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APRIL 7th - National Coffee Cake Day
“This is amazing, Buck,” Hen says, shoving another mouthful of cake into her mouth. “Why aren’t you bringing this every shift?”
“Seriously, Buck,” Chim says, cutting himself a huge slice. “You didn’t secretly get dumped again, did you?”
“Thanks guys,” Buck says, eyeing Eddie as he comes up the stairs and rubbing at the back of his neck, “but, no, I didn’t secretly get dumped again.”
“Glad to hear it,” says Chim. “But then what’s the occasion?”
“Well,” Buck says as Eddie slides onto the stool beside him at the island, already aware from Buck’s tone of voice that he’s up to something, “funny you should ask. Did you know today is National Coffee Cake day?” He passes Eddie a slice that seemed to be set aside specially for him. Eddie flashes him a smile and Buck’s ears turn ever so slightly pink.
“Seriously?” Hen asks around a mouthful of cake. “There must be a day for everything at this point.”
Buck gets a gleam in his eyes. “Oh no,” Eddie groans.
“What?” asks Chim.
“I couldn’t sleep the other night,” Buck starts, and almost nothing good has ever come from him starting a sentence with that, “and I started researching national days, and I made us a calendar!” He points proudly to the fridge, where sure enough a new calendar is hanging. “I found something to celebrate for every single day of the year. I thought it could be a neat way to have something to look forward to every shift, right? Someone can bring food or we can learn about a person or a topic. It’s great, right?”
Eddie watches Hen and Chim exchange one of their glances. “Well…” Hen starts.
“I do think it’s great, Buck,” Bobby says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I can’t promise B and C shifts will follow our lead, but I think it could be fun.”
Buck beams, and Eddie knows already that he’s going to get roped into a lot of somethings in the future, and he also knows he’ll never be able to say no.
APRIL 28th - National Great Poetry Reading Day
“You don’t have to actually read us the poem out loud,” Buck says to them in the back of the truck as they make their way back to the station from a small fender bender. “Just tell everyone what your favorite is so we can all read it on our own time!”
Eddie sighs. “I’m not lying to get out of it, Buck. I just really don’t have a favorite poem. I think the last time I even read a poem was Dr. Seuss when Chris was still young enough for that.”
“Oh, I have one!” Chim says. “There once was a man from–” Twin looks from Hen and Bobby stop him. “No fun,” he pouts.
“I remember liking some from the Harlem Renaissance back in high school,” Hen says. “But I don’t remember the names of most of them. I’ll try to look some up if we have any downtime and I’ll let you know.”
“Fine,” Buck says with a pout, and he’s still pouting fifteen minutes later when they pull back into the bay.
They make their way up to the couches, flopping down, and Eddie hopes that’s the end of it, but Buck can’t seem to let it go. “You really can’t think of a single poem?” he prods, poking at Eddie with his foot.
“I wasn’t a good student like Hen,” Eddie replies. “Talk to me again when there’s another food related day.”
Buck’s pout deepens, but every morning for the next two weeks Eddie wakes up to a text with a link to a new poem. He reads each one and sends back his thoughts, and though they never mention it outside of those brief exchanges, he’s a little sad when they stop coming through.
MAY 15th - Bring Flowers to Someone Day
Eddie hears Buck before he sees him, cooking sounds and the accompanying humming reaching him as soon as he opens his bedroom door. He fell back to sleep after getting Christopher off to school, and had been planning to sleep away most of the rest of their day off, but clearly Buck has other plans.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Buck says with a cheeky grin once Eddie makes his way into the kitchen. He wants to sass back but before he can, a mug of coffee is being pressed into his hands and fine, it can wait. It’s perfect, just like it always is when Buck makes it, and Eddie takes a moment to savor it. When he opens his eyes, he finally spots the vase in the middle of the kitchen table.
“Flowers?”
Buck gives him an unimpressed look. “You really never read my calendar, do you?”
Eddie sits at the table. “Why would I when I know you’re gonna tell me anyway?” Buck rolls his eyes and pokes at the eggs he’s scrambling. “So what is it, then, national daffodil day?”
“Those are daylilies,” Buck informs him, “and I got them at the farmer’s market this morning along with these eggs and a loaf of that bread you like and some jam.”
Eddie swallows a mouthful of coffee. “And you brought them to me?” The flowers, yes, but the rest of it, too. And of course Buck remembered what bread he liked from the market one time, months ago, when Eddie can barely remember the kind he gets weekly from the grocery store. His stomach does a flip, and he doesn’t think it’s from the coffee on an empty stomach.
“Of course I brought them to you. Where else would I bring them?”
Definitely not the coffee.
MAY 26th - National Paper Airplane Day
It hits Eddie as he’s walking into the station for their shift. Quite literally, a paper airplane hits him square in the chest before fluttering to the floor. He hears cheers coming from above him and looks up to see Hen, Chimney and Buck all high-fiving. He picks up the projectile enemy from the floor and, making very deliberate eye contact, crumples it up, then heads into the locker room to get changed. Chim’s boos echo behind him as the door closes.
Once he makes it up to the loft he discovers the main table covered in an assortment of paper, different sizes and colors and textures, all being used to make more planes.
“We’re figuring out which type of paper flies best,” Buck informs him before he can even ask.
“Very scientific,” Eddie replies, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter.
‘Cmon,” Buck says, sidling up next to him and bumping his hip against Eddie’s. “We need more help folding.”
“I think you’ve got it covered,” says Eddie, eyeing the table where several fully adult firefighters are arguing over the best folding techniques. “Besides, wouldn’t it be more scientifically accurate to have the same person make all of them? Less variables?”
“Someone’s been paying attention in science class,” Buck teases. Eddie rolls his eyes but stays there next to Buck, both of them quietly watching everyone at the table for a few moments. “I know you think it’s silly,” Buck says softly.
“What, getting bombarded by a paper plane the second I walk into my job that does not employ anyone under the age of twenty?”
Buck rolls his eyes now. “My national days. I know you think it’s a silly thing, but it’s nice to have a distraction sometimes, you know?”
Eddie pauses, coffee cup halfway to his mouth, and turns toward Buck. “Buck,” he says, “I don’t think it’s silly. Of course I don’t. I mean, yeah, paper airplanes themselves are a silly thing, but the whole idea… I think it’s great.”
“Really?” Buck says, and he sounds genuinely surprised. “You just never seem to want to participate.”
“I like observing,” Eddie says with a shrug. Then, and maybe he’ll blame it on not being done with his coffee yet or falling asleep too late last night, he lets slip, “Especially when it’s you.”
The tips of Buck’s ears go red and he ducks his head. Eddie thinks he wants to observe that particular response again. And again and again.
“One plane,” Buck says, holding out his hand.
Eddie smiles. “One plane.” He takes Buck’s hand and lets himself be led to the table.
JUNE 8th - National Best Friends Day
“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Buck says as they climb into the Jeep after their shift. “We hit up that food truck on the way home with the really good breakfast burritos, and we can eat there if we want or take them back to the house, and then we nap then have lunch, I think there’s still leftover lasagna from the other night or I could make something, and then we can let Chris decide what we do in the afternoon, so we could go to the zoo or a museum or a movie or the beach, whatever, and then we can pick one of our favorite restaurants for dinner. Perfect day, right?”
Eddie is still stuck on “home,” and, “the house,” and the way hearing Buck say those so casually stirs something in him that’s getting harder and harder to ignore. “You’re sure that’s what you want to do with your first day off?” is what he says out loud.
“It’s not just our day off, Eddie, it’s National Best Friends Day,” Buck says, very seriously, as he pulls onto the road in the direction of the food truck. “We have to celebrate properly.”
“Right,” Eddie says, still a little dazed. “Of course. Whatever you want, then.”
“It’s what you want, too,” Buck insists.
“I want whatever you want.” He sees Buck’s hands flex on the steering wheel, his grip tight. “And Chris, of course,” he adds quickly, but he knows they both know what he meant.
“Okay,” Buck says after a silence that is probably only a couple seconds but feels like an eternity. “How about you pick the place for dinner?”
“I can do that,” Eddie says. He wants to reach out, place a hand on Buck’s arm, take his hand and twine their fingers together. National Best Friends Day. Maybe it’s just that. Buck is his best friend, and he wants to treat Eddie and Christopher to a nice day. He doesn’t think he’s been reading things wrong, but still, he can’t jeopardize the plans that clearly mean so much to Buck. He keeps his hands to himself.
JUNE 22nd - National Chocolate Eclair Day
Eddie tries to ignore the disappointment that settles in his stomach when he gets up and finds the couch empty. Christopher is at a sleepover and Buck had crashed on the couch the night before and Eddie had wanted so, so badly to pack all the guest bedding back into the closet and bring Buck to his room and never let him go.
They’ve been teetering on the edge of something for a few weeks now, since Best Friends Day, but also for months, and years, probably from the day they met. And Eddie had thought that maybe, finally, they were on the same page, but now Buck is gone without a word and there’s a stone in Eddie’s chest growing bigger by the second.
He runs a hand through his hair and lets his arm drop back down, heavy, then heads into the kitchen.
“Buck?”
“Hey, you’re up!” Buck stands up from the table and opens the box in front of him.
“Donuts?” Eddie’s brain is still trying to catch up with the fact that Buck somehow woke up, snuck out of the house, got breakfast, snuck back in, and made coffee, all before Eddie was awake and without waking him up.
“Technically eclairs,” Buck says. “National Chocolate Eclair Day.”
“Right.” There’s a cup of coffee next to the box that must be meant for him because it looks just right and Buck is holding his own usual mug already, anyway. Because this is Eddie’s house but Buck is here more often than he’s at his own apartment these days and he has a mug. His clothes are in the laundry and his shoes are by the front door and Eddie doesn’t know what to do with it all. “Thank you.”
He sits down next to Buck and only then notices that one of the eclairs already has a bite out of it. Buck gets that sheepish look on his face that Eddie adores, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I, uh, might have gotten a little hungry on the way home from the bakery.”
“I don’t mind,” Eddie says, and he grabs the same eclair and takes another bite out of it.
“You know,” Buck says, “there’s another day that’s celebrated on June 22nd.”
“Oh?”
“National Kissing Day,” and before Eddie can register it Buck’s lips are on his, warm and sugary and more perfect than anything Eddie could ever have dreamed of.
Eddie kisses back, swipes his tongue across Buck’s mouth, and when Buck opens for him he tastes like chocolate and sugar and the rest of his life.
“Why didn’t you lead with that one?” Eddie asks, breathless, when they finally break apart.
Buck laughs, tipping their foreheads together. “Didn’t think it was workplace appropriate,” he says.
“Good thing we have the day off, then,” Eddie says. “I plan on fully participating in this one.”
“Thank god,” says Buck, and he pulls Eddie up and drags him as close as possible, kissing him again and again like he never wants to stop. Eddie would be perfectly fine with that.
Much later, when they’re sprawled together on the couch, Buck asleep against his chest and some terrible reality show quiet in the background, Eddie pulls out his phone to make a quick search.
March 20th: National Proposal Day.