugh. “We don’t make wedding cakes, we just make the dinner, but she didn’t understand that and demanded I remake the wedding cake with only an hour until the reception.” That gets some laughs from around the loft, so he continues. “I had another bride completely freak out because she didn’t order enough grilled cheese and tomato soup dippers and ran out really fast, she tried to get me to refund her and then make her more on the house but like, they ate them all so I’m not refunding that, plus we were in the middle of a field an hour away from the kitchen.”

“What, did she want you to make some out of grass?” Hen snorts with laughter.

“Here are your grilled cheese dippers, ma’am, on the field and from the field.” Chimney tacks on with a laugh.

Evan laughs too. “All natural and organic, free of charge.”

The younger firefighter, Ravi, leans forward. “What was the craziest wedding you’ve worked?” He asks eagerly.

“Um, probably the one where the groom ditched the bride and their four kids after the ceremony?” Evan offers, frowning in thought as he stabs at his mac and cheese. “Everyone else left, like not even her mom stayed back with her, so I stayed with her and the kids until someone came to pick her up.” He says, the memory of the bride sobbing into the phone while he tried to distract the kids making his stomach churn. “Turns out he left with the best man, and uh, she thought they were…” he makes a vague hand gesture, grimacing.

“He did that after the ceremony?” Hen asks in shock.

He looks up and sees everyone staring at him. “Uh, yeah. Some people wait until all of the paperwork is done to start showing their true colors, you know?” He gives another shrug. That wedding always reminded him too much of Maddie and Doug and he honestly didn’t like thinking about it. “Her mom was blaming her for even being with him and saying that she knew what she was getting into, and she didn’t have like, anyone on her side other than the kids.” Maddie didn’t even have kids to be on her side, not that he would know if she had kids now. He hopes, suddenly, that she doesn’t have any, that Doug wasn’t able to ruin that for her too.

Chimney frowns down at his own plate, looking thoughtful. “That sounds like my fiance’s first marriage.” He says. “Not with the kids, but everything else…” he trails off, looking contemplative.

“She’s out of it now and free from him and her parents, Chimney, she has a wonderful life with you and Jee.” Bobby says seriously.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Chimney says, shaking himself out of it. “Now we just need to find her brother and we’ll be a full set.” He jokes.

“Did you guys decide on the private investigator?” Hen asks, leaning forward to look at him.

Chimney groans at the question. “The guy is expensive as hell but he’s the best one, Athena recommended him. He’s starting to look now, he says it shouldn’t take long to track the kid down.”

Ravi looks hesitant before speaking. “Are you guys sure that he’s, uh… I mean, it’s been years since she’s heard from him, right? What if something happened?” He asks, looking like he regrets the question before he even says it.

Bobby gives Ravi a disapproving look at the question but nods in agreement. “Prepare for the worst but hope for the best outcome.” He says.

Evan feels a twisting in his chest and pokes idly at a chicken tender. It must be nice to be that brother, to have so many people caring and searching even after years of no contact. He wonders if Maddie would ever do that for him, but he knows Doug would never allow it. He almost wishes he was that brother, that his family cared enough to look for him, but figures if he’s going to be wishing for things he might as well wish that Maddie never left him in the first place. That he had a supportive family that loved him and cared for him no matter what, like what the 118 seem to have with each other.

“Buckle, eat your food.” Hen scolds lightly, getting him to look up at her a bit startled. She gives him an amused look before reaching out to grab his face gently, holding him in place as she comes up with her other hand holding a napkin to wipe something off of his face. “You’re worse than Denny.” She says with a laugh, releasing his face.

“Who’s Denny?” He asks, a bit confused and more than a bit thrown.

“My son.” Hen tells him. “He’s about to turn 13.”

Chimney is staring hard at Evan’s birthmark with a confused look. “Hen, you missed a spot.”

“That’s his birthmark, Chim.” Hen says in amusement, giving him a weird look. Chimney gives her a weird look back, and they start having a silent conversation again, with a lot of eyebrow movements.

Evan takes a bite of chicken tender, following it up with a bite of mac and cheese. He wonders if Bobby will tell him the recipe for it. For now, sitting at the table with the 118 and eating his first homemade meal since he was a kid, he can pretend that he’s part of their family and ignore his own life for a while. The realization hits him as Hen spoons another serving of the creamy mac and cheese onto his plate, listening to Bobby talking about a movie he’s going to see with his wife this week, that for the first time since he’s come to L.A. he isn’t lonely.