Can you stay forever

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Adriana's eyes are fixed somewhere to their left. He reluctantly follows her gaze and notices that one of the bartenders, frosted tips and a puka shell necklace, keeps glancing their way and quickly looking away. "Nah," he disagrees, turning back towards her, "I think he's looking at you."

"Not a chance. I waved at him, y'know on account of my love of making people feel awkward when they get caught staring, and he didn't even notice because his attention was about foot in front of me." She sounds delighted, the same way she does every time she sees a chance to try and set Eddie up. "You should go talk to him."

Eddie looks in the direction of the bar again, watching the man now that he's too busy serving patrons to look his way, and sees that, while the frosted tips and puka shell necklace are a tragic choice considering how far removed they are from y2k, he's actually kind of pretty. He also looks very young. "He's like half my age, Adri."

Sophia, who up until this point has been quietly observing, making her his favorite sister for those two minutes, scoffs, "You love to exaggerate. He can't be more than ten years younger than you." Just like that, she loses her favorite sister title.

"Ten years is a lot. Ten years ago I was already married with a kid." Not to mention that the last ten years have kind of aged him twenty years which means he definitely has no business with someone like the baby faced bartender who desperately needs a new hairstylist.

"Okay," she says, dragging out the word, moving her hands up and down as if weighing his argument against hers, "and you did both of those things when you were damn near a baby yourself, so that definitely isn't a valid reason not to go talk to the gawking white boy."

"What even makes you think he's my type?" Eddie doesn't really have a type, but they don't need to know that. Although, given the disbelieving looks they both level him with, he's sure they have more arguments up their sleeves. He should've known better, after all, he basically raised them.

"Oh, you really wanna try that one on me?" Adriana asks, the question sounding more like a threat. "I've watched enough NSYNC music videos with you to know that the guy in the Justin Timberlake costume over there is absolutely your type."

Eddie purses his lips as he stares her down. "First of all, I was always more of a JC guy, and second of all-" he flounders for a moment, "it's not 2001 anymore, maybe I've evolved."

Silence hangs over the table for a solid ten seconds before they both burst out laughing. Eddie can't do anything other than sit back silently, let them get it out of their systems, and try to ignore the various eyes that keep darting over to them the longer their laughter goes on.

"Eddie," Adriana giggles, wiping tears from her eyes, "you were watching an NSYNC video on the flight here." Alright, yeah, he should've known better than to try to argue against the NSYNC thing.

He sighs, turning to look back towards the bar. Frosted Tips—as Eddie's decided to call him—is talking to someone sitting at the bar, laughing as he places a glass in front of her, which fades into a flirty smile when she slides her hand over his. Eddie, for some reason he can't quite fathom considering he's just spent the last five minutes arguing against going up there, feels something close to disappointment. He allows the feeling to sit for just a second before he turns back to the girls with a triumphant smile.

"Your boy moves fast," he tells them. Sophia's eyes get big and sad, while Adriana's narrow as she watches Frosted Tips, like she's trying to make him fall on his face through sheer will force. "Which just proves my point, he wasn't looking at me." Maybe now they'll stop.

"That's fine," Adriana says, her glare fading as she finally looks away from the bar, "we're on vacation. I can find you someone else in less than an hour."

Eddie lets out a long, exaggerated groan.

"Adri, please, I don't need or want a relationship, or a date, or a one night stand, or even a pen pal. I am happy without any of that." He has his son, he has Pepa, he has abuela, he has his sisters, and he has his firehouse—he is perfectly fulfilled.

"But you could be happier," Sophia implores, turning her eyes on him, making them extra big. He taught her how to do that, he doesn't know why she thinks it'll work on him.

"I could be," he concedes, watching them light up thinking they've won, "if I was in the ocean instead of sitting here. Let's go swim, your failed cupid attempt kept us here longer than I planned for." He stands, gesturing for them to get up as well, letting them guide the way out of the bar, their overlapping voices complaining the whole way.

"It's not my fault the man's attention span is the size of a shot glass, you should've went up there when I told you the first time."

"I can't believe you'd accuse us of being failures, that goes against everything our Sibling Bonding Vacation stands for."

Their voices fade as they step back out into the Peruvian heat, and Eddie can't resist the urge to glance back at the bar one last time—Frosted Tips' eyes are already on him. Eddie flashes him a small smile before turning around and following his sisters outside.

They mean well, Eddie knows that, which is what keeps him from getting too annoyed with them—most of the time. Right now though, Eddie thinks when he sees Sophia wading toward him, might be one of those times when the annoyance wins out.

"I found someone else for you." She looks excited in a way that Eddie typically doesn't see outside of Christmas and her birthday.

"Soph," Eddie huffs, wondering how long he'd have to stay underwater before she got the hint and swam away, "what part of 'stop playing cupid' isn't clicking for you two?"

"That's actually not what you said at all," she argues, "you said that we failed at being cupid, and I took that personally, so we're trying this again."

Eddie rolls his eyes and begins heading in the direction she came from. It won't accomplish anything, she's just gonna follow him, but it's the principle of the matter that's important—she'll know she's annoying.

"She's a lawyer," Sophia says, following him, just like he knew she would—she's been doing it since she learned to crawl, "she's a year older than you—in fact, she's here celebrating her birthday with her sisters so y'know you have the loving siblings thing in common—and she lives in Las Vegas." She says the last part like it's the big selling point, and all Eddie can do is look at her blankly.

She rolls her eyes, as if he's the one being unreasonable. "If it goes well with her then Vegas isn't too too far from Los Angeles—you could make the distance work—but if it doesn't go well then Vegas is far away enough that you don't have to worry about running into her." She spreads her hands out in front of her, evidently waiting for his excitement—that isn't going to come.

"You spent two hours on the flight here telling Adriana that long distance relationships are doomed to fail, and anyone who's in one is just in denial about the fact that they've already wasted a good portion of their lives," Eddie reminds her, pushing his dripping hair out of his face when they reach the shore. That conversation had ended with Adriana shoving a peanut up Sophia's nose and Eddie being shoved into the middle seat for the last three hours of their flight.

Sophia shrugs, unrepentant. "The sooner she breaks up with the wannabe rolling stone the happier we'll all be. Although, "she adds thoughtfully, "I will miss the disgusted looks mom and dad get on their faces when she talks about him."

Eddie's parents not liking someone is usually enough to improve Eddie's opinion of them, except that—since Eddie's never actually met Adriana's "musician" boyfriend—he's had to rely solely on Sophia's opinion, and given the disgruntled look she gets on her face every time Adriana brings him up, Eddie's pretty sure it's safe to say he also wouldn't mourn the end of Adriana's relationship with the guy.

"This vacation means it's also a vacation from being set up, okay?" He turns to her, trying to make sure his point really gets across. "I get enough of that at home with Hen, Karen, and Chim." All of whom are almost as relentless as his sisters, especially Chim who seems to think his matchmaking success rate of one married couple means it's his job to find someone for all his single friends. Although, for some reason, that matchmaking never seems to extend to Bobby—in fact, the closest Bobby ever seems to come to going on a date is when he hangs out with Chimney, alone—but well, far be it for Eddie to get into someone else's business. All Eddie knows is that he dreads to think of what would happen if the three of them ever met Sophia and Adriana.

Sophia crosses her arms. "Well, have you considered that, maybe, if the love of your life isn't in California or Texas, they could be in Peru? Maybe Jessie could be it."

Who?

Eddie narrows his eyes at her in confusion.

"Maybe if you let me finish talking you wouldn't be so confused." she mutters. "Jessie's the lawyer."

Eddie rolls his eyes, continuing to make his way up the beach. He really just wants to wash the salt water off of himself and take a nap before they go to dinner. "I'm sure she's great, but like I said, stop it."

"But Eddie, I showed her a picture and she really likes your mustache," she calls. He just keeps walking, she'll catch up. "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie," she continues calling when he doesn't answer.

"Fine, we'll let it go," she groans. He stops and turns to look at her, trying to gauge how honest she's being. "You can be peacefully single in Peru."

"Thank you." At least he has four and a half days of peace before it begins back home again. "I'm gonna go take a nap," he tells her before continuing to make his way off the beach, "try not to get into too much trouble," he calls over his shoulder.

"Oh, wait. That's the other thing I came to get you for."

"You guys got into trouble already?" He asks in disbelief. "I wasn't even in the water that long."

"No," Sophia scoffs, grabbing his arm and pulling him back towards the bar they were at earlier, "your lack of faith is rude, by the way. I need you to go make Adriana get off the phone with him." Her lip curls in disgust.

"Why?" Eddie chuckles.

"We were supposed to go check out the spa, but then he called and all of a sudden that's the most important thing ever." Eddie doesn't think he's ever seen her hate someone this much—she's the sweetheart of the family. He's really gotta meet this guy and see what's wrong with him first hand.

Eddie comes to a halt at the entrance of the bar. "Wait."

Sophia pauses next to him, looking up at him with confusion that he's not entirely convinced is real. "What?"

"This isn't you guys trying to get me to talk to the bartender again, is it?"

"What? No." She says, scrunching up her face. "We're over him. Adriana's still annoyed he couldn't commit to lusting after you for more than five minutes before getting distracted." She walks into the door, looking behind her to make sure he's following. "If it's gonna be anyone now, it's gonna be Jessie." She points at him, kind of threateningly in Eddie's opinion.

He raises his hands in surrender before following her—very pointedly not looking at the bar this time— to the table where she left Adriana. Her phone is on the table, a furrow between her brows as she stares intently down at it. Eddie exchanges a glance with Sophia before calling out, "Adri."

He walks around to stand behind her seat, wrapping his arms and squeezing her, making her groan.

"You're dripping all over me, let go." She wriggles in his arms, which just ends up making his hair shake loose from where he pushed it back, making it drip on her even more.

"What're you doing here?" He asks when he eventually drops into the seat next to her. "Alone in the bar isn't exactly very Sibling Bonding of you," he teases, trying to draw a smile from her.

"Quick pit stop before the spa." She doesn't want to talk about whatever her boyfriend did to upset her, that's fine—for now—but Eddie knows, after exchanging another look with Sophia, that they'll for sure be bringing it back up later. "Let's go."

They're on their way back out when the sound of a smashing glass draws their attention to an unsteady looking man by the bar. He's surrounded by multiple people, employees and other customers alike, seemingly arguing with all of them—loud and incoherent—looking as if he's seconds away from swinging at one of them. Eddie watches for a second longer, not wanting to get involved, figuring the last thing he needs is to be arrested in a foreign country, but he notices that the people around the drunk are starting to look more and more overwhelmed. He resigns himself to his fate and takes a step toward the small group when security finally arrives to escort—force— the man outside.

"Wait, wait," Adriana says, holding onto his arm, not letting him move from his spot, "maybe you can still be useful over there." She sounds like she's teasing him, but he has no idea why. He looks down at her confused, only for her to nod over to the bar with a small smile. He looks back over and notices Frosted Tips next to the bar, a towel pressed to his head, and blood dripping down his face. He feels two hands push him shove him a little, and when he glances back his sisters shoo him away.

"It's fate. The paramedic and the medical emergency." Sophia looks like she's watching a fairytale play out in front of her eyes, and not the aftermath of a man's liquor induced rage. Eddie glares at them before—once again—resigning himself to his fate. He begins making his way over to where another man is in front of Frosted Tips, poking at the gash in his forehead.

"Oh, dude," the guy tells Frosted Tips, sounding like he's two seconds from a panic attack, "that looks real bad. It's bleeding like crazy, I gotta call an ambulance."

"Head wounds just bleed a lot," Eddie pipes up, making them both look over. Frosted Tips' eyes widen, while the other guy looks at him like he's found a victim to pawn this problem onto.

"Are you a doctor?" The other guy asks.

"Paramedic," Eddie corrects, his eyes focused entirely on Frosted Tips. Eddie gestures to his own forehead before pointing to Frosted Tips' bleeding face. "Can I take a look at that for you?"

"Huh," Frosted Tips says blankly. The other guy jabs him in the side harshly, making Frosted Tips jolt and look at him before they both turn back to where Eddie is standing. "Oh, um, yeah, if it's-if it's not too much trouble." Eddie very kindly ignores the way Frosted Tips can't seem to keep his eyes from darting down to Eddie's bare, wet stomach.

"No," Eddie tells him, smiling—soothingly, the way he does for all his patients…not because the guy is endearing or anything—and making his way around the bar, "it's not a problem at all. Is there a place we can do this where there's less of a chance you'll bleed into someone's drink or food?" His desire to move somewhere more private definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he can feel Sophia and Adriana's eyes burning holes into his back.

"The office in the back should be fine, and since you seem to be in good hands I'm gonna go call the cops." The other guy pats Frosted Tips on the back before heading in the direction where security took the drunk guy.

Frosted Tips flashes him an awkward smile before leading the way. Eddie looks over to where he left Sophia and Adriana and sees them both flashing him thumbs ups. He flips them off before turning back to follow Frosted Tips. He opens a door that's at the end of a hallway and gestures for Eddie to head inside in front of him before following him in and closing the door behind them. He stands there staring at Eddie, his bleeding head wound dripping down his face, while Eddie's still wet body drips on the floor. Eddie grabs a first aid kit he sees on a shelf before turning back to him.

"You wanna take a seat?" Eddie asks when it's clear Frosted Tips is a little too out of it to figure out what to do next. He drops into the chair next to the desk without a word, looking up at Eddie with big blue eyes. Eddie reaches for the towel, removing it from the injury, and sees that it isn't that bad. "That guy take a swing at you or something?"

"No," his voice croaks. He clears it before speaking again, "No, he threw his drink and the glass cut me."

Eddie nods. "Okay," he murmurs, reaching for some gloves and alcohol wipes from the kit, "it's not bad. You're not gonna need stitches, I'm just gonna clean it and then a regular band-aid should be enough."

"Okay," he says softly, mimicking Eddie's tone of voice. He licks his lips, glancing down before darting his eyes back up, "you're really wet." His cheeks immediately turn red, probably mirroring Eddie's own—suddenly burning—face. "I'm so sorry," he tells Eddie, shutting his eyes hard, "I have no idea why I said that."

"It's okay," Eddie chuckles, gently cleaning the cut with the wipes, "blood loss makes everyone lose their filter."

He nods. "Great. Embarrassing, but great," he whispers, probably not meaning for Eddie to hear. "Hey, um, if it's not that deep, why is it bleeding so much?"

"Lots of blood vessels up here." Eddie taps the side of Frosted Tips' head that isn't cut. "A lot of blood in there means it doesn't take as much to have it pouring." Eddie presses the band-aid over the cut before standing back. "I'm gonna ask you a few questions, I just wanna check for a concussion, okay?"

Frosted Tips nods.

"Do you know your full name?"

"Evan Buckley." Okay, no more Frosted Tips, Eddie's gotta admit, he's kind of gonna miss the nickname.

"Okay, Evan, I'm Eddie, nice to meet you." Evan smiles at him. It does something to Eddie's stomach that he refuses to acknowledge right now. "What year is it?"

"2016."

"Where are you from?"

"Hershey, Pennsylvania."

"When were you born?"

"June 27, 1991."

"Who's the president?"

Evan looks at him with amusement. "American or Peruvian?"

"Right," Eddie huffs out a laugh, "foreign country. Either, both."

"Obama, Humala."

"Alright," Eddie says, pleased with Evan's evident coherence, "you're good to go. If you feel dizzy or confused or your head hurts later, make sure you go to the hospital to get checked out."

"Thanks," Evan says, sounding more comfortable now that his face doesn't look like Carrie at the end of the movie. "So you're a paramedic? How'd you end up doing that?"

"Yeah, for about a year." Eddie starts packing away the first aid kit. "I'd been a firefighter for a few years and then I figured I might as well get certified as a paramedic too since I already had the skills for it."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." Eddie smiles at him. "It's such a rewarding job, and on top of that, the people I work with, my firehouse, are some of the best people I've ever met. I got really lucky." Of course that luck had come after a few years of dealing with racist, homophobic bigots, and was only possible once certain old faces left and were subsequently replaced, but still, lucky.

"Sounds great," Evan looks wistful.

Something in his expression makes Eddie feel the need to ask, "have you ever thought about being a firefighter?"

"I mean," Evan laughs a little, "just in the way most kids dream about being a firefighter. I've worked a lot of different jobs, guess I just haven't gotten around to that one yet," he jokes.

"Well, not to brag," Eddie says, fully meaning to brag, "but, if you do decide to go down that route, the LAFD is one of the best departments in the US."

"Are you trying to take me home with you, Eddie?" Evan flirts, or at least Eddie thinks he is.

Eddie laughs a little. "And if I was?"

Evan blushes, a pretty pink color that Eddie can appreciate now that he knows Evan's not concussed. A knock on the door interrupts them before he can hear what Evan would've come up with next. "Evan, you good?"

Evan coughs, "Uh, yeah, I'll head back out in a minute." There's a single knock of acknowledgement on the door before the person walks away.

They make their way back out into the bar area and Eddie assumes that's it. They flirted a little, and maybe for a brief second Eddie wondered what it would look like if they got to get to know each other better back home, but they both have lives to get back to that are in different countries, so that's the end of that. That's what Eddie assumes, at least until Evan stops and turns to him.

"How long are you here for?" Evan asks, hesitantly in a way that seems out of place on the man that just asked if Eddie was gonna take him home with him.

"Me and my sisters are here until Saturday."

Evan nods, his eyes darting across Eddie's face. "Then, maybe, I'll see you around?"

"You definitely will," Eddie promises, making a small smile appear on Evan's face.

God, his sisters are gonna be so smug.

“You knew about this? That he’s a fed?”

“Was a fed, thanks,” Eddie points out, and there’s Buck’s snarling vitriol again, with Eddie in the crosshairs. 

Eddie has the awareness at the back of his mind that he should be intimidated. He has no doubt that Buck could give him a run for his money should it come down to a physical fight, but he’s just so— it’s not about weakness, Eddie just has this instinct for people. He thinks, probably, the fact that feds aren’t welcome here, is likely a point in Buck’s favor, even. 

“I don’t care what tense you say it in, we don’t keep cops on board,” Buck spits. 

“Buck. I need you to take a breath—”

“Bobby, don’t patronize him,” Maddie says, a frustrated breath and a cross to her arms all smooth movement and the slightest furrow between her brows. “It’s not an undue concern. You know that.”

Bobby, for his part, looks a little sheepish at the telling-off, which has Eddie making further note of the somewhat flat leadership structure going on around here. Obviously they all answer to Bobby when it comes down to it, but he answers back when it’s appropriate. Eddie’s never seen something like that before. 

“Fair,” he offers carefully, Buck still fuming between them, still working his jaw, still giving Eddie such a thorough once-over that it’s almost a physical touch rooting through his pockets at this point. “But listen to me, kid, just listen: do you trust me?” 

Buck’s eyes snap to his captain, his jaw clenched down tight and his nose flaring on the inhale. The look on his face is stony, displeased, and sharp. Bobby meets it head-on in a silent exchange that passes between the two of them, and then the knife in Buck’s hand is clattering back to the table and he’s storming towards the door. He slams his hand against the door switch, sending it open with a swish-click, and then turns on his heel. 

“You’ve got a dangerous bias, Bobby,” he snaps in parting. “Not everyone’s Athena.”

“You knew about this? That he’s a fed?”

“Was a fed, thanks,” Eddie points out, and there’s Buck’s snarling vitriol again, with Eddie in the crosshairs. 

Eddie has the awareness at the back of his mind that he should be intimidated. He has no doubt that Buck could give him a run for his money should it come down to a physical fight, but he’s just so— it’s not about weakness, Eddie just has this instinct for people. He thinks, probably, the fact that feds aren’t welcome here, is likely a point in Buck’s favor, even. 

“I don’t care what tense you say it in, we don’t keep cops on board,” Buck spits. 

“Buck. I need you to take a breath—”

“Bobby, don’t patronize him,” Maddie says, a frustrated breath and a cross to her arms all smooth movement and the slightest furrow between her brows. “It’s not an undue concern. You know that.”

Bobby, for his part, looks a little sheepish at the telling-off, which has Eddie making further note of the somewhat flat leadership structure going on around here. Obviously they all answer to Bobby when it comes down to it, but he answers back when it’s appropriate. Eddie’s never seen something like that before. 

“Fair,” he offers carefully, Buck still fuming between them, still working his jaw, still giving Eddie such a thorough once-over that it’s almost a physical touch rooting through his pockets at this point. “But listen to me, kid, just listen: do you trust me?” 

Buck’s eyes snap to his captain, his jaw clenched down tight and his nose flaring on the inhale. The look on his face is stony, displeased, and sharp. Bobby meets it head-on in a silent exchange that passes between the two of them, and then the knife in Buck’s hand is clattering back to the table and he’s storming towards the door. He slams his hand against the door switch, sending it open with a swish-click, and then turns on his heel. 

“You’ve got a dangerous bias, Bobby,” he snaps in parting. “Not everyone’s Athena.”