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Chapter Text

Evan Buckley couldn’t complain. 

Looking at his life, that was pretty much how he could sum it up. His family had money, he had a roof over his head, three square meals a day. He had a mom and a dad and a sister who loved him- and now that he’s an adult, he has a good job. He does good work at his good job, and life is good. He shouldn’t complain. He couldn’t complain.

Working at the 118 gives him purpose. Buck has a reason to get out of bed, do work that he feels good about. He felt more seen than ever before by his fire family, whether that be out of necessity or something deeper. So much time together in close quarters, he should have expected them to become family. They give him a hard time about being a dumbass, but they compliment him on his good work, too. He’s good. He’s fine- he couldn’t complain, no matter how shitty he might feel right now.

When Buck wakes up, something melancholy hits him with enough force to leave him reeling. Every morning, Buck feels the ache of something missing . He simply can’t allow himself to think too deeply about the source of that hole, so he’ll shove absolutely anything inside of it to keep himself out. 

Running. Lifting, cooking. He tried reading, but that didn’t go so well. Baking works as long as he’s allowed to bring stuff to the house, or else he’d get fat, and that definitely won’t do. 

Every day feels like he’s living in the same cursed loop of time. Buck didn’t want to believe that life was supposed to be like this- fine. He wanted to be more than fine. He wanted to be good. Happy . He’s heard all of those trite phrases about how you can’t love others if you don’t love yourself, but that never made any sense to him. Honestly, it would probably be better if he managed to close himself off. Buck was so desperate for love and affection that he was willing to tear himself apart for the people he loved, prove to them that he deserves their care and trust in return- begging them to feel something (anything) for him. 

His parents barely felt anything for him. They couldn’t bother to ever be very involved with him, in any capacity. The only time Buck could ever remember them expressing any genuine interest was when he did something stupid. He’d break his leg, and that would give them a few hours at the hospital, at least, and usually a follow-up appointment or two. It was harder for people to ignore him when he was being stupid. They’d be annoyed, sometimes angry, and Buck held onto that with the skin of his teeth. 

It has to be enough. It has to be. 

It’s still early. If he leaves now, he will be about an hour early for his shift, but he doesn’t care. The gym will be empty and he’ll have time to wake up and calm the fuck down before he’s back out there, saving lives, doing something to ease the ache in his chest. 

It’s only when he sees Bobby’s car in the driveway that he remembers there’s a new recruit today. It’s exciting, Buck has to admit. He’s not going to be the probie anymore. There will be someone else for him to boss around, which is always fun. He can still tease Chimney because he’s, like, tiny. But he wouldn’t dare do that to Hen, and Chim is kind of an easy target. Having someone new, it’ll be fun. Kind of like a little brother that Buck never had. 

Bobby sees him over by the bus, and Buck surveys the space for the new guy as he bounds over to him.

“Hey, Cap,” he greets. “Have you met the new guy yet? Is he competent, at least?”

Bobby laughs. “More than competent. He spent a few years as an army medic. Station 6 wanted him bad, but I managed to convince him to come here instead- he’s just putting his stuff away. I think you’ll like him, Buck- hey, Diaz!”

It’s not the first time that Buck’s heard the name. It’s a common fucking name, especially in Southern California. He’s proud to say that his heart no longer skips a beat whenever he hears someone with Eddie’s name, and he doesn’t even need to take a second before he turns to the probie. 

The probie, who- 

Oh.

Looks exactly like Eddie fucking Diaz. 

Something seizes deep inside his chest, and Buck chokes on nothing, his face screwing up before he has the chance to fix it. Buck can feel his pulse in his temple, and when he makes eye contact with Eddie, he can’t help it. He’s sixteen years old again. 

He doesn’t even look surprised, walking toward the two of them, eyes locked on Buck’s. It’s not fair, because Buck can’t breathe.

Eddie clears his throat, smiling at him, all soft and anticipatory as Bobby eyes the two of them, looking back and forth.

“Hey, Evan,” Eddie says, softly. 

God, he even sounds the same. 

“Eddie, this is Evan Buckley, one of our best firefighters,” Bobby says. “But I don’t need to tell you that, apparently.”

Eddie chuckles, looking at Bobby before looking back at Buck, hands in his pockets. There’s an air of awkwardness between the two of them- Eddie doesn’t seem to know whether to shake his hand or- or anything, really. Buck’s half surprised that Eddie hadn’t gone with reintroducing himself and pretending Buck never existed.

“Do you two know each other?” Chimney asks.

Eddie hesitates, looking back at Buck, and he can’t explain the pure rage that tears through his chest. 

“Not really,” Buck cuts in before Eddie can say anything. “Crossed paths. It was a long time ago. Good to see you, Diaz.” 

Turning on his heel, Buck bounds away, taking the stairs two at a time up to the loft. They’ll be doing introductions and that generally takes place downstairs, so as long as Buck steers clear of that general area, he should be fine to rot in his own misery. 

Ugh. 

He tries to think about how long it’s been since he’s seen Edmundo fucking Diaz. Long enough that Buck has grown exceptionally good at not thinking about him. Eight, nine years. Jesus fuck, it’s been nearly ten years and he’s still not over him. Buck knows he’s pathetic, but he genuinely thought it couldn’t have been this bad- it feels like every fucking ounce of anger he’s carried since meeting Eddie is boiling right below the surface. 

It’s stupid. Evan Buckley is fine , and he has absolutely no right to desire to be any more fine than he already is. 

Buck spent a really long time being lost- wandering, trying to find himself, find something he could truly commit to. And maybe it’s his own fault. His issues with his parents and the other faults he’s dug up along the way, but being at the 118 is the first time in years that Buck truly felt like he belonged. 

Not the same, though. 

Anger is still a feeling, despite what the patriarchy would have him believe. And Buck knows that he’s got too many feelings and nowhere to put them, complete opposite of his parents. 

Indifference. Apathy, which is the actual opposite of love, not hate. Actually, Buck happens to think that hate is a result of love. Everything Buck hates, with genuine, actual rage, is because of love. He hates his cousin who used to shove his sister around because he loves his sister. He hates that weird guy at the grocery store who keeps making Chimney uncomfortable.

He hates Eddie. He’s so angry with him- he wants to demand an answer. He wants to know where Eddie’s at, what he’s feeling, why he never called. He wants to know what Eddie’s been doing,  how the fuck he apparently became an army medic- 

He wants to know if Eddie still thinks about him- if Buck takes up any space in Eddie’s mind. He hates Eddie for the space Buck’s carved out in his. 

He’d take anything- anything, for someone he loved to somehow acknowledge his existence, and Eddie’s in the same building as Buck for the first time in years. 

Years of conflicting emotions and bittersweet memories Buck’s managed to keep safely locked away, and here was Eddie fucking Diaz, ready to turn his goddamn life upside down. Again. 

“Hey, man, what’s your deal?”

Buck loves Hen. Like, loves her so fucking much, would do anything for her, but right now he kind of wants to slam a door in her face. 

“I have no deal,” he says, shooting her a shit-eating grin. 

“Come on,” she says, leaning against the counter. “Tell me. Was he your high school bully? Does he eat baby pandas in his free time?”

Buck snorts, rolling his eyes. “No, nothing like that.” 

It’s not fair to make him out to be a bad guy, because even under all of that rage, Buck could never believe that Eddie was anything other than good. Eddie was always kind, put everything he had into the things that he cares about. 

If anyone knew that, it was Buck, and it just made him angrier. 

“Then what’s the deal?” she asks persistently. 

Ugh. Anger, but not at Hen- not at her. 

This is work. It’s work, and he can keep work at work. He chose to let Eddie Diaz into his life, and then he chose to step out of his life. He can stay out. Buck did it once, he’ll do it again. 

“It’s personal,” he tries. “And it was a million years ago, it just caught me by surprise. I got some stuff to work through.”

Understatement of the fucking century. 

Hen decides to leave him alone after that, and it was simultaneously exactly what Buck wanted while also breaking his damn heart. When he’s alone, his mind starts going and he can’t stop it, losing himself in spirals without any other distractions to pull him out. He didn’t want to be alone right now, but he needed to be. He can’t lash out, can’t fuck this up. He just can’t. 

“You know, you can’t avoid me forever,” Eddie says from somewhere over his shoulder, and every fucking feeling that Buck has been shoving down starts to bubble over. Slamming his locker shut, he turns to Eddie, arms crossed like a fucking child. 

“‘Hey, Evan?’” he asks in disbelief. “‘ Hey, Evan ?’ Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie ?” 

Eddie flushes. “I didn’t know you were going by Buck now.”

That’s so incredibly not the point that Buck can’t help but laugh.

“That makes sense,” Buck snaps. “You wouldn’t.” 

Eddie sighs sheepishly, a hand on the back of his neck. 

“I didn’t know you were working here,” Eddie says. “Not until after I applied, it’s- what are the odds that we both ended up in Los Angeles?” 

“Incredibly low, but I have shit luck, if you haven’t noticed.” 

When he sighs this time, it’s less sheepish, more of a reprimand. “Evan-”

“It’s Buck ,” he snaps. “I’m not- I’m not Evan anymore, okay? I’m not some stupid kid.”

“You were never a stupid kid,” Eddie says softly. 

“That’s not the fucking point,” Buck snaps. “Look. You don’t know me anymore, okay? You don’t .”

It hurts. Buck’s stuck between rage and fear, all this hurt boiling up, too taken aback to find a way to shut it down. It’s all too confusing. He doesn’t want to hurt Eddie, but he’s still angry with him. He has so much to say to him, but he can’t actually say anything at all. 

He’s so fucking grateful that Eddie’s alive, that he’s here. That he seems to be doing fine. 

God, Buck is so angry that Eddie Diaz is so fucking fine. 

“Do I need to transfer?” Eddie asks. “Are we going to be able to work together?”

Buck recoils at that. The implication that Buck is too emotional to be able to separate his work and home life, and he’s a little too pissed off to even consider that.

“I don’t have a problem,” Buck says. Snaps. 

“Great,” Eddie says shortly. “Neither do I.”

What the fuck. “Fine.”

“Yup,” Eddie says, shutting the door behind him on his way out. 

Buck’s going to break every single plate in the kitchen. 

~~~

It doesn’t surprise Buck in the slightest that Eddie’s a good paramedic. ‘Good’ is probably insulting- he’s got experience, nothing like Buck when he was a probationary firefighter. Level-headed under pressure and incredibly competent. 

Buck would never admit to this, but it’s almost comforting. Eddie’s still Eddie. Still capable, still annoying and bossy- he even takes over on a call where some dude literally had air blown up his ass. Fitting. 

It feels like a constant state of limbo, and Buck doesn’t know how to handle it. The smallest things, and Buck is thrown right back into a memory he was so determined to forget. He sees Eddie in the gym and remembers teaching him to lift. Watches him in the bus, looking out the window, and Buck is thrown back into a lazy Thursday afternoon with the same guy in a different car. Big moment, little, fleeting memory, it doesn’t matter. 

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t know how to act. He can’t even look at Eddie without feeling something ugly twisting deep inside his chest, and it only gets worse every damn time Eddie looks at him, all polite and proper. Completely professional, even when they find out that a fucking idiot shot a practice round into his damn leg. Buck hangs back- it’s medical, after all, and they don’t need him as much. He watches Eddie work, searching for any sign of distress. There aren’t any, and perhaps he’s awful for feeling even angrier.

Do you even care? Buck wants to beg. Does Eddie even know how fucking devastated Buck had been? 

Maybe it’s a good thing Eddie wasn’t saying anything. Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal for him- maybe Buck wasn’t that important. Maybe he built it all up in his head, or Buck was just pathetic. He doesn’t know Eddie anymore. He doesn’t know if he wants to. It was high school, after all- and if there’s one thing Buck knows, it’s that he was never as important to others as they were to him. 

God. He’s a mess. He’s a fucking mess, and it’s all Eddie’s fucking fault. 

“Diaz, Buckley, I want you two in the ambulance with him.”

Fucking Bobby. Glaring at him, Buck does his best to embody the standing man emoji while leaving Eddie to get the patient into the ambulance, trying to communicate how bad an idea this is and how much he needs to reconsider. For his own sanity, really, but Bobby won’t back down. 

“You’re going to need to learn to work with him at some point, Buck,” Bobby says. “We all work closely together.”

Buck doesn’t bother gracing him with a response before turning around, pulling himself into the bus, trying to stay out of Eddie’s way. 

He doesn’t acknowledge him, 

“You must have seen a lot of shrapnel wounds overseas,” Buck says. “You know. During the war.” Which you didn’t tell me about, by the way, he wants to add. But that would be both unprofessional and also really stupid. 

We don’t talk anymore, Evan, Eddie would say. What do you want from me? 

“Fair few,” Eddie says. “More gunshots, field amputations. Stuff like that.”

“We pulled a baby out of a pipe,” Buck says. “And decapitated a snake. And one of our guys got a length of rebar through his skull- like, this long.”

“What are we measuring here, Buck?” Eddie asks, a hint of challenge in his voice backed up by his eyes, and Buck loses all of his words. 

When Buck doesn’t answer, Eddie rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath when he goes back to tend to the idiot’s leg. He doesn’t really get why any veteran would collect evidence of all the damage they caused, but he supposes he’s not a veteran. Which, in his defense- Eddie is a veteran (apparently) and he looks even less amused than Buck is. 

 “Wait,” Eddie says, alarmed. “I thought you said this was a practice round.”

Idiot sits up a little, looking at the two of them dumbly. “It is.”

“Practice rounds are blue,” Eddie says, as they both look at the decidedly not-blue grenade. “Live rounds are gold. Hey- pull over, right now!”

The ambulance comes to an abrupt stop, and Buck hisses, doing his best to keep the gurney steady. The wheels are locked, so he presses down on Idiot, who’s started freaking out.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Buck says. “Look, we’re going to give you a sedative, okay? It’s very important that you stay as still as you can.”

Eddie’s already instructed the driver to step out of the bus carefully and drawn up the benzos, pushing it through his IV. As soon as he’s relatively stilled, calmed down, Eddie looks back up. 

“Get out,” he says. 

Buck stares at him. “What?”

“Get out,” Eddie repeats. “You shouldn’t be in here. There’s a live round in his leg, nobody should.”

“Then why the fuck are you staying?”

He sighs peevishly, looking back up before speaking, an edge to his voice. 

“I’m not, Evan,” Eddie says. “I’m going to finish sedating the patient and secure his leg, then I’ll get off, too, okay? I’m right behind you. Just go.” 

Fucking Eddie. He’s right, too, which is the worst. Buck is careful when he hops off the ambulance, making sure not to cause too much of a weight shift. The rest of the 118 is waiting a healthy distance back, but still worried. Buck jogs over to them, giving them the cliffnotes. Still eyeing the ambulance, Buck tries to shove down how anxious he feels. He wants Eddie out of the bus, and when he makes it out safely, Buck tries to shove down the relief. 

“What’s going on in there?” Bobby asks. 

It rubs Buck the wrong way. He literally just told Bobby what was going on, what the fuck-

Look. The rational part of his brain tells Buck to shut the hell up, to understand the obvious. It’s not personal. Eddie was in there for longer than Buck was, he wants the full perspective, and Buck needs to stop proving Eddie right about not being able to do his damn job. 

“It’s not good,” Eddie says. “He’s bleeding, and it won’t stop- the grenade is only partially loaded.”

“Wait, wait,” he says. “What are you talking about? What does that mean?”

Eddie looks at him, his eyes twitching. “There are two triggers in a grenade. One that discharges it, and one that makes it go boom.” 

Asshole. “So why didn’t it go boom?”

“It’s set off by distance,” Eddie explains. “From the gun on his lap to lodged in his leg probably wasn’t far enough to trigger it.” 

“Bomb squad will be here in about an hour?” Bobby says. “They’re returning from a call further inland.”

“That guy doesn’t have an hour,” Buck insists. They need to figure something else out. 

“I can do it,” Eddie says simply. Like they’re asking him to change a fucking lightbulb.

“Have you done this before?” Buck asks in disbelief. He has no idea what Eddie’s been up to these past eight years and his list of questions is ever growing. 

“None of the guys I served with were ever stupid enough to shoot a live round in their leg, but I’m familiar with the mechanism,” Eddie says. 

It might sound matter-of-fact to everyone else, but Buck reads the sarcasm from a mile away. It’s another reminder of the whole Evan-and-Eddie thing- the reason why they became friends in the first place, because of how well they worked together. Eddie was the first person he’d ever known who really got him. He didn’t need to explain himself in excruciating detail or apologize for not making sense. It’s the kind of communication that might save lives, especially in scenarios like this. 

Buck might hate the guy, but he’d hate him more if he were dead. 

“I’m in,” he says, before he can stop himself. 

Eddie doesn’t even look surprised. Bobby’s expression has shifted just enough to be worrisome, so he ignores Eddie in favor of smirking at Bobby. “Gotta learn to work with him sometime, right? Turns out we might be getting real close.”

Bobby rolls his eyes. He’s already dismissing him, so Buck can rot in the dramatic irony of his own joke. Eddie would have rolled his eyes, too, but it’s Buck’s life that’s cruel and stupid, okay? If he makes stupid jokes to get through the day, that's nobody’s business but his own. 

The bomb jacket is a lot heavier than he thought it would be. If he tries hard enough, he can convince himself that’s why breathing gets a bit harder the second they’re back in the bus. 

“It’s okay,” Eddie murmurs to him as he finishes strapping his gloves on. “We’ve got this, Evan.”

Any other time, any other person, it would have been the wrong thing to say. 

Carefully getting back onto the bus, Buck goes where Eddie leads him, deferring to him completely. He might not know Eddie anymore, but even the Eddie he knew was much more level-headed than Buck ever was. 

Bomb squad provided them with a box to minimize the blast radius, so Buck leaves it in his lap while keeping the gurney and the patient as steady and stable as possible. Buck has been trying his hardest not to stare, but he figures he has an excuse now. Eddie takes a deep breath before carefully sliding the tool into the idiot’s leg. 

“The distance is measured by the number of rotations the grenade has taken,” he breathes out, tongue caught between his teeth. “So… the key, is to keep it from rotating any further…”

Buck waits with bated breath, keeping the leg steady, applying the right amount of resistance so Eddie can gently tug it out. 

“Box,” Eddie orders, and Buck is quick to let go of the patient, holding the box up for Eddie, who gently places it down- Buck shuts the lid the second he’s cleared, sliding the lock closed. Buck laughs incredulously, looking back up at Eddie before he can even think about it, who’s smiling right back at him. 

“We did it,” Buck says, still tense. “I’m gonna put the box down, you- you take the patient.”

“Copy,” Eddie says, smiling at him once more before his eyes drop down to the gurney, and Buck has to gather himself enough to keep the box level, steady, keep the round from rolling. By the time he’s set it down on the bench, Eddie’s got the patient gurney rolled over to the door, and Buck comes to the head to help him lift it down. 

“You got it?” Buck checks, and Eddie hums in affirmation. 

Frankly, it feels anticlimactic. They literally just risked their lives to remove a live grenade from a real-life idiot, and here they are. Pushing a gurney to a different ambulance, something Buck’s already done a hundred times.

Still, though, Buck hadn’t realized how badly he needed an outlet for his adrenaline. Every ounce of terror and frustration and rage he’d been feeling bled out with the stress of the moment, and it makes it a lot easier when Bobby smiles at them, tells them they did a good job.

“Aw, it was nothing, Cap,” Buck smiles. “Guy’s a professional, I was never really worried.” 

Hen and Chim get the patient squared away while Buck and Eddie start removing the heavy bomb gear. It’s almost as heavy as their full turnouts, to Buck’s surprise. 

“You did great.”

Dumbly, Buck looks up halfway through a velcro strap to a familiar grin, Eddie’s eyes shining. “What?”

Stupid fucking eyes. Always had Buck so fucking weak, and he knows it, too. 

“Good work in there,” Eddie says. “You’re a badass under pressure, brother.”

Freudian nickname aside, Buck can’t ignore the way that something in him starts screaming. 

“M-me?” he says stupidly, trying to ignore the way Eddie’s eyes sparkle with the tiniest hint of mischief, clearly enjoying the way he’s made Buck trip over his fucking words.  

“Hell, yeah,” Eddie says. “You can have my back any day.”

It’s an olive branch. One that Eddie really didn’t need to extend, not after the way Buck treated him this morning. 

“Yeah,” Buck breathes out. “Or- you know. You could have mine.” 

Eddie chuckles. Unstrapping his gloves, Buck flushes, looking back at Bobby. He doesn’t know what to say. Eddie doesn't look like he’s gonna say anything, so it’s all on Bobby to break the moment-

“ Jesus .”

When the bus explodes, Buck somehow isn’t expecting it. Not like he forgot that there was a live round in there, but it was still a surprise. Bobby jumps too, so maybe it’s not Buck’s fault- but Eddie just stands there, watches, like they’re watching someone cross an empty street. 

Dumbfounded, Buck stares at Eddie until he looks back at him, smirking. 

“You guys hungry?” he asks.

Fuck. Buck is so fucking screwed. 

~~

After the initial tension, things were much easier with Eddie. Buck doesn’t really know who he was trying to fool. Himself, probably. 

He couldn’t help himself. There was something about Eddie Diaz’s presence that Buck could never stay away from. Before he realized he was bisexual, he thought that it was just admiration. Much less embarrassing than whatever he’s feeling now. 

It’s easy to fall back into it with him- talking, laughing. They trade war stories, but avoid any mention of their history, but Buck is too scared to disrupt their newfound truce with old damage. 

This works, he can convince himself. They can be friends. Just friends, that’s all. 

“So, what have you been up to?” Buck asks. “Got a boyfriend at home?”

Eddie scoffs. “A boyfriend?”

Uh. “Yeah?”

“I’m not gay , Evan.” 

He should definitely be more offended by the way that Eddie spits it out. Gay. Like Buck had called him a pedophile. The hurt is definitely there, but it’s overpowered by his confusion, and the flood of memories that would say otherwise. 

Buck’s not even talking about the sex. Like, yeah, it’s definitely pretty gay to put your dick in another dude’s ass, but that wasn’t even the gayest thing about him. 

He doesn’t have time to get into it before Bobby’s serving lunch. Buck tries not to stare, but the tension in Eddie's shoulders melts away as they get lost in conversation, still trying to get to know the new guy. It's kind of amazing, actually. His compartmentalization. The way Eddie can just scrub away any negative feelings that Buck swears were there, a few minutes (or years) ago.

“So, wait. How did you two know each other?” Hen asks. "I thought you went to high school in Pennsylvania, Buck, but Eddie's from Texas."

“I did,” he says modestly. “I graduated in Hershey, but I went to La Salle until the second half of my junior year.” 

“You transferred in the middle of the year?” Chimney asks. “That must have been difficult. Why’d you leave?”

Fuck. 

Eddie tenses up. He’s been more than happy to let Buck take the lead on explanations, but this definitely feels like uncharted waters. 

When Eddie looks at him, Buck could swear he was curious. Like he wanted to know the answer, too, and that made absolutely zero sense. There’s a neon sign. Eddie is the neon sign. 

"My parents," Buck says, trying to stay casual. "Work stuff." 

He hasn't spoken much about Margaret or Phillip, but it's enough of a nonanswer for them to get off his back. Surface-level conversation is suffocating, sometimes, but Buck finds himself intensely grateful for the social grace as it gives them enough of an excuse to stay vague. He's not opposed to sharing the story, but apparently, Eddie's story is very different from his. Buck is still reeling from the thought that the most intense relationship in his life was, to the other guy, not a relationship at all. 

Buck manages to clear his plate, taking a bunch of them to rinse over by the dishwasher, and Eddie follows him. Which is annoying at first, but with everyone else at the table, Buck can't stop himself.

“Uh, hey,” Buck says, doing his best not to come off accusatory. “I just wanted to revisit the whole ‘not gay’ thing.” 

“What about it?” Eddie asks.

”Um,” Buck flounders. “Is it just that you don’t want to come out at work, or is something else going on? Why did you say you’re not gay?”

“I’m not gay,” Eddie says.

Is this an episode of the twilight zone or Black Mirror? What the fuck is going on? 

“So what do you usually tell people?” Buck asks awkwardly.

Eddie glares at him. Buck swears he can see him build another wall right in front of his damn eyes. 

“About what?” Eddie says, all snide. 

“Like, do you just say you’re roommates? Or best friends? Like, the Iliad style?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie says, with all the confidence in the world. The casual tone is betrayed by his deliberate lack of eye contact, and the way he's scrubbing too hard.

They’re alone. Nobody else is around, and it’s the only reason Buck asks. 

“Eds, am I the only guy you’ve ever dated?”

“We weren’t dating, Evan,” Eddie says forcefully. “We were just messing around. I never asked you, you never asked me.” 

Buck thinks his eyes might be permanently stuck at the back of his head after this conversation. 

“Am I the only guy you’ve ‘messed around’ with, then?”

Eddie glares at nothing. 

“Yes.” 

Okay. Well.

Buck has no idea what to say to that, so he's a little grateful when the tones start going off. Whatever divine entity might be out there finally decided to take pity on him. 

Chapter Text

It’s been a while since Buck had thought this much about high school. 

Moving to Texas wasn’t a super thorough choice, but his parents had suggested he go live with a distant family friend his freshman year. Since Maddie wasn’t in Pennsylvania anymore, they had completely checked out. Turns out parenting was something you could indeed just give up on. 

Buck was still in the phase where his attention seeking behaviors were less destructive, more overachieving, so he figured it would be a grand show of independence. 

He was wrong about a lot of things back then. 

Looking at his life now, though- Buck remembers in school, doing all of those stupid essays and presentations about where they had wanted to be in ten years. Frankly, Buck doesn’t even remember what he’d said, but he knows that Evan Buckley the high school freshman would probably be very confused at the Buck he was, today. Not in a distasteful way, just confused. Buck had no fucking idea who he was back then. Hell, he still doesn’t.

Evan Buckley the sophomore, on the other hand, would be looking at the carefully measured two feet between him and Eddie Diaz and possibly have a conniption.

It’s been nice. Working with Eddie- seeing him again. Buck’s always missed the structure of public school. Making friends was easy because they were forced to be in each other’s proximity. (Friendships might have been made of convenience, but Buck didn’t really care. People are better than no people.)

The 118 is similar. They spend so much time with each other they’re just as bound to feel affection as they are annoyance, being bunched in tight quarters. He and Eddie spend nearly 60 hours with each other a week, and there’s no way for Buck to avoid the inevitable. He’s going to have to Think About this. Think about… them. Buck and Eddie. Eddie and Buck- no, Buck and Eddie.

The world has shifted, just a little. Everything is slightly out of whack and he’s having a hard time getting his bearings. For one thing, Buck and Eddie are still Buck and Eddie. He likes spending time with him, and he’s a damn good partner on the job. They laugh and make fun of each other, greet each other and say goodbye. They catch up. Small talk- they’re talking about the fucking weather and restaurants that Eddie’s tried, but that’s it. They’re work friends. Coworkers. What the fuck. 

Buck doesn’t really know how to be acquaintances. He doesn’t know how to have halfway friendships, which is bizarre considering that’s all he had after Eddie. But maybe that’s the problem- it’s Eddie . Buck never felt normal about Eddie, and he doesn’t know how to act. When they greet each other, it’s a quick nod of the head. Perfunctory smiles, surface level questions. 

Buck doesn’t want that. Eddie waves him over and Buck wants to take his hand. They sit on the couch and Buck feels actual hate for the space between them. Eddie says he’s heading to the bunks, and Buck remembers a time where Eddie would’ve expected Buck to follow him. 

He knows what it feels like to have more. Days pass, and then weeks, and they don’t talk about it. Although, in Eddie’s defense, they’re not talking about anything real. After his puffy-spine cat move at the pool table, his personal life has remained incredibly off limits, and Buck is suffocating in his own curiosity.

I’m not gay, Evan.

Buck’s never been super adaptable, but his frontal lobe is really dragging with this one- trying to recontextualize their relationship in a platonic manner, something that would make Eddie not-gay. Maybe it’s an unfair expectation, but Buck really doesn’t have time to be occupied with reassessing their entire relationship. Friendship. Whateverthefuck, but that’s the fucking problem. Eddie’s not his friend.

The other alternative is that Buck was just an experiment. Eddie had tried it with Buck, realized it wasn’t for him, which would invalidate everything they had.

That would mean Eddie had never loved him, and Buck just- he couldn’t stomach that. 

He’s been trying, okay? Actually, genuinely trying to reframe every interaction he could remember in a heterosexual manner. Even if Buck made it a habit to sleep in his best friends’ beds, he definitely didn’t make out with them. He doesn’t know how to look at Eddie and pretend like they don’t know each other. Not just as friends, or as people who crossed paths. Buck knows Eddie. He knows how Eddie likes to bite at his lips when they’re kissing, little nips with his teeth. Buck knows how Eddie’s jaw clenches when he’s trying not to cry, even when his eyes shine with tears. Buck had never wanted anything more than to know Eddie. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Eddie was repressed. Buck’s always known that- super traditional Mexican family, very traditional values. Eddie didn’t like talking about it (or, you know. anything) but it was always there. Looming, like a half-dead mockingbird on his shoulder. 

Still, though, there were always moments. Eddie was as open as he could possibly be with Buck. It took some coaxing, but all of that pressure was building up and it had to go somewhere. Buck was so proud to be someone safe enough for Eddie to open up to- be someone Eddie allowed himself to need . 

Now, though, he can’t even get close enough to try. He knows what Eddie looks like when he’s distant, and he can feel their buckandeddie-ness unraveling right in front of his eyes.

The thought is enough to drive him insane, but he’s also completely aware that he has nothing to be insane about. Jesus Christ, he hasn’t seen Eddie in ten years. How the fuck can he justify feeling like this over someone he barely knows anymore?

It’s all stupid. All of it, getting twisted up inside of his head before he manages to shove it down, all of it, bury it under work. He’s not hooking up with random people, though, and he doesn’t care what anyone else might say. That’s progress.

“Oh, no,” he hears from over his shoulder. “Who gave that guy a clipboard?”

Blinking quickly, Buck plasters a smirk on his face before turning around, waving it at Hen, who’s walking over with Chimney. And Eddie, because of course. He’s everywhere.

“It’s inventory day,” Buck says belatedly. “So you guys better watch out.”

“For what?” Eddie asks, amused.

“A whole new side of Buck comes out with the clipboard,” Hen explains. “You wouldn’t think someone like him would be this organized in planner mode.

Eddie snorts, dumping his duffle bag. “Buck never told you guys about his stint on student counsel?”

His heart skips a beat. Eddie’s not looking at him, and he needs to school his face before anyone else notices. He has no idea why Eddie would bring that up. 

“ What ?” Hen says in disbelief. Chim laughs incredulously, and every single person in the room seems to tune in. 

“Hey, it was not a stint ,” Buck says, offended. “I was on council for the entire freshman year.” Ironically, the longest he’d ever committed to anything. Including Eddie. 

“No way,” Chimney says. “There’s no way you did student council.”

“Student council is basically a popularity contest,” Eddie says, closing his locker. “And Buck was very popular.” 

Yeah, they definitely remember high school differently. 

“He planned our homecoming,” Eddie explains. “First freshman to do that at La Salle. I don’t think that clipboard left his hands for the entire week. I had to hide it just to get him to sit through dinner.” 

Buck knows exactly what dinner Eddie is talking about, and he squawks indignantly.

“It was the night before,” Buck stresses. “I had to make sure everything was perfect. The whole high school went to homecoming!”

“How long had you been planning it?” Eddie asks, raising his stupid brow. 

Uh. 

“Months?” Eddie asks.

“I- yeah.”

“You had everything in place? Vendors confirmed, volunteers scheduled?”

What the fuck? “You know I did.” 

“So there was nothing more to do,” Eddie says, with that stupid I-told-you-so voice. “You had everything set up, Buck. You needed to sit down and eat a damn dinner, I’m not sorry for hiding it.”

Buck groans. 

This was a completely inappropriate situation to be panicking, but Buck couldn’t help it. He tries to maintain his general aloofness, but it feels like every muscle in his body is tensing. Eddie’s telling stories about high school, which is fair. They’re curious about how Buck and Eddie met.

But this story? Homecoming ? Eddie can’t tell this story. Unless he leaves it out- and actually, on second thought, that is apparently Eddie’s prerogative. Buck just doesn’t know what topics are off limits. What, specifically, are they choosing to forget?

“So Buck planned your homecoming and it wasn’t a complete disaster?” Chimney asks. 

“It was actually great,” Eddie says, smiling. “Based on that Gatsby book.”

“Great Gatsby,” Buck interrupts. “And it was just roaring 20s, but that was the only frame of reference I could give to high school kids.”

“Roaring 20s,” Eddie corrects. “He spent hours just researching, so determined to have a historically accurate prom. Even our food was from the 20s- pineapple upside down cake, ribbon sandwiches, candle salads.” 

Buck was just getting more confused. Details. He’s giving them details.

“Why did you kill that part of yourself?” Hen laughs. “What happened to responsible Buck?”

His smile freezes.

There wasn’t really a good time to explain the nuances of Buck’s childhood to his coworkers. 

It would be a little simpler if there was One Bad Thing. A big trauma to explain it, but there wasn’t. There wasn’t a deeper reason, nothing beyond the fact that his parents just didn’t like him, and he doesn’t want to go into that. He knows it’s his fault, after all, that he stopped trying- but after Eddie, he

“I don’t know,” Buck says truthfully. “It’s not like it mattered, anyway.”

Eddie snorts. “That’s bullshit.” 

Buck doesn’t know if Eddie meant for it to come out as harsh as it did. Everyone is looking at him sideways, but he doesn’t seem to notice, still looking at Buck. 

“That’s still who you are,” Eddie says. “You put everything you have into your job, Buck. And your friends. That’s who you are.” 

If every nerve ending in his body wasn’t already on fire, it would send him into panic mode. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Buck says, trying to laugh. "I drive you guys crazy with my irresponsible calls in the field."

“You don’t need to make everything perfect,” Eddie says. “You don’t need to overcompensate. You’re allowed to make mistakes, Buck. You’ll still be you, and you are on our team. We need you just as much as you need us.” 

Bobby announces lunch from somewhere over Buck’s shoulder, which is just as well. He doesn’t have any words. 

It was just like Eddie, too. Buck forgot the sort of whiplash that came with being friends with Eddie Diaz. He just drops a huge fucking bomb on him, turned around and acted like it was nothing. Casual familiarity forgiving their intimacy, but so starkly contrast with the way they've been ignoring everything else. 

That was something they used to struggle with- Eddie didn’t always know how to express affection, and Buck was insecure. 

Teenagers aren’t any sort of stable, but Buck genuinely didn’t know how to trust his own feelings. He’d always loved people more than they loved him, and it wasn’t a bad thing. Buck knew he had too many feelings and there just wasn’t enough room for them. It wasn’t fair to expect other people to be as insane as he is. 

Eddie was- okay. Buck can’t say that Eddie was ‘just like everyone else’ at first, because he really wasn’t. Buck couldn’t help noticing Eddie in every single room. He thought that his fixation was just admiration- I mean, how could he not admire him? - but he came to terms with his sexuality a literal month after moving out from Phillip and Margaret’s. 

“I’m starting to think you did more than just ‘cross paths,’” Hen says, living up to her name with that stupid Mother Hen gaze. “Are you going to tell us the truth?”

Buck isn’t the stoic, silent type. He’s not the kind of person to keep secrets- he’s been told he’s honest to a fault, but that’s precisely the problem. He has a history of vomiting up his feelings before he’s managed to piece them together, say things that he doesn’t mean, and he can’t do that here. 

It’s not just Buck’s story, after all. It’s Eddie’s, too, and Buck’s an unreliable narrator. He wants to tell her, but he just can’t. Not yet. 

“Ah, I don’t know,” Buck says, trying to keep smiling. “It was a long time ago.” 

Hen looks like she’s about to say something, but she cuts herself off when the ground starts to tremble.

Oh, good. Buck would feel bad later for how grateful he was that an earthquake interrupted this hellish party, but that's a later Buck problem. Whatever divine entity out there was on Buck’s side for now. 

Chapter Text

Buck hadn’t experienced an earthquake before moving to California.

Well. That’s only partially true- there were a few when he lived in Peru, but nothing serious enough to cause actual destruction. Don't get him wrong, living right on the ring of fire has its perks. Buck likes the beach, and he’s not complaining about the weather. Maybe he misses snow, but he sure as hell doesn’t miss driving in it. 

It’s easy to forget about the implications of living on the Pacific ocean until they’re punching you in the face, or in this case, literally pulling the ground out from underneath him. Buck grits his teeth, low to the ground, riding the waves out. 

When the shaking finally stops, Buck releases his iron grip, feeling his adrenaline start to course through his body. They don’t have a richter scale in here anymore, but Buck is guessing it was at least a 6. 

His radio buzzes, and Bobby’s voice comes through. “118, call out. Diaz?”

Buck doesn’t have time to process how his chest squeezes, panicked, before Eddie’s voice comes through his radio. 

“All clear, Cap.” 

Bobby makes his way down the roster until he gets to Buck, and he finds the button, squeezing. Take a deep breath. He’s fine, they’re all fine. “Buckley. All clear.” 

Logically, Buck knows that being desensitized isn’t exactly a good thing. First responders know the important of reflexes and bodily reactions- it can be annoying the way his hands shake, but it’s necessary. 

Luckily, though, they’re also trained how to calm themselves down. The ground isn’t shaking anymore and Buck needs to calm down. He can’t be useful if he’s panicking. 

He manages to get himself down, making his way to the loft. The structure itself is fine, just some messy furniture and random items laying askew- except for the bench. Buck’s eyes widen when he sees Hen and Eddie standing next to the locker room, the glass wall shattered by the stupid bench nobody had thought to weigh down. 

Hen hears him coming, turning to him. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Buck says. Eddie turns when he hears his voice, and Buck can’t help but check them for injuries. “What about you? What happened?”

“The bench cracked the wall,” Eddie says. “We’re fine, just some scratches from the glass.”

“Okay,” Buck says, trying not to squeak. “Okay, good.” 

Bobby calls out somewhere behind them, requiring that everyone do a perfunctory check before heading out on the rigs. Emergency units are all just waiting to hear from dispatch. 

“Phones are out,” Hen says. “I’ve been trying to call Karen. No service.” 

Bobby sighs, looking over his shoulder, as if he could somehow survey the chaos, figure out where they’re needed with his own eyes. 

“I’ll work on it,” Bobby says. “Everyone, get checked out, and then get ready to go.”

~~~

Without phone service, it takes a while to get in touch with dispatch. They can’t just sit on their hands, though, and Bobby makes everyone check and double-check their radios before heading out. When dispatch finally gets in touch, they send them over to a partial building collapse on the other side of the neighborhood. 

“They’re sending us to the Prism?” Chimney says doubtfully. “Must be bad.” 

Buck peers out the windows, surveying the chaos. They’d gotten an official read- a 7.1 earthquake, the highest Buck’s ever experienced. 

There’s tension in the rig. Everyone is dealing with the lingering adrenaline, all pent up with nowhere to go. Buck can’t sit still, and he watches as Chimney fidgets with his helmet, Hen with her glasses. The sirens feel a little louder than usual. 

Eddie’s clicking around on his phone, and Buck can’t figure out why. He seems to be hitting the same buttons, over and over again, jaw tense, brows furrowed. Buck looks back and forth between the rest of them, but nobody’s even noticed. 

Eddie taps something again before grumbling under his breath. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” Buck asks. 

“Yeah, there’s no service,” Eddie says. 

They knew that already. Buck isn’t any less confused. 

“Who’re you trying to get a hold of?” he asks carefully. 

Eddie hesitates for a moment too long. He purposely doesn’t look at Buck, dicking around on his phone for a few seconds before clearing his throat. 

“My son,” Eddie says. “I’m trying to reach my son.”

What. 

“Whoa, you got a kid ?” Buck blurts out.

Eddie’s face softens, and he shows Buck his home screen. 

“His name’s Christopher.”

“And he’s super adorable!” Buck says, trying to process. He was expecting a secret lover or some kind of ill family member- Eddie has family in California, he remembers. “How old?”

Eddie’s eyes flicker away. His expression shifts, just slightly. It’s painfully familiar, something Buck had seen a dozen times before. 

“Seven,” Eddie says clearly. “He’s seven.”

What . 

“Our boys are around the same age,” Hen says. “We’ll definitely need to set up a playdate.” 

“You manage to get in touch with him?” Eddie asks, and Hen’s eyes soften. 

“No, but he’s spending the day with my wife,” Hen says. “He wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

Eddie swallows heavily, nodding. “Good. That’s good.” 

His heart sinks. Eddie still dicks around on his phone. Buck knows that he knows- Eddie won’t be able to get through, but he needs to try. He can’t stop trying, even when it’s helpless, and it makes so much sense. 

When they pull up to the Prism, Buck hops out before he can say anything. He doesn’t have to say anything, right? Just because Buck cares about what Eddie thinks doesn’t mean that he could give a single fuck. 

“There are some civilians up there, can you see them?” Bobby asks. 

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Look, the ladder will reach up to there- you see the open panel? We can get in through there.”

“Fine. Take Eddie,” Bobby says, before turning away to keep running command. Buck nods before heading toward the truck, expecting Eddie to follow him. 

He doesn’t look at him- he doesn’t really know how to. It’s not the time. 

“You have a problem?” Eddie asks, not looking at him. 

Maybe Buck is imagining the way his voice shakes.

“What?” 

“What, you don’t like kids?” Eddie asks. 

It was so very far from what Buck was expecting that he almost laughs. It’s a show of his self control, that he doesn’t. 

“I love kids,” Buck says weakly. 

Eddie isn’t answering him. He’s actually not even looking at Buck, ignoring his presence altogether, and it’s pissing him off. 

“What, are you serious?” Buck asks. “Eddie, I just found out you had a son a year after we broke up and I’m not allowed to take a minute to be surprised by that?” 

He didn’t mean to say that- call it a break up in front of someone who doesn’t even remember them being together in the first place, but Eddie doesn’t even flinch. He just watches him, those intense, wet eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, you get a minute,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I- yeah.” 

“I love kids,” Buck repeats, because he doesn’t know what else to say- he wants to push, ask Eddie what he’s talking about, because he’s almost certain that it’s not about Buck’s general likeness towards children. Eddie barely told them anything about his son. There isn’t even enough information about the kid for him to dislike. 

Eddie manages to get himself buckled, yanking at his gloves before sighing. “Yeah. Well, I love this one.” 

He’s quiet, but not nervous. His voice isn’t shaking anymore, and it’s falling from tense back to awkward. There’s nothing left for either of them to say, not if they want to maintain this careful distance, but he has to trust this. They’re work partners, and they don’t have any room not to trust each other. 

“Hey,” Buck says. “My minute is done. We’re gonna do this, right?”

“Of course,” Eddie says. “I’ve got your back.” 

Following Eddie up the ladder, they’re quiet. Eddie calls out as necessary, but he’s still quiet, and Buck doesn’t know whether he trusts the low levels of anxiety he’s getting from Eddie. There was a time where Buck knew Eddie. Buck wouldn’t ever second-guess his own read on Eddie. He spent way too much time with him for that to even be an option. The weird sense of limbo is persisting, even in this. Buck doesn’t have any claim to Eddie’s feelings anymore. People change. They grow up, have kids. 

Still, though. Eddie’s jaw clenches, and his eyes are flat, and Buck just found out that Eddie has a son. A child, who he can’t get in contact with, in the middle of an earthquake. 

It’d be a reasonable assumption for anyone. This has nothing to do with how well Buck knows him, and a sense of shame stings. This isn’t about you, Evan. 

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he says, pulling the bar out of his harness. 

His heart catches in his throat. Blurting out some quick facts about public schools and their safety reinforcements, some stuff he learned from safety manuals, and other random bits of information he could recall. He’s rambling, and they don’t have time for rambling. 

“Your son’s in the safest place he could possibly be,” Buck finishes lamely. “And we’re gonna get you home to him.” 

Eddie’s managed to rig the opening, make it safe enough for them to climb in. He doesn’t answer for long enough that Buck’s starting to wonder if Eddie just tuned him out. But Eddie gets him unbuckled from the  ladder, shifting their gear before clapping his hand on Buck’s shoulder, dropping it as soon as it’s there. 

“Thanks,” he says softly, and Buck smiles.
“I’ve got your back,” Buck says. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

~~~

Search and rescue is probably the most important work they do, but it’s also the most exhausting. They stay in constant limbo all day, on edge, grappling with the anxiety upon finding someone, not knowing if they’re a body or a corpse. 

Still, though. At the end of these bad days, Buck feels the weight of every single body they couldn’t get to in time. Logically, he knows there’s nothing he can do. Natural disasters are out of his hands, but that doesn’t change the fact that he still wants . He wants to be better, wants to help more. 

It’s rewarding, of course. First responders cling on to their success stories, even the good parts of their failures. It’s the only thing that brings them back to work the next morning. 

Most of them have families to get home to, so they’re out of the lockers quicker than usual. They say their goodbyes and rush out. 

Buck doesn’t have anyone to go home to, but he’s still ready to get out of here.

When he gets to the parking lot, there are only a few cars remaining from their shift, replaced by the rest of C shift. 

Buck makes it halfway to his car before hearing Eddie- he’s parked in a different spot than usual, over by the side of the building, almost shrouded in shadow. He doesn’t look happy. Eddie growls, and Buck follows his gaze to the tree that has fallen square in the middle of Eddie’s truck. Today is really not his day. Buck watches as Eddie surveys the car, can practically see the tension increase as he tries to figure out exactly how the fuck he’s going to work around this. 

“You okay?” Buck asks. Stupid question.

“Christopher has already been alone for hours,” Eddie says, so fucking tense. “I- my abuela doesn’t drive and Tia Pepa has to stay with her, and we don’t have any other family here, and I still need to get home -”

“I’ll take you,” Buck says immediately.

Eddie pauses in his tirade, confused. “What?”

Rolling his eyes, he gestures out to his car. “I’ll take you to pick up your son.” 

“Buck, you don’t have to do that,” Eddie says, and Buck feels the slightest hint of doubt. They’ve been okay. It’s been nice, having Eddie back in his life again, and he doesn’t want to fuck everything up by overstepping. 

But this is Eddie’s son. It’s his son, and Buck knows that getting to him must be more important than anything else.

“I know,” he says. “Hurry up. I’m hungry.” 

Turning on his heel, Buck strides over to his Jeep, unlocking it. He tosses his bag in the backseat through the passenger side, leaving it open when he gets in on the driver’s side. 

The open door is- well. He literally left the door open. The door is open, Eddie, just walk on through. 

Through the mirror, Buck can just barely see him. He stares at the open door, completely still for an entire five seconds before he turns back to his truck. Buck feels something painful welling in his throat, trying to swallow it down. Eddie’s turning him down. The alternative is always better than going with Buck- than letting him in, again-

Except then Eddie turns back around, jogging toward the car, a carseat in hand and Buck is an idiot. 

This is Eddie’s son. Buck knows Eddie’s a good dad- he knows.

Buck’s finally managed to hook his car up with CarPlay, so he navigates through his playlists until pulling up a rock’n’roll playlist, handing his phone to Eddie for him to plug the address in. He heads toward the general direction of Eddie’s neighborhood, and Eddie puts his phone down once maps has started talking, making up for the suffocating silence. 

The roads are still confusing, crowded- it’s not back to normal, yet, but Buck doesn’t care. 

They make it through three songs before Eddie sighs. 

“You’re not going to ask?” Eddie says, still staring resolutely out the window. 

Um. What the fuck. Buck doesn’t- this whole hot and cold thing, swinging between intense moments of connection and the general aloofness of the rest of the time, he hasn’t figured out where he stands. 

Buck looks over to him, but Eddie refuses to look back. “Wasn’t sure if it was my place.”

“It’s not.”

“Exactly,” Buck huffs. Contrasting their relationship now with the way they were, all those years ago- he’s kind of reeling. He doesn’t know how Eddie feels about him. He doesn’t trust that he knows how Eddie feels about anything. 

He’s quiet for another minute before he blurts it out. 

“You remember Shannon?” Eddie asks. 

“Your elementary school friend who you slept with the day before we broke up?” Buck asks sarcastically. “Nope.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yeah. She’s his mother, but she’s not in the picture. We dated for a while. Got married when she got pregnant. Christopher was diagnosed with cerebral palsy while I was overseas. She served me a month after I returned from deployment.”

The way Eddie says that makes it sound like it was nothing. Not indifferent, but detached, like Eddie’s been keeping it at a distance. Maybe it does matter, but maybe it doesn’t. 

“That sounds awful, Eds,” Buck says. “I’m sorry.” 

Eddie shrugs, leaning forward as Christopher’s school comes into view.

“It’s alright. We weren’t right for each other.” 

Well. Buck could have told him that.

Pulling up to the school, Buck’s barely shifted into park and Eddie’s already out of the car, running into the school. He can just about see through the glass to where an adult is sitting with a younger kid with curly brown hair and red crutches, so happy to see Eddie. He’s by his side in seconds, hugging that little boy, so fucking gentle. 

It’s not like Buck didn’t believe him earlier, but seeing it in front of him is an entirely different experience. Eddie has a son . 

He suddenly feels a little silly at the idea that Eddie would ever put their stupid feud ahead of his son. Eddie was a good parent. He had to be, because even if people change, they don’t change. He’s a good person, and it makes so much sense that he’d be a good dad. 

Eddie gives him a piggy-back ride on the way out, and Christopher is smiling, so happy. 

Yeah. He’s a good dad. 

When Eddie opens the door, picking Christopher up, he manages to get himself settled in the seat. 

“Christopher, this is my friend, Buck,” Eddie says. “We work together.”

He can’t really let himself react to that right now. “Hey, buddy! It’s nice to meet you.”

“Buck!” Christopher says. Eddie shuts his door before coming back around to the passenger seat. “Buck, I have a question.” 

His curiosity is sweet, and Buck turns around. “What’s up?”

“Do you think dogs know we’re people?” Christopher asks. It’s a silly question, but it’s a damn good one. “Or do you think dogs think we’re just weird dogs?”

“Hm,” Buck says. “I think that most dogs are smart enough to know that we aren’t dogs, but I don’t think they know we’re people. I think that they just know we’re not dogs.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Chris says, excited. “But I think that dogs think hamsters are tiny dogs. And that they get confused when they can’t talk to each other.” 

Buck nods seriously. “They have the same types of bodies. I think that makes sense.” 

It’s a wonder that he’s still so happy, after the day he must have had. Buck remembers the latest he was ever stuck at school, waiting and waiting for someone to pick him up. He couldn’t figure out if they had forgotten or if they had something else going on. Eventually, he gave up, begging a ride from his friends. He didn’t see his parents until the next day. 

Maybe that’s the difference. Buck had been wondering if his parents were coming, but Christopher probably didn’t have to wonder. Buck’s barely spent ten seconds with the two of them, but he could practically feel how much Eddie loved his kid. 

By the time they’ve gotten to the address Eddie’s given him, it’s nearing 9:00 and Eddie starts Christopher’s bedtime routine. He insists on showing Buck his room first, but he’s already yawning. After Buck bids him goodnight, Eddie smiles over his shoulder, inviting Buck to hang out, letting him know there are beers in the fridge. Buck takes that as an invitation to stay. Maybe talk. Really talk. 

Pulling two beers out of Eddie’s fridge, Buck heads toward the living room, dropping into the corner of the couch. He pulls the top off his own, setting the other down in an ambiguous enough spot that Eddie could choose his seat. No pressure. None at all. 

A door closes from somewhere down the hallway, and Eddie shows up a few seconds later, snatching up the beer before dropping into the recliner. 

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbles into the beer. “For driving me. And for being so great with him.”

“Christopher is amazing,” Buck says. “He’s got so much of you in him.” 

“Nah,” Eddie says mildly. “He’s a good kid.” 

“He’s a great kid,” Buck agrees. “Because of you.” 

He shrugs, drinking half of his beer in one, long, swig. Buck does the same, eyes wandering. 

Eddie’s house wasn’t really what he was expecting. Everything in there is reliable, but without a lot of character- a stark contrast from Christopher’s room, which Eddie had filled with posters and pictures and all those toys. 

“I love my son,” Eddie says. “I’m really trying, you know. And I’ve been better! I’m getting better, I swear. Coming back from Afghanistan, everything was just so foggy. But then Shannon left and I didn’t have a choice, you know? I had to get my shit together.” 

Buck winces. He can’t imagine coping with the PTSD of war on top of learning how to be a father, and then how to be a single father, at that. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” Eddie admits. “I want to be a good father to him, but I don’t know how. I’m working 24 hour shifts and- I have family here, you know. My abuela and my Tia Josefina- Pepa.” 

All of the stories about the Diaz family are apparently still buried somewhere in Buck’s brain. Eddie loved his Abuela- she was one of the only adults that Eddie had considered being honest with. 

“And they’re willing to help, right?” Buck asks. 

“Of course,” Eddie says. “There’s nothing Abuela wouldn’t do for Christopher, but there are some things she just can’t. She’s old, Buck, and I can’t keep relying on her. It’s not fair. To her or to Christopher.” 

Even the way he says that is dripping in guilt, like he can’t bring himself to speak ill of his family. It’s not her fault, though, being old. It’s not Christopher’s for being a young child, but it’s not Eddie’s, either. 

Just a kid. 

God, Eddie was just a kid.

“I’ve tried,” Eddie says after Buck is quiet for too long. “I’ve been looking for more help. There are so many federal loans and programs which we’re eligible for after my service, but there’s all this red tape. If I apply for one program, I’m automatically disqualified from the others, and they all need different paperwork and diagnoses. I swear, I’ve been planning on sitting down and just going through all of it, but there’s always school and doctor’s appointments and homeworks and I’m just- I’m not smart enough to do this all. I can’t do it on my own.” 

“Eddie, this has nothing to do with how smart you are,” Buck says. “Single parents, especially ones with a job like yours, they need help. Hell, even married couples need help. Parenting isn’t easy.”

“I don’t want to keep failing him,” Eddie blurts out.

You’re not, Buck wants to insist, but Eddie wouldn’t believe it. It’s not what he needs to hear- at least, Buck doesn’t think. 

“Eddie,” Buck says, quiet, earnest. “You love him so much. I could feel it, being in the same room as the two of you. You’re providing for him, all on your own, doing everything you can to take care of him. You never stop trying to love him better. You’re bound to make some mistakes, but that’s inevitable, you know? You never stop trying. That’s what matters.” 

It’s what he would have said, a thousand years ago. 

Eddie’s heard countless stories about his absent parents, and Buck happens to know that the Diaz parents aren’t going to earn any awards any time soon. 

“I know bad parents,” Buck says. “I had bad parents. You’re not failing him, Eddie. You’re good, and you’re going to figure it out.”

The corner of his mouth, sharp canine teeth tugging gently at his lip, just a little bit, and Buck pretends the beer is what’s warming his stomach. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says, a little clearer than before. “I- uh. I think I needed to hear that.” 

Maybe he does know Eddie. 

After all, he loved him, once. A long time ago. 

You’re going to figure it out. 

Hell, Buck wishes he could help with that, but he’s woefully unfamiliar with disability rights and all of the military law. Eddie’s right, it’s a lot of red tape. He swears it’s meant to be confusing, and he'd never be able to navigate that without a little bit of help. 

Oh. 

“I should get home,” Buck says distantly. He doesn’t really want to leave, but he wants to make a call before it gets too late. "Um, would- do you think you'd be available around lunchtime, tomorrow?"

Eddie blinks. "Um. Yeah."

"Okay," Buck says. "Okay, I'll text you tomorrow morning. Thanks for the beer." 

Shit. Now that the seed is planted, his brain is going- overly active body, brain, but maybe something good might actually come out of it this time.

"Okay," Eddie says, standing up to walk him to the door. "Evan."

It slows him down, just for a second- long enough to make eye contact with Eddie, lose himself for a second. "Yeah?"

Eddie hesitates. Something more resolute passes over his face, pulling Buck into a quick hug, and god. Buck hadn't thought about what it was like to be held by Eddie Diaz in years. He couldn't.

"Thank you," Eddie says, and it's rigid. "Thanks."

When Eddie lets go, Buck steps back hastily, intent on not making Eddie uncomfortable. "Anytime."

He can't just sit in the driveway like a fucking creep, so he makes it a few blocks down before pulling into the parking lot of a public park, sending a quick text.

     hey! i'm sorry, i know it's late but I was hoping to call you before you go to bed?

[Carla]: Buck! Of course, honey!

Grinning at his phone, Buck quickly dials. 

“Buckaroo!” she says warmly. “It’s so great to hear from you.”

“Hey, Carla!” Buck says, looking in the general direction of Eddie's house. He can't even see it from here. “I, uh. I might have a job for you, if you’re interested.”

“For you? Anything,” she says. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

Buck would love to be a long story short type of person, but he’s really not. He’s incapable of not elaborating, so he launches into the story about his high school friend and his situation, single father of a kid with CP who deserves all of the support he can get. 

“Oh, Buck,” Carla says. “That’s so sweet of you to reach out to me for help.”
“Well, you are red tape’s worst nightmare,” Buck jokes. “Just trying to be a good friend.”

“Is that what he is?” Carla asks. “Just your friend?”

Fuck. “Um. W-why?” That’s a weird question for her to ask, right?

“You’re going above and beyond for him,” Carla says. “I can hear in your voice. You care about him.”

Fuck. Fuck.

“I do, but we’re just coworkers,” Buck says. “Friends. He’s a good guy, he deserves-”

Happiness? Joy? Something real ?

“He deserves someone as good as you in his corner,” Buck finishes. “Will you meet with us? Tomorrow?”

“Okay, Buck,” Carla acquiesces. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” 

Chapter Text

Buck genuinely had no idea what he was thinking. 

Objectively, logically speaking, this is not a bad idea. Introducing Carla to Eddie is quite literally the best thing he could do for Eddie.

Buck doesn’t really know how to gauge what ‘overstepping’ might entail. He had initially intended to respect the space between them, despite how much he hated it, but then he met Eddie’s son. And then they had beer, and Eddie- he couldn’t stop himself. He started talking and it seemed like the floodgates had opened, and he just couldn’t stop. 

Now, Buck is on the way back to Eddie’s house, planning on introducing Eddie to someone who might end up being an authoritative figure in his son’s life. He’s surged past ‘overstepping’ right back into Eddie’s personal life. He’s like- he’s like herpes. It might not show up for years at a time, but he never truly goes away. Thrown back in, because Buck doesn’t know how to restrain himself. He doesn’t want to.

When his phone rings, interrupting Etta James, Buck almost jumps- and, okay. It’s the third time his sister has called, just this morning, and Buck is running out of excuses. 

“Hello?” he says sheepishly. 

“You’ve been avoiding me, Evan Buckley.”

He winces. Maddie’s not exactly wrong, but that’s not fair. 

“No!” he protests, voice high and squeaky. “I’ve just been busy.” 

That’s true. He has been busy. He hasn’t had a moment of real rest since Eddie Diaz walked into the damn house.

“What’s going on?” she says. “Chimney says you and the new probie have history, but that’s all he knows, but you’ve been acting weird since he got there.”

Ugh. “It’s- it’s not a big deal, Mads. We went to high school together.” 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” 

Look. Buck is endlessly grateful for his big sister, who takes such good care of him, to the point where she’s this fucking nosy. 

“Who?” he asks, like playing dumb has ever worked with Maddie. 

“The guy,” she says. “The one that ran you out of Texas.”

Oh my god. “He did not run me out-”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” 

Fuck fuck fuck. “Maybe.”

“ Buck .”

“It’s not like that!” he says, even squeakier than last time. “I promise, it’s not. We’re not- yeah.” 

“I’m telling Chimney.”

“No, you are not,” he snaps. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Buck, I have to!”

“You don’t even know what happened!” he says. 

“My baby brother fell in love with a guy who broke his heart to the point where he decided moving back to Pennsylvania to live with our emotionally absent parents would be less painful than staying.”

Gripping the steering wheel, Buck’s jaw clenches. “Maddie, it’s not that simple.” 

“Then tell me what happened.”

He wants to. God, he really, really fucking wants to- if he wanted to tell anyone, it would be his big sister- because she understands how far he’s come, and she understands who he is and what he’s been through. Maddie’s one of the only people who lived through his two Big Breakdowns, and he sure as fuck wants to avoid having a third. 

Moving to Texas had been, in the least dramatic way possible, a life changing moment. Buck hadn’t realized how much of his identity was based on his parents’ perception until they couldn’t see him anymore. They chose not to when he lived in Pennsylvania. Buck learned more things about himself in those two years in Texas than he had in his whole life before, and he’d be lying if he said Eddie wasn’t a huge part of that. 

At first, they weren’t even friends. Eddie was popular, but not in the traditional way. Everyone knew who he was, but nobody really knew him- but Buck was persistent. 

“Hey, Diaz,” Buck says. “Can I sit here?”

Eddie looked confused, but he nodded to the seat across from him. “Sure.”

Collapsing in the chair, Buck pulled his textbook out. “I’m Evan, by the way.”

“I know,” Eddie said. “You sit behind me in English.”

“We do,” Evan says. “What are you writing your essay on, by the way? I haven’t even started mine, I feel like there’s too much going on to choose from.”

Diaz shrugged. “I don’t know, dude. I’m probably not even going to turn it in.”

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Evan looked back up. “Why not?”

Diaz took a second to answer, long enough that Evan thought he wasn’t expecting any further questions. At least, expecting that Evan would have some kind of answer.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said, with a note of finality that didn’t invite any further commentary. They sat at that lunch table, and Evan watched Eddie stare at the same page for far too long, and felt something distant begin to ache . 

Eddie taught Evan what longing felt like. 

For a second there, Evan thought they might both learn how to ache, together. 

Buck remembers that first conversation as well as he remembers their last, for completely different reasons. 

Eddie stood in his living room, guilt rolling off him in waves. They’d agreed to take a second, take the night and talk in the morning, but Eddie’d barely gotten a word out. Evan knew he’d slept with Shannon. She was in town, Ramon and Helena practically shoving the two of them together, and there was nothing Evan could say. Eddie wasn’t out . 

Evan kind of couldn’t believe that Ramon and Helena hated gay people more than they hated women, but whatever. It didn’t matter. Eddie was still their little puppet, and they both knew what was going to happen.

He just kept saying the same fucking thing, and Evan was sick of hearing it. It’s not Eddie. Those words- they’re not Eddie’s. This isn’t right.

“I have to do the right thing,” Eddie said, almost frantic. “I have to, Evan, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain this to me,” he said. Pleaded . “Explain this to me, Eddie. Why are you doing this?” 

Why are you leaving me? 

“I love her,” he said stubbornly.
Rolling his eyes, Evan shook his head. 

“Evan, I do.”

“Christ, Eddie, I know that,” Evan snapped. “I know you do.”

“Then what is the fucking problem?”

“You don’t love her like that ,” Evan said. “Not in the way they want you to.” 

“How the fuck would you know?” Eddie snaps. “Do you think that I love you , Evan? I’m not like you.” 

Evan had been very familiar with disappointment. He’d seen it on his parents’ faces every single time he’d tried and failed to be someone they were capable of loving. 

It wasn’t unfamiliar, exactly. It wasn’t even unexpected, because he operated under the assumption that he’d eventually exhaust everyone around him. There’s a degree of disbelief that comes with your biggest fears actualizing, though. 

I’m not like you.  

Like what?

He’d never dared to question what Eddie meant by that. He didn’t want to know. 

“I can’t,” he says slowly. “It’s not- it’s not my story to tell, okay? And it sure as fuck isn’t yours, so you can’t say anything, Maddie. I mean it.” 

She’s quiet. He hopes that the seriousness of it comes across. She doesn’t have any facts, but she has enough context to where she must know. These conversations surrounding sexuality and identity are just- they’re too fragile to give away. Buck might not have forgiven Eddie, not completely, but he’s not stupid. It’s not cut and dry. It’s not simple, and Maddie’s smart enough to know that.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Buck, I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to- to get hurt.” 

“Scary world, Mads,” Buck says. “I’m going to be fine- look, I have to go.”

“Where are you going?” she asks suspiciously. 

Ugh . “To his house, but it’s not-”
“It’s not like that, yeah, yeah, I know,” Maddie sighs. “Just- Evan.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be, but he’s feeling petulant at this point, so he just grips the phone tighter. “What.”

She takes a deep breath, and Buck feels the edges of guilt start to set in- but Eddie opens his front door, raising a brow at Buck, where he’s been sitting in his driveway, like a creep. 

“Just promise me you’ll call me,” Maddie says. “If- yeah.” 

If this all goes to shit? If he loses his fucking mind for the third time? 

“I will,” he says, fully intending to keep that promise. “I love you, Maddie.”

“I love you, too.” 

Quickly, he hangs up, getting out of the car before Eddie starts to second guess this little rendezvous that Buck had refused to explain further. 

“Sorry, I was talking to my sister,” he explains, taking Eddie’s invitation to enter his house. 

“Maddie?” Eddie asks. “How is she?”

Stupid stomach flutters- that nonchalant familiarity. 

“She’s good,” Buck says. “Family drama, you know how it is.”

Buck. Buck is the drama, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t need to know anything. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, yawning widely before pulling a chair out of his dining room table, rounding it and dropping into the seat opposite. Buck takes the wordless invitation as Eddie nudges the other mug of coffee toward him. “So, what exactly are we doing today?”

Okay. Deep breath. Your nervous system has been frayed your entire life, Evan, you can handle this. 

“I have someone that I want you to meet,” Buck says. “I think she’s exactly what you need, right now.” 

“If you’re trying to send me on a blind date-” 

“I’m not,” Buck insists. “Come on. We talked a little bit about how sometimes we need help, right? I had a… friend. Her mom had Alzheimer’s and she needed around-the-clock care, but she didn’t have the income to pay for private service. Carla was a lifesaver for Abby, and I think she could be one for you, too.” 

Eddie still looks apprehensive, which is totally fair. Eddie’s never met Carla, so he simply can’t know about her ingeniousness. 

“You don’t have to commit anything. I just want her to meet you,” Buck says. “Just trust me on this, okay? You guys’ll talk, and I’ll kick her out if it doesn’t go well.”

Trust me on this. 

Trust me. 

When Eddie’s doorbell sounds, they both look up. Buck looks at him, questioning, and Eddie sighs before standing up. He looks at Buck expectantly, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“Introduce us?” Eddie asks, and Buck smiles widely, managing not to skip over to the door. 

It’s been too damn long since he’s seen Carla, but they’re both busy. Now that Abby isn’t in his life, they hadn’t had much reason to see each other, but maybe that’s going to change. 

“Hey, Buck!” Carla says, opening her arms, and Buck goes happily. He's been short of maternal love nearly his entire damn life. He'd never turn down a warm hug, not from anyone- as long as it was real.  

“Carla, this is my coworker, Eddie Diaz,” he says. “And he would like your help.”

Eddie still looks nervous, and Buck can’t help but smile. 

“Carla is red tape’s worst nightmare,” he says again. “She’s the absolute master at navigating all of that bureaucratic bullshit. If there’s anyone who can help you find what you need and how to get it, it’s Carla.”

“Any friend of Buck’s is a friend of mine,” Carla says, winking. “And I always help my friends.”

“It’s really nice to meet you,” Eddie says genuinely. “I’m- uh. I’m not really sure where to start.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Carla says. “Tell me about your son! Christopher, right?”

Eddie nods quickly, going off into a little spiel about cerebral palsy, how it’s not an illness, how independent and smart Christopher is. Buck watches the love soften his eyes the longer he talks, and he has to look away.

They have a lot to talk about, but Eddie’d said he had no plans before picking Christopher up from school. Carla and Eddie manage to make it to the dining room table, sorting through paperwork, Buck does some of the dishes left in the sink before cleaning up the kitchen. He goes to the bathroom, puts away some of the extra ingredients, does stupid busy chores until he literally has nothing left to stall with. Sighing, Buck brings the box of muffins back over to the table. Hesitating, he doubles back for the water pitcher, setting that out for them too before shoving his hands in his pockets sheepishly. 

“Hey, thanks, Buckaroo,” Carla says warmly. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, because really. This doesn’t hurt him at all. “I’ll- uh. Lock the door on my way out.”

Eddie’s head whips up. “Where are you going?” 

Buck’s steps falter. He’s confused, and he looks back at Eddie with a brow raised. 

Because I just met your son yesterday? He wants to say. Because I don’t have a place in your life anymore? Because there’s literally no reason for me to be here, and yet, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be? 

“Thought you might want some room to talk?” Buck says. “But- um. I can stay if you’d like.”

Eddie flushes, immediately looking away, and Buck’s grateful that he doesn’t need to see the shame in Eddie’s eyes. 

“Ah, yeah, you know,” Eddie says. “I think it would be helpful to have, um. A sounding board.” 

Despite the fact that Buck doesn’t know anything about any of this bullshit- not from this side of it, anyway.

But Eddie wants him here. Maybe as a safety tether- an anchor, of some sorts, but Buck finds that he doesn’t really care. 

Whatever you need, Buck wants to say. Ask me. Ask me. 

“Of course,” Buck says. “Of course, let me just sit down- what time do you need to pick Christopher up?”

“He’s going to Pepa’s after school,” he says. “So, not until at least 6:00.”

“Oh, we’ll be done by lunchtime,” Carla says. “Here, let me show you this.” 

Carla’s laptop has a bunch of files open, and she’s even brought some hard copies. They go back and forth between Eddie's paperwork and Carla's. Buck reads off a bunch of information, listens as Eddie talks through some of that crap, and Buck has no idea how anyone could have told Eddie he's not intelligent. He's even able to offer some suggestions about policy with the firehouse- and even though they're all utterly exhausted by 1:00, it's all done. 

"Okay!" Carla says. "I'm going to get this all filed with my agency, and we should hear back from them within a few days." 

“Carla,” Eddie says. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this- I want him to meet you first, but as long as he’s on board, you’ve got a job here as soon as you want it.” 

“The fact that you want me to meet him first only makes the job sound better,” Carla says. “I can’t wait to meet him. I’m looking forward to it.”

Buck hugs her, tries to astral project every bit of gratitude he’s got through the physical touch. 

“Love you, honey,” Carla whispers. “Call me.”

He promises, waving her off as she gets back into her car. Like a sweeping breeze, in and out, completely rearranging their lives. 

Or. Eddie's life, he supposes. 

this isn't yours!

"Told you she was awesome," Buck says weakly. "Um. How are you feeling?" 

Eddie's definitely still processing, but he smiles. "A lot better than yesterday. Exhausted."

Buck nods, anxiously tapping his leg as he spins around, looking for his keys. 

“I definitely overstayed my welcome,” Buck admits. Eddie's exhausted, he deserves a nap. “I should get going- thank you. For letting me stick around, this was all really interesting-”

“Hey.” 

Buck’s body reacts to that before it truly gets through his head. All of his words catch in his throat, feeling the air charge with something he couldn't forget, no matter how hard he tried- and maybe he's wrong. Maybe they're not- maybe those hints of something real, reminiscent of before were nothing more than Buck's overactive imagination. 

Buck is terrified when he turns around. He can't breathe, and it just gets worse when he realizes Eddie is a lot closer than he was before. 

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says, his voice cracking. “Thank you, Buck. Seriously, I- you have no idea how much this means to me.” 

People change, but they don’t change. 

“It’s no problem,” Buck mumbles. “I’m- uh. I’m glad I could help.” 

“I mean it,” he insists. “You’re- you’re so good to me, Buck. You’ve always been good. Kind, I mean, and I want to make it up to you.” 

He’s sure Eddie hears it too.

He tries not to look at him, but Buck doesn’t need to. Eddie hasn’t stepped back, still in Buck’s personal space, but Buck is not complaining. He’s the opposite of complaining. 

Eddie won’t make eye contact with him when the back of his hand touches Buck’s, gentle touch that shouldn’t be nearly as charged as it is.  

"Will you sit?" 

It's barely above a whisper, but Buck couldn't care less. He leaps at the words- to be good for Eddie, and he practically falls down on the couch. Eddie sits down next to Buck, and he startles a little. It’s the closest Eddie’s voluntarily gotten to him- to the point where Buck can actually feel his body heat. 

Eddie’s hands are on Buck’s hips, and his breath catches in his throat, eyes wide and a little confused. Arousal pools in his stomach, and he tries not to shiver, tries to keep himself level. Can’t embarrass himself further in front of Eddie. 

“Eddie,” Buck murmurs. “Eds, we don’t have to- it’s okay.” 

But Eddie’s eyes flick down to Buck’s lips, and he pulls him closer. 

“I want to give you a reward,” Eddie says, and some sort of liquid heat shoots down Buck’s spine. “For being so good to me.” 

If Buck had more presence of mind, he’d be embarrassed by how that utterly guts him. He whimpers, curling under Eddie’s hands, his body, and Buck can’t breathe. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

“Wait, wait,” Buck says, and Eddie immediately lets go. Buck can’t stand the fear on his face, and he’s quick to take Eddie’s hands. “No, no. I’m okay, I promise, I just-”

He cuts himself off.

“I want,” Buck says, flushing as he gestures down to himself, the complete mess he’s already made. “Obviously, I want- you’re so fucking beautiful, Eddie, I want, I just want to make sure.” 

“Of what?” Eddie asks, voice so soft, so gentle.

“I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything,” Buck blurts out. “You don’t- you don’t owe me anything, Eddie. You don’t have to do this.”  

Eddie’s smile is gentle as he runs his fingers along Buck’s jaw, sharper than it was the last time they did this. 

“I know,” Eddie says. “Can I, anyway?” 

Buck doesn't want to cry, but he doesn't know if he'll be able to stop himself, and he nods, head still cradled in Eddie's hands.

“Yeah,” Buck breathes out. “You can.” 

His grip gets a little tighter when he pulls Buck closer, kissing him. Buck closes his eyes, feels himself melting into Eddie just like all of those years he’d lost, hands coming up to tangle in Eddie’s hair- 

Snatching, Eddie takes his hands, and Buck whines as he pulls them away. Catching his wrists, Eddie moves them down, pressing them into the couch.

“Don’t,” Eddie breathes out. “Don’t- just. Let me, okay? Just- just don’t.” 

Not yet?

Never?

Buck can feel himself shaking, but Eddie isn’t. His hands are steady where they’re pressing Buck’s down into the cushions. Eddie fucking Diaz is on his knees, between Buck’s legs, and he can’t breathe.

“I want to give you a reward,” Eddie repeats. “So you’re going to sit there, spread your legs, and take it. Like a good boy.”

“Eddie-”

“I know you know how,” Eddie says. “You remember, don’t you?” 

Whining, Buck nods desperately, hands scrabbling for some kind of purchase. 

Eddie undoes his pants before pulling his cock out, and Buck is already so hard, so embarrassingly needy. He’s leaking already and he wants to hide, shoving his face into the pillow. 

“No.”

It’s harsh, one word command, but Buck obeys, looking down just in time to see Eddie wrap his lips around Buck, taking him into his throat. Buck’s hips jerk, and he whines as Eddie sinks down to the root, making eye contact with Buck. Once he’s sure that Buck’s looking, paying attention, Eddie starts to smirk as best he can before he adjusts himself. Then he swallows, and Buck gasps. 

“Oh my god ,” he says, gripping the pillow so hard he’s afraid he might tear it. “Eddie- Eds, I-”

He pulls off, kissing the tip of his head, gently lapping at the precome dripping, dripping. “Use your words, baby, tell me how you feel.”

“Missed your mouth,” Buck says honestly, and Eddie’s voice is shot, all because he had Buck in his mouth, in his throat - “I missed your mouth, Eddie, feels so good-”

Eddie's hands sit on his hips, keeping him pressed down into the couch, not letting his hips jerk. His eyes burn into Buck, watching, watching, the way that Buck knew meant he was gauging his reactions, trying his damndest to make Buck tick. 

Does he still want me? Buck wonders desperately. What do you want?

On his knees, Eddie just keeps teasing him, little kitten licks and they're good, so good. His tongue is hot and wet and he teases just under Buck's head, cupping him with his tongue before taking him back down to the root again and Buck convulses, can't help it, curls in on himself. 

"Eddie, please," Buck begs, and he groans around Buck's cock. 

"Up," he demands. "Get up." 

Buck stumbles, but Eddie's hands guide him, pushing him toward the bedroom. His pants are tangled, wrapped around his ankles, even though his boxers are still trapped around his thighs, but Eddie doesn't care. 

Buck's back hits the bedroom door and he groans, tries to be good, keep his hands still. Eddie keeps kissing him as he fumbles for the doorknob, nipping at Buck's lip, hands exploring- and he practically tears Buck's shirt off, tossing it on the floor somewhere and then he's got Buck laid out on his bed, climbing over him, thighs bracketing him in.

"I want to suck you off," Buck blurts out. "Please. Let me make you feel good, Eddie, I'll be so good for you."

Eddie doesn't answer him, eyes roaming around Buck's body- and his hands twitch again, longing to press into the meat of Eddie's thighs, but Eddie must see it coming. Gathering Buck's wrists, he pins them down above his head, hips rolling as they meet. 

The harsh denim of Eddie's jeans is almost too much against Buck's sensitive cock, but it's good, it's so fucking good, perfect reminder of the stark contrast between the two of them. Buck's a fucking mess of need, completely naked, laid out under Eddie. Eddie, who's still fully dressed, still in complete control of himself, and it's so humiliating and so perfect and he feels so small.

"Fuck," Buck gasps. Desperate to provide some sort of stimulation, make Eddie feel good, his hips jerk, thrusting, trying to get more of that delicious pressure.

Eddie chuckles. "Needy."

"Let me," Buck insists, wrists twisting in Eddie's hold.

"I don't think so," Eddie says, still grinding. It's slow, filthy- fucking perfect, not enough. Buck tries. He holds still, lets Eddie play with him, tries not to move- but it's so fucking good, and he groans wetly, head thrown back into the pillow, Eddie's pillow.

"Eddie," he whimpers.

"What?" he asks quietly, speeding up, and Buck's voice catches. 

"Wanna come."

"Oh, do you, now?" Eddie asks wryly, and Buck nods desperately. "You're still so needy. Falling apart, right under my fingers. So fucking good."

Buck gasps. "Please."

Eddie's hips jerk, and his head drops, groaning gently into Buck's ear as he speeds up, perfect, perfect pressure, and Buck sobs.

"Good boy," Eddie breathes out, and Buck loses his mind. "So good to me, baby. Come on."

When Buck comes, it takes everything in him, like Eddie's wrung him out, nothing left to give. It's ridiculous. Nothing more than some heavy petting, not even close to the dirtiest they've gotten, and he's sobbing on Eddie's bed like a baby, so completely overwhelmed. 

"D- D'you?" he slurs out, praying Eddie can still decipher him, because Buck needs to know. It's actually urgent. A literal emergency, he needs to know if Eddie feels as good as Buck does. 

"I'm good," Eddie promises, voice so soft, so gentle, and Buck is fucking melting. He's on fire, he's melting, coming apart. "Come here. Come on."

I'd do anything for you, he wants to sob. Please. 

It's probably the worst idea he's ever had- to let himself fall asleep in Eddie Diaz's arms, but- Scratching the mosquito bite, the lure of instant gratification, and he'd do anything to not have to yearn for a while. 

Eddie lays on top of him, head on Buck's chest, keeping him grounded in reality, and Buck is so fucking grateful. 

"Rest," Eddie orders, and Buck is gone. 

~~~

Eddie's snoring gently, still half draped over Buck, his breath ghosting over his bare chest. 

Oh, god. Oh, fuck. 

Buck manages to keep still under Eddie's arms, trying to clear his head. Eddie's fast asleep, even, slow breaths as he nuzzles into Buck's arm. Buck tries to shove down the rush of affection, excitement, panic . 

Dear fucking god, he's in Eddie Diaz's bed. 

All of the memories hit him at once, every second coming back to him, weirdly detached. Like Buck had introduced Carla and Eddie fifty years ago instead of just this morning. 

Buck has questions. Like, a lot of questions, and he can feel all of that panic start to boil over. Is Eddie going to be upset when he wakes up? Is he going to be angry? Feel manipulated? Kick him out? 

Holding his breath, Buck manages to slip out from under Eddie's arms, whispering an apology when he starts grumbling. Quickly, Buck sorts through his clothes on the floor, wincing when he realizes they're still sticky. 

"What are you doing?" 

Jumping, Buck curses as he drops his pants, managing to hang on to his shirt. Sleepy Eddie eyes glare at him from where he's sitting on the bed, looking utterly put out. 

"What?" he says stupidly. 

"Where are you going?" Eddie says. 

Um. Buck doesn't know. Literally anywhere but here? He's so fucking embarrassed, he might just dive off a cliff. 

“We just slept together,” Buck says. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” Eddie deadpans, and if he wants to be a snarky little shit, then Buck can too. 

“What part of ‘not gay’ does this fit into, exactly?”

 Eddie rolls his eyes, flopping back to hit his head on his pillow. “What, you’ve never- checked out a cute guy? Made out in the bar and never learned his name?”

Buck scoffs, giving up on his t-shirt. “I absolutely have, but unlike someone , I’m the opposite of not-gay. Call me Super Bi. Bi-Man, like Batman. Wait, no. The Bisexual Batman-”

“Please stop talking.” 

“What do you want, Eddie?” Buck asks. “What is this? I don’t know about you, but I don’t make it a habit to sleep with someone who’s ‘just a coworker.’” 

“Yeah, neither do I,” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like I’m making the rounds, Buck. I’m not- you’re the first person I’ve slept with in years .”

Buck doesn’t know why that surprises him. It’s very Eddie - he doesn’t long for physical contact the way Buck does. He’s pathetic. Touch-starved to the point where he’d rather feel a stranger’s hands than no hands at all. 

Distantly, he wonders if Eddie knows. And if he does, is he judging Buck? For not being able to go longer than a few weeks without needing? 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks weakly. 

“You showed up in Los Angeles after not speaking to me for years acting like everything was fine,” Buck blurts out. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to talk about! I don’t even know what you remember.”
“You can talk about anything.”
“Shut the fuck up, Eddie, you know I can’t.” 

He doesn’t know what to say. 

They never needed to say anything, before, and Buck is clinging on to every little piece of their history, hoping that he doesn’t need to say anything, now. Eddie could never say anything, but he didn’t need to. 

Buck needs him to say something now.

“I know,” Eddie says weakly. “I know. I’m sorry, I just- I know I’m confusing you. I know I keep saying the wrong thing, I’m- I don’t know what I’m doing.”

It might as well be the most honest thing Eddie’s said. It’s true, in his eyes, his voice. 

Buck knows Eddie has a lot to work through. He might be working through it for the rest of his damn life, and Buck- he doesn’t want Eddie to have to work through it alone. 

“It’s okay,” Buck says. “But- um. For my own sake, I just need to know what we’re doing. I’m- I want you in my life, Eddie, I just need to know what that means.” 

Eddie nods jerkily, hands playing with the sheets. 

“Can we just be friends?” Eddie asks. “Like. Friends, who just. Do this. Sometimes.”

Buck laughs incredulously, and Eddie looks a little irritated, but his voice is playful enough when he snaps. “What?”

“I can’t believe Edmundo Diaz just asked me to be friends with benefits,” Buck says. Truly, the demotion of his fucking life.

Buck’s feeling much less anguish than he was before. Maybe he needs to do more research into the psychic ESP bullshit about telepathy, because it looks like Eddie’s just absorbed all of it. 

“I don’t want you to feel used,” Eddie says. “It’s- you know. If you don’t want to do this, neither do I.”

There’s never been any doubt about that. Buck is pretty sure Eddie would tear his own skin off sooner than touching someone who didn’t want it. 

“I think I’ve made it pretty clear how I feel about you using me,” Buck says. 

Eddie’s smile slowly spreads, chuckling, and it settles something in the back of his mind- something that knows . It’s okay. 

“Come here, then.” 

Buck rolls his eyes, dropping the t-shirt before walking up to Eddie, who pulls him in closer. 

“You still kiss the same,” Eddie murmurs. “With your whole body, like you’re trying to give me as much as yourself as possible.”

Something familiar burns in his chest- something he’s been missing. 

Logically, he knows that Eddie isn’t pulling all that hard, that Buck could fight him harder, but a fantasy is a fantasy and he's not going to half ass this. Eddie yanks at him until they're back on the bed, tangled up together, kissing slow and lazy as Eddie works him over, low arousal simmering in his gut, but he doesn't mind. He's going to close his eyes, let himself feel this-

Eddie's alarm goes off, and he groans, flopping back into his pillow.

“Are you okay?” Buck asks softly. 

Eddie waves his hand in the air. “I barely slept last night, I’m just tired.”

Oh. “Sorry.”

Eddie snorts. “It’s not your fault. I’ll be fine, I just meant to make dinner before I left, so he’s probably going to be hungry and grumpy when we get back.”

“I could help?” Buck hedges. “I can drop something off for dinner, or cook something, Bobby’s been teaching me.”

Eddie looks at him, expression carefully guarded, and yeah. He’s officially gone over the line. 

“Dumb idea,” Buck says sheepishly. “Good dad, can’t just let anyone feed your kid.”
“You’re not ‘just anyone,’” Eddie interrupts. “Buck, I’d be fine with you taking care of Christopher, I just don’t want to put you out.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what he feels next. There’s nothing- no indication, nothing Buck can grasp onto in order to justify why. Maybe it’s stupid- that he can’t figure out how to be anything other than Eddie’s Evan . 

Something sinks into him. Some kind of claw, tearing him apart- a voice that screams at him, telling him that this is going to end horribly, up in flames, and Buck is going to end up more hurt than he was the first time around. 

But something else screams louder, insisting that it doesn’t matter. Buck needs to do this. He needs to try again, be there for Eddie as long as he’ll have him. 

Maybe it’ll be okay. Probably not. It’ll probably go up in flames, but maybe they’ll be okay, and Buck-

He’d rather have Eddie for a little longer than not have him at all. 

“It’s really no trouble,” Buck promises. “I- uh. I’ll be good.” 

It’s not a direct track, exactly, but it’s enough to settle Eddie. He levels a look at Buck, eyebrow just barely raised. 

"If you're making dinner, you're staying to eat it," Eddie says, and Buck nods. Eddie smirks as he pulls himself up, kissing his cheek as he drags himself out of bed. 

"Comfortable clothes are in the dresser," he calls. "Should be something for you in there."

And with that, he's left in Eddie Diaz's bedroom, given permission to root around in his dresser and kitchen. 

Buck knows. He knows he can't let himself believe that he could possibly belong here-

But who's it gonna hurt if he pretends, in the meantime?

Chapter Text

Buck’s an idiot, but he’s not entirely ignorant. He’s well aware that this is probably (definitely) going to end up with him hurting, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when it’s so good . Eddie has always been giving. It was a little unsettling at first, to notice Eddie noticing Buck, but he kind of has a hard time thinking about that when Eddie’s laid him out, intent on making him forget his own damn name. 

So. They act exactly the same as they always have, and it’s no big deal that Buck usually ends up in Eddie’s bed at night. 

All the time. 

They’re fucking hopeless. 

Honestly, after a twenty-four hour shift, Buck has no business going anywhere other than to his own damn bed, but it’s not his fault . Eddie looks at him, pleading eyes, and Buck is fucking screwed. He can’t help himself. It’s just so comforting, being around Eddie, around Eddie’s things, in Eddie’s presence. 

He loves Christopher, too. That kid very quickly worked his way into Buck’s heart, and he’s pretty certain he’d find a way to travel back in time (which the laws of physics don’t disallow) if Christopher asked. 

For a few hours, he gets to pretend like he deserves everything he’s selfishly hoarding- love. Family. Domesticity.

But when they go to work, Buck can’t touch him, can’t lean against him the way he wants to. When they’re leaving Eddie’s house in the morning, Buck leaves a half hour before Eddie does so they can stagger their arrival to avoid suspicion. It’s imperative- all of these little efforts to allow them to keep this under wraps, because it’s not real. It’s not . 

It doesn’t matter how much this sucks. He doesn’t like being alone- when the world gets too loud and he feels like there’s too much going on, writhing under his skin, he needs to be touched. He needs to feel useful, and- yeah. Buck’s good at sex. He’s learned how to pay attention to his partner, give them whatever it is that they need, do whatever he can to make sure that they feel good. They’re usually appreciative after, tell him how good he is, and he gets to pretend like those words mean something more. 

He’s a lone slut, and he knows it. Leaning into the label is a lot easier than trying to beat accusations that he’s got written all over him. A girl once referred to him as the walking embodiment of mommy issues, and it stuck with him ever since. He tries not to let it show- the stink on him, the desperate smell of loneliness. It’s like a neon fucking sign. Unlovable. 

Unlovable. 

He tries not to be pathetic, and Buck is doing better. He has his own damn apartment, a steady job. He does work that he absolutely loves and he’s still in contact with his sister and has made some of the deepest relationship connections of his life here at the 118. From the outside, objectively speaking, his life is pretty damn good. Plus, finding hook-ups is kind of exhausting- trying to figure out what the other person wants, make his intentions clear without sounding like an insincere jerk.

Then all of his intentions go out the window- he starts getting attached way too fast, manages to convince himself that this person is the only one who could ever put up with his bullshit, but it never pans out because it’s someone he met on Tinder. He’s sick of all of that, frankly. He and Eddie have always been friends, even when they were something more. Buck has always cared, even when they were something less. 

So, it’s all good. It’s all physical, and absolutely no feelings. The longer Buck ignores it, the easier it gets to pretend it’s not there. He’s going to suck it up and deal with all of his feelings when he has to, and not a minute sooner. 

On days like this - stupid days, days where the stupid probie jinxes them to have stupid fucking calls all damn day - it gets even easier to ignore. Buck can enjoy the way that Eddie’s uniform frames his ass for short, fleeting moments that he doesn’t have enough time to feel real guilt about, because someone is calling him for the saws or jaws or hoses or tarps. Turns out, Buck does better when he’s busy and he doesn’t have enough time to have actual thoughts or feelings, not when he has to worry about some idiot who's duct taped himself to a billboard in the middle of downtown LA.

They get him down, dealing with the resulting accidents from all of the traffic the idiot caused. Buck's mostly handling the equipment, leaving Eddie free to go around and treat some of the injuries floating around. It's not like Buck's stalking him, exactly, but he can't help the way his eyes follow him, making sure he's okay, that he doesn't need any help.

Eddie looks up, squinting. “Ms. Flores?” 

She turns around, squinting, and Eddie’s quick to remove his hat. He smiles at her, charming as ever, and Buck tries to ignore the ugly stab of jealousy. Like he’s not allowed to smile at other people- and if it were up to Buck, he’s not . Especially not when he’s all- sweaty, and sooty and rugged, all dark and fucking handsome and Buck is going to kill someone. 

“Eddie Diaz,” he says. “Christopher’s father, from school.” 

Her eyes light up with realization, and Buck almost drops the axe on his foot. 

“Edmundo?” She says. And what the fuck? Nobody calls Eddie ‘Edmundo.’ He’s so far removed from his name that Buck sometimes forgets about it. 

“Hey! Were you involved in the accident?” 

As much as Buck would like to stand there and scowl at them, he knows he’s already pushing the creep factor by listening in. Leaning over, he starts to sort through their gear, rolling up the hose and trying to figure out if he can get started on folding the tarp, straining to hear the rest of their conversation. Ana is asking about Christopher as Eddie checks her burn. He’s literally doing his fucking job. 

“Ah, yeah, he’s adjusting to new classes,” Eddie says. “Figured that was why I didn’t see you around this year.

“You were looking for me?” Ana asks, voice all soft and smiley and feminine, and shit. Buck gets it, okay? Women are beautiful. People are beautiful. He remembers the first time Eddie had brought Ana up. She’s pretty much everything that his family wanted- feminine, beautiful, soft-spoken and traditional. Didn’t hurt that she was Latina, either- huge points with Eddie’s Tia Pepa and Abuela.

Definitely didn’t hurt Buck’s feelings that he hadn’t seen either of them since reconnecting with Eddie. Not at all. It's no big deal that Eddie hasn't brought him to see them. Back in Texas, they were so kind to him, but Buck figures that’s probably just how they are. People tend to pity the basket cases with absent parents. They're good people, who love Eddie to pieces- but Buck has never met Ana, and he doesn’t have any of those stupid preconceptions and therefore is not required to have any positive feelings about her.

“Uh,” Eddie says, immediately embarrassed. And why shouldn’t he be? Nobody likes getting hit on at work. You’d think Ana would know that. “Christopher said that you weren’t one of his teachers this year.”

“Guess it’s my lucky day, then,” Ana says. “I’m glad you found me.”

What the fuck is she even talking about? She got burned by hot coffee. And then put an ice pack on it, for some godforsaken reason. Ana is smart, Buck knows that for a fact. She’s smart enough to know that that kind of thing absolutely does not constitute her lucky day. 

There has to be a reason Eddie didn’t reach out, right? 

Right ? 

“Great seeing you,” Eddie says. “Um. Your job looks really good on you.”

Buck doesn’t even have an explanation for the pure rage crawling up his spine. Eddie is heading back toward them, and Buck drops his eyes abruptly, busying himself with the rest of the equipment. They’re almost ready to head off the scene, and he has things to do. Buck is an adult. He’s an entire adult, a firefighter, and he’s acting like a jealous sixteen year old.

After he shuts the side compartment, Bobby calls out to everyone and let them know it’s time to head out. Eddie’s storing the rest of his gear, shutting the smaller receptacle before opening the door to the cab. He pauses, looking over at Buck, brow raised. He just looks at him, all innocent. “Coming?” 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He’s so fucking screwed. 

“Yeah.” 

~~~

“Do you ever play a conversation back in your head and worry you sound like a complete idiot?”

Eddie asks. 

Buck scoffs. He’s tired, and sore, and already half asleep, but Eddie’s thinking really loudly right now and he should have expected this. “Have you met me?” 

It’s muttered into the pillow, but the room is quiet enough that Eddie can just about make the words out. 

“I ran into Ana Flores this morning,” Eddie blurts out. “Christopher’s English teacher?”

Fuck. He freezes, hands tensing under the pillow. Act normal. “Christopher’s pretty English teacher?” 

Eddie looks at him sideways, so Buck sighs, rolling over. 

“You haven’t mentioned her in a long time,” Buck says. 

“She’s not Christopher’s teacher anymore,” Eddie says, rolling onto his side to prop himself up, look at Buck. 

I noticed, Buck wants to gripe. 

He really can’t be insane about this, but he genuinely might not be able to stop himself. 

“She’s pretty,” Buck says dumbly.

“You already said that.” 

“What would you like me to say?” Buck snaps, pushing up on his elbows. The familiar curl of defense starts to crawl up his spine, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying until he says it. “Do you want to tell me all about her soft, pretty voice and her sweet eyes while I suck your cock?”

Eddie glares at him. “Evan, don’t do that.” 

“You’re the one bringing up your romantic conquests two minutes after you came inside of me.”

“She’s not- Buck, come on,” he sighs. “She’s not a romantic conquest. It’s not like that.” 

“Then why even bring her up?” Buck asks, completely fucking lost. Is Eddie just trying to make him feel better? Is he covering for himself? 

Eddie holds eye contact with him, something unreadable in his expression. Buck is fidgeting. He wants to keep pushing, drag answers out of Eddie, find something to hold on to that would make all of this confusion feel better. Just a little bit. He knows he can’t have everything- God knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he needs something .

“You’re allowed to want things,” Buck mumbles, even though it’s fucking killing him. “If you want something more with her, that’s okay. We don’t- you know?” 

He hopes Eddie knows. That was barely English. 

“I know, Buck, but I don’t want her like that,” Eddie says. “It’s complicated when you have a kid.” 

“Is that really the reason you won’t date?” Buck asks. “Weak excuse.” 

Eddie snorts. “You’re in bed with your decade-long situationship and you’re going to talk to me about weak excuses?”
Buck blinks. “Where the fuck did you even learn that word, you technophobe?”

Eddie shrugs. “You’re on TikTok a lot.”

“You’re in bed, too,” Buck mutters, shoving him. “You are defenseless . No defense.” 

Eddie doesn’t even bother gracing him with a response when he pulls at Buck, getting him situated back on Eddie’s chest, at the right spot where he can hear his heartbeat and see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and any urge he had to argue just dissipates. 

He’s a big boy. He can deal with Eddie bringing up women when they’re literally in bed, because he’s the one who’s in Eddie’s bed. 

“I don’t have time to figure all of that out, anyway,” Eddie says. “My parents will be in town this weekend. That’s all of the crazy I can handle.”

“Wait, what?” Buck blurts out. “But it’s Chris’s birthday.”

Eddie looks at him, amused. “Yeah. That’s why they’re coming.”

Um. Literally the worst birthday present ever. “Did Christopher want them to come?” 

“I genuinely think it’s never occurred to them to ask,” Eddie says honestly. “If they did, then I know they wouldn’t really care. It’s their grandson’s birthday, they want to be there for it.”

Of course. If there’s something that he knows about the Diaz parents, their wants and needs come first. 

“Well, let me know if you need anything,” Buck says awkwardly. “I know it’s. Rocky.” And that’s putting it lightly. 

Eddie doesn’t answer him. 

“You don’t have to be who they want you to be, Eddie,” Buck says quietly. "You're Eddie." And there's nothing wrong with that. 

He barely reacts, sighing, before sitting up. Buck whines, having lost his pillow, but Eddie hushes him.

Kissing his forehead, Eddie pulls him up. “Shower.” 

It seems he’s done with all of the serious feelings for the day, so Buck relents, smirking. “You wouldn’t make me shower all on my own, would you?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “The point of the shower is to get you less dirty.”

“But it’s your fault that I’m all dirty in the first place,” Buck pouts, pulling Eddie toward the bathroom. 

“Christ,” Eddie sighs, following him. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, determined to tear all of the shitty feelings out of his chest, forget about them, stomp them down the drain. “Prove it.”

Eddie’s never been one to back down from a challenge. 

Chapter Text

When Eddie got home from school, his parents were waiting in the living room. 

The fact that Ramon was home at all should have been cause to worry. It was the middle of the workweek, when he should have been out digging holes to find rocks or on an oil rig or some bullshit. But here he was, with his carefully controlled look of disappointment, sitting one pace behind his mother. 

“Que paso?” Eddie had asked carefully, holding onto his bag tighter. 

“You were with him again, weren’t you?” Helena accused. 

Ugh. He rolls his eyes, unwilling to have this conversation right now- not when he’d had such a good day. 

“Answer your mother.”

“Yes, I was,” Eddie says. “Am I not allowed to hang out with my friends? Because if so, I missed that memo.”

“I don’t want you hanging around that boy,” Helena says. “He’s a bad influence, Eddie. He’s going to corrupt you.”

“He’s a good person, Mama,” Eddie protests. “He’s been tutoring me, I even got an A- on my last English assignment.” 

“He’s one of them,” she hisses. “You’re going to be affected by those people just through association, Eddie! What will people say?”

Eddie had no idea. 

He wasn’t even sure if he cared. 

~~~

When Evan Buckley left Texas, Eddie was certain he'd never see him again. 

Eddie Diaz is a shitty person, and an even worse friend. Ask him what happened and he genuinely might not be able to tell you. He remembers- thinks he remembers, at least. There are fleeting moments that pass and some stories he could tell offhandedly, but he’s done his absolute best to forget about the role that Evan Buckley played in his life. 

When Eddie first met Buck, he was still Evan. He was one of the only new kids in a school full of people Eddie’d known for years. He was painfully friendly, had a smile and a kind word to gift to anyone and everyone. Eddie used to listen to his conversations and allow himself the slightest bit of voyeuristic amusement when he made his friends laugh with a stupid story, or when he said something kind to someone on a bad day. 

When Evan Buckley asked to sit with him, it had stunned him. It’s not like Eddie didn’t have friends, because he did, but nobody like Buck. Something that has always amazed Eddie is the sheer lack of depth between his male friendships- they were people who he’d known for years, but that didn’t mean anything. He knew them, but not like that. 

Eddie had a habit of steering clear of relationships that required more than that. Not for lack of interest, because there was only so much small locker room talk you could ask from a guy, but because of fear. He didn’t know how to be around people who could see him. With other people, he didn’t ask, and they didn’t pry. 

That was never going to work with Evan. Eddie could tell within five minutes of knowing him. 

Evan Buckley had no sense of ‘shallowness.’ He still doesn’t, frankly. Eddie’s pretty sure his filter hasn’t been used a day in his damn life, but because he’s just so genuine and good and kind it’s nothing but endearing. Buck found his place in Eddie’s life once before, and Eddie’d never been able to fill it since. 

The thing about Evan Buckley- he’s just Evan . Eddie knew he’d never find another person to love the way he’d loved Evan, but he had hoped he’d find something different. Something better- something that would make it a little bit easier to look his mother in the eye. 

Then why are you even bringing her up? He’d snapped. 

“Edmundo!” 

Sighing, he dropped his duffle bag in his room, opening the curtains to wave at Buck. He smiles, blowing him a kiss before driving off, because he’s stupid and sappy and sentimental like that. 

“Edmundo, ven aqui.”

Rolling his eyes, he closed his bedroom door behind him to make his way into the living room, bracing himself for another lecture about his no-good friend they were all pretending was no big deal. 

When he rounds the corner into the living room, Helena and Ramon are sitting opposite to the armchair- Eddie can’t see who’s sitting in it.

Helena beams at him, so out of character that he has to gawp momentarily. 

“Eddie!” she says. “Look who we ran into!”
The armchair creaks as the person shifts, and Eddie can see soft waves, gently flipped over her shoulder as she turns around. 

“Shannon,” he says, stunned. “Uh- what- what are you doing here?”

It was a time he was younger, less jaded- where he still existed under the assumption that people were always more good than they were bad. 

Why are you doing this? Evan had begged.  

Why are you leaving me?

Helena and Ramon swept into town with a bunch of suitcases and even more opinions. Eddie had wanted to plan Christopher’s birthday party himself, but he found himself only putting half-assed efforts into it because he knew . He knew that Helena would come in and change everything. Maybe he’d be surprised, had he still been that younger kid. Maybe if he hadn’t met Buck, or he hadn’t enlisted, or he hadn’t fathered a child before he could legally drink. 

Sitting on his couch in his own home after spending a day with them reminds him a bit of his childhood. Escaping to the quiet of his room, hiding from all of his responsibilities, doing his absolute best to give them no reason to get involved in his life. 

He doesn't like the quiet all that much. Not when it feels like this. Even the TV isn't enough to shut his brain off. Sighing, he digs his phone out of his pocket, sending a text before he can think twice. 

     They’re finally gone

     However, they did take my son with them to spend the night at a hotel and as grateful as I am for the alone time, Chris doesn’t count

[Buck]: how did it go? Is he excited for his party?

     Yeah, but they aren’t and keep telling me about how unsafe it is for him to be swimming

[Buck]: ??? isn’t that literally what the pt wants him to do

[Buck]: water therapy or wtv it’s called 

See? Eddie wants to scream. Buck gets it. 

     Exactly 

[Buck]: lol. Sounds super fun, as usual

[Buck]: want me to come over? Help you unwind?

Eddie stares at his phone. 

What does ‘unwind’ entail 

[Buck]: beer? 

[Buck]: bj? butt sex?

Eddie snorts, rolling his eyes. 

[Buck]: idk man i’m not picky. I’m here for whatever you need

If it were anyone else, Eddie wouldn’t believe it. Most of the time, offers to help are completely hollow. People say something in order to make themselves feel better knowing that they did the bare minimum. Offer, knowing there was a mutual understanding that it was nothing more than a social grace, something Eddie would respect by politely declining. 

But it’s not just anyone. It’s Buck. 

     Come over?

[Buck]: fifteen minutes

Shannon was sitting on his bed while he awkwardly sat at his desk, poring over a textbook under the guise of homework. He’d actually already done his work with Buck earlier, not that he could tell that to Shannon. He doesn’t know what he could explain to her, much less what he would want to. 

She’s doing something in a composition notebook, so Eddie manages to sneak his phone out, texting on top of the textbook. 

     My mom and dad invited shannon over

[evanito]: what? Like your middle school girlfriend?

[evanito]: eddie are you okay?

     I didn’t even know she was back in texas 

[evanito]: eddie, what’s going on?

     I don’t know they haven't said anything until now

[evanito]: 1 Missed Call

[evanito]: eds please pick up i’m worried 

     Don’t be it’s okay i’m okay 

“So,” Shannon says. “You have a girlfriend I should know about?”

What? “No.” And he’s not even lying.

“Wanna tell me why Mami and Papi are being so pushy about me?” she asks. “They’re practically planning our wedding out there.”

Fuck.

“Eddie, you’ve always been sweet to me,” Shannon says. “But Helena and Ramon never seemed too keen on me, and they practically shoved me into your bedroom. Helena says I need to ‘set you straight,’ whatever that means. What’s going on?” 

Well. If there’s one thing about his mother, Eddie supposes. She doesn’t mince words. “Nothing,” he insists. 

“Then why are they forcing this when you’re not even into me?” Shannon asks.

It was the wrong thing to say, not that Shannon could have known that. The implication was out there, though- that the whole world knew. They could see it, written on his skin- that he was wrong . The whole world knew he was just a pathetic faggot, too broken to have ever learned how to want women. 

It’s not fair. It’s not. Because it’s not even all men, it’s- it’s just Evan . 

But how the fuck is he supposed to explain that? Who was going to listen? 

“Whoa,” Eddie says. “Shan, I never said that.”

Her brow arches. “Oh, really?”

“God, Shannon,” Eddie says, forcing himself to smile. “Just look at you. You’re- you’re beautiful. I have eyes.” 

No game, Buck would have mocked him. 

“Then why are you being so weird?” Shannon asks. 

The walls are closing in. Eddie’s bedroom suddenly feels much smaller than before, and she’s on his bed, and there’s a pretty girl on his bed and he’s supposed to- he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. 

“Eddie, listen,” Shannon says. “We don’t have to do anything.”

He thinks maybe he does, though. He has to try, at least. Force himself to explore the possibility that he could still be just a regular guy, have a wife and two pretty children, be the man of the house. Because if he can, then he should try, right? If there’s any fucking chance that he can be someone that makes it easier for his family to love him? 

“Come on,” Eddie says, dragging her onto his lap, hoping she doesn’t feel the way his heart rate picks up. “I’d be crazy not to want you.” 

He’s left the front door unlocked so Buck can come in, and can hear Clifford the big red Buck creaking on the front porch before he even opens the door.

”I come bearing sustenance!” Buck yells, like the fucking nerd he is, and Eddie smiles. 

“In here.” 

Buck is bustling in the kitchen for a few minutes before he comes back to the living room, holding up two beer bottles, a silly smirk on his face. 

“I heard someone had a rough day,” Buck says. “So I brought my special cure-all.”

Raising a brow, Eddie snorts. “ Your special cure-all? I think Heineken might contest your patent.”

”Well, yeah, if the beer was the cure,” Buck says. “But it’s not.”

”It’s not?”

”It’s the beer, plus me and all of my super special skills,” Buck says, collapsing on the couch next to him. “Which include listening, being supportive, validating you when you’re right and calling you out on your bullshit when you’re wrong.”

Eddie’s heart hurts. 

“Here, I thought you were just hitting on me,” he says lamely. “Something about your special skills with your mouth.”

“That, too,” Buck says, shrugging. “But you already knew that. What happened? Helena get on your case?”

“Yeah, the usual,” Eddie says. “I apparently don’t know how to feed my son.” 

Buck snorts. “She should see how neurotic you are about him and vegetables.” 

Eddie chuckles before exhaling, leaning back against the couch. His eyes closed, the television in the background so quiet, practically indiscernible. Buck is quiet, gives him space to talk and breathe and think . 

“I’m trying to be understanding about where she’s coming from,” Eddie says finally. “They just don’t want him to turn out like me. Just wish they knew there’s nothing to worry about, you know? He’s a great kid.”

“He’s a great kid because of you,” Buck corrects. “And because of how you’re choosing to raise him.” 

Eddie’s unprepared for the mess of feelings that leaves him with. He wants to be proud, but he’s not supposed to be. He wanted so badly to give Christopher all of the goodness in the world. He didn’t want Christopher to struggle the way Eddie had- the way Eddie still does, sometimes. 

“You’re always so good to me,” Eddie says distantly. 

After an entire day of being told that everything he’s been doing is wrong, Eddie needed to do this. 

He knows Buck. He knows how to make Buck feel good, he knows exactly where to push and when to stop. 

They’re stupid, they’re wrong, and Eddie can do this. He needs to do this. 

“What do you need from me?” Buck asks gently. “What can I do?” 

Buck’s voice is as soft as his hands when he reaches for Eddie. He kisses him lightly, tentative, giving Eddie the chance to pull away. 

Or maybe not. Maybe he’s giving him the chance to open up.

Eddie’s hand on Buck’s neck, he shoves him back, positioning himself to sit on Buck’s lap. 

Buck reaches out to start tugging at his shirt, unbutton it, but Eddie can’t handle it. It’s wrong. Too wrong- letting Buck do that, letting him explore Eddie. He’s going to get caught up in it and he’s going to destroy Buck, and he can’t do that to him. He can’t do that again. 

“Just be yourself,” Eddie says. “I’m going to play with you for a little bit, okay? Can you let me play?” 

“Yes,” Buck breathes out. “Whatever you want.” 

Eddie can’t let himself get lost in Buck. He can’t let himself push nearly as far as he wants to. It’s not fair, not when Eddie can’t be who Buck deserves. 

But Buck gasps into his mouth, whimpers as Eddie’s hands wrap around his waist, and he sighs like there’s no place he’d rather be, and Eddie knows. He can do this. 

Buck is so wonderfully sensitive, so easy to tease, and Eddie takes advantage of that. He can tug at his nipples or press against his poor trapped cock, kiss along his sensitive neck before making his way back up to his mouth, nipping gently at his bottom lip as he slides his hand into the front of Buck’s pants. 

“Something bothering you?” Eddie asks quietly, holding him steady as his hips jerk, seeking more of that delicious pressure Eddie knows he craves so bad. 

Buck whines. “No.” 

“What’s this, then?” Eddie asks, grasping the base of his cock, hard and needing. 

“S-sorry.” 

“You’re perfect,” Eddie says. “Never apologize.” 

Buck is taller than he is, and bigger, but Eddie’s never let that stop him. The couch is taking most of the brunt where his legs are spread outside of Eddie’s thighs, and Eddie uses a finger under his chin to keep him steady, kiss him. 

Slowly, Eddie uses his left hand to start stroking Buck’s cock, gather all of that delicious wetness Buck can’t help leaking. Slow, deep strokes, all the way up to the sensitive spot right under his head- and Buck gasps wetly, so fucking perfect, and Eddie’s losing his mind. 

“Such a needy cock,” Eddie murmurs. “Leaking all over yourself, baby.”

It’s so easy, to work him up, bring him right up to that edge and watch him ride it, relish in his pure unbridled pleasure as Eddie shoves him over the peak. 

Buck comes all over himself, all over Eddie’s hands, and it might as well suck all of his energy out with it. Buck gives everything he’s got to Eddie, doesn’t matter the circumstances, and it’s not fair. 

Eddie wants to give back. This is the only way he knows how. 

Eddie lets Buck catch his breath, taking all of his weight, knowing that he’s strong enough to support him, keep him steady. 

When his tears slow, Eddie tugs at his thighs, holding him close as he stands up. Buck yelps, but Eddie’s got him, carrying him quickly toward the bedroom. Nudging the door open with his hip, Eddie lays him out on the bed, urging him to discard his messy clothes, handing him a clean pair of sweatpants before pulling him closer.

Buck twists in his arms, trying to get at Eddie’s waistband, but he catches his hands. 

“No,” Eddie says. 

Buck pouts. “But-”
“I’m okay,” Eddie says. “I don’t- I just needed to feel you.”

“I want to help.”

“You did,” Eddie promises. “I’m okay.” 

“Are you really?” Buck asks softly. “Okay, I mean?” 

Eddie wonders if he can get away with dodging the question completely. 

“I’m fine,” he says. It’s true. He’s always fine. “They’re just exhausting.” 

Buck snorts, and Eddie knows what they’re both thinking. Understatement of the century. 

“They have all of these opinions?” Eddie cringes. That explained nothing. “They have opinions on what I should be doing differently, who I should be. They’re not happy with any of my life choices, and they make that abundantly clear. I thought I’d gotten over it, but when they undermine my authority in front of my son, I don’t really know how to get over that.” 

“You shouldn’t have to get over that.”
Something about Buck’s easy acceptance, casual validation makes something crumble inside of him.

“I always figured it was me, you know?” Eddie says. “I thought I just wasn’t trying hard enough. I thought- there had to be a reason why none of my relationships were working out. I wasn’t- I wasn’t present enough, I wasn’t trying hard enough. I thought- I thought it was a fake it until you make it kind of thing, you know? And if I tried hard enough, then I would eventually make it happen.” 

“That’s not how love works, Eds.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I mean. I think I do?”

”What do you mean?”

“I don’t even know,” he mutters toward the ceiling. “I just don’t think I know how to love anyone right.”

Eddie remembers the weird looks. Not from everyone- Abuela was in no hurry to set him up with anyone, which was why he so often ran away to see her. It was why he came to Los Angeles in the first place. 

“It was weird,” Eddie says. “There was this? Culture? Even in the army. It was expected that the sight of any woman should have had me on my knees. Like, girls I didn’t even know, and I was supposed to be enthralled. Mom and Dad would tell me about this good Mexican daughter of one of their friends, show me a picture and it was supposed to be enough to pique my interest, but it just wasn’t. I didn’t know any of them.”

He had friends who drooled over centerfolds and fake porn videos of people with completely unrealistic proportions, and it- it didn't do anything for him. Nothing. And he remembers feeling broken. 

“I don’t think I learned how to love anyone,” Eddie says. “The way that relationships were supposed to form, you know? I know what love looks like, I know what I’m supposed to be doing and feeling, but I just. Don’t.” 

“You’ve never had genuine feelings?” Buck asks. “For anyone? You’ve never- you never loved anyone?”

Eddie looks up, too guilty for either of them to ignore the underlying question. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie says. “I don’t think so. I mean, you know that more than anyone.” 

Buck has had firsthand experience with Eddie’s inability to remain in a steady, committed relationship. Buck was the first victim at Eddie’s hands. Eddie- he was never enough. He didn’t know how to love Buck, and what he did learn wasn’t enough. 

It was why they didn’t work. Couldn’t. 

Buck’s been quiet for a little too long, and Eddie lifts his head, about to open his mouth to ask what’s going on when he sees the lightest shine of tears. 

All of his words catch in his throat, and Buck swallows heavily, tossing the blankets off himself. 

“I should go home,” he says stiffly, such an abrupt shift that Eddie doesn’t know how to handle it. Does he think Eddie’s kicking him out? 

“You could stay,” Eddie blurts out. “No work tomorrow and I’m not meeting up with my parents until noon.” 

Buck’s lips are pursed in the exact way that they get when he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek, anxious, jaw clenched and hurting, wet eyes. It triggers something in Eddie- a fight or flight response where neither of those are actually options, just the urgent need to destroy whatever put that look on his face. 

“Ah, yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Buck says awkwardly. 

“Wait,” Eddie says. “Evan, what just happened?” 

“Nothing,” he says, but he won’t even look at Eddie. “And it’s not Evan anymore, Eddie. I told you that.” 

Right. Fuck. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

Buck smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, shutting the door behind him before Eddie can say anything else. 

Probably just doesn’t want to give him the chance to fuck up, again. That, Eddie understands. 

Chapter Text

“I slept with Shannon.”

Buck scoffs, his arms crossed. “I know.”

What the fuck. “What- what do you mean? Who told you?”

“ You did,” Buck says. “You have no poker face, Eddie.”

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly. “Evan, I swear, I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what happened, Mom and Dad were just- they were pushing me and she asked me what was going on and I didn’t know how to tell her, Evan, and I didn’t know what was going to happen and if she was going to tell my parents and if they kicked me out then I wouldn’t be able to take care of my sisters-”

“Hey,” Evan says, and it’s not okay. He shouldn’t be the one comforting Eddie right now, not when he’s the one who fucked up. “Look. I understand, okay? It’s not that simple.”

“I still shouldn’t have done it,” Eddie insists. 

“Yeah, no,” Evan laughs. “You fucked up, but we’re going to talk about it, okay? We’re going to take a breath and then we’ll figure it out, I promise.” 

Eddie wishes he could remember that time better. Evan had a hard life long before Eddie was in it, but there was something pure about their relationship before. Before, when they were both pretending like there was nothing in their way- when Buck believed in Eddie, believed that they might be able to figure it out. There was a certain joy in his eyes that Eddie could remember, but it’s been too long. He doesn’t remember what it looks like. 

[Shannon]: we need to talk

[shannon]: i’m outside 

Cursing, Eddie drops his phone, scrambling over to his bedroom window. He can see Shannon across the street, leaning against her rental car, arms crossed. He keeps the hinges on this window slick and oiled so he and Buck can sneak in and out. Sliding it open, he crawls out, heaving himself over the bush before she notices him. 

Quickly, he jogs across the street, watching for any signs of life from inside the house, but all of the lights stay off.

“Shannon, what the hell are you doing here?” he hisses. 

“I told you,” she says frantically. “I needed to talk to you.”

“What’s so urgent?” he asks. “It’s almost midnight, my parents are going to kill me if the find out.” 

“Yeah, that too, probably,” she mutters. 

Confused, Eddie raises his arms in question, the tension in his shoulders just building. Shannon looks like she’s been crying, and Eddie’s not a complete monster. 

"Shan, what's-"

“I’m pregnant.” 

It’s such an incredulous impossibility. Funny joke. Something he’d definitely be laughing at any other night, but not now- not when he and Evan are… like this. 

Shannon isn’t laughing either. 

He scoffs, the familiar creep of terror squeezing the bottom of his stomach. “No, you’re not.” 

“Eddie, I’m pregnant.”

“How do you know it’s mine?”

It definitely comes out a little more accusatory than Eddie intended it, but he doesn’t care. How the fuck does Shannon know? Paternity tests can’t happen before babies are born can it? Fuck if Eddie knows. He doesn’t know the first goddamn thing about babies. He can’t be a father.  Shannon is staring at him like he’s eaten a kitten. Or a baby. 

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” 

“It’s a pre-college road trip, are you telling me I’m the only guy?”

“Yes!” she snaps. “I don’t know what kind of slut you think I am, but yes, Eddie. You’re the only guy.”

“I would never call you that.” 

“Yeah, because that’s what’s important,” she snaps. 

Eddie sighs peevishly, his own arms crossing, immediately reverting back into the toddler he feels like. 

“Look, Eddie,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “I- I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this on my own. I don’t- I don’t want to bring a baby into this world on my own. I can’t do this by myself.” 

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s- 

“I don’t even know why I did it,” Shannon rambles. “I know you- Eddie, I can’t deal with you lying to me right now. I know you didn’t really want this.”

You’re the one who keeps screwing up, Ramon insists. I’m not going to be around to handle your screw-ups forever.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Eddie insists. “I’m not, I swear. I- obviously, I didn’t mean for this to happen, but you’re not going to be alone, okay? I’m not going to let you do this alone.” 

When he took her shaking body in his arms, he almost believed it. 

Eddie should not have made his favorite song his ringtone. 

Now, every time he hears it, he cringes a little just on principle. Elvis was never going to be bad, but now, instead of signifying the peak of classic rock, it’s the symbol of the thing that drags him out of the wonderful haze of unconsciousness. 

Bleary, Eddie shoves his face into the pillow, squinting at the clock as his phone continues to ring. 

It’s almost 2 in the fucking morning. Fumbling for his phone, Eddie grabs it, eyes still blurred as he struggles to make out the caller ID.

“Buck?” Eddie answers, propping himself up on his elbow. “Buck? Are you okay?”

“Did you feel like you were performing?” Buck blurts out.

…Uh. “What?”

“When you were with me?” Buck asks. “Did you feel like you had to perform when you were with me?”

Sitting up straight, Eddie balks. “Ev- Buck, are you drunk ?”

“That’s so not the point,” Buck whines. “Eds, you could- you could teach a masterclass on missing the goddamn point .” 

His words are so slurred that Eddie isn’t 100% certain he’s understanding. Switching the lamp on, he cringes away from the bright light, blearily trying to find his watch. 

“Buck, are you okay?” Eddie asks, worried. “I can- do you need me to come over?”

“Christopher is sleeping,” Buck snaps, even though Buck knows Christopher is at the hotel with his grandparents. “I’m fine. And you aren’t answering the question.” 

“What was-”

“Did you feel like you were performing?” Buck asks desperately. “Were you just playing a fucking part? Was any of that real ?”

Eddie knows he’s missing some context, but the more that Buck gives him, the more he can piece together- he’s not 100% certain that any of this is real, whether he’s making the right assumptions. But Eddie can hear him- he's crying.

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I need you to take a deep breath. You’re hyperventilating.”

“Eddie, you- we meant so much to me,” Buck sobs. “And you don’t even remember .”

“No, no, I remember,” Eddie says. “I could never forget, Buck. I promise, I remember, I just don’t like thinking about it.”

Buck scoffs. In a way that Eddie knows means he doesn’t believe him, because he does. He knows Buck. 

“Do you remember homecoming?” Eddie blurts out. 

Buck goes silent. Even his heavy, choked breathing slows.

“Do you ?” Buck asks. 

Eddie couldn’t forget Buck, even if he tried. And he fucking tried. He tried, but there wasn’t an acid strong enough to burn Buck’s touch off Eddie’s heart. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I- Um. I remember. You knew every single word to that Pink Floyd song. The punch stained your shirt.” 

“You requested that song for me,” he mumbles. “Twice.” 

He’s almost positive he’s never admitted that. Why would he? 

“I- I thought it would be funny,” Eddie says weakly. 

It was Buck’s favorite song- and Buck liked music. He was always sharing new songs with Eddie, and even if music didn’t make him feel all that much —nothing really did— he wanted to see Buck happy. He liked seeing Buck laugh and dance and let himself go, and he fucking loved the idea that he was the one who could make that happen. 

“You told me that you didn’t know, but you did,” Buck says. “You knew it was my favorite song. I know you did.” 

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, propped up halfway on his bed, in the middle of the fucking night. He wishes he had better words. Or any words, at this point. 

“Were you faking it with me?” Buck demands. “Were you only being nice to me because you thought it was ‘the right thing to do?’ Was any of it real ?”

“Oh, Buck,” Eddie says, sighing. “Yes, of course it was, but it’s not the same. We weren’t- you know.”

“You’re right,” Buck says insistently. “It’s not. We weren’t fake , Eddie. I would never ask you to be someone you aren’t.”

There’s enough venom in his words to poison an entire football team, and guilt- it’s a lot of guilt, sitting on his chest, even though he knows that it’s not directed at him. 

Pulling a random pair of sweats out of his closet, Eddie keeps the phone wedged in his shoulder, tilting his neck to hold it there.

“You said it was a fake it til you make it kind of thing,” Buck says. “Were you faking it?”

“No,” Eddie says, and the honesty of the words almost floors him. “No, not- not like that.” 

“I still love you,” Buck says, like he’s delivering a death sentence. “And I know it’s not fair. I know it’s not fair to tell you that, okay? I know it’s not fair for me to resent you, but I do.” 

“Oh, Buck-” 

“You won’t love me back,” Buck says. “I know the love is there, alright? I feel it, all the time, when you can’t help yourself. I can fucking feel it, Eddie. The love is there, but you’re choosing not to love me.” 

He’s rambling, so drunk that Eddie could pretend not to understand. He could act like he doesn’t know what Buck is saying, because it doesn’t make any sense.

But Eddie knows. He knows, because this is Evan Buckley. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says feebly, searching desperately for his wallet. “Baby, that’s not what I meant.”

“You said it,” Buck says. “You said it, Eddie. That I was the first person to know that you couldn’t love anyone. That means- that means you didn’t have real feelings for me. That means that I was just being fucking crazy, Eddie. I’m losing my mind. I knew this was going to happen and it didn’t fucking matter. I had no choice , Eddie.”

Eddie’s trying to follow along, but the drunken ramble coupled with the intense slur definitely isn’t helping his listening comprehension skills. 

“I’m making myself crazy,” Buck says. “I’m genuinely losing my mind trying to convince myself that there’s something between us. Because I feel it. I actually believe it, Eddie, I’m- I’m crazy .” 

“No, Buck,” Eddie says. “Listen to me.”

“I’m-”

“Shut up. Breathe, and listen to me,” Eddie says. “You’re not crazy, okay?.” 

He can do this. Buck is too damn drunk to even process, he might not even remember.

“What- what does that mean?” 

Eddie grips his phone tighter as the lump in his chest just gets heavier.

“You’re not crazy,” Eddie says softly. 

Buck doesn’t answer him. All he can hear is Buck’s soft breath, so laborious, and he hangs on to that as he jogs toward the front door. 

 “I’m on my way,” Eddie says. “I’m going to leave now.”

“You need to stay with Christopher.”

“He’s with his grandparents,” Eddie corrects gently. “Evan. Baby, I need you to drink some water, okay?”

“Water,” Buck says slowly, picking each syllable apart like he’s sounding it out. “Did- did you know bones are almost 40% water? Doesn’t that seem wrong ?”

He keeps rambling about water even as the phone transfers to bluetooth, talking about oceans and the general human desire to explore space, and how weird it is that we explore space and not the ocean. Eddie doesn’t even need to say anything- it takes Buck a solid minute to get through a full sentence, but they go from the ocean to space to planets to atmospheres and the rain cycle, back to water by the time Eddie hits Buck’s neighborhood. 

Pulling Buck’s visitor pass out of his glove compartment, he notches it onto his mirror as he parks, jogging up to Buck’s building. It’s almost 3 in the morning and Eddie forgot a jacket, shivering just slightly as he gets into the elevator. The call drops, and Eddie curses, fumbling for the right key on his lanyard as he makes it to Buck’s door. 

“Buck?” he calls out, a little panicked. “Buck?” 

He hears a choked off cough from the other side of the island, and he can see him sitting in the corner, next to the sink, with- oh god. Two empty bottles next to him. 

Eddie doesn’t run to him, but it’s close. 

Buck’s eyes are closed, and he’s leaning on the wall, the phone still in his hand, and Eddie takes it from him. HIs eyes fly open, a delayed reaction, but Eddie is so grateful he doesn’t even care. 

“What did you do?” Eddie whispers, not really asking. “Two bottles, Buck? What were you thinking?” 

Buck rolls his eyes to the best of his ability. “Tha-the first one was already empty . I jus’ pulled it out so I could make sure it wouldn’t kill me.”

“...what?” 

“The labels-s,s,” Buck slurs. “Nutrifacts.”

“Isn’t there a label on this one?” Eddie asks, although he’s not sure why he’s trying to rationalize with drunk Buck. 

“Well, yeah,” he says. “But what if it was mislabeled? I had to double-um. Double check .”

Yeah, okay. Eddie picks up both of the bottles, setting them on the counter before going back down to Buck, choking on the thick odor of alcohol . 

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, patting his cheek. “I need you to stay awake just a little longer.”
Buck’s eyes pry back open, and he looks at Eddie with all of the awe of the world somehow packed into them. 

Shaky hands reach out, almost stab Eddie in his own eyes, but he manages to dodge it and allow Buck to settle gentle hands on Eddie’s cheeks, stare. 

“You’re real,” he breathes out.

”I’m real,” Eddie murmurs. “Come on.”

Pouty lip. Bratty eyes, and Eddie’s sure he’d be crossing his arms and stomping his foot if he had enough coordination left. The bathroom is on the ground floor of his loft, but his bed is at the top of the stairs. Eddie’s certain he’s going to be throwing up at some point, but he’s just too big to be sleeping on that excuse for a couch. 

Resigning himself to clean-up duty for the rest of the night, Eddie stands up, craning his neck to see if the bed is made. Or soiled. He can’t see, but Buck is getting impatient and he can’t keep doing this to Buck. 

Buck, the best thing he ever truly chose, just for himself.

“Can you stand up?” Eddie asks. 

And bless his heart, Buck tries. He heaves himself up, grasping onto Eddie like he’s a crutch, and it would be pathetic if it wasn’t so fucking adorable. Eddie feels something in his stomach tighten.

“I’m going to pick you up now,” Eddie says. 

Waiting until some sort of recognition manages to settle in Buck’s face, Eddie leans down, arm under Buck’s knees to heave him up. 

“Eddie!” he protests. 

He gets him up the stairs as quickly as he can, a hand behind his head so he won’t hit the mattress too hard- or even the headboard. He’s only wearing a pair of sweatpants, and they look relatively unsoiled, so Eddie pulls all of the blankets off so he won’t choke on his own vomit. 

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Don’t move, okay?”
“Where’y going?” Buck asks, panicked, clammy hand clinging onto Eddie’s arm. “Don’t leave. You just got here .”

“Water,” Eddie says. “And a towel.”

“No,” Buck whines. “You’re- you’re gonna leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie says, gentle, serious. “I’m going to go downstairs, and grab you a bottle of water and a towel from the drawer next to the sink, and then I’ll be right back.”

“And then you’ll leave ,” Buck whines.

Eddie’s given him every reason to believe it. 

Smoothing his sweaty curls back, Eddie hushes him, runs a gentle thumb across his chapped lips, and Eddie’s heart aches. 

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie says. “I promise. I’m staying the whole night.”

His face lights up, silly smile, beaming. “ Really ?” 

“Really,” Eddie says. Promises. He doesn't trust himself to give any more than that.

Not right now.

“Okay,” Buck breathes out, his eyes slowly fluttering shut. "You're my- my favorite." 

Eddie can hear his heart breaking as Buck's words trail off into sweet, soft sleep.

Chapter Text

After their first homecoming - the one Buck planned - Eddie started listening to a lot of Pink Floyd. 

He’s not even sure why. Buck liked lots of different types of music, and rock probably wasn’t even his favorite. 

He had a Pink Floyd phase, though- and when they were driving, Buck always took the aux. Eddie didn’t care much because he didn’t have any music preferences. He didn’t have any preferences, really. 

So, so you think you can tell heaven from hell? 

Homecoming was far from the first time he’d heard that song, but he never got tired of listening to it with Buck. And homecoming- god, he was so fucking radiant during homecoming. He had been so stressed leading up to it, rambling about details and things the rest of the council was falling short on. When Buck had to leave him to go check on… something… Eddie managed to sneak over to the DJ and put in the request for Wish You Were Here , and he could see the way that his eyes lit up from across the damn room. 

Eddie remembered watching him, wondering what it must feel like to care so fucking deeply about something- anything . He didn’t know how. Maybe he’d just never learned, or maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough.

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail, a smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

More than two years later, Eddie’s entire world shifted. Eddie spent her entire pregnancy feeling dramatically insufficient. He didn’t feel real love for her, not the way that he was supposed to- and when he saw those sonogram images, the ones of that little grey blob, he didn’t feel any connection to it. 

Eddie’d known at that point that something in him was inherently damaged, but he’d never truly felt shame like that before.

He didn’t know how to help Shannon. He knew that he needed to provide for her, that this was his fault, and that he was responsible. But Eddie didn’t have enough money or brains to get into a good college, and Christopher would have been four years old by the time he graduated. Four years with no income, no home, and Eddie was sure as fuck not letting his parents make his sisters into parents, too. The Army seemed like his best option, and the more he thought about it, it was his only real option. 

For all of his faults, Eddie’s changed a lot since high school. Teen parenting, enlisting, moving away from home. Building his own home, his own family, with his son. Learning how to stand on his own two feet. Learning how to love. 

He doesn’t really know how that happened, actually. He picked Christopher up, out of his crib, and all of it - guardianship, defensiveness, love, pure love - it kind of just hit him. 

His son . 

Love was weird like that. Eddie couldn’t explain what “love” felt like. People would ask him what his type is, what kind of person he liked or didn’t like and he faltered. Eddie knew what he was supposed to say. The kinds of girls that his parents would want him bringing home, and the kinds of girls that all of his buddies would drool over. And if that was love, then Eddie’s never felt it. 

Eddie loves Christopher. Fact. He loves his sisters. He loved Shannon, too- not in the way he loves his family, but he did love her. 

Eddie doesn’t know what romantic love feels like. He knows what it’s supposed to feel like, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt that way.

Eddie feels something for Buck. 

It’s more intense than anything he’s felt for anyone, even his wife of nearly ten years.

His son comes first. 

If Eddie got a choice, though, he’d choose Buck next. 

Fact.

Did you exchange 

A walk-on part in a war

For a lead role in the cage? 

The closer it got to the start of shift, Eddie starts to come to terms with the stark reality of Buck’s inability to stand. Or, you know, be conscious.

They should talk about it. Eddie knows they should, but he can’t bring himself to wake him up. He’s so peaceful when he sleeps, fucking adorable, like a puppy. He snuffles, cuddling into his pillow, pulling the blankets all the way up to his chin. 

And Eddie stands there watching him like an idiot. 

Sighing, Eddie resolves to breaking into Buck’s phone and copying down his sister’s number. He sends a few texts before sitting at the table, staring at Buck’s text chat. A few false starts, insufficient explanations of things that Eddie isn’t even sure he’s feeling. 

He knows that he can’t leave Buck here with nothing to go on. Even if Buck doesn’t remember their conversation, at all, he’s sure he’ll have questions. Waking up after a blackout is scary, and Eddie was this close to calling out of work just to make sure he doesn’t need to go through that alone, but Christopher’s surfing lessons are just another expense. And Eddie’d do anything for his son, and it’s not like they’re hurting, but it would make him feel better to work their 12 today.

Not to mention, it would be weird for him to call out for the both of them. 

Ugh. Eddie doesn’t trust technology not to send the text before he’s ready, so he tears a sheet of paper out of Buck’s sketchbook, staring at it.

Hey, you, out there on your own

Sitting naked by the phone 

Would you touch me? 

Determined, Eddie starts clicking at the pen, trying not to let himself think too hard. Honesty, the best policy- don’t let himself think too deeply, just be honest. Buck is smarter than Eddie in every way possible, and they’ll figure it out. Buck’s always been willing to figure it out, and Eddie doesn’t want to hurt him anymore. 

Hey, you. Would you help me carry the stone? 

Who is he to decide what Buck can or can’t handle? 

Open your heart, I’m coming home. 

The knock on the door echoes throughout the entire loft, and Eddie jumps. Buck doesn’t even flinch, still just snoring away, so Eddie hastily tucks the page away into his pocket to open the door for Maddie. 

“Hey,” Eddie says. “I made him some breakfast. But, um. Maybe I should have tossed it a few hours ago- you’re more than welcome to it, it’s just a breakfast sandwich.” 

“The BBBLT?” Maddie asks, surprised, putting her stuff down on the table. 

Eddie stumbles. “Oh, yeah. He showed me in Texas- he never told me where it came from, though.” 

Buck had been so proud of it. A BLT was not exactly breakfast food, but Buck was insistent on showing Eddie his version. The Buckley Breakfast Bacon Lettuce and Tomato sandwich, which basically was a BLT with too much bacon. The name works on every level, Buck had insisted. 

Of course, back then, he was still Evan. So he should have guessed that it was a family recipe. 

Maddie looks at him, her arms crossed, squinting just a little bit. It shouldn’t be intimidating. She’s smaller than both of his sisters and if she’s got any of Buck in her, then she wouldn’t hurt a fly, but he still feels like he needs to cover his jugular or something. 

“He never showed me a picture,” Maddie says. “I’ve heard your name, and tons of stories, but I had no idea what you looked like. You look different in my head.”

What the fuck. “I have no idea how to respond to that.” 

“Are you going to hurt my brother again?” Maddie asks. 

Wow. Shovel talk after three or four sentences has to be a new record. 

“I don’t want to,” Eddie says. And she has no idea how much he means it. “Look, um. I don’t want to speak for him but we have some things we need to figure out. And this whole thing has proven that to me. I don’t want to hurt him.”

She squints, just a little, arms still crossed. Slow, scrutinizing, she looks him up and down, lips pursed, and Eddie just stands there. Lets himself be… added up, or whatever she’s doing. Tries not to fidget, but he’s already been too transparent today and this is pushing it. 

“Thanks for coming,” Eddie blurts out. “I already let Bobby know what was going on, so he’s all cleared to miss work today, I just didn’t want him to wake up alone.”

“It’s no trouble,” Maddie says. “Do you need any help with your son? Buck mentioned he has cerebral palsy, and I used to be an ER nurse.”

“No, we’re okay,” Eddie says. “Carla’s been amazing at picking up my slack.”

“Oh, did Buck introduce you to Carla?” Maddie asks, beaming. “She’s been really great for us, too. I’m glad she’s in your corner.”

“I know,” Eddie hums. “Can’t believe we were lucky enough to get this. Buck just happens to have an ex, who has a mother with Alzheimer's, who needed a healthcare aide, who just happened to be Carla. I’m not going to do the math, but the chances of that have gotta be really damn low.” 

Maddie doesn’t answer for long enough that Eddie needs to turn, make sure she’s okay. She’s staring up at the loft, eyes hardened and lips pursed just slightly, the way Buck’s do when he’s trying not to say something. 

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing,” she says, too quickly, and Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“You’re a worse liar than your brother,” he says. “Just tell me.”

“Nothing, it’s just- Abby didn’t introduce Buck to Carla.”

What. “What?”

“Carla was our aide before she was Abby’s,” Maddie explains. 

…Uh. 

Eddie doesn’t have half of Wikipedia buried somewhere in his recall. The only things he knows about home health aides are what Carla taught them, and what little he’d managed to learn outside of that for Christopher. 

He doesn’t remember Buck having any chronic disabilities, and a genetic condition wouldn’t make any sense. Maddie did say that Carla was “their” aid, for both of them, but that sort of thing is typically long-lasting and something that Eddie would have noticed. Buck hasn’t had any aide or anyone in the year Eddie’s lived in Los Angeles. 

“I was still living in Pennsylvania with my ex-husband,” Maddie says, taking pity on Eddie’s confusion. “After Buck failed out of community college, he got into a huge blow-up with our parents, and by the time someone told me he’d been gone for days. But he was an adult, and we’d- we’d lost contact. Doug and I got divorced- he was abusive.”

Eddie sucks his teeth gently. “Damn.”

“You’re not going to say you’re sorry?” Maddie asks. 

Eddie looks at her sideways. “Do you want me to?”

She watches him, and Eddie watches her work through the thought process- so similar. 

“No,” she says. “Not really.” 

“You got yourself out,” Eddie says. “Which already makes you one of the strongest people I know. I don’t know what my pity would do for you.” 

Buck had complained constantly about Maddie and her stupid boyfriend Doug, who quickly became her stupid husband Doug.

“I am, by the way,” Eddie says. “Sorry.”

And maybe they should be able to talk to each other a little easier, because Eddie understands when she swallows, looking at him with shiny eyes, as he tries to find words to put to the feeling.

“You’re not helpless,” Eddie says. “You got yourself out.”

”I know,” she says. 

Eddie nods. Good.

“I got a call from a hospital in Peru,” Maddie says, continuing Buck’s story like he’d never interrupted. “And I didn’t really speak enough Spanish to know what was going on, but they told me he’d been in an accident. By the time I got to Peru, he was awake, but he still wasn’t talking.” 

Maddie might as well be speaking Greek. This is all completely new information, and Eddie suddenly feels underprepared for this conversation.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks stupidly. “What accident?” 

“I don’t really know,” Maddie admits. “Someone called the police on him. It didn’t- I mean, nothing happened to him, necessarily, but he wasn’t okay. I felt like he was disintegrating right before my eyes. He hadn’t been eating, hadn’t been taking care of himself, and- when I hugged him, I swear I could feel him falling apart in my arms.” 

“I left Doug, and he was still recovering,” Maddie says. “And he needed more help. So the hospital connected us with Carla. She set me up to do some work in Los Angeles, stayed home with Buck while he was recovering, eventually helped him get into the academy.” 

“He seems fine now,” Eddie says dumbly. 

“He’s better,” Maddie says. “We haven’t talked much about Peru, or what he did on the way down there, but it was scary. He calls them his ‘big breakdowns.’”

“Them?” Eddie asks. “It happened more than once?” 

This time, she looks surprised. 

“Yeah,” she says. “What, do you think he wanted to leave El Paso?” 

It’s not until she says it that he realizes how painful of a memory she’s recalling. The last time he saw Evan before showing up in his firehouse almost nine years later- how Eddie pushed him away, practically slammed the door in his face, and still managed to resent Evan for not breaking back in. 

Eddie’d think the anger would fade when he realizes the hypocrisy, but that just makes it worse. 

She mutters something under her breath, so Eddie’s sure he’s not doing a great job at controlling his face. 

“As close as the two of you are, it’s a wonder to me how you barely talk,” Maddie says. “And I know my brother, so I know that’s not his decision.” 

Eddie’s spent years trying to condition himself out of the ugly defensiveness he gets when his stomach starts to wrench, but Eddie’s heart is beating so fast. Knowing that Buck had a breakdown severe enough to put him in hospital, in a foreign country. Knowing Eddie can’t even imagine what Buck’s been through, knowing that he’s comparing that pain to what Eddie’d done to him. 

It’s Eddie’s fault. His responsibility.

All of his consciousness is going into breathing silently and he doesn’t have anything left for unhealthy coping mechanisms.

“We talk,” Eddie protests. “We just- He hasn’t brought it up. What do you want me to say?”

“Do you have anything to say?” Maddie asks. “I feel like if I hurt someone who I actually loved, I’d have a lot to say about that.”

“So, what then?” Eddie snaps. “Is this an ultimatum? Either I do what you want or you rat me out to our entire team?”

Patented Buckley eye roll. It’s much less endearing on anyone other than Buck. 

“Chimney and I have been together almost four years now,” Maddie says. “And there’s nothing that kills him more than having to keep secrets, so if I ever outed you, you’d know.” 

Objectively speaking, Eddie has no reason to cringe away from the word, but he does. 

“I know I have no right to ask that from you.” 

“You’re right. You don’t,” she agrees. “But Buck does.” 

Fingering the page in his pocket, Eddie doesn’t look at her. 

He’s already hurt Buck, so badly- and maybe Buck wanted Eddie. Maybe he’s managed to convince himself that Eddie would be enough for him, because he’s so dumb. He’s managed to convince himself that this is all he deserves, that Eddie is all he’s allowed. 

But it was only fantasy 

The wall was too high, as you can see 

For the first time in a while, Eddie kind of hates himself for being right. 

“I know you think I’m being overprotective,” Maddie says, interrupting his spiral.

He huffs, even though he has no reason to be all self-righteous. He has sisters. “No. I get it.” 

She just stares at him as he stares at literally anything other than her. Eddie’s head hurts. And he’s tired. 

“Thanks, Maddie,” he says distantly. “Thank you. For keeping me in the loop.”

“It’s no trouble,” Maddie says, echoing her words from earlier. Buck does that, too- he doesn’t know if she’s doing it on purpose. 

“Alright, well,” Eddie says, turning on his heel. “Thanks.” 

He doesn’t give her enough time to answer, closing the door behind him. 

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free. 

Buck wouldn’t ever leave him.

Eddie wishes doing the right thing sucked a little less.

Chapter Text

Buck’s immediate thought revolves around how he is definitively not as young as he used to be. 

Every single bone in his body aches from the force of puking his guts out all night. 

The curtains are closed, but the bottom of the loft is still open and someone is making noise in his kitchen. 

Oh, fuck. 

Pieces of the night start floating back. 

Freezing, Buck tries not to move, not give any indication to Eddie that he’s awake. If he’s awake, then he’s conscious, and if he’s conscious then they’re going to need to talk.

What about? 

…actually, Buck has no fucking idea. 

I don’t think I learned how to love anyone. 

You know that more than anyone. 

It gutted him- then Eddie invited him to spend the night, something Buck would usually kill to do, and he declined. Went home, and then-

Oh, god. What the fuck did he do?

Before he can talk himself out of it, Buck throws the blankets off, heading toward the stairs as soon as he’s confirmed he can still stand. And walk. 

The downstairs noises haven’t stopped, so Buck leans heavily on the railing as he prepares himself for whatever the fuck is about to happen. What does Eddie want to do? Are they going to talk? Is Eddie going to shut him down, and they just- pretend like nothing happened?

It’s kind of incredible how Buck has managed to fuck this up again.

Halfway down the stairs, the bathroom door opens and Buck almost loses his footing, meeting Maddie’s eyes as she walks out. 

She smiles at him, easy as ever, heading back into the kitchen while Buck works through the information he’s having trouble processing. “Disappointed” isn’t the right word because Buck will never be disappointed to see his big sister, but he’s confused. Maddie definitely wouldn’t be drunk Buck’s first call in this type of crisis. Actually, though, she might be sober Buck’s first call. Maybe he’s developing a stronger sense of sanity. Bleeds over even into his incapacitated mind. That’s true character growth. 

“Good morning,” Maddie says, facing away from him. 

“Hey, Mads,” Buck says. “Um. What are you doing here?”

She snorts, nodding toward the bottles next to the sink. “You had a rough night and made some drunk decisions. Eddie didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Oh. fuck. So much for character growth.

“Oh, god. Did I text him?”

“I’m pretty certain you called him, actually,” Maddie says.

Was any of that real?

“We actually had a really nice talk,” Maddie says, missing his fleeting moment of dramatic despair. “He’s just as pretty as you said.”

“I know, right?” Buck says, distracted. “Uh, did- what happened?”

“He texted me this morning asking me to take over babysitting,” Maddie says. “I think he was with you for most of the night- here’s your phone, by the way.”

Okay. Buck can do this. Figure out the art of questioning without accidentally revealing any new details. 

“Did he tell you anything?” Buck asks awkwardly, opening his messages. Nothing from Eddie. 

“Just that you guys have some stuff to talk about.”

Oh, god. Oh, no. What the fuck did he say? 

“Like what?”

She shrugs, setting a glass of water down in front of him before pulling out a bottle of aspirin. “Didn’t say. Sit down. Drink that.”

Grumbling, he does as he’s told, quickly finishing the glass of water before turning his phone back on. 

From the last five seconds, Eddie hasn’t sent any texts but Buck checks anyway. What the fuck else is he supposed to do now?

“Evan, I have to ask you something,” Maddie says. “Why didn’t you tell Eddie what happened in Peru?”

His blood freezes. Why would he? Eddie doesn’t know what happened in Peru because nobody knows what happened in Peru. Hell, Buck barely remembers, and he’s already having a hard time forming coherent sentences. Now is not the time to be digging up old pains, especially not ones as irrelevant as this. 

“Because it has nothing to do with him?” Buck says eventually.  uncomfortably. “Why would I tell him that?”

She scoffs. “I told Chimney about what happened with Doug.”

“Yeah, because that’s directly related to how you currently function in relationships,” Buck says. “Which is something you share with your partner.” 

Maddie levels the look at him. The one that Buck would imagine typically comes from a mother, which doesn’t have as much of an effect on him because although she raised him, she’s still his sister. 

“What?” he snaps.

“Evan.”

“Don’t “Evan” me,” he says. “If you have something to say, then say it. I’m too hungover for this.” 

“I just think that you’ve been shoving some things under the rug and they’re coming out to bite you,” Maddie insists. “How long are we going to keep pretending like Peru didn’t happen?”

“Because it didn’t,” Buck says. “As far as everyone knows, it didn’t. You don’t know that anything happened in Peru, Maddie. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“So, tell me,” she insists. “Tell Carla.”

Buck glares at her. Like he hasn’t tried. He’s sat across from Carla, with different therapists, with Eddie. He’s tried to find words to explain, but everything that he’s managed to come up with sounds even more pathetic than Buck feels. 

What’s he supposed to say? 

“Why would I bring that up?” Buck asks. “Now, of all times? What difference is this going to make?”

“Evan,” she says again. “Look me in the eye and tell me that Peru had nothing to do with Eddie.” 

“It didn’t,” Buck insists. 

It has nothing to do with Eddie. Or- or maybe it has everything to do with Eddie. Buck doesn’t even fucking know.

After leaving Texas, going back to Hershey, Buck remembers feeling empty. Numb, almost. Kind of like all of the joy and authenticity and truth he’d managed to uncover in Texas didn’t leave with him. He’d lost it somewhere along the way, or maybe he just didn’t deserve it anymore. 

Whatever the reason, every bit of peace and stability he’d managed to foster soured. Everything got a little louder, a little brighter and somehow completely dulled over, all at the same time. Everything felt weak and flat except for the things that might as well be tearing him in two. None of it made sense. Buck couldn’t explain what he was feeling, no matter how hard Maddie had tried to understand. 

Buck  spent so much time in college trying to find a way to mitigate those feelings- find a way to feel pain without leaving scars, feel happiness without adrenaline or drugs or alcohol. Surround himself with things that are making kids his age feel happy, hope that one day, he’d figure his shit out, too. Offer himself up to anyone who seemed interest, try to ignore the desperate little boy inside of him who couldn’t help hoping that this time around, this person would keep him. 

By the time Buck made it down to Peru, he was staggering through life barely conscious, exhausted, lost. He knew he wasn’t eating enough, taking care of himself- he knew he wasn’t okay, but fuck if he knew what to do about it. 

Vaguely, he thought he might just party himself to death. Definitely wasn’t the worst possible outcome.

Buck was fine. Honest, he was fine- he woke up every morning and found some way to ignore the incessant noise in his head. He was fine. If he ate less, slept less, he managed to keep himself from thinking too deeply about anything.

He was fine. And then he wasn’t.

Buck’s been asking himself the same questions for years now. Why didn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he pick himself up, get his shit together? Eat a balanced meal, try harder in college? He did all of that when he and Maddie moved to LA. Proved to her and to Carla that he could take care of himself, he just- he just wasn’t. 

Why? 

Who knows? Certainly not Buck. 

“Nothing happened,” he says again. “Look, I need to take a shower, okay?” 

Buck doesn’t wait for her response, taking his phone into the bathroom, nervous. 

I heard that I drunk dialed you

Hope i didn’t embarrass myself too bad

[eddie]: good morning. Take an aspirin and drink water

It’s sweet. Maybe Buck wasn’t Desperate Drunk, maybe he was just Pathetic Drunk. Eddie usually likes pathetic Buck. Maybe it’s not that bad. 

     You’re so bossy

Bubble. Eddie fucking bubbles him, and there’s no reason why that makes Buck as nervous as it does. Eddie’s an entire adult, at the job where Buck is supposed to be, too. 

[eddie]: take care of yourself, buck

Frowning, Buck’s fingers hover over the keyboard, grip on the phone just tightening. 

     Am I going to get to see you later? 

[eddie]: I’m a little busy this week but a Chris will be expecting you on Wednesday 

Busy? Eddie’s not busy. Buck saw his calendar yesterday, it was barren. Eddie barely has friends. Buck is his fucking friend. And- and since Buck has missed this shift, he actually wont see Eddie again until Wednesday evening. Either he’ll be off or Eddie will be off and Buck won’t be able to see him, truly gauge how much damage control he needs to be doing. 

      Okay

      thank you for coming over. I would thank you for specifics if I remembered anything beyond throwing up with the force of my entire body weight 

[eddie]: no thanks necessary. I’m glad you’re feeling better. 

“Feeling better.” Well. That’s news to Buck.

~~~

He’s almost a half hour early for dinner, but that’s not exactly unexpected. Christopher’s science club was finished at 4:30, and Buck had given them about an hour to get home and settled before showing up at 5:30. Eddie had probably scheduled it for 6:00 just to give them extra time, but it’s not like they need it. Chris is a good kid and Buck makes dinner more often than not, anyway. 

He and Eddie hadn’t talked. At all. Eddie’s dodging his calls or he’s just insanely busy, which is highly unlikely considering Eddie doesn’t know how to make friends. 

Using his key, Buck gets inside, carefully shutting it behind him. 

“Here!” He says, dropping his keys in the bowl. 

“Buck!” Christopher shouted from somewhere in the depths. Buck wanders over to the living room, seeing both Diaz boys headed out from the general direction of their rooms. Eddie looks exhausted, tired eyes fixing on Buck’s. 

Ah, fuck. Maybe Buck needs to learn some patience. 

“Sorry, I know I’m early,” he says sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure what we were doing for dinner so I wanted to see what we have, give myself some time to get extra groceries if we need.”

“Oh, I ordered some Chinese food,” Eddie says awkwardly. “I didn’t want to expect you to cook, I know you just got off shift.” 

Oh. 

“I always cook,” Buck says, trying to keep his tone light. “But Chinese is fine. Less work for me, and more time for me and Chris to destroy you in Mario Kart.”

Christopher heads off to go grab his Switch, and Buck stands back up, smiling at Eddie. He’s still leaning against the frame, arms crossed. Face blank, but not in the peaceful way.

Buck goes to stand next to him, bumping his shoulder playfully. “Hey.” 

“Hi,” Eddie murmurs, looking him over. 

“I’m sorry for calling you.” 

Eddie snorts. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Okay, well, I’m still sorry,” Buck mumbles. “You seem upset.” 

“I’m not,” Eddie says blankly. 

…okay. Buck doesn’t want to be dramatic, but he’d have more faith in a pig playing darts. 

The pit in his stomach feels heavier, and not because of the Chinese food. Eddie is quiet for the rest of the night, responding and engaging when necessary, but still tense. Not the way he’s supposed to be with just the three of them. Buck isn’t sure if he should push the issue, try to involve him more, but Christopher doesn’t seem worried when they bid him goodnight and Buck refuses to create anxiety for that kid. 

After closing his door, Buck heads back toward the kitchen to help Eddie with the leftovers, but he’s already finished. Actually, he’s pulling food out of the fridge, not putting it away. 

“Midnight snack?” Buck asks. “Or. 10:00 snack, I suppose. Midnight snack, but in honor of the central time zone.” 

Eddie laughs, but it’s humorless. “Nah. Christopher’s lunch for tomorrow- he’s taking the bus.”

Buck knows for a fact they’re both off tomorrow, but Eddie doesn’t say anything about Buck staying over, or even just hanging out. That’s usually how this goes. Family time with Christopher, and then some BuckandEddie time after he’s gone to bed. But Eddie isn’t giving him anything right now. It’s like pulling teeth, and Buck feels like he’s in fight or flight. 

“Do you want to watch Backdraft or something?” Buck asks. “Some old movie we can cook our brains with?”

Eddie doesn’t turn around, still intent on making his son’s lunch for tomorrow. “I don’t know, Buck. To be honest, I’m, um. Kind of tired.”

Buck has half a mind to stand there with his arms crossed until Eddie gets uncomfortable enough to talk to him. 

“Do you need anything before I go?” Buck asks. 

They stand there for long enough that Buck is starting to think he forgot to say it out loud. 

“Okay,” Buck says awkwardly. “I hope you’re okay.” 

He doesn’t know how else to say it. He doesn’t know how else to say it- that he knows something is wrong. Buck knows something has shifted, and Eddie knows it, too. and Eddie knows Buck knows. And Buck knows that Eddie knows. 

“Buck, wait.” 

Pause. Patience. 

“Can you sit down?” Eddie asks weakly. 

Dumbly, Buck nods, pulling out his chair. Eddie finishes closing up the lunchbox, tossing the empty ingredients aside before sitting down with what Buck is pretty certain is his third beer. 

“I know you don’t remember anything about that night,” he starts. “When you got drunk. And called me. And- and I don’t know how much of it you meant.” 

“So we are gonna talk about it.”

“I wasn’t sure how to bring it up,” Eddie explains. “But you said some things. And we talked, and I- we can’t keep doing this.” 

Anger is hot, but terror is cold. It’s cold and it freezes him up, and Buck starts to panic, almost like his heart starts to pick up to overcompensate and keep him from freezing to death. Something about adrenaline passes through his head, no matter how fleeting, and Buck tries not to let himself lose his shit. 

“Doing what?” he asks, trying to keep his voice level. 

Eddie sighs, gesturing at the table between them. Empty table, makings of the turkey and cheese sandwich Eddie’s packed for Christopher. Four caps, at least two of them Eddie’s.

“This,” Eddie says. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Buck.” 

Like that’s such breaking news.

“I already knew that,” Buck says. 

“I can’t be what you want,” Eddie says. “I can’t, Buck. I need to put my son first, I need to keep my head on straight.”
Buck scoffs, rolling his eyes. Anger is hot. It burns. “If you’re going to break up with me, save me the cop-out bullshit.”

Eddie blinks owlishly. “What are you talking about?”

“I love that kid,” Buck snaps. “Don’t even fucking imply that I’d do anything that would make his life harder.”

Eddie pauses, a flicker of surprise passing through his sad eyes, and Buck almost feels bad. But he can’t. He’s given more of himself to Eddie than to anyone, so he should know more than anyone how much Buck loves Christopher.

“No, I didn’t mean- I know that,” Eddie says. “Evan, I still- we’re still us, I just- it needs to stay friends.”

“I thought we were friends,” Buck says, snarking. “Remember? Friends, who just “do this” sometimes?”

It’s cruel and unfair for him to throw that back in Eddie’s face. Eddie had been honest about what they were and what Buck could expect, and Buck just kept taking and taking and taking. 

“Come on, Evan,” Eddie bites out. “You know we’re not.” 

“How am I supposed to know that?” Buck asks. “What the fuck do you mean, I know? How am I supposed to know anything when you won’t even fucking talk to me, Eddie?”

Some punched out noise forces its way out of Eddie’s throat. He digs the heel of his hand in his eye, breathing heavily, jaw clenching. Shutting down. Buck doesn’t want to let him shut down anymore. 

“You need to start being honest with yourself,” Buck says. “And if, for some godforsaken reason, you’re too stupid to do it for yourself, then do it for your son.” 

Eddie blinks. “What are you talking about?” 

“He’s not stupid,” Buck says. “He sees you. Suppressing parts of yourself to try to make your parents happy, and I’m not even talking about the gay thing.”

“Buck-“

“Look, all I’m saying is that you aren’t the only person who’s affected by this,” Buck says. “And I- I’m trying to be patient, okay? I know this is hard. It’s not easy. It’s not.”

Buck swears he can see Eddie’s eye twitch. Every muscle in his body wound tight with stress. Buck wants to kiss him, drag all of that tension right out of his body and it’s not fair. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not.

“Turns out I’m not selfless enough for this,” Buck says. “I’m sorry.”

“If you keep apologizing for that, I’m going to pop a blood vessel,” Eddie bites out. 

“So what are you saying, then? I deserve some white knight, perfect partner out of a storybook?” Buck asks in disbelief. “Too bad. I want you. You’re saying I deserve someone better? Then be better, Eddie.”

“You deserve someone who isn’t embarrassed,” Eddie says, flustered. “Because I know you. And I know every time I ask you not to tell someone, you feel more shame. And I’m- I’m not going to be someone who gives you another reason not to believe in yourself, Buck. I’m not.”

“You can’t even say it,” Buck says, accusatory. “What are you scared of, Eddie? There’s nobody else here, Eddie. It’s just me. And you can’t even say it.” 

“I don’t-”

“Kissing another dude is pretty fucking gay, Eddie,” Buck says. “It’s gay. You’re fucking gay.” 

“I’m not,” Eddie snaps. “Because- because it’s not guys. It’s not girls, either, it’s just- it’s just you.”

“What is?” Buck asks. “What’s me? What am I?” 

It’s pathetic. He’s pathetic. Making Eddie’s crisis all about him.

“Why did you leave Texas?” Eddie blurts out. It’s such a stupid question that Buck has to take a second to laugh, incredulous. 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Buck asks. “You know why I fucking left Texas, Eddie. Because I was not going to sit around and watch you pretend to be someone you weren’t.”

“You’re fucking lying,” Eddie says. “Maddie said you didn’t want to leave.”

And this new alliance is horrible news and Buck does not like one bit of it. “Tell Maddie to stay out of my damn business the next time you guys are gossiping about me,” he spits out. 

“Why did you leave?” Eddie asks desperately. “She said you didn’t want to.”

“I didn’t,” Buck says. “I didn’t. But I was worried if I stayed, then I’d- I didn’t trust myself not to do something stupid.”

“Wait,” Eddie says. His eyes get wider, shoulders tense- he stares at Buck, intense, desperate in a way that Buck’s not familiar with. “What does that mean?”

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

Buck falters, tries not to shrink back in on himself- he can’t break Eddie’s gaze, but he can’t- he can’t do this, either.

“It’s not your fault, Eddie,” he says eventually. 

“Tell me what that means.”

“Eddie,” Buck insists. “it’s not your fault.”

“Buck, I swear to-“ 

“Eddie, I promise, it’s not a big deal-

“Jesus Christ, Evan!”

When he stands up, the force of it shoves the table away. 

He’s yelling. Buck’s never heard him yell before, not like this. 

“You’re still trying to make me feel better about it,” Eddie says. “This is not about me, Evan. I’m not worried about me.”

“Well, I am!” Evan snaps. “I am. Because if you start beating yourself up about this, I’m never going to forgive myself for that.”

“I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if you had-”

“I know that,” he snaps. “That’s why I left, you fucking idiot.” 

It’s not healthy, and Buck knows. He knows that it’s shitty to admit that to Eddie, to put all of this extra pressure on someone who’s already struggling. 

But he was trying to be honest with himself. Be honest about what he’s been through and what he can take. 

And it was a time of his life where he didn’t trust himself to keep living on his own. He didn’t trust in himself, that any of his goals were realistic or that he’d be able to do anything he might want to live for. 

But there were some people-

Maddie. Eddie.

They cared about him. And they knew what a mess Buck was. And they would have blamed themselves, and Buck couldn’t do that to them.  

Maddie practically inherited that kind of responsibility. When Daniel died, their parents took most of the grief and left her with the scraps and a savior baby, the responsibility of being the only person who Buck knew how to love. 

And then he grew up, she moved away, and Buck met Eddie. 

Eddie was his first in all of the ways that mattered. 

The first person he committed to, the first person who he learned how to love. The first person who chose him, and the first person who knew him.

When Buck examines the two times he lost his damn mind, it made sense that Eddie’d be the first. 

He hasn’t been able to admit to anyone that Eddie was also the second. 

Buck hasn’t figured out a way to describe his Big Breakdowns without assigning blame. Because Eddie might have been part of the reason, but he wasn’t the problem. When Buck pulled himself out of it, got back on his own two feet, he would be lying if he claimed he did it for himself. 

When things get shitty, Buck can’t think about himself. If he does, everything just gets worse- 

But it’s one of the things Buck loves and hates the most about himself. His incapability of regulating his feelings- he hates how sad he gets, how angry he can be. He hates how stupid he comes off and how difficult it is to control himself. 

But Buck can feel real joy when he’s eating a mediocre chocolate chip cookie. He laughs at stupid jokes because they’re genuinely funny. He feels pure happiness shooting through his arms and warming his chest when babies smile at him. There’s so much of the world that he wants to learn and love and live. 

When things get bad, Buck has to close his eyes, retreat back into himself, let himself bask in his memories. That time that he and Maddie cut school to go to the playground- the stray dog that he managed to save and take to the shelter. His first real friend, Sasha, who moved away after sixth grade. Maddie’s sixteenth and eighteenth birthdays. His first day at the LAFD academy, first day at the 118- all of his coworkers, his real family. Maddie, Chimney, Jee-Yun. 

Christopher. 

Eddie. 

It didn’t matter what they went through. It doesn’t matter how they ended, doesn’t matter that Eddie could tear him to pieces. 

Buck was still grateful to have loved Eddie. He was so fucking grateful to be seen by Eddie, so grateful to be allowed into Eddie’s life. Buck couldn’t regret choosing Eddie, even as he stands here, in Eddie’s kitchen, crumbling in the hands of someone who couldn’t love him.

It didn’t matter. Buck doesn’t care what it says about him. 

Whatever they are, their BuckandEddieness, hasn’t yet been ruined by all of the turmoil and tension and pain. Something so pure hasn’t been tainted. 

Maybe Eddie’s right. Maybe they need to stop while they’re ahead. 

Buck nods. Keeps nodding, can’t stop. 

“Okay,” he says, and Buck can hear the tears in his voice, and he hates himself. “Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll go, okay?”

Buck manages to get halfway out of his seat when Eddie’s hand falls on his. Like an anchor. Buck can’t move.  

“I don’t- I don’t want you to leave like this,” Eddie says thickly. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“I don’t, either,” Buck says. 

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Eddie blurts out. 

He can’t help the way he laughs a little, other hand coming up, covering Eddie’s, amazed how he doesn’t even have enough energy left to tense up. 

“I’m going to love you for the rest of my life,” Buck admits. “I don’t care how I have to do that.” 

Single, solitary tear runs down Eddie’s cheek. “Don’t say that.”

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie echoes. “Buck, I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“You know that I…”

Trails off. Buck doesn’t even think Eddie knows where he’s going with that.

Clearing his throat, Eddie swallows heavily. “You know, right?”

And maybe it’s true. Maybe loving someone is letting them go, and that’s all Eddie’s doing. 

Leave him to rot in his own patheticness. 

“I know,” Buck says. “I’ll- um. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Buck squeezes his hand before setting it back on the table, managing to stave off his own tears until he’s closed Eddie’s door behind him. 

Unlovable, he thinks hysterically. He’s gonna be alone for the rest of his damn life.

Chapter Text

Eddie isn’t sure how he’s supposed to be feeling. 

This is stupid. They never put a label on it- Buck was never his boyfriend. Never a booty call. Bullshit friends with benefits, Buck had called it, and Eddie knows that friends with benefits are not supposed to leave him feeling like there's the blade of a knife pressing right at the back of his throat. 

Still, though, all the dread in the world is locked up in his throat, just waiting to spill over. And Eddie waits. He waits, and waits, and waits for the dread to boil over into something stronger, to have an actual reaction. Some big rush of feelings that he can then shove away, but at least he feels something. He doesn’t want to be some psychopathic unfeeling mess. 

He’s not supposed to be sad, and he’s pretty sure that’s not how he’s feeling. 

Eddie wakes up, gets dressed, takes his son to school. Goes to work. Waits. Maybe hanging out in the station will trigger some sort of emotional release. How is it possible that he feels like the world is fucking ending without feeling anything at all?

This is stupid. Eddie’s waiting to have feelings about something that he’s been trying to convince himself isn’t real for months. The fact that he’s managing to hold everything at bay has to be a good thing. It means that they’re good. They’re fine, friends. Friends who sometimes get each other off. Or, they were. Now, they’re just friends, which means that everything is fine and Eddie’s doing the right thing. Everything he’s been trying to convince himself of is true.  

But that meant that everything that Buck was scared of was true, too. 

Buck had looked at him through tears in his eyes and told Eddie he was going to love him forever. Not a promise, or a hope, or even a threat. A warning, maybe. Statement of fact, something that Buck had been utterly resigned to.

I’m going to love you forever.  

He dumps his bag into the locker a little harder than necessary, but the metal will forgive him. Wood and metal don’t feel things. Maybe Eddie should take some notes. 

Buck’s car was already in the parking lot, so Eddie’s not surprised to see him in the kitchen, scrubbing at what seems to be an already pristine counter. Guilt churns somewhere in his stomach before dissipating, shaken out of his body, down, way down. 

He even smiles when Buck turns to look at him, smiling. Just as genuine. Maybe a little sadder. Emptier. 

“Good morning,” Buck says softly.

“Hey.”

“Coffee?” he offers. 

Olive branch? Peace offering? Tentative feeler to see how stupid Eddie feels?
“I’m okay,” Eddie says, not wanting to admit how tired he was. “Um. Are you okay? Need coffee?”

Buck chuckles awkwardly. “I’m fine. And I already made my coffee.”

Oh. “Right. Obviously.”

“You okay?” Buck asks, his brow arching again. 

No. 

“I’m fine,” Eddie echoes. “Maybe I will take a coffee?”
Buck snorts. “Okay, then.” 

He doesn’t say much else, preparing the coffee as Eddie leaned against the counter. It’s still early, most of A-shift not having arrived. There’s a bunch of C-shift leftover, including a new hire who Eddie’s never seen before. He walks through the loft with the type of confidence that could only come from being a stupidly overconfident probie. He also looked like Shrek, which wasn’t helping his case. 

Shrek starts walking over to them, and Eddie thinks he’s probably going to ask for coffee or something when he opens his mouth. 

“Hey there, handsome.”

Shrek Guy smirks when he says it, eyes boring holes in their general direction. Eddie kind of wants to throw up. Part of him feels the urge to step in front of Buck, provide some kind of shield, but that’s not his place anymore. If it ever was. 

Buck rolls his eyes before turning around expectantly, and Eddie realizes that human Shrek was talking to Buck , who isn’t even slightly surprised. Human Shrek was hitting on Buck, like Buck would ever go for this fuck. He better not be asking for coffee, because that’s Eddie’s fucking coffee, which Buck made for him .

Idiot, idiot, idiot. 

“Um. Eddie Diaz, this is Tommy Kinard. He flies the rescue helicopters with the 217,” Buck explains. “Tommy, this is Eddie, our new probie.”

So. Not a probie. Still stupidly posturing and overconfident, despite apparently having had an entire career. Fucker still feels like he needs to prove himself after all these years? Which must be a lot of years, based on how old he looks. 

Eddie’s still reeling, but he glares at Buck.

“Call me that again and I’ll jinx us,” Eddie warns. Tommy raises an eyebrow before Buck snorts. 

“What? You’re technically still the probie.”
“I’ve been here for almost two years,” Eddie retorts, snatching the coffee from Buck’s hands. 

“Evan’s right,” Tommy says. And, for the record, Eddie did not fucking ask. “Just because you’ve passed the probationary period doesn’t take away from your general probie-ness.”

Eddie doesn’t even know what that fucking means. “What?”

Buck laughs. “Tommy, just for the record, Eddie’s just as competent as the rest of us.”

The compliment flies right over his head as he watches Tommy roll his eyes. 

“Tommy worked with the 118 for a while,” Buck explains to Eddie, who’s busy staring at the counter in an attempt not to glare at him. “He left before I joined, but we’ve worked together on rescues.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tommy says. 

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s lying. “Likewise.”

“Just here to drop some paperwork off with Nash,” Tommy says, nodding toward the file in his hands. 

“Never heard of email?” Eddie asks into his coffee. 

Buck looks at him like he’s lost his damn mind. 

“I don’t want to figure that shit out,” Tommy says. “Still waiting for your call, Evan. I’d show you a good night. As many as you’d want, really.” 

He winks, and Eddie might actually throw up in his mouth a little. Buck replaces the coffee pot, and Eddie raises a brow when Buck turns around. 

“What?” Buck asks, flushing. “I- it wasn’t- it’s not my fault.”

“Never said it was,” Eddie says. “Is that? Something that he does, regularly?” 

Buck shrugs, avoiding eye contact with Eddie. “I don’t know.”

“You… don’t know.”

“He met me during my probationary period,” Buck says. “So, you know. Back when I was sleeping with everything that moved. I didn’t sleep with Tommy, but he flirted, and it was nice to be wanted. It’s really not a big deal, he’s here maybe once every month, and we run into each other on calls. So, he flirts. And, I don’t know. I let him.”

“He seems gross, Buck,” Eddie says. Because, seriously, why would someone like Buck ever want someone who looks like Shrek ?

Buck scoffs. “You know, not judging someone on their looks is basically the plot of that entire movie.” 

Oh. Fuck, Eddie did not mean to say that part out loud. 

“It’s not about his looks.” That definitely didn’t help. “It’s about the way he was putting all of that machismo on you, like he was posturing or some bullshit. Like he’s staking a claim on you.” 

Rolling his eyes, Buck scoffs. “Like you can say anything.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Email?” Buck says incredulously. “Eddie Diaz, infamous technophobe, recommended sending important official information over email ?” 

Embarrassment and shame start to tickle Eddie’s stomach, so he shoves it back down.

“He just seems pushy,” Eddie mutters. “I don’t like how he was talking to you.”

“He’s harmless,” Buck says, waving him off. “He’s just a big flirt.” 

“Do you want him to be flirting with you?” Eddie asks, looking at Buck sideways.

“Man, I don’t know,” Buck snaps. “Why do you care?” 

Oh. 

Shit. 

Eddie’s the stupid one, because it doesn’t even strike Eddie as odd until right now that the way he was reacting might have been odd. 

No. It’s normal, right? Normal, to see someone gross flirting with your best friend and wanting to protect them. Feeling a little jealous every time your best friend finds someone they might like more than him. 

We can’t keep doing this. 

I can’t keep doing this to you. 

“You’re right,” Eddie says, and he’s so fucking stupid. Not his place. Never was. “Sorry, I- um. That snuck up on me.” 

“It’s fine,” Buck says. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Completely normal. 

It’s been a long damn time since Eddie’s felt this fucking stupid. 

~~~~

They did it. They had their big, dramatic moment, Buck bared his soul yet again, and then they turned around and went to work and Eddie threw him for another damn loop by acting like a jealous ex. 

I’m going to love you for the rest of my life, Buck had said, and it’s the most honest he’s ever been with Eddie. 

When he’s sad, it feels like salvation. 

When he’s lonely, it feels more like a death sentence. 

The bed was too far from the kitchen, which was too far from the big TV. So he closed the blinds and shoved the furniture around and thrown all of the pillows and blankets he owns onto the carpet, pulling them around him and finding comfort in the soft, dark, warmth. He feels a little pathetic. He did this a lot when he was a kid- dragged blankets and pillows into the closet, even adding in a stupid little futon thing he bought secretly with his allowance. Dark and quiet and safe. 

But Buck isn’t a kid anymore. He’s not supposed to do stupid things like this, but he wanted to be as far away from the outside world as possible. Retreat into himself. Try to get his shit together, not bother anyone else. He’d figure it out. He will, he will, he will. 

There’s a pounding on the door. He doesn’t have any plans today and Eddie and Christopher are at surfing lessons, so Buck assumes it’s either his lonely hindbrain having hallucinations or some delivery he’s forgotten he ordered. Retail therapy is a real thing, and Buck has bought random things and then getting them is like Christmas all over again. 

But then whoever the fuck it is knocks again, and Buck groans. Dragging himself out of bed, he doesn’t bother putting a real shirt on, taking the throw blanket with him as he drags himself out of his stupid pillow nest to go answer the door. It only dawns on him that he should check the peephole when he’s staring at Hen and Chimney, holding two packs of beer and three pizza boxes.

What the fuck. “Are you throwing a rager, or-”

“Invite us in,” Hen says. 

Um?

“Did we have plans that I forgot about?” Buck asks awkwardly. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I cannot express how underprepared I am for company.” 

“That’s why we’re here, Buckaroo,” Chimney says expectantly. “Because something is bothering you and you need to talk about it.”

“And you’d usually go to Eddie, but he’s acting weird, too,” Hen adds. “So either you’re both involved or you just don't want to bother him because he’s going through something, too.”

Sighing, Buck looks over his shoulder at the mess he’s made. “Guys, I don’t even have a couch. I dragged a bunch of pillows and blankets and made a fucking- like- a nest .”

“Pillow party,” Chimney shrugs. “Invite us in, Buck.” 

Glaring at them, Buck sighs, stepping back. “Fine, but we’re not pulling the blinds.” 

“The sun’s already setting,” Chimney says. “

They’re nearly three beers in–each–by the time Chimney brings it up again. 

“Okay,” Chimney says. “So. Spill.” 

“You sound like my sister.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Chimney snarks. “Hurry up. What’s been going on with you, Buck? And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because we’re not stupid.”

“Well, Chim is,” Hen cuts in. “I’m not.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Buck says. 

Chim and Hen exchange a loaded glance, and Buck rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, fine, we can do it the long way,” Hen says. “First of all, is it related to Eddie’s bad mood?” 

“Of course it is,” Chimney says, drawing the words out. “Have you seen the two of them?” 

“Fuck you both,” Buck says brightly. 

“Alright, alright,” Hen laughs. “So, definitely has something to do with Eddie. It’s either family, your love life, or work stuff.” 

That practically encompasses his entire life, but Buck misses the way Hen and Chim stare at him, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“Love life,” Chim announces, shrugging when Buck glares at him. “What? You have a bunch of tells.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish,” Hen snarks. “But your person wouldn’t like that? Would they? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

Buck does his absolute fucking best to school his faces. He’s doing phenomenally, he’s sure of it, complete control over his facial expressions. 

“Boyfriend,” Hen decides. “Definitely a boyfriend.”

Then they stare at him for what feels like a very, very fucking long time, and Buck is a weak man.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Buck blurts out. 

“Who?” Hen asks. 

“And what does this have to do with Eddie?” Chimney adds on. 

Ugh. These two and their stupid inability to leave things alone. 

“Someone Eddie and I knew when we were kids,” Buck says. Half truths are the best lies, after all. “And it’s just- it’s not going well, and Eddie’s taking his side, and it’s frustrating.” 

There. He’s given them an explanation for everyone’s behavior, they’re not going to ask any more questions, not going to tear into his story any more than that.

“Why isn’t it going well?”

“And why doesn’t Eddie want you two together?” Chim cuts in. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Buck says dully. “We ended things a few weeks ago, I’m just- I’m in my head.” 

“Well, talk to us,” Hen pleads. “Come on, Buck. I don’t remember the last damn time any of us had to ask you to talk.”

It’s becoming very clear that neither of them are leaving until they have answers, and Buck is so sick of this bullshit. 

“He wasn’t out in high school,” Buck says. “Eddie, me, and a couple of our friends knew, but that was it. And when we reconnected, he made it abundantly clear that he was “not gay,” but then we started sleeping together.” 

Hen and Chimney direct twin looks of disappointment toward him, and he glares at them. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Why would you do that?”

Why, indeed? 

“I missed him,” Buck admitted. “I- I haven’t loved anyone else like that. Not ever .” 

For all of Buck’s complaints, Buck knew that it wasn’t going to happen. He knew it was cruel to compare absolutely everything and everyone back to this barely-manifested relationship with a closeted teen in Texas. Buck actually spent an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out why . Why was everything with Eddie Diaz so intense? 

But since reconnecting with Eddie, it turns out that Buck hadn’t been imagining it. The intensity, the sheer trust, the way Eddie manages to make him feel seen without even trying. The way that Eddie touches him, the way that he somehow understands what Buck needs without even thinking about it. 

Buck from four years ago would have laughed in his own damn face if he saw this. It was high school. He’s not the same kid he was when he moved to Texas. And Buck might not be the same Evan, but Eddie isn’t the same person who left him, either.

Buck knows he could never deign to understand the way parenting must affect someone, but that doesn’t mean he can’t see it. He feels- he feels awful for Eddie, knowing how hard he’s worked to become someone Christopher could confide in, trust, and depend on. It’s beautiful, of course, that growth, but Buck wishes more than anything that Eddie’d found a reason to do it for himself . Learn to be kind, soft, trusting in himself .

“I know it’s not fair,” he says. “Sexuality and all of that- with the way his parents act, there was no way this was going to be okay. I know it’s unfair for me to be upset that he hasn’t changed, but I don’t know. I don’t know what he’s scared of. He doesn’t even like his parents- he talks to them twice a year.” 

Hen sighs, and Buck can feel the lecture from a mile away. Truly, Buck understands, to whatever extent that may be- he understands that there’s a lot about Eddie’s experience that he probably can’t understand.- it’s not that simple. It never will be, and maybe Buck won’t ever really understand. 

“At some point, you’re going to need to put yourself first,” Hen says gently. “I can tell you care about him, Buck, but sometimes that’s not enough. You can’t push this guy out of the closet if he isn’t ready. And he deserves all the time he needs, but you deserve things too. He needs to be willing to work with you.”

“I love him,” Buck admits. “I just. I love him so much, and I can’t watch him do this to himself but I can’t- I can’t leave him, either.”

“What does Eddie say about that?” Chimney asks, raising his brows until they’re clean off his face.

Buck groans loudly. Dropping his head back onto the floor, he narrowly misses his pillow, and then winces. “Nothing?”
Wait. That doesn’t make any sense, Buck had literally admitted that Eddie wasn’t a fan. And that’s the truth! Eddie’s literally the ones who ended it. 

“Eddie had a firsthand seat to all of the drama,” Buck says. “He was probably the only person who knew how bad it fucked me up. More than my sister, even.” 

Hen and Chim have the same face when they’re lying. Lips pressed together, avoiding eye contact with everyone but each other. They’re telepathically communicating in Buck’s own damn apartment. 

“What?” Buck asks. 

“Eddie’s seen the way this is hurting you,” Chimney says. 

Buck stares. “Yeah?” 

“So, he probably doesn’t want you to hurt any more.” 

“…yeah?” 

“He thinks you deserve better,” Hen says, like this is supposed to be knew knowledge. “He knows that you deserve to be treated better.”

I need to do the right thing, Buck. You wouldn’t understand. 

“Eddie doesn’t know what’s best for me.” 

“Okay, that’s fair,” Hen says, blowing off Chimney’s argumentative squawks. “No, it is. Eddie’s not the most objective opinion on who Buck should be dating, Howie.”

“Why not?” Buck demands, trying to swing his head back over to look at the two of them, but his head is heavy. Heads are fucking heavy. Bowling balls. Probably worse with his thick fucking skull.

“Okay, okay,” Hen says, raising her hands in acquiescence. “Buck, all we’re saying is that you deserve someone who will love you the way you want to be loved, because you deserve that, and not whatever this guy is doing.”

“And that Eddie would probably agree!” Chimney says, and Hen smacks him in the face with an empty pizza box. “Ow!”

“I know, I just don’t think there will ever be anyone who gets me like he does.” 

“Sure there will,” Chimney says. “I can think of someone just off the top of my head.”

Buck looks at them, confused. 

“A certain army veteran?” Chimney says. “Has a weird fixation on you?” 

Buck’s face starts to react before he can stop himself. “ Seriously ?”

Okay, look. Buck knows they’ve patched things up with Tommy, relatively, but there had to be a reason he’s never invited to any of their 118 hangs. And if he is, he doesn’t show up. 

Hen smiles softly. “Come on, Buck. We’re around whenever you start obnoxiously flirting with him.” 

“I’m not flirting with him!” Buck protests. “He- I’m just trying to be nice, I don’t know what to do when he gets like that.” 

“Oh, please,” Chimney says. “You play right into his hands. And there’s nothing wrong with it, you know?” 

Ugh. Frankly, Buck doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do when Tommy starts getting all lewd with him. Buck’s at work, after all, and he’s supposed to be professional- and frankly, he had been doing his best. He genuinely hadn’t any idea that he had been flirting back with him, playing into his hands- but it makes sense. He’s always been a little shit about flirting, and that’s why Tommy won’t leave him alone. Because Buck is leading him on. 

“I thought you said he was hopeless.”

“He’s not hopeless, he’s helpless,” Chimney corrects. 

“Eddie called him Shrek,” Buck blurts out. 

Chimney looks at Hen, who looks at Buck. They stare, and then they finally look at each other, and Hen starts laughing as loud as he’s ever heard her. Chimney just stares, wide eyed, almost like he didn’t hear Buck right. They keep staring at each other until Hen pulls on his arm.

“Come on, Chim,” she gasps. “ Shrek .” 

Chimney chokes, the delayed response somehow setting Hen off even more, and Buck is decidedly not drunk enough for this. Eyeing the beer, he thinks about another one, or the vodka he’s pretty sure he managed to stash far enough away that Maddie couldn’t find it. 

“That’s so funny,” Chimney gasps. “Oh my God. Diaz is such a little princess.” 

“ Shrek ,” Buck emphasizes. “And you think I should- I should go for him, anyway?

“Aw, come on,” Chimney says. “I know that’s a point of contention, but surely it’s not a dealbreaker.”

Right. Of course. Physical appearance isn’t supposed to matter, and it’s not even like Buck necessarily agreed with Eddie. 

Tommy’s hot. He’s ridiculously out of Buck’s league, older, more knowledgeable. But if Tommy’s still willing to give him a shot, then maybe he’s supposed to be trying. 

I have to do the right thing. You wouldn’t understand. 

“Okay,” Buck says. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay? I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

Not sure how much of a note of finality he’s capable of threading into his words, but Buck could really care less at this point. Digging his phone out of his pocket, he struggles, but manages to compose a text to Tommy before tossing his phone in the general direction of Far, Far Away. 

Chim and Hen are trying to take the tops off the last two beers, and Buck snorts.

Yeah, they’re all going to regret this in the morning. 

Chapter Text

Eddie doesn’t often make promises. He’s seen parents be one way in front of their children and completely different around literally everyone else, and he doesn’t have the energy for that kind of on and off switch. So, if he wanted to be good to his son, he had to figure out a way to be good. Point, blank, period. 

He hadn’t succeeded in that. The best version of Eddie is still just some version of Eddie, but he did figure one thing out. Don’t make promises that you can’t keep. 

He promised himself he was going to stop hurting Buck. And he fucked up. 

Eddie never wanted to hurt Buck. He didn’t want to add to Buck’s trauma, give him another reason to question himself. When he had ended things with Buck, Eddie had felt genuine determination not to keep confusing him. Clean break, let Buck go. It was the right thing to do. 

And the next day, he went and fucked it up, all over again by acting like some jealous teenager with a jealous crush.  

Despite how it appears on the surface, Eddie does not want to keep hurting Evan Buckley. It’s pretty far down on the list with the last things he wants, truly. 

Eddie isn’t really sure how to do this. Be friends with him. Just friends. Don’t push the boundaries, don’t confuse him. Just let him be. Feel whatever it is he feels from a distance. 

“Diaz.” 

Dumbly, Eddie looks up, sees Hen and Chim smirking at him from the island. “What?” 

“You’ve been staring at the coffee pot for five minutes,” Hen explains. 

“What’s in there?” Chimney asks, smirking. “Answers to the deepest, darkest questions of the universe?” 

Eddie would settle for any answers, at this point. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Want some?”

Chim nods, so Eddie pours some out for him before topping his own off. Hasn’t been sleeping well. He never really did, except when he wasn’t alone. 

Chimney blows on his mug, getting it halfway to his mouth when Hen suddenly grabs his arm. Chim yelps, narrowly avoiding the spill, glaring. Before he can say anything, though, Hen points over the loft railing. 

“Is that Tommy?” Hen asks. 

Eddie and Chimney both turn to where she’s looking over their shoulders, to see human Shrek, yet again. In their house. 

Why is he in their house?

Buck is smiling, talking to Tommy as animated as ever- he’s completely engrossed in their conversation. Doesn’t even notice them staring. Buck was supposed to be working out. He’d been in the gym, Eddie knew. Not supposed to be making a fucking social call. Doesn’t Tommy have a fucking job?

“What is he doing here?”

Oops. That came out- a little more venomous than Eddie intended. 

“Oh, no,” Chimney says, turning to Hen before lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “You don’t- you don’t think that Buck thought we were talking about Tommy, do you?” 

“No, no, we specified. What did you say?” 

“Army medic who’s infatuated with Buck?” 

“No, you didn’t say medic,” Hen hisses. “You just said veteran. Chim.” 

“What are you two talking about?” Eddie asks, irritated.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing!”

Whatever. Eddie doesn’t have the time or the energy to figure out what secret thing they’re probably betting on now. He needs to keep himself in check, not allow himself to stare at Buck, go over there and put himself between Buck and Tommy. He has no reason to be feeling any kind of jealous. Territorial, almost. 

“Oh my God,” Hen says, interrupting his musings. He does look away, though. Now, he just needs to not look back. “I just realized something.”

“What?”

“Tommy,” Hen says. “Tommy is Shrek.” 

Dumb, caught stare. “Buck told you about that?” he blurts out. 

Hen almost laughs, but catches herself. 

Eddie feels himself flush, but he’s not going to apologize. He looks like Shrek. And acts like him, if Chimney and Hen are to be trusted, and trusting them makes him right so that’s what he’s doing. “In my defense, I really didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Hen shrugs. “I mean. You were right.”

“I do not want him back in our lives,” Chimney says. “Like. At all. What are you going to do about that?” 

Hen looks at him, completely in disbelief. “Me? You’re the one who let Buck think we wanted him to get with a racist misogynist.”

“It was your idea to talk to him in the first place-”

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Eddie interrupts.

“Nothing!”

“Nothing.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie puts his mug in the sink before heading toward the stairs. “You two are horrible liars.” 

Eddie knows he can’t just glare at Buck and Tommy from across the room, so he decides to hide out in the bunks, instead. He closes the door behind him (a little harder than necessary) and drags himself off to one of the bunks in the corner, sitting with his back against the wall, stretching his legs in front of him- barely enough time to exhale when the door opens again.

Hen leans in. “Mind if I join you?” 

Eddie smirks. “Like you could afford me.”

She rolls her eyes, but shuts the door behind her, getting settled on the cot next to him before looking at him. Intently. Like, super intentionally, and Eddie suddenly feels like he’s on display. 

“Chimney can’t be the one to talk to you about this because we refuse to get involved with our spouse’s drama,” Hen explains. “I love Karen, but if I tried to involve myself in her drama then I would end up sleeping on the couch every other night.”

“...okay.” 

“And Chimney is with Maddie, and Maddie and Buck are… well. You know.” 

“Yup,” Eddie says. 

It’s not fair to her. The way his body goes on defense, skin prickling the second he feels any sort of pressure. Even about Buck. Especially about Buck. After their conversation this morning, Eddie’s not going to delude himself into thinking this was about anything other than Buck. 

“So I’m talking to you,” Hen says. “Because it looks a little bit like you’re not happy at the prospect of Tommy being with Buck.” 

Yeah, because Tommy seems like he has the depth of a shot glass.

“I think Buck deserves the best,” Eddie says instead. “Not sure Tommy lives up to that standard.” 

Hen looks at him doubtfully. “Right. That’s the reason.” 

Nausea starts to tease him, right at the back of his throat, and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Do you have something to say to me, Hen?” 

She sighs. “Look. Chim and I went to see Buck the other night because—no offense—but the two of you have been acting like someone killed your damn hamster. And Buck needed to talk it out.” 

All of the anger and frustration Eddie’s built up in his shoulders freezes. It feels like his body’s locked up- everything inside of him, just frozen. Numb. Deny, deny, deny. 

“What did he say?” Eddie says carefully. 

“He told us that he’s sleeping with some guy that you both knew in high school,” Hen says. “And that they’re keeping it on the down low because he’s not out, or something like that. And that you didn’t want him sleeping with the guy because you thought he deserved better.” 

Eddie does his best to act like he’s not hearing all of this for the first time. “What about it?” 

“We were drunk,” Hen admits. “Chim and I are lightweights, you know. So the story made a whole lot of sense at the time- and Buck was saying all this crap about how he was never going to find anyone who loved him the same way, so Chim and I decided to meddle a little bit and tell him we’ve been picking up some signals from a certain army veteran.” 

“So, you’re the reason Tommy’s here?” Eddie says sarcastically. “Your fault? That’s a mortal sin. Don’t know if you could ever repent for that.” 

Hen rolls her eyes. “We weren’t talking about Tommy, dumbass.” 

Oh. “Then who-“ 

He cuts himself off when she levels a look at him. The kind that proves she’s a mother, and a good one, at that. Effective look. Pins him down. Can’t lie to her, not with that look. 

“Look,” Hen says gently, while he’s still caught, fly in the spider’s web. “The story made a whole lot of sense to me when I was drunk, but in the light of day? I think I get why he was confused. And you don’t have to confirm this or deny it, but I’m pretty sure you’re the friend. And that’s why Buck’s first thought when Chimney mentioned the army was Tommy. And also why he was in such disbelief when Chimney suggested that the army veteran—Tommy—could ever love him better than the friend. Because the friend is you.” 

The panic starts to ramp up, cutting through the ice, and Eddie’s so damn grateful to be frozen because he hates himself and the way that all of the awful denial would have come pouring out of him. Vehement, wretched denial, so disgusting. It would hurt Hen, he knows it would, but he doesn’t know what else to do. 

He can’t do anything. 

“Chimney hasn’t read into the story,” Hen says, and his relief is disgusting. Eddie is disgusting. “And look. Maybe I’m wrong. But even if I am, that makes a pattern of you disliking two of Buck’s partners in a row. Coincidentally, the only real partners he’s had since you’ve moved here.” 

That’s not fair, Eddie wants to object. Buck never truly dated Ali and Eddie didn’t like her, either. 

“I’m not blind, okay?” Hen says. “And we don’t have to talk about that. Ever, not if you don’t want to, but I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay. You’re allowed.” 

If this is what vulnerability feels like, Eddie doesn’t like it. 

“But you need to pull yourself together before you can give yourself to anyone else,” Hen says. “Eddie, you’re going to be an amazing partner and husband. I can see it in the way you dedicate yourself to your little family, and Buck is part of that.” 

“Buck and I were in high school,” Eddie blurts out, even as some deeply ashamed part of him screams to admit it. Just say it- out loud. “It’s high school, Hen, you think anything matters?”

Buck does. 

Buck does. 

“Eddie, Buck isn’t ever going to leave you,” Hen says, a little bit of a laugh in her voice. “He couldn’t. Ever.” 

He can’t. Eddie’s trapped him. He’s manipulated Buck somehow, locking him in to this obligation to keep an old wound opened, somewhere for Eddie to cower when he inevitably ruins his life. 

I’m going to love you forever. 

It’ll be his fault. Eddie knows that. It’s always Eddie’s fault.

“You need to do this,” Hen says. “For yourself and for your family. Be honest with yourself. Figure out what you want.” 

Buck deserves more. There’s so much more for him to say, and so much more that Buck deserves to hear- things that are real. Things he feels, no matter how fucking hard he tries not to let himself. 

Hen pats his hand, says something to him before leaving him alone in the dorm room, rotting in his own filth. 

It’s not fair. it’s not, because Eddie can’t- he can’t be this for Buck. He can’t let himself be someone his parents hate, can’t take them away from Christopher. He can’t lose his parents, drive a wedge between himself and the rest of their family, force everyone to choose sides all because he’d fallen in love with a man. 

Eddie cannot let himself love Evan Buckley. He cannot lose himself, can’t be the person who Buck deserves.

Because he would. In a fucking heartbeat, he would.

Because Buck is still Buck. Eddie swears, he could read him like a book, so genuine with absolutely everything he does. 

But Hen was right. She was absolutely right- he needed to figure his shit out, stop hurting Buck. He doesn’t deserve that.

Be honest with yourself. 

Who is he kidding? He can’t keep doing this to Buck. He’s been selfish for too long.  

He has to do what’s right. He needs to do the right thing.

Steeling himself, Eddie pulls his phone out, opening Ana Flores’s contact.

“Edmundo?” she says, her voice sweet and soft. “I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”

“I didn’t, either,” he admits. “But, um. I told you that I had a lot to figure out, right?”

“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says. “And I, um. I don’t know that I’ve figured everything out yet, but I do know that I am interested in you and I want to- you know. See where this goes?” 

She’s quiet for a little while. 

“Only if you’re interested,” he adds on. “Obviously, and if you’re unsure, that’s totally fine-” 

“I’m definitely interested,” Ana says. “Edmundo, I’m just not sure that you are.”

He wants to reassure her- do the best that he can to make up some vague excuse. Give her something to grasp onto to explain his disinterested behavior, give her something worth believing in. Preferably truthful. Here he is. Lying through clenched teeth. 

Except it’s not a lie. Christopher loves Ana. He does, and Eddie loves Christopher. He loves him more than anything. If he’s interested in anything, it should be a loving, stable, happy future for his son. 

“I’m interested,” he says, and when he thinks about it like that, it’s not a lie. “I want to make this work, Ana.” 

Is that enough? Can that be enough?

He doesn’t know if he can promise anything more. 

“I do too, Edmundo.”

Oh, thank God. “How do you feel about getting together for brunch tomorrow?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she says. “I know a great place. I’ll send you the details?”

“Sounds perfect.”

That wasn’t a lie, either. She’s perfect. Exactly the kind of person he could take home to his family.

It’s the right thing to do. Eddie needs to do it- the right thing.

He can make this work. He can do this- be easier. Simpler.

He can let all of it go.

Chapter Text

“How’s your steak?” Tommy asks pointedly. 

Oh. Blinking, Buck looks back down, where he’s only eaten half of it. It was so sweet that Tommy came over and made an entire meal- Tommy’s favorite meal, actually. Steak and potatoes. The potatoes are excellent, but the meat is a lot drier than Buck’s used to. Practically well-done, and it’s a little hard to chew. 

Bobby says the only way to eat steak is when it’s bloody rare, so it’s been a while- but Buck isn’t going to complain. 

“It’s really good,” Buck says, smiling. “Yeah, thank you so much. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I’ll figure out a way for you to make it up to me.”

The steak gets a tiny bit more difficult to swallow. 

Look. Buck is trying. He’s trying to listen to his friends, be good. Try his best. 

Hen and Karen have one of the strongest relationships Buck’s ever seen. 

When he thinks about it, his models for what a happy, healthy relationship looked like were lacking. His parents were so wrapped up in their grief that they had forgotten how to love, and then Maddie had Doug- Doug, who was now in prison for domestic abuse. 

When they moved to Los Angeles, and Maddie met Chimney, it was a bit of a learning curve for her. Buck watched as she learned how to trust a man again, and it was as beautiful to see as it was frustrating- that she was put in that position in the first place. 

Still, though. Buck’s experience with healthy relationships was limited, to say the least. Chimney and Hen both had more experience with that than Buck did, so he’s supposed to trust them. If they say this thing with Tommy is worth a shot, then he’s going to do his best.

It’s not even bad. Buck has to be honest with himself. There’s nothing wrong with it- Tommy’s fun. He’s hot, and he’s patient. He doesn’t make Buck feel shitty when he’s rambling- they just brush it off and move on. 

Things with Tommy are easy. It feels oddly casual, stakes so low that Buck can barely bother to care. 

When Tommy kissed him goodnight, Buck didn’t actually want him to stay. He felt like he should ask, but it’s not like he wanted to ask. 

But going with what he’s wanted has historically led him down the wrong path. He’s trying to be better this time around. 

…he still didn’t ask Tommy to spend the night. 

Next time. It’s fine. He’s fine. 

He’s so normal and so incredibly fine with all of this, including Eddie. And Ana Flores.

Look. For all intents and purposes, she seems like a great person. She’s sweet, incredible with children, smart and drop-dead gorgeous. Ana has been nothing but good to Eddie, so Buck really has no reason to dislike her- and he doesn’t . Dislike her, that is. It’s kind of like his relationship with Tommy- there’s nothing wrong with it, but is it real?

It’s not fair for him to compare his current relationship to his high school sweetheart, and he knows that. Teenagers have intense, messy feelings, which makes everything feel like so much more . He’s older, now. And so is Tommy. 

Maybe that’s what it’s supposed to be like, then. Buck isn’t supposed to be stressing out over his relationship with Tommy. It’s easy, and he’s not supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if something in the gift feels off. So he doesn’t care that it doesn’t feel real- that he feels like he’s moving underwater. He doesn’t care that it feels like so much less than he’s been feeling with Eddie. 

He doesn’t even care that it’s been a half hour since Eddie’s shift was supposed to start, and he’s still not here. Thirty two minutes, actually, in case anyone else is wondering. He’s not here and nobody else seems to notice. And if they do notice, they don’t care. 

Granted, it’s still early and they’re all still waking up. Maybe Eddie just overslept, because he’s in a real relationship now, too. He’s putting his energy into the things that matter. That’s not Buck, not anymore. 

When Buck hears Eddie’s truck, he just about manages not to breathe out a sigh of relief. 

He can’t stop himself from heading down the loft to meet him, though.  

“Hey,” Buck greets him, going for nonchalant and definitely failing. “You’re kinda late, buddy.” 

Buck might as well claw his eyes out. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, dropping his duffle bag. “Christopher had a doctor’s appointment.”

Oh. Duh. Christopher’s doctor’s appointments are literally in Buck’s calendar. 

“Thought you might have been seeing Ana again.”

Eddie eyes him. “She’s working today.”

“Oh.”

Yeah. Oh. Buck has nothing better to say- he doesn't really have an excuse for being intrusive about Eddie's personal life, but sue him. He's curious. 

“Buck, Eddie.”

Jerkily, Buck turns around, seeing Cap looming over them up on the loft. Perfect timing, actually, because Buck had no follow up and now he has enough time to recover and continue to act 100%, completely normal. 

“Just wondering if you all have plans tomorrow evening,” Bobby says. “I’m planning a little get-together.”

He starts to turn to look at Eddie, but he stops himself, gritting his teeth. Why would he look at him? Eddie doesn’t run his fucking schedule. Buck's allowed to do things without Eddie. 

“Yeah, I can go,” Buck says, starting back up the loft, shouting. “Do I need to bring anything?”

Bobby waits until he’s made it all the way up to continue the conversation, because he's old and therefore nearly deaf.

“We’re going out, actually,” Bobby explains. “I wanted to take Athena for a night out, and she insisted we bring along some friends.”

“Hey, Bobby, is this the kind of thing we can invite family to?” Eddie asks, skipping the last few steps on the staircase to meet them in the kitchen, leaning over the island. 

“Christopher is an honorary part of the 118,” Buck cuts in. “He’s always invited.” 

Eddie snorts. “Thanks for that, but, um. I was thinking about inviting Ana.” 

Oh. Well. They’d been on three dates, but apparently Ana had passed all the tests to be introduced to Eddie’s family. 

Buck was going to be completely normal about this. 

“That would be nice,” Bobby agrees. 

“Uh, isn’t this supposed to be, like, a 118 thing?” Buck asks, deliberately avoiding Eddie’s gaze. It doesn’t protect him from the way Eddie scoffs in the corner. 

“You’re bringing your boyfriend,” Eddie says pointedly. 

Actually, Buck wasn’t planning on bringing Tommy, but in for a penny he supposes. 

“Tommy worked here way before either of us did,” Buck snaps. 

“Come on. It’s family, everyone is welcome,” Bobby says pointedly. “We are going out to a bar, though. It’s a nice bar, but still. I don’t know if bringing Christopher is recommended.”

And there goes the one speck of light Buck was looking forward to in this whole damn mess. Can he get away with not going? Probably. He doesn’t want to go and Tommy doesn’t really like big group events, either. 

But he shouldn’t miss out on spending time with the rest of the 118 just because of this. Whatever this is. 

“We’ll be there,” Buck says, pulling his phone out. “Looking forward to it.”

~~~

It's actually a nice place to go out for drinks. Buck has seen it advertised before as more of a romantic place to go- still a bar, but a classier joint. It just so happens that the one night they choose to go out, the bar is throwing a huge event with flashing lights discounted drinks and really, really obnoxious music. It's drawing in the younger party crowd, some college students, and Buck is suffocating within five minutes. 

He does his best- smiles, drinks, talks and laughs. They're here to have fun and he's going to have fun. 

It gets easier with some alcohol in him, so they all share some stories and Buck laughs some more. Tommy doesn't talk much, but Buck is pretty sure he's listening, which is more than he could say for Eddie.

In Eddie's defense, Buck knows that this type of bar is not at all his scene. 

Eddie doesn’t even like going out, but Buck has never seen him drink scotch in his damn life. The few times they do go out to bars, Eddie’s drinking shit whiskey and beer. But Ana has her white wine and Eddie’s nursing the same damn scotch he’s been holding all night, circling the rim with one hand and the other on Ana’s knee. Every now and then, she turns toward him to whisper something and he smiles, just a little, shaking his head. 

Her legs are crossed neatly, and his hand rests perfectly still on her knee, polite as ever. Full attention on her. Engages in conversation so politely, but barely looks in Buck’s direction. Kind of like he’s intentionally ignoring him and Tommy. 

It pisses him off, so Buck turns around, shifts so he’s sitting on Tommy’s thigh. 

“You look so good tonight, baby,” Buck murmurs. “Kiss me?”

Tommy is looking at him fondly, getting his hands under Buck’s knee to tug him up, get him on Tommy’s lap. Tommy leans in, hand not-so-subtly grabbing greedy handfuls of Buck’s ass. He gasps gently, almost dropping the beer. Tommy takes it from him before nipping at Buck’s ear, voice just barely audible over the general din. “Should have known you’d be greedy. We’re in public, boy.”

“Don’t you want to show off what’s yours?” Buck whispers, teeth tugging gently at Tommy’s ear. “Show off a little? That guy at the bar was a little handsy.” 

Tommy groans, just a little bit. “You let him touch you, boy?”

“No,” Buck breathes out. “Promise. I was good.” 

He’s gonna be good for Tommy, right where Eddie can see him. 

Someone groans in complaint from over his shoulder, and it isn’t Eddie. He doesn’t know who it is, but it’s not Eddie. 

“Want to head out?” Tommy murmurs. “I think you need to be taken down a notch.” 

Buck moans. He doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. 

“Buck!” That’s Chimney. “In public? Seriously? Can you keep it in your pants?” 

Not yet. 

Not yet. 

Buck nuzzles into Tommy’s shoulder, eyes closed, tries not to think too hard when he comes back up, kissing Tommy, groaning into his mouth. 

"So good, baby."

The legs of the chair screech when Eddie shoves it back, standing up. 

Ana looks up at him worriedly, and Buck can’t blame her. It was abrupt enough to even distract Tommy. “Are you okay, Edmundo?”

“Yes,” he says. Smiles at her. “Bathroom.” 

“Don’t fall in,” Buck says, still breathless. 

Buck doesn’t really know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t know what he wants, and he’s unprepared- the way Eddie’s face completely drops. Expressionless, by the time he’s made eye contact with him. 

“That's of your concern,” Eddie says. It’s not cold, not angry. Completely indifferent, and it knock Buck off balance. He doesn’t even have enough time to recover before Eddie’s already gone. 

Awkwardly, Buck turns back to Tommy, treis to find comfort in his touch. Tommy’s hesitant, but he wraps his arms back around Buck, tugs him closer, firm fingers. 

“Take me home?” Buck asks. 

Tommy’s more than happy to oblige. 

~~~~

Buck’s feeling really itchy by the time they make it back to his loft. Tommy’s house was closer, but Buck isn’t going to complain. He likes his loft. Would’ve been nice to get out of it, though- just another reminder that home isn’t home. Not anymore. 

He’s a dramatic piece of shit, but he doesn’t care, kissing Tommy’s neck, desperate. 

Tommy shoves him back against the door, nipping at his lips. Tommy growls before dragging him up the stairs, shoving him down onto the bed. 

“You like it rough, don’t you?” Tommy asks.

Yes. Yes, he does- needs Tommy to stop talking, stop asking him questions, let him feel something other than the burning failure of rejection that tears him to pieces every time Eddie looks at him like-

“Ah!” Buck gasps, feeling Tommy start to press into him, bear down. “T-Tommy, fuck .”

He’s not stretched enough, he’s not, and it fucking burns. 

“Can’t believe you’re so tight, the way you parade your slutty ass around,” Tommy grunts into his ear. “Think you would be all sloppy and used up by now.” 

Shaking his head rapidly, Buck sucks in as much air as possible, tries to breathe through the pain. Feels like he’s getting split open. Torn apart, he’s going to tear, he’s so fucking sure of it and it’s terrifying and still somehow less scary than before. 

Pain. It hurts, and Buck has to remember how to breathe, the pain occupying every space in his mind. It’s perfect. Buck can’t think about anything else, just trying to push through the pain.

Tommy groans somewhere over his shoulder, like it’s making him even hotter, and Buck- he kind of hates it? He thinks? He doesn’t fucking know. It’s hard to think when he can’t even breathe, and Tommy starts to pull out, and Buck muffles his groan with the pillow. 

“So tight,” Tommy sighs. “Hot and tight little hole, boy. You can lay there and take it. Don’t you want to be good, Evan ?”

Yes. Yes, he wants to be good. If Tommy wants him to take it, then he should be able to take it- doesn’t matter that Eddie’d never ask him for this, doesn’t matter because Eddie doesn’t matter. Can’t think about Eddie when another man-

“Ah,” Tommy sighs, and Buck lets himself melt into the way Tommy is enjoying himself, wraps himself up in the knowledge that he’s being good, so very good. Make Tommy feel good. 

The pain recedes. It’s not like it’s the first time Buck’s been stretched open with a cock, and his body finally forgives the intrusion, gives way to the beautiful pleasure of being filled and fucked and felt. He whines gently around the pillow, fucks himself back onto Tommy, does his best to be good, rewarded when Tommy gets deep enough to hit Buck’s sweet spot, and he moans. 

“Shut up,” Tommy mutters, and Buck nods rapidly, shoving his face back into the pillow, muffles himself. He’s being good. So good, and he’s fuzzy with it. 

Tommy holds him still as he comes, bruising grip, not allowing Buck to get any more friction, any more pleasure. He sobs, realizing Tommy isn’t going to get him off, leave him.

But that’s okay. 

He doesn’t need to get off, he was good- 

He’s good. Tommy is happy with him.

Sniffling, Buck rolls into his arms as soon as Tommy’s pulled out, shoving his face into his chest. He hopes Tommy isn’t upset with him for getting his tears and snot on his face.  

“Alright, kid,” Tommy mutters. “You alright?”

Not really. But Buck thinks this might be the closest he’ll get. “Mhm.”

“Okay, then.”

Tommy pulls away from him, dragging all of the warmth away with him, and Buck sits up abruptly. 

Tommy- Buck thinks he’s just going to the bathroom, but he starts pulling his clothes on, and he feels panic start coursing through his chest.

“Wait, hey, are you leaving?” Buck asks, trying not to be alarmed. “Where are you going?”

“Look, I don’t know how to mince words so I’m just going to say this to you,” Tommy says. “I think you’re adorable. I’m absolutely enthralled with you, to a point that I really didn’t expect from myself.”

Dumbly, Buck looks at him. “Tommy-”

“I want you to be mine so badly,” Tommy says, cutting him off. “I can’t even express to you how much I like you, Evan.”

“Then what’s the problem?” he snaps. 

“You’re not mine,” Tommy says, finally looking at him. “You’re Eddie’s.” 

The entire world freezes. Every functioning thought Buck has suddenly shorts out. He sputters, wanting to deny it vehemently, but Tommy is looking at him with that dark, intimidating stare.

Can’t be good for Eddie. Gotta be good, can’t do it for Eddie. He can be good for Tommy. 

Tommy takes Buck’s nonresponse in stride, scoffing before turning to leave. Buck springs into action, jumping out of bed, too panicked to remember to put some clothes on. 

“Hey, no,” Buck says, following him down the stairs, almost desperate. “Nothing is going on with Eddie, okay? He doesn’t want me, I swear.” 

“Evan, it doesn’t matter,” Tommy says, pulling his jacket on. “Look, maybe you’re right. Maybe Eddie doesn’t want you, especially with the way you were dry humping me tonight. But if he wanted you, you’d be his in a heartbeat. You’re not mine. You’re his .” 

“Tommy.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tommy says, tight smile. “I had fun, okay? You’re- you’re good, and you know it, but I think we should just leave it at that, alright? I don’t think you’re capable of giving anything more, not while he’s around.” 

Tommy pulls his keys out of his pocket, tight little smile. 

“You should take a shower,” Tommy says. “You’re kind of a mess. See you around, Buck.”

He slams the door behind him. Hard, loud enough for it to resonate through Buck’s whole body.

Naked, shivering body, still covered in sweat and come and fear. 

You’re kind of a mess.

His legs- Buck doesn’t trust them, and his hand flies out, finding the wall. Just about managing to drag himself back into the bathroom, he cringes, splashes some water onto his face. 

The lights are off, but there’s enough from the living area that he can just about make out the desperation on his face. 

I don’t think you’re capable of giving anything more. 

Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, Buck has no idea what the hell he’s become. 

It’s not like he can’t handle a little humiliation. In the right circumstances, he thrives on it. Knowing that whoever he’s sleeping with sees him, knows that he’s a needy slut, and still wants him anyway.

But Tommy doesn’t want him. That whole time, he knew that he was going to leave him, and he was cruel and rough and- and something about it wasn’t right. 

Tommy- Tommy didn’t think Buck could love him. He couldn’t be good for Tommy because he was too busy thinking about Eddie. 

Fucking Eddie. 

He can’t maintain a loving, stable relationship and it’s all Eddie’s fault. 

Tommy fucked him and left him with blue balls, and it’s all Eddie’s fucking fault. 

He’s not hard anymore, just frustrated and confused, and he steels himself. Buck doesn’t need anyone. He doesn’t. He was alone for years. He knows how to take care of himself. 

Taking his lotion out, he grasps the base of his cock, closing his eyes. He tries to think good thoughts. Put everything else out of his head, lose himself in the pleasure-

So good, Buck.  

Buck’s always liked hands. He likes feeling someone else’s hands on him, when they’re pinning him down- he likes the resistance, how he can pull away, pretend like he can’t get out from under it. Most of his partners weren’t as big or strong as he was- it’s not their fault, and fantasies take some work. Buck knows how to pretend- lie, lie, lie. 

He remembers gentle hands, fingers following gentle kisses running along his jaw. Sweet words of praise, telling Buck how good he is, how well he’s doing, how good he makes his partner feel, because he is. Buck is good, he fucking swears it. He swears he can be good, that he can take care of himself- he doesn’t need anyone else, much less Eddie. Eddie, who doesn’t love him- can’t love him, can’t let him love or be loved by anyone else. 

Something like a sob threatens to tear out of his chest, and Buck squeezes his eyes shut, playing with his head. He's still wet, so fucking pathetic, and he can't. He can't do it alone, can't do this by himself- he's always been good for sex. Always, always always been a good partner, always made sure to stay pretty and be giving toward his partner, not to think about himself. Make them feel good, because that's what he's good for.

Maybe he's not, though, he thinks hysterically. Maybe he's never been good for them- maybe it's always been about someone else, haunting the fucking narrative, looming over his shoulder. The one that got away, except he was the one who he never truly had in the first place. 

Maybe it's always been for Eddie.

Eddie, who doesn't love him.

When he comes, it feels like every last bit of energy comes out with it, and something starts crumbling. Buck’s eyes fly open, grasping onto the edges of the toilet, but he can’t. He’s- maybe he’s going to throw up. 

His knees hit the floor, hard, the plush rug not doing anything to stop pain shooting up his legs.

Whimpering, Buck tries to keep himself steady, but he can’t. He’s crying, and his vision is blacking out and the room is spinning. 

This is pathetic. He can’t even hold himself up- the floor of his bathroom is cold, so cold, and he’s shivering. 

This is it, he thinks hysterically. 

Unlovable.

Chapter Text

Frankly, Eddie had been proud of himself for the way he was handling this whole bar thing. 

He waited outside for Ana and walked in with her, hand in hand, determined to be the best partner for her. Didn’t leave her side. They talked and laughed and Eddie listened, drinking the weirdly sweet wine Ana had ordered for them. Ana leaned back to whisper to him, and he leaned down when she made a silly joke about drunk guys at bars acting like children, and Eddie managed to laugh. It was a perfectly innocent joke, something he’s heard fifty times. Easy, simple humor, something he could laugh at and pretend not to notice the way Buck was rolling his eyes a few seats down.

Buck has been weird about this. Eddie knows that it’s probably not easy. As much as he dislikes Tommy (the guy gives him a bad feeling. He can’t name it, but that goes for most of his feelings these days) Eddie was relieved to see that Buck had found someone else. There was someone to love him in his absence, even if Tommy didn’t love him enough. Nobody ever would. Not even Eddie.

But maybe Tommy would try. Maybe he could try, and that would be more than Eddie had ever given him. 

And then Buck practically crawled into Tommy’s lap, and Eddie had to sit there, act completely normal about it. 

Even at their prime, Eddie can’t remember Buck being that handsy. They’re both huge physical touch people. Eddie hadn’t known you could want someone so badly until Evan Buckley was back in his arms. 

At the bar, though, Eddie was doing his best to act normally. He knows he’s supposed to be attentive to his partner, remain a steady, strong, presence. Keep her feeling safe. He couldn’t be wasting his energy on things that didn’t matter. And maybe Buck just didn’t want Eddie like that- Eddie knew Buck has huge, big feelings, and that he needs somewhere to put them. So maybe their relationship was just different. Maybe he just wanted Tommy more, and that had to be okay. It meant that Eddie could do it, too. 

But then he heard Buck- heard him moan, watched him give himself over to this man. Listened to him plead, and Eddie almost lost his fucking mind. 

It was pathetic. 

Buck could beg better than that. He could get much more desperate, could take a lot more than Tommy was giving him. It was a performance. Maybe to prove it to Eddie, or for Buck to prove it to himself, Eddie doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. 

It was fake . 

And Eddie- 

He lost his fucking mind, anyway. Ran away to the bathroom like he was fifteen again. 

It was stupid. Eddie was stupid.

He wasn’t going to apologize to Evan, though. Or Tommy, for that matter, so maybe it’s a good thing that they’ve gone by the time Eddie gets back. 

“It’s getting late,” Ana whispers. “Want to head out?”

Eddie nods, slamming the rest of his drink before starting to bid his goodbyes, empty. He’s halfway through gearing himself up to say a proper goodbye to Ana when she takes his hand, smiling. 

“Would you like to spend the night?” Ana asks. “I don’t have to be at school until noon, tomorrow.”

Thing is, Eddie isn’t even certain that he doesn't want to. He knows he should, and that it was the natural next step in any serious relationship. And that, he knows. Eddie knows that the right thing for Christopher is for Eddie to be in a stable, steady, serious relationship, with a pretty girl who was good with kids, sweet and low maintenance family who went home every summer and Christmas. 

Ana checked all of the boxes. Every single one of them, and she’s gorgeous. Eddie might not understand all of the specifics about attractiveness and being attracted to someone, but he does know that objectively, Ana is beautiful. She’s a good person, and she deserves the best. 

Eddie’s played a part his whole damn life. He’s always been able to be better, do more than what he was on the inside. He could be the good dad and the good husband, and he could find a way to be happy with that. 

“Sure,” he says, smiling, running his hand along her curls, so long and healthy. “I’ll meet you there?”

She exhales, and Eddie almost drowns in her relief. 

“See you at home,” she says sweetly. 

Eddie hates himself. He hates performing, hates going through the motions. Hates that this all feels like he’s just getting through it. Dragging himself through, so preoccupied with doing the right thing, saying the right thing, hiding. 

Can’t think about how he shouldn’t be treating her like this. Being with her shouldn’t be like this. Something to ‘get through.’

Sleeping next to Ana was surprisingly difficult.

She was sweet, and it was nice to have the warmth of someone else in bed with him again. He kisses her on the shoulder and thanks her for being good to him, and she falls asleep, exhausted, and Eddie lays there. In someone’s else’s bedroom, wishing he was back home with his son. 

Eddie’s an idiot. Ana is- she’s so beautiful, and she’s so smart and kind. Eddie knows he could do a lot worse and she could do a whole lot better, and for some reason, she’s decided to take a chance on him. And he’s grateful. Genuinely, he is, and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel it. 

Eddie’s trying. Hand to fucking God, he’s trying. 

Just not hard enough, it appears. 

Eddie gets out of bed at seven, making her some breakfast. She meets him in the kitchen with a soft, sleepy smile, and he thinks about how beautiful she is and wonders why he can’t feel it. 

“I’m really sorry,” Eddie says apologetically as they clear their plates. “I got called in early today.” 

She doesn’t even look hurt when she smiles. “No problem, Edmundo. I had a great time last night.” 

“Me, too.” 

He’s glad he’d never shared his shift schedule with her. Makes being a piece of shit a whole lot easier.

~~~

Buck’s never late. Not without warning. He always tells Eddie if he’s missing work or if he’s running late, to ask Eddie to let Bobby know he’d be there. 

When he finally pulls in, Eddie frowns. Buck’s eyes are wide, almost hypervigilant. Where he’d usually be throwing around easy greetings, he barely talks to anyone as he comes in, going directly to the stairs of the loft. Fuck. 

Turning around, Eddie hastily heads to the fridge. Hen is sitting at the counter and she looks at him, judgy brow raised behind her glasses. “Where’s the fire?”

“You know, considering you believe in curses and jinxes and crap, I’d think you’d know better than to say that,” Eddie snarks. “Want coffee?”

“That’d be great,” she sighs. “Filling out some paperwork for Denny- I swear, they overcomplicate this.”

Eddie shudders in empathy. Won’t turn around, even when he hears Buck stomping toward them. 

Facing the coffee maker, Eddie can just make him out through the corner of his eye, but he beelines to Hen. 

“Hey,” Buck mumbles, not making eye contact. “Could you help me with something?” 

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’m busy right now,” Hen says, sympathetically. “But Eddie just finished his round- Eddie, can you help Buck?”

Fuck. Closing the fridge, he turns around, trying not to act like he was eavesdropping. “What?”

Buck rolls his eyes, heading off toward the stairs. “Nevermind.”

Awkwardly, Eddie raises his brow at Hen, who shakes her head with a fond smirk. “You go talk to him or I will.”

Abandoning the coffee, Eddie heads down the stairs, following Buck towards the lockers. 

The door closes behind him, and Eddie wonders (not for the first time) why the hell they decided to make their locker room glass . 

“Stop following me,” Buck says, not even looking up. 

“I’m not following you,” Eddie says tartly. “You want to talk to me about what’s going on?”
“ Nothing’s going on.”

Right. And Eddie is St. fucking Patrick. 

“...okay,” Eddie says. “Do you want to talk to me about-”

“You know what? No,” Buck snaps, slamming his locker shut before turning to Eddie, crossing his arms. He’s pouting. Angry, but Eddie can’t quite figure out why. “No. I don’t want to talk to you about it.”

Eddie tries not to react to the blatant provocation. Can’t reflect Buck’s anxiety back at him, because that would only make the situation worse. “That’s fine, Buck, but you do need to talk to someone.” 

Anyone. Let out all of his big feelings, all of his energy, find a way to let himself loose before he explodes, hurts himself.

Buck scoffs. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“What happened?” Eddie presses. “Did something happen with Tommy? You guys seemed okay at the bar.”

It takes every ounce of Eddie’s self control to keep his cadence and tone steady, prove he doesn’t mean anything by it. 

Buck doesn’t answer for far too long, and Eddie tries not to push him. 

“Fine,” Buck says. “I need help. And- and I need you not to ask any questions.”

“Of course,” Eddie says. “Anything. What’s wrong?” 

“Come on.”

Dumbly, Eddie follows Buck into the showers, hands shaking as he locks the door behind him. 

“Evan?” Eddie asks, panicking. “Evan, what-”

When Buck takes his shirt off, Eddie’s eyes widen, drawn immediately down to the angry purple welts striped across his shoulders-

“Evan,” Eddie says incredulously. “What the fuck ?”

“That’s a question.”
“Did Tommy fucking do this to you?” Eddie asks, fingers trailing as gently as possible, away from where some of Buck’s skin is still split open, and Eddie is going to kill someone. “What is this? A whip? You don’t like whips.”

His voice trembles. “A switch.”

Eddie might as well tear his own damn heart out. 

“Baby.” 

They’re all there. Beautiful words on the tip of his damn tongue, so many things he wants to say to explain to him how beautiful he is, how good. How he deserves the fucking world, doesn’t deserve to be under the thumb of someone who doesn’t fucking deserve him.

“No,” Evan says, stepping away. “No. No sweetness, no questions. I just- I need you to clean me up, I can’t reach.” 

“Buck, if Tommy did this to you-”

“I don’t think Tommy and I are together anymore,” Buck announces. 

Idiot. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks stupidly. “What- you don’t think? What does that mean?”

“Tommy didn’t do this,” Buck continues. “After we- after he left, then I went to a club. Was just a hookup, random guy I’m not going to see him again.”

“Did you ask him for this?”

Buck swallows, can’t hold eye contact. “It was consensual.” 

“Evan,” Eddie says. “Did you ask him to whip you?”

Because Eddie knows what that means. He knows. 

“No,” Buck says. “I just asked him to take me out of my head. Hurt me a little. Told him he could do whatever he wanted.” 

“What the hell , Evan?” 

“No,” he snaps, jerking his shoulder out from under Eddie’s hands. “No. You don’t get to be a dick about this. I asked you because you owe me and you don’t get to ask me any questions.” 

Eddie swallows heavily, because he can’t really argue with that. The owing things. The questions, though. 

“I’m not going to question you but you have to know there are better options for coping with things than letting someone beat you bloody, Buck.” 

“Eddie-“

”You know how dangerous this is, don’t you?” Eddie insists. “Evan, why didn’t you-“

“This is your fault,” Buck snaps. “You showed up here. I had gotten over you, you know. I was fine. I had gotten over you, and then you walked right back into my life and blew it up all over again.”

Buck’s words feel a little like they’re scraping out his insides- gutting his stomach. 

“Evan-”

“I didn’t even want this!” Buck says, and Eddie might throw up. Buck keeps talking, but he can’t- he doesn’t hear anything else. 

Eddie’s always wanted to kill anyone who hurt Buck- he doesn’t know what to do when that person is him, too. 

“I shouldn’t have let you, but I did anyway. Because I’m-”

“Wait, wait,” Eddie interrupts. “You didn’t want this?”

Rolling his eyes, Buck huffs, ready to brush it off the way he’s dismissed so many of his other pains. “You know what I mean.”

It sets every nerve ending in Eddie’s body off. He takes a step back, removes himself from Buck’s personal space, almost nauseated at the idea of touching him when he didn’t want it. No accidents. 

“No, no,” Eddie says, his hands up. “Evan, wait. This is important.”

Listen to me, Eddie wants to beg.

Please. Listen to me. 

Evan looks at Eddie, sad, wet eyes, so tense- and Eddie wants to lay him down, worship him, show him how he’s meant to be loved. 

But he can’t. Not if Evan doesn’t want it- he can’t.

“Did I do anything to you that you didn’t want?” Eddie asks again, trying not to let his voice shake. “Have I made you uncomfortable or violated your trust in any way? Because if I did, then it’s okay. I promise, I’m not angry, but I need to know.” 

The seriousness of the question washes over him. Suddenly, every memory that they’d had, everything Eddie’s been holding so damn close to his chest is marred- 

Evan hasn’t moved, still can't really breathe. 

How could he not have known ? 

“Evan,” Eddie says desperately. “Evan, listen to me, okay? I’m not angry with you.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m-”

“I’m not thinking anything,” Eddie says. “I’m asking a question.” 

Please tell me the truth. Please, please tell me that I'm misunderstanding, please tell me that all of that was real. 

The only real thing Eddie's ever chosen in his damn life. 

Please.

“No. No, Eddie, no. I didn’t mean it like that,” Evan says. “I never felt violated, or uncomfortable. I wanted to do everything that we did.” 

Eddie nods jerkily. “Okay. Okay.” 

He doesn’t trust himself right now. Not just to- not just like that, but not to hurt Evan, not to make everything worse. 

Eddie’s got a hand on the door when Buck’s wraps around his arm. 

“Eds, wait.” 

Can’t move. Can’t breathe. 

“Eddie, please .”

And he’s never been able to turn away from him- not when he sounds like that. 

It’s real. Something real, not like how he was with fucking Tommy . 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Evan says, guilt permeated in his words. “I’ve never even- Eddie, you have never assaulted me. I’ve never once felt violated, okay? Not with you.”

And Eddie can’t believe it. Can’t believe he’s making this about himself, because that’s not what this is about. Evan shouldn’t have to make Eddie feel better about this, especially not if its his fault. 

Evan takes his hands, gently tugging at them until he’s resting his fingers on the side of Evan’s neck, thumb in the dip of his collarbone. 

Eddie- Eddie looks down, follows his hands to look at Buck’s eyes, still terrified of what he’d find. 

“I promise,” Buck says eagerly. “I’m- I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie just keeps nodding, hand still on Buck’s soft, stupid face. “Okay. Okay. Um, your back, I need to- sit down.” 

Buck huffs out a laugh, but he does sit down, allowing Eddie to clean him up. Once the blood is gone and everything is clean, Eddie has to admit it’s not as bad as he initially thought, but he still hates it. 

“I don’t want you to keep going to random people when you’re hurting,” Eddie murmurs. “You could’ve- I don’t know. Called me.”

“Eddie, you have a girlfriend.”

Oh. Holy shit. 

Oh, fuck . 

“I know,” Eddie says, like he didn’t just fucking forget about his partner. “But we still could have talked. I could have- I could have done something .”

Buck looks up at Eddie, eyes softer with something too similar to pity for someone who just fucking forgot about his girlfriend. 

“You can’t give me what I need anymore,” Buck says. “You don’t get to make me feel shitty for getting it somewhere else.”

Of course. Of course. 

Look. It’s not like Eddie forgot about Ana, exactly, it’s just- there were more pressing things on his mind. Eddie saw Evan - his best friend, his work partner - hurt, and that was all he could think about. It’s not like she didn’t matter, she just- she mattered less . 

The tones go off a few seconds after Eddie realizes he might need to get his shit together. 

~~~

Buck doesn’t really know how he’s feeling. 

When he woke up, he was okay, but he was angry by the time he got to the house. His back was still stinging and he needed help cleaning it up, but he couldn’t ask Chimney because then he’d tattle to Maddie and she wouldn’t leave him alone.

He asked Hen, but she was busy, and then sent him straight into the lion’s den with Eddie. And frankly, Buck was all set to ignore him. Ignore him the way that Eddie’d been ignoring him in the bar, because Buck was furious with him for reasons that he couldn’t even figure. 

And then-

Then Buck doesn’t even know what happened. He was just talking, saying things- trying to figure out how to find the words to explain to Eddie how badly this was affecting him, make him realize. 

Buck wasn’t trying to hurt him, not exactly. 

But then he hurt him, anyway. 

So, there’s some guilt. Some pain, some anger. A little bit of nausea. Buck has no fucking idea, but he doesn’t care- it’s a call with a kid, and Buck can’t let all of this affect him. 

Bobby sends them up onto the balcony to help out, get the kid’s mom back to safety, adding on some extra struggles when Mom explains that the kid has an autoimmune disease. 

Eddie’s cool, calm. Collected, as always, and Buck tries to be jealous but he just isn’t. Eddie helps her in, and Buck searches his face, but he’s managed to turn himself off completely. Nothing. Absolutely fine. 

“You’re going to have to get checked out in the ER,” Eddie says, and Mom starts shaking her head rapidly. 

“Charlie can’t go outside,” she insists. 

“We’ll take care of him, I promise,” Buck says. “He won’t need to leave the house, but we need to get you checked out.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Eddie says, and Buck isn’t even surprised. “We’ll be just fine, won’t we, Charlie?”

The kid’s eyes are sunken in, deep, dark circles, but he doesn’t even seem scared. 

“Hey, Bobby,” Eddie calls out. “Depending on how long this takes, I might need someone to stay with Christopher or relieve me here.”

“I got him,” Buck interrupts. 

Eddie looks at him, almost wondrous. It’s not surprise, which would have offended Buck a little. Just a little awed, and it makes Buck nervous. 

“Chris shouldn’t have to suffer because we have our heads in our asses,” Buck says, trying to play it off. “I’ll get him. We’ll be fine.”

Bobby is satisfied with that, and he heads off to start clearing the scene, and Buck has to gather up all of his gear. Eddie’s got Charlie settled, and he comes back to Buck right before he can escape. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks softly, and Buck somehow manages to go through all five stages of grief and all six segments of the feelings wheel at the same fucking time. 

Maybe he should be mad. Maybe he should be more guilty, maybe he should have run away.

But he’s tired. 

He’s so damn tired of losing people.  

“I’m good,” Buck says, smiling. “I’ll take care of Christopher. See you when you get home.” 

~~~

It took longer than Eddie thought for Sheila to get home, but Eddie didn’t mind. Charlie was a good kid. Easygoing, despite his chronic illness. He makes Charlie some mac and cheese, plays a few games of uno, helps with his homework. When Buck picks Christopher up, he facetimes Eddie to let the two boys talk. Bond. Buck gives him the plans for the night and then bids them goodbye, Buck promising that they’re about to get Christopher’s homework done, and Eddie doesn’t doubt him for a second. Eddie knew what it was like to have a child with special needs, and he wanted to be as helpful as possible. It’s not easy to do on your own, and Eddie knew that. 

Buck did, too. 

The ickiness of their early conversation hadn’t quite washed off him, but it had been a long fucking day and Eddie doesn't have it in him to do any more soul searching. He just wanted to go home, see his son, make sure he and Buck were okay. 

He'd deal with everything else later. 

When Eddie pulls into his driveway, he can see the glow of the living room lamp through the window, but Christopher’s bedroom lights are off. It’s nearly midnight, and Eddie sighs, knowing Buck had put him to bed. 

Closing the door as quietly as he can behind him, Eddie locks it before shutting down the hallway light, tossing his keys and his bag before heading toward the living room. 

Buck was snoring lightly, halfway propped up in the armchair, curled over on himself. It was going to be hell on his back, and the way his leg is folded underneath him doesn’t bode well either. 

Boundaries. 

Carefully, Eddie manages to get Buck’s body in the right position to heave him up over his shoulder. Buck groans, but Eddie hushes him, quickly heading down the hall into his bedroom- he’s sore, and Buck is heavy, but Eddie can just about lay him down soft enough to let him sleep.

Peace, and rest- he deserves it all. 

Eddie pulls up the blankets, making sure that he’ll be warm enough- steps back, watches him sleep like a freak. 

“Goodnight,” Eddie whispers, turning around to take a shower in Chris’s bathroom, getting himself settled on the couch. 

“Night,” Buck huffs. Still asleep. 

Closing the door behind him, Eddie breathes out. 

Goodnight. 

Chapter Text

“So.”

Dumbly, Eddie looks over the table. Shannon is watching nervously. 

“So?” he asks. 

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

He tries not to scoff. Like he doesn’t know. He’s spent this whole day trying to ignore it. Trying to keep himself sane, keep all of his food down. He’s only had a few bites of the fancy dinner Shannon tried to make him.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

She picks at her food, barely having eaten more than Eddie. 

“I’m scared,” she confesses. 

It’s probably a sign of Eddie’s immaturity- the way he prickles at that. He’s her sole provider. The father of her kid. He’s about to ship off to an active war zone. She’s allowed to be scared. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Eddie says. “And you’ll get DIC if anything happens. It’ll be okay.” 

She scoffs. “I’m not worried about the money, Eddie.” 

It’s not that she should be, exactly. But that’s why he’s doing this. 

He keeps picking at his food, unsure what to say. He doesn’t want it to come off insensitive, doesn’t want to make this any worse than it already is. 

“Are you going to say something?” Shannon asks. 

Eddie stares. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he says. 

“Anything,” she snaps. “Literally, anything, Eddie, you’re going to war.”

”I might die,” Eddie says. “I might die tomorrow. Or I might die the next day, or maybe I’ll wait until the day before I return home from deployment.”

”Eddie.”

“Shannon,” he says. Snaps. “I understand this affects you too, okay? But I don’t want to do this.”

He doesn't know what to say beyond that.

I don’t want to do this. 

“Then why are you doing it?” She asks. “Why?”

Because he needs to provide for her. He needs to provide for his son, and he can’t do that here. 

“It’s the right thing to do,” Eddie says hollowly.

~~~~

He wakes with a start. 

This couch is awful. Not long enough for Eddie to stretch out, and he can’t believe he’d let Buck sleep on it the last few times he’d babysat. Before that, he’d just slept with Eddie, but even one night is too much on this damn couch. 

There’s some light out, but the early morning kind that wouldn’t have been enough to wake him, not naturally. It’s still dark enough for the glow of a laptop screen to draw his eyes toward the kitchen, where a very guilty looking Buck is peering at him over the top. 

“Why are you sitting in the kitchen at six in the morning with the lights off?” Eddie asks, still trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. 

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Buck says. “I’m sorry. I can- why don’t you go take the bed? I changed the sheets so you’re good to go if you want a few more hours. And, um, I can handle Christopher’s breakfast too.”

It’s taking an embarrassingly long time for Eddie to process Buck’s words. He knows for a fact that even Buck, a good talker, takes a little bit of time to wake up before he can be forming full, coherent sentences. And Buck has apparently been up for long enough to do chores, make himself some tea and set himself off on a research spiral. 

“How long have you been awake?” Eddie asks, bewildered. 

Glancing at the clock, Buck grimaces. “Yeah, I’m probably going to regret that later.”

Eddie snorts. Stretching, he winces as his back cracks, standing up. “I need a new couch.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’re never sleeping on that piece of crap ever again,” Eddie mutters. “Should have just taken my bed. Especially with your back.”

The air around them gets a little heavier. Maybe Eddie shouldn’t have brought it up so early in the morning, but he’s barely awake, at this point. He can’t be expected to filter himself, too.

“How is your back?” Eddie adds, looking at him pointedly.

“It’s fine,” he responds, way too quickly. 

Buck starts out looking at him. Nervous, but still making eye contact, but he can’t hold it. 

“It didn’t seem fine,” Eddie says. 

“How would you know?” Buck scoffs, but there’s no heat to it. “It’s not like we had a dungeon in high school.” 

Eddie snorts. Buck never hid his proclivities toward the kinkier side of things. He introduced some of it to Eddie when they were younger, but nothing beyond what they could get away with in the backseat or a few minutes hiding in his room in Abuela’s house. It was a big reason why Eddie learned how to dirty talk. Easy enough to get away with, no gear necessary. Plus, Buck got distracted really easily, so Eddie had to use a couple of different stimuli to hold his attention. And Buck liked dirty talk. Like, a lot . 

When they got back together, though, Buck had had stories . He told Eddie all about his escapades up and down the east coast, the time he’d spent in Peru. Eddie could probably map out where he was at in Buck’s life based on his sexual partners. 

It was almost overwhelming. Eddie liked hearing about things that made Buck happy, because it made it a lot easier for Eddie to gauge things that Buck wanted from him. Buck isn’t always good at asking for what he wants. This was kind of their compromise. 

Still, though. Buck likes to talk and Eddie likes listening to Buck talk, and there’s not enough time in the world for him to truly dissect everything that he’s hearing. Eddie listens to Buck tell him about all of the people he’d seen, and how much better it was for him when Buck knew he was doing good, when he was praised and loved and cherished. 

Eddie’d always known Buck shied away from physical pain. In his childhood years, Eddie could recall a handful of stories off the top of his head where Buck had done something stupid in order to get his parents’ attention. 

Sometimes, Buck was desperate. Sometimes, he felt unwanted and useless and helpless, and Eddie knew that was when he pulled some stupid stunt, because getting punished was better than not being touched at all. Getting… beat, whipped, whatever. In Buck’s mind, feeling hurt was better than feeling nothing, at all.  

Eddie never wanted Buck to feel that way about himself. He shouldn’t, ever. Because he wasn’t unwanted. Eddie wanted him. No matter how hard he tried- no matter how badly he needed to deny it, those feelings were still there. They weren’t going anywhere. And it was unfair. To Buck, but also to Ana. And Tommy.

Actually. Maybe not Tommy. 

Eddie has no idea what’s going on there. 

“So, you and Tommy?” Eddie asks, hoping he’s managing to convey his distaste in the few words. 

Buck glares at him. “No.”

Like that clears anything up. Eddie waits for Buck to elaborate, but it becomes glaringly apparent that he’s not planning on doing any such thing. 

“...No?”

“Yeah, no ,” Buck bites out. “There is no ‘me and Tommy.’”

“What happened?”

“I- Nothing .” 

He’s almost panicked. The way he says it. Eddie doesn’t know whether to push him on it or let him keep his secrets- but Evan never keeps secrets from Eddie. He doesn’t know how. Or maybe Eddie just doesn’t let him keep them? He doesn’t know, and these are too many complicated questions for him to be asking before the sun’s come up. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, hoping that the useless words are still somehow able to carry the gravity of the question. He holds Buck’s gaze, watches him struggle, and Eddie’s chest hurts. 

“Not really,” Buck admits. “But there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Eddie starts to protest, but Buck cuts him off. “No, no. Not like that, not, like, there’s nothing you can do about it. I just mean it’s a me thing, you know? I think I’ve gotta figure this one out on my own.” 

Eddie wants to respect that. He wants to respect it, he really does. Their conversation from yesterday is lingering in the air. Not enough to choke them, but enough that they have to try a little harder to breathe.
“I’m worried about you,” Eddie says. “I don’t- I don’t want this to be like El Paso or Peru.” 

Maybe it’s childish that Eddie can’t even bring himself to say it. But, to be fair, Eddie doesn’t really know that he could say anything more specific, not without making gross assumptions. He wants to know more. It’s kind of killing him, that he’s so blind to everything Evan struggled with after leaving, before Eddie walked right back into his life and blew everything up all over again. 

“It’s not,” Buck answers quickly. “It’s really not, Eddie. I promise. I’m not going to do anything stupid, I swear.”

There’s nothing wrong with his words, exactly. Eddie’s told Buck he didn’t want him to have another Big Breakdown. But something about the way he says it still isn’t sitting right. Eddie doesn’t want Buck to do anything stupid, but he wants Buck to want that. Buck could look Eddie in the eye and tell him that he’s about to jump off a cliff, and Eddie wouldn’t care as long as Buck didn’t actually do it. 

That doesn’t make any fucking sense, though. So. 

What the hell. Buck doesn’t want to talk, Eddie’s not going to make him. Not going to make it Buck’s responsibility to assuage Eddie’s worries, because that would be an order neither of them had any idea how to execute.

“Okay,” Eddie says, dragging himself off the couch “So, what are you doing?” 

Pulling more coffee out of the drawer, he starts to freshen up the pot. Buck clears his throat, sitting up straighter, pulling his laptop closer. Clicks the keyboard, impatiently waiting for the computer to wake up. 

He’s not looking directly at Eddie, but he’s redirecting his energy into whatever research spiral that he was doing before Eddie’s interruption, which usually calms him down some. 

“I know you’re probably going to think that I’m crazy,” Buck starts. “But I can’t stop thinking about Charlie and Sheila.”

“You’re not crazy,” Eddie murmurs over his coffee. “Something’s definitely off there.”

His eyes widen with something like excitement, and he turns the laptop toward where Eddie usually sits. He takes the invitation to sit down, trying to keep up with Buck’s rapid scrolling. 

“I know that I’m being too judgmental,” Buck starts. “But I was thinking about their stories- and on that facetime, Charlie didn’t know anything about his doctors, what kinds of doctors. He didn’t have a primary physician or even a doctor that specialized in his condition, like Dr. Gallagher for Chris’s CP.”

“I remember that,” Eddie says, watching as Buck navigates through a few different medical websites. “I thought that was weird, too.” 

“I was thinking about all of the symptoms you told me about,” Buck says. “And I couldn’t figure out what disease it was. If he truly had an autoimmune condition, then his mom shouldn’t have allowed any of the firefighters into the house without a serious decon. None of the autoimmune conditions I found fit the description, either. I thought that maybe he was just undiagnosed. There are lots of people who have a bunch of symptoms without a diagnosis, but autoimmune conditions are such a generalized diagnosis that you can usually find someone with a similar set of symptoms, at least. And I looked on a few support groups and even a subreddit. Couldn’t find anything that Charlie would qualify for.” 

Eddie hums, thinking back to when Christopher was first diagnosed with CP. “I asked him about his medications while I was taking care of him, too, and he said he wasn’t sure what he was taking.”

Buck frowns. “Christopher knows all of his daily medications. I mean, I know he’s smart, but I feel like if you eat something every day then you’d have some semblance of it, right?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Eddie agrees. “He didn’t even know where Sheila kept them.” 

Buck sighs. He looks almost guilty as he navigates away from those tabs, pulling up a different window altogether. 

“She mentioned something about a GoFundMe, right?” Buck asks, and Eddie nods. Even though Buck definitely wasn’t looking for confirmation on that one. “So I looked her up, and I found their GoFundMe, and- look. Look at the comments.”

Putting his mug down, Eddie pulls the laptop a touch closer, scrolling down into the comments section. Buck watches him scroll as Eddie passes some of the typical comments sending well wishes. Four or five down, though, there’s a deleted comment- and then a few more that warn the user away from donating.

This is a SCAM. this woman and her child have opened several accounts under several different last names. See [here] and [here]. 

“Click on those,” Buck urges. Eddie goes through them. Sheila’s even put up a picture of the both of them. Charlie’s different ages in all of the pages, but still recognizable. And so is Sheila. 

“That’s odd,” Eddie murmurs, mind racing. “You think she’s faking it? Charlie did have a stomachache. And he’s not getting enough nutrition.” 

Buck hesitates, but determination overtakes his face before he can even say anything about it. “I think it might be worse. I think it might be Munchausen’s.”

“I thought Munchausen’s was when you hurt yourself for medical attention,” Eddie says.

“It is,” Buck says. “But, um. There’s a type of Munchausen’s called Munchausen’s by proxy, where someone- usually a caretaker- hurts someone else to get that attention. You’ve never seen the Gypsy Rose thing?”

Uh oh. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re not missing anything,” Buck says dismissively. “I’ll tell you about it later. Sorry, back to this thing, though. I think she’s hurting Charlie.”

Eddie thinks about Christopher. He thinks about Charlie, about the things that didn’t make any sense. 

“Moving him from state to state without sending him to regular school,” Eddie says faintly. “No other support system. Vague symptoms. He might not have an autoimmune condition, but the kid is still suffering, either way.”

Buck shrinks in on himself, more of the guilt permeating on his face. 

“I feel awful about it,” Buck admits. “Like. What if she really is just a struggling mother with a sick kid? And I’m just making everything worse?” 

“Hey, no,” Eddie says. “You saw the red flags. And all of this- if it quacks like a duck.”

“It’s a duck,” Buck mutters. “And if there’s any chance she’s not taking care of him, then I don’t want to leave him there, defenseless.” 

“What do you think we should do?” Eddie asks. “About the duck?”

Buck sighs, taking Eddie’s coffee mug without thinking, draining the rest of it. Eddie winces. He was hoping Buck would try and rest a while longer, but that’s not happening with caffeine in his system. 

“Are you still thinking about picking up that extra shift today?” Buck asks tentatively.

“Yeah.” 

“Maybe- could you maybe just let Cap know?” Evan asks, nervous. “I mean. It might be nothing. And I’m going to talk to Athena before I call anyone else, I’m not- not gonna just report them. But you could let Cap know. And then we could- we could just be ready, just in case. We should be there so it’s not just a bunch of strangers taking him away from his mother.” 

It takes actual effort to keep his stupid smile off his face. Maybe that’s inappropriate given the circumstances. As worried as Eddie is about Charlie, he knows that with Athena and Buck in his corner? The kid is going to be just fine. Buck wouldn’t rest until he’d figured this one out. And it’s just like him, to be so worried- Eddie has no doubt that Buck has thought through every possible scenario, has been trying to deduce the way this is going to affect every single person involved. And Eddie knows that they’ve both come to the same conclusion. 

Kid comes first. Always. 

“I can do that,” Eddie promises. “It’ll be okay, no matter what happens.” 

Buck smiles, big, happy grin, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, thank you.” 

He fidgets a little in his seat, closing the laptop, brain still going so fast with nothing to do. A quick glance over his shoulder gives Eddie the time, and he stands up to start getting ready for work.

“Would you mind making us something for breakfast?” Eddie asks. “Christopher will be up in fifteen minutes. I’m sure he’d love it if you could take him to school today.”

Buck perks up at that, and he practically leaps up, digging through Eddie’s fridge in seconds. 

Eddie laughs to himself, heading off toward his bedroom, watching Buck move around the kitchen like it was his own.

He doesn’t have any feelings about it. None, at all. 

~~~~

[Buck]: athena is worried. She’s talking to her boss rn but she thinks we should go as soon as possible

[Buck]: i think they’re just making sure there’s enough for a warrant

    alright I’ll have cap take us out of rotation for the next hour. He’s on board

[Buck]: ok perfect 

[Buck]: got the warrant. Headed over now.

Eddie’s been staring at their text string the entire ride over. Even with the sirens and the relatively noncongested (it’s Los Angeles, so it’s still a head cold, which is much better compared to the typical sinusitis-level of clogged up) roads, it still takes too long to get there. Eddie is sitting in the front seat, a little more anxious than he’d like to admit.

 After leaving Buck and Christopher at home, Eddie’d had a lot of time to digest. It was easier to feel good about the situation when he was with Buck. Buck, who made the plans and did the research. Buck, who Eddie trusted with Christopher, because he knew that he’d never give up on any child, let alone his own. 

Without him there, it was harder to stay sane about it. Eddie feels like every single story he’s heard about parental abuse is playing on repeat. Sheila didn't seem violent, but Eddie's hardly a worthy judge of character. 

Athena’s squad car is already there when they pull up, and Eddie grits his teeth. Cap isn’t IC here, so Eddie jumps out, knowing that the paramedics can handle the ambulance on their own. Adjusting his radio, Eddie finds the correct channel as he makes it to the stairs. 

“Athena?” he asks. “This is Diaz. Buckley, you there?”

“We’ve got Sheila in custody,” Athena says, voice confident through the radio. “Buck is in the apartment with Charlie. You’re cleared to go in.” 

Eddie doesn’t bother responding, taking the stairs two at a time. The door is open, police presence heavy. Neighbors have their doors cracked, peering down the hallway, and Eddie can’t even bring himself to be annoyed. 

Charlie is okay. He seems overwhelmed, which Eddie couldn’t (wouldn’t) fault him for, a little nervous, but he doesn’t look scared, which Eddie is grateful for. Buck is sitting with him, and they’re talking- Charlie is still engaged in the conversation, and Eddie breathes out. He knew they were safe. Athena wouldn’t have left Buck and Charlie in here without making sure it was safe, but he's still grateful to see them. 

When Buck sees him, he smiles at him. "Hey! Hey, Charlie. You remember Eddie?"

Eddie waves, going to stand with the two of them, squatting down next to Buck. "Hey, kid. How are you feeling?"

Charlie shrugs, still watching. There are three officers in here doing a sweep, and Eddie can't imagine how he must be feeling. 

Buck nudges him. "We should take him to the hospital."

Eddie nods. "Yeah, of course. Medics were on their way up with gear, but we can walk down if Charlie feels good enough?"

Eddie is half surprised that Charlie was listening enough to respond. "I'm fine."

Buck smiles, still sad, a little worried, but they walk Charlie down to meet the paramedics. He sits on the gurney, a little out of it as they check him out, but he answers questions easily enough. Eddie offers to go with him to the hospital, and then Buck, since he isn't working. But Charlie declines politely. His heart rate is steady, sats are level, and Athena's squad car has been long gone by the time they'd made it out, so Eddie helps them load the gurney. 

"You're a brave kid," Eddie says, patting his knee. "My friends are going to take good care of you, okay?" 

"Okay," Charlie says, a little quick. "Um. Thanks." 

Closing the door, Eddie hears Buck exhale from somewhere behind him. He feels it on a near visceral level.

"Good kid," Buck says when Eddie's facing him, hands shoved in his pockets. "You sure you don't want to ride in with him?"

The edge of Eddie's lip quirks up. He's technically still on shift, can't allow himself to be distracted by personal problems of any kind. He knows the paramedics are good, that they'll take care of him, and he has to get back to the house, but he's barely managed to form a thought before he's stumbling. 

Something hits his shoulder. Hard. Enough force to send him swaying. 

Eddie notices the blood covering Evan’s face one second before he thinks of pain, one second before he’s thinking, feeling absolutely nothing, at all.

Chapter Text

When Buck blinks, the blood stings his eyes. 

They start watering almost immediately, the salinity of his tears clouding his vision, but he can still see him. See Eddie.

Eddie’s eyes lock onto his, and he starts to sway, legs falling out from under him as he’s tackled to the ground. 

It was quiet. Weirdly quiet. Gunshots are supposed to be loud. The average decibel level of a gunshot is around 160. Buck doesn’t remember where he read that, but he did. Sirens aren’t ever louder than 120, but usually closer to 110. 

Buck’s gotten used to loud sounds. But gunshots- they’re supposed to be loud. Buck has no experience with guns- he didn’t ever make it that far in the SEALs, not nearly long enough to get used to something as awful as a gunshot.

He barely heard it. He doesn’t even remember hearing it, just one second to the next, seeing Eddie’s entire body be rocked with the force of the shot, see the blood pouring out from the open wound, watch Eddie as he crumbled to the floor. 

Life sucked right out of him. 

The captain knocked him to the ground. He’s on the ground, on the pavement, and he can’t look away from Eddie. Eddie, who- he’s breathing, still breathing, his eyes are fluttering. 

He’s not dead.

Eddie’s not dead. 

There’s more screaming, more gunshots- still too fucking quiet. Buck can’t hear anything over the pounding in his damn ears. 

Buck is frozen. He’s frozen, watches-

Eddie’s fingers inch across the ground as the pool of blood grows, and Buck can’t fucking breathe.

But Eddie’s not dead. He’s not dead, he’s looking at Buck-

Help. 

I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.

Buck’s spent many, many lonely nights wondering what that means. Love. Evan knew what love was. His parents said it far less than Maddie did, which explained why he felt so much more from his sister than he did from their parents. Maybe if they’d said it more, then he’d feel more loved. 

He remembers telling Mom and Dad that he loved them, crossing his fingers behind his back, trying to cross his toes in his socks. Sometimes, it worked. Sometimes, they said it back, and Evan was elated. He’d managed to convince himself that it was undeniable proof. His parents loved him. And the way that they always treated him- brushing him aside, uncaring, completely uninvolved- he convinced himself that all of that was love, too.

And when that wasn’t enough to satisfy him, it was enough to confirm that he was selfish. He was too much, asked for too much from people. He had too many expectations and too many feelings, and he just had to make himself smaller. His parents loved him, and that had to be enough.

For a while there, Buck made sure to say it as much as he could. He wanted to make sure that all of the people around him knew how much he loved them, how much he appreciated spending time with them. He couldn’t give them a reason to believe that Buck didn’t care, or let them live with the same kinds of insecurity he did.

It took him a long time to realize that it weirded people out, and an even longer time to train himself out of blurting it all out. He can’t just share everything he’s feeling. That’s not fair to everyone around him, who never asked Evan to dump all of these big feelings out on them. It was his responsibility to keep it all inside of him. When he didn’t, people got hurt. 

Eddie got hurt. 

All of that extra energy didn’t just disappear, though. It had to go somewhere. He spent a long time giving himself over to whatever came his way, after Eddie. Find anything and everything that might fill this giant, empty void that he’d become. Which doesn’t make any sense. He’s so full of feelings, but he’s so empty, at the same damn time. It doesn’t make sense. Evan doesn’t make any sense. 

There was a small, little boy lost somewhere inside of him that just wanted to hear it. He just wanted to be loved, wanted someone to feel so full of it that it simply had to come out. Evan wanted so badly to love and be loved, but he couldn’t impose that burden onto anyone else. 

Somewhere, lost, an even smaller part of Evan knew one thing, for certain. He existed on this world for others. He was here to serve others. It was the best thing he’d ever done- becoming a firefighter, working hard at the 118. Pour all fo that extra love into helping as many people as possible. Hope that one day, it’ll feel like enough. 

He couldn’t promise much, but he could be helpful. He could help. He could save people. He should save people, especially the ones he loves. 

I’m going to love you for the rest of my life. 

Evan can- he’s supposed to save the people he loves. 

I’m going to love you-

Help. 

The shock is still there, it’s not gone, but Buck has to shove it down. He needs to push it away, can’t let himself drown in it- because Evan promised to love Eddie, he promised. And he’s going to love him. He needs to love him, and that means saving him. He has to save Eddie. Even though he failed - especially because he failed at doing that before. 

I’m going to love you.

Wrenching himself away from the captain, Buck rolls under the engine, crawling toward Eddie, who’s still looking at him. 

“Put your arm out!” Buck calls, praying Eddie can still hear him. “Put your arm out, Eddie, just- I’m coming. I’m coming.” 

Eddie’s blinking, fading fast, and the blood just keeps pouring out. Buck doesn't know how much longer he has. Humans can lose about 20% of their total blood volume before going into hypovolemic shock. Healthy humans usually have somewhere from 9-11 pints of blood in their body, and Eddie was taller than the average human male, so he probably had 11. If not more. 

11 pints doesn’t feel like that much. About 1.6 gallons. He doesn’t know how he would measure his blood loss, not right now, not with Eddie’s blood draining out of him, staining the pavement. too much blood. Evan has to drag him through it- through a pool of his own damn blood. Eddie’s pained yell is so much louder than the gunshot was, Evan could fucking swear. 

It could be a gallon. it could be less. Buck has no fucking idea. Blood’s usually 10% of a person’s weight. He hopes to fuck that Eddie feels lighter because of adrenaline, not because of blood loss. 

The gurney is barely locked down by the time they pull away. There are still gunshots. Still echoes. Still the rush of Buck’s own blood, so much of his own blood in his own damn body, blood he’d give to Eddie without question if that meant keeping him alive. 

Tearing the bandage open, exposing the wound, Evan can’t fucking breathe when he sees. Gaping, large caliber wound, and he pads it with gauze, tries to stop the bleeding. 

“Are y’hurt?” Eddie asks, his voice rough, and Buck is so fucking confused. 

“What?” He sputters, following his eyes until he sees Eddie taking in the blood on his shirt, terrified. “Oh. Oh, no, it’s not my blood, Eds. It’s not mine. I’m fine.” 

It should be, though. Evan knows. It should be his own damn blood, and he can’t give that to Eddie right now, too. He promises it’s not his. Tells Eddie not to worry. 

“Good,” Eddie exhales, his eyes fluttering. Closing, and Evan panics.

 “No, Eddie. Stay with me. We’re almost there, okay?” Buck says, looking out the windshield, trying to figure out where the fuck they are, why it’s taking so damn long. “I need you to stay with me, okay? Think about- think about Christopher, and your parents.”

Buck has to physically stop himself from vomiting up every unsaid promise, all of his unsaid feelings, convince Eddie that he has to hang on. He’s got too much to lose. Too many people here who love him.

I’d give you anything, Evan wants to promise. Anything you want. Just don’t do this to your family. Christopher needs you. 

“You’re going to be okay,” Buck promises. Begs. 

This can’t be the end. 

Their sirens are on. Evan doesn’t know why the doctors aren’t already outside. He jumps off the bus, waves them over, tries to explain what happened. The paramedics do it better. Evan ca help. He carries Eddie out, trying not to jostle the quick packing and dressing, gets him on the gurney. 

There’s no room. No room for him to stand a round the gurney, and he knows they don’t need Eddie’s pining best friend to be taking up space in the trauma room. They need space. Do what they do best. 

Do what Evan couldn’t. 

Someone is asking him questions. He does his best to answer, follows them into the waiting room. The police need a statement after a gunshot wound is reported, and he’s the only person who wasn’t there on duty. Give the statement. They ask him if he needs to be checked out, but he shakes his head. 

“It’s not my blood,” he explains again. His outer shirt is soaked in it. Shining beacon, staining his hands and his face and his shirt. 

“Evan?”

He looks up dully. 

“Abuelita?” he asks, his voice hollow. 

He almost doesn’t believe what he’s seeing. Granted, it’s been a long time. He’s surprised that she recognizes him, even. It’s not like he was a permanent figure in her life. He was her grandson’s friend, and then he was gone. 

“Evanito!” she gasps. 

He wants to melt into her arms, beg for comfort and forgiveness that he doesn’t deserve, but he can’t move. She’s only a few feet away but he’s frozen, guilt sinking into him, keeping him anchored to the floor, trying to pull him down further. 

“Cielito, are you okay?” 

Little sky, she’d explained. Because it’s like you’ve got a whole world in those baby blue eyes. 

Something catches in his chest, with all of this love staring him in the face, finally having gotten her back. For a few seconds. 

This is the woman who taught him what a mother’s hug was supposed to feel like. And he’s ruined her life. 

“It’s my fault,” he says, choking on his own guilt. “It’s my fault. He- someone shot him, Ms. Isabel, I couldn’t save him. I- I couldn’t save him, it all happened so fast, I’m sorry. I’m so- I’m sorry, Ms. Isabel, I’m so sorry-”

“Evan.” 

Cringing, he wipes his eyes, trying to swallow his own tears. She’s going to yell at him. Probably call her curandera best friend to set a curse on him, make sure he suffers every single day for the rest of his life, and Evan deserved it. He’s never deserved it more. 

“Evan, honey, I need you to look at me.”

Evan doesn’t want to. He really doesn’t, but she deserves to look into the eye of the person who hurt her, so he tries. Manages. 

Doesn’t make sense, still so kind. 

“There you are,” she says, soft smile, soft, soft eyes. Eddie has eyes like that. Soft. Serious. “This is not your fault, cielito.”

He shakes his head. It’s pathetic. Lip trembling, he has to physically bite his tongue. She wanted to talk, he can’t cut her off. Stay respectful, let her talk. 

“I love that boy in there,” she says. “Eddito, my first grandchild. My only grandson. I love him, more than anything.”

“He loves you so much,” Evan blubbers. “You were his favorite. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” 

“Callate. Let me talk.”

Evan nods rapidly. So stupid, he just said that. Quiet. Smaller.

“I love him,” she says. “And I believe that God will not let him die, not when he has so many people here who need him.”

“Like Christopher,” he mumbles. 

“Si. We cannot protect our babies from the world,” she says. “And if someone hurts my nieto, then I would want to be there, with him- and if not me, then with someone who loves him at least as much as I do.” 

She pats his hand. 

“You were there for him, cielito,” she says softly, tears in her eyes. “Sometimes, that’s all we can do.” 

Evan always wanted to be there for Eddie. Even when he left, he didn’t want to. He’d held on to that. An unfair amount of pressure. Eddie, the only person who’d never left him. 

Because Evan left first. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to tell Christopher,” Buck admits. 

“No details yet,” Isabel says. “When the doctors come to update us, we tell him more, yes? You go home. Clean yourself up, take care of my bisnieto.”

We. She says. So easily. Buck’s not alone in this, far from the only person who loves Eddie. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” Buck admits. “I always thought about writing. I’m sorry I never did.”

She smiles, even bigger, pulling him into a hug. 

“Oh, sweet boy,” she sighs, holding him tight. “I’ve missed you so very much, cielito. I’m so very happy to see you.” 

She kisses his cheek before sending him off, firmly. “He’s going to come back,” Abuela says, and Buck smiles tearfully. 

“You tell him,” he jokes weakly. 

Tell him he needs to come home. 

~~~

Buck doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He should be at the hospital, or out with the 118. Doing literally anything other than standing in Eddie’s house. 

Throwing his clothes in the sink, he goes off to find a bottle of peroxide. There isn’t too much staining, shouldn’t be too bad. Evan likes when it bubbles. Chemical reaction, cleaning out the blood, wash it all out. 

He doesn’t want to waste Eddie’s water, so after he pulls on some of the spare clothes he’s got at Eddie’s house, Evan takes Eddie’s hamper with him. A few shirts and sweatpants, hoodies, things that’ll survive the washer regardless of temperature. It smells like him. Whole damn house smells like him. 

Do laundry. Eddie will be able to wear this- his favorite hoodie, if he wakes up. When he wakes up. 

Evan just has to hold himself together. Pick Christopher up, don’t let him suffer. Tell him more when we know more. That’s all he can do. 

That, and laundry. 

He learned quickly to check the pockets when doing laundry at the Diaz house. There was a mishap with Christopher’s chocolate bar that quickly followed an incident with a bunch of lint from a pocket flyer. 

Loose change. A gum wrapper- Buck’s gum wrapper. A bunch of receipts and a piece of cardboard, origins of which Buck has zero indication.

Shaky fingers. He unfolds the receipts, tossing all of the ones for food, knowing Eddie likes to keep the ones for Christopher’s medical expenses. None of these are medical expenses. Whole Foods, Thai, Pizza, like, three times, Buck, and then more Thai.

Pausing, his hands freeze up, trying not to ruin the one with his name written with Eddie’s stupid block lettering.

Maybe he should be more concerned with how little he cares about his privacy. Buck’s literally in his laundry room right now, in his house, with the keys that Eddie made for him. Doesn’t strike him that it might be a breach of privacy until he’s unfolded the page.

It’s not like Buck forgot that Eddie was an artist, exactly. But it had been a while since Buck had seen him with a sketchpad. Or a camera. Or paint, pencils. 

But he knew how good Eddie was. If he forgot, the proof was right in front of him. In pen, a picture he doesn’t recognize. Two faces, both cut off by the edges of the paper, so only about half of their faces are shown. Buck recognizes his own birthmark, the crease of his eye. Soft glint. Smiling face. 

And the other face, smaller than his own- with glasses too big for his face, silly buck teeth and curly, curly hair that Buck would recognize anywhere.

Christopher. 

He’d drawn Buck with Christopher.

Almost frantically, he folds it back up, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans.

I’m going to love you for the rest of my life, he had said.

“I don’t want you to die,” Buck whispers. Just out. Just to say it. Let himself hear it.

What fresh hell would that be?

Chapter Text

Christopher is always the first thought on his mind. 

It’s a parent urge, or something. Buck would probably have a word for it if Eddie ever asked, but it was something so natural that he never bothered bringing it up. Taking care of his son- making sure he’s alive, and well, that’s always the first thought. 

Calling it an “urgent” thought feels dishonest. Anything in this state being “urgent” would be dishonest, because it’s taking him a solid thirty seconds to even put his thoughts into words. 

“Edmundo?”

“Where’s my son?” he asks, mouth so dry it’s a wonder he can get even that out. 

“He’s okay,” the voice says. “He’s at home with your aunt.” 

Christopher would be okay. Eddie knows. He’s made arrangements, made sure that Christopher would be well taken care of in case he had to leave him. Christopher would go to the only person that Eddie knew would fight for him-

So why isn’t he with Buck?

Wading through his memories, Eddie tries to put everything together. He remembers- Charlie. Athena had Charlie, they’d left the scene. Buck was there, too. Eddie’d been talking to Buck.

“Where’s-” he cuts himself off with a cough. His mouth is so dry. Distantly, he wonders how long he’s been out. Maybe Buck is still in danger. Still in surgery. Buck’s face had been covered, almost like he’d been splashed. Eddie remembers the first time Christopher had sneezed with a bloody nose, practically sprayed it up and down his chest. 

“Shh,” the voice says, a soft hand patting his. She’s holding his hand. “You’ve been in surgery, Edmundo. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Oh. Eddie was in surgery. 

Eddie’d- something hit him. Hit his shoulder, right before he’d seen Buck, covered in blood. His blood. 

“I was shot,” he breathes out. 

“Yes. You were, but you’re going to be okay.”

“Is he hurt?” Eddie asks, forcing his eyes open. 

“No, no,” she says quickly. “Nobody else was hurt, Eddie. And now you’re awake.”

Ana’s voice is as soft as her hands are. She’s still holding his, even as he tenses up. He manages to keep his eyes open long enough to look past her- two empty chairs next to his bed. Swallowing, he swings his whole head toward the door, trying to see if he can catch any glimpse of his family. 

“Hey,” Ana says, so soothing. Masterful teacher voice that does absolutely nothing for him. “You’re okay, Eddie.”

This isn’t how things are supposed to be. He’s not supposed to be crushed to see her, sitting, devoted at his bedside. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” he breathes out, fighting to stay awake. 

“Yeah, I would try to stop with the dying,” Ana jokes. “Hospitals are uncomfortable.” 

She’s sweet. So very sweet, so kind, and it just solidifies that Eddie can’t keep doing this. 

“No, I can’t stay with you,” Eddie says. “We need to break up.”

And she isn’t even surprised. Eddie can see hurt. Sadness, especially in the way she tears up, but there’s no shock. Like she could see it coming. 

“You have been a godsend through all of this,” Eddie says, and it’s taking him a long damn time to form sentences. “You’ve been so kind, and so wonderful with Christopher. You’re intelligent, and you’re thoughtful and I am so grateful to know you, but I’m not in love with you.” 

Ana’s smile barely shifts. She pats his hand twice, sniffling gently. 

“Smarter woman would have figured that out sooner, huh?” She says, looking down. 

Eddie snorts. “Don’t do that. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and you knew. We both did, we just- I don’t know.” 

“Hey, we tried,” Ana says, and the tears don’t build. They don’t fall. “We did. And you’re so wonderful, Edmundo. Buck’s a lucky man.”

Eddie hasn’t even brought Buck up yet. 

“We just deserve to find someone who-” he cuts himself off. Catches his breath. This is embarrassing, but he can’t find it in him to care. “Who makes waking up easier .” 

I wanted Buck here. I wanted Buck.

“Look, um,” Ana says, wiping her eyes. “I may be way out of line here, but I just- I need to say something.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees readily. He’s strung her along for months, seems like this is the least he can do. 

“You need to stop forcing yourself to be someone you’re not,” Ana says, patting his hand. “Relationships take work, but love doesn’t. Loving someone is the easy part, and if you have to force that, then it’s not real.”

Eddie has to cough again. Keep his head up, his eyes open. Force himself to look at this woman who Eddie had never quite managed to give himself to- had never opened up to her, but apparently, it didn’t matter. 

Written on his own damn skin.

“I’m not supposed to love him,” Eddie says thickly. He’s not. 

“‘Supposed to’ has no room in love, Edmundo,” she says. “It doesn’t matter what you’re supposed to do. You need to find someone who gives you what you need. Doesn’t matter what the rest of the world thinks.”

“That feels uncomfortably close to the type of defense that predators use.”

Ana laughs. “Well, you’re not a predator.” 

Isn’t he, though? Dragging Ana into it, trying so hard to force himself into the proper role of being the person she deserves, knowing the whole damn time that he could never be him?

Dragging Buck back into this, forcing him to relive painful memories of loving and leaving ?
“No,” Ana says. “You’re not.” 

He isn’t sure if he said that out loud or if he’s just being obvious, again, but it doesn’t matter. 

Eddie didn’t want Ana here. He didn’t want her, and she didn’t deserve to go on feeling unwanted. 

“Goodbye, Eddie,” she says, kissing his cheek. 

She’s out of the room by the time he’s managed to open his damn mouth. Bye. 

Shaky fingers go to push the call bell, and he begrudgingly lets the nurse feed him some more drugs, ice chips, and he’s grateful for the water. He asks for his phone, but they don’t have it- some guy promises he’d called Eddie’s emergency contacts, and he tries to relax. Buck will call Abuela. And Pepa. And hopefully bring Christopher. 

Still. It feels like forever before Abuela shows up in the doorway. 

“Eddito,” she says, her scolding voice already on. 

“Abuela.”

It comes out softer than he meant it. In Eddie’s defense, his eyes are barely open and he’s exhausted- so, so tired. 

“Where’s Christopher?” he mumbles. 

“Evanito is taking care of him,” Abuela says. “Your son’s in good hands.” 

Eddie nods. Keeps nodding, clutches onto his Abuela’s arm, unable to let her go but not willing to ask her to stay. He doesn’t want to be alone right now. With his own thoughts. 

“That’s a face I never thought I’d see again,” Abuela says. “When did you get back in touch with him, Eddie?”

Ugh. “Two years ago?” 

“And you kept him from me all this time?” She says. “If you weren’t en la hospital, I’d kill you.” 

Eddie grins lazily. “Never too late.” 

“I didn’t expect to see him again, but I always hoped I would,” Abuela says. “After Evan left, you stopped laughing.” 

A distant ache had long since set itself somewhere underneath his skin. That burn of longing Eddie’d once been so familiar with had never truly left him, not even when Buck was in his arms. They could be touching- Buck pressed up against his chest, sleeping so very soundly in his arms, and he’d still feel it. 

Longing. 

“I hurt him,” Eddie admits. “Abuela, I- I hurt him.”

“Do you love him?” Abuela asks. 

Eddie feels the edges of panic start to sink in. His throat is still a little dry, the lights are a little too bright. He’s a little kid again. He’s that same teenager, still so in love with Buck, still so fucking terrified. 

Abuela- she holds his hand. Didn’t tense up when she asked the question, so simple when she says it. 

Do you love him?

Panic feels closer to nausea these days than asphyxiation, which he supposes he should be grateful for. Feeling like you’re going to throw up is supposed to be marginally better than suffocating, but in the moment, it takes over his body. Draws his hand away, crossing his arms to hold pressure over his stomach. 

“Eddito.”

Eyes squeeze shut, block out any light, any sound, don’t look at her. Can’t. Too scared of what he might see. 

“Ay, nieto. Mira su Abuela.” 

Prying his eyes open, he just about manages, tears welling in his eyes. 

“Tengo miedo,” he mumbles. I’m scared. 

“Of what?” she asks. “Of loving him?”

No. No, that’s the easy part- the type of innate, natural reaction that comes to him easy as breathing. He’s always loved Evan Buckley. It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. 

If you have to force it, then it’s not real. 

“I’m scared I don’t deserve him,” Eddie says truthfully. “I’m scared I won’t be able to- to give him what he needs. I’m scared that Mama and Papa will hate me, and that Christopher will be bullied.”

Eddie’s scared he’s going to lose him. 

He’s scared he’s never going to feel normal again. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Abuela says, sighing. “It’s such a scary world, and I know how scary it is to not be able to control it.”

“That’s the beauty of it, though, si?” she says. “All of these things are so far out of your control. The world is scary, but you’re brave enough to keep going when you’re a little scared.”

Either she’s speaking in riddles or Eddie’s just a lot more drugged out than he realized. 

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Were you scared when you were waiting for Christopher to be born?” Abuela asks. 

Eddie snorts. “I thought so. But I was more scared the day of, and every day after.”

“Yet, you kept going.”

“I had no choice,” Eddie huffs. “He’s my son. Come on, Abuela. You know that.”

“I do. And you did it because you love him,” Abuela says. “Because you woke up in the morning, and you decided you were going to provide for your son. You went off, you fought. And then you came home and you kept fighting. You have so, so much strength in you, Eddito. Why is it I never see you use that for yourself?” 

He doesn’t know what to say. The first few responses are not something he could ever admit to her. Can’t admit to her that the grandson she loved so very much still didn’t truly think he could love her back. 

Except that’s not- it’s not right . 

He knows he loves Abuela. Just like he knows he loves Pepa, like he knows that he still loves his parents, and he knows that his life would be so much easier if he didn’t . 

“What do I do?” he asks, helpless. 

“Do you love him?” she asks again. “Are you in love with him, mijo?”

It’s there, on the tip of his tongue, followed quickly by his knee-jerk reaction. Deny, deny, deny.

Eddie isn’t even certain what’s stopping him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lied to himself, or even to Abuela. Not that she believed him. 

Eddie’s tired of lying. Tired of being dishonest, of not giving himself over to anyone or anything at all, and he wants to stop. 

Is he allowed? To stop? 

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks, voice embarrassingly small.

Eddie’s family mostly communicated through anger. It was the only way to communicate in the Diaz household. Helena wasn’t much of a yeller- Ramon, sure. But Helena knew how to express her anger through sharp words and sharp tone. Whether it was through volume or just raw cruelty, Eddie learned anger first, and nothing made them angrier than when he acted broken. Soft. Fragile. 

“He’s a good boy, Eddito,” Abuela says. “It’s more than okay. It’s amazing.” 

When he was younger, he couldn’t stop himself. He’d usually be crying long before he made it into Abuela’s house, but he curbed that for his own damn sanity. The lectures were still long and hurtful, but he had to put it away for later. Emotions, feelings. He removed them from himself, floating distantly around his head- his, but not close enough to be him. Couldn’t let himself feel that, except for when he went to see Abuela- she’d make him tres leches, his favorite enchiladas. He’d eat it all, and for a few hours, he was allowed to feel love . 

When Abuela and Pepa moved away in high school, Eddie’d thought about moving with them. It was a pipe dream more than anything, because Helena was a control freak and there’s no way in hell she’d be willing to explain to all of her judgy friends why her eldest son wasn’t living with them anymore. Still, though, Evan had left and now Abuela was leaving and Shannon was pregnant and Eddie had no idea what to do or how to feel. 

Eddie was lost. He was lost, and he didn’t even bother trying to get his bearings back, and now here he is. Flat on his ass, knocked into another hospital room, another fucking nightmare. Stress dream that he can never quite wake up from. 

It’s all similar, too. Waking up. Moving through the feelings. However a shrink would describe it. Get a damn grip, Diaz. That’s really it. 

He can hear the familiar tap of the crutches, and his heart soars. He tries to wipe away his tears, sit up straighter, put a smile on when his favorite person in the world appears in his doorway. 

His son looks good. Happy, healthy. Maybe a little tired, but he knows how long that walk from the parking lot to the ICU is, and Christopher would have wanted to do it on his own. His shirt is clean, though, curls relatively tamed, and Eddie knows his son was loved, in Eddie’s absence.

And Eddie’s- he’s so damn grateful to know exactly who follows him. 

Christopher makes his way over to the bed, Buck smiling as he guides him in, picking Christopher up to sit him next to Eddie on the gurney before setting his crutches to the side, within Christopher’s reach. 

He’s standing on Eddie’s good side, and Eddie barely has to strain when he reaches out, fingers meeting Buck’s before he’s even turned around. 

Eddie waits. Buck’s fingers tangle with his, and he looks down at Eddie, eyes wet. 

He squeezes Eddie’s hand, and he knows. 

“Dad,” Christopher says, breaking him from his trance. “You’re alive!”

“He sure is,” Buck says, smiling, but it’s tired. Abuela has moved to the seat further away, and Buck pulls it in with his ankle. Eddie’s glad he doesn’t let go. It might have taken his entire consciousness to hold on, but he would have done it. He doesn’t think he can let go of Buck, not right now. 

Christopher hugs him and Eddie breathes him in, feels something inside of him settle. Like his body knows that he can relax, now. They’re here. 

“We did math and science and Buck made me choose my science fair project,” Christopher says, incredibly put out. “But at least I don’t have to do something dumb, like my teacher last year. She just wanted me to study worms.”

“Worms are important,” Eddie breathes out. “They’re. Um. Detrivores?”

“Detritivores,” Christopher corrects. “But this is way cooler, Dad. We’re gonna make a model showing the different gravity levels on all the planets. Just gotta approve it with my teacher. And Buck won’t let me skip school today even though you’re in the hospital.”

“That’s because Buck knows how important it is for you to get a good education,” Eddie says, trying not to let his words drop off. “You’ve got big things to do, mijo.” 

Eddie’s lucky that Christopher is in a talkative mood. He’s a good kid. Always has been, lights up every damn room that he walks into. Abuela loves her great grandson and Buck loves his Christopher, and Eddie gets to sit there, watch his family- see all of those feelings floating just above his head, wonder if he’s strong enough to let them in. 

Eddie’s survived two shootings. A war, teen parenting- and Evan was always way smarter than Eddie’d ever claimed to be. 

He’s a great kid because of you.

“I’ll take him to school,” Abuela says. “Cielito, you stay here and keep him company.” 

“Okay,” Buck mumbles. Abuela smiles, kisses Eddie’s forehead, signing a cross for him before moving right over and doing the same to Buck, following Christopher out before shutting the door behind her. 

“Told you,” Eddie says, a wave of exhaustion hitting him. “You’re her favorite.”

He snorts, turning back toward Eddie. “I missed her.”

“She missed you,” Eddie says, honestly. “I should have told her that you were in Los Angeles.”

He smiles, and Eddie watches it crinkle up his eyes, smile lines all the way up his face. Eddie does his best to get his muscles to cooperate, trailing his thumb across the back of Evan’s hand. 

“I should have done a lot of things,” Eddie says. 

Evan still smiles. He doesn’t pull his hand away from him, stays still and open. The hospital lights are harsh, but there isn’t a world in which Evan Buckley isn’t beautiful. 

“I broke up with Ana,” Eddie says. The words seem to tumble out of him. As long as he doesn’t think too hard, they just come out. 

Buck is more surprised than Ana was, which probably isn’t as funny as Eddie feels like it is. 

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie says. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry- I knew I was going to hurt you, and I couldn’t stop myself from loving you.”

“Eddie.” 

“I thought if I acted like none of it happened, then it would just go away,” Eddie admits. “Hoped, I guess.” 

Eddie’s never been good at words. They come easier with Buck, but it’s hard to put words to the things he’s feeling when he doesn’t actually feel them.

But he wants to feel this. Eddie wants this. He wants to be in love with Evan Buckley, give himself over to the most beautiful person Eddie'd ever known. 

“You were right. You deserve better than what I’ve been giving you,” Eddie says. “So I’m going to be better."

Buck exhales softly, running his hand through Eddie’s messy hair. He’s disgusting. He doesn't know how to tell him this in a way to prove it. Eddie wants to prove this to Evan. He wants to promise him anything and everything, say anything. 

“When you moved to LA, I was worried,” Buck says finally. “I was terrified. And embarrassed.”

“Why embarrassed?” Eddie asks. He's not sure he wants to hear the answer, but he knows for a damn fact that he'd rather hear that than nothing at all. 

"Because I’ve spent nearly a decade now treasuring memories about a relationship that practically ruined me,” Buck admits. “And I know that sounds dramatic, but loving you, it’s- I don’t know. It makes you crazy when you think you love someone more than they love you.”

That was Evan's whole life. Evan loved big and loud and open, these incredibly ecstatic highs and these excruciating lows. It didn't matter. Good or bad, Evan felt it. So overtly genuine. He wore his heart on his sleeve, no matter how terrified he was that the other person might not love him back. And he was. 

Eddie knew Evan's shame. He knew his fears, he'd lived through his loss. Eddie knew that Evan had experienced pain Eddie could only ever imagine feeling. 

Eddie didn't want to add to that, but he wanted to be part of it. He wanted to live through all of it with Evan, be by his side, support him. Eddie might not feel as much as Buck, but he feels the most for his family. For his son, and- and for Evan. 

“I want this,” Buck says. “I want to be with you, Eddie, I want the life that I’ve been imagining with you since I was sixteen. But I can’t do this halfway. I can’t- if we’re going to do this, I need you to be all in with me. I can’t just be friends who… do that. Sometimes.”

He freezes. And Eddie is stupid- so very stupid, because it takes Buck saying that back to him to understand what he’s done. 

"But," Buck says, using his free hand to get his wallet out of his pocket. "I, um. I found this."

Maybe it's the drugs, or just Eddie's general nondescriptness, but it takes him a few seconds to recognize his own handwriting on the folded up sheet- the picture of Christopher and Evan, the one he'd drawn the night after Buck had called him, drunk out of his mind. 

Eddie hadn't wanted Buck to see it before, because he knew that Evan would see right through him. He hopes that Evan knows. He hopes that he knows, that he sees this picture, sees the beauty of their family through Eddie's own damn eyes and knows. 

I'm going to love you for the rest of my life. 

“You were never just that to me,” Eddie says. “I was lying. To both of us.” 

“Oh, Eddie. I always knew you loved me,” Buck says softly. “I could feel it in the way that you saw me- how you figured me out, figured out who I was and what I needed. And the way that you would take care of me, listen to me- how you never made me feel ashamed of who I was as a person. That was love. That was how I wanted to be loved.”

"I can see it," Eddie says. "In everything that you do, Evan. You take care of all of the people around you, you give yourself over like it's the easiest thing in the world and it's not. I'm not blind to that, baby." 

“Loving you is one of the easiest things I’ve ever done,” Buck says. Admits. “Choosing you was the hardest. Love was never our problem. It was all about choice. You weren’t choosing me.”

Eddie knows Buck doesn't remember much about that night- when he had gotten too drunk to remember his own damn name. Eddie had known what Buck was trying to say, even if he hadn't found the words. 

“I was worried because love wasn’t our problem. And I didn’t want to build all of this up- harbor all of this resentment," Buck explains. "When we weren’t in the same place, I could keep choosing you without the reminder that you weren’t choosing me.”

Buck loved him. He loved him, all those years, kept all of those memories safe and soft and sweet, right there with him. 

“Being honest with myself meant that I had to face two things,” Eddie blurts out. “I’m in love with you.”

A pathetic noise breaks out of Buck's throat. It's soft, gentle, eyes falling shut as he squeezes Eddie's hand the slightest bit tighter. 

“You’ve never said that to me before,” Evan says softly. And Eddie's stupid. He's so damn stupid. 

“I’ve always felt it,” Eddie says weakly. His eyes close out of his own accord. He's tired, but he doesn't fucking care. "I don't- I don't know why I never said it." 

"Say it again."

"I love you," Eddie breathes out. Somehow, even truer than it was yesterday. "Do- do you love me, too?"

“I couldn’t help loving you,” Buck says. “I know who you are, Eddie. But I just couldn’t keep choosing you, not when you couldn’t choose me.”

“What changed your mind?” Eddie asks lazily. 

“I don’t know,” Buck says. “You’re choosing me now. I think.” 

"I am," Eddie declares. "I choose you." 

And Evan's face breaks out into a smile, beautiful, happy smile. Eddie likes Buck's smile- how his eyes crinkle up, his whole face lights up, dimples or smile lines or whatever the hell they're called, Eddie doesn't care. It's all Buck, and Eddie loves him. 

“And the second thing?” Buck asks.

“I’ll choose you tomorrow, too,” Eddie says.

Smile lines, happy face, happy Evan smile. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

“Then ask me,” Buck says earnestly. “Ask me.” 

And god, he fucking wants to, but it's unfair. 

“I feel like you’re getting the wrong end of the deal here,” Eddie says. “That’s the saying, right?”

“Something like that.” 

"You've always forgiven me," Eddie says. It's uncomfortable, but he has to make sure. Be sure. "You forgive so easily, Evan, you've got so much love to give. And I love that about you. I admire it about you, but I don't want you to forgive and forget, not if-“

“The only thing I wanted was for us to be happy together,” Buck says. “I don’t see the point in still being angry. Or trying, anyway.”

 "That's all you want?" Eddie asks. "That's enough for you?" 

Buck's thumb trails down his cheek, gently cradles Eddie's head between Buck's gentle fucking hands. 

"We are," Evan says. "Eddie, we are."

He can feel his own stupid face, slipping into its own stupid grin. Lopsided, stupid grin. Eddie's not coordinated enough to get his face to cooperate, and he can't find himself to care. Not when Evan is here. 

“Ask me,” he says again. 

“I’m in love with you.”

Buck is halfway through rolling his eyes when Eddie manages to sit up, pulling him in with his uninjured arm, kissing his pouty mouth. 

“Fine,” he says, practically panting, and Eddie can still be smug about that from his hospital bed. “Even though that wasn’t a question.” 

“What do you want me to ask?” Eddie says. “Have my babies?”

Buck huffs out a laugh, and he’s so fucking beautiful. 

“Will you have my babies?” Eddie asks. “Marry me and have my babies.” 

Evan laughs. "Yeah, okay," he says, kissing his cheek. Lips. The tip of Eddie's nose, which is not fucking fair because Eddie's not nearly coordinated enough to pull that one of. 

“I would, by the way,” Buck whispers. “Marry you.” 

“And have my babies.” 

"Eddie fuckin' Diaz," Evan breathes out. "You are high out of your mind."

"Don't fuckin' care," Eddie says, and his eyes are heavy. So heavy. 

"Sure, baby," Buck laughs. "I'll have your fuckin' babies."

"Good," Eddie says. "F-fuckin' good." 

And... yeah. 

Yeah. 

It's so fuckin' good.

Chapter Text

Eddie hadn't exactly asked Buck to take him home from the hospital, but he wasn't surprised when Buck offered. He was still exhausted and sore, but thanks to a meddling Abuela and Pepita, Eddie hadn’t been able to talk himself out of a welcome home party. 

However, that did mean Buck had a reason to take Eddie back home, getting out of his hospital clothes and ready for the party in Bobby’s backyard. That also meant that Buck and Eddie had a solid two hours together, alone. 

A good excuse, if Eddie ever found one. 

“Be careful!” Buck fusses, and Eddie rolls his eyes as Buck takes the hospital bag from his hands. “You’re going to pop a stitch.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie says. “My arm is fine, Buck. The doctors said it was good for me to get back into light movement."

"Yeah, light," Buck says, all judgy and fretful. "Not carrying your giant hospital bag into the house when you don't have to."

Smiling fondly, Eddie doesn't bother arguing with worried Buck, letting him open the door and put Eddie's things away, even entertaining him as he coaxes Eddie toward the bed, throwing a blanket at him. 

"And you say I'm neurotic," he mutters. Doesn't stop him from taking the glass of water Buck proffers, watching as he opens the curtains, closes them, and then opens them again before messing around with the pillows for, like, at least two entire minutes before Eddie finally has enough. 

"Buck," Eddie groans. "I'm fine."

"You just got shot." 

"And I'm fine," Eddie says. "I'm serious. Evan."

"I know, let me at least unpack your bag before-"

"Look, either you get in this bed or I'm getting out of it," Eddie warns. 

Buck rolls his eyes, dropping the bag on the floor before turning to Eddie, pouting. "But-"

"Hey," Eddie interrupts, reaching for him with his good arm. "Evan." 

Taking his hand, Eddie puts it on his chest, feeling his own pulse through Buck's hand. His pout gets bigger, glaring at Eddie's hand like it's personally offended him. 

"I'm fine," Eddie says. "I'm fine, Evan. Now, will you lay down with me? Please?"

The pout eases up slightly when Eddie shoves him to lay on his back, crawling to lay on him, tucking his nose into Evan's neck, wrapping himself around him.

"You can't fall asleep," Buck says. "We have to be at Pepa's in two hours, and we are not missing it. This is the first time I've managed to bring a genuine partner to a 118 event since Abby. This is the start of a new era. I'm never going to be a third wheel ever again." 

"You brought Tommy to the bar," Eddie says pointedly. 

Buck pauses, looking off into the distance. "Oh, yeah." 

“What happened with Tommy?” Eddie asks sleepily. “You kept dodging the question.”

Evan’s lip quirks up, looking at Eddie, reproachful. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do, actually,” Eddie says. “Tell me.” 

“It was nothing. He was upset with me,” Buck says. “That night at the bar, when I was feeling him up, and he was dirty talking me in front of all of our-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie interrupts, trying to shove down his stupid jealousy. “I remember. We don’t have to relive that.” 

“Are you sure?” Buck teases.

“ Yes .”

“Fine,” Buck says. “Well. He- um. He figured that I was putting on a bit of a show for you, and it was less about him working me up, and much more about you seeing me getting worked up.” 

“You weren’t even worked up,” Eddie says. Tommy was much more concerned about his own pleasure, touching Buck to touch him, not to make him feel good. That was for Tommy. Not even remotely for Evan. “You weren’t- you-”

“I was putting on a show,” Buck shrugs. “And Tommy could tell, so we went home and he roughed me up before breaking up with me." 

Doubtful, Eddie examines Buck's face. Neutral set to it.

"What happened?" Eddie asks. 

Buck sighs, head falling back onto the pillow. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Um.

"Doesn't matter," Buck says. "It was never about him, Eddie. It was always about us, and I shouldn't have brought him into it or tried to make you jealous. A lot of good it did me. I got dumped. Worse, I got dumped after I ruined your night with Ana.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Eddie says, still reeling a bit. “I still went home with her that night.”  

Buck eyes him. “Don’t look so damn tortured about it.” 

“Look. I know I shouldn’t have slept with her,” Eddie says. “I shouldn’t have even dated her, she was just- literally, the woman of my parents’ dreams, but it wouldn’t have been enough. Nothing is, because he’s just kind of miserable.” 

Buck snorts. “I like you with low inhibitions. We should keep you on these meds forever.”

“Actually, it’s been nearly twelve hours since my last dose,” Eddie says. “And the active period is only six hours. So, I’m stone-cold sober.” 

“Really?” he says, surprised.

Something about his tone- it’s not off, necessarily, but Eddie can’t recall saying anything blatantly out of pocket. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says hesitantly. “Did I-”

“No, no, Eddie,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just a little surprised. You’re- um. I was kind of expecting you to start… clamming up a bit, once the meds wore off.”

“What do you mean?”

Buck huffs a little bit, staring deliberately down into his lap, playing with his fingers. 

“Admitting things is always easier when you’ve got lowered inhibitions, Eddie,” Buck says eventually. “And I figured- you weren’t scared because you didn’t have the capacity. I’ve been on narcotics, too, and it’s like you’re in this beautiful dream world where everything makes sense and the world is calm and clear and so much easier to exist in. And I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d come off the drugs, come back to the real world, and you’d get scared again.”

Okay. Be honest. Just let it out. Don't think too hard. 

“Evan, I’m still scared,” Eddie admits. “I'm scared all the time. I was scared when I told you I loved you. I’m a little scared, right now, that I’m not making any sense. But I know that I love you. Right now, I know that I did it. Admitted it to you, chose you, and that means I can keep going. And I- I don’t want to lie to you, Evan, because if I’m being completely honest, then I’m going to tell you I might wake up scared tomorrow, too.”

Buck caresses him gently, eyes falling from Eddie’s own, down to his lips. 

“You were scared,” Buck says. “And you chose me, anyway.”

Eddie’s grateful that Buck doesn't seem to be expecting a response, because Eddie doesn’t really have one. He watches him, feels his steady breathing, consistent heartbeat. No signs of panic. None, at all. 

“If you wake up tomorrow, and you’re scared, I’ll still be here,” Buck says, eventually. “I’m not going to run away. I’m not going to let you be scared alone.” 

Oh. 

“Thought it was time to start being honest,” Eddie murmurs. “To the both of us.” 

Evan smiles, a real, true smile. He runs his hands through Eddie's hair, chewing on his own lip, touching just to feel. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” Evan whispers, nuzzling into Eddie's hands. He trails down Buck's jaw, rubbing gently at his pulse point, feels him swallow right underneath his fingers. 

“Well, you’re stuck with me now,” Buck sighs. “You’ve already agreed to marry me and give me babies.” 

“Mhm,” Eddie says, his eyes falling closed, head falling back onto Buck's chest. “I’d take you to the courthouse tomorrow if you wanted.”

“Were you serious about that?” Buck asks. 

“Yes,” Eddie says. “And if you propose before I do, I’ll be forced to retaliate and buy 1-ply toilet paper for the rest of our lives.”

Snorting, Buck rolls his eyes. “No, I know. You’re going to marry me. I know. I meant the other thing.” 

Eddie pauses before peeling his eyes back open, looking at Buck doubtfully. “Do you have a uterus I don’t know about?”

Rolling his eyes, Buck shoves him lightly. “There are new technologies, you caveman.” 

“I don’t know,” Eddie says honestly. “I- um. I feel like I didn’t have enough time to think about wanting kids before I had Christopher. And after him, I was just trying to keep my head above water. I was barely able to keep Christopher afloat, I couldn’t even think about another one.” 

“And now?” Buck asks. 

Eddie gnaws on his lip. He thinks about his sisters. Thinks about all of the happy memories of his childhood, how they were centered around Adri and Sophia. Tries to remember life before them. Can't.

"I have no idea," Eddie admits. "What about you?"

“Give Christopher a sibling some day?” Buck asks. “I would love that, Eddie, but I’m also completely happy with my life now.” 

And Eddie believes him. He deserves happiness, and he deserves joy, everything that he ever wanted. 

The only thing I wanted was for us to be happy, together. 

“I’ll think about it,” Eddie says. “Promise." 

Gently, Eddie kisses him. Soft, sweet, but he's got Evan under him and he very quickly finds himself wanting more, and he has to remind himself.

It's okay. He's allowed. 

Buck turns his head to the side, just slightly, moving away from Eddie. 

“Evan Buckley, if you’re about to deny me magical healing sex-”

“Show me the science that says that, and then we’ll talk.”

Desperately, Eddie wracks his brain for the tidbits of information that Buck’s talked about. He tries to absorb all of it. Eddie’s hungry for more of Buck, anything that he can get, but Eddie’s only human and he can't remember all of it. 

"Buck. Evan," Eddie pleads, sitting up. "I told you. I'm fine." 

“I don’t want you to exert yourself!” Buck says hysterically. “You-you just got out of the hospital, and we’re going to a party with the rest of our family tonight!”

“I know my limits,” Eddie says. “You can be good for me, can’t you?” 

“Yes,” Evan breathes out. “Yes, I can. Will. I will.” 

“Good,” Eddie coos. "You're going to ride me then, sweetheart. I want to take my time with you. Do you know why?”

Buck’s eyes are caught, roaming down Eddie’s chest, fingers twitching toward his waist. 

“Because,” Evan mumbles. “You’re a control freak.” 

Evan yelps when Eddie pinches him, fingers scrabbling for his hands. 

“No, no,” he whines. “I’m sorry!” 

“It’s because you’re mine,” Eddie corrects. “And I can do whatever I want with you.” 

Buck looks at him, with love, and awe, and wonder in his eyes. Carefully, Eddie runs him thumb along Buck's jaw, checking in. Make sure he's still here, still with him. 

He swallows, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

"I like being yours," he admits, and Eddie groans. Tugging at his pants, Buck helps him get them off before kicking his own off, so sweetly pliant when Eddie sits back against the headboard, tugging Buck to sit on his lap. 

"Gotta open you up," Eddie says quietly. "Going to slick up your hole, sweetheart, get you sitting nice and pretty on my cock."

Buck whines, fumbling for Eddie's bottle of slick. Hadn't come out of the drawer since the last time Buck was here, but he doesn't need to know that. 

Kissing him, Eddie wraps his good arm around Evan's neck, nipping at his lips before moving down to his neck. Buck gasps, fingers shaky when they reach back to open himself up. Eddie wraps his hand around Buck's cock as he whines into Eddie's mouth. Carefully, Eddie starts massaging Evan's chest, thumb gentle on his sweet, sensitive nipples. 

"You're so wet," Eddie says, his own voice shakier than he'd like to admit. "Sweet cock so excited to finally get some attention, isn't it?"

He doesn't respond beyond a broken whimper, and Eddie starts tugging at his cock, his own desperation permeated in the air. His stupid arm with the stupid bullet wound, preventing him from taking Evan apart the way that he wants to. 

Later, he reminds himself.

They've got all the time in the world.

Evan raises himself on his knees, lining himself up before sinking down, eyes falling shut as he takes Eddie in, all the way to the root. He exhales slowly when he bottoms out, forehead touching Eddie's ever so gently, a stray curl flopping onto Eddie's face.

"I love you," Eddie blurts out, and Evan sobs. "I do. I love you."

"L-love you," Evan says. "Please."

"Ride me, baby," Eddie urges. "Come on- on your knees, sweetheart, fuck yourself. Fuck."

Buck falls into a steady rhythm, pushing himself up, sliding back down, clenching. He's so fucking tight, so hot, his heavy cock hanging between them, sorely neglected. Buck can't seem to form real words, too overwhelmed, but he's far from quiet- soft, broken gasps, so fucking desperate, falling apart on Eddie's lap and Eddie loves him. 

Oh, how he loves him. 

Eddie whispers soft praise into Buck's ear, praises him through Eddie's own orgasm, biting down on his own groan. Buck whimpers, can feel Eddie's orgasm, can't hold himself back when Eddie's fingers wrap back around his leaky cock. 

"Good," Eddie breathes out. "That's so good." 

Buck can't quite keep his eyes open. Eddie strains, manages to snatch a towel before cleaning them up, just cursory before he can lay Evan back down and get him in his arms again. Eddie might never let go, especially not when Buck has wrapped himself around Eddie on his uninjured side. 

“You know what I just thought of?” Buck mumbles. 

“What’s that?”

“That was our first time as boyfriends," Buck says. "Or- whatever. In a relationship. Committed."

“I don’t like boyfriends,” Eddie says. “Makes it feel like we’re still in high school.”

"Yeah, me neither," Buck says. "We're more than that. I just don't have a better word." 

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, his stomach warm. “Before too long, we’ll be husbands.”

“And until then?” Buck asks. 

Eddie doesn’t know. 

“Partners,” he says. “Family.” 

"Family," Buck repeats softly, so sweet. 

"I'm in love with you." 

"What a coincidence," Evan says. "I happen to be in love with you, too." 

Family. 

One Year Later ~

Some things change, and some things don't.

They wake up together. They go to work. They have to report their relationship to HR, but since they've been... involved... throughout Eddie's entire career at the LAFD, they've got a pretty good case for them to be allowed to work together.

They submit the paperwork, get the green light. Then they wake up together and work together again. Eventually, Buck's lease comes to an end, and Buck moves in to Eddie's. 

And they're sitting there, around the long table, eating a lasagna that Bobby had made for his own birthday while they're off rotation for about an hour. Maddie and Karen are here too- all of the kids are at school, and this was the only time that they'd been able to all get together, but it's as close to complete their family has gotten in quite a while. 

There's a soft sound, almost like chimes. Soothing, and it’s been a while since they’ve heard it. 

“What is that?” Maddie asks. “Not the tones?” 

“No, it’s not,” Buck explains, dragging Eddie up. “It’s the baby box.” 

Maddie’s brow furrows as they all simultaneously remember the way they reacted the first time someone pointed out the baby box. Buck tries to hide his smirk, winking at Eddie before bounding down the stairs. 

“It’s to encourage safe surrender,” Chimney explains. “We have a little hutch that’s temperature controlled with room for a baby carrier, and the birther can tuck the baby inside and press a button. The button locks the hutch from the outside but we have access, obviously. Keeps baby warm and birther anonymous.” 

“Oh,” Karen says. “That’s really smart, you guys.” 

“Wish we could take credit, but it’s been more commonly used at safe havens all across the west coast,” Bobby says. “But it definitely works. Eddie, are you-“ 

“Yeah, I’m going,” Eddie says, standing up. 

 It’s a sweet little picture. Buck, big, gentle Buck, leaning over a baby carrier. 

“Oh, look at you,” Buck coos, smiling back at Eddie when he gets close enough. “So precious.”

Eddie helps Buck take the carrier out, makes sure not to jostle it. There are two blankets covering up a pretty messy onesie. A little too big to be a newborn- Eddie’s gonna have to examine the poor thing. He braces himself for crying, for injury or illness so terrible the birther had no choice but to surrender, but the baby is quiet. Little snuffles, uncoordinated eye movements- but alive, and healthy enough on the surface. 

Babies have always frightened Eddie a little. They’re so small- so delicate, so fragile. They’re about as wary of him as he is with them. Eddie thinks they can smell it on him. Not the first pick for the dodgeball team, but probably not the last, either. 

Eddie sets the carrier down, starts to examine the baby, check for growth markers when Buck finds a scrap of paper tucked into the side. 

“Girl, 18 weeks,” Buck says. “Huh. So you’re a baby girl, are you?” 

She chooses that moment to babble a little bit, forming a spit bubble, and Eddie can’t help but laugh. 

“That was a good response,” Buck says, shooting a teasing grin at Eddie while he gently wipes the spit with the edge of a blanket. “Don’t listen to Eddie, he just wishes he was as eloquent as you.”

“You hungry, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, as though she could answer him. “I can dig up some formula after we call in.” 

“No, not yet,” Buck says hurriedly. “She deserves some time here before she has to go to a new scary place.” 

Eddie raises a brow, but Buck is already waving him off. 

“I’ll make her the bottle,” Buck says. “We can call the hospital once she’s eaten something.” 

“I can do it.” 

“No, you keep her company,” Buck says. “Your knee is still bothering you.”

Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. “I can handle the steps, Buck-“ 

“I know,” Buck cuts him off. “You can also keep her company.” 

“I don’t want to scare her,” Eddie admits. “I think babies can tell I’m a wreck and I don’t want to freak her out.” 

Buck raises a brow at him before leaning down, carefully picking her up. He takes Eddie’s hand and carefully tucks her into the crook of his arm, and Eddie can feel his eyes widen. Other than Christopher, Eddie historically did not pick up babies unless it was absolutely necessary. He tries not to tense up, and she just keeps looking at him. 

“See, I told you,” Buck says, standing up to go get the bottle. “Eddie’s not so bad. He thinks he’s big and scary, but he’s not.” 

He smiles down at the chubby little lump, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. Her curls are falling in her face, so Eddie pulls her little beanie off, readjusting it. Just as he’s smoothing it out, she turns into him, grabbing his pinkie with all five of her little fingers before yawning, so wide, eyes drooping. She snuffles, wriggling just enough to get herself settled, sighing like Eddie’s arms were the safest place in the world. 

…Oh, fuck. 

“Here’s the bottle,” Buck says. “Want me to feed her?” 

Eddie doesn’t answer. Honestly, he missed a lot of this with Christopher- he went back to Afghanistan less than a month after he was born, and then again after being home barely any longer than the first. Still, though, he remembers how he felt the first time Christopher woke him up instead of Shannon. He remembers Chris laughing, asking Eddie for eggs and bacon. He remembers thinking he would go slaughter a fucking pig if that was what he had to do so he could feed his son. 

“Can I do it?” Eddie asks. “Can you show me?”

Buck’s face softens. 

“Of course,” Buck says. “Here, let me help.” 

Buck sits on the coffee table in front of Eddie, squeezing just a bit of formula onto the back of his hand, offering it to her. And- and she’s so sweet when Eddie offers her the bottle. She was clearly hungry, greedily feeding, and Eddie’s fucking mesmerized. He barely notices the bottle running out until she’s turning away from it. 

“Buck,” Eddie breathes out, watching as her eyes fall shut. “ Buck .”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, voice soft. 

“Look at her,” he says, and he can hear the awe in his voice. 

“She’s beautiful,” Buck says. 

Tearing his eyes away, Eddie looks at him. He has no idea what his face is doing, but he trusts Buck to hear everything he doesn’t know how to say. 

“ Really ?” Buck asks, full of anticipation, grin practically splitting his face open. 

“I think you should take her,” he says, his voice shaking. “Can you take her?” 

“Eddie, you don’t have to-“

“I know,” he says. “I don’t think I can put her down, I need you to take her. I just. I need to know if it’s the same, you know?” 

“Hi, sweet girl,” Buck says, voice soft. He tucks her very gently into the crook of his arm, tickling right under her chin. Gasping playfully, Buck smiles at her, and she laughs to the best of her ability. Eddie figures he can be forgiving. She’s only been alive for sixteen weeks, after all. Laughing is kind of weird. Expelling noise while your face contracts, that’s definitely not something that happens overnight. 

Seeing Buck with this baby, it’s different. 

Before, Christopher was his. This is his son. It’s not the same as it was with Shannon. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to compare it to. He doesn’t remember this sort of feeling, except- except one time. 

Except when he saw Buck picking Christopher up, crutches and all, just so he wouldn’t slip in the bowl of brownie batter they’d accidentally spilled. Buck made a stupid joke and Christopher rolled his eyes, exactly the same way that’s been directed at Eddie a thousand times before, and so much raw, unfiltered joy had torn through Eddie's chest in a crushing wave he hadn't known how to handle. 

Until then, Christopher had been Eddie’s son. Shannon had left them and he was parenting, alone. Eddie had felt alone for so long, and something had shifted without him noticing. He looked at Buck, with Christopher, and he knew family. 

It's nearly nauseating. The way it takes over his whole body, looking at the man he loves with their daughter in his arms. 

Their daughter. 

"She's ours," Eddie says helplessly. He can't explain it beyond that. Can't justify it. "She's ours." 

"Yeah," Buck murmurs. "I think she is, too."