Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It happens like this:

When Evan is thirteen, he breaks his collarbone riding a skateboard down the slope in front of his parents house. It might be his worst fracture –until then– by the pain scale alone, which goes off the chart. Even breathing hurts, and Maddie can’t answer for him this time – he needs his legal guardians, and dad’s on a trip for a state’s school meeting. Maddie has to scream at Margaret for her to drive Evan to the hospital, and when she does, she looks as pale as him.

She doesn’t give any vocal answer to the doctor words –diagnosis, treatment, follow-up care– only nods and grabs Evan’s uninjured arm to drag him outside the hospital when they’re done, incredibly hastily. High off his gourd on analgesics, Evan only thinks, a little deliriously, that it’s the first time he’s seen his mother beside a doctor.

The attending doesn’t want to let him go just yet – he keeps speaking, to Margaret’s annoyance (dripping into dread, almost, not that Evan really gets it), and the doctor has more than one reason for it. He’s looking at Evan’s chart when Margarat keeps a tight grip on his wrist, and his eyes stop where his age must be written down.

“I see here he’s thirteen. He’s started puberty, hasn’t he? Have your family physician already ordered a test to determine–”

“He doesn’t need it,” Margaret cuts him off. Her hair’s more messed up than Evan’s ever seen, and that’s the part of the conversation he pays attention to: his mother’s frizzy hair. That must be where the curls had been hiding.

“Are you sure?” the doctor asks Margaret – at the other side of the world. She makes a noise and starts pulling Evan again.

“I’m sure,” and they leave.

Buck doesn’t think about the conversation; doesn’t really remember it. In the end, his stupid fucking assumption is the same as the doctor’s – that that was never something he had to concern himself with, because his parents must have already had him checked.

Funny, that a childhood in hospitals –for more than one reason– and they never cared enough to actually do it.

–

It happens like this:

After the third date, Tommy boxes Buck against the inside of the loft’s front door. He isn’t taller than him –no one seems to be– but Tommy looms now, in a way that has Buck’s belly going hot in a way he hadn’t really felt since high school. He feels like a virgin. In a way, he is. Wasn’t that the reason they took three fricking dates?

Tommy looks at him. Smirks down. “You wanna do it?”

Buck nods in the little space their heads keep apart. He follows Tommy, hands laced together, upstairs, and trails like a puppy – giggling, blushing, smiling impossibly wide at him.

Tommy walks him through it. All in all, he’s quite patient. And it’s not his fault – when he touches a hand to the back pocket of his jeans, going for protection, it’s Buck who stops him, palm at Tommy’s elbow.

“You sure?”

“Yeah– I’m, I’m clean. If you are too…”

Buck’s fluster –here he goes biting on too much again– gives away to a breezy smile when Tommy starts grinning. He chuckles, and Buck laughs, head falling against Tommy’s shoulder, not even flinching anymore at the feeling of his fingers.

“Okay, cowboy. Shuffle up.”

The condom stays in his pocket for the entirety of their relationship.

–

Buck has a cold, but he has more important things to think of.

Chris moves out on a thursday. Buck moves in on a friday. Eddie breaks down as soon as his parents are out of the driveaway, and Buck does his best to catch the remains of the dam. It’s the worst moment of his life, because it’s Eddie’s –it’s Chris – but he, for the first time ever, won’t make it about himself. He needs to take care of Eddie.

When he’s packing the things off his apartment, Tommy comes in. He doesn’t have a key – Buck just didn’t lock it, bringing boxes down the building, and he hears the door from where he’s crouched in front of the kitchen’s drawers. When he rises to his feet, Tommy’s in the middle of the loft.

“H-hey, Tommy– I’m not sure you’ve seen my text, I, I can’t go on our date today. Maybe for some time– Eddie’s doing r-really bad, and I have to, uh, hold down the fort for a while–”

“I’ve read your text,” Tommy stops him. And he does stop him. Heaving a box of pans, Buck falters on his feet when he actually reads Tommy’s face; the tired resignation on it. Not from a canceled date – something bigger, and wider.

Buck, already with his stomach in knots for over thirty-six hours, discovers that it can afford one more.

“Hey– what’s, what’s, uh, going on?” He puts down the box on top of the first surface he sees, walking around the counter to stand face to face with Tommy. But when Buck gets closer, he steps back – defensive, almost. “Tommy?”

“I don't think this is going to work, Evan.”

Buck has to do a double take.

“Uhm, uh– what?”

Last week, they spent the night together – the way that it began to be a weekly thing, like a sleepover, except with sex. They text when they’re both on break, or off shift. Just some days ago, Buck had dinner with Tommy, despite the fact Bobby had been in the hospital – he didn’t want to cancel, anxious like he usually is about disappointing anyone, but especially someone who matters. This –blowing off Tommy to stay urgently with Eddie– is a first time thing. Buck wouldn’t do it if he hadn't to. He has to.

“You’re so cute, Evan,” Tommy says – and looking apologetically back to Buck, he must mean it. It’s almost a repeat of their first-first date, and as awful to hear as back then. “This is my fault. I’ve bitten more than I should – I knew better.”

“Wait, wait, wait– where’s this coming from?” When Tommy sighs tiredly, Buck has to bite back the urge to shake him like a ragdoll, feeling frustration pick up beside distress. “We were okay yesterday, what could possibly have changed–”

“Nothing did,” Tommy says – but he doesn’t mean it in a positive way.

“Is it about Eddie?” Eddie, who’s alone at home, Eddie, who should not be alone at home. Eddie, who Buck should get back to already, and Buck, for an instant, feels almost a flash of annoyance at Tommy for stringing this on him when he has the worst going on. “Because, man, I’m sorry– but he really needs my help right now, but I swear we’ll go out another time…”

The sentence drifts off – because Tommy is looking at him like that again. Evan, you’re adorable . A sensation of immaturity that was 50/50 on making Buck feel alive or then impossibly small. It’s the latter now.

“You’re a wonderful friend,” Tommy starts in Buck’s silence, sounding –worse than all– tentative. “And I wish you the best. The both of you. But maybe we’re looking for different things.”

Buck lists away – a physical thing.

“I don’t get it,” he croaks. Tommy’s fucking face doesn’t change – if anything, it’s like he’s reaffirmed something.

“It’s always going to be Eddie,” he says cryptically. Except it’s not all cryptid; Buck’s not a fucking idiot, and he gets the suggestion, souring his stomach in what feels like, out of everything, fear. But Tommy’s already walking away again, outside Buck’s living room and Buck’s loft and Buck’s life, not even a last touch for the memory.

“Good luck,” he whispers back to the apartment, before slowly pulling shut the door with himself.

Buck’s left in his apartment. Drawers open, boxes and bags to pack.

It’s harder to do it when he’s tearing up a little bit.

–

“Hey, Bobby – can you see if me and Eddie have sick days left over?”

“Buck, you haven’t taken a sick day in your life.”

“Alright, but has Eddie ?”

The line is quiet for a moment. Buck hears the silence like a funeral march.

“What’s this about?”

He suppresses back a noise; Buck’s not sure if of the tired or sad variety. Only that, speaking, his voice croaks.

“Christopher’s grandparents, uhm, took him back to Texas.”

Bobby gives him only a moment to breathe, before he starts talking –more softly– on the other side of the line. “Okay. What happened? Is there something going on with Eddie – with yourself? Buck?”

He’s sniffling against the back of his wrist. Buck doesn’t have the time for this – Eddie will wake up in an hour, and then he’ll drive him to Frank’s office (his civilian one, not the one kept by the department) a last minute fitting Buck almost had to sell a nut for. But Bobby always calms him; even when he’s making Buck tear up. It’s a long-term thing.

“I can’t, I can’t tell you. It’s E-Eddie’s stuff. But it’s bad, Cap – and I’m really worried about him.” He walks through Eddie’s kitchen towards a table chair, afraid he’ll be listened to –like Eddie’s not comatose two bedrooms away, and so apathetic he won’t complain about a thing. “He won’t leave the bed. Or Christopher’s room. He isn’t even crying anymore – it’s like he isn't even there. And, and– I’m really fucking over my head here, because I’ve never really been in this side–”

“Okay, Buck, take a breath for a moment. Do you need me to come there?”

“No, Eddie won’t like anyone to see him like that.” Buck never did. It would have been more heartwarming to be so easily accepted into Eddie’s arms, if he wasn’t dangling from a metaphorical ledge.

“I don’t need to see Eddie – I just want to make sure you’re okay. Have you called his doctor? Frank?”

“Yeah,” Buck croaks. “I’ve got Eddie an opening at two.”

“That’s great. I’m going to drive you two. And then, while Eddie’s being taken care of, we can take care of you, right?” Bobby’s putting a smile on his voice – like he’s talking to a victim. Buck, still covering up sniffles, isn’t sure if that helps with the weight on his chest or if it just feels worse. “Buck?”

“I-I’m still here.”

“Talk to me.” There’s noises from the other side of the line: clothes rustling, the clanging of keys, and the opening and closing of doors. Of course Bobby’s coming for him – both of them. “Eddie’s in the bedroom, but where are you?”

Buck doesn’t complain, only clearing his teary throat. Didn’t a part of him want the help? “Kitchen.”

“Did you make something for you both to eat?”

“Eddie’s not hungry.” Eddie’s fucking– Buck doesn’t even have the words. He feels about just as crazy. “And I’m not either. I got– uhm. I got a, a stomach bug before coming here, so I’ve only been making Eddie stuff. But he isn’t fucking eating .”

“You both have to. Have you been to the doctor?”

“I didn’t have the time. It doesn’t matter.” He sniffs. “Eddie’s got no one with him.” Christopher won’t take any call, or answer any text, and Eddie’s parents may as well be a tomb. The last Buck had seen his mom’s text history with him, she just said Christopher and us need time right now after a flurry of questions.

“He has you – and me. I’ll get there in a moment. We’ll work through this.” Buck isn’t so sure. But he keeps on the line, holding on to his phone –to Bobby– with a vice grip. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Things are not fucking okay. Eddie doesn’t speak with Buck or Bobby as they drive to Frank’s office, just looking out the window, and Buck is much the same when Bobby drags him to sit on a park bench while Eddie’s in therapy. He hadn’t had the time to cry about any of it, his worry about his friend, now and before, when Eddie was seeing that woman, the sense of failure of not having been able to convince Chris to stay, the grief of Chris going away . He cries on that park bench and Eddie must do the same inside Frank’s office, but it doesn’t change a thing. They’re spent, Eddie specially. Buck doesn’t know what to do.

Monday Bobby goes into the station to see about requesting them leave, but comes back to Buck with a late call, talking about not being the house’s captain anymore, a boogeyman Buck had only heard stories of taking his place, and it’s like a cosmic joke. Okay, you fucking idiot – here’s despair after despair. Buck can’t only dry laugh, until he’s almost dry heaving, and Bobby almost goes to Eddie's place again, but it won’t change a thing either.

After those days, Buck creates a new routine: he gets up early, makes Christopher’s favorite breakfast to guilt Eddie into eating it, and then he drives both of them to work. He keeps Eddie close like he’ll blow away into the wind, and maybe he will. They work with fires. He can’t imagine letting Eddie walk close to death right now, and he’ll keep doing it even if Gerrard gets cute –read disgusting– with it, calling them lovebirds, except with worse words.

What Bobby had been right about is that they aren’t alone. Chim and Hen keep just as close, to Eddie and to Buck. Buck can’t tell them anything about Christopher either, but it doesn’t seem to matter; they care either way. Buck accepts it, though not graciously. If he gets really close to breaking down once or twice on someone’s shoulder, they don’t comment on it. They can’t. Gerrard can’t notice.

Buck hopes work will at least work as a distraction for Eddie, and it’s funny, because in a way Eddie works as a distraction for him . Buck doesn’t think about Tommy, or even tells anyone that they’ve broken up for the longest time. He doesn’t even think about feeling sick like a dog, mostly because he actually thinks that’s all from Chris leaving.

–

It’s nine weeks after everything that Buck allows himself to take a breath – if that. The moment isn’t of rest as much as someone almost choking. Buck would know the difference.

It starts with a small improvement: Chris texts. One day he answers Eddie with stop , and Buck with get dad to back off , which is actually an improvement after Buck has driven Eddie to another emergency sitting down with Frank. Chris isn’t ignoring them anymore, and Eddie can actually make requirements: that he’ll give Chris space if his grandparents actually start talking.

And so they have a bridge. Eddie calls his mom every day, morning and night, to know about Chris, how he’s doing, what he’s eating, where he’s studying, who he’s talking to, and he eventually gets to directly exchange an actual word or two with his own son, if through his mom’s phone. Buck doesn’t actually get anything. Which is fine. This is about Eddie.

He goes to the doctor, first in foremost, because, though Eddie’s getting better – not a huge bar. He gets through the days, because he wants to hear more about Chris. Buck doesn’t actually receive any improvement.

They’re answering to a house fire. They’ve become Buck’s least favorite because of Eddie, after everything – seeing him close to danger, and having to let him stray further from his side through it. Gerrard doesn’t help, never does, and is all Buck can do to actually pay attention to his job, more anxious at work since Devon.

This time Eddie’s not the trouble, though. He’s doing better. Buck has to start believing he’s doing better, under Frank’s actual words – “Eddie has to trust he is still himself, to know he can get back to Chris,” – and when Gerrard orders them to search through opposite sides of the house through the radio, Buck lets him go after a held breath, sharing a look with Eddie.

“I’ll be right behind you outside!” Eddie shouts over the inferno, offering a fist –a promise– to Buck, and breathing out shakily, he answers it with his own.

“I’ll be waiting for you!” Buck waits for Eddie to nod before doing the same, and then –still unsure– he takes off. He still looks back, seeing Eddie disappear behind a wall on fire, before getting back to his own search, thinking be okay, be okay, be okay .

Buck’s side of the house –east– is alright. There’s two people missing, the house’s father and younger son, and the people working the hoses outside eventually find the man, laying down beside the house after jumping from a window – a last resort. He’ll live, and Buck’s got to go. The flames crackle so loudly around him –a house built on dangerous material– it’s hard to read the radio. But he eventually hears the words he’s waiting for, “ Diaz here! I’ve found the boy – bringing him out! ”, and Buck exhales.

A piece of the ceiling falls in front of his face, and he hurries up again, retracing his steps to the front of the house. It’s not big, but, falling apart, it’s become a labyrinth, even more from during Buck’s first way through. Half of the corridor is broken apart, a side of charred drywall hanging down like an impromptu rabbit's nest, and Buck has to curl down on himself to walk through it, as hurried as he can.

“ Buckley !” comes Gerrard’s nasty fucking voice – not worried, just aggrieved as he perpetually seems to be. “ Where are you? Move your ass outside now ! ”

Buck huffs through the exertion, shouting back a half-answer through the radio, but when he goes to straight back up after the impaired hallway–

It’s like his vision tilts–

He only barely holds himself from falling, catching his weight on the first thing he can find upright – something indiscernible in the fire, and hot enough Buck’s hands singe even through his protective gloves. Buck’s words had fallen off with his vertigo, radio still on, and his next noise is one of pain, feeling the burn, and Eddie shouts through the radio for him.

“ Buck! ”

It takes a lot of blinking to get his vision back on track. Buck’s nausea, ebbing for more than a month, more than two , makes such a sudden reappearance, he’s almost sure he’ll keel inside his mask and asphyxiate for real, but Buck makes himself keep moving. Through the falling house and through his ailing body –he promised too– until the heat gives away to fresh air, and there’s a pair of hands grabbing his weight.

“Buck!” Eddie repeats, in the flesh now, out of his helmet and mask, and face and hair all sweaty, patting through Buck’s body for injury or just assurance. It’s a more lively look than Buck has been recently afforded, and he feels his eyes –embarrassingly– tingle. “Hey, hey – are you hurt?”

“Are you stupid ?” Gerrard comes from behind Eddie. Buck almost thinks he’ll shove him away, get Buck’s front view so he can start spouting shit, but Eddie –scowling back to him more heatedly than the flames– keeps his place. “What was that hold up? Is this your first house fire, your imbecile–”

This is hardly the place for a dress down. It’s never stopped Gerrad before, though. With a crowd of people out in the street, the fire going behind them, still fighting against the hose’s stream of water –all those firefighters, too– Buck sets on his feet to be screamed at by Gerrard. He can barely care; because his head’s still not all there, from adrenaline and still dizziness, but especially because Eddie’s still holding him up.

“You’re going to be man behind on the next call. See if you’re actually a man through it. Diaz – let him go.”

Gerrard stalks back to the truck. Eddie, defiantly, doesn’t move an inch away from Buck, and he glares at Gerrard’s back the whole way, until he has enough distance to look back at Buck – as worried as before.

Vaguely, Buck can see Hen’s shape come from behind Eddie’s shoulder. Mostly, he just focuses on his eyes – all black, and round, against the light from the fire.

“Hey–” Eddie repeats. From his tone of voice, he must have been doing it for some time. “Are you okay? Buck?”

Hen sets herself beside his shoulder. Buck blinks slowly – dazedly.

“‘think I might be concussed.”

“Did something fall on your head?” Hen begins her assessment at once. Not for one moment does Eddie step back from Buck.

“‘dunno. But I’m– dizzy. Nauseous.”

Eddie doesn’t mask his worry. It settles comfortably on Buck’s stomach. Eddie’s emoting – Eddie’s feeling something. It hardly matters what Buck’s feeling is awful.

“Come on,” Eddie tells him quietly. He pats Buck once more, and squeezes him in a side hug before helping him walk back to the truck, Hen on Buck’s other side. Eddie doesn’t let go of him.

Hen checks him up in the firehouse. When Gerrard skulks away to his office –he’s not big on communal time– it’s the time they have to actually check on each other, and talk. Chim’s worried when he hears Buck got sick in the middle of the call, but they can’t all stay in the ambulance wing, too close to the captain’s office, or Gerrard will complain they’re having a tea party. Hen gets Chim to go to the bunks, and Chim gets Eddie –still looking like that at Buck– to come with him. Alone, Hen sits Buck on a gurney and checks him.

“You’ve been feeling sick all this time and told no one ?” is the first thing she says when he mentions the stomach bug-slash-flu that had been holding on to his ankle, on and off, for the last months. Buck is too tired to look chastised.

“I had to focus on Eddie.”

Hen shakes her head at him. She looks resigned more than anything. “Have you ever heard that thing about oxygen masks and planes?”

“I have never got on a plane.”

“How did you get to Peru.”

“There was a…travelling bus– anyway–” Buck can’t shake his head, and the tangent away, without puking, but he does his best to blink back to the matter at hand. “What’s going on with me? Is my blood pressure alright?”

“It’s…weird, but not off the safe range.” Hen takes his arm cuff off with a thoughtful look. “If I ask you to get your blood drawn, will you do it? If you’ve been having on and off nausea for so long, and eating close to nothing, I’m really worried about your chart. You have too much muscle, Buck.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not joking,” Hen chastises. “Muscle breakdown, which is going to happen if you’re not getting your calories, is going to build up a lot of toxins on your body. You can be at risk of kidney and heart damage – and with your cardiovascular history…” Hen shakes her head. “I’ll find you antihistamines and something to eat, and then I’m driving you to the doctor after our shift.”

“Wait, Hen, no. I can’t leave Eddie alone.”

“ Buck .” Hen over-enunciates every syllable – more chastising, harried , than before. Buck gets it, he does, but… “No,” Hen shuts him down. “Look. We can ask someone to stay with Eddie – I know you’re worried about him, we all are – but someone needs to drive you to the doctor. Almost fainting is not a good sign.”

Buck thins his lips. “I didn't almost faint… ”

But Hen is still shaking her head.

“Doctor,” she repeats. With her face that closed off, Buck gets the idea that’s not something she’ll let go. Hen almost looks like Maddie does every time she makes Buck do something – most of the time, to go to the doctor, actually. “You pick who’s driving you – but someone is.”

Buck worries at the inside of his cheek.

But if he’ll have to do it…

“Eddie,” he tells Hen. Two birds with one stone. She sighs, deeply – but she puts down the blood pressure cuff.

–

Having Eddie drive Buck down to the doctor doesn’t exactly reassure him, but Buck tries to focus on the fact he’s giving Eddie something to do. That was mostly what had been doing him good, with Christopher’s absence – keeping distracted and bettering himself, not that Buck ever thought that Eddie had to be better. Feel better, maybe. He hopes that’s what all signs are pointing to; even if Eddie does look worried now.

It’s good to see light in his eyes.

“You’re still nauseous? The drive’s not being too bumpy?” Eddie checks with him, more than once. Even if Buck’s words are the same.

“Hen helped with that. You’re alright, Eds.”

Eddie nods – more to himself – but Buck knows that won’t be the last time he’ll be asking him.

Late now, after the end of shift, the waiting room of the emergency isn't that full, at least. They sit down to wait on Buck’s name after admittance, and it’s at least time to keep their knees knocked together, a mutual sort of reassurance. After this, Buck’s will get Eddie to eat something hearty at home. He’ll ride this wave for as long as Eddie keeps on it.

Buck eventually gets called, and he and Eddie part ways with a last look.

“You’ll stay here?” Buck asks him.

“Always.”

Buck goes inside the doctor’s office.

He’s seen by a nurse. His case isn’t immediately serious, unless something really does show on his blood work, and Buck gets his blood taken and then dragged to labs.

He’s told to wait. Buck does it back in the waiting room, more time to be with Eddie –only two minutes at most of distance– and he does so gladly, barely worried about himself.

He really has been treating his body like shit recently. Buck has the consciousness to be slightly regretful of that –if not about his reasons– but he’s sure it’s nothing taking a little more care for a week won’t fix up. At most, some supplements. It doesn’t have to be anything serious.

Eventually the same nurse that called his name the first time does it again, leading him back to another office. This time, there’s a doctor there.

Buck doesn’t think that’s a good sign.

“Mister…Buckley,” the old woman reads from his entrance form. She throws Buck a cursory look – seeming serious. Seeming –almost– troubled.

Oh no.

“Is it cancer?” he blurts out, thinking of childhood leukemia and if that’s something tells something about a family history of cancer, even into adulthood. Shit. Shit . This is bad – this is bad . Right now ?

But the doctor, after a slow blink, doesn’t look any different.

“No. It’s not cancer, Mr. Buckley.” She motions a hand to the chair parked in front of her desk. The nurse, Buck notices, never leaves the room’s door. “I really think you should sit down.”

Around 1,7% of the global population is estimated to have secondary sexual characteristics. It's a very tiny number, until Buck thinks about the fact that's actually thousands of people. He's heard of it, of course: one, because his school wasn't that bad, and two, because he's a certified EMT. It’s not a straight foward thing, because it works as an spectrum, but he’s heard of the cases of dual fertility. He hears of one now, feeling delirious, almost, because the doctor’s talking about him .

“You’re kidding.” She has to. She has to. Buck looks helplessly between the doctor and the nurse –both women, he notices– and is stared dow by walls of seriousness. He still repeats himself. “You have to be kidding. I can’t– I can’t .”

“Your blood work is pretty clear on that remark. Your HCG levels are quite high. It’s the same hormone checked for in the urine by at home pregnancy tests–”

“Don’t say that ,” Buck interrupts her, more rude than he’d ever want to be. He sees his hands shake. He can barely feel it. He can barely feel it as his own hands shaking.

“It’s alright, Mr. Buckley. Let's take a minute. I know this might come as a shock–”

Buck knows shocks – this is worse .

“This isn’t a new development on your body. You’ve always had the necessary parts – the hormonal balance. This–” the doctor taps his HCG counts on his blood test, “is the only new thing.”

“How– how didn’t I know, then?”

“Male children are usually tested for the carrier gene around twelve and sixteen – during puberty. Some present with dual sexual dysmorphism, but not all – for that reason family GPs advise on it for everyone. Didn’t your parents ever bring you to the doctor for this?”

It’s a despairing sort of defeat that has Buck letting down his head until his face is hidden on the inside of his hands. Shaking his head on his shaking hands.

“My parents didn’t like doctors,” he croaks. He can’t see the doctor – he still feels the pity.

“I’m sorry.” She seems genuine – less stiff than from the rest of the consult.

It doesn’t change a thing.

“There’s different exams I’d advise you to take now, in adulthood, to learn the extent of your sexual anatomy. In the event of impregnation, that’s especially true, as your doctor and you will need to know that to know your next steps.”

She keeps fucking talking . The world keeps moving. Not for the first time in the last few months, Buck wants to scream, can’t you give me a moment? It echoes like a plea – please, give me one. Please.

His voice sounds run through asphalt the next time he forces it to leave his throat. “What next steps?”

“Keeping the pregnancy,” she says. “Or termination.”

–

Buck’s face is red and blotchy when he gets out of the doctors office, feeling a moment away from hyperventilation. Eddie, when he stops him, stiffens visibly – such a clear dread on his face, beside concern, that Buck does almost start to sob in public.

He’s already on his feet when Buck gets to him, but neither take the next step. Buck is immediately shaking his head at Eddie.

“Buck– what–”

“Please,” Buck stops him. And his voice does do it – so broken with, Eddie’s eyes grow impossibly wider. “Can we– can we just go home?”

Eddies walks him back to the car, and drives him back to his house. Buck pretends to sleep.

–

As soon as they’re home, Buck locks himself in the bathroom

He’s the first through the front door. He rushes past Eddie, and only doesn’t shoulder-checks him because Buck –visibly– moves around every touch, an inch apart from Eddie like his skin would burn on contact. Eddie only gets to see his back disappear into the hallway, and then hear the closing sound of the bathroom door.

Eddie’s worried – has been worried, ever since the house fire, but the concern ballooned exponentially after the doctor visit and Buck’s lack of words. His house is quiet –for a while, since – and that doesn’t help with Eddie’s anxiety either. He can hear every one of his thoughts, flashing like a police-cruiser’s light, an alarm in every form.

Something’s wrong. The feeling latches uncomfortably in Eddie’s stomach, leaving a sort of anxiety that’s all dread, as awful as stomach acid. Very little has been right with Eddie, recently, but if his life has blown up by his own hands, Buck remained the only steady thing in it. Seeing him like that –being presented with the vague notion of something scaring the steadiness out of Buck– is worse than a shower of ice. Eddie feels sick to his stomach.

The night is quiet; there’s only a neighbour's dog occasionally barking from two streets away, and in the surrounding silence, Eddie can hear all of Buck’s, coming from the bathroom. He’s not making a noise. Despite how red his face had looked leaving the doctor’s office, Buck doesn't sound to even be crying anymore.

Eddie keeps standing in the middle of the living room for as long as he can, but it doesn’t end up being too long at all, before he follows Buck to outside the bathroom. Refusing to meet Eddie’s eyes in the car, then to be with him at home, Buck has shown enough what he wants, but Eddie can’t give it to him. He cares too much.

“Buck,” Eddie calls from the other side of the bathroom door. His heart is beating fast against his ear even after thirty minutes of driving. It keeps beating fast, the longer Buck goes without speaking with him. “Buck?”

He keeps hearing nothing from the other side. Lips thinned, Eddie has to make a decision, taking or giving space, and he hopes that, for once, he’s doing something right when he goes to try the bathroom’s knob.

“Buck, I’m coming in,” Eddie keeps his voice soft. Buck still doesn’t answer.

He’s not hiding – Eddie, upon opening the door, sees him immediately: sitting on top of the closed toilet seat, curved miserably into himself. Buck’s elbows are on his knees, and his face is on his hands, obscured further with how his shoulders are curled on himself. His back is shaking. He’s not making a noise, but he’s crying again.

“ Buck. ” Eddie doesn’t take time to kneel in front of where he’s sitting, even if maybe he should. He’s more afraid for Buck than of touching him, and he puts both of his hands on Buck’s knees, curling around his trembling elbows as Eddie cradles. “Hey, hey. Talk with me. What’s–what did the doctor say?”

The reminder only makes Buck tremble harder. He’s shaking his head from the inside of his hands, Eddie doesn’t know if at himself or at the world, but what he does is that he’s fucking terrified.

“Buck,” his voice breaks. “You’re scaring me.”

He still won’t look back at Eddie, but Buck’s first outward breath quivers out of his chest, teary like a sob. “I– uhm. The, the doctor. She said…”

Eddie can’t keep the horror off his voice or his face. “You’re dying?”

But Buck’s shaking his head again, more directly this time. It’s a relief –Eddie can’t imagine a life without him– but not a full one when he still looks like that.

“What did the doctor say then?” Whatever else, it can’t be worse than a world without Evan Buckley. Eddie cups his elbows, then his forearms, hands reaching further through Buck’s arms with a careful, worried touch, and they only stop after Buck’s own hands, curling over them with what Eddie hopes is comfort. “Whatever it was– whatever she said –I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

Buck lets go of his face only enough to peer back at Eddie, but he doesn’t look any more reassured. Buck’s scared – from the frown on his brow to the wide shape of his swimming eyes, red from before and now, still dripping tears.

There’s a paper bunched up in one of Buck’s hands, hidden in a fist, and though Buck doesn’t give it to Eddie, when he looks at it –and back to Buck, in question– Buck, still trembling through his quiet crying, allows it to be picked up by Eddie. He doesn’t hide back again, but it’s a close thing. Buck keeps shaking against the hand that Eddie keeps on one of his cheeks.

He opens up the paper with the other. Despite Buck’s reassurance, Eddie still fears the first thing he’ll see is a death sentence: another person to bury, and carry the absence. Will he see another look-alike in a store and find a new way to ruin what’s left of his life? But there isn’t anything like that – the paper is just a blood review and the request for a physical. Eddie frowns at it, barely comprehending, until he’s skimmed the text properly, feeling his face furrow along with the continuous shake of Buck’s body.

“Your HCG count is high.” Eddie murmurs it almost to himself. In the bottom of the page there’s vague terms – patients presents previously unaccounted nondimorphic sexual development … follow-up with internal exam and specialized care …– but all Eddie cares about is looking at Buck, face to face, and seeing the anxiety on him. “Buck?” Eddie croaks.

“It’s probably good I took so long to realize I’m bisexual, huh?” he tries to joke, masking a thin smile. It falls flat with how the upper half of Buck’s face still won’t stop looking so miserable. “Or– or we’d both be t-teen dads.”

The joke won’t hold. Another tear slides across Buck’s cheek, closest to Eddie’s hold, and he makes a soft, sad sound when Buck’s lip wobbles again. “Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie wraps both his arms around him before he can sniffle another time. The paper slips from his hand, and Eddie allows it – gathering Buck, still sitting higher up, in his hold. Against Eddie, Buck finally allows himself to make noise.

–

It’s an inversion of the most recent times, the night and the morning. Now, Eddie’s the one to lead Buck to bed, let him down genly over the mattress and wash his face with a warm towel as he lies curled on himself. Buck doesn’t sob, just cries, silent and only not soft for the rattle of his shoulders, but Eddie keeps an arm around him all the same, waiting for the moment Buck will feel well enough to talk.

They haven’t shared the bed since the first nights Buck convinced Eddie to sleep back in his own bedroom, but they do it again this time; it doesn’t feel any different in trust. Eddie hardly sleeps, and he’s glad it’s the start of the weekend, because he can’t imagine dragging himself and Buck to work and having to deal with Gerrard on top of everything. There’s very few times Buck has preferred to not go into the station even under the asshole’s captaincy, but now it has to be one. Eddie would put his foot down on it.

He has to be careful to get out of bed without stirring Buck, and quick enough not to wake him with his absence, but when Eddie comes back again with a glass of water, medicine and a packet of crackers, Buck’s eyes are still closed. Eddie’s the one to get them to open, brushing his fingers through Buck’s hair until he’s blinking sluggishly awake.

“Hey,” he greets. Buck’s eyes are still slightly red. The chance of a killer headache is high, but mostly, Buck just looks exhausted, despite having just been sleeping.

“Hey,” he croaks back. Eddie offers him the glass of water, no pills for now, and insists when Buck just takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Come on. You need to hydrate yourself. I brought meds.” The anti-nausea pills Hen found Buck and an analgesic for his head, if he needed the latter. The help for the nausea is probably a non-question if Eddie’s going to get Buck to eat.

But Buck’s shaking his head, even if Eddie isn’t showing him the medicine yet. “‘Can’t have ‘em.” He turns on his back, breathing heavily.

“What do you mean?”

“Eddie.” Buck stares at him unimpressed, eyes squinted against– the discomfort of his body, the light or the conversation, take your pick. Eddie could guess any one.

He hopes his own head tilt is more reassuring. “I can read the label if their prescription is ill-advised for,” Eddie slows at Buck’s crooked mouth, “...gestation.”

With his eyes squeezed closed, Buck breathes slowly from his nose. Eddie feels his own soften – he lets the matter drop alongside his hand, resting gingerly over Buck’s arm.

“Will you still drink the water? You’re probably dehydrated from last night.”

Buck nods lightly at that, at least. “Okay.”

It’s hard for Eddie not to watch him, even just sitting up against the headboard, working slowly through a full glass of water. He feels stupid – not exactly a new realization, but with a further development now.

Eddie knew, in a vague way, that Buck had been feeling sick. Not a last-week thing, but for the previous months . Like something out of a past life –which it kind of was– he remembered that, the week before Chris ran from him, Buck had asked Chim if Jee was sick, because he felt a little under the weather after visiting them the previous night. It had been funny –Chim said Buck was trying to accuse his infant daughter, and Buck sputtered– but a week later Eddie hadn’t cared about a thing beside his son’s absence. And now here they are.

Buck knows Eddie’s watching him. Almost self-defensively, he curls slightly around his stomach –trying to hide it– still holding gingerly to the glass of water. It’s unneeded, when Buck doesn’t look any different. If anything, from the past months –ran ragged by Gerrard, and by taking care of Eddie, all without accounting the persistent nausea and lack of appetite– he must have lost weight.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like–like that. I dunno.” Buck abandons the glass to the nightstand by his side of the bed. He looks away, and doesn’t return his eyes. “Just…don’t look at me.”

Eddie turns his head too, if only slightly. “Okay.” When he hears Buck sniff again –dry, for now– Eddie squeezes at his shoulder softly.

He gives him a minute of silence, before speaking again.

“It makes sense, in a way. Your symptoms,” Eddie adds last, when he feels Buck glance at him questioningly. He follows before it can turn into accusation. “Not– not the other thing. But that you’re…carrying. You’ve been feeling sick for a while. I’m sorry I didn’t notice anything sooner.”

“Not your fault.” Buck sniffs again. “I’m the one supposed to feel dumb. Th-that I didn’t have a clue at, at either thing. I should have…I don’t know, done a full body check-up when I left Hershey. I knew I couldn’t trust my parents.”

“Hey. That’s on them, not you.”

“But it’s my problem now. Evidently.”

Eddie isn’t sure if it’s the time to ask – if there’s a time – but he supposes this is the closest opening he’ll get.

“Do you know what you want to do?” he keeps his voice low – soft. Whichever answer Buck gives him, Eddie has his back – like he promised, all those years ago. Like Buck has had Eddie’s, to his own obvious detriment. “It’s Tommy’s, right?” They’d broken up –Buck never said, but Eddie wasn’t that catatonic– and the time checks out. “Do you want to tell him? For the termination fee, if nothing else.”

“Man, I have no idea what I want. I feel– I feel a little dirty. Used. I dunno. And it’s not the– it’s not its fault, or Tommy’s. I just feel betrayed by my parents again. It’s like my body keeps being theirs, or something.”

“It isn’t .” Buck shakes his head through Eddie’s words, but Eddie keeps going – desperate, almost, for Buck to listen. “You’re the one that gets to choose how this goes. You know you’ll have me either way–”

“Eddie–”

“You know you have people behind you, actual family – you’re not going to be alone. Your decision–”

“I don’t got a fucking decision!” Buck snaps. His eyes are red, and shouting, it's almost enough to mistake it only for anger. “I don’t know what to choose! Your highschool girlfriend got pregnant by accident – how did you feel then? How did Shannon?”

Eddie’s breath stutters going into his lungs. The sound, cracking, makes all of Buck’s sag from his chest.

He looks away. “Sorry,” Buck mumbles, voice tiny. With his sagging shoulder, Buck’s whole body falls without weight against Eddie’s bed. He sniffles again. “‘m sorry.”

Eddie couldn’t be angry at him if he tried.

“‘s okay.” He brings Buck close again, shoulder to opposite shoulder, knee to opposite knee, temple to opposite temple. Buck lets him, and Eddie holds him –loosely but securely– squeezing once to settle Buck in his arms. It would be hard, either way –angry or not– to keep feeling the coldness in his stomach at any thought of Shannon, when being close to Buck, even in misery, makes Eddie so warm. “It’s alright.”

Eddie shares the hold, and the silence, with Buck. With the side of their faces pressed together, he can't see if Buck's tears ended up dripping down his waterline again and if the crying restarted. Eddie just gets to hear Buck's quiet sniffles, subdued – he's not sure if only because Buck is keeping them in.

His breathing has gone wet again, and Eddie listens to it for some time, allowing Buck that silence – to think, or to just not speak, do his best not to think too (if he can even not do that). His worry hasn't gone away though, nor the obvious things they have to do, if Eddie's going to take care of Buck, and he has to know what shape that help is going to take.

“Tell me what’s in your head.” His voice is soft enough to miss. Eddie knows Buck won't, not with their proximity. With the hand that keeps brushing through Buck's hair, Eddie hopes Buck won't just ignore him either.

“Lucas.”

It's an unexpected answer. Eddie has to do a mental double take – a name, so far back, after everything, and already so distant, he almost didn’t remember. It’s– Buck’s kid. Donor  kid. So much has gone now in what was barely more than a year, it's almost crazy to think that's something that happened, not even that long ago. Buck fathering a baby, to help with his old roommate, a thing and a child that Eddie very carefully never commented about. Buck never did either.

“It’s, uhm, weird to think about, r-right?” Buck continues in just as quiet a voice, sniffles and rattled breaths dispersed throughout. “That I, I could father kids both ways? It’s weird in general. I, uhm. I can’t–wrap my head around it.”

It's not what Eddie finds weird in that whole story. He doesn't comment on it though –Buck already has guilt enough about it– and he just urges him on, whispering back softly, “That’s why you’re thinking of him?”

Eddie has a clue it isn’t. He still waits for the hesitant moment that Buck shakes his head no, pressed against his shoulder.

“I didn’t get to keep him,” Buck says –confesses– simply. Grieving. And maybe it is that simple.

Eddie keeps holding him.

Chapter Text

They have to schedule a doctor visit, something specialized now, that just going to the emergency doesn't cut. If actually knowing what they’re looking for helps –well; explains, at least– then it also complicates things, because neither Buck nor Eddie have contact with a gynecologist.

Buck remains as mum and closed as before, and Eddie takes up this responsibility too. In a way, he's the more experienced of the two. He knows at least half the next steps for this kind of thing. Pregnancy blood tests tried for the same thing as those store-bought ones did with urine, and doctors typically called for ultrasounds for final confirmation.

When they were nineteen, Shannon brought hers from a pharmacy, and called Eddie in tears from its bathroom. They had to talk with her mom –Eddie's certainly would be of no help in that department, and when she eventually got the news she freaked out just as expected– and Janet was the one that found Shan the appointment at an imaging clinic.

She found out she was pregnant later than –Eddie still isn’t used to saying it– Buck. Shannon had tried to ignore things until she couldn't anymore, and by then, she had an outside ultrasound, like they did in the movies. Buck won't be able to have one of those though. Which brings up the next problem.

The blood panel called for a physical exam – not for the pregnancy, per say, but to better understand Buck's anatomy. They would have to, well – look down there. They certainly will have to, to do an interior ultrasound, but they need to check that first. It's a double invasion, Eddie wants to say – Buck still won't even look again at the paper from the blood draw.

He, clearly, isn't sure about what to do next. Eddie, as used as he is to hold up half of Buck, can't choose this for him now. Either way, after their conversation, Eddie has an idea about what Buck's leaning towards, but Eddie can't be sure until he tells him – and Buck still isn't sure himself.

His eyes keep glazing over, like he's on an entirely different planet, and when Eddie finally gets Buck to the kitchen to eat his shitty eggs –trying to find a doctor's appointment while Buck feeds himself– he's got to call Buck back into attention.

“Hey.” Buck blinks, and he's awake again – for now. Eddie catches his gaze, and holds it with what he hopes is reassurance, forgetting his phone for a moment. “You don't have to think about anything right now, okay? Let's confirm the blood test first.”

Calling that is as vague as Eddie can. For now, that's just what it is – a blood test. And the next thing is going to be a physical, and then an ultrasound. That's all it is; that's all it has to be, for now.

Buck nods back to Eddie, a little shakely, turning back to his plate, though he still doesn't pick up the fork. Eddie watches him for a moment, before picking back the phone.

–

They get an appointment for the same day after a lot of begging from Eddie and rescheduling in the part of the desk person that picks up his call. Since they are still working with the possibility of an abortion, the woman gives them the deserved haste, and in the end Eddie's looking at dragging Buck out of the house in the early afternoon.

He's putty in his hands – it leaves Eddie with no lack of worry, but for now he takes Buck's dependence to use it for his good, leading Buck through the motions. Buck eats, brushes his teeth, almost throws up (Eddie doesn't know if only from nerves) and naps in the bed again, Eddie carding his fingers through Buck's hair. He pays attention to the hour; Eddie makes Buck eat some more saltines during lunch time, takes some for himself and in total, five hours later they're in traffic, Eddie driving Buck for another clinic, another doctor.

Eddie isn't supposed to go with him for the brief physical Buck's afforded before the interior exam, obviously. He'll have to get naked and wash his dirty sheets, so to say, with the doctor, talking about any signs he's had during his puberty, and later in his life. Even then, when Buck's name gets called, he grabs Eddie's hand tight, threatening to not let go.

“I can wait outside the doctor’s office,” Eddie suggests. It doesn't sound half as strong as he wants, and Buck keeps holding to his wrist, but his eyes are getting lost again.

“The, uhm– the, sonography–”

“I promise I'll be with you during that,” Eddie immediately assures him, sure and fierce about this one, at least. Those allow partners, don't they? – Eddie is Buck's, even if not in the way the hospital usually waits for.

That gets Buck to let go of his wrist, still shaky and uncertain. He doesn't look at Eddie as he goes –maybe scared of looking back and not being able to still leave– but Eddie doesn't stop watching him until he can't, Buck disappearing after the curve of a hallway.

It's only when he's alone that Eddie lets out his breath, feeling it sag through the entirety of his body.

Jesus Christ .

He's right that anything is better than Buck being diagnosed close to death –Eddie will learn to live with anything else, but he can't even conceptualize that . It's still part of the reason he's so afraid of taking his eyes off Buck though. Buck looks like Eddie did, at the start of only two months ago – and Eddie knows what stuff had been going through his head. He can't leave Buck alone – even if there's a chance that he's maybe just being paranoid. Thing is, Eddie doesn't know . He doesn't know.

It's bone-deep fear that grips his whole body. But he can't show it, either. When you answer an emergency, the patient reads your emotions, and Eddie can't afford for Buck to end up reading how scared he is. Instead, he only affords himself this instant.

Eddie takes a deep, rattling breath, and curves himself over his knees, not so differently than how Buck had looked like, hiding in the bathroom last night. Eddie uses the technique for boxed breathing he learned in therapy four disasters ago, and counts his breaths for the time he's allowed himself. Then, he takes one last inhale and sits up straight again.

It isn't long before Buck comes back to the waiting room. He'll have to wait to be called again, for the sonogram. The ultrasound. Sonogram sounds more vague – there's a thousand types of ultrasounds, but whenever Eddie hears the world he thinks of holding Shannon's hand when they were teenagers, and that image must be the same Buck is also avoiding. Eddie picks up his hand when Buck sits by his side, wrapping it inside his, and he starts brushing his thumb over Buck's pulse point. Buck doesn't tell him anything from his exam, or the one that's going to follow. Eddie matches the silence.

It may take thirty minutes or thirty years, but Buck's name gets eventually called again. Whichever way the physical exam had gone, Buck must have the necessary bits for the internal wand – of course. He had enough for the fetus. He's called into the room with the imaging technician, and Eddie comes with him this time, no word in questioning or argument. No nurse tries telling him off, anyway. Eddie lets them think whatever they want about him going inside with Buck.

Eddie can feel his nerves even just through their hand holding. Buck lets go, to dress himself in those hospital gowns and Eddie goes to sit by the laid-back chair Buck will get up on. He grabs his hand again as soon as Buck comes back with the new dress, and Eddie tries passing him calm thoughts by palm alone.

The medical personnel is very kind – Eddie and Buck have that thing going for them, at least. Buck's easy to read, especially when he's like this , and everyone must know this wasn't planned, or even generally known . The technician explains every move before they've done it, and when the wand goes inside –Buck's hand clenching against Eddie's– Eddie knows they're trying to be careful about it.

The machine's monitor is turned away from them. They do that, in abortion's clinics. It must be the same intent. Buck keeps looking at the ceiling, deep breaths easy to see, and Eddie keeps looking at Buck. The technician's eyes are steady on the screen.

Their voice is soft when they confirm, “We can pick up heartbeat.” There's no sound in the room – the machine's speakers are off.

Buck lets out a rattling breath when he hears the words, but he still asks, toneless, “Can you turn on the sound.”

It's different from what Eddie had heard of Christopher during Shannon's ultrasound. It makes sense, considering the difference in gestation time. This sound is steady, but muffled and thready. It’s, nonetheless, a heartbeat rhythm – if a very quick one. Buck keeps looking at the ceiling as he listens to it, and Eddie continues to thumb over gently at the skin of the back of his hand, watching him. Buck won't look back.

“Your blood work was right in the HCG account. Based on size, you must be just below nine weeks.”

Buck has to wet his lips before speaking. “Does it– uhm. Does everything look alright?”

“Very much so. There's a nice window of variation at this stage, but every number here is on the safe side. Discovery in the second half of the first trimester is more common than you think – I can see no sign on my screen of the gestation having suffered from going unseen until now.”

“That's good to hear,” Buck says, almost too quiet to catch.

The technician does. Until now having given Buck and Eddie space, they turn to look directly at them after a moment of consideration, glancing at Buck, even when he keeps looking to the ceiling.

“Would you like to see it?”

The question is open, no expectation to it. Eddie doesn't turn at it, to the person, or the machine – still turned away. His eyes are only on Buck, and he also sees his next breath, fainter.

Buck doesn't say anything; he just nods.

–

There's no pictures to bring back. Buck's still not sure how he feels about that – or much of everything. In the drive back to Eddie's house, he keeps quiet, like it has probably become his standard. He can feel every and each one of Eddie's glances, in stop lights and turning corners, and Buck keeps quiet about them too.

The drive is quiet.

He had a bad habit of biting his nails when he was a little kid. He had a lot of bad habits – truthfully, Buck still has a load of them. The nails make him feel small though, and Buck, instead, keeps fidgeting, restless with his hands.

They sit on his lap during the ride home, inside Eddie's truck, and again later, when he immediately sits down on Eddie's couch. The –Buck thinks it's dramatic to call it despair– fear from before hasn't gone away, but he feels dull, almost, like he’s got a round of analgesics. He hasn’t had one pill since coming out of the blood draw and doesn't want another one for – he doesn't for how long. There's an urge on him to put a hand on his belly, low, closer to his pelvis than his navel. He has the urge to cry. He feels nothing.

Eddie stands for a moment –Buck feels him, Eddie’s presence in the room, hovering– but then he sits by his side, closer than ever before, though they’ve always pressed near to each other. He puts a hand on Buck’s knee, thumb tracking circles, and he waits for him.

“I–” Buck begins, earlier than he should. His voice cracks, dying on the inside of his throat, and he stops. He breathes in instead. Eddie keeps waiting for him.

“What do you want to do?” Eddie does this. When Buck doesn't know what should even be the shape of his words – he directs him, settles him.

It's the single important thing: what Buck wants to do. Anything else follows from that. It's a deep fucking question. Buck doesn't know how to answer it. But –worse– there's a bit of want on him, on how to do it.

“I’m here,” Eddie says, when Buck’s bottom lip trembles. It makes it tremble even further, even if it's sweet – because it's sweet. Buck’s scared and Eddie always make him feel less like it.

“W-would you stay?” he asks him. That’s what really matters to Buck. He needs Eddie to stay. If he wants it – it is with Eddie by his side.

“Forever,” Eddie promises, nodding for good measure. Buck takes a deep breath, shaky when it leaves him, and lets his head sag on top of Eddie’s shoulder.

“I t-think I want it.”

Eddie breathes against the side of Buck’s face, nose touching gently at his temple, and speaks against him.

“Okay.”

–

There's many things to do, and Eddie does everything for him. He calls the clinic again –asks for a referral, women's health (Buck feels uncomfortable at the wording) and obstetricians– and he looks up what pregnancy looks like when you work for the LAFD. Eddie calls their union, and gets a lot of names on a piece of paper.

“What am I doing?” Buck asks him in a whisper –doing next, he means– when Eddie lays down next to him, sighing tiredly after an afternoon of phone calls and internet searches. Eddie hates both. He did them anyway. He wraps a loose arm around Buck, curling around him.

“You’re still going to be on active duty if you want, until the latter months, unless a doctor recommends against it. I got a few numbers fir those, but we’re going to have to shop around. I, uhm. I didn't find a lot of people specialized on non-female pregnancies.”

Buck’s throat bobs, an uncomfortable swallow.

“What is Gerrard going to say?”

“Nothing if he doesn't want to get socked. He’s been straddling the line between hardass and bigot well enough, but if he refuses to get you the rights you deserve we have a cut and dry case against him. And Hen’s been talking against him for a while. Everything is going to be okay.”

“We need to tell her. And everyone.”

“We don't have to think about that now,” Eddie assures him. His arm is soft around Buck, not too tight, but not too loose, and he raises it across Buck’s chest, squeezing him once. Maddie –god, Maddie – only told everyone she was pregnant with Jee after the start of the second trimester, scared for something Buck doesn't want to even think now, but that doesn't sound like what’s on Eddie’s mind. “This is a lot for you. You tell anyone you want, when you want to, okay? We don't have to rush.”

Buck breathes out. “Okay.”

There's a lull in Eddie’s words though, loud in his silence, even when Buck can't see him, and the exhale doesn't get to keep off weight.

“There's someone you should consider contacting though, eventually.”

Buck knows who Eddie is talking of before he's said it. It's a repeat of one of their first conversations this weekend, minus the sharpness or the dread – only a slight development. Buck doesn't have to wonder who’s the other father, and neither does Eddie – he was right when first guessing that it was Tommy. Tommy had been Buck’s last boyfriend, ever since they broke up, last anything, really, and Eddie knows both, even if he's too polite to mention it. He is Buck’s support now, though, and he does need to mention Tommy, if only in this instance.

“You think Tommy should know?” Buck’s voice doesn't get to be anything but small. He’s glad it just doesn't croak – his last time seeing Tommy hadn't been exactly happy, and if he's being honest, he hasn't dealt with the breakup in any way. He had to focus more on Eddie. Now, there's someone else that it concerns –someone that will, anyway, if months from now– and Buck’s almost scared to see him again, especially in this context.

“I think you both have rights. Yours are more pressing, since you’re…you have the baby, but Tommy should learn about it, eventually. You have the right for child support, for one. And…I can't imagine if Shannon hadn't told me about Christopher.” His voice grows quiet – longing. It's a pang on both of their chest. Until Eddie dispels it. “Even if I don't like Tommy.”

That gets a snort from Buck, even one slightly damp. “He was your friend first.”

“Not anymore. He dumped you – asshole. If he's got any worth, he’ll want to help. This isn't an urging for you to get together, by the way. He's still an idiot.”

Buck smiles. He shakes his head softly, his hair brushing against Eddie’s face. “I’ve got you already.”

Eddie breathes quietly. He squeezes him another time.

“I can go with you – if you’re anxious about talking with Tommy. With anyone.”

“I, uhm, want to tell Maddie. I want you there, for her. B-but I think I have to see Tommy alone.”

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah.” Their break up was about Eddie, for one. Buck doesn't need to start that argument again.

“Okay.” Buck feels something press against his nape – Eddie’s lips, he realizes, not kissing, just speaking softly against his skin. Eddie’s nose moves against it as he nods, and Buck raises a hand to hold the arm around his chest, ginger in his touch until Eddie presses close again, a promise. “There's anyone else you want to tell?” Eddie whispers against him.

Bobby, is Buck’s first thought. But not right now. He feels as pressing as nerve-wracking.

Buck shakes his head, and feels Eddie’s breath brush through his hair. “Alright,” Eddie tells him.

They sleep wrapped close.

–

Buck doesn't have to insist on meeting Tommy alone, which he's thankful for, but he's still aware of Eddie’s uncertainty. He lets Buck drive alone to Tommy’s apartment the next day –Tommy never worked sundays– but there's a nervous energy about Eddie as he hovers over Buck, giving him food and petting his back when Buck eventually can't hold back from vomiting. It's trust that lets Eddie let him go, and it also trust that has Buck promising he’ll immediately call Eddie, good or bad news.

It's funny that, despite Eddie looking anxious on his own accord, he tries to soothe Buck, when he hesitates on the front door.

“Hey – remember what I said, yeah? If Tommy’s anything good, he’ll listen to you. If he doesn't, he doesn't matter.”

Buck nods, a little shakely, and gives Eddie a small smile to soothe him back.

They’re the blind leading the blind, Buck thinks.

He ubers to Tommy’s place – head too loud to drive safely. Tommy will have to be prepping lunch right around now, a little before noon. It's early, but Buck and Eddie can't be sure if Tommy will have plans later. Buck tries not to think that this feels like a shake down.

Tommy’s not big on takeout, and a simple cook. He likes salad and keeping pre-prepared meat in the freezer. Remembering that leaves Buck with a sense of longing when he’s on the way to his apartment – flashes of memory, when Tommy only brought butterflies to his stomach. Buck liked eating with Tommy. It wasn't about the food.

Today, he's not going for the food nor the company. Buck’s especially anxious about the latter – even if he knows he has to do this alone. It's a private talk, for one. For Buck and Tommy. Buck’s body is in question, and Tommy’s possible kid –if he wants to stick around– too. Buck can't talk about it with waiters walking around them; not that Tommy would want to see him again.

When Tommy opens the door, he looks a little gobsmacked. Buck wonders if he’d thought about him, any of those weeks.

“Evan.” He blinks, a little taken aback. The name is about the same for Buck – he’d forgotten again how it is to be called it. Tommy was the only one that did it, outside of his parents (and Maddie, less frequently) and at the time of their breakup, Buck still wasn't sure if he liked it or not. It sounded…adult, as nonsensical as that is. He isn't sure he likes it now, said with a tone of bewilderment. Maybe Tommy hadn't thought about him after all.

“H-hi, Tommy. Uhm– can I come in?”

It takes a moment of consideration, but Tommy eventually steps away from the door, letting Buck in. His apartment is the same; it smells of roasted potatoes, and Buck’s stomach somersaults between hunger and nausea. Baby –Buck’s still getting used to thinking of them like that, instead of simply fetus– doesn't like that.

“Sorry for the mess. I was finishing lunch.”

“It's alright.” Tommy doesn't ask him to join – probably for the best, since Buck will probably just end up throwing on his shoes. The nerves don't help.

“How are you doing? It's been… a while.”

“Yeah,” Buck shuffles on his feet. He scratches at the back of his head. “A lot, uhm– has happened.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Is it part of the reason you were out in my front door on a sunday?”

Buck lets out a little nervous laugh. “Uh, kind of. It's – a little complicated.”

Tommy’s eyes are assessing. “Is it about Eddie?”

“N-no. It's about…it's about you, actually. Us, I guess. Can we, uhm, can we sit down?”

He raises a loose hand, motioning to the direction of one of his counter chairs. Buck supposes he knows the way.

Tommy’s apartment is open concept, not too different from Buck’s – if it can still be called that, with how long it's been since Buck spent any significant time inside it. There's no loft in Tommy’s, and instead of stairs he just has a bedroom door, which is probably more functional. Buck walks to his kitchen, sharing the same space as the living room, or what's supposed to be it anyway, and he sits in one of the directed chairs, even if the proximity to Tommy’s lunch has Buck’s nostrils cringing. He sits gingerly, hands curled on his lap –the same urge to touch his stomach, self-consciously now– and he tries to decide on how to talk about this thing.

Tommy stays standing.

“I’m– I’m pregnant.”

Straight to the point is simple enough. There's two exam results on Buck’s pocket: his blood draw, and the lookover he received after the internal ultrasound, two proofs if Tommy feels he needs them. Buck wouldn't fault him. Tommy knew Buck’s body quite intimately, and there was no external sign that this was something that could happen, were they as careless as they were. Buck isn't showing, and to anyone’s eyes he's as cis and male as they come. When Tommy’s eyes grow to saucers, more unbelieving than just shocked, Buck tells himself there's no reason to feel offended.

He pulls his exams and offers them to Tommy, trying to make his voice sound steady. “I promise I’m not lying. I– I didn't know this could happen, and I just learned about it this weekend. About me and– and the baby.” He’s still in tatters. It's by the skin of his teeth that Buck tries not to let it show.

“Jesus.” Tommy takes the papers – reads over them, once, twice, a third time. He looks over to Buck –still wide-eyed– but the bewilderment isn't necessarily accusing. It's not comforting, though.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says before he can stop. He probably means it. Sorry for Tommy, mostly, doing this to him, even if he truly didn't know he could. “I– I’m sorry.”

“You really didn't know?”

“No, I– You're the first man I was with.” Buck fidgets with his hands, self-conscious. Tommy doesn't need to hear it – he knew it well enough.

“And I was the only one?”

“Of course you were.” Buck tries not to feel defensive, curling his hands over his thighs. “There's– there's been no one else.”

It doesn't seem to comfort Tommy. “Jesus, Evan.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I heard you the first time.” He puts a hand over his face – Buck’s last glimpse shows genuine fear. That's worse than anger. “I can't – I can't do this.”

Buck’s stomach falls.

“Tommy–”

“ No . I talked with you about my father. I don't want children. I– I never did. I didn't say it with you because I didn't think it would ever happen–” that hurts too, “but clearly –”

“I didn't mean for this.”

“Neither did I!” Tommy throws his hands to the air. The exams fall.

“I’m a man almost to my fifties,” Tommy goes on. “I was very careful to not get anyone pregnant before coming out. This isn't for me, Evan,” he tried to plead, almost. Buck just feels fucking punched.

“You don't– you don't need to be with me.” He hadn't pictured it like that, and Buck can picture even less, even if there's something bitter about it: bringing a kid into as much distance as he felt, when he was small. “I just– I just needed you to know.”

Tommy shakes his head. “I wish you hadn't.”

That’s it, isn't it?

Buck has to get the papers from the floor. Tommy stands to the side –hand to the bottom half of his mouth, and pointedly not looking at him– and Buck knows it's distance, not space. It settles low on his stomach, a new kind of nausea, until Buck’s just feeling sickness on the back of his throat, straightening up with his exams back on his pocket as he tries not to look at Tommy either. He's ruined his lunch. It doesn't make Buck feel any better.

When he goes to walk out the door, Tommy tells him, “Don’t contact me again,” a tone of pleading to his voice, and Buck doesn't answer anything back. Those are their last words – Buck’s, just silence.

–

“He has rights,” Buck echoes Eddie, when he looks set to blow up.

“Doesn't mean he gets to act like an asshole about it.” He wasn't entirely asshole-y, Buck doesn't say – just pitible. It doesn't change much; Buck feels the sharpness of abandonment either way. Not even Eddie’s anger –softened in front of Buck– helps, even if it's on his behalf. Eddie has to notice because he stops, sitting down beside Buck with a careful touch.

“Do you think he'll change his mind?” Buck asks him in a quiet voice.

“Do you want to?”

Buck shakes his head, but it's a less straightforward answer. “What if– what if he regrets it later, but wants the baby just to himself?”

“Family court doesn't work like that.” Eddie is patient with him. “And with what you said, Tommy doesn't sound like he'll want to be a father.”

Buck keeps shaking his head. Eddie picks up his hand, soft.

“Hey. What's going on?”

“I– I don't know,” Buck croaks.

“Buck. What has you looking so afraid?”

It takes a thick swallow, but Buck looks to Eddie, though he's afraid of that too.

“What if I don't get to keep them?”

His voice breaks. Eddie’s face contorts in understandment, or what he guesses to be true about Buck, but it doesn't let Buck feel any better. The fear is physical, a vice grip to his chest, and it's impossible to soothe with only wishful thinking. As gently as Eddie turns to hold him, shift so they’re eye-to-eye, the grip doesn't lessen.

“There's absolutely no reason for that. You want the pregnancy – you’ll have the baby. No one’s going to take that from you. This isn’t like before, Buck.”

But it isn't just that. Giving up Lucas was a blow – Buck had been stupid, and stupider for not expecting to be it, but he would have survived the distance as long as he hadn't been the first one to hold him, and to give him away too. Helping Cameron give birth was the hardest thing she and Connor asked of him, and Buck wishes that made him more angry, more ready to not want any form of contact, instead of heartbroken they stopped it first – a photo of Lucas’ first month, and then nothing else beside what they make public in their instagram.

But denial –the world’s, looking at him and going nuh-uh – went further. Denial was also seeing a thirteen-year-old’s back as he walked away from him, not a goodbye to Buck because he was angry at someone else. Denial was a lack of contact that still hasn't stopped. Denial could be any number of tragedies – a miscarriage, a stillbirth, another nuh-uh . Buck doesn't get to have these things. He only watches from afar.

This time it will kill him. He can't lie about it anymore. Buck doesn't have any more space to carry grief.

He keeps shaking his head at Eddie – no word to give him. How could he? The first time, it was Buck’s fault. The second it was Eddie’s, and it almost had him killed. Buck can't say a thing. He doesn't, now, and just tries moving his face away when Eddie moves to cup his cheek, trying for comfort.

Eddie manages it anyway, and keeps cradling Buck’s face even when he –eyes burning– refuses to look at him.

“I can't promise you much. I wish I could – I fucking wish I could, every time. I want to now too, and I’m sorry I can't. But, Buck – nothing besides a tragedy is going to take this from you. I promise I wouldn't let it. Do you hear me? I promise .”

There's been very little Buck hasn't believed from Eddie.

He doesn't answer him, but Buck does croak out hm-huh , voice breaking again even coming only from the inside of his throat. After Tommy, he's hungry for touch. A hand to his cheek, and then another on his shoulder, Eddie’s a balm: holding him together, tiny pieces clasped into shape.

It's hysterical to think, but –after everything– they'll still have work monday.

–

They go together to work and they keep quiet together at work. Hen is the first to come to Buck, clearly worried after two days of radio silence after he left the way he did, but Buck reassures her – he isn't dying. Not for now, at least.

He doesn't tell her anything else, even if Hen might have been the safest person to do so. Buck doesn't even have the excuse of waiting for the second trimester – he does want to wait on telling everyone until Maddie knows first, but he's also painfully relieved for keeping the secret, so his reasoning isn't all pure. Buck’s just really, really scared of starting that talk. That's a conversation difficult to plan, and after Tommy, one even more anxious.

Thinking about anything Gerrard also doesn't help. Buck doesn't doubt Eddie will do well in his promise, and he does feel like a guard dog, keeping closer to Buck, and more focused, than before. He wouldn't know that this would steady Eddie, but it makes sense – Buck also stopped worrying a lot about his own problems when he simply focused on taking care of Eddie.

Gerrard doesn't ask Buck about needing to go to the doctor and he doesn't comment on friday’s rescue, which is fine by Buck. He keeps his distance from the captain, and when he starts running his stupid fucking drills, Eddie keeps an eye on him. Whenever Gerrard isn't looking, Eddie tells him to rest.

It won't take long for people to start noticing that something is different, so Buck really has to tell Maddie.

A year ago, he used to visit her during lunch break – but that was a year ago. Now, Buck has to text her about meeting up –alone– after both their shifts, and sweat inside a bathroom stall as he waits for her to respond.

Maddie's Sounds like a plan! doesn't make Buck feel any more calm. He gets out of the bathroom with a clammy neck, and Eddie cups his nape right out of the door, like he'd been waiting for Buck and exactly this kind of reaction. Eddie's touch continues to be steadying, and in the end his hand keeps there until Buck’s properly breathed out.

Buck brings Eddie to his and Maddie's meeting place, and her eyes go comically wide when she sees him trailing behind Buck. The humor doesn't last long. Maddie’s an easy crier, and Buck’s been in shambles for the past days, so it isn't long before they’re both just crying at one another, sobbing in a public park.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Maddie tells him, though there's nothing – there never has been anything – that’s her fault. “I can't believe mom and dad just lied about taking you to the doctor. Evan, I’m so sorry .”

“It's not your fault,” Buck sniffles, but Maddie just keeps shaking her head.

“I hate them sometimes. They make it too easy.” Buck doesn't need to tell her that he hates them all the time. “This isn't something that should ever happen without you wanting it to, Buck.”

“Y-yeah. It isn't.” Eddie –ever quiet by his side– squeezes Buck’s hand where he's holding it, and Buck feels a snotty smile twitch on his face, giving a tiny squeeze back. “But, uhm. I think I do want it.”

Maddie's eyes soften and brighten at the same time, so much love for Buck in them he physically feels his heart clench, a good feeling this time.

“Buck,” Maddie coos, and Buck feels ten again, giving a small, fond laugh at his sister, right until she goes on. “I didn't know you got together.”

Buck feels Eddie’s hand freeze.

Both of theirs must do – both of them as a whole, honestly. Anyone else, Buck would understand the assumption; he remembers sitting in front of Maddie and Chim when they kept telling everyone they were just friends, and thinking the same thing Maddie is right now, and the memory takes out of Buck every comfort and fondness he’d just managed to gather, a cold shower of water. Having to hear the same thing makes his stomach hurt, and he does wonder if that's what Chim and Maddie had felt – but they actually ended up together. It’s almost enough for him to rip his hand out of Eddie’s, except imagining the opposite –Eddie letting go of his like he's been burned– genuinely feels like getting struck.

“We’re not,” Eddie says, taking over Buck’s silence, like he's been since friday. His voice doesn't break like Buck would have –for embarrassment or, or– Buck can't even say– but it sounds so stiff it is just as worse. There's nothing comforting about Eddie's defunct handhold.

“It– it's Tommy’s,” Buck follows. Maddie already looked awkward with Eddie's rebuttal, but Tommy's mention makes her eyebrows raise halfway into her hairline.

“U– Tommy?” With how shocked she sounds, you would think Buck hadn't had a relationship with the man at all. Maddie tries to course correct, but Buck can still read the bewilderment hidden on her face, even through the sincere pity that takes over her voice the next she speaks up. “You told me you broke up.”

“We did,” Buck answers, very quietly. Maddie's brow pinches painfully, doubly, when Buck continues. “H- he, uhm. He won't be in the picture.”

“Oh, Evan…”

It’s not that Buck isn't sad. He cared for Tommy a great deal – still does, even now. Buck didn't expect their breakup, and that was what had hurt the most; if Tommy hadn't said anything, Buck would still be with him. But they would have had to end up here anyway, Buck has realized – dating or not dating Tommy, he was pretty clear that he saw no future for himself with children. Buck tends to follow the lead of his partners, but he can't imagine that this would be something he would give up. Even if the suggestion does make something bitter and scared flash on his chest.

That hadn't happened though. Buck was with Eddie and kept with Eddie, if not in the way Maddie's imagined, and it's not that Buck isn't sad, but he thinks he much prefers having had Eddie by his side these last few days than anything that might have happened with only Tommy. That's one comfort.

“I'm not alone,” Buck tries to reassure his sister. It's a reassurance for himself too: between Maddie, Eddie, and all the rest of their family, after Buck has finished telling them, there will be no shortage of people who'll have his back. Those more that make up for any sense of abandonment – from Tommy or Buck's parents.

“You're not,” Maddie agrees, strong in making sure Buck listen to just that. But she does glance between him and Eddie again –something unreadable flashing on her face– and the words take on a double meaning in the silence.

–

“Does…does the idea of me being the other father make you uncomfortable?”

He and Eddie are washing the dishes. Eddie is, anyway. Buck's single serving of sliced tuna hasn't been enough to make him feel nauseous –for now, anyway– but Eddie's made him tea, ginger, because he heard somewhere that helps with settling the stomach, and Buck's cradling the cup on the table while Eddie washes their plates.

Eddie's voice is too soft for his question to take Buck out, but the tentativeness in it instead makes his chest clench, when Buck has processed the words. The tension it shrouds over both of them isn't so different from the moment with Maddie, and Buck's hands do halt, for a moment, around his mug. He keeps looking at the tea, so he won't see Eddie.

“...Does it make you?” Buck asks back, voice even smaller.

Eddie's not doing too differently. Buck still hears the sink running, the slight noise from the plates coming under the water and then against the kitchen sponge, and though he can't look to check, it's easy to imagine Eddie staring intently into his hands, the task they're undertaking. The kitchen’s quiet between them, soft like every other night, and Buck tries to hold it as reassurance that this isn't going to be an argument.

Eddie breaths, something soft. “It doesn't,” he answers Buck, and it settles a thing in him, small and pleased, the answer and Eddie’s willingness to give it, so Buck tries to share it too.

“It doesn't make me uncomfortable either.”

Ginger tea to help Buck not feel nauseous and washing the dishes on his own to give him time to drink it. Internet searches because Buck’s scared of doing them, for once, and for the probability they’ll just make him more anxious. Taking him to the doctor and holding his hand during the exam, letting everyone think whatever they want. Eddie’s hand froze in front of Maddie, but in no other time. The idea of being read as a couple makes something insecure thin and snap in Buck, but keeping together, just as they are, carries nothing of insecure about it. Relying on Eddie. Taking care of a baby with him.

That’s not so novel, Buck’s aware. He'd met Christopher a week after meeting Eddie, and he’d brightened Buck’s life for every year after, until three months ago. The absence of light just marks that it existed even more, and Buck aches when he thinks that Chris is in Texas while they’re here, but they took care of him. They did that together. Buck wants to continue doing it –bring, somehow, Christopher home– and he also wants this: another child between them, one Buck can trust to Eddie as much as Eddie had trusted his son to him.

The kitchen sink turns off, and clothes rustle in Buck’s direction. He turns right towards it, and meets Eddie’s gaze halfway through. There's still something holding Eddie back against the sink, hands fidgeting with the kitchen towel as he dries them, but his eyes are open as he looks to Buck.

“You’re not alone,” he repeats the same words Buck said to Maddie, more sure than even Buck had sounded, and there's a promise in it. Buck’s ready to have it be the unspoken thing, a company and support that are a given, a will they never mention, but Eddie is still looking at him, and there's something stubborn, almost, in his eyes, that Buck realizes is directed at Eddie himself. Something he’s being deliberate in making out loud. “As long as you want me here –for whatever you want– I’m going to stay. As long as you want.”

Buck’s answering exhale comes out mute in the kitchen – it doesn't make it any less strong. He believes in Eddie. It's easier to believe in Eddie than it is to believe in himself. It's as steadying as Eddie as a whole.

Chapter Text

Gerrard bites the dust –metaphorically– easier than Eddie thought it would take. He won't lie and say that Buck’s condition didn't make him want the old man to croak more than ever before, but in the end, it has nothing to do with Buck.

The 118 answers to a big fire –an apartment complex, spark starting from the main building but already threatening to spread everywhere else– and it's serious enough that the call has required three fire stations. The IC is from another firehouse, the first to arrive on the scene, but Gerrard is still in command of his, and there are more people than his direct subordinates to judge his actions, especially in a time like this.

Eddie feels his heart squeeze inside his chest from the time the four-level alarm rings inside the station. Buck jumps on the rig right beside him and Eddie is all too aware of the passenger Buck is carrying, the only other person that knows. Buck still hasn't got around to telling anyone past Maddie even after several weeks –an uncertainty that Eddie doesn't question, or interrogate him about– and Eddie can't pull him out of the scene without sounding crazy and insubordinate. Buck is never scared of danger, even when he should –even when Eddie’s blood pressure would prefer it– and it's hard to know exactly what he's thinking, silent on the way to the call, but Eddie presses their knees together inside the rig, a promise and a request all in one.

When they arrive and jump out the engine, it's all hands on deck. Buck is trained in heavy rescue, and even if he wasn't, there are too many firefighters needed inside the apartment, rescuing the people who hadn't come out fast enough. The fire started fast, and now Eddie’s heart is beating just as quick. He doesn't care about what Gerrard immediately starts shouting for, has to have this moment, a hand wrapping around the back of Buck’s turnout to stop him from immediately running off as he ducks his head close to Buck’s, until their eyes have caught and Buck is listening.

“Be careful.” Eddie can't beg without calling attention to both of them, and so these words are heavier than usual. Buck doesn't need much to understand them.

Looking at him, Eddie can see that there's already a good deal of worry on Buck –his eyebrows are knit, and his lips pulled taut– and it doesn't exactly comfort Eddie, but it at least means Buck’s scared too. Eddie lists forward until their temples can press together, a brief but heavy weight, and then he's straightening up again, letting go of Buck’s turnout to hold only the trust Eddie has for him.

As short as the moment is, private, but not hidden, Gerrard doesn't miss it. His derisive voice comes in Buck and Eddie’s direction, as distasteful as always.

“Are the princesses already done? Move!”

In public, it's strike one, even if Gerrard has his head too up his ass to notice it, and Eddie –honestly– is too spiteful to see it either. He grits his teeth, holding Buck’s gaze for one moment, and then lets go of both, hurrying into the scene like he –and Buck– are needed.

Eddie gets sent into the burning building along with other firefighters, from the 118 and beyond, as is Buck, but they’re not together for it, answering to different requests for support. Eddie gets separated from him right in the smoky hall, each of them being sent to different floors, and it's a job in itself not to worry about Buck. Eddie has to believe in him – that he’ll hear Eddie, and that he’ll hear himself too, the worry that was already present.

Gerrard directs them from the radio, staying outside as half of the house’s crew is working the hoses, trying to hold back the fire from spreading even further. Every call with Gerrard –every minute, really– is a reminder of how different he is to Bobby: there's no sense of concern when he rides them hard, sending them further into fire or telling them to drop everything, just the rigidness of someone who has a specific way they want to work; and a relentlessness of getting all subordinates to run and stop to answer him.

“ Diaz, the sixth floor is without men .”

“I’m still checking through the fourth–”

“ I’m sending you to the sixth – get there before people die already .”

Gerrard doesn't want people to work with, he wants subalterns – like a thickheaded army commander. With people like him, diligence isn't as well prized as simple compliance. Eddie isn't a stranger to those flavors of command – it doesn't mean he likes it. Kind of the contrary, actually; he thought he outran that stick of thorns when he left the army.

Eddie’s already grinding his teeth as it is, and every little dig from Gerrard makes his jaw groan. The comms are open, though – with a multi-station response, every house has to know each other’s movement. Gerrard’s harheadness doesn't work as well when there's other captains there to listen to him.

“ Captain 118, the west side of the fifth floor hasn't been entirely cleared yet. There were too many victims to carry out. We still have to check if there's any other people left .”

There's no sound from Gerrard's radio for a stiff pause, but it’s not hard for Eddie to imagine the captain’s teeth grinding too.

“ Continue, firefighter Diaz .”

It's too hard and cloudly to completely smirk, but there's a release inside of Eddie. “On it, captain.”

Tipically, the further up in a building, the higher chances of people still being trapped inside. Smoke rises, and civilians get scared that the fire is right behind it; they hide in rooms, and wait for rescue to come their way. Eddie has to come outside and back in two times, bringing out people, but it's far fewer than a fire from this size would usually require. This hasn't been a tragedy.

When the building is fully cleared, it's already in it's last legs; the structure is groaning, dying moans, and Eddie hurries back outside with a guy from the 123 he meets in the emergency stairs, calling out in comms that he's coming out. His heart is on his throat in a way that's both usual and novel, a new kind of fear taking a piece of Eddie’s chest, but when he hears a similar call from Buck’s radio – “ Buckley, here – I’m almost out ,” – it's the first piece of a string being cut from his rigid shoulders.

Buck’s already in the courtyard in front of the building when Eddie gets past the doors, the flashes of light from the fire engines’ still blasting alarms making the sweat on his face shine. He's out of his helmet already, hair splaterred to his face, but he's standing up, only breathing heavily for –apparently– exertion. Eddie keeps running right up to him, calling for Buck’s name and seeing him turn, a twin of the relief that must surely be on Eddie’s own face.

“Hey – hey, hey.” Eddie puts both of his hands on Buck’s shoulders, brushing them up and down, checking for injury and –really– that Buck is really here. Even if it's been thirty minutes at most that Eddie last seen him. Buck’s not injured, but Eddie still trails his eyes over him, making their stop on his face again, following with his touch until Eddie’s hands are cradling Buck’s cheeks. “Are you okay?”

For once Eddie is glad for the English language’s stupid single pronoun for the second person, allowing him the vagueness to refer to both Buck and the baby.

“Y-yeah.”

“Did you take off your helmet at any time? Got hit?”

“No, no. I’m okay.” They’re in public. The building is empty of residents and firefighters. There's still people running around them, and even more out in the street, watching the fire’s finale. Buck and Eddie’s own coworkers are around, and Eddie hardly cares about it, but he's not clueless either. Neither is Buck. As much as he melts at Eddie’s touch, relieved too, Buck only catches and holds the hands on his face for a moment before he brings them down. From behind Eddie, there's the approach of Gerrard’s voice –in person, now– and Eddie allows the touch to finish, nodding at Buck in silent conversation a final time.

He turns before Gerrard’s truly close, almost putting himself in front of Buck. It's not subtle, but it seems that the presence of other houses has finally reached Gerrard’s concern, because he just glares at them instead of letting out those little comments he loves so much.

The rest of the 118 is close – the station’s ambulance is parked on the yard, with Hen finishing with a patient before sending them for transport, and Chim’s talking with the residents sitting outside the building, checking their lungs and pupils. Gerrard is like a bad omen, something you feel approach, and it doesn't surprise Eddie to see Chim’s head lift up, and Hen turn around. She finally leaves the ambulance, closing it and giving three knocks to send the driver on their way, and Eddie doesn't mistake the hurry that she takes to reach him and Buck. When Gerrard is right in front of them, she's already stopping by Buck’s side.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Wilson,” Gerrard interrupts, the same tough voice as always. Eddie doesn't mistake his special distaste for Hen either – hasn't for even a moment. “Did you finish with your patient before going to your friend?”

“Of course, captain,” Hen doesn't rise to the bait. Her eyes are only cold on Gerrard –none of the care they carried when turned to Buck– and it makes his jaw tense, but she's always respectful when Gerrard’s present. Different from him.

Gerrard makes a bitter sound – still lighter than it would otherwise be, were the 118 alone. They're not, in this scene, and especially not in the patio, when the fire is just wrapping up. The incident commander starts coming their way –a captain from a downtown station that Eddie only catches the name because it's written on her coat– and she throws a thoughtful glance to Gerrard's back as she walks towards him, one that Eddie doesn't miss.

He keeps close to Buck –and Hen– until Captain Holland comes closer, approaching steps eventually entering Gerrad's hearing range. His body visibly straightens up as he turns in her direction.

“Captain Gerrard – are all your people accounted for?”

“Yes. These two were the last inside.” The gravel of Gerrard's voice scratches more derisively at the mention of Eddie and Buck. Eddie keeps himself from glaring at the sound.

“Good.” Holland looks between all of them, a wordless overview that can have more than one intent, but by the end, after she's caught most of their gazes and given out one nod, Holland finishes only with Gerrard. “Don't leave yet. The fire's been stopped from spreading, but we'll still have to wait until the main building finishes burning.”

“Yes, miss,” Gerrard answers, and he doesn't know he's been just sentenced.

The change over doesn't happen immediately, and most of the signs are very covert. They finish with the scene and run over their shift, but during the rest of the week Gerrard receives a lot of phone calls.

He's watched closely for the last weeks he remains at the 118 – the reason he's sent away. There's nothing obvious about Gerrard's mistreatment outside of what happens in the firehouse, and, anyway, Hen tells Eddie he's been much more subtle on prejudice since her time, but he's simply not that good a captain. That preference to obedience, and making them prove it, instead of just making good calls, costs him. The complaints they had been sending for months must have weighed something too, because before the end of the month, the department's chief comes to the station on the start of shift and tells everyone Gerrard's been reassigned again. Non-active command, this time.

It figures that it's the department's concern of Gerrard fucking up enough to warrant civil suits that wins over him being an actual bigot.

Eddie will take the wins he can.

“It was my fault he was sent here,” Hen tells everyone after chief Simmons has left, pretty sullen for what was supposed to be a victory meal. The station's been taken off the grid until Gerrard’s replacement arrives, and they only have protein bars and –obviously– no alcohol, but it's the intent that matters.

Buck's been pretty giddy beside Eddie, if more subdued than usual – the new usual, maybe. Chim is probably the happiest from everyone in the station, the one who had the most years beneath Gerrard, but he and Buck sound the same when they start cooing at Hen, sympathetics No, come on –

“I'm serious. That councilwoman – Ortiz . The last time I saw her to beg about Mara she asked me how her good old friend Gerrard was doing in his new assignment.”

“Do you think Gerrard biting it is going to look ugly on her?” Eddie has the feeling Chim only asks that to try and give her a little enthusiasm, but it doesn't work – Hen keeps looking down.

“I have no idea.” She gives a big exhale. Visibly changing lanes, Hen tries shaking the gloomness away, but Eddie knows it's only for their sake. “Anyway – I'm sure her hands won't get on the firehouse so soon again while the department’s still looking. Let's just enjoy that.”

“Is there space for one more?”

They all turn as a unit, about just as bewildered too. Buck is the first to wake up from it, not even a second since Bobby's voice rings out in the loft –the first time in months that it does– before he's jumping towards him.

“U– Wait–” The joy's louder than the confusion, and it just rises when, halfway to him, he actually processes that Bobby is in uniform. Bobby catches Buck when he crashes against him, and chuckles from inside the hug. “No way! No way! ”

“Hey, kid.”

Working under Bobby again is like slipping into an old, comfortable piece of clothing. It hugs the body, fits and settles over it like nothing else had managed. Bobby's a whole package: they return to family meals and flexible rosters, hanging around together in the station loft when they're not on calls, now they don't have to play hide and seek anymore, and for the first in a long time, Eddie doesn't feel he's a bad slip from falling on his face. He isn't alone with Buck anymore. The station is one again.

Maybe that was what Buck was waiting for.

“I'm thinking about telling them.”

They're back to Eddie house, getting the bed ready for the night. Buck hasn't needed his throw-up bucket for some days already, but Eddie still angles it out from underneath the bed, helpfully out of the way for when Buck has to get up to use the bathroom, as he's peeing by the gallons. Buck is quiet; he's been quiet for the whole day, even in the station, and it isn't that Buck is sullen like before –having Bobby around is making him get out of the bed like a kid on Christmas for the all the weeks since his return– but it was clear to Eddie he had something in his mind. Now, Eddie can be sure of what it is.

Eddie sits on his haunches, still on the ground by the bed while Buck sits over the covers, legs crossed beneath his body. It's not that he looks self conscious – just vulnerable, like the topic tends to leave him. Eddie hasn't had to ask Buck if he's really sure about the pregnancy because he knows Buck would tell him about it, but it's the rest he's scared about.

“About the baby?” Eddie asks him, mostly to urge Buck along. Close to a month since the first doctor consult, it's still a learning curve to talk about it, but it's a thing both of them have to get comfortable with; every time he and Buck actually say baby and pregnancy instead of walking on circles the future gets a little more firm, material like the reality it is.

Buck nods back to him. He's not looking directly at Eddie –glancing anywhere else, looking from under his lashes– but from his nerves Eddie knows he's very much paying attention, using Eddie as the typical sounding board.

“It's weird. Being at work without anyone knowing. I– I know no one does, when I'm w-walking around, but at the station I feel like I'm keeping a secret. Hiding something.”

“It is medical information. But if that's the only reason, you only really needs to tell Bobby.”

Buck fidgets with his hands for a moment, looking down to them. 

“It's– it's not the only reason.”

Eddie smiles softly at him. “I know.”

When the nerves aren't showing, there's something more gentle to see in Buck – Eddie doesn't know if he should call it wonder, but that sentiment seems close. Buck's been taking longer in the bathroom when he goes take a shower and Eddie knows it's because he's looking at himself in the mirror, trying to catch changes. There are none, at least from what Eddie gets to see from him: Buck's just between the third and fourth month, and he isn't showing enough for it to get past his uniform or house clothes, but maybe when he's undressed Buck gets to see something. Eddie obviously can't ask to do the same, but he's also feeling a little wonder himself.

Before the end of the year, Buck will have a baby. It's a pretty surreal thought. They have months to prepare, get hand-me-down from Buck's sister and buy and build a crib from scratch, but now, Eddie still isn't out from feeling flabbergasted. He'll get to see a piece of Buck, watch it grow, help him through it.

The more Eddie and Buck talk about it, the easier it is to believe in it. Have other people also know follows the same rule; but there's something scary about making this true, too.

“I know they aren't going to be– weird, about it,” Buck says, talkative now in a way that's only from nervousness. “I know that. I mean, except Bobby – he's probably not going to let me carry even a clipboard.”

“I second that.”

“Screw you,” Buck's nose curls at Eddie, but he's smiling. Eddie’s still smiling too.

“You can do it during family meal.” He purposely keeps the same tone with the suggestion, trying not to change the brief respite in the conversation. Looking closely at Buck, Eddie watches him breath through his mulling. “It would be just one conversation.”

“Everyone at once,” Buck whispers and Eddie nods at him.

“Yeah. Might be easier. During breakfast, so that you won't spend the whole shift worrying about it.”

“But then I’ll have to deal with everyone knowing instead.”

“They're not going to be weird,” Eddie repeats Buck's own words.

“You're going to threaten anyone if they are?” Buck asks it back as a joke, already an upturn to the corner of his mouth, but Eddie's entirely serious in his answer.

“Yes.”

Buck's lips twitch. It's a softer look to the smile.

-

No one's weird. Past the expected initial confusion, everyone's answers are between excitement and relief – Buck calling all their attention while looking nervous probably made it seem like more tragic news, which this isn't, not after Buck decided this was something he wanted. Eddie would give Buck a look of I told you so , or make another joke about not having to fight their coworkers, but he just looks so comforted at it all, Eddie just smiles privately at him.

“Wait– does Maddie know? Because your sister's going to kill me if I got the news first.”

“She heard it first,” Buck assures Chimney, still looking soft and happy. “Maddie beats you.”

Chim brings a hand to his chest, like he just got shot.

“Was this what the doctor said?” Hen's voice is gentler with Buck. Eddie understands the soft touch –and the slight frown on Hen's face, even if she still shared everyone's general happiness. Before even Buck knew anything, it was Hen that had Eddie drive him to the doctor.

“Y-yeah. Thanks for…you know.”

“Of course.” Hen fixes Buck with a smile. “I'm really happy for you two.”

It's the same exact assumption Maddie had, and Eddie wishes he could say that already expecting it the second time around doesn't make him trip up so much but his first instinct is still to stammer out a rebuttal. Buck, for once, is more practiced than him on this one. He just tells Hen point blank, “We're not together,” body held so completely still he doesn't even shake his head at her.

“It's not mine,” Eddie follows, when Hen glances somewhat unreadably between them. He isn't going to say Buck's ex-boyfriend name when there's other coworkers on the table beside Buck's immediate circle, but Hen understands what's unsaid anyway; it's not like Buck had any time recently to hook up.

Eddie expects the twitch on her face at Tommy’s reminder but the bafflement she doesn't even try to hide is harder to figure out.

“I'm still going to help,” Eddie feels the need to say. Outside his mouth, t sounds a little like the staking of a claim, and that doesn't help with Hen's look either. Eddie looks to the rest of the table both to escape it and make sure everyone understands Buck's not going to be alone, but some of the other expressions around aren't so far off from hers.

Bobby's is more civil. “I'm glad to hear that.” He directs it to Buck and he both preens and squirms at the attention, but Eddie can see Buck's pleased to have his approval. “Having a child isn't easy, but you'll have all of our support too with that.”

“Thanks, cap.”

Buck doesn't seem as anxious as he could be through the rest of the shift after having told everyone. Something settles on his shoulders and Eddie is glad to see the new level of comfort he takes in the station. For now there's no overt kid gloves at the fact Buck's expecting –Eddie can't wait to see until that’s not the case– and so Buck just looks timidly happy when someone comes to talk with him about it. The nervousness bleeds a little out of Buck every time he talks about the pregnancy and how he's feeling, and every glance Eddie takes of him from afar – the more open look on Buck's face, the lighter shape of his shoulders – is a further relief.

Maybe Eddie is also swimming a little in it. He's glad if Buck's glad, and both of those counts had been rarer than usual more recently. Eddie feels settled even while scrubbing the wheels of the firetruck and it doesn't hurt that the shift has been pretty peaceful. Maybe the higher forces Buck likes to talk about have decided to give them a break, for once.

Eddie goes to Bobby's office when he's finished with all of his tasks, and he's ready to just go back to the bunks and make Buck company on the nap he said he was going to take –by his own judgement!– but there's something on Bobby's face, thoughtful even if he hasn't said anything to Eddie yet, that has him stopping on his tracks in front of the captain desk.

“Thank you for taking care of Buck during these last few months.” Eddie blinks. Feels –without reason– almost embarrassed. “I know they weren't easy on either of you.”

“Buck took more care of me in the first ones if I'm being honest.”

“I'll be sure to also thank him for that,” Bobby just gives him an astute smile. “There weren't many chances for me and Buck to speak recently, but I still heard a lot about him – and you. Hen said you were paying a lot of attention to him on calls these last weeks, and now I guess I know why.”

Eddie shrugs. “You know Buck.” Brave and selfless and too ready to take risks with himself. He has been more careful, but Eddie doesn't doubt that's still because he's thinking of something –someone– else.

“I know Buck,” Bobby agrees. He doesn't lose the smile. “Thank you for looking out for them.”

Eddie shuffles on his feet. Somehow, he doesn't feel so differently from when Shannon's mom had talked with him, after one of the pregnancy's first doctor exams. “We're really not together.”

“I don't doubt that.” Bobby imparts the words with a lot of truth, but that doesn't seem to sound entirely good. “It doesn't seem to be an impediment for helping with the baby. You said it yourself.”

“I'm always going to have Buck's back.” There's no reason for Eddie to feel defensive about it –doubled down at his sudden self-consciousness– but with how Bobby is looking at him, Eddie almost feels like he needs to get ready for an argument. Even though there's nothing about Bobby that suggests distrust.

“That has never been in doubt. But I think you and Buck should talk about what that is going to look like from here on out, for both your sakes. I'm not suggesting there's something happening between you two,” Bobby's quick to add, when Eddie opens his mouth again, “but with a child things get more complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well – Buck has to think about what name is going on the birth certificate, for one. You said you want to help – but how far are you willing to go with that?”

Eddie can't help it. He squints his eyes at Bobby. “You think I lied about that?”

He wasn't lying when he told Buck he didn't mind being thought of as the baby father (if Eddie's being honest with himself, the suggestion is almost gleeful), but with Bobby he still feels like there's an accusation of deceit.

“Eddie. I think if you were the father you’d be screaming it from the rooftops.” Bobby's deadpan doesn't help very much. “That's what you look like, when you say you're going to help Buck. You don't have to have fathered a child to want to be a father to them, Eddie.” Bobby's face grows soft. “I would know.”

“I…really don't know what you want me to say, cap.”

“I don't want you to say – or do – anything you don't mean.” And how's that supposed to be of help? Bobby just holds up a hand to Eddie when he huffs. “Just…talk with buck.” His eyes grow a little softer. “It isn't the first time you've worked together in taking care of a child.”

The door to Bobby’s office groans at the hinges when Eddie opens and closes it again, getting out, but he barely hears it in the exit. It's another thing that is echoing in his ears.

He blinks at the station’s main floor –hustling and bustling as usual– and has to remember he's actually at work. There are hours yet to go. Eddie will wake soon enough – he's good at that. But for a second too long, he just loiters at the door to Bobby’s office.

“Hey.” It's the first proper sound that Eddie listens to, instead of just hearing, the automatic way that saves lives – usually not his own. When he turns it's to Buck’s confused face, looking as curious as he sounded . He should be having his nap, Eddie thinks.

“Didn’t you go to bed?” It's a reprieve to have something else to think about; even if Buck, still looking closely at him, doesn't seem so ready to move on.

“I had to go to the bathroom.” The answer’s offhanded. Buck’s eyes are doing that thing they do when he's more focused than he should at a problem, convinced in sniffing it out like a bomb dog. There's no bomb to defuse though. There's just– “What did Cap want to talk with you about?”

Eddie's eyes soften. It isn't really due to calm, or reassurance. It's just Buck.

He puts a light hand on Buck’s shoulder and brings him with, walking in the direction of the bunkroom. “It was nothing,” Eddie says – and doesn't. Buck’s uniform is soft beneath his palm – the standard issue shirt he likes to wear to sleep, even if his is a size too small. Eddie’s thumb brushes across it – a better perception than Buck’s tired eyes, still ready for questions. “Come on – let's go to bed.”

It’s easy for Buck to follow Eddie. He blinks and probably remembers how much he wanted to be asleep.

“Okay.”

Eddie walks with him.

-

The fourth month carries with it another doctor's visit. It doesn't come as such a surprise to Buck that, this one, he doesn't mind that much.

The first time he went for a sonogram, two months ago, he wasn't sure about a single thing he felt. It might have been one of the most uncomfortable doctor consults in Buck's life –which says something, when he's been inside hospitals for longer than he even thought he knew– and that discomfort wasn't only over the internal wand, but everything that surrounded the exam room. He felt like he'd watched the ceiling of his life fall following the blood exam, but the sonogram didn't carry any surprise: Buck knew what he'd probably see and hear during it. That was what scared him so much.

He's not so scared now. A little anxious, but for the anticipation. There was a list of specialized doctors he’d have to follow on with the pregnancy, and Buck's distaste for hospitals did follow them , but the idea of actually bringing an image home from the ultrasound this time makes him almost giddy when he's getting ready to go.

Eddie doesn't make fun of him for it, but Buck can see him hiding smiles before he turns. Buck takes a while getting dressed, not sure if he should go with a jacket if he's just going to have to lift everything, but asking himself if going in his hoodie will make a bad first impression. Five months from now, he'll be coming home with a baby from the hospital. Buck half feels like there’s a group of people watching to know if they should allow him to keep the baby. Maybe there should be one.

“Just pick something,” Eddie tells him, the third time he walks into the bedroom and Buck's still sitting on bed, staring at his drawer of clothes in Eddie's dresser. It's grown since Buck –non-officially– came to stay with him. “You're going to be late.”

Buck groans. “Don't even say that.”

A snort.

Buck is still in his sleeping shirt – older than his relationship with even Taylor, but serving him well after Tommy's. It doesn't go well with the loose pants Buck has already put on, but the other pieces of clothes he's between are already on the bed beside him, the closer they've managed to get to Buck. His shirt is stretched enough that it doesn't bother Buck's increasingly sensitive skin, and it bunches up enough on his stomach that he doesn't have to feel too self conscious about it – not that that is a thing he already needs to feel. Sitting down, Buck at most looks like he's just had dinner. Eddie looks at him for a moment, Buck notices, eyes slipping to the bunched up shirt on his middle, but neither of them comment on it.

“Do you want me to pick?”

“Please.”

Eddie, like he tends to be, is quicker at the job than Buck, not that it shows a lack of care. He immediately picks up one of Buck's hoodies, dark blue, two sizes too-big, and with a thick but not coarse material, good for cold waiting rooms. He's gentler in handling it to Buck –reverent, almost– and doesn't say anything. Buck, not that he understands it, feels almost flustered.

“Thanks.” His voice is small. Eddie doesn't comment on it.

Eddie leaves Buck alone in the room to change, quickening his step when his phone rings from the kitchen – a song from that old 80s action movie he likes so much. The door doesn't close entirely in Eddie's hurry –an open sliver of the hallway left over– but Buck convinces himself that would be too much (or too little, he guesses) to feel shy about. He takes off his shirt.

Eddie has a wall mirror in his room. It's for exercising, to make sure he has the right form, not that it's been getting that use so much these last few months, but it allows Buck this without having to walk to the bathroom.

He turns on his side, though his head keeps on straight with the mirror. Buck isn't as slim as he used to be after bulking up, and he had the beginnings of love handles for some time, but he thinks he knows his body enough to see what's new, especially when he's been hogging Eddie's mirror so much. He’s tall enough that any change takes too long to see –that annoyed the hell out of him in the gym– but he’s almost sure that the slight swell in his lower abdomen, right in the curve to his pelvis, is baby Buckley.

He puts a hand to his stomach, though –as nonsensical as it is– he’s still a little too timid to let it come lower. It’s difficult to wrap his head around that he’s carrying something, and maybe that’s the reason he wants this ultrasound so much – visible proof. Mostly, Buck just wonders if the last confirmation will allow his hand to cup his belly, as small as it is.

He puts on the hoodie. It’s comfortable, and the fact Eddie was the one to pick it makes the fabric feel cosier somehow. When Buck goes to meet him in the kitchen he’s almost unsure if his cheeks will be pink – but, back ram-rod straight, Eddie looks so far apart from the moment they just had the hands pulling at the hem fall back down immediately.

“Eddie?” He was looking to the middle distance, though Buck’s arrival makes Eddie blink –a little wetly, Buck notices with increasing worry– before he turns in his direction. Eddie’s phone is still in his hand –mute, now– but he puts it face down on the table before Buck gets to his side.

“Hey,” Eddie answers back, stronger a second time despite the wobble of his voice at Buck’s worried face. “ Hey . No – it’s nothing serious.”

“What happened?”

Eddie lets out a deep breath. “Christopher called.”

The name is an easy way to pull all the air out of the room, Eddie’s and Buck’s, even as Buck knows it isn’t the same –it can’t be the same–on his part. That’s the complicated thing – there was a bitterness to every moment, since Christopher left, and it’s bittersweet now, even when Buck has something to feel happy about, as tentative as it is, because Chris is still in Texas. Still hasn’t sent a text back to Buck.

Still doesn’t know.

Buck isn’t sure what appears on his face –sadness, worry. Fear. He was never good at keeping things back, and especially not from Eddie, who reads him sometimes better than even Maddie. Whatever Eddie reads now, he shakes his head lightly. It’s more sad than comforting.

“W- What did he want to talk about?” A call from Christopher shouldn’t be just a bad thing. It has to mean something, for him to decide to call Eddie on his own, by his own decision – if that was what it was.

“He’s, uh. He’s doing a science assignment. Genealogy. They’re doing a family tree with a history of hereditary diseases.” Eddie’s voice goes quiet. “He wanted to know Shannon’s side.”

“Oh.”

A better person would immediately comfort his friend at the reminder not only of his estranged son but dead wife, but Buck’s stutters like an old computer, a clench so strong in his stomach he almost can’t remember there were butterflies there for the better part of the morning. When Buck does restart, ready to stammer some comfort, Eddie’s already moving on, a tired hand dragging through his hair.

“I, uh. I don’t know it perfectly, but…there isn’t anyone from Shannon’s family left. I offered to video call him later to try and help with what I can.”

“D– did Chris accept?”

Eddie looks away. “Yeah.”

“E-Eds! That’s great !” He moves into Eddie space to hold him by the shoulders, not that Buck is feeling steady enough to shake him. Mostly, he just smiles a little tearily at Eddie. “He wants to talk with you!”

“I know.” Does he? Eddie doesn’t look exactly excited. Buck does feel the urge to shake him then, but Eddie’s looking at him almost apologetically, and Buck doesn’t understand how until he continues. “The call– he says he can only do it in two hours.”

It takes some time for Buck to really get it. His appointment is at the end of the morning, some hours from now, and Buck and Eddie would need to drive to the other side of town first. Eddie’s included, because, until now, he’s the person who’s been with Buck for every step of the way.

Buck doesn’t feel betrayed – he wouldn’t ever be capable of it, not with Eddie and Christopher. What he does feel is a pang in his chest. Two things that aren’t –never were– his to keep. Buck’s as excited for Eddie as he’s sorry for himself.

“T-that isn’t going to be a problem. I can call Maddie. I can go alone,” Buck adds last, when he actually remembers that there’s nothing that requires company beside his own need for it, which he’s not obligated to feed. Eddie keeps looking brokenly, and Buck squeezes his shoulders. “Eddie. This is good news.”

“I just. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Buck’s brow curl.

“It’s your kid, Eddie.”

They’re still standing together in the kitchen. There’s no reason to feel alone. Still, that’s what Buck does. The words –as truthful as they are– leave him with a bitter feeling, even though it's him saying them, and it doesn’t help that Eddie doesn’t look even a little bit comforted.

“Yeah,” Eddie's throat bobs.

He looks alone too, even with Buck’s hands still on his shoulders. Buck finally makes them let go.

-

There’s no reason for Buck’s chest to still feel tight hours later, leaving the clinic, and he feels silly the longer that it keeps that way.

He’s happy – if partially so. It would be hard not to carry some joy. Maddie is always good company. He didn’t get to do this with her, when it was her turn –lockdown came about a month after Maddie told everyone she was pregnant, and every stage of his niece’s fetal development had to be watched from facetime– and it’s actually really good to have her with him. Not only because Maddie has the personal experience of what Buck is going through, but, most of all, because she’s his big sister. It’s hard to feel anxious when she’s holding his hand.

An external ultrasound is much more comfortable than that stupid wand. Buck would rather die than experience that again with Maddie for company, actually, and so the win is well deserved. The technician isn’t as gentle as the last one –this one is a little too excited– but Buck gets to watch the screen and take home photo copies, as well as a lot of brochures, and each one of them made him almost mute with how much he was feeling.

In a comparative fruit spread, Buck’s got an avocado. He never liked the taste, but now he wants to buy one just on a whim – to look at, to hold in his hand. The white shape on the monitor looked like a baby, real and alive, much more active than Buck would expect from a fetus, and he’s man enough to admit the proof of it all made him feel a little nauseous – the good kind, he’s pretty sure.

Maddie didn’t drive them. After leaving Eddie’s house, Buck was the one that picked her up from her and Chimney’s place, even after a pretty last-minute message that she still went fully on board. It’s probably counterproductive now, when, after everything, Buck’s hands feel too shaky. Maddie has to take on the wheels of her old jeep to bring him home. To Eddie’s house. Buck keeps changing up the names.

“Hey.” Maddie looks at him in one of the many, many red lights. It’s almost nostalgic to see her like this: driving Buck, and checking up on him. Years and years ago, this was the same car that she gave him to escape Hershey. “How are you doing?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked him that today. The answer keeps mostly the same.

“Uhm– you know sky-diving?”

“No”, Maddie smiles at him. It gets a snort from Buck.

“Me neither. Or, I guess not personally. I think this is what those people must feel though, looking out of the plane.” Buck takes a big breath, and gives out an even bigger exhale. “ Fuck , I’m going to have to think on names.”

Maddie laughs. It’s too easy to join her, and easy to feel good too. Except, there’s still another part of his heart that gives these aches.

Buck asked for five copies – the negative contrast of his avocado-baby, glossy and palpable in the print paper. One copy for him, one for Bobby, one for Hen, one for Maddie and one– one for Eddie.

Maddie is going to take hers and share it with Chim. It felt silly to give one just to him when they live in the same house – the same thing with Bobby and Athena, Karen and Hen. With Eddie, though, even living together –kinda (they’re not talking about it)– there was a suggestion about sharing the same copy, like their married friends, that had Buck asking for another one at the last minute, feeling his cheeks burn. If Maddie noticed –if she’s noticing it even now– her mouth keeps quiet.

Maddie stops in Eddie’s driveaway. She looks at him for a moment, as full of love as when Buck was seven and half her size. Raising a hand to cup his cheek, Buck feels that age again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Maddie brushes her thumb beneath Buck’s eye once and then twice, before squeezing his cheek gently and –slowly– letting go.

Buck’s ready to give her a hug goodbye and get out of the car until he actually remembers that, in fact, the jeep is his.

“Wait. I picked you up.”

Maddie chuckles. “I can uber, Evan.”

“I suck as a chauffeur.”

“Good thing you’re a firefighter. Come on. I want to walk my little brother home.”

Maddie leaves him by the front door with a last kiss to his cheek – the one she had cradled. The ride app pings fast enough, and at least Buck doesn’t have to worry entirely about leaving his sister on the side of the road.

He still waits by the door until she gets into the uber –” You already walked me home, I’m literally inside, come on, ”-- but it’s just a last second of waving before Buck’s closing the door behind him. Eddie hasn’t come to greet him and Buck learns why as soon as he follows the low timbre of his voice to the kitchen, where he’s got his tablet set on the table.

Buck hears Christopher’s voice –lower, so lower – before he sees him, but they’re two hits on one.

Eddie’s propped with his back right to the kitchen door. As soon as Buck opens it, he can see Chris on facetime. He has an adolescent’s face – his cheeks are thinner and his jaw is more pronounced, and it’s the same bright blue eyes Buck met on that tiny seven year old.

“Hey, Buck.”

It’s not the first time he’s seen Chris after– after he left. There was a call on his birthday, a few months ago. He didn’t as much as look at Eddie when he greeted him through that same tablet in the middle of Christopher’s birthday party, and he did even less to Buck. Buck doesn’t know if Chris even remembered that he was there, right behind Eddie.

He’s looking at him now, though. Almost– almost shily. Buck knew Chris as timid for the ten minutes it took him to warm up to Buck as he drove him and his father home, after the earthquake, and that expression is almost incomprehensible. Buck’s feeling his heart clench clench clench, and even then, there’s not a piece of shyness with how he goes to look more closely at Chris through the screen.

“Christopher! Hi!” A teenager probably doesn’t like that much excitement, but it’s that or the tears threatening to fall. “Jesus, you’re so freaking tall.” Each month gives him more than an inch, probably. Every day Buck’s missing things he’ll never get to see from Chris again. He can’t even begin to imagine how Eddie’s feeling, sitting quietly beside him.

Christopher looks away, a little abashed. He’s smiling though, and Buck keeps holding on to that instead of looking out for every tiny failure.

“I asked dad for help with homework. I didn’t know you were going to see each other.”

“Yeah, yeah. Eddie, uh, he told me that.” He glances at Eddie, sees him try to keep the same mask, and wets his bottom lip as he looks back to the screen. He gives Christopher a smile.

“Did I really run over?”

“What– what do you mean?”

“Dad said he was going to call me, but you’re already at his house. I probably have been taking too long with the homework.”

It’s not an accusation – it’s not even a rebuttal. It isn’t that Chris doesn’t want to see Buck, but simply doesn’t expect him. It’s not entirely undeserved; he has no idea that Buck’s been staying with his father every day since Christopher left California.

It’s not the only thing he doesn’t know.

“O–Oh,” Buck stutters. “Uh, no, take your time. I just– I came here to, uh, deal with. With something. Yeah. Sorry for dropping on your guys’ call.”

Christopher’s brow furrows. “Uhm. I don’t– I don’t mind it.”

The tablet is inclined in a way that mostly Eddie’s head and shoulders show on call. Pointed at the kitchen door, though, Buck isn’t sure what else Chris might have seen. It’s a paranoid thought. He isn’t showing – he’s certainly not showing through the thick hoodie Eddie picked for him, but everything only makes Buck feel like a worse liar. He’s not a very good one. Christopher is miles from home and here is Buck traipsing around thinking about avocados.

“Uh– thanks. I’m probably not going to be a lot of help, though. I’m sorry.” Buck gives him an awkward smile. When he glances at Eddie again he looks about just as sad, and not even that gives Buck a sense of companionship; he just feels bad. “Uhm, I’ll. I’ll go do my thing. It’s so good to see you Chris. T-text me? If you want?” 

He leaves them after Christopher’s small, “Okay,” less angry than the last time he saw him but nothing close to the happy kid that Buck knew. He mustn’t have been a lot of help in that department, running off the way he did, but the nausea feels like it’s back. Buck goes to sit by the toilet bowl, but nothing comes up. His stomach just keeps doing somersaults. Like his head does.

Eddie comes to him before 60 minutes. “We were already finishing up,” he says, before Buck can start to worry if he really screwed that up, but the help is only marginal. Eddie sits by his side on the floor and puts a hand on Buck’s knee, thumb driving circles into the fabric of his pants. “You’re feeling bad?”

“I think I just gave myself an anxiety attack.” Buck shakes his head – dispels that thought and the slight worry that shows up on Eddie’s face. “I’m sorry. I– I didn’t expect to see him.”

“It’s weird, right? It’s so good but–”

“So sad,” Buck finishes, voice thick. Eddie nods, face stricken.

“Every time he lets me see him he looks older.” He lets go of a breath. It’s a moment of silence, just Buck and Eddie on the cold tiles. Buck never knows what to say, when it’s like this – when it’s about Chris. He doesn’t know what he gets to speak. It’s almost a relief when Eddie’s hand stills and he raises it from Buck’s knee, offering to Buck’s own hand instead. “Come on. Your knee is going to hurt like this.”

Eddie doesn't take him to the kitchen. It won’t have any sign of Christopher anymore, and that’s as bad as good, so Buck’s thankful anyway. He’s not hungry either, especially not after all of that, and the couch seems like a more distant place from Eddie’s call with his son to actually be able to tell him about the exam. Buck hesitates for a moment, but that’s the expectation on Eddie’s face. He didn’t get to come with him to the doctor, after all.

“Everything’s okay.” Buck gives Eddie a smile. It’s small –a little forced– but the sincerity will come out eventually, when it’s stopped being tinted bittersweet. He clears his throat. “They, uhm. They’re the size of an avocado.”

Eddie smiles. It’s brighter than Buck’s, and looks relieved. Distracted. At least Buck has that to give him.

“Fuck.” Eddie shakes his head – a little unbelieving. No less happy because of it. “You’re…you’re not showing.”

“The doctor said I probably won’t until really late. The sixth month, maybe. But they’re pretty big. It’s a little crazy, actually. Do you, uh…do you want to see it?”

It wouldn’t be a question at any other time, but it isn’t lost on Buck the positioning in this conversation, right after Eddie talked with his own child. He knows Eddie, though, and it shouldn’t surprise him so much that he just looks excited at the prospect of seeing Buck’s baby, as best as they can right now. He sits right by Buck’s side on the couch while Buck takes the doctor’s envelope from his pocket, fishing one of the copies he took from the exam room, and Eddie receives it from Buck’s hand with no lack of wonder.

“Woah.”

“It’s a baby,” Buck nods. Of fucking course it’s a baby – but Eddie gets what he means. There’s something with an actual shape inside of Buck. They’re already growing even hair. “I got a brochure too. It’s filled with, like, these little facts. A growth chart and everything.”

“The fruit comparison.”

“Yeah,” Buck chuckles. “Little avocado. Well. Maybe not that little.” Buck looks fondly down on the image capture.

“You wouldn’t guess they’re already this size.” Eddie shakes his head a little. “Did you…Sorry.”

“What?”

“Uh. Did you get the sex? I’m not sure if that is something you’ll want to keep a secret. Shannon did, for a while. To the rest of the family.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t want to tell you.” Buck shrugs. It makes Eddie’s mouth twitch into something soft. “I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl though. They were a little too curled down to catch it. But maybe we’ll see that in the next one. The doctor wants to make it a monthly thing.”

Eddie looks at him. “I’ll be there in the next.” It sounds like a promise.

Buck smiles. “Okay.”

They take a moment just looking at the picture. Buck shows Eddie the brochure too. Four month growth: the baby is still scrawny; the baby’s skin is translucent; the baby is starting growing hair; the baby is beginning to hear. Buck wants to listen to jazz, or something; maybe then his kid will get the taste he –unfortunately– never did. Eddie is a big Miles Davis fan. Maybe they’ll have that in common.

“They’re already moving a lot. I’ll start feeling it when they get bigger.”

“I feel that’s going to be a monkey paw.” Buck glares at him –of course, he knows what the monkey paw is, wikipedia’s main page is bookmarked on his phone– but Eddie just laughs back. “Alright, alright.” His face grows a little pensive too – longing, almost. “Can you notice them already? The size, I mean?”

“You mean my stomach?” Eddie nods – Buck doesn’t miss the embarrassment on his face at the question, but he doesn’t mind it; the fact Eddie thinks about that. “A little bit. It’s not very visible. It’s easier to see in the morning; before I have breakfast.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Buck feels his cheeks flush. He raises his hand but pulls it back down again before it can touch his belly. “It’s…you know when, after New Year’s eve, before you go take a piss you’ve got like a whole night of drinking worth of bloating? It’s like that.”

“Your baby is a night of piss?” Eddie snorts. Buck can't stop himself from laughing either.

“Shut up.” He gives Eddie a slap on his shoulder and both of them fall backwards against the couch, still looking at each other. “You were the one that asked about it.”

Eddie blinks leisurely at him. “I did.”

There’s no reason for it. There’s no reason for it but– Buck feels something thicken inside of his throat, and he clears it, feeling his Adam’s apple bob up and down, a trackable movement though Eddie’s eyes are stuck on his pink face.

“Do you want to see it?” It leaves Buck in a whisper. Eddie hears it anyway. He takes a moment to answer, but Buck knows what it’ll be already.

“Yeah.”

Eddie follows him into the bedroom. They can do it in the living room; it’s nothing that should take too long and really, they’re the only ones in the house. The bedroom is almost too intimate, but it’s still where Buck goes, something fluttery on his chest as he makes his way through Eddie’s hallway, though he tries not to think about that feeling.

This isn’t, strictly speaking, anything weird. When Buck lived in a frat house, most of the guys showed each other their ripped stomachs: six packs, and months-worth of gym memberships. This is a little like that. Maybe. Probably not.

Eddie sits down on the edge of his bed while Buck keeps standing, and waits for him. For once, Buck isn’t sure what Eddie’s actually thinking of. Eddie’s eyes keep intently on him, eyelids almost halfway shut, and it’s been a long time since Buck took someone to bed; this is kind of frying his head with mixed signals. His next shower will probably take some minutes longer, but Buck shouldn’t be thinking of that in front of his best friend, while showing his –barely there– baby belly. Buck knows that, at least.

He takes the hem of his hoodie and pulls it up his body, falteringly. He’s not trying to make a show, but maybe that’s what the slowness resembles – yet another reason for him to go pink. Outside the house, the climate is pretty mild, and Eddie’s AC unit is turned off for now, but Buck still feels his skin tingle against what must be cold. It’s the change of temperature: from a cosy hoodie to a bare chest, and Buck doesn’t shiver, but his skin does perk up. He feels self conscious, almost, when he folds the fabric of his hoodie and gives it to Eddie to hold –hands unsteady– but even more insecure when he’s just standing in front of him, shirtless, even if they’ve done that countless times before.

Buck hasn’t done it since he knew he’s pregnant though. Maybe that’s it. Maybe it has nothing to do with the touch of Eddie’s gaze, the way Buck feels it almost bodily. Eddie isn’t glaring or staring – his eyes are soft, beneath the intentful attention – and he knows there’s nothing he needs to be scared of showing Eddie. Out of everything, this is one of the safest things for him to see.

“Can you turn?” Eddie puts Buck’s hoodie beside him on the bed, freeing up his hands, and Buck swallows thickly. He does turn; it’s an imitation of this morning when he looked at himself in the mirror, except Eddie’s the only one looking at him this time. He raises a hand slowly, letting Buck see it before he makes any move, but it doesn’t stop Buck’s breath from stuttering out of him when Eddie’s wide palm finally touches his stomach. It’s warm and callused, and Buck looks at the way Eddie’s forefinger reaches his belly button while the thumb stretches right down to the edge of his pants. Eddie’s hand is big. It cradles Buck’s slight swell entirely.

“I already had breakfast. And a snack.” Buck’s voice fails a little. He has to clear his throat again. It’s probably not easy to really see or feel anything that’s just baby, is what he means, and Eddie must understand it. He shakes his head.

“I can see it.” His thumb brushes gently through Buck’s skin, catching a little at the wiry strands of his belly hair. It’s far too easy to imagine Eddie’s hand through any of the following months, curving alongside Buck’s belly. Cradling the head of his baby.

Buck wets his lips. Taking a slight step back, Eddie lets him go.

He raises his head back to Buck, and watches him with the same exact expression. Buck wishes Eddie would be the first to speak. When he doesn’t, Buck’s the one forced to string something together.

“Did you already have lunch?” It’s a good enough distraction. Eddie’s hand falls from the air, and Buck finishes backing off. “Want me to make us something?”

Eddie’s throat silently bobs.

“Sure.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Buck.”

“Yeah?”

When he turns, stopping the shopping cart, Eddie is wordlessly holding up an avocado in the middle of the vegetable aisle.

“Shut up,” Buck giggles. There had already been a smile on Eddie’s face, but it stretches at the sound. He gives a big motion with the avocado.

“It’s on sale, if you want.”

“You hate avocados.”

“I kind of think they’re pretty cute now.”

Buck shakes his head amusedly. Even still, when Eddie crosses the aisle toward him and the shopping cart he sets the avocado down over a full packet of yogurt. Buck doesn’t comment on the shape of Eddie’s hand around the fruit.

The supermarket is beautifully empty. At least shift work has that working for itself: whenever they leave the station after overtime, Buck –and Eddie– get to find almost no people whenever they go.

There’s still some hours for the stores to close and they’re finishing with their groceries. There have been recommended additions; Chim has been sending Buck most of the Best things to eat while pregnant! lists he had saved up for Maddie, and Hen has her own recommendations since Buck still had some potassium build-up in his blood. Bobby sent him a photo of a box of tea that’s good for nausea, and Buck realized it was the same Eddie had bought him weeks before, and still kept doing: Buck texted Bobby as much. He left Buck on read. That probably means nothing.

The shopping cart is not very full. Buck and Eddie have lost the routine of buying things for the whole month, the way Eddie did when he still had a growing boy at home. Mostly, now they just go to the store when whatever they have starts drying up; which isn’t that much, anyway, when most of their meals are at work. Bobby’s return has never been more welcome – Buck thinks he’s already won four new pounds. When he thinks it’s for the baby it’s hard to feel bad about it.

Despite the hour, Buck’s phone still pings once and twice. The contacts from the 118 –and Maddie– aren’t new, and neither are their gentle hovering; but the number with a picture of a scuffed Texas’ school mascot, big bobcat head that looks more like a dog, is.

Chris 💜 [21:13]

[photo attachment]

i did this project last month

My phone [21:17]

woah! that looks great buddy!

Chris 💜 [21:17]

it was alright

i got a 70

grandpa’s not very good with hammers

My phone [21:17]

*i* would give it a 100

shouldn’t you be sleeping rn tho?

Chris 💜 [21:17]

old man buck

He shakes his head, smiling down at the screen. Face stuck on it, just one hand on the shopping cart, Buck would be in danger of running over an old lady, but the late hour also has that working out for him. He isn’t sure he’ll stop smiling at his phone anytime soon. Even when Eddie calls his attention, Buck still is with the same smile.

“It’s Chris,” he answers Eddie’s wordless question. Eddie gets it immediately. He doesn’t come to see Buck’s phone, but there’s something happy in him too. Something bittersweet.

“Shouldn’t he be asleep?” Buck snorts.

“I said the same thing. He called me an old man.” Eddie shakes his head – still, he’s smiling the same as Buck. “He got a 70 in a school project,” he tells Eddie.

“The family tree?”

“No – it’s a model. Looks like a water mill.” Buck’s voice grows soft. “He used hair gel for the water.”

Eddie’s face quietens into something similar.

“Smart kid,” he whispers.

When Chris was little, his contact on Buck’s phone was a photo of them two in the zoo – a week after the tsunami. After Eddie let him use messaging apps – for family and school only– and Chris could pick his own picture on them, he started using a lot of video game characters. Buck wonders what videogames he’s in now. He wonders how loud he laughed when he saw that fucked-up looking mascot.

He and Eddie go quiet for almost three aisles. Buck sees some of the food Christopher likes walking through some of them; stuff he might not anymore. The sugary cereal that’s been his favorite since he was nine years old, the sweet and sour gummy worms Eddie only let him have on weekends because of the amount of –weirdly– sodium, the marshmallow shaped like vampire teeth he and Buck wore on Halloween once. Christopher had his fourteen-year birthday in Texas – it’s hard to know what he still likes now. Buck didn’t know what even was the flavor of his cake.

He tries to focus on the image of the avocado on the shopping cart instead. Every little organic product that Eddie hates but still puts down beside it for Buck, more than he used to buy before. The way the lights from the supermarket make Eddie look soft with his work-rumpled hair and the mustache he hasn’t groomed since this morning. Eddie has never stopped looking like a father, even with his son far away. Buck wonders what people see, looking at the both of them.

Eddie puts the shopping items on the check-out while Buck talks with the clerk. It’s his time to pay this week and Eddie only grumbles a little when he sees Buck take out his credit card. The clerk doesn’t look too amused at them, which, at the end of a late night shift, Buck can’t blame them. Eddie carries the bag but Buck’s the one to drive them home in the truck. In the passenger seat, Eddie looks lost in thought for a moment.

“Uhm, hey,” he starts, after some consideration. “When we get h– when we get to the house, there’s something that I want to talk to you about. It’s nothing serious,” Eddie rushes to add, “just…something I’ve been thinking about.”

“O–kay,” Buck enunciates slowly. He can’t really look at Eddie while driving, but the want is there.

“Don’t stop paying attention to the road.”

“I won’t!” You were the one that dropped this right now, Buck thinks. He drives them home slowly and safely.

Buck’s half-expecting to be having a couch conversation, but Eddie just starts bringing the groceries into the kitchen. It’s not a kitchen conversation either though – not really. They have stocking as a buffer, and maybe that’s Eddie's intent. Buck doesn’t know if it’s for his own sake, or Buck’s.

Eddie starts talking while putting away store-bought Kombucha ( chim [07:52]: u’ll thank me later!! ). “I saw a crib online. I’ve been looking, I guess. I know it’s still early –and you’re the one that’ll have final say– but I like getting things ready. You know me.”

“I know you,” Buck agrees. Eddie isn’t looking at him – Buck still gets to see the nerves on his shoulders.

“I’ve just been thinking about. About where the crib will be, after we– after you buy one. Here or the loft.” Eddie shrugs, but the neutrality doesn’t last long – he’s raising his eyes to Buck in a moment, something shining in it. “I know you haven’t been to it in a while, but…”

The space is left by Eddie for Buck to answer for him –if he’s going back to the loft at all– but Buck’s not sure himself. He had one reason to stay with Eddie before; now, he’s got several. It’s hard to give them much order.

It’s harder to find one when Eddie is talking about Buck’s housing. He’s not the brightest, but– but it’s a suggestion of choice, right? It’s an offer, or at least the beginning of one. Where the crib will stay, where Buck will. Where will the baby.

“I’m– not sure yet.” Buck loses any pretext of putting away the groceries. Eddie has already lost his; with the last bottle of Kombucha in the fridge, he’s just closed the door and leaned against it, big brown eyes fully on Buck.

“The stairs aren’t very safe. Going up and down with a baby.” It’ll take longer for the baby to be able to crawl up and down on their own –a danger in itself– but Buck will be having to go up the stairs and down again on a daily basis, no matter where they’ll sleep. He’s just got one bedroom too.

Eddie has two.

Buck never wants to change the second one.

Maybe that’s why his stomach wraps itself in knots so strongly. The base suggestion –living with Eddie, officially, for once– has nothing bitter in it, but the rest is almost enough for Buck to feel nauseous again. Eddie’s moving on in the conversation, calm enough, but it’s like the whole weight of Christopher’s room falls onto Buck’s chest.

“I know there isn’t much space here – and I don’t want to step on your toes, but we can figure that out. We’re already sharing the, the bed, but, uh, if you want to I can–”

“Eddie. I can’t.”

That stops him fast enough.

“What?” Eddie looks like he’s just been slapped. It hurts Buck to have to see – but it doesn’t hurt as much as what Buck’s thinking about.

“I can’t– We can’t put the baby in Christopher’s room.”

“W– What? ” Eddie’s voice is stronger now, a mixture of simple confusion and what sounds close to devastation, and the last one isn’t so far from what Buck’s feeling. “No – nonono. That’s not– that’s not even… What are you talking about?”

“There isn’t much space here,” he repeats. Eddie’s face turns so fast between so many things, Buck almost feels vertigo. The sureness that he ends in though –as devastated as it still is– is fierce.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I would never… No. No . That’s Christopher’s– the room is staying for him to get back to. I was thinking about the baby being with you in the bedroom. My bedroom. Your bedroom. If it got too cramped, I was going to suggest that I sleep on the couch.”

Buck sniffles out an “Oh”. He wants to fall back into a chair with the relief that courses through him.

Though Buck stays by the counter –on his feet; for now– Eddie leaves his side of the kitchen to come to him. He doesn’t touch Buck, but it’s clear that he wants to. Buck’s almost sad he won’t.

“Hey, hey. Why would you– why did you think that? Was it something that I said, or…”

“No. No. I’m– I’m being stupid. It’s just…I don’t know what to think.”

“Buck?”

“You still haven’t brought him back, Eddie.” He didn’t want to say that. Buck hasn’t for close to six months now, and he still feels like absolute shit as the words leave his mouth. He doesn’t deserve to feel that defensive over this. What Eddie decides iss what goes. And yet– “He’s still there.”

Eddie’s eyes look the size of saucers. Buck can’t look at him – he doesn’t know if Eddie’s heartbroken or angry. He doesn’t know what he’d prefer.

Eddie’s not quiet for long, but Buck feels every second last a year. Maybe he really should sit down after all.

“I need to give him space.” Buck shakes his head –to himself– but Eddie is still going. “He– he left because of me . He has to come back for himself. Hey – look at me. I can’t force him this time, Buck.”

“He’s fourteen .”

“Exactly. I can’t treat him like a baby.”

“He’s your baby, Eddie. How can you–” Buck groans. This can’t be an argument. This can’t be an argument from him. Buck doesn’t get a say; not with Chris.

He knows Eddie has been devastated. More than anyone – he knows. He knows that it isn’t that Eddie doesn’t care; Eddie cares too much. It’s far too easy for him to be scared of making a mistake, after everything. Buck doesn’t want Eddie to be scared. He just wants –

“I wish he was here,” Buck finishes. It sounds painfully lame. He brings a hand through his face, feeling exhausted, and wishes that both of those things could be wiped from it before anyone could see. All he does is wish.

“I do too,” Eddie tells him. Of course he does – Buck knows that. He nods again, just as lamely, and walks away to sit down on the table after all. His body feels dressed wrong. “Everyday. Everyday I wish that he was back in that bedroom.”

Buck knows that. He keeps nodding –doesn’t look up– but it’s all motions at this point.

“I know.”

Buck knows the feeling intimately.

Eddie doesn’t follow him to the table. He keeps by the bags of groceries.

They’ll go back to it – in a moment. It sucks that Buck can’t feel the bottom of his stomach but there’s still bread to be put away.

–

Maddie gives Buck Jee’s newborn clothes. They were all already bought by the point she learned that she was going to have a girl, so the clothes are neutral enough: a lot of yellows and light green, onesies –sleeved or not– that are practically the size of Buck’s palm. He tries to imagine a baby wearing them. Blonde or brunette. Blue or brown eyes.

Tommy and Eddie have the same hair and eye color. Maybe the baby will end up looking like Eddie. Maybe they’ll be all Buck – and, coincidently, look like Chris.

Buck stops the picturing after a moment. Anyway, the clothes won’t be Jee’s anymore.

“Okay, honesty be due,” Maddie starts, after Buck has finished worrying the onesies between his hands. If she noticed anything on his face, she isn’t showing it – Maddie seems a little preoccupied with something else actually. “These aren’t all the clothes we kept.”

“Sure.” Buck would feel pretty bad if Maddie had to do away with every one of her babygirl’s memories. But she is shaking her head.

“No. I mean–” Maddie stops; opens and closes her mouth. She looks nervous – when Buck really looks at her, some of that nervousness bleeds out to him, sitting up straighter on Eddie’s couch, onesies and hair and eye color forgotten for a moment. But Maddie ends up smiling. “So. I had to go to the doctor.”

That’s not immediately reassuring. But Buck looks at the shape of Maddie’s smile.

“Wait–” It stretches a little, amused –relieved– by what must be sheer shock on Buck’s face, and Maddie actually starts laughing when it only grows. “Wait– Are you– Maddie!”

“Yeah.” She hugs Buck back when he throws himself at her, chest jumping with laughter. “I didn’t mean to steal your thunder.”

“Are you kidding me? This is great news! Does Chim know – he’ll kill me if he hears I heard it first.”

That’s not so different from what Chim said when Buck told everyone about Avocado, Buck knows. Both times were true. And Maddie’s still smiling.

“He knows.” Her eyes are soft at him. Maddie’s first baby. It’s crazy that she’ll have a third.

“There’s four people on this couch,” Buck tells her, as soon as he has the thought. It bursts another laughter from Maddie, and Buck joins her too, only slightly embarrassed. “It’s true!”

Maddie brushes a thumb under her eyes, drying up a tear or two. “I want to see the crib,” she asks after recovering her breath. Buck smiles, flustered again.

–

In the end, letting go of the loft is spectacularly easy. Buck had been going there so little, recently, he doesn’t really have any reason to miss it. He doesn’t have a couch and Eddie’s mattress has had more use than his, so it’s softer. Buck only brings his bike and kitchen aides to Eddie’s house, leaving everything else to sell along the apartment. It’s a nice sum of money to buy more things for the baby, not that Eddie’s bedroom is that spacious.

The crib, for now, is the only thing in it. It’s by the wall with the new plaster – well. Old new plaster. It’s got some years to it already. Buck looks at the slight difference in color, the crib underneath it, and thinks silently to himself.

When Eddie finds him, he’s got sweat on his face. He insisted on bringing in –and organizing– everything that Buck brough from his old place. Buck’s not an invalid, but it was fun to watch Eddie get worked up about finding space for Buck’s stand mixer. Now, they’re both quiet – soft.

“Do you think some frames would look nice over the crib?”

Eddie doesn’t look to the wall. He keeps his eyes on Buck.

“Yeah.”

–

Buck doesn’t think he has any weird craving – in the general sense. When people in the station see him eating avocado toast for the third time in six hours, they just smile at him – when it’s Bobby, Hen or Chim, something indisputably softer in it. It’s Eddie that snorts at the sight every time.

“Shut up,” Buck tells him. If anything, it’s his fault. He was the one that bought that avocado as a joke.

“Didn’t say a thing.” Eddie shrugs. He continues walking up the kitchen and picks up two fresh water bottles. The second one is automatically given to Buck.

Buck wipes his plate with a thumb when he’s done, taking up every last taste of his snack. There hasn’t been an increase in his appetite – mostly, he’s just back to where he was before the nausea made him so unfriendly with food. He always ate a lot, even before becoming a gym rat. After living so long on his own, there’s a lot of value on freely given meals. He’ll never complain about Bobby pampering him; Buck knows he’s been making his favorite foods for meal time, and he knows that Bobby knows, but they just smile at each other when Bobby gives him seconds.

Second trimester is pretty great in Buck’s book. He stopped peeing so much – the vomit bucket has been stored once more – his feet aren’t yet the size of the firetruck. He hasn’t felt the baby yet, and they’re still not really showing, but it at least means that no one looks at him on the street, or during calls. The times he went into baby stores –just to look; sue him– the clerks asked him when his wife was due. Uh– around April , he said. He wasn’t really lying.

The bell starts ringing when Buck’s just put down his plate in the sink. He’ll have to thank the EMT gods later for letting him finish his meal – Buck follows Eddie down the stairs in quick steps, sharing just one look, until they’re in their turnouts and jumping on the engine.

It’s a water rescue. Nowhere too complicated, for once. When it rains, some of the thinner water drains in Los Angeles fill up enough that kids try to use them as pools before the water goes away; it works until they realize how slippery the walls on them are. They’re made to keep water in – it keeps people in too, most of the times. The alarm is low enough though that Buck trusts this won’t be a tragedy; Eddie presses a thigh to his own inside the truck, and he gives him back a smile.

They’re not driving to any of the usual places though. Buck doesn’t recognize the addresses by name – he just remembers them by the drive, places of reference through the other side of the glass. But the engine keeps going beyond where he expects it to stop, and Buck turns to Bobby’s seat.

“Where we going again, cap?”

“I’m not sure. Dispatch said it’s an old water park – it’s out of our area, but the 234 is answering to another call. We’re the closest station after them.”

“Wait– is it after Watts?” Hen asks. When Bobby nods, her face does something complicated. “I know where that is. The park never left construction – a security guard fell in one of the pools after a storm and drowned.”

“Do you think it’s going to be the same pool?” Buck turns to her. There’s something tight on his chest.

“I hope not.”

Hershey doesn’t have water parks. Unless they’d fill the pools with chocolate like that kid’s movie, they wouldn’t really go well with the places city council liked building for tourism. Buck’s experience with pools was limited to what friends had then in their yard when he was a kid. So he doesn’t really know what water parks are supposed to look like, but he can guess that it’s not this; the place is half skeleton, forgotten in the middle of construction, and what’s been finished just makes it look worse, with how dilapidated everything looks now. The main building is grey, paint completely peeled off, and every fun statue and water fountain has lost color.

There are holes on the ground where the pools were supposed to be constructed that vary in depth, but only the deeper ones have still retained water, just puddles by now. It rained yesterday in south LA – nothing serious, but water builds up. The city’s been humid, this week. The place smells of moss and mold, and Buck’s already plenty uncomfortable with the end-of-the-world look before they start hearing shouting. Running in its direction as the volume grows and grows, he’s not reassured.

It’s an olympic pool, one of the few pieces of the park that actually had work done – if not entirely. Buck sees the kid outside first, scrambling in the 118’s direction when they’ve seen them, but they’re not the one that’s screaming. That’s the one by the edge of the pool, kneeling at the bare concrete – no safe-guard or something against slipping. They’re screaming for their friend – still in the water.

They’re all Christopher’s age. Younger, maybe. An olympic pool can have a depth of three meters – the swimmer isn’t supposed to be able to touch the bottom with their feet, at no point – and they don’t even have the height of an adult. The pool’s deep all the way through, and this one didn’t have the time for its edges to be properly covered after the base layer of fiberglass: it’s a slippery material, made worse with the old moss that’s taken over the whole place, and it doesn’t come as a shock that a kid would have trouble to get out.

“He’s here!” the boy that came in their direction shouts and keeps repeating when he reaches them. “We– my brother and his friends come here all the time– I just wanted to show them–”

They’re all in their swimming clothes. One of the paramedics comes to wrap a blanket around the first boy, trembling from cold and fear, but the girl by the pool won’t let herself be dragged away, even if she’s just endangering herself by staying by the edge. It’s her cousin the one in the pool – he’s stopped moving already, no one can know for how long, but the time for guessing has to be later.

Buck’s the one most experienced with water rescues. That was a whole thing with the seals, and the LAFD liked that part of his resume the best; after the tsunami, the fact just seemed to be more cemented. Buck liked water – he learned to like it again, especially when it’s still something he has to do to help people.

He’s already toeing his boots off mid walk several feet from the pool. Eddie’s faster though – all throughout. Bobby was the first to follow the boy, and Buck has full view of the look he’s forced to share with Eddie, already hurrying in front of Buck. Eddie doesn’t need to say anything and neither does Bobby. He’s jumping in the pool before Buck can finish taking his boots off, and he’s left to watch: a big splatter of water with Eddie’s weight and then the disappearance of his shape beneath the water.

He’s not above feeling– something. More than one something, in fact. Buck doesn’t know if it’s insult or worry what’s on his voice when he turns to Bobby, shouting, “Cap!” but there’s something in it that’s making his heart hurt.

“Eddie’s got this!” Bobby tells him back, still fully focused in the rest of the scene assessment. The boy from before is crying from inside his blanket, crashing now there are adults close, and Bobby’s moved to the girl. She gets ripped from the edge, but she goes. Chim’s already stepping by Bobby’s side to see her, and Hen has the boy.

“Did you ingest any water?” Their questions are all the same; the field of concerns to bystanders in this sort of emergency. If the third kid drowned, the other two were in the same danger – even if they had been left standing. No one can trust that they didn’t jump back in the pool after their friend at one point either.

“Breathing is clear, cap,” Hen says, but Chimney takes longer. “This one has muffled lungs.” He looks up at the girl, catches her gaze.

“It’s my cousin,” she says – it’s answer enough. Once, Buck jumped into receding waters because Christopher had fallen in it.

He keeps looking at the dark pool, trying –and failing– to see Eddie.

“Buck, get away from the pool.” It’s a captain’s order. Bobby barely waits for Buck to answer it before he’s dragging him bodily, letting Chimney stay with the girl. “He’ll get out.”

He does. Eddie breaks the surface, a small body pressed against his shoulder, floating back first, so the boy’s chest and head are turned to the air. He paddles backwards, careful to keep the patient’s airway clear. Jenkins helps Eddie in pulling the boy from the water, right into the arms of other paramedics, and then pulls Eddie, slipping for a moment himself on the fiberglass. Buck would do it himself, wasn’t Bobby still holding him –even tighter– away from the pool.

“He’s not breathing,” Eddie tells it directly to the paramedics. He lets himself sit still by the edge, breathing heavily after swimming in and out so quickly. His hair is plastered to his face, a strand plastered over one of his eyelids; there’s water dripping from his mustache. “Lips are blue.”

“Starting rescue breaths.”

It takes more firefighters to help Chim and Hen drag the other two kids to the ambulance. They can’t see this. Buck can still hear them call out for their friend –the methodic counting of each breath and following compressions by the paramedic over the kid– and it just makes him more anxious at seeing Eddie still sitting by the drenched edge.

“Take him away from there,” he begs Bobby, and this time he listens. With a quick motion Jenkins is helping Eddie to his feet, careful with the wet flooring, and leading him away. Bobby just lets Buck go when Eddie’s far enough.

Buck will be angry later. Now, he just grabs at the lapels of Eddie’s uniform and keeps holding. A hand comes at the small of Buck’s back, wet and cold, and his breath rattles with the touch. The kid is still not breathing.

It takes longer than the recommended time for him to start coughing out water. It’s a muscular response, following the return of his breathing – the boy is still unconscious, and there’s already a blackboard and a stretcher waiting for him. For all the time it took for him to pull a breath in, now he’s taken away quickly. Bobby has already requested additional units. That boy is leaving first. Buck can only hope that Chim and Hen take the other two away from the ambulance before they see their friend.

Eddie keeps by Buck’s side. The kids’ belongings are still strewn around the pool. Shirts and shorts, phones, a volleyball that they must have been playing with – in the water or outside, Buck doesn’t know. Everything is wet and miserable, and someone will have to bring those things to the kids.

“I”m sorry,” Eddie tells him. Buck just shakes his head, eyes away.

One of the shirt is stripped. Orange, blue, white.

“Come on,” Bobby calls them. They’re finishing with the scene, giving space for the police, whenever they arrive. Someone will have to find a new way to keep this place locked up.

Eddie touches his cold nose to Buck’s temple once, before letting go. It’s another apology. Buck can’t answer this either.

–

Buck’s in the bunks when Eddie finishes his shower. Buck recognizes him by his steps: slow and measured, stopping a moment outside the room before he’s pushing open the door, careful. He sees that Buck is awake almost immediately; the lights are turned on, for one, and Buck’s not even laying down, sitting against the headboard of his favorite bed.

“Hey,” Eddie greets him, voice soft. He walks to him and sits by the edge of the bed. “I thought you would be here.”

Buck shrugs. “Bad conversation to have on the communal couch.”

Eddie gives him a smile, lopsided.

“Sure.” His face goes quiet again, considering for a moment. Eddie doesn't look like a kicked dog; Buck wasn’t expecting him to –Eddie rarely does– but it’s just additional confirmation. He doesn’t doubt that he was sorry, if only for making Buck feel bad. Eddie’s not the one to go back on his decision, though. If he means to do something, he doesn't regret it.

“This can’t happen again,” Buck tells him before Eddie can say anything else. His voice isn’t loud, but they’re both aware that this isn’t a request. Eddie can’t do this. It isn’t a shouldn’t thing. He truly can not.

“I know.”

“This time it was in a pool. But if it was in the Cliffs. A bridge…” Eddie sighs, but Buck keeps holding his gaze. The problem isn’t just his – Eddie had looked at Bobby, if only for a moment, and he didn’t stop Eddie from jumping first into the water either. This isn’t a conversation Buck is going to have just once. “I’m still a firefighter,” he says. “If you keep doing this we’ll both get in trouble.”

“I know,” Eddie repeats. Knowing doesn’t seem to do him much. “It’s just…”

“I know,” Buck copies him. He shuffles on the bed until there’s a place for Eddie to sit by his side, and Eddie follows him wordlessly, even if it’s a single and that they’re big for it as it is. As cramped as they are, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, they both seem to take a freer breath, the next time.

Eddie touches a hand to the side of Buck’s thigh, pinky reaching to the bottom of Buck’s stomach past the bunched fabric of his uniform. It’s a ginger touch – silent eyes on Buck’s belly.

Buck rests his head against Eddie. He closes his eyes.

–

Eddie’s talking with Chris when Buck feels it.

He hasn’t told Chris anything. It’s not a conversation to be had on the phone. It’s a conversation Buck hardly wanted to have anytime he was forced to – he wishes everyone could just know without him having to air his laundry – and it’s certainly not something he wants to tell Christopher when everything with him is still so frail.

They text sometimes: teen conversations, harder to read than the simple friendliness of a bright little kid. Chris will update him on El Paso with a neutrality that’s tough to understand, casual but distant: a friend that hates a thing that Buck just mentioned, rebuttals to references to Christopher’s old interests ( i’m too big for zoos now ), adolescent dryness that’s hard to read if it’s with Buck, or at Buck.

He doesn’t know if that’s only because Christopher is talking with him . Sometimes –Buck tries not to think like that, but he can only do so much– he’s not sure if he can still even say that Chris is his friend. It makes sense. He always occupied a strange space in Christopher’s life and distance was due to happen eventually – he just thought he’d have more time. It’s an incredibly unfair feeling, but sometimes he almost envies Eddie: it’s simpler with him. No matter the distance, he’ll always be Christopher’s father.

Buck’s just Buck.

Eddie has a call with Christopher in the afternoon. They’re trying to have more of them – even if there’s really not much to talk about. Eddie organizes his shifts so he’ll have a day just to talk with Christopher –for however long he’s willing to– and Buck will pick up pieces of them sometimes. He tries to not really show up during the video calls. Buck’s not sure if Christopher knows that he’s staying with Eddie – he doesn’t know how they’ll have that conversation without mentioning the other part.

Buck’s doing laundry when it happens. Really, he’s occupying himself – Eddie’s with the tablet in the living room this time, and it would be hard to walk around the house like a thief so Buck’s just not doing it. He’s folding clean clothes while the washing machine runs a second time, sitting down with an elbow on top of it to entertain himself, like he’d with the school bus in middle school: laying his head against the window and feeling the vibrations rattle through his skull. Buck has one of his own jackets in hand, one of those he hasn’t wore for a while, and he’s trying to remember when the last time was when–

There’s a sharp pressure in his abdomen.

It’s quick. Just a jab that goes away before Buck can even properly understand that it was there, but the quickness doesn’t help – his hands still around his jacket and his heart runs as fast as the rattle of the washing machine by his side.

It wasn’t painful. Not exactly – the feeling was sudden and strong, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything bad. Buck’s been waiting for the baby to move for a month already; he’s been watching out for flutters, and maybe this might have been a big kick just to keep him on his toes. Maybe this is what he’s waiting for. Maybe he should be feeling happy.

He entirely abandons the jacket and touches a hand to where he thinks he felt the pressure –lower? higher?-- trying not to let his breathing pick up. Buck’s not showing, not really, not yet, and his abdomen is just slightly harder than it was five months before. Now he touches it and doesn’t feel a goddamn thing. There was just that pressure. That pang. That stab?

Buck can hear Eddie’s voice coming from the living room. It’s soft against the rattle of the washing machine, the rattle of his heart, but he focuses on it with more anxiety than a sense of relief. Eddie’s close. He should speak with Eddie. Eddie’s talking with his son. Eddie’s talking with his son that doesn’t know Buck’s pregnant.

Buck’s phone isn’t with him. He can’t call Hen – not that that would be any improvement. How would Eddie and Chris react to an ambulance arriving at the door? Buck can’t call Hen, and he shouldn’t. He can call out to Eddie –no phone needed– but he shouldn’t anyway. Should he?

The longer that Buck spirals, he has the palpable knowledge that every passing second might be the worst of his life. The washing machine ends up running a full cycle; when the rattle stops, the pitter-patter of his heart continues, and it’s still going by the time Eddie appears at the door of the service room. Buck hadn’t noticed that the sound of his voice had stopped.

“Buck?” Eddie’s without his tablet – the call is probably over. His voice grows concerned in the single word of Buck’s name, seeing whatever it is on his face, and in a second he’s between Buck’s legs. It’s been more than a second since Buck felt whatever that was. “Hey– what’s going on?”

“Uhm.” Buck’s voice breaks. He tries to wet his lips, but his mouth is too dry. Eddie’s eyes are big. “Uhm, I. I– I felt s-something.”

“What do you mean something?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie’s not looking any better –Eddie is looking worse– but Buck doesn’t know what to say. He keeps palming his belly, but he’s not sure where to touch even when Eddie’s hand joins his. “It was– I don’t know if it was sharp, or, or painful. It just– it just happened.”

“Was it the baby?” Buck hates to see worry on Eddie’s face. Buck hates to see fear in Eddie’s face. “Buck?”

“I d-don’t know .”

Eddie takes a deep breath. Buck can see the mask rise on him: a steadiness that Eddie doesn’t feel but that he needs, or thinks he does, and that Buck is too cowardly not to want. Eddie keeps a hand over Buck’s and wraps another around his shoulder –a strong touch– and he’s nodding at him, leading Buck to his feet.

“It’s okay. We’ll go to the hospital. Just to check how everything is.”

“Eddie,” Buck croaks. “I’m sorry .”

That brings him to such a sudden stop Buck almost does fall from vertigo, half-way to breathless with fear. But Eddie’s holding him – no mask on his face this time, expression strong all on its own. Looking directly at Buck, he almost looks angry. Not at him – for him.

“ No . There’s nothing to be sorry. There’s never going to be anything to be sorry. Do you hear me?” He raises the hand from Buck’s stomach to his face, cradling a cheek. “Never. Never .”

As strong as Eddie’s voice is, Buck can still hear the tremble beneath it. Eddie’s expecting him to nod, but Buck’s face is still just as stricken, even when Eddie gives him a quick kiss to his hair, before bringing him outside the house. Buck’s lead around, to the car door then into the passenger seat, and the following hurried drive for the closest hospital, even if that’s not the one they usually go to check on the baby. Buck can barely pay any attention to any of it, from traffic to the emergency desk, and the way Eddie keeps trying to blow through everything.

They get a doctor that’s not theirs, and Buck hates meeting new people for this, but for once he can’t complain. He physically can’t – it’s like his throat dries up, and he can only squeeze Eddie’s hand, tighter than what must be comfortable, even when they’re setting up the exam room. The doctor needs space to properly check his belly, but even then Eddie keeps by his side, holding his hand. Buck doesn’t know if it’s him or Eddie that the hospital is entertaining.

The metal of the stethoscope is cold but Buck barely shudders at it. He just keeps looking at the doctor, the concentrated look on their face, every slightly twitch of their brow as they move the stethoscope–

“I can hear them.”

Eddie’s the first one to say anything, blurting out, “You can ?” so immediately relieved Buck actually feels him sag even through just the unwinding contact of their hands. “ Jesus .” He breathes out. “The heartbeat– it’s okay?”

“More than okay. We’ll do an ultrasound to check, but I can’t hear anything wrong with it. You said your husband felt a pressure?”

“He– he didn’t know how to describe it, we haven’t felt the baby yet, but he said it was strong. Too strong.”

“The first kick can be very sudden.” The doctor’s empathetic; better than calling them idiots, but Buck’s still only staring at him with barely held-back dread. “Some movements are uncomfortable, especially when you don’t know to expect them, but it’ll be easier to recognize when it’s just a kick after you both get used to it. You still did the right thing to come here. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Buck still hasn’t exhaled.

“So–” his voice breaks. “They’re– they’re okay?”

The doctor looks at him with a smile. “They’re okay.”

Buck’s not exactly proud of crying. He’s not proud of not being able to stop through the whole sonography, steady, loud heartbeats, as much as he isn't proud of any following sniffle he had in the car, during the drive back. Buck’s not proud of having dragged Eddie to the hospital, just as much as he isn’t proud of not having called Eddie for help first, before he found him. Buck’s so relieved, it circles back into desperation. He can’t even have dinner without feeling he’ll throw everything up.

Eddie forgoes his own food when Buck just keeps laying down on bed, too exhausted for anything else and still too wired to fall asleep. When Eddie lays behind him, arms wrapping around Buck’s body, Buck can’t even feel assured. I was afraid of calling you – he thinks but doesn’t say – and having Chris listen. I was afraid because he doesn’t know. I don’t know how to let him. I’m afraid of doing it. I don’t know If I’m allowed to.

Eddie must think he’s still just too run down after everything. He kisses his nape and doesn’t ask for any word. Buck kind of wishes he did.

–

It happens in the middle of the night – or maybe it’s just a dream.

Something –someone– cradles Buck close, presses against his stomach.

“Thank you,” the some- whisper from the other side of the world.

It’s not adressed to him.

–

“Oh.”

Eddie raises his head from the loft’s couch, looking back to where Buck’s sitting and watching Bobby cook. About four other heads turn with him. Bobby, across the counters, stops whisking their lunch’s sauce entirely.

“Buck?” Eddie asks him.

“Ah– no. It’s nothing.” He looks down to his belly, hand hovering. It’s a little more pronounced in his uniform t-shirt. “I think I just got elbowed.”

Ever since the scare, Buck has been feeling more movement; mostly small things, spread apart enough that he's typically taken in surprise every time. Those shocks are more pleasant this time, at least. Eddie doesn't want to see that look on Buck’ face ever again.

The doctor was right: it's better when you know to expect it. Even now, when Buck goes back to his conversation with Bobby and everyone can breathe easily, returning to their own things, Buck’s hand touches his stomach, if discreetly.

He loves the movements. Buck doesn’t say it, but Eddie has learned well enough this last almost-decade to read him without words. When there’s no risk of heartbreak, Buck gets downright giddy about feeling the baby. Palms splayed wide, he fondles the outside of where he felt them move while he watches Bobby cook, and Eddie can see the contentment in his face even from the couch. Bobby has full view of Buck and by the fond contentment in his expression, Eddie knows that he’s not too far off. Neither he or Bobby mention it.

It didn't take long for the baby to move again after Buck and Eddie’s panicked trip to the emergency room. It was less time than what took Buck to come back from the scare, in fact. Even after the doctor's visit, an air of nervousness surrounded Buck. There hadn’t really been any concrete reason for fear until then – the icy reminder didn’t do either of them any good, especially not Buck. Eddie, bittersweetly, could guess why. Buck had a tendency to blame himself when others were hurt. It’s not hard to see how bad it would be when he was the one actually pregnant.

A look of anxiety kept stuck on Buck’s face for three days. He was quiet at work, and Eddie just shook his head whenever someone looked at him with concern. Things were fine – it would just take a little bit longer for Buck to be reminded of that. In the end, it happened just right after they got home from work one afternoon, and Eddie was putting away their work bags – Buck, right behind him on the hallway, just stopped and let out an, “Oh.”

It was Eddie’s automatic response to look at him at any noise – especially now, after everything. But Buck didn’t look scared; startled at most.

If that was reason for relief –it was– it didn’t entirely reach Eddie, not yet, ready to just drop their bags to the floor if Buck’s face changed. There had to be some confused bewilderment on his own. It all fell away though when Buck finally met his gaze and said, “I think they moved again.”

The baby is flighty, Eddie discovers – it’s hard to catch them in the moment. Even in that hallway, there was just the one poke close to Buck’s pelvis, leg, arm, who knows. When Eddie finally crossed to Buck’s side and let his own hand hover over his, right where Buck felt the baby, there was no trace anymore. They would grow more active in the next weeks, like the doctor warned them, and Eddie would miss it every single time, even with Buck calling him.

“Eddie!”

The third time, Eddie was washing the dishes. They move more than once, but the distance between the kitchen and the living room couch was apparently enough for them to lose the enthuasiam. When Eddie had skidded on his knees in front of Buck, he was already smiling sheepishly at him.

“It stopped.

Once, he was in the shower, and hurried out half-naked towards Buck just to see him shake his head – and then snicker at the shampoo still on Eddie’s hair. Another, Buck woke him up in the middle of the night. Every time he came close though the baby would stop. Eddie would suspect Buck was fucking with him, didn’t he look so happy every time the baby moved, and then disappointed Eddie missed it.

There’s no reason to feel offended at an unborn child. Eddie doesn’t, much less at Buck’s unborn child. They could tap dance on top of his head for every day after they were born and Eddie would still find in himself to love them. They’d share that perk with their father.

He is, however, feeling– down, perhaps. It’s underserved, seeing as the moment really only truly belongs to Buck, and even more difficult to understand when Eddie keeps remembering not feeling Christopher moving either while he was still inside Shannon, and feeling something at the comparison. Between joining boot camp and officially joining the army Eddie hardly had any time with her when she was pregnant – not that it improved after she’d given birth. Eddie went four months without holding Chris, after he was born – nine months without feeling him. Five without seeing him, now.

Maybe babies just aren’t for Eddie.

It’s happy enough to see Buck be happy, anyway.

He allows himself five minutes of watching Buck bully Bobby into preparing a portion of his recipe with hot sauce in it, for him to splurge on, before getting off the couch. Buck glances at him at the movement, and turns the same conspiratory smile his way. It really is happy to see Buck be happy. Eddie doesn’t walk close enough to touch, but he still repeats Buck’s smile to him, and gives Bobby a look of commiseration when their eyes catch. Eddie can still hear him and Buck as he’s going down the stairs.

It’s hard to keep the mood up when Eddie has nothing to distract himself. He looks at his phone, the message Chris sent him in the morning about his grandparents taking him to see a movie later today and not being able to have his weekly call ( Of course, mijo – have fun! ), and the following twin unanswered texts Eddie sent his parents’ way ( Why are you making this so hard for me? )

Eddie already regrets the word choice. He can imagine the face his mom would make answering it – the look of hurt at the easily given accusation. Eddie tries not to feel like his parents are trying to sabotage him –he feels like shit immediately after about half the time he thinks that way– but it isn’t like they’re helping themselves. Mostly, Eddie just feels like shit.

He’d wish for the shift to be more lively to keep his head distracted, except Buck looks too pleased up in the loft, calm like, a week ago, Eddie briefly thought he wouldn’t ever get to see again. Maybe Eddie should just beat the shit out of a boxing bag instead for old time’s sake.

He’s midway to the gym when he catches the new arrival at the station’s doors. It’s not that Eddie doesn’t recognize him –he’d be a pretty bad coworker, and face-blind to boot to achieve that– but he’s just been so used at not seeing him, it takes a double take for Eddie to actually process who’s coming through the bay’s doors.

“Ravi?” He halts on his steps. Eddie doesn’t know if it makes the greeting better or worse that Ravi looks about just as caught off guard to see him.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“...Hey. I thought you…” Eddie doesn’t actually know what he thought. Ravi just went away after Gerrard’s assigment – supposedly, returning to the B-shift’s still open roster. He was smart for the change. Eddie just had so much going on, he’d forgotten to properly think about it. He lets his sentence trail off. “You’re back?”

“Maybe.” Eddie raises an eyebrow at the ambiguous answer, but Ravi is looking too unsure himself to be able to act coy. “You know where Cap is?”

“In the kitchen.” He throws a thumb-up over his shoulder. “He’s cooking.”

Ravi is all too happy to follow his directions. “Great.” And it must be – Eddie has heard things about the B-shift’s station-wide microwaved food, and Bobby never denies anyone a seat on the table, even if Ravi’s just come here to see that Gerrard is dead and gone – but then Ravi is proceeding to the stairs, and Eddie actually remembers who else is in the kitchen, and at least six pounds heavier.

His brain short circuits. “UH! Ravi–”

It does more bad than good to his efforts. If saying Ravi’s name stops him in the middle of the stairs, kind of shouting it also attracts attention, especially of Ravi’s –for a time, or so Eddie has heard– worst nightmare.

It doesn’t take long to hear Buck’s familiar steps, rushing towards the stairs more enthusiastically than Eddie’s heart appreciates. If Eddie worried more than he should about Ravi seeing Buck and the slightest gain to his waist, Buck’s been too content recently to remember to be self conscious. He’s thundering down towards Ravi before either he or Eddie can prepare for it.

“Panikar!” Buck at least doesn’t pick Ravi up, just wrapping him in a tight hug – Eddie can breathe a little easy at that, even if Ravi is smothered against Buck.  “Where’d you been, man? B-shift doesn’t deserve you – come on, Bobby’s making meatballs!”

Buck doesn’t let Ravi go entirely, keeping a hand on his shoulder as he backs off. It’s just a moment – Buck’s pulling his shirt down with his free hand for it to rest neatly inside his pants after it having ruck up in his excitement, a half-nervous habit and half-necessity when Buck’s shirts are tighter, when Ravi looks down. He follows Buck hand right to the slight curve of his stomach, resting –unconsciously, just for a moment, like Buck’s recently happy to do– over the small growth. It really shows up more in this shirt.

Ravi’s mouth doesn’t open with any noise, but he blinks and it may not be a complete realization, but it’s something . Buck does catch himself after all – Eddie can see live and in-person as his face falls, even if the mask over it keeps up. Buck’s smile stops reaching his eyes. It grows nervous.

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s more stuck or restless – as it is, indecision keeps his feet right where he is. Buck probably doesn’t even remember he’s there anymore.

Ravi does. After he’s blinked and neatly processed whatever he’s thought of, surprisingly swift, he looks between him and Buck with something hard to read.

“Congratulations.” It’s not unkind – but then, Ravi never is.

Buck’s more stuck than Eddie, in the end. He doesn’t even try letting go of Ravi’s shoulder, just gaping at him with badly hidden distress, frozen smile glued to his face. Eddie moves on then, even if he’s fucked if he knows that’s actually going to help.

“Uh– About that.” Why does everyone think he’s suddenly shacked up with Buck.

“Oh. Is it a secret?” Ravi looks around with sincere diligence. When Eddie finally gets to Buck and touches the small of his back for reassurance, he realizes that probably doesn’t help the second assumption. “Aren't you all always together? How keeping that is working?”

“Everyone from A-shift knows,” Eddie takes up Buck’s silence – probably not helping. Being honest with Ravi wasn’t his first intention –especially not when Buck keeps looking like a deer in headlights– but when Ravi is just so blasé about it it’s hard for him to keep up pretense. Still, he glances apologetically at Buck. “It’s just. Uhm.”

“You don’t really know how to talk about it,” Ravi surmises. He’s not that far off. “I get it.”

“Oh,” Buck and Eddie let out at the same time. Buck sounds more unsteady.

Eddie’s small squeeze of comfort makes him glance at him, but it’s just that and what looks like a thick swallow before Buck actually answers Ravi again. “You do?”

“I am actually younger than all of you.” From back in the loft, Eddie can hear noises from more people coming close; they can’t have heard much of the talk beside Buck’s initial loud greeting, but the 118 –especially the core group– is naturally nosey. It’s probably knowing exactly that, that Ravi keeps just as mellow. “And that’s what my dad mentioned, anyway.”

Buck’s face jumps and falls at once. “U– What?”

“Buck!” Chim calls from up in the stairs – Ravi glances at him, resigned, almost, but Buck and Eddie’s eyes keep pretty much glued to Ravi. “Stop hogging the ex-probie!”

Ravi shakes his head with something between defeat and fondness; even then, he glances back to Buck a last time.

“You’re fine, Buck.”

Chim physically can’t pick Ravi up –not legs in the air like Buck, anyway– but the intent is there. It’s much of the same enthusiasm that Buck initially showed, if only with a Chimney flavor. Ravi accepts it with the same amount of chagrin, as well as the rest of everyone’s greetings and Bobby’s typical invite for a meal. Eddie and Buck keep on the stairs for a moment, watching everything, kind of too frozen for anything else. It’s slightly silly – if not for their lack of relief, than for overlooking that Buck’s not actually the first one going through what he is.

Eddie brushes his hand from the bottom of Buck’s back to the edge of his nape, clearing his throat.

“Small world,” Buck finally whispers to him. It’s not how the saying is used, but Eddie agrees.

“Come on.” He pulls Buck with him. “Your hot pasta will get cold.”

Eddie doesn’t end up learning during that meal if Ravi is actually coming back to the 118 or just making a social visit. He sits besides Buck, too attentive at his sudden liking of pepper to pay much awareness to the rest of the conversation occuring at the table, aside from sending brief glances at Ravi – still just as Rav i as ever before. A polite young guy, who already always found them a little strange. Between everything, maybe this will be for Ravi the most normal thing about them.

Eddie’s still a little rattled, maybe, and Buck’s company is mutually beneficial, even if there’s not much talking going on, between them and Buck’s plate of food. Eddie’s content in just paying him company – except Buck’s putting down his fork and pulling Eddie’s hand in his, laying them both on the side of his stomach.

Eddie doesn’t get much farther than a raised eyebrow with Buck’s already prepared “Wait,” and then there is little time to actually expect anything. In just one moment at one of the corners of his palm, Eddie feels the slightest of movements.

“Is that…”

“Yeah.” Buck is smiling at him, as giddy as every other time. Eddie can understand the sentiment – the smile that catches on his face feels as strong as fragile.

It’s not a particularly strong touch. It is touch, however, and amazing enough on its own. Eddie doesn’t need any further confirmation that there is something growing inside of Buck at this point, but he’ll still welcome every one, especially this: a little flutter just against his palm. Eddie can almost imagine an underdeveloped hand coming into contact with his own.

Buck’s also looking awfully pleased however. The happiness isn’t just for feeling the baby, Eddie realizes. It’s directed at him.

“Did you–” Buck’s smile grows abashed, that typical curve of his chin, and Eddie feels something warm warm warm inside of his chest. “ How ?”

“Spicy food.” There’s still a drop of sauce on Buck’s chin. Eddie looks at it a little adoringly – unwilling to break the moment. “The internet told me it makes babies move in utero. You still hadn’t felt them doing it.”

They still are doing it. The movement is not as strong as a pointed elbow or a kick, just a flutter from where Eddie’s feeling it –probably stronger for Buck– but it might as well be a full dance, right at Eddie’s palm, quite literally. Eddie wouldn’t be able to stop smiling at Buck even if he wanted.

Thanks gets lodged inside of his throat. Instead, swallowing thickly, Eddie just looks back to where his and Buck’s hands are held together over his stomach, and keeps feeling. The sentiment is loud enough.

Chapter Text

“Hi, dad.”

“Hi, Chris.”

It’s not their usual facetime day – it wouldn’t be, when Christopher was taken to the movie theater instead, and Eddie received two answers in the general lines of ‘ Why are you always so suspicious, Eddie? We’re just taking care of Chris. ’

Eddie sorely misses doing that himself. There isn’t a thing that he’s unwilling to face again if it meant spending time with his son. As selfish as it makes him feel, he’d go back in time to be the one to talk with Christopher about his several girlfriends instead if Buck, if only so he could have just one more talk with him. Not that Eddie was a really good model in that department.

He hides all of this, of course. It’s enough to have to talk with the father that you physically put distance between on the phone; Chris doesn’t need to deal with Eddie’s troubles, when they’ve always been his fault. Not that Eddie should be thinking about any of this right now.

Eddie gives Chris his best smile and rests his cheek on a fist. “Did you have fun with your abuelos yesterday?”

He doesn’t let any malice get into his voice – Christopher wouldn’t be the one it’s meant to. But his son is smart –and polite– enough to still have his face show a frown, even if it isn’t him that should be looking apologetic.

“It was alright. I’m sorry that I missed our call.”

“Hey, it’s no problem,” Eddie immediately tries to reassure him. He puts more energy in his smile, though it doesn’t succeed in bringing something similar to Christopher’s downcast expression. “It happens. And we’re talking now anyway, right?”

Christopher is still looking dubiously at him, and his eyebrows twitch down further for a moment, but he eventually murmurs, “I guess.”

It’s hard to completely engage Christopher in conversation after that. That’s not exactly a new development though, as much as the thought makes Eddie feel down. Some days are better than others – it’s still an improvement that Christopher is taking his calls at all, even if that frown keeps on his face now.

He’s short on words about his new Texas afterschool clubs and shrugs in answer to most of Eddie’s questions, a withdrawnness that’s never easy to see. A minimum of one call a week doesn’t exactly help Eddie in building a rapport –last week Christopher was more talkative, but that’s what eight days do– yet whenever he tries to set up more father-son time his parents tell him of all the new things that are taking up Christopher’s week. You’d think they’ve sent him to a work camp.

“But do you like chess?” Eddie asks for maybe the second time, still just receiving a shrug from Chris. For all that Ramon talked up Christopher’s new chess club and tournaments, there’s not a lot of excitement to find in him.

“Abuelo says I’m good at it. He trains me on the weekends.”

Eddie tries not not to grit his teeth. “That’s nice. Send me pictures of your trophies, alright?”

The little frown between Christopher’s eyebrows twitches again. “There’s some on my Instagram.”

“Oh.” Eddie blinks. “I…didn’t know you had made an account.” He wouldn’t have, were he still in Eddie’s house.

Christopher doesn’t roll his eyes, but he might as well. “It’s private, dad,” he curls on himself, annoyed and awkward at the same time – he never looked like that in any of their serious discussions before. “You don’t have to be weird about it.”

“I’m not being weird . I just want to make sure you’re safe.” It’s the first priority of his life – he’d have to hope his parents took it as serious as him, and weren’t just purposefuly stepping on his toes. But Christopher keeps curled on himself, and Eddie forces out a sight. “It’s fine. I trust in you. Just– be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Chris grumbles. Nonetheless – his shoulders relax.

“Ok.” Eddie gives him another forced smile. “Now – can you add me in it?” Back to his distance, Christopher’s eyes flash with something for a moment. “I want to see your fancy tournaments.”

“I thought…” But he shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

“You thought what?” It’s Eddie’s time to be confused. It sticks coldly to his chest, more so when Christopher won’t look at the camera. “Chris?”

He just shakes his head again. “I’ll send you a friend invite; just do the same. I should have done that sooner.”

“No harm no foul,” Eddie tries to tell him, but it still sounds ashen with the remains of confusion in his voice. Christopher doesn’t react to it.

Eddie tries again, returning to the superficial chit-chat from before that he’s been locked in, as much as it rankles to know that’s the contact he gets to have with his son. “Are there a lot of pictures in it?” The attempt of levity sounds fake even to himself. Eddie doesn’t know if it’s worse or better that Christopher just sighs and goes with it, eyes back on camera. “I want to know how your…how Texas is going for you.”

“I don’t post that much,” Chris mumbles.

“Still – me and Buck will like to see you.”

That stops Christopher for a moment. “Yeah. Dad – is Buck okay?”

Eddie could see the uncertainty coming from a mile away, but that wasn’t the line of questioning he was expecting; it still sticks with Eddie in an uncomfortable way when he remembers that there is something Christopher currently doesn’t know about Buck. “Why do you ask?” The confusion on Eddie’s voice still doesn’t stop being sincere.

“Dunno.” Chris shrugs, but Eddie can’t mistake it for lack of interest when his brow is worried. “His instagram page is all dead.” It sounds like a pretty small non-sequitur, but Eddie still can’t keep from frowning at him.

“What– what do you mean?”

“I mean – we’re texting. And something he shows by accident on our calls. But I can’t see him. And he hasn’t posted anything since last year.”

There was little to post when he and Eddie were in survival mode – Buck mostly because he’d been taking care of Eddie. He’ll never let Christopher know about that though.

There’s another reason for the lack of any online activity, of course. Buck’s been happier recently, but that can only be seen in person; Eddie knows he’s not exactly comfortable with letting every person in the world know he’s going to have a baby the way he is. Buck’s the type of insane person that actually likes showing strangers what he’s doing, but, for once, he’s awfully offline.

“...Buck’s okay,” Eddie says, maybe a little too slowly. Christopher is watching him closely, closed-off face harder to read now as a full-blown teenager. “Everything's just been busy.” In more ways than one. And because Eddie’s an idiot, he adds, “His boyfriend broke up with him?”

“Tommy?” Eddie shouldn’t been surprised that Christopher still remembers his name – he was the one who actually brought the guy to his house, once or twice, as much as the memory rankles now. Christopher’s nose is curled at least, so maybe he wasn’t really that much of a fan – now, the only sympathy on his face is for Buck.

“Yeah.”

“Is Buck okay?”

“I just said he is,” Eddie teases, no heat in his voice. “You know Buck. He doesn’t keep down.”

That doesn’t seem to reassure Chris as much as Eddie thought it would.

“Do you think he’s going to date other men?”

“Uh.” Eddie doesn’t know why the topic takes him so off guard; why the thought makes his stomach churn. He’s not going to be dating anyone for a while, certainly. “You should talk with Buck about that.”

Christopher almost looks distrustful. As he tells Eddie “Okay,” he has the sense he’s lost a challenge he wasn't even aware of.

The conversation drags around for ten or so more minutes. Christopher mostly checks out of it, though Eddie returns to safer topics, but that’s not necessarily cause for concern now, unfortunately – Christopher just built a life that’s outside of Eddie’s. It’s Eddie’s fault that he’s struggling so much to bring his son back to his own.

He does get Christopher’s contact on Instagram. He has an account –as bare bone as it can be– because in his short attempt of dating before Marisol practically required it. It’s private, though there’s no photos, and that’s almost a relief – if Eddie had anything from last year, he’d have to delete it. It would just be a painful reminder.

Christopher’s profile is less of a bummer – though not that much. Something tastes sour in Eddie’s mouth at the thought of his son having an online presence, one he didn’t even agree to, but it allows Eddie to see him: photos with some of his new clubs, a day at the lake, pictures in what must be a chess tournament and another with other kids his age. Chris has new friends – new interests. A new life.

Eddie just wishes it didn’t take a screen for him to know about it.

There’s ample time for Eddie to torture himself about that before Buck comes home. The trip to the supermarket was as obvious an excuse to give Eddie and Chris space as one could exist, but it’s another thing they don’t talk about. Buck opens the door with Eddie still loitering on the couch, his turned off Ipad propped up on the coffee table. In a better mood Eddie would find his little eco bag with a piece of kale sticking out funny –cute– but that’ll have to be another day.

“Hey. Call’s over?”

“Yep.” Eddie groans off the couch, following Buck as he goes into the kitchen. It doesn’t pass Eddie that Buck just crosses the tablet’s view when he’s sure there isn’t a Chris to see him.

“Was it good?”

“He talked with me.” That’ll always mean something, Eddie supposes.

Buck gives him a gentle look. “You’ll get there.”

Eddie certainly has to.

“How was the grocery store?” Eddie moves on. There’s a gaggle of vegetables that Buck’s putting down on the countertops, more diverse than Eddie usually eats. They weren’t out of groceries; Buck’s buying is entirely extra, but Eddie hopes that’ll result in a good meal, or that it at least had already resulted in a good walk for Buck.

He dressed in one of his baggy hoodies –off now, left only in his undershirt– and the piece is loose enough there was no chance of anyone in the grocery store picking up a curve to his gut.  Eddie’s hit by the domesticity of the moment, sharing a kitchen with Buck as he puts vegetables away; it's not a new development, but it hits harder now that Buck’s shirts are stretching over his abdomen. The hoodie trick won’t work for long.

“Shopping was alright,” Buck answers Eddie. “The groceries are another thing. Prices to the roof! They had a sale on the produce section though.”

“I can see that.”

Buck fake glares at him, not enough to hide his smile. “Come on.” He starts putting his treasure away; Eddie can only follow his lead. “There’s a lot of dishes I can do for us this weekend to use all of these guys. And vegetables are good for the baby.”

Any mention of that is enough to take a load of Eddie’s back. “Yeah.” His voice is soft. Neither Buck nor himself comment on it.

“Was Christopher alright?” The question comes tentative but earnest all the same, as Buck tries to wrestle two cabbages heads into the fridge’s vegetable drawer. His next question is even quieter. “Did he enjoy the movie?”

Eddie sighs. “He was sorry for missing our call yesterday. Not as if it’s his fault – it's my parents and them running over me, as always .”

It takes a breath for Eddie not to entirely give way to anger, the way he truly wants to. The bitterness has been growing for a while now, after the grief finished running its course. It isn't that he stopped blaming himself – but Eddie isn't deluded enough he can't see what his parents are doing. At the first moment of failure, here they run in. He's still the twenty-one year old in his El Paso kitchen, angrily pleading with Shannon that he just needs some time . It's been a fruitless request ever since then.

Eddie closes his eyes instead of raising his voice, and clears his lungs at once. “Christopher is fine,” he finishes to Buck, lamely. Eddie’s not above grumbling the next part though. “He's on Instagram now.

“What?”

Buck sounds as incredulous as he felt, but the similarity doesn't make him feel vindicated. Eddie just puts away the stupid kale. “He also thinks you're depressed.”

“Wh– How, why– When did all of this happen?”

“ No idea. Except my parents figured out he should get on social media without asking me. And Chris’ been putting tabs on you with it, apparently.” At Buck’s bewildered look, Eddie explains. “He’s worried because you’re not posting pictures anymore.”

Buck shuffles on his feet; self consciously, he reaches down to tug his shirt lower.

“I don't even know where to start with all that,” he mumbles.

“I can't even think about my parents right now – so not them.”

“Alright. Chris…do you think he's, uhm, suspicious?”

“ Certainly not of that. He's just worried. He likes you, still.”

Buck’s eyes soften. “He likes you too, Eddie.” He'd like to believe that too – but right now, Eddie can only shrug.

Buck sighs. Although they only managed to actually put away less than a third of his shopping, his hands fall dejectedly to his side.

“I wish we could have a beer right now.” The despondency in his voice –entirely genuine– takes a snort out of Eddie. They stand in silence, for a moment – beerless. “Do you think I should tell Chris?”

“About?”

“Eddie,” Buck admonishes. He doesn't sound annoyed though – just sad.

What is Eddie supposed to say?

“It isn't the right time,” he tries, though it falls flat to his own ears. It’s a squeeze to his chest, the expression that continues on Buck’s face. “I– there's just so much going on with him.”

“I know,” Buck croaks. That might be the worst part – that Buck understands. He glances away from Eddie, hand coming to cup the top of his belly, though there's still little to do so. The gesture lacks all the glee it usually carries. Buck just looks anxious. “Do you think he’ll be mad?”

The question doesn't go above a whisper. It's slightly nonsensical – and yet, Eddie perfectly understands it.

“He’s mad at me ,” Eddie tells him. “It might ricochet.”

He knows that isn't all that comforting. It pulls a sad sigh out of Buck, and the sound goes straight to the feeling of failure in Eddie’s chest, more as Buck looks down – crest-fallen.

“I just wish he were here,” his voice trembles, though it doesn’t break. Buck’s hand keeps on his belly – a self soothing hold. Eddie wishes he could do the same.

I wish he was here too , Eddie thinks but doesn’t say. He doesn't have to vocally answer for Buck to know he’s thinking the same thing.

–

Later, Eddie sends a picture of him and Buck sitting at the dining room table and grinning with plates full of salad to Christopher. Eddie forwards alongside it the message, He lives . He sends it to Buck too, for safekeeping, and because he knows Buck will forward it with his own message to Christopher, probably a more apologetic text than Eddie’s – though there's no reason. Buck watches him send his own to Chris, eyes holding on the picture Eddie had chosen for his contact information, the same since Christopher’s first emergency phone. Younger and smaller than now, giving a toothy smile to whoever has the camera – Eddie can't even remember who was behind it now.

The table keeps Buck’s stomach hidden. Eddie tries to look like he doesn't see how Buck brushes a hand over the bump after the message, just as apologetic.

–

My phone [18:47]

[photo attachment]

hi, superman. your dad said you were worried about me and
the cobwebs on my instagram page, but here is live proof
of me living it with a plate full of leaves.

everything’s fine on my end. i hope you’re having a good night

and add me as a friend!

Chris 💜 [19:12]

it's called followers, actually.

My phone [19:14]

🥺

Chris 💜 [19:15]

it's done 🙄

My phone [19:17]

tyyyyyyyy

i’ll be ur mozt lowyal follower.

*most

My phone [19:42]

**loyal.

My phone [22:13]

good night chris ❤️

Chris 💜 [22:17]

gn buck

–

The day is meant to be a shit show right from the start. Buck is at the last stretch of month five –just at the back door of the second trimester, as much as that thought scares the shit out of him– and that’s when his Obgyn said the baby would start being more active. She was as right as wrong; ‘active’ sounds like an euphemism.

Every small movement Buck felt in the weeks before now look exactly that – small . The banging Buck wakes up to feels closer to the first movement he ever noticed from the baby, the only reason that he's not really scared about the intensity of it now. His doctor had warned him of this too, and he still feels a little unprepared when he gets out of bed with a tiny oof at the quick succession of three elbows to his ribs. The pokes wouldn't even be that bad, weren't they so awfully located.

Eddie can't help him, as much as he looks at Buck with sympathy after being thoroughly reassured that this is normal, actually. Buck gives him his middle finger when Eddie reacts first with a hissing wince and a good luck , most likely thinking of all the months left to go, but he's pretty on point. Buck is going to need luck.

More than he initially thinks, actually.

The first mistake is hoping for a calm shift. Buck knows that's not how things work; wishing to the point of necessity for something to happen a certain way is almost guaranteed to get the opposite outcome, especially when emergency services are concerned. When he and Eddie finally arrive at work, after battling early morning transit, they’re barely past the station’s doors before the alarm is blowing. Buck has to kiss Bobby’s breakfast goodbye, and hurry into his turnout.

In the engine he feels another hit to his ribs and has to cover up a wince; probably not a good enough job. Hen is looking at him as he palms where the baby kicked him and keeps holding their feet there, trying to will away from outside the ache he's feeling.

“Are they active today?”

Buck forgets about hiding it at the gentleness of her voice. Letting everyone in the engine hear about it isn't all that nerve-wrecking – it's Bobby, Chim, Eddie and Hen. They have quite literally seen Buck at worse.

“Pretty much,” he tells Hen. When kneading at his ribs don't help, he just cups the area. Come on, baby , he thinks. “Eddie’s going to have to coach them in one of those stupid sports.”

Everyone inside the cab is smiling when he looks up. Eddie turns away from Chimney’s pointed look, but he catches Buck’s gaze – with a soft look, he holds it.

The first call is big right out of the gate, but not that bad. A car accident with a resulting pile up in a mall parking lot – there was no velocity, no ensuing tragedy, and it's mostly annoyed people complaining at them and each other for close to two hours.

The second call –right after Buck has finally eaten Bobby’s food– is at a fallen power line, right on top of a waste truck; the driver is stuck inside until the power gets cut, and Buck severely hates the fact his sense of smell got stronger with the pregnancy. There's a lot of vomit on the sidewalk when the engine finally drives away.

The day progresses in pretty much the same rate of velocity, enough Buck wonders if someone from the B-shift said the q-word before leaving to fuck with them. It isn't call after call, but it gets close – and, Buck has to admit, he's not exactly as energetic as before.

The third call is at a school. A pulled fire alarm that ends up just being a prank – Bobby gives a stern talking to to a group of tweens.

The fourth call is at a bar, looking like a tornado ran through it. It was two guys actually; in need of medical attention now, after banging their fists –and the establishment's chairs– at each other. Buck isn't sure he's more at awe at two people picking up a fight at a bar in the middle of the afternoon, or that the place is even open at that hour.

The fifth call is an alarm in the middle of Buck’s nap. He makes a noise too pathetic for it just to be a groan as he's forced to get up, and Eddie, banging open the door to the bunkroom, looks way too gently at him.

“You can be man behind.”

“No,” Buck shakes his head. He puts his boots back on.

The sixth call is after dinner and the pause between them is deceptive. Buck’s fully awakened right now, too much to even think about trying the bed again –he had to go up a roof with Eddie, and rescue a Dad who tried to fix up the shingles on his own– but he's tired enough to feel it physically. Dinner doesn't help; he feels heavier, and ready to sit down on the couch and not get up. It feels less like mercy and more like pity that the baby has stopped hitting him for the minute.

The alarm bell rings right when they’re putting their dishes in the sink. Buck bites back a sigh; he looks at Eddie instead, and says, “At least there's no sink duty.”

The attempt of picking up the mood is cheap. Eddie stills gives him a fond smile.

There's nothing to try for levity again when they get on the scene.

It is at a cliffside – maybe Buck is clairvoyant. He coldly remembers the conversation he had with Eddie about rescues after the abandoned waterpark, and, looking at him –Eddie’s face with a stiff expression– Buck knows he’s thinking the same.

The place isn’t abandoned, but it’ll surely be. It’s just a vista, with chairs and, nearby, picnic tables overlooking the cliff; a service to the side advertises rappel, but the paper has corroded with salt air and looks old enough that Buck can imagine that activity has been abandoned. He can guess why: there’s cracks in the terrain, furling out from the border of the cliff. Tire tracks from a truck follow it right to the edge, and then beyond – a big piece of the cliff missing.

Bobby takes the front, as always, moving to speak with the caller –a nineteen year old with tear marks on her face– before assigning their tasks, but Buck doesn’t miss the way Eddie puts himself between Buck and the scene, though they’re distant enough that the terrain won’t also fall from underneath them. He’s walling him off – a useless attempt. Eddie knows as well as Buck –as well as Bobby– that they’ll need all their hands this time.

“We– we w-were just celebrating the, the end of finals–” The girl is sobbing hard enough to hiccup; she barely notices Hen put a shock blanket around her shoulders.

“Did you park close to the edge?” Bobby’s voice isn’t unkind – but they don’t have much time. The cliff’s quiet; Buck doesn’t know if the noise from the waves are covering the calls from the people that fell or if they really are silent, but each option is worrying.

“No! W-we didn’t park close. But I, I think s-someone hit the stick shift by accident when we were j-joking–”

The girl melts into tears. Hen leads her to the ambulance; she was sitting on the truck’s bed, and jumped as she noticed the car dragging down, red scratches with dirt and gravel on her elbows and forearms. Bobby surveys the scene beneath the girl’s continuing cries, trying to see where to put their own rappel lines. They’ll have to dangle down.

“Bobby–” Eddie starts, taking a step forward.

Buck takes two.

“Cap,” he calls over Eddie. He catches and holds Bobby’s gaze, adamant, when he looks at Buck first. “You know you’ll need everyone at hand.”

Knowing doesn’t seem to make it easier to Bobby in any way.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he tells Buck, and when Eddie opens his mouth, he turns to look at him next. Though Bobby doesn’t say anything, he communicates something just with the unsatisfied expression on his face. Don’t let him do anything stupid , Buck still finds himself hearing.

When Bobby follows on with the canvassing of the scene, Eddie shifts back to Buck with more worry than anger. That’s what makes Buck feel worse.

He raises a fist for Eddie to bump, giving him his most reliable expression, and holds the concern in Eddie’s face. “We’ll have each other’s backs.”

Eddie’s lips thin even further. Nonetheless, he bumps Buck’s fist back.

It’s been months since Buck has been strapped in. There had been less of those rescues, before Buck was stopped –non-oficially– being allowed in them. He doesn’t know if he’s missed the tight feeling of the safety line or not, but they still fit him snuggly – Buck knows how to fulfill his role.

They can only truly move closer to the edge and see what happened to the car when they’re strapped to the safety line. Eddie comes with him –obviously– but another one from the team, a paramedic, also gets sent with them to reach the car. Hen and Chim will have to know on top what they’ll be dealing with in the topic of injuries.

The car is silent, Buck discovers. It fell about half the way to the water, being fortunately stopped by a ledge that, however, is still slim enough that the right side of the truck is left dangling. The car and its passengers must have been rattled a lot on the way down; the former looks fucked. Buck can only imagine how the people inside it are, all too quiet.

The sea is loud. The waves are rougher at this hour, a lot of breeze at the edge of the cliff and beyond, but Buck focuses to hear anything beneath both of those noises, loud as they are, and there’s simply nothing to catch. No one in the car is well enough to call for help. It sends him, Eddie and the paramedic in extra speed as Bobby gives them the go-ahead to rappel down, Buck and Eddie moving first, and the paramedic following them at a safe distance.

Buck used to love rescues. When he was a probie, each of them felt like a scene of an action movie – and Buck, like an action star. It’s not that they’ve lost their novelty –each emergency is different– but Buck has grown from the time he needed some source of adrenaline to feel functional. He has friends – he has family. He has a baby inside of him.

Buck will never lose the need to help others –case in point– but he’s not blind to his family’s concern; he’s has concerns of his own, actually. He makes good on his promise to Eddie and Bobby, taking his time as he rappels down, and it is with a very concrete knowledge that, if Buck got hurt, it wouldn’t be only his injury.

The car is banged up when they get to it. It’s an old truck model – nothing like Eddie’s fancy one. The body is stiff and has curved a little on itself where it’s been smashed by the rocks on the way down; they’ll need equipment to pry the doors open, or have to pull each victim out by a broken window.

The sea reaches them closer here. Buck can feel freezing drops of water catch on his face at each wave, and the taller ones can even wash his boots. It’s cold – the air is cold and the water is cold, and no one would survive the current, were they to fall right down it. The people inside are bruised and bloody –three teenagers that look right now more like military soldiers– but as they start checking for pulses all of them are still breathing. It’s shallow though. Whatever concussion they’ve got, it has to be serious.

Buck can’t prop himself on the car, at the risk of making it slip any further. The cliff’s wall is slippy though, and it’s hard to find somewhere to brace your weight. Eddie keeps looking at him – he’s at the other side of the car, the paramedic besides Buck, and at each minor movement, Buck catches Eddie’s eyes watching him from over the truck’s roof. Look at the victims , Buck almost wants to tell him – but Eddie always returns to the job first.

“Cap, there’s three teenagers,” he relays over the radio. “They’re unconscious. All will need backboards.” As his eyes focus on the one on the backseats, Eddie fails to mask a wince. “Especially for the third one.”

The third teenager had to have hit the car’s roof and doors throughout the whole way down; they’re the most bloody, and Buck can catch at least one exposed fracture. That’s the victim Eddie and the paramedic start working on first, as Buck checks with the other two.

Another wave reaches the cliff’s shelves and the car groans for a moment, moving by it. Eddie looks at Buck, but it’s Bobby’s voice that warns them over the radio. “Guys, the sea’s unstable. Move quickly.”

The position is too awkward for them to try and secure the car by any cable; it would just unbalance it even further, and with the way the waves are riding up, they probably don’t have the time to try anyway. They all move quickly: Buck dangles around the truck putting neck braces on the two passengers out front, as Eddie helps the paramedic on securing the teenager on the back. They can’t use smelling salts right now at the risk of compromising with the rescue’s security, but Buck manages to wake teenager number one and two. He keeps his voice soft as he speaks with them – don’t move, you’ve been in an accident, we’re doing our best to bring you up.

“Where’s Cecilia?” One of the teens glance around – luckily, too bleary to actually move. The second one is practically still asleep, eyes halfway closed, but they’re not Cecilia – apparently neither is the other kid in the back. “She was on…on the truck.”

“She jumped out on time. She’s waiting for you back on the ground, don’t worry.”

“A-and Carly?”

Buck looks at Eddie from the other side of the car, feeling something freeze in his stomach.

“Cap, there was a fourth victim,” Eddie shouts on his radio. The waves are getting stronger. Though Eddie’s radio is tuned to Bobby’s, he just as much speaking to Buck at the second part – eyes not straying from him “She must have been thrown off in the fall!”

Buck looks down. There are several feet to the sea, a messy terrain that already formed the shelf the truck landed on, but it’s just too dark to properly see if there could be another one further down. The sea’s not helping. In all possibilities, even if the girl did land somewhere safe, she’d still have already been dragged out to the water. Buck knows this.

He refuses to glance up at Eddie when he also turns on his radio. “Cap, I’m going to check down.”

“Buck!” Eddie’s shout doesn’t get lost in the wind. Bobby must pick it up in the line, and still he ignores it, though he sounds just like an echo.

“Buck, do not rappel further down. At the rate the sea is banging on the rocks you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“The girl can be there!”

“I’ll go then,” Eddie starts, and Buck just looks up to glare at him.

“You need to move the victims. You’re better at managing field injuries than me.”

“ Buck .” It sounds closer to a plea than an admonishment. That hurts worse.

Buck holds Eddie’s gaze. “I’m still a firefighter, Eddie,” he repeats.

He doesn’t rappel too further down. Mostly, Buck just balances right at the edge of the shelf they’re on, and squints his eyes at the darkness, trying to see down on the cliff’s wall. “Carly!” His throat hurts at the volume of the shout – the most Buck can do against the waves’ noises. The flashlight on his helmet can only do so much, and he’s still terribly aware of Eddie at the verge of arguing, when he sees—

He sees nothing. The wave hits him head and face on, hard and fast like it’s another truck hitting the shelf. In Buck’s position, less purchase at his feet, he gets pushed then dragged, water getting into his mouth. He dangles from his line, not immediately stolen by the wave, but as Buck’s weight hangs back, he hits backwards into the cliff’s wall with enough strength to make him gasp out the little breath he has. When he tries to find purchase with his hand before being dragged and hit a second time, he’s banged once more and his wrist burns something awful with the position he’s sent against the wall.

The first wave and its return forced slack in Buck’s rope; he feels in the way he’s dangling a little bit more from his line. The next time he’ll be pulled out even further.

“Buck!” It’s Eddie’s voice and Bobby’s voice, rising as one. Bobby is the one to follow on it, though, barking out orders Buck just barely understands past the ringing in his ears. “Buck, pull back now . Get those people out of the car as fast as you can.”

“But Carly–” he gasps out, already shivering from the flash of water.

“ Buck .” Bobby’s voice carries enough defeat for the both of them; it doesn’t stop him from feeling his own. Bobby doesn’t have to say anything else to understand that there is no chance that girl will be found alive.

Buck wants to cry. It’s unprofessional, but his eyes start to burn with more than just salt water. That wave is not the only one, more following, smaller, but quicker in succession, and it’s all Buck can do to get closer to the car again. He gets banged against the wall more than one time, doing his best to protect his stomach, and his wrist has to be at least strained, not to mention the bruises that’ll surely show up in his body – although they won’t be worse than the grave sense of failure that’s dragging down his chest.

He refuses to meet Eddie’s eye as they start to move up with the rescued victims, each strapped on to their backboard and to the team’s lines. It’s not just a feeling that they’re running from the waves; each one that follows rises further, and the last one almost drags Buck back again, the one that’s moving last. He chokes on the water and hits against the cliff again, holding tight to his victim’s board. When he finally blinks past the sting of his eyes, Eddie, a few meters up head, is curled down and gripping his upper arm.

“Come on,” he tells Buck. WIth the sound of the sea, Buck can only see the movement of his lips.

Buck is sniffling when he gets back on top. No one can immediately run to them –the terrain is still unsteady at the nearest part of the edge– but it’s just three feet before Buck has Hen reaching his side with a worried face.

“I’m not hurt,” he chokes out to her, though his whole body is aching and there are visible tear marks on his face. He can’t even really feel his wrist.

Buck hates how rude his voice sounds at Hen, spiky like a roll of barbed wire. He just hates himself for a moment.

Hen lets Buck drag himself alone to hide behind the engine – and he knows that’s what he’s doing. But when Buck reaches the side of the truck, out of view from the scene and his coworkers, it’s the only way he feels safe enough to start sobbing.

Buck’s already expecting steps to come in his direction –can guess the person– but he still refuses to turn, propping his good arm against the truck as he lets his head hang down and his tears fall. “I can’t fight right now,” Buck croaks, feeling pathetic. He shakes his head as the steps come closer, and then a hand reaches his shoulder and he’s hiccuping by it. “I can’t–”

“It’s okay.” Eddie wraps an arm around Buck’s shoulder, and pulls him close. It aches against his back, burning right down to his fucked wrist, and Buck can only let out another pathetic noise at that. He hides his face against the side of Eddie’s head and struggles to swallow back sobs. “I got you. I got you.”

The first person Buck ever lost –as a firefighter– was a man that fell from a rollercoaster. He thought a lot about Devon, during the following days, weeks, years of his life. The guilt never really goes away – neither do the what-ifs. The truth is, Buck has lost inumerable victims, and he’ll lose inumerable more. Even then, he knows that Carly will be a name that’ll stick inside his head. Just a kid. Just out with her friends.

No one tries to make him speak in the drive back. Hen was perfunctory in her exam for Buck’s sake – a lot of bruising, but nothing is broken. The wrist has a light strain which ice and rest will help. The baby’s heart is still beating strong.

The teens get sent to the hospital, and their parents are called. Recovery operations will start in the next morning for the body. Buck will be at home by then, lying comfortably on his bed.

He goes to lie down in the bunkroom again as soon as the engine returns to the station. Bobby lets him, which Buck doesn’t really know how to feel about – he’s mostly resolute in thinking about nothing. Buck hides there and covers his freezing, aching body, soggy uniform strewn out at the foot of the bed, and he hopes that the cold will trick Eddie as he eventually gets into the bunkroom too –another dejavu– and sees how much Buck is shaking.

He lies down silently by Buck’s back, not lifting the covers. The added distance doesn’t hide the warmth of Eddie’s body, already properly changed into new clothes, and Buck wants to melt against it. As Eddie gingerly touches his shoulder, almost shy, he does, entirely out of his accord.

Buck is still sniffling. Eddie can hear it, but says nothing as he cups Buck’s shoulder, and brushes circles with his thumb over the covers, a gentle touch.

It will be purple in the next morning – the shoulder, and the rest of his back, maybe a little of his sides. Probably also his wrist. Buck always bruised easily, long before the blood thinners. He’ll have weeks of seeing the remains of this evening on his body.

Eddie says nothing. Neither says Buck. They don’t really sleep.

-

Buck starts on the papers for requesting light duty the following morning. He was never a fan – he became a firefighter to help people, personally, and there’s nothing about a desk or taking care of the firehouse that spells that. Every time Buck’s been in light duty it was with a sense of failure, but this one might take the cake. He used to think he’d want to stay on the field for as long as he could during the pregnancy – to save as many people as possible. As it is, that number is already down.

The form is easy to find – it’s on the internet, and Buck prints it at the station after he and Eddie have arrived and Eddie gone away to find himself the coffee Buck’s not allowed to drink. He gives a tight smile to him across the loft and an even tighter one to Hen, before following to Bobby’s office. By then, Buck’s feet is already tapping away.

“Come in.”

Buck comes and closes the door before Bobby asks. He stands across from Bobby, holding the paper gingerly in his hands, and knows Bobby’s already looking at it.

“I’m not good at filling paperwork,” he tells Bobby.

He sighs. Buck can’t guess if he’s happy or not at his decision; only knows that he looks tired. It was a hard shift for everyone yesterday.

“Let me see.”

Bobby reviews the paper casually, just making sure it’s the correct form – Buck hasn’t gone even as far as writing his own name. His spelling has never been the best.

“Sit.” Bobby motions to one of the chair in front of his desk, and drags his hand close until Buck’s moving the chair to the side of Bobby’s desk, to the side of Bobby. “You’re sure about this?”

Bobby doesn’t sound very judging. Buck would hope to find some satisfaction in his voice –something to prove he’s doing the right choice– but Bobby is just watching him, face indecipherable.

“I’m not at my best.”

“You’re building an entire human being. That’s pretty good to me.”

“Bobby…”

He waves a hand before Buck can get up, or argue, or do all that he usually does. Buck’s not sure he’d even have the energy for that.

“I don’t want you to ask for this because you’re feeling bad about yesterday. There’s nothing to feel bad about. That girl had fallen from a truck midair. You couldn't have done anything.”

“It doesn’t feel like that.”

“It never will. You know that. You've been a firefighter for 7 years. Buck ,” Bobby moves his face into Buck’s eyesight when he tries to turn away. “There was nothing to do. I wouldn’t have allowed you to go down there even if you weren’t pregnant.”

“It’s not just that,” Buck tries. “Yesterday… I was hurting the whole shift. Even during the minor calls, I wasn’t at the top of my game. I, I– I can’t–”

“Hey. Of course you’re a little slower. Of course you’re a little more fragile. Kid – none of these things are a reason for you to be doubting yourself.

Buck sniffles. “But you are. Doubting me.”

A look exchanged with Eddie in an abandoned waterpark. Almost keeping him from the cliff rescue, before Bobby accepted that there just weren’t enough people to be stingy about. It’s concern, sure – care. But Bobby hadn’t been that careful before.

Bobby doesn’t defend himself, which might as well be a confession. Lips thinned, he doesn’t even look that guilty.

“You’re my family,” he starts, after a moment of quiet. “Your baby will be my family too. I can’t have either one of you hurt on my watch. And, yes, usually the first thing I’d want is for you to be asking for this form – but I don’t ever want you to feel bad about yourself, Evan. You didn’t fail. You aren’t losing. I don’t want you to sign this because you think are.”

Buck brushes a hand over one of his eyes. Clears his throat.

“W– w-what you’d want this to be?”

Bobby smiles – though it doesn’t reach all the way to his eyes.

“Rest. Taking care of yourself. Reading baby books – indulging your curiosity. Hell– organizing a room. Do you even have all the furniture you’ll need?”

Buck plays with his hands. “Uhm. Me and E-Eddie are still getting enough space in the bedroom.”

Bobby’s eyes soften, although his mouth twitches a moment upward. “Of course. Have you and Eddie talked a lot about the next months? If you’ll both take parental leave?”

“ Bobby ,” Buck whines.

“I know you’re not together. But he said he’d help you with the baby.”

Buck fidgets. “I dunno if the department’s gonna get that.”

“There’s a union representative I can give you the number. I sent Johnson to them last year, when she had her first baby. You and Eddie should talk with her and figure something out. That’s how you should enjoy light duty.”

Buck snorts despite himself – it sounds slightly damp. “With paperwork?”

Bobby gives him a tissue without even looking down at the little box he pulls it from. “With planning. No guilt. Just joy. Promise me?”

Buck doesn’t answer. He sniffs. “Is the paper getting thrown out?”

“I’ll help you fill everything you need; but I’m only sending it to the department after you have a walk, and some breakfast. To make sure you’re 100% about this.” Bobby holds the paper back for a moment, before giving it back to Buck. “Talk with Eddie.”

Buck blows his nose –disgusting– before nodding.

It’s easier to fill up the form with Bobby’s help; he also helps Buck with his spelling. Bobby holds his promise as Buck gets up to leave the office, holding on to the form, and Buck is an honest enough person to hold his own part. He walks around the station, checking the supplies, but really just thinking with himself, and then goes up the loft again, where the team is already helping themselves to some pastries from a bakery two blocks away. Eddie presents Buck with a plate of two.

“These ones are vegan, apparently.” Buck watched a documentary on the food industry a week before, and swore off animal products – not that he’s begun to follow that promise since then. Eddie is looking somewhat disgusted at the pastries –they look normal enough– but when he looks up to Buck, it’s just with the same care and attention as ever.

“Thanks.” Buck accepts the plate, and takes a bite of one of the pastries.

It tastes a little like cardboard. His heart feels full.

He talks with Eddie – and the team. They are pretty conspicuous one-on-one conversation, but no one points it out to him. Chim had a pregnant partner – has a pregnant partner, though Maddie’s still in the first months– and can understand everyone’s concerns on a higher level, and Hen is a medical professional, besides the most sincere person that Buck knows. She seldom lies to him.

“You’ll have to stay off rescues for some time anyway,” she points out, motioning to his wrist. It’s in a black brace, and Buck fidgets uncomfortably at the velcro clasp. “Following into light duty wouldn’t be hard. You are almost at six months, right?”

“Only a week left,” Buck murmurs.

Hen smiles at the information. “They’ll be here closer than you think.” Hen likes babies as much as Buck – he hasn’t forgotten that, about a year ago, she was excited about fostering one. “You’ll have to lay off work for a while after you deliver them. Shouldn’t you pre-game it?”

“‘Pre-game’?” Buck chuckles. Hen rolls her eyes, though the smile remains on her face.

“Start participating less on rescues. Hold down the fort more. Get used to not running around everywhere. Eventually you won’t even come to the station, Buck.”

“I can bring them here,” he tries.

“Oh, you will . But like 80% of the time you’ll be at home.. You should familiarize yourself with not having a job. Well – a job besides taking care of a baby.”

“Pre-game it,” Buck repeats. Hen nods encouragingly at him. 

“That can be fun. Bring some books to read around in the station. Use the time we’re off to scenes to plan your baby shower. You’re having a baby shower, right? Right?” Her look at Buck isn’t very impressed. “Come on – do you even have diapers?”

“I can buy that, like, a month before.”

“You’re having a baby shower,” Hen informs him. Well – that’s that then.

Eddie’s the last one Buck speaks with, after they get home from work. As they leave the station, Bobby holds Buck’s gaze for a moment – he doesn’t have to speak for Buck to be reminded of their conversation. The form is still waiting on Bobby’s desk.

Eddie drives them home, humming at the radio in the way Buck knows it’s from nerves. They haven’t really spoken about yesterday; Buck realizes that, despite sharing the same living space for about as long Buck has been pregnant –before he’d even known– they don’t really talk as much as they probably should. Maybe Eddie is psyching himself up for the same thing as Buck. That’d be funny – Buck snorts at himself in the drive, which probably doesn’t help in Eddie’s understanding of his mental stability.

When they’re at the house, Buck stops in the middle of the living room and doesn’t let Eddie walk too far away.

“Hey. Uhm. There’s, ah. Something I, I want to talk with you about.”

“Oh.” Eddie stops in his tracks. He doesn’t look surprised – but unprepared. “Alright.”

He motions to the couch. It’s a easy thing to follow, though Buck’s playing with his own hands nervously as he sits down and waits for Eddie to do the same, right by his side. This is where he showed him the first –proper– ultrasound. There’s another picture on the fridge by now, and a magnet of the new fruit holding it: a small melon. Buck still prefers avocados.

“Uhm. Okay.” Buck tries to start. “You– you know that yesterday brought me down, a little. It did everyone, but, b-because I couldn’t do everything–”

“You did nothing wrong,” Eddie tries to reassure him. Buck just holds up a hand.

“I, ah. Already had that talk with cap.” He smiles sadly. “It’s about it, actually. I mean – what I want to te-talk with you about. Uhm.” Buck takes a breath. “I asked him about starting light duty.”

Buck hates how that still makes him feel guilty – ashamed, somehow. Eddie’s answer, his second Oh of the evening just leaves him more anxious.

“Bobby doesn’t want me to take it because I’m, you know, i-insecure after yesterday, but really I think there’s a lot of stuff for me to, to be considering it. I talked with everyone about it, but, uhm. I wanted to know about you. What you think about it.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment – suspended in time.

Buck’s chest neither lightens or weights down when Eddie pulls a deep breath in, visibly nervous; he’s not sure of what Eddie is feeling – or thinking. He’s not really sure about himself, honestly.

“Uh,” Eddie breathes out something heavy, shoulder falling. “Honestly, I–” he gives Buck a rueful smile, “I kinda wanted you to have started it, like, months ago. Since we learned about the pregnancy, frankly.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re up to the job!” Eddie rushes to add. “But I’m particularly aware of how dangerous it is. We both almost died when we were on duty – more than once actually. I just– didn’t want that to be a worry.” He gives out another sad smile. “Not that crossing the street is safe either.”

Buck feels more than one pang at his chest.

“You never…mentioned it.”

“I can’t. It’s…it’s your baby. Your pregnancy. You’re the one in charge.”

That sounds awfully lonely.

Buck’s quiet for a while. His head goes quiet and loud all at once, hard to pick at one thing specifically. Eddie, looking at him –waiting for him, still looking just as rueful– for once doesn’t help.

“So you think I should do it?” Buck’s voice doesn't ring with confidence – lacking even the little gathered during his talk with Chim and Hen. Eddie sounds just as unsure.

“Do you want to?”

“I– Eddie .” Buck bites his lip.

“What?” When Buck doesn't answer, Eddie just repeats himself, sounding more pulled apart by the moment. “ What ? Buck – what do you want me to say?”

“I want…I don't want to do this alone.”

Eddie looks like he's been shot – Buck would know. All of his breath leaves him in a punch, although that’s never been the intention of Buck’s words. What Buck said in one go –sincerely, of course, but so felt within himself that it doesn't feel anything but obvious– looks like it hurts for Eddie to hear. It makes Buck feel a flash of pain himself, looking at him.

Eddie doesn't let the hurt hold – he's too used to and prepared for it. The next breath to go in his lungs is measured, and it should reassure Buck, but he just feels something like twitchy anticipation gather in his stomach.

“I don't want you to be alone either,” Eddie starts in a whisper. Buck’s stomach somersaults. “When you told the team the first time –about the baby– Bobby…Bobby talked with me about this. I should have said something sooner.”

“What are you talking about?” Buck’s voice leaves him just as quiet.

“I really don't mind when people think I’m the father,” Eddie confesses. “It makes me feel– it makes me feel good, because it means you’re doing this with me. Dios – I’m saying all of this wrong.” Eddie looks to the ceiling – not that it gives him any answer. He shakes his head at it, and then at Buck when, looking down again, his mouth is hanging open. “Just– hear me out, please. I’m about to say something that’ll probably make you really uncomfortable.”

That’s not good news. Buck can imagine a number of ways how this develops into –Buck doesn't know, but he can never not expect it– discomfort, if not heartbreak. But when Buck looks at Eddie he doesn't see an early sign of any of those things. When he looks at Eddie, Eddie looks–

Shy.

Buck's left entirely without words and Eddie takes it as space to continue, not waiting for any interruption, even if he's clearly flustered as he goes on, looking straight at Buck from stubborness alone.

“I’m not sure if I actually said to you in the exact words that I want to be there for your baby. But I do.” Eddie wets his bottom lip. “I want to be there for your baby. I want to– I want to help you like you did. With Chris.” Eddie's voice cracks with the name –several types of hits to Buck's heart– but he visibly forces himself to continue. “I want to be there for you, you two. And I could be– more. If you'd like that.”

After the hits, Buck's heart squeezes – hot and cold at the same time. It's a vice to his throat and to his chest all at once; he isn't sure if he's even breathing, looking back at Eddie, both of their eyes shining. Buck isn't sure if the light in Eddie’s should be lighting up his heart, like it's begging in suggestion – for a reason he doesn't really even understand. Buck isn't sure of– of anything .

“Eddie?”

But he's continuing, and Eddie's not looking so shy as to the level of incoherency that Buck feels. There's that adamancy on his face again: the stubbornness that had Chris wishing for his independence right from the age of eight, and Eddie rising back to his feet again and again, more times than Buck has had the heart to fully watch and still forced himself to. Eddie hasn’t fallen now – he's looking right back to Buck, and speaking without stutter.

“I know Tommy is the other part of the equation – and it's alright if you want to leave that space empty. But Bobby said to me that there are other ways to act as a father. And he's right – and I know that he's right. And if that's what you need – what both of you need– you have to know that, Buck –” Eddie’s voice doesn't shake but it thrums, no uncertainty, but the strength of its opposite in it. “That is who I'd be in a heartbeat.”

Eddie takes a deep breath before continuing, though Buck feels like he’s personally run out of his own. “When I got from Texas…” Eddie begins and wanes, something grieving on his face. “I had so few people behind me, but you helped me. You helped me and Christopher, as soon as you met him. And– and he's not here anymore, but you were always there, and I want to be there too. When I meet your kid–” Eddie looks at Buck, eyes so open and full of love he feels he’ll drown on it – too much to hold, too much to deserve. “I know I'm going to look at them like you look at Chris.”

The next breath Buck takes sounds like a sniffle. He’d almost wish for it to be something worse – something that could cover the absolute mess in his chest, that could rise and meet the absolute adoration in Eddie’s eyes, nothing that Buck has ever deserved.

“What are you saying?” he asks him. As Eddie takes a deep breath of his own, Buck feels his legs shake, though he's already sat on a couch.

His whole body trembles. Sitting across from Eddie, he can see a little shaking of his own, not insecurity, but vulnerability, all for Buck to see.

“I want to be with you as you raise them.” God , Buck thinks, and feels his heart– he doesn't even know. “As a partner.” Buck can only hear the ringing inside his head: god, god, god– “A parenting partner.”

Oh.

Buck’s not uninitiated in kink. Before even Tommy –who probably thought he introduced a lot of things into Buck’s bed– Buck had already tried out a lot of shit with Taylor. Most didn't stick. Most did the opposite of sticking.

Once, she edged him to the point of tears; it wasn't nothing new, but this time– Buck didn't know exactly what happened, except the timing went all wrong. He didn't rise and fall back to start rising again – he just rose and rose, and when he was up into the air–

Everything stopped and Buck came crashing down all at once.

This is what this feels – though, with Eddie, and still such a loving gift thrust in Buck’s hand, the comparison is undeserved. He doesn't know what’s wrong with himself; he doesn't know why he feels so unmoored. This burns worse than disappointment. Buck doesn't even know what he has to feel disappointed about.

“Eddie,” he says, and tries to remember there's already a promise sent to him. Buck’s not unhappy, exactly. There's something beautiful in this future. He should be happy – he is happy.

There's also something almost painful in his chest. Heartbreak, after all.

Buck swallows and restarts again, before his voice breaks too. “Eddie. You’re– you’re sure?”

“I have never been more sure of something before,” Eddie says – and this is happy too. Buck feels a flash of it, warm and cosy at the promise and devotion is Eddie's voice, and it's finally something good to fully wrap around himself. Buck does it – strongly. He wraps the warmth around himself and remembers that this is the happy ending. It's with that promise that he lets his body careen forward, grabbing Eddie in a hug, and feeling him hold his body back.

Eddie’s arms are careful around Buck‘s bruised back. His touch is gentle – warm.

He holds Buck –they hold each other, a moment that stretches forward– and when they move on the couch, sinking together as the sun moves across the living room window, it's to Buck‘s back against Eddie’s chest, feeling each of his breaths and it rises. Eddie’s steady hand resting on the top of his stomach.

This is the happy ending, Buck repeats to himself.

He doesn't know what, in the first moment of confusion, he thought Eddie would tell him instead.

Chapter Text

“What happened to your hand?”

Buck halts in his cutting of bell peppers to look down at the hand not holding the knife, even though he knows full well that there’s a wrist brace still wrapped securely around it.

“Oh.” He put down the knife, automatically lifting his injured wrist to be better in the view of his phone’s camera – Christopher’s field of vision. “I strained it at work.”

Chris’ face pinches in a frown. It’s an expression that’s been showing up more, and, each time, Buck has the urge to reach across their phone screens to knead at the crease with his thumb. Christopher looks older and more stressed with it.

“When did that happen?” The question comes with no lack of urgency. His voice cracks the way of a teenager’s at the weight put in it.

“About two weeks ago.” Buck looks seriously at the camera when Christopher’s expression isn’t helped in the slightest. “Hey; it’s nothing serious. I didn’t even really sprain it.”

“Is that why you said nothing?” Some haughness still remains in his voice, but it only makes Buck smile and roll his eyes.

“I said ‘nothing’ because I totally forgot about this thing. I’m using my hand normally. The brace is just…in case.” Buck picks up his knife again, pointing to the camera. “Come on. Back to homework.”

Christopher grumbles – but his head turns down to the notebooks sitting in front of him again.

Video calls are Eddie and Christopher’s thing – there’s very few people Buck facetimes at all, and, mostly, he used it to keep tabs on Eddie when they worked different shifts at the end of last year. Most of the people in Buck’s life are a workday away.

Nonetheless, when Chris began to ask for video calls with Buck too there was no question about it; there would never be, with Chris. He’s speaking more with his father, calling even if it isn’t facetime day, and Buck doesn’t have to feel guilty about spending time with Christopher either. He’ll admit it’s nice seeing his face again; the freckle over his eye, the little crease in his chin when he’s thinking, the way his glasses are always sliding down his nose. In the six months Chris has been away he’s grown into a teenager. Buck is as happy to see him as heartbroken that it is through a screen.

Now, he’s cooking dinner. When Christopher works through his homework at the other side of the call, Buck can almost pretend he’s doing it on Eddie’s own kitchen table. He’s working overnight, a shift Buck wouldn’t be in anyway, so there’s no worry about explaining to Chris he’s in light duty, or why, and Buck focuses on cutting thin strips of his bell peppers instead of feeling guilty at –basically– lying.

He might have popped. Buck’s genuinely not sure. One night he went to sleep and the next morning, when he did his mirror check, there was the unmistakable presence of– something in his stomach. Before, people would think he had a big lunch at most. Now, Buck isn’t sure anyone would guess pregnancy at a 6 '2 man, but that’s what it unmistakably looks like to him whenever he checks himself on mirrors and windows. Christopher just isn’t seeing his bump because Buck –purposely– sat down in front of the kitchen counter to make his food.

He munches on strips of bell peppers as he goes, moving from one step of his sandwich prep to the other. Buck won’t go vegan while he’s pregnant –and he may not go vegan at all, honestly– but he’s been on a huge vegetable streak since that sale at the grocery store. He finds that buying produce at half-price when they’re at the very last stretch of their shelf life doesn’t matter so much when he eats through everything so fast. Buck’s eating all the time – a big difference from the start of the pregnancy, when he barely could hold anything down. The first trimester sucks .

Buck can see a bag of organic chips on Christopher’s desk with the camera’s position, and whenever Chris takes one out as he works through his homework, Buck gets a warmth to his chest at the thought of snacking along with Christopher, even if it is from miles away. Once in a while he’ll pick his notebook to show Buck –no matter how useless he is in most subjects– but Buck is finding that, really, Christopher is after company. That particular squeeze to his chest isn’t that warm – he wonders how many people are there to keep by his side as he answers a science worksheet.

A knock comes at Christopher’s door, and as much as Buck isn’t looking forward to seeing either of Eddie’s parents or having to explain who he is again , he doesn’t expect Chris to just turn his phone face down, camera feed blacking out as the lenses press against the table. It’s enough for him to entirely stop with his knife – making it unintentionally quiet for Christopher, but also enough for Buck to hear Helena’s voice inside of his room.

“- - homework is close?”

“Just finishing up some things, grandma.”

“- - say so. I love you - - - don’t stay up so - - -”

“I know, grandma. Love you too.” Buck hears the click of a door before Christopher’s last words, “Good night,” and then the door click again, closing. It isn’t long before Chris is picking up his phone and giving Buck his eyes back, but he isn’t looking very impressed at the teenager.

“What was that ?” Chris gives a long suffering sigh, but Buck is undeterred. “You’re keeping me a secret?” The idea of Christopher talking with an adult without his caretakers knowing –even if it’s the Diaz seniors– makes something rankle inside of Buck’s chest.

The feeling –and fear– must show up on his face, because Christopher immediately shakes his head, looking as aggrieved as serious. “ No ,” he emphasizes the word, though his voice doesn’t raise too much – Buck guesses he knows now why. “They just don’t let me use my phone during the night.”

Buck frowns.

“Not even with your dad?”

Christopher’s shrug is meant to look uncaring, but Buck has known that kid’s face for about half as long as he’s lived – he can recognize the hurt, poorly hidden, on the crease of Christopher’s face, as he says, “He hasn’t asked.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Buck tries. When Chris scoffs –such an angry sound for such a kind boy– he insists, feeling the confusion then discomfort from before just turn into grief. “You dad goes to your grandparents first. Any time he’s not speaking with you, it’s because he’s following their lead.”

He isn’t sure if Christopher believes in him –that hurts too– but at least his face twitches in consideration for a second. “Why wouldn’t he go straight to me?” Christopher asks it with something like derision, but Buck can recognize the vulnerability in his voice. It makes his eyes soften. 

“You chose to go to your grandparents Chris. Eddie’s following those rules.”

“There aren’t rules ,” Christopher’s nose curls. Buck can only raise a hand to stop him from flaring any further.

“Hey – hey. You have to tell your dad that. You know how he is; he does everything that he thinks is what you need. Even if you don’t explicitly ask for it.”

It makes Chris huff in annoyance, but he must recognize the truth; he can only cross his arms, looking away from Buck for a moment, but what he sees left in Chris is more uncertainty than anger. It’s only the victory of Eddie’s child rearing, who made this kid as sympathetic as he is.

“Can’t you ask him?” Chris starts. Buck can see that, despite the vulnerability still in his eyes, his words are mostly joking. He looks pointedly at the kitchen behind Buck. “You’re at his house .”

Buck grins back at him – though the expression doesn't reach his eyes. He’s getting more and more familiar with the taste of lying, but it hasn’t stopped turning his stomach. “Just keeping your dad’s place warm.”

The words feel ashen as they leave his mouth. Even then, Chris acquiesces – just glancing a last time at Buck before going back to his homework. Buck watches him for a moment – kitchen knife and bell peppers abandoned on the cutting board. Somehow, he’s not all that hungry anymore.

–

Light duty is both better and worse than what Buck imagined it would be. He gets to still go to the station, and that’s always welcomed, as is the general tasks Bobby leaves with him –although not with a clipboard– but every time the team leaves after an alarm, Buck feels strangely reminiscent of his time post-lawsuit: watching the vehicles leave the bay without being allowed in any of them.

He’s busy enough. Bobby isn’t taking easy on him even as man behind, which means something, and Buck tries to focus on that instead of any sense of inadequacy at not following his team right into danger. He cooks half of the firehouse’s meals, he checks the supplies at the start of the shift and then a second time at the end of it, he works maintenance on the engine after every call. When the team leaves they’re earnest in saying they’ll see him soon, as is Eddie’s last glance in his direction, every time he goes. Buck shuffles on his feet and goes to grease the hinges of the loft’s windows, instead of thinking of disappointment in his chest or –worse– the butterflies inside his stomach.

He’s been issued a new uniform. The last time he needed one was after first bulking up, and there was a sense of victory in receiving a new batch of department clothes. When Buck receives his newer one, a size larger to account for his baby bump, he doesn’t know if he feels exactly victorious, but there is neither a sense of failure. Mostly, Buck looks at the new clothes, the way they dress him, and thinks, not for the first time, that he’s about to have a baby.

The extra downtime helps with planning the nursery. It’s a small, dedicated part of Eddie’s bedroom, at least while the baby is small, and the distraction doesn’t work entirely in that condition –and what surrounds it– but it works a bit . Buck finds himself looking through a lot of shopping sites when the station is calm. Turns out they make everything for babies extremely cute so you want to buy absolutely all of it.

“Do we need a changing table though?” Eddie looks over his shoulder at Buck’s shopping cart, and then the item’s page. He’s got one of his eyebrows raised as he turns to Buck. “Can’t we just use the bathroom counter?”

“Have you measured it?” Hen asks from across the loft. Any conversation in the station’s common space might as well be public – especially if it’s about the baby. If Buck’s being honest he actually prefers having the team’s input. He’s not the only childless person of the 118 – but he is, practically, the only childless person of his most immediate circle of friends. He needs all the references.

“Do we gotta measure it?” Eddie's nose twitches at Hen. She looks straight at Buck.

“Buy the changing table.”

He opens the payment tab.

When Buck goes into maternity aisles or baby stores, no one mistakes him as the partner of an expecting woman. He watches more than a fair number of double-takes, but the price of living somewhere as bougy as LA has its perks. He’s yet to be harassed –and hopes it’ll stay that way– which might be in part thanks to whoever is trailing after him in the new shopping search. Buck’s thankful he has such a protective family. Eddie, the person that follows him most in these places, hovers over his shoulder, and whenever he’s referred as the second dad neither of them correct it.

That’ll be the space Eddie will occupy, Buck supposes, though the official-ness of it is still kind of up to debate. Buck finds that it isn’t something too hard to imagine; he’s just seen one photo of Chris as a baby, but as easy as it is to see in his head Eddie holding him, Buck can follow with the image of his own child in Eddie’s arms. Sometimes Buck kind of daydreams about it.

The baby will come in April. It’s close to Easter; the holiday was never religious to him –no holiday was, quite honestly– and mostly, what Buck imagines crystal clear is a coverall with bunny prints, a little sleeping cap with ears to match it. He imagines the warmth of the baby’s cheek – how it would be to touch it. How it would be to see Eddie touch it. He wonders if, after the baby is born, people will say that they look like Eddie.

It’s a headache most of the time, honestly. Once or twice, Buck has had to rise from a daydream groaning. What are you thinking about , he shouts to himself in his head, but receives no answer at all. He’s about ready to ask Google if pregnancy hormones can cause crushes – that, or if Tommy had been right after all. Buck doesn't know which option makes his chest clench down more.

He doesn't ask google – or anyone else. Buck has better things –more important things– to occupy himself with, anyway.

He visits stores with Maddie. She has the experience Eddie lacks, even if the lack of his company –if only for an afternoon– makes Buck kind of weepy. It’s fine. He’s not thinking about it either.

They’re walking the baby section of the mall library, side by side. It was Maddie that used to bring him places and buy him stuff when Buck was a kid; any shopping trip with Maddie feels inherently nostalgic. Now she has two kids and he'll have one.

Buck doesn't think of Texas, and whoever it's taken.

The book aisle is bigger than Buck expected. Normally, he would just ask for Maddie’s old books, but she’s re-reading for the new baby. Instead, she points out the best titles for him to take: Pregnancy Mythos, How to Keep Healthy While Pregnant, Pregnancy Cuisine, A Guide for Newborns: week one to week twelve , and so and such. The books are heavy – thicker than the baby inside of Buck, ironically, but he picks up each of them without question. Buck just hopes they’ll scare him less than the internet did.

He stutters on his steps at the very edge of the book aisle, eyes catching on a book of baby names. Between a shelf of similar titles, it’s this one’s cover that pulls his attention: baby blue and lowkey. Gentle-looking, almost.

Buck hears Maddie stop with the shopping cart before he turns to her. As he does, she’s already watching him quietly.

“Still not sure of a name?” Maddie asks. Buck is slightly embarrassed to confess he didn’t think about this part at all .

“You could say that.” He looks back to the book, the self-resigned smile on his face drifting into something more longing. It’s a hard-cover, when Buck touches the edition; if for nothing else, he could use it as a cup-holder, after.

“Take it,” Maddie suggests. Buck doesn’t need to look at her to know his sister is smiling, that gentle one she turns just to him.

Later, after they’re in her house, eating cookies on the couch, Buck keeps looking at the corner of the living room, where his shopping bags wait for him to bring them to Eddie’s house.

“Do you have a name?” Buck finds himself asking Maddie without even noticing. He still doesn’t deny himself the line of questioning after finally blinking into awareness, turning back to his sister. She’s back to watching him with a gentle look, crumbs on her chin. “For Jee-yun’s sibling?”

Maddie rests back onto the couch, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she looks away and thinks. “There are some ideas. Nothing that’s 100% for sure for now.” When Maddie glances back to Buck, she's smiling as she rests a hand on her stomach; about Buck’s size, despite their months' difference. “Me and Howie are between girl names.”

Buck’s ears pick up. “Is that what you’re having?” Maddie tries to act coy, but Buck can read her face; the smile on it turns too shy. “Maddie!”

“We just learned about it a week ago.”

“W–were you trying to keep it a secret?”

“No. It’s– well. Maybe at the start. It’s a little nice having a little thing only the two of you know. Everyone wants to give you advice, and this is a topic less.”

“I think people are too confused at me to think about talking.” Maddie’s face turns into something sad, and Buck hurries into shaking his head. “It's not that bad. It can be a little funny. I went into a store the other day and I thought the cashier’s eyes were going to bug out.”

It doesn't seem to entertain Maddie as much as it did him, but she does hold her emotion back. “I’m glad you’re not letting it hit you.” Buck shrugs – not like there's another choice. The moment goes, and Maddie lets the topic go with it – returning to the one before. “Have you…”

Buck doesn't get what she’s on about until he retraces the last minutes’ steps. “W– Oh! Have I learned if– if mine’s a girl too?” That's a way to phrase it; the topic –like anything really– still feels frail like a little bird in Buck’s hands. He never had a soft enough touch. Still, Maddie nods back to him. “Uhm, n-no. Every time we go for an ultrasound the baby is positioned kind of awkwardly.”

“They’re shy,” Maddie teases. Buck snorts, chin falling.

“Maybe.” Six months, and only now really showing up; Buck is going to have a baby as scared as him.

He doesn't let that strand of topic take hold, lest Maddie notices it. Instead, Buck looks back to her, and forces out a more light smile.

“Kinda hard for me and Eddie to pick a name like this.”

It's Buck’s own fault, really. He already knows what Maddie is going to say just by the shape of her raised eyebrow – but no backtracking is going to stop it.

“You and Eddie.”

He already had this conversation, months ago in a parking bench –feeling about just as put on the spot– but Maddie hasn't heard the new development. Buck doesn't know if it's bad or worse that Eddie’s not here by his side, this time.

“We– Eddie offered to co-parent. Like – officially.”

“Wasn't it official before?”

Maddie’s not teasing – but Buck still feels too vulnerable.

“Maddie,” he sighs. It's a weak whisper.

“I just don't want you to get hurt.” Maddie always knows too much. Even what Buck doesn't – really doesn't, and is spiralling even now about it– she knows, and handles like porcelain. Buck wishes it made him feel taken off, instead of just fragile.

He sighs.

“We’re not together.” The words taste different now. Buck’s spiralling about that, too.

“I know,” Maddie tells him. She looks at him far too understandingly.

Buck swallows; shuffles on his seat, sitting up, and brushes a hand through the crumbs on his hoodie, gathering on his stomach. “Tell me some baby names.”

Maddie is protective of girl names – it's slightly cute. I’m not going to rob your daughter’s name! Buck guffaws at her, fake-hurt, but she squints her eyes and –hiding a smile– shakes her head still. Besides his shopping bags of books, Buck only leaves Maddie’s house with the name she's thought of for her little girl after copious amounts of promises, and only it. No recommendations. He supposes that’s another thing Maddie can't figure out for him 

“Me and Howie really liked Joy.”

Joy .

It's a pretty name.

–

Eddie wakes up in a cold sweat.

The nightmare is already running from his view – vague memories dispersing at each one of his bleary blinks. The response it gathered lasts longer, the dampness of Eddie’s skin and how fast his heart is still running, though it's wrapped in impossible knots too, and he has to take control of his breathing before a panic attack can take shape.

Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out. Eddie keeps at it until it doesn't feel like he'll suffocate in too little air and too much despair. He’d have done it like a ghost, quiet and composed, well aware that there’s no way he’s going to be falling asleep after this – except that, at the last breath, Eddie feels the mattress move behind him. He just woke Buck.

“It’s okay,” comes out broken, cracked in two –no way that it sounds like it’s just because he’s been asleep– and Eddie reaches a hand back, blind in the dark and the way his body is turned, his back to Buck.

Normally, they sleep wrapped together, but maybe the nightmare made more than just Eddie’s peace drift away. He can't see Buck, but he can imagine his reaction – mostly because worry would be his first response too, were for Buck to wake up from a nightmare beside him. The last thing Eddie wants is for him to feel any stress.

Buck wraps a hand around the one Eddie reached for him and brushes another through his damp back, until he’s reached –and grasped– a shoulder, touch heavy with sleep. Despite himself, Eddie bodily shudders at the contact. It isn't exactly from fear.

“Wha’ wazit?” Buck’s words bundle together, a tired breath that tickles at Eddie’s nape as Buck drapes himself across his back. Eddie inhales another time and holds it.

“I dunno.” Bone-deep anxiety and a sense of hurry and stress, searching for something and not finding it; or finding it wrong. Despair. Eddie can't remember it, but even trying to his stomach somersaults. He doesn't try again.

“‘s okay,” Buck echoes him. Wrapping himself around Eddie like he is, Eddie can feel the press of his belly; the hardness that’s all baby, although they’re still so small, guarded inside of Buck, but just so.

Eddie grabs a piece of Buck’s arm with the hand he’d reached back and drags it into a squeezing hold, close to his own chest – close to him. Buck sighs in his sleep – deep and steady, right behind Eddie’s ear. Before he follows, willing to try just because of Buck, Eddie’s breath stutters a last time out of him.

–

Anxiety follows Eddie in the morning. What little sleep he managed to have after the nightmare was restless and insecure, even with Buck’s company, and that vague feeling of wrongness is how he still more or less feels after leaving bed, a dark cloud hovering close.

He doesn't recall what he dreamed about: just the feeling of the experience, all around distress. Dread is a strong word, but Eddie finds it fits best in how he feels, even well awake – although he knows that’s irrational. It's not the first time a nightmare sticks to him in the waking world –even a nightmare he barely remembers, aside from the sense of panic that’s still lingering– but this one, somehow, feels worse. Maybe because it hits close to home.

Whatever Eddie saw, the dread is calling for him to stick close to Buck. He feels sick at even the idea of dreaming about Buck having been hurt.

Eddie hovers – aware that that's what he's doing, and that it’s because of the nightmare. Eddie’s chest feels like it will burst if he's not looking at Buck, continuously drumming. He keeps an uneasy guard through their entire morning routine and well into the start of their shift; anxious that something bad can happen, will happen.

Buck knows that he's hovering. He asks Eddie again if he’s alright during breakfast, when Eddie can’t get himself to eat and keeps watching Buck in the kitchen, and glances worriedly at him when Eddie won’t stop doing it inside of the truck.

Eddie doesn't have an answer to give him, not anything concrete, even if that leaves Buck with a crick on his brow. A more selfish part of Eddie is almost glad that he doesn’t know what to say. Eddie can't find in himself the stomach to try and remember the nightmare if it really was about Buck – and the baby.

Buck's okay. The baby is okay. The small bits of discomfort of early third semester aren't cause for concern, and hadn't been before; just yesterday Eddie had called Buck an old man because of his week-long heartburn. He’d taken to sleeping with a glass of water by his side, and Eddie joked it was where he kept his teeth. Watching Buck knead at his breast bone on the way to work is almost therapeutic in comparison with whatever Eddie dreamed about; he breathes deeply, trying to pay attention to traffic, and hopes the fear will go away along with air on the exhale. It doesn’t.

Work doesn’t provide any danger – nothing outside of a twist of fate, anyway. Buck doesn’t go with them for any call, staying behind in the firehouse, and the tasks Bobby gives him aren’t so physically taxing that they can’t be done by a pregnant person. Everyone is watching out for Buck; Eddie knows that. He tries using it for comfort, after last night, but only barely succeeds. Even the thought of leaving Buck alone in the station –something usually reassuring– makes Eddie feel slightly nauseous.

He goes through the day with a base level of unease. The others notice it –and Eddie notices them catching Buck’s eye, exchanging silent questions, like Eddie’s not in the room– but they give him space; even Buck does it. Eddie doesn’t know how bad he must be for even someone as gung-ho as Buck to decide to let him come out on his own. Eddie neither knows whether to feel grateful or lonely for it.

In the afternoon, they attend a call to a residential strip; nice homes, nice families – at least in picture. A patrol call was sent to the same address, already waiting on the curb, and that’s the first clue to Eddie that it will be something bad. Then he walks up the front steps, helping Hen with her paramedic bag, and sees a woman openly sobbing on the porch. Hen and him catch the red in the seat of her pants at the same time; it doesn’t take a second more for Hen to tell him to go away, “You can sit this one out,” voice painfully sad.

Eddie doesn’t argue. He hovers on the outside of the scene, feeling more than one kind of useless, and waits for them to go back to the station. The drive back is silent – no one looks at Eddie, pointedly, which feels the same, but he’s just as willing to ignore it. He busies himself with vehicle maintenance, after, and tries not to think of Buck, prepping their dinner. Eddie isn’t hungry.

He polishes the engine just to have something to do, partly hoping it will keep anyone from trying to talk with him. He’s slightly surprised Bobby hasn’t yet – not only as his captain. But in the end, it’s Hen that comes his way, a plate of something wrapped in foil to give him, even as he keeps it away.

Quietly, she lets it down on the stand Eddie had the maintenance equipment for the engine, and then sits right beside it. It’s rude to completely ignore someone – even if Hen’s presence gives a new shuffle to Eddie’s nerves. His hands are restless as he turns, fidgeting with the cloth he used with the engine, and it doesn’t help that Hen looks so knowingly.

“Hey.” Her voice is gentle; not as gentle as she usually speaks with Buck –outside of the times he’s getting on her nerves, even six months pregnant– but there’s a softness to it that Eddie doesn’t personally hear so often from her. Buck’s her little brother; Eddie is her friend, and the one that’s so fucking scared of seeing him get hurt.

Eddie breathes out his answer, “Hey.” His shoulders fall with weight.

“You okay? The last call was…” Hen shakes her head, lips downturned. Eddie’s not the only one that thinks about Buck.

“Sorry to leave you hanging.”

“Nonsense. I was the one that sent you away. No one would hold that against you either. Buck’s your best friend.”

Eddie swallows, throat dry. He looks down. “Yeah.”

“It was a rough one. You know, when I started at the academy, the instructors always warned us about four types of emergencies: emergencies with friends and families, emergencies with the elderly, emergencies with children, and emergencies with babies. Those four are always harder to let go. I don’t think it ever gets easier. Especially when it hits close to home. After I had Denny…” Hen trails off. She doesn’t need to say it; every call with a kid makes Eddie think of Christopher.

And now…

Eddie doesn’t have the words for it. He’s Buck’s partner, but he isn’t a spouse; he’ll be his co-parent, and that’s a name, but he isn’t exactly the other father. He doesn’t really have a word for himself – a strick reasoning as to why thinking about Buck crying on that porch, pants red, not only scares him, but breaks him. That was the nightmare, Eddie realized: he didn’t remember the circumstances and god only knows what was the dream logic, but that was what gave him the sense of fear and failure; Buck lost the baby in his dream. Buck lost the baby and it was his fault. And Eddie felt grief like a father’s.

He wonders if that’s what Buck has felt all this time. They never talked about it; his relationship with Chris. Now they rarely talk about Chris in general – and that’s Eddie’s fault, double time. Eddie knows that Buck wants to, but he always hesitates; doesn’t know where he stands. Eddie doesn’t know either – he doesn't even know where to put his own feet.

Hen watches him for a moment, though she keeps quiet at whatever is clear to see on his face. Eddie tries not to feel like she’s reading him completely, but that’s an immediate failure – Hen came to him with purpose. And knowingly. They’re not thinking of different things.

“Ready to talk about what’s going on with you today?” she asks eventually. Eddie swallows a second time.

He breathes heavily.

“I had a nightmare,” Eddie confesses. He continues to not look at Hen as he speaks. “Yesterday. About Buck and the… And I know it was a dream. But for a second I felt like the world was ending and I keep feeling like it will.”

It’s not like anxiety is new for Eddie. He’s so acquainted with it, he had regular panic attacks like two years ago. Frank would say the undercurrent would still be the same, Eddie’s compulsion to have control, do things right, not fail them, but he struggles to think why he shouldn't be feeling like this. That nightmare isn’t an outcome he’ll ever be able to accept.

Hen’s eyes go round with sadness at him. “That’s awful, Eddie. I’m sorry that call came today. Did you…talk with Buck?”

“ How ? I mean – how do I even bring that up without stressing him out too. It’s not like Buck isn’t afraid of that either. A month ago he had a scare–”

“ What? ” Hen’s eyes grow to the size of saucers – it just makes Eddie’s chest ache more in the memory.

“It was the first time he felt the baby. He thought it was a miscarriege. You should have seen him , Hen. He was– he would have blamed himself so much . I can’t bring this to him.”

“So, what? You’re just going to carry it? Eddie . This isn’t how partnerships work.” Hen shakes her head. “Buck wouldn’t want you to have this floating in your head either. You know that.”

And Eddie does – at each one of Buck’s worried glances he felt something guilty and acrimonic at looking away. He’s still willing to feel that, besides fear, if it means Buck won’t have to worry, but Eddie doesn’t even have to say all of that aloud to know that’s not the truth. Buck isn’t free of worry – everything that Eddie is thinking about, he also already is.

Eddie brushes a hand across his face, suddenly exhausted; it doesn’t succeed in clearing him of that feeling, or any of the other, for that matter.

“Are you ever afraid that talking about something will make it happen?” Eddie feels like a little kid again, almost – half a hand over his eyes while watching a horror movie, afraid for the moment the monster will jump out But it’s only Hen in front of him – smiling sadly.

“You’re the one that’s not superstitious,” she reminds him, voice just as quiet. “Go talk with Buck.”

Buck’s in the bunkroom when Eddie goes after him. He’s been laying down more – enjoying at least this part of light duty now the baby has decided it’s time to actually show up. In a few weeks, he’ll be dealing with swollen ankles, most probably; for now, Buck just complains of feeling like a boxing bag, and having his center of gravity orient itself right at the bottom of his stomach. And –still– heartburn.

Eddie puts a glass of water besides Buck on his chosen bed. It’s the same as always – the one he sat with Buck after the waterpark, and the one he held him in after the cliff rescue. Buck isn’t sleeping, though his eyes are slightly drowsy when he looks at Eddie. He must have had a good meal.

“Thanks for dinner,” Eddie tells him, catching Buck’s eyes as he looks up. He gives Eddie a soft huff back.

“‘hanks for the water.” Buck sighs, stretching slightly on the bed. He lies more to the side, giving Eddie space to join him. He does.

Eddie doesn’t lay down this time; he sits against the bed’s headboard, and settles himself high enough that, turning on his side, Buck lays his head right on Eddie’s lap. He gives a content sigh at it, closing his eyes again, and Eddie sets a hand over Buck’s rowdy hair, sticking up everywhere after showering. Buck sleeps like a shrimp, curled on himself, and in this position, Eddie can just about reach down to Buck’s belly. Eddie doesn’t know what it says about the both of them that Buck lets him do it so naturally, only letting out another content little breath.

The baby’s quiet. It’s easier for Buck to feel them –obviously– even at the slightest of movements. Eyes closed, he wraps a hand around Eddie’s and moves it across his belly, stopping at the side he’s laying on the mattress. It’s just a moment until Eddie feels a slight flutter against where he’s pressing, Buck’s hand still on top of his, and smiles at the feeling.

“They’re setting down?” Eddie keeps his voice low, though they’re the only ones in the room. Buck smacks his lips loudly with none of that care, amusing and lovable and Buck , the same as always, making a sleepy hum at the back of his throat, and Eddie just love him so–

Oh.

“Baby’s finishing up karate practice,” Buck mumbles on Eddie’s lap, just slightly unintelligible. Eddie hears it as if across a fog, not that Buck can notice how fast his heart has started to beat. He keeps holding Eddie’s hand, feeling the baby’s movement. “They go a little more quiet when I sleep on my side.”

The last call –on the police’s side– was of domestic disturbance. It wasn’t the first time; that house had seen a number of wellness checks, none that ever worked. The husband hadn’t stopped with what made the noises even with his wife seven months pregnant. She let the police inside the house now, bleeding and too distraught on that porch, even after the 118 arrived. There was nothing to do, besides take her to the hospital. They knew that – she knew that. Eddie can’t get away from the sound of her sobbing.

He doesn’t know if anyone has told Buck about the call. He’d hope not – even if it’s not easy to pretend it didn’t happen. Everyone came back quieter and more down than how they left the station – and Buck, beside curious, is smarter than anyone ever gave him credit. He’s not asking anything now, though. He’s snug on the bed, head and knees against Eddie, well fed and ready to also be well rested, safe and comfortable, and Eddie thinks of it again, looking at him. Oh .

He doesn’t know whether to feel dumb. It’s not an abrupt breakthrough – it’s not really anything novel. Buck and him have been sharing beds for months , and longer before that, nothing that started with the baby. The first night Eddie had spent without Christopher he sobbed at the walls, and it was Buck that held him then. They have been taking care of each other for years – on beds, on couches, on rigs, walking together, working together, being together. The realization sets in place like keys in the ignition. Eddie’s heart starts.

Oh .

He moves his hand before Buck can notice anything – splaying his palm further on Buck’s baby bump. The flutters are going down, but Eddie can feel a weight and pressure in Buck’s side that must correspond to the baby; they’re setting down just like him.

He looks at Buck’s face – lax as he tries to go to sleep. His hair has grown in the last few months; it’s curled up more with the length, and falls slightly over his eyes with the way he has his face pressed to Eddie’s lap. Eddie brushes it from his face, watches Buck’s face soften further, and circles a thumb over his birthmark. He, a little naively, hopes the baby will have something like it.

“You okay?” Buck asks him, voice soft and mumbling with sleep. Despite everything Eddie is feeling, it’s easier for him to answer –just as softly– with, “Yes.”

“‘kay,” Buck sighs again. “‘Am gonna probably drool over ‘ur pants.”

Eddie snorts. “Alright.” He brings his hand across Buck’s hair, brushing it one way before bringing it back to the other, watching the strands curl around his fingers. “I’ll be here.”

–

It starts like a list in Eddie’s head. He’s being a little guileless maybe; Frank would talk with him about waiting for the ‘perfect time’, and Eddie remembers his own words at Chim, years ago. Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. Eddie knows that intimately. But he’s thinking of it like a gift – something for Buck, before he actually tells him.

“I’m thinking of going to pick Christopher up.”

Buck freezes in the middle of what he’s doing, a half-folded onesie dropping from his hands like in a stutter. Eddie smiles at it – the reaction he was waiting for, shock and then unbridled excitement, though Buck’s still shy of showing everything, holding himself back as he turns almost in slow motion back to Eddie.

“What,” the question blows from him, practically without intonation. Buck sees the smile on Eddie –this one unhidden– and the twitchyness of his hands only grows, still hovering in the air. “Eddie–”

“This is his home. And– and I’m his father. I’m willing to give him space and time, but I don’t want to keep doing that across state-lines. I want him here. We’re missing so much– He’s missing so much.” Eddie looks at Buck – a drawer emptied in the bedroom to fit newborn clothes. “I want all my family with me. Under the same roof.”

Buck’s breath stutters.

“D-do you mean that?” His voice sounds ready to crack at Eddie.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s own voice shivers at the prospect – sharing the same house with his son again, having him for all of this . “I’m not sure how I’ll have that conversation– but I need to have it.”

Buck is the one that starts the hug. The gratitude in it seems nonsensical, though that was already what Eddie expected. Buck doesn’t ever need to thank him – Eddie still hugs him back, tight between his own arms, feeling Buck’s face press against the crease of his shoulder.

Buck’s taller than him, but sitting down, side by side, they’re the same height. They fit like puzzle pieces.

Eddie hears and feels Buck’s air rushing out of him, a cloud of relief, weighted by months. He makes a similar sound.

–

They’re all in the firehouse’s loft, enjoying the brief stretch of calm – for long enough now there’s not even the general sense of an impending alarm. Buck’s laying in the middle couch, sideways –legs splayed over the cushions– eating from a jar of pickles while Chim and Bobby sit on the other sofa, entranced with the old movie that’s playing on TV. Hen is on the coffee table, turned to Buck, holding her tablet like she’s the one in clipboard duty for once.

“ Okay, ” she had said earlier, and Buck knew something was coming. “ I said I’d get you a baby shower, before, and my beautiful wife has also volunteered. She also made– ” Hen checked the number, “ six Excel sheets. ” When Buck laughed, Hen joined with a smile. “ So bear with me. ”

It’s not exactly torture – even if Karen has gone a little overboard. She had even made a list of party games. It’s not anything Buck would really get to enjoy, though – these days, he’s been getting so tired just standing around, most of the nights he goes to sleep before even ten.

It makes Hen rework some of Karen’s planning –Buck’s glad that’s a conversation Hen is going to have– but even just watching her stare intently at her tablet has made Buck’s heart warm. The last time he had a party planned for him was when he came back to work after the lightning, and before that, the surprise party in Bobby and Athena’s place, right before the embolism. Buck went sixteen years without parties to his name before the 118, and now even his birthdays get a little cake from Hen – even if they don’t always have the time to do a big celebration.

“Who do you want for the baby shower?”

“You guys, obviously,” Buck’s content enough to answer – even if Hen’s kind of looming. He’s comfy and well-fed, and the focus on Hen’s face –all for him– makes Buck go all gooey inside. “It’s not like I know anyone else,” he still adds, just to see Hen raise an eyebrow at him while failing not to snicker.

“I was asking about the kids . You said yourself you don’t want anything too loud – and we’re doing this right before evening. Also…” Hen’s voice goes a little quiet. “I don’t want to– hurt Eddie.”

Any other time, a party would be planned exclusively for Bobby and Athena’s backyard. They’re still living in a hotel though, waiting for the plot of land to start being rebuild. Seeing as the baby shower is for Buck, choosing Eddie’s place to host it was a moot point, but Hen isn’t wrong in her worry. The last few times all of them came together Eddie’s eyes would go a little blank every time he saw the team’s children.

Chris is coming back. Buck knows he’s coming back – he already knew before, in the vague sense that there was no way Eddie would allow him to live permanently with his grandparents, but now there’s actually the certainty of something. Eddie said he’d let him finish his midterm tests, but he was going to talk with him – get Chris to come home. Buck knows that’s going to happen.

It doesn’t stop his heart from aching for a moment. They haven’t told anyone Eddie was planning all of that either. Buck just stops snacking, having to swallow thickly – for more than one reason.

“He’ll be okay,” he answers Hen, a little quietly. Buck –intently– refuses to look at the empathetic expression on her face. “But, uhm. Maybe lower Denny’s expectations? I dunno how fun a b-bunch of adults showing baby things is gonna be.”

That makes Hen smile a little bit. “That’s alright, Buckaroo.” She pats him gently on the calf. The affection is very welcomed, especially with what Hen has to say next. Buck –returning to his pickles– shouldn’t have been clueless to her next look at her tablet, a slight grimace coming to her face. “Ok – don’t have me for what I’m about to ask now. But. Do you want to invite your parents?”

It would be silly to go all cold – Buck doesn’t. His parents were never at the level of bringing in him a sense of fear, fortunately; mostly, Buck just felt uncomfortable when anyone mentioned parents, and asked about his. That feeling remained when the 118 actually met them.

He does such a good job of not thinking about them –bar the sense of betrayal when he discovered he was a carrier, all those months ago– Buck genuinely did not consider they would also be getting a new grandkid out of this. The reminder is uncomfortable in ways he’s not prepared for; Buck feels a little nauseous at even the idea of his parents knowing he’s expecting.

“ No ,” he answers Hen immediately. She doesn’t miss the hurry on his voice, or the duress. Even Chim and Bobby momentarily forget about their movie; Buck shakes his head at all of them, trying to backtrack. “I mean– they d-don’t even know. And I, I didn’t really think y-yet about them being, uhm, part of the baby’s life.”

“That’s okay,” Hen assures him; Buck doesn’t know if the gentleness of her voice helps, or if just makes him feel worse.

“Yeah, thanks for letting us know,” Chim follows up. Turning on his seat, an arm over his couch’s backrest, he looks at Buck earnestly. “I’ll talk with Maddie to keep things quiet. She hasn’t said anything yet about her own pregnancy either.”

Yet , Buck repeats in his head. He nods at Chim, and gives a reassuring smile to Bobby, until they both return to their movie. He can’t really imagine a world his parents dote on a grandchild from him; they’re generally better grandparents than just parents –Jee loves them– and Buck’s sure that the fact he’s Evan wouldn’t deter them. His parents would find a way to love his child as much as they never loved him; that’s a bit of the problem, as much as thinking about it makes Buck feel infinitely selfish.

He clears his throat, looking back to Hen just to get rid of those thoughts. “Ok. What’s the next thing?”

Hen is still grimacing though.

“First, I just want to say this is a reach, okay? But is Eddie inviting his parents?”

She’s apologetic at her own question, which Buck can appreciate; he doesn’t even know how to start. Suddenly, Buck’s very glad that Eddie chose to use the downtime in the station to workout; he can’t imagine Eddie would have a better reaction than him about his own parents.

“No,” Buck answers simply – even if there’s another rock in his chest. He looks around a bit, like Eddie will overhear even just this.

“I had to ask. I know you’re going to co-parent – just wanted to know…y’know. So I guess they don’t know either?” At Buck’s shaky nod, Hen’s grimace furthers. “That sucks. I can’t imagine it’s been easy to get Chris to keep it a secret.”

It takes everything from Buck not to grimace too. “We’re working on it,” he says, vague. It’s just the previous discomfort in his face that makes her assume Buck’s just tired at the entire line of questioning.

She brings her tablet down, turning off the screen. “I think that’s alright for now.” Hen gives Buck a stabilizing smile; he tries to match, but knows just by the feel of his face that it doesn’t work. “I already tortured you long enough.”

“Why are you torturing Buck?”

Eddie saunters up the loft, a towel strung around his neck. He’s still sweaty from the workout, red face glistening under the station’s light as he looks inquisitively –smiling just a bit teasing– between Hen and Buck. The image brings another uncomfortable pang to Buck’s stomach and he finds he has had enough pickles; he looks down to close the jar, and ignores both Eddie’s post-workout glow and the answer Hen gives him.

“Just talking about the baby shower.”

“Party planning with a pregnant person?” Eddie gives out a big, dramatic breath. Buck hates that he’s so effortless charming – he hates even more that it works so completely on himself, in that confusing way he’s been intently not thinking about.

Eddie sits by his side, plopping himself down on the couch as Hen leaves. His huff of breath at the action is honest, as is the open look he turns to Buck, not a gram of teasing anymore.

“Hey.” Eddie smiles in greeting – the one that creates crow’s feet beneath his eyes, soft and loving. Buck is still recovering from it – of course Eddie works on him, he’s bisexual, it doesn’t have to mean anything, Buck just hadn’t considered that before– when Eddie looks at the jar in his hands and gasps. “ Hey! You’re eating pickles? That’s way too much sodium.”

Buck doesn’t resist as Eddie takes the jar from his hands; he’s full, anyway. “The salt is the best part,” he still says, because that’s their song and dance. Eddie’s slight glare still makes his chest warm.

But then Eddie looks down – right at his baby bump. He ducks just slightly, head curving closer to Buck’s stomach, not that many inches, but more than Buck expects, and talks like Buck doesn’t expect either.

“Your dad’s a bit of a glutton,” he tells Buck’s belly –the baby– with the same teasing from before, just with a slightly softer voice. Raising just his eyes, Eddie looks at Buck from underneath his lashes. “Don’t worry. I'll keep a check on you two.” He smiles.

Fuck, Buck thinks.

-

It keeps happening , Eddie thinks.

He’ll wake up in the morning, and look at Buck – still asleep. Hair ruffled and drool trailing across his cheek, and soft like nothing else in his old hoodies and the low light.

He’ll go shopping with him, and see Buck’s eyes shine at something silly, a sale, a new flavor of cereal, the biscuits he ate when he was a kid and sick.

He’ll take him to the doctor, and see him smile at every ultrasound – the small way Buck does when he’s so happy about something, he’s scared to show.

Eddie looks at him, and watches him, and sees him drool, and snore, and laugh, and smile, and try not to cry during movies because of his hormones, and try not to cry in the station’s bathroom after the team comes back from a tough call he couldn’t be there for, and try not to laugh in the doctor’s room when Eddie says they’re shy , yet another time they can’t find out the baby’s sex, and he loves him so much, he doesn’t know how it took him so long to notice it. How it took this.

Eddie wouldn’t have any other way.

-

It keeps happening , Buck thinks.

He’ll wake up in the morning with Eddie watching him, like he’s something precious, even if there’s dried saliva at the side of his face. He’ll putter around during groceries, and take too long, and talk too much, and Eddie will be watching him like he’s worth everything. He’ll look at him in the doctor, and find that Eddie looks as happy as him.

Eddie’s eyes shine like gold under the light. Eddie’s cheeks go pink when he’s happy, or when he’s embarrassed – they’ll go pink every time a stranger asks him, When is your husband due , and Buck knows it’s not only because of the husband part. His hair flops on his face when he’s working; it flops on his face when he’s cooking; it flops on his face when he curves down, looking at Buck’s stomach – touching a gentle hand against the baby.

They share a house; they share a bed. They’ll share childcare, soon enough; the joy and the stress, and –Buck keeps hoping– it won’t just be with the baby, but Chris again too. It makes sense his head would be a little fried – a little confused. Eddie is the steadiest thing in Buck’s life; he has a hot mustache and still works out five days a week, and Buck hasn’t been intimate with anyone for almost seven months. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

But Buck keeps looking at Eddie, and Eddie keeps already being there to meet him.

Eddie looks at him like he’s something precious. A glass of water on his nightstand, the few, old tea boxes for nausea that have been left inside the cupboards. Eddie takes care of him – Eddie looks like he loves to. And of course the baby is precious – of course the baby deserves to be taken care of. But even when Eddie’s holding his belly, it’s still Buck’s eyes he’s looking back to.

Ok , Buck thinks. He wakes up to Eddie and walks back to him in the grocery store and squeezes his hand at the doctor’s, and he breathes in and lets go. Ok .

-

Hen made a shared, online registry for everything Buck wants –needs, really– to get in the baby shower, and he keeps it open in basically every device he and Eddie own. On his Ipad open apps, it’s right behind the page Eddie uses to video call Chris.

“Hey, Superman!” he says, as soon as the call starts. These days, the nickname is more of Buck’s thing than Eddie’s own; Chris shrugs at it more than he shows distaste or like, but Eddie knows he’s more or less grown out of the childhood nickname. Buck’s generally allowed more whimsy just by who he is. When Chris comes back –when, not if– he’d play legos with Buck again just because Buck loves crafts.

“Hey, dad,” Chris’s answer is less lively. That doesn’t necessarily have to mean something; he’s a teenager, for one. But he looks tired through the screen. Eddie frowns.

“Are you okay? You look a little under the weather?”

He and Chris are good enough now that Eddie is allowed a little hovering; just a few months ago, Chris wouldn’t even speak to him. Now –despite the tiredness– Chris answers his truthfully. “I think I ran out of batteries.”

Eddie snorts at him; he’s allowed to smile softly at Chris too. “Yeah? Those tests were hard?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Chris grumbles –Eddie’s smile pick up further– “but there were, like, a lot of them. It’s stupid we’ll still have class next week. There should be a midterm pre-summer vacation.”

There can be , Eddie thinks. Come home . He could speak with Christopher’s school today – ask for his transfer, and pick up from where he left over in California. They could have the weekend to pack things up –Eddie could fly there to bring Chris back– and he’d be back to Los Angeles before the next week. He could sleep in his own bed again – eat Buck’s lasagna.

But Chris looks tired – too tired. Is not that Eddie thinks the risk of him saying no is as high as before – but even if he said yes, Chris isn’t spry enough for something as exhausting as a move across state lines. Eddie doesn’t have to rush this.

“You would love that,” he answers Chris with instead, having to backtrack to what they were talking about. His voice lands as quiet – Eddie hopes Chris just hears softness in it. He has time , he repeats. “Do you want to leave the call for another time? Go to sleep?”

“Really?” Chris almost looks surprised. With his brow furrowed like this, he looks eight again.

“ Of course ,” Eddie tells him, hurt that he’s even asking. “Come on. We rescheduled a bunch of times. I’m not going to be offended that you’re tired, you’re almost a highschooler. I can call you later today.”

“Oh,” Chris’ face goes soft. Eddie’s almost scared he’ll misunderstand him, like it happened so much on the first calls; so angry with Eddie it was easy to think the worst of him. But Chris smiles, shy, almost – it feels like a balm. “Thanks, dad.”

Eddie smiles – deep and reassuring. “I’ve got you, kid.”

-

They go to a furniture store to personally canvass the things needed for the baby nook – the corner of Eddie’s room that has been turned into a nursery. Buck is happy enough about building a list online –he’d get to link it to Hen’s registry, for one– but Eddie is of the rare breed that doesn’t trust in online buying; as much as they argue, Eddie’s puts his feet down on this one.

“We won’t even know the size. How can you buy something if you’re not seeing it?”

“There’s pictures – and measurements.”

“You know full well the product doesn’t always match the advertisement, Amazon-buy boy.” Last year, Buck bought a pijama match that came in a different design than the pictures; to this day, he has no idea what was going on (the pijama was soft enough – he kept it the way it came). “No way that we’re banking the baby's comfort and safety on a thing you can’t see and feel for yourself.”

That’s a sweet concern; besides a geriatric –funny– hang up. Even while arguing with Eddie, the piece of Buck’s heart that fires up with banter huffed and puffed in contentment. Buck still argued that they could just measure the furniture on pieces of paper and put them around the bedroom to try and imagine the changing table plus dresser combo Buck was coveting, but that just made Eddie wag his finger with more force.

“You’re introducing more steps to this thing when you can just drive to a store .”

“Which is no step at all – of course .”

Despite arguing, Buck was already ready for the trip out. If there was anything more fun than a silly argument with Eddie, it was running errands by his side. He still sighed and huffed during the drive, making a show of rolling his eyes whenever Eddie restarted with his arguments; when they were both done, anyway, he and Eddie were always smiling at the road.

This store is more upscale than they generally go with. The crib mounted and already waiting in Eddie’s room came from a mom-and-pop much lower in the price range – but it wouldn’t be Buck and Eddie that would be paying for the rest of the furniture, of course. There’s a part of Buck that’s almost guilty for wanting pricier things, but Eddie’s more relaxed; he’s gone through this already. For as little as Buck knows about his and Chris’ initial life in El Paso, he supposes a teenager Eddie would have had to rely on his parents to prepare to receive a baby. Buck’s glad that at least this Eddie hasn’t let weight him down with guilt; he decides to follow the lead.

They’re not going to take too much from this store, or any of the sort. Most of the things in the registry are simpler: a diaper bag and its typical components, double in quantity just in case; blankets and rags; baby slings for their first few months, and then two carriers for when they’re a bit older.

Buck and Eddie are leaving soft toys open for whatever their friends are willing to give them –Buck knows they’ll probably get at least one from everyone– but the clothes are already fine. With the hand-me-downs from Maddie, and the few more pieces Eddie and him have been buying in the last months (baby clothes are just so cute !) the baby’s going to be more than alright in the dressing department.

Buck’s already past the stage of being hit with the knowledge he’s going to have a baby, but he still feels a sense of wonder –and alarm– at each piece of furniture he and Eddie walk by. That’s natural, he supposes – Buck is probably going to keep being surprised even while holding his child. That’s not even that long from now anymore.

Eddie and him manage to find the exact piece of furniture that he looked at in the online store, more expensive in person, but Eddie just pointedly widens his eyes at Buck until he backs off. Eddie’s the one that talks with the employee about the transaction, and how it would work with a registry, and while they talk shop Buck wanders away, entertained enough to admire the bits and bobs of the rest of the store. Practically every piece of decoration dedicated to babies is designed to make people give up their money as fast as possible; because Buck can, he writes down the type and maker of some of the pieces, hoping that someone would give them some as a bonus. It would be nice for the baby to have something of their own – even if they’ll be living in the corner of the room for a little while.

Buck’s recognized as a parent when he’s in these places. Everywhere he goes now people can more or less guess he’s pregnant –he’s not carrying as small anymore– but here, the space for doubt is even smaller. Buck still isn’t sure what to think when an employee asks him conversationally if he’s having a daughter or a son.

He’s not uncomfortable by it. At the start, he was mostly weirded out at the difference; there wasn’t a moment when he was growing up that he thought that this might have been in the cards, and it took a second for Buck to get used to the feeling. He doesn’t mind people’s assumptions, since most are actually right. He is getting a baby, and he’s the one who’ll actually bring them into this world.

Buck likes his body. He has, historically, maybe liked it a bit too much – he used to go all in in those calendar competitions, when he started on the LFAD, until watching his fat percentage just turned in too much of a hassle. He likes feeling big; he likes feeling strong. Now he’s bigger in a different way though, and it’s not like he’s been hitting the gym in the third semester.

Buck can still recognize his body, but just so. His hips are slightly wider. There are new stretch marks on his stomach, wrapping around the growth – more visible now than ever before. His nipples have gone darker, though he still isn’t sure if he’ll actually be able to nurse, since the size of his chest hasn’t changed. The tattoo at the side of his abdomen is slightly distended, and it won’t be long before the Xs beneath his left pec are too.

Buck isn’t shy, exactly, but he knows he doesn’t exactly look the same as seven months ago. The idea of having to go back to the gym fills him with more excitement than frustration, but Buck won’t deny that he still dresses baggy when he’s in public. Even if that’s hardly still effective.

“Buck?”

He doesn’t jump a foot in the air at his name. As typically clumsy and oblivious to his surroundings –bar when on the job– Buck is, he’s a pregnant person; he’s getting too heavy and tired to react exaggeratedly. And that means something, especially when it’s this voice; Buck recognizes it before even turning, and he’s only shocked further when he does so and actually finds Taylor Kelly.

“Taylor!” Buck’s eyes have to be the size of saucers. Whatever is that saying about forks found in the kitchen, this is the opposite: the last place Buck would expect to see Taylor again would be in a baby store. He actually ogles her stomach for a moment, when the initial shock goes away, scared of what he’ll find. “Uhm, w-what are you doing here?”

Taylor rolls her eyes. “It’s not for me.”

Ah – sure . Buck shuffles back, feeling more than one type of awkward.

Taylor looks good; she always did, but now, dressed in a neat blazer-trouser combo, she really does look like a world famous reporter. Her hair is still as long and red as before, and Buck feels a little like a barn bin animal standing in front of her, curls sticking everywhere because he poked his head outside in the drive after a gush of wind. Pregnancy hot spots are no joke.

The last Buck checked on her –he likes snooping on his exes’ social media, sue him– Taylor left day to day coverage; had gone fully into the investigative side of reporting. There was a recent Op-ed about corruption with her name, Buck thinks. He genuinely has no idea what she’d be doing here.

Taylor probably has a little idea why he is, though.

She eyes his belly just for a moment. It’s time enough for anyone, and even more for a person with such a keen eye. Buck doesn’t catch any judgement on Taylor’s face as she glances back to him, but she was always pretty good with lies; that was kind of what had cost their relationship.

“I’m here for my old boss’ sake,” Taylor offers on her own. She has one of the neat shopping bags the store provides customers, Buck notices – Taylor pulls out a cute plushie from it for a second, like proof in court. She’s giving him the space to give her the news on his own.

“Oh,” he says at the plushie, and putters for a nice while. “Uhm– I. I’m h-here for me.”

Taylor doesn’t feign surprise, which Buck’s thankful for. He knows he looks like he’s hiding a basketball beneath his clothes. Avocado’s evolved to a rockmelon already.

“That’s…nice,” Taylor struggles. Buck knows it’s nothing personal; she wasn’t really a big kids person. They were never going to work out, Buck thinks. “Is it nice?”

Buck smiles at her. “It is nice,” he reassures. Buck finds it isn’t all that weird to be standing in front of Taylor again, even with all the changes; it wouldn’t have been so different if they met a bar instead of an aisle of rattle toys. He still sticks his hands inside his pockets, instead of parking them on his bump like he does at home. “I’m, uh. I'm seven months already. We’re here to buy furniture.”

One of Taylor’s neat eyebrows raise in question, almost nostalgic for Buck to watch, as she asks him, “We?”

“Me and Eddie.” Taylor’s face does something complicated, but Buck can’t watch for long – like a creature that has been summoned, Buck catches a glimpse of a mustached man coming their way, too focused on the paper in his hand to pay attention to who is in front of Buck.

“Buck, did we put a car seat in the registry? I don’t remember if we did – I was looking through their inventory and- Oh.”

It’s more fun to watch Eddie’s face completely turn over on his expression when it’s in front of strangers. Buck quite likes Taylor, despite how they ended things – there’s nothing in this exchange that’s changed that, either. He has half a mind to knock an elbow against Eddie’s side so he doesn’t look like he’s swallowed such a sour lemon, noticing her.

“...Hi, Taylor,” Eddie gives her his best fake neutrality. He sounds like a computer that’s been a little fried.

“Hi, Eddie.” Taylor, on the contrary, doesn’t seem that she could possibly look any more entertained. It’s with a slight sense of danger that Buck notices that as she glances between him and Eddie – not just Eddie on his own. Buck ends up putting a hand on his shoulder, like it’s a warning, but it doesn’t seem to help in any which way; Taylor looks like a shark that just smelled blood.

“I didn’t expect to find you here. Right, Buck?” Eddie doesn’t look commiserating at all.

“Uh,” Buck stammers, “s-sure.”

He doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Taylor never has the time to walk in circles. She looks at Buck, then Eddie, then Buck’s hand on his shoulder, and the other hand Eddie puts on the small of his back – a common touch by now, but not one that’s painting the best picture. “So,” she looks back at Buck. “You got together after all.”

He feels Eddie freeze from skin to bone, a palpable change in the way his body is held up. Expecting it doesn’t help that much – Buck still feels his stomach go cold at Taylor’s suggestion.

“W-we’re, uhm, not. The baby’s ours – I mean, the baby isn’t Eddie’s, but m-me and him are going to raise them together, but we’re not– together-together.” The explanations he tries to give sound worse than just keeping silent, and that’s how Buck ends up after all, feeling his face color. It isn't helped even slightly with the expression on Taylor’s face.

It’s not as if she’s accusing them of anything – not like Tommy. After all doesn’t sound as bad as finally , or like anything that Tommy tried to suggest about him being hung up on Eddie. Buck’s aware that he is actually, but he wasn’t when he was with Tommy – at least not consciously. He certainly didn't know about it when he was with Taylor; Buck hadn’t even done anything with a guy by then.

“Sure,” Taylor over-enunciates, drawing out the word. Eddie keeps silent at Buck’s side, which is worse. Now they both look like socially inept men.

Looking between them, Taylor actually snorts. It’s not derisive –not entirely – but Buck still feels like every time someone could suss out every one of his weaknesses; out of all of them, Eddie has always been one of the biggest. Now, Buck knows the reason.

“I actually need to go,” Taylor says, though she keeps smiling, looking far too entertained. “I need to drop this gift at a party and go to work. But for what it’s worth, congratulations.” She looks pointedly at Buck. “And good luck .”

Buck’s face flames at the vague meaning. Eddie keeps frozen at his side, clueless, at least, but his hand is stiff on Buck’s back – even if he hasn’t let him go. It’s with a sense of tired resignation that Buck realizes that he can’t actually let Taylor either, watching her big hair flow behind. He sighs, and unglues himself from Eddie’s touch, following Taylor before she has more than a foot between them.

“W-wait – Tay!” She still has a raised eyebrow when she stops, and Buck has to remind himself this has nothing to do with him and Eddie. “Uhm, I actually– I actually wanted to t-talk with you about something with, with your job. A friend of mine has been, ah, struggling with a councilwoman. She had her foster license taken because of her – unreasonably.”

The talk of corruption gives another thing for Taylor to raise her perfect eyebrows at. It –and the reminder of who Buck can be possibly helping– is the only thing that forces him to keep going.

“I can give you my friend’s number. She really needs the help – probably more people too. If you, uh, are interested.”

“I’m always interested when it’s serious.” Taylor smiles at him – more subdued, this time, as she watches him for a moment. “I got you, Buckley.

This time, as Taylor walks away, Buck lets her go. He watches her vanish for a second time – maybe this will be the last.

When Buck turns back to Eddie, he’s just slightly more aware than before. His cheeks are red again, Buck thinks. It matches the color of his lips, as he wets his bottom one.

It takes active control for Eddie to actually begin to speak again. “The registry.” He raises his hand – the written-down list of what they’re asking their friends to buy. “A car seat.”

“Let’s go find one,” Buck answers quietly. They walk through the next aisles with their hands to themselves, eyes straight ahead.

The employee that helps them is polite. They’re different from the one that talked earlier with Eddie, and now it’s mostly Buck that carries on the conversation, Eddie unusually quiet behind him. He asks about car seats – where they can find them, if they can test some for safety. That’s a bonus of being a firefighter, at least – Buck and Eddie have done so many health and safety demonstrations they could set a carseat with their eyes closed.

Buck keeps his open. He looks at some of the stock that is shown, imagines his baby sitting on one of the seats, growing a little bit each new week. It’s a better distraction than the conversation with Taylor. Eddie keeps quiet.

The employee assumes they’re together – like everyone one does, and like it only sometimes makes Eddie go apparently mute. They don’t say anything specific; it’s just the general assumption with how they talk with Buck and Eddie, asking the type of their (their) car, if they (they) have any other children, if this is their (their) first one. Buck is getting ready to correct them, almost desperate by the last one, but in the end, it’s Eddie that speaks up, that hand coming to rest on Buck’s lower back again.

“It’s not our first,” he answers the employee. He looks at them head on.

Buck swallows thickly, and feel his heart open up soft-part first like a baking bread’s cracking crust.

-

The ride home is quiet. Eddie feels strangely reminiscent of the first time he drove Buck to his house after he had his blood drawn, in the grand scheme of things not even that long ago. Eddie can't even argue his life has changed too drastically. He always loved Buck. He just took his time to realize it. Now, Buck isn't the only thing Eddie loves.

Maybe that's what makes him so scared; what makes him so undeterred too. Eddie can imagine the life he could have with Buck if he allows himself to walk through the first threshold; sleeping together and bathing together and loving together, and simply together, each hand at the side of their baby as they move along. Eddie and Buck would be partners in the last way they still weren't. It isn't so hard to take the plunge, if that is what waits for Eddie.

He remembers his first time with Shannon like it's been printed in a crystal glass – mostly because it wasn't that good (all his fault). Shannon was his first, and for a while, he thought she’d be his last. They were young; Shannon wasn't Eddie’s first kiss (he’d had kissed two other girls before, since seventh grade, though none of them could have been called girlfriends) but it was the first one he actually liked. He felt a connection to Shannon – had wanted to make her impressed and happy and pleased, and they managed to date for two months before she got pregnant.

He finds the humor of being so like Buck; neither of them were very good with condoms. All of those years ago, Shannon felt like where Eddie’s life was going to begin and end, and he'd be alright with it if that was all he knew. Now –he knows he can't compare, and it really isn't the same– but it's not that simple anymore.

He doesn't think he loves Shannon or Buck more than the other; he doesn't think they quantify the same. When Buck’s baby is born, the love Eddie will feel for them will probably follow the same rule when compared to Chris; not more, or less, but different.

Eddie doesn't want to fail his best friend’s baby. He doesn't want to fail his best friend either. And it’s mostly that that powers him, driving through LA’s shitty traffic in a dead silent Denali –they’ll have to get rid of one of the cars, two 4x4 are too swanky for a household with a baby– and pulling up at his house’s driveway. Buck didn't speak with him, when he first came from the doctor –he hid in the bathroom, before Eddie followed after him– but this time he’s waiting for Eddie: hands held together, anxious and restless as he squeezes them on his lap. Even if Buck still won’t look at him.

“The kitchen,” Eddie tells him, voice quiet. Buck complies in much the same silence, leaving the car right in front of Eddie, until they’re stepping through the front door and following down to the kitchen, tittering in nerves like two twin atoms.

Buck’s pretty in a way that Eddie had never taken notice of before. He usually didn't, right until the last moment. What first attracted him to Shannon, when they met each other again, was how charming she looked; everyone was speaking to her at the lake party. It was only when Eddie was kissing her for the first time, weeks after, that he thought she was the prettiest girl in the whole of El Paso. He's always been aware that Buck is attractive, the way that you know about the sun and the moon, but now Eddie looks at him and sees the pink of his mouth and his birthmark, the soft look he has when his stubble has grown, the high ridge of his nose. His pale eyelashes.

They go sit side by side on the kitchen table. Eddie can't think about putting any more distance than that of those chairs. He almost putters in the kitchen –brings Buck yet another cup of water– but that's distance too, and time. Buck is looking way too expectantly at him, now that he meets Eddie’s eyes.

He's soft. He's always been soft – wearing dish gloves despite how goofy they looked, and those thousand aprons he's gathered, the old hoodies, his pink cardigan. Eddie thinks it's true what people say about a pregnancy glow, but Buck does most of the time; he's bright and he's sweet and he's looking at Eddie, has been looking at Eddie. Looked anxious in front of Taylor-fucking-Kelly and then flustered each time the store’s clerk assumed they were a couple. Eddie doesn't want Buck to feel like that because he's unsure. He doesn't want Buck to be unsure.

“I had a plan,” Eddie starts – somewhat lamely. Truth be told, he doesn't really know how else to. He feels his face heat, but it's not embarrassment what Eddie is feeling.

“A plan?” Buck repeats – lips parted. Eddie nods before he realizes Buck is trying to make him move along; scratches at the hair on his nape when he finally does.

“I, uh. I wanted to,” Eddie clears his throat, “have Chris back at home, first. I wanted everyone to be together. Before– before I told you.”

“Told me?”

Eddie can't help it – he snorts, even if Buck’s eyes are shining a little.

“You're just going to keep repeating me?” he teases, until Buck’s smile opens too, the same as his, and he lets Eddie go. “Okay. Okay.”

He takes a deep breath.

“I, uh. I might have been too imprudent, when I said the things I did about being with y-you and the baby. Not because I don’t want to, ” Eddie stresses before Buck’s face can fall – though it remains only looking expectant, and so, so hopeful. “But b-because I might want more.” Eddie takes another breath; feels the clench of his lungs. “I want to do everything with you. I want all with you.”

“Like partners?” Buck asks, and Eddie almost wants to sigh in frustration, keeping his breath steady instead.

“Yes, but–”

“Like co-parents?” Buck interrupts him, and Eddie actually laughs, all nerves.

“Like parents.” He feels his eyes glisten. “Like– we're together. As together as we can be. Like everyone thinks we already are.”

Buck’s air leaves him in a rush – Eddie would react more, did Buck leave any time for him, between raising himself from his chair and crossing the singular step towards Eddie, hands already up as he pleaded, “Why didn't you say so?”

Buck’s lips are soft too. Chapped, after a trip to the furniture store, but they’re no less soft or sweet. Eddie could have kissed him beneath the rain, or with those clouds of plaster after the bridge collapse, or he could have kissed right in the moment he said he had gone on a date with Tommy, and the feeling would be the same. It's Buck. Eddie, for once, doesn't find it in himself to regret the time that’s gone; it brought the both of them right to here.

Buck hovers taller than him, mouth moving against Eddie’s, until he lets himself fall over his lap. Eddie doesn't feel any weight, no discomfort, just the sweet pressure of having Buck right by his arms, turning his head until they’re licking inside each other’s mouth. Buck’s everything is sweet – his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Eddie wants to have everything, him as a whole, and he holds Buck against him for a second as they keep and keep kissing, feeling their faces fit against each other.

Eddie is the first one to pull back, forcing both of them to take a breath. Buck’s face is red when he looks at him, flushed already, hard breaths blowing against Eddie’s skin. It's as warm as Buck’s cheek feels when Eddie raises a hand to cradle it, admiring Buck’s face for a moment.

“I love you.” It makes Buck give out a happy, bright breath, full of wonder, and Eddie wants to keep saying it for the rest of time, so he can keep hearing it. “You and Chris are the most important people in my life, a-and this baby will be too. I want to keep close to you.”

Buck’s eyes are still shining as he cups Eddie’s face back. “Then be close to me.”

Buck walks him to the bedroom – steps quiet and soft across the hallway, all lights turned off since they came home. The bedroom’s blue when they come in, but none of them turn to the light switch; Buck walks backward into the room, his second hand wrapping around Eddie’s, and they keep looking only at each other's eyes – even when Buck leads Eddie to take off his clothes first.

They help each other – a jacket pulled away, then a hoodie, then a shirt. Pulling aside for a moment to step out of pants, until it's Buck and Eddie in their underwear and in front of each other with everything bared, the only sounds in the room their breathing.

It's been some time since Eddie last saw Buck in any true state of undress. He didn't use the common showers, after getting pregnant, and aside from that day when he let Eddie see and touch his four-month belly, Buck didn't stand shirtless in front of anyone. Even in the ultrasound he only rucked up his shirt. Now, Eddie can see him entirely: the stringy hair that trails his chest, disappears and returns at his navel; the new softness to his flesh, now that he’s not working out like before; his tattoos; how far his flush reaches; Buck’s belly, and the curve and weight the baby, at seven months, has become.

Eddie cups Buck’s cheek with one hand and his bump with the other, as reverent as he ever could touch someone, and dips his face towards him until they’re kissing again.

He leads Buck slowly to the bed – carefully despite their shut eyes. Eddie thinks he wants to watch Buck for the rest of his life, but kissing him is too good to keep his eyes open; Buck’s warm from breath, to tongue, to lips, to cheek, to bump, and Eddie wants to taste him from the inside out, feel everything and pull every tiny noise. Buck sighs and hums against Eddie, whining softly as he lays him on the bed, Eddie on top with his legs bracketing Buck’s hips. Half naked as they are, Eddie feels Buck’s semi pressing against him as much as he feels his own, filling up. He trails the hand around the baby down, down, down, until he's hovering on top of Buck’s already damp briefs.

“How do you want to do this?” Eddie looks Buck in the eyes, searching them. Face to face as they are, it's almost easy to feel like the bedroom's warm; each of their hot breaths fan each other’s face, and Eddie can feel the tremble on Buck’s.

He has to swallow to be able to speak, voice cracking up at the first word. “C-can you touch me?” Buck looks almost embarrassed, unimaginable for a man that, as far as Eddie knows, has a body count that stretches across the Americas. There’s a vulnerability to Buck that Eddie hasn’t seen before –not like this– and he can’t wait to see every new thing he can discover from Buck; how his face looks as he comes, what is the sound that leaves his mouth. Eddie nods to him, nuzzling his nose against Buck’s, and ducks down to peper a line of kisses from his jaw to his throat.

Buck parks a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, trembling as he makes his way across Buck’s body. He’s sensitive in a way that Eddie knows it’s from the pregnancy – Shannon was much the same, and Eddie is 19 and 33, moving across his best friend’s body as he gathers how good he’s doing by their breathless noises. Buck trembles when Eddie reaches his chest, and as he licks a line down and across one of his nipples, Buck shakes strongly enough that his back arches from the bed for a moment.

“F-fuck.”

“Good?” Eddie raises just his eyes back to Buck’s face, seeing his new shade of red. Buck’s breathing like he’s in a marathon, still trembling.

“Y-yeah.”

Eddie licks him there a second and then a third time, kissing before nibbling gently at the base of one of his pecs. Buck whimpers and whines at the ceiling, eyes cramming shut, and Eddie squeezes comfortingly at the side of his torso with a hand.

Eddie keeps moving down, a hand remaining by Buck’s pecs so he can brush a thumb over the sensitive skin again. As Eddie passes by the baby, he presses a kiss to the very top of the bump, before moving downward, until he’s by Buck’s briefs, taking it off with a quiet thanks as Buck raises his bottom from the bed for a moment to help him. There’s a head of hair right by the base of Buck’s cock, the same pale color as the strands on his chest, and it’s already damp with his pre-cum. Eddie brings a thumb over the wetness, feeling between desire and fascination, until Buck’s entire body shudders as Eddie grazes his dick; he stops just to glance at him.

“You okay?”

Buck nods fervently, but he’s breathing even heavier. Eddie can already guess why –Buck’s cock looks so red it’s almost purple– though it’s worth hearing Buck confess, “I’m t-too close,” just for the molten feeling that brings to Eddie’s stomach. “I’m not g-gonna last if you touch m-me there.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Buck opens his eyes, looking right to down to Eddie’s with a sudden show of abashedness, as he whispers, “Can you fuck me?”

Eddie nods, just to have something to do; he feels crazed, almost, watching Buck twitch and sweat, moving in a wobbly way as Eddie helps him on his knees and elbows, turning around until it’s Buck’s cheeks that are in front of Eddie. He’s pink there too, flush reaching all the way down, and as Eddie moves himself to hover over Buck, bearing his weight down over an arm, while the other steadies Buck, he has to suck at his shoulder blades just to keep his sanity.

Buck cries out at the feeling, trembling. He’s not holding his own weight well, sensitive as he is, elbows shaking on the mattress like baby trees in the wind, and Eddie wraps the arm around him more securely, hand splaying at the side of his belly. Stomach down, it sags more noticeably. Eddie cradles it, thinking – Buck’s baby . His and Buck’s baby.

Eddie has to let him go momentarily, moving up on the bed to reach the nightstand –pull the lube he only ever used for masturbating (what feels like years ago) from one of its drawers– but as he returns he goes back to holding Buck, freeing up his other hand to reach hesitantly down to his hole. Eddie has never done this – he doesn’t think he has to warn Buck, but still he lets out an unsure breath, feeling against the furled muscle with his thumb. Buck is still trembling.

“S-start with a finger. L-lube it a lot.” Buck breathes heavily as Eddie coats his hand, and lets something between a groan and a gasp as he finally enters him with a –heavily lubed– forefinger. “E-Eddie. Eddie .”

This part is not so different from what Eddie had done with women before. He moves his finger in and out, making sure to stress at Buck’s walls, before bringing a second finger inside, scissoring him. Buck swings between whines and heavy breathes, both going straight to Eddie’s dick, and it takes more than a little self-control to continue to prep him slowly.

Eddie applies as much lube as he thinks he needs, moving along, until Buck’s hole is glistening around his fingers right before Eddie takes them out, making a filthy, wet sound as he does. Eddie hopes he’s doing a good enough job at improvisation, but with the way Buck’s head has almost fallen to the bed, Eddie’s probably alright. He pets Buck’s side reassuringly, giving a quick kiss to the base of his spine, before aligning their hips, breathing a little unsteadily himself.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck ,” Eddie stammers out as he starts sinking in; Buck groans in a continuous note, ready to let his weight fall on the bad, weren’t Eddie’s arm still holding him, and they share the same body-wide static. Eddie feels like all his nerve endings are on fire as Buck clenches around himself. “God. Buck. Shit.”

It takes an eternity until their hips are flush together. Eddie fears he’ll last as long as Buck (not long at all). A gust of wind would probably be enough to drive him to the edge. Buck is delicious: hot and tight, and still making noises that are intoxicating to hear. Every breath sounds stolen out of him, and Eddie isn’t even moving yet.

“Eddie,” Buck gasps; Eddie can only kiss him on the shoulder again, too drunk to say anything else. “Ah– you can… Yeah , like that–”

Eddie starts slow, though his rhythm growns unsteady without long; it’s a challenge to hold his and Buck’s weight together, but it feels especially impossible with how his entire body feels on fire. Sweat breaks from Eddie’s skin like it reminded itself he’s in an oven, actually, and in a blink his torso is plastered to Buck’s back as they gasp in unison.

Eddie let his underwear stay around his ankles as he bared himself to enter Buck, and he has to do gymnastics to be able to shuffle it lower without turning and letting him go. Eddie refuses to stop rocking inside of him, shallow thrusts that even then leave him breathless. Eddie doesn't want to be rough when Buck is carrying their priceless passenger, and he probably wouldn’t be able to anyway – seven months without a drop of sex makes each twitch from Buck feels like will kill Eddie well enough on their own.

Eddie keeps bearing his weight with one hand, and holding Buck with the other. A group of ah ah ah leaves his mouth in gasps, in sync with Eddie’s movements, and he doesn’t have to look to know what expression is in Buck’s face; his blissed out look. Eddie can imagine that is much the same as his own – eyes squeezed shut as he angles his face to the ceiling, mouth open to breath out gasps and groans.

“Fuck, Buck.” Eddie hits deeper than before, right at a bundle of nerves inside of Buck, and that gives him sparkles enough to squeeze around Eddie like a vice, both crying out. “Fuck!”

Eddie tries to hit that same spot in every following movement, doing it every other time. Buck’s voice goes completely wrecked, sobbing, almost, as he struggles to catch his breaths. Eddie can feel the beat of his heart with how his insides clench, and he can’t say he’s doing much better than Buck – at one point, Eddie is past stringing proper words.

He keeps fucking into Buck in the lack of a voice, face angled down so his forehead rests right by Buck’s nape, neck straining every time Buck is sent a little foward with one of his trusts. They’re sticky with sweat –glued together– and the sound their bodies make feels almost pornographic, even with only them in the house. That’s without mentioning Buck’s moans. Eddie feels the wave building over at each of them, feelung almost desperate at its sight.

“Close,” Eddie stammers out against Buck’s skin, brow tensing as he feels his body being stretched out like an elastic band, further and further yet. Buck can’t string even a word together, but his side bears up for a moment, attempting to move – Eddie doesn’t need words to know Buck wants to turn. He wants to see his face when they come too.

Eddie almost slips completely out as he turns Buck on the bed, stomach up now, but after the stutter, he manages to return to the rhythm of his thrusts, if slightly more shallow in the new position. Beneath Eddie –head bracketed by his arms– Buck looks like a vision: he’s glistening in sweat, birthmark almost maroon with how much he’s flushed, and the pretty pink head of his cock curves right against the swell of his belly, pre dripping and coating the baby bump. Though neither of them have come yet, Buck looks completely fucked out – eyes squeezed shut with a furrowed brow, mouth hanging open as he gasp out whimpers and drones of moans. It’s with that vision in front of himself that Eddie hurries to the last stretch, so close his cock aches.

“Where do you want it?” Eddie gasps out, though it might as well be a groan – Buck is still whimpering at the ceiling. “ Buck –”

“Inside,” Buck’s voice breaks and rises in the middle of the word, his mouth opening further in a soundless moan when Eddie finds his prostate again. “Eddie–” he gasps.

“The next baby’s coming from me,” he hears himself get out, unintelligible but firm like truth; Buck must understand him because he’s nodding, though at this point anythibg might have been able to get him to look this drunk. “I want to–I want to be the one to make you–”

Eddie can’t finish– his stomach goes impossibly taut, enough that his whole air cuts out. Eddie feels his orgarm hit like a freight train, hard enough he can’t even gasp; he groans for just one second, going soundless in the next as his mouth keeps barred open in a mute shout, feeling himself empty inside of Buck. It’s like his head and cock turn into static, white noise – when Eddie blinks awake again, Buck is still shaking, crying around him, and he reaches over to flick the head of Buck’s own cock, all he needs to also come around at the seams.

They tremble together, shakely trying to catch their breaths. Eddie keeps holding on to Buck –the only reason he hasn’t careened face first into the other man – and it takes a groan out of him to move both their bodies sideways down the bed. The movement forces Eddie to slip out of Buck, both of them so sensitive the gasp it takes from their chests are echoes of one another.

Eddie lays Buck at his side, still face to face. Opening his eyes, Eddie watches Buck – the dreamy look on his face, brain still half turned off. Because he can, he reaches to kiss him – beneath his eye, then on top of it, right at his birthmark, letting his lips linger. Eddie feels Buck’s next breath fan against his collarbone – shaking against his still warm skin.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him, whispering to the blotch over Buck’s eyebrow, lips moving against the red. Arms bringing themselves over and around Buck, cradling him close, Eddie brings him into his chest, a hand following the ridge of Buck’s spine, sweaty with perspiration. He nuzzles against Buck, and feels his own nose come to rest at his collarbone.

“I love you too,” Buck whispers back, voice breaking – for emotion, adoration, exhaustion, everything. Eddie feels much the same.

It feels pretty damn perfect, even if it didn't follow any plan.

–

“Hey.”

The kitchen is dark – the sun went fully down during Buck and Eddie’s sleep, and Buck didn’t want to turn on any strong light in case it would have also awakened him. The tea in his hand is tepid; the need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the deepest sleep of his life wasn’t exactly a surprise at seven months pregnant, but the combo of water and a snack that usually followed had been vetoed by Buck’s doctor a week ago with his chronic heartburn. Tea’s the usual substitute; just enough to fill his stomach until he wakes up in the morning.

In the low light of the kitchen –just the moon and street lights from outside the window, and the floor lamp Buck turned on back in the dining room– Eddie looks almost dream-like. His hair is a mess, air dried now from sweat in chaotic waves over his forehead, making him seem younger even with the mustache. Sleep rumpled, Eddie looks impossibly soft. He hadn’t put on any sweats before leaving the room, just in a shirt and his underwear, but it was still more than Buck, bare aside from the cover he picked out of Eddie’s floor to battle against the cold. While he’s out of the bed he's wrapped himself tightly inside it.

“Hey,” Buck answers back. He pulls the cover more closely around his shoulders, just long enough that it cuts off at his knees. Buck holds his tea mug close. “Did I wake you?”

The baby stirred recently; Buck felt the typical flutters that start the day when he went to the bathroom earlier, even if it wasn’t dawn yet. He chose the tea’s flavor  –chamomile– it would put them to sleep again, not that he can really complain about any tiny movement. Buck rests his mug against the top of his stomach, like that will warm the baby.

“No, no. I just stirred on my own; saw you weren’t there.” Eddie smiles – private and just a little bit humorous. “I assumed a bathroom break.”

Buck snorts. He rest his weight back on the counter; leaves space for Eddie to join him.

He does, quiet but not exactly shy. Buck supposes he has no reason to be nervous – not after earlier today. It would be silly to be embarrassed about standing next to someone when just some hours ago they had unprotected sex. Buck was lucky he was already pregnant; Eddie has very famous swimmers.

When Eddie is close enough he angles his head to lay a kiss over Buck brow, and Buck melts against Eddie’s chest. An arm comes to wrap around him, pulling Buck close, and he just lets his head rest on Eddie’s shoulder as the kiss finishes. Despite being a few inches taller, Buck nestles in Eddie’s embrace; another hand comes to cradle the side of his belly, the same instinct from Eddie as of hours before, though less possessive –just by virtue of being outside of bed– and Buck sinks in the sense of being someone’s. He moves his own hand away from the cover to beside Eddie’s, and they feel the baby for a moment, standing quietly in the kitchen as Eddie gives a last kiss to the top of his head.

“Lets go back to bed,” Eddie murmurs against his hair. Buck nods and, finishing the last of his tea, walks with Eddie back to the bedroom – only for sleep now. Their hands are joined.

–

Eddie’s house is decorated simply, some colorful ballons strung on the furniture and a homemade banner across the archway. Hen’s kids helped her – Mara too. From the group home she’s still in, for now, but things are looking up. When Hen arrives at Buck’s front step, Karen and boxes and boxes of party planning in toll, the first thing she does is hug Buck.

“Thank you.”

He hugs her back, as abashed as enthusiastic. “Thank Taylor.” When Hen lets him go –after a long moment– it is with gratitude and fondness on her face.

“I think I prefer you.”

Karen hugged him next, but she and Hen are nothing but professional; in just a few moments, before Eddie could even follow their names into the living room, they were already back into the shoes of the baby shower’s planners. Eddie came into the room to find them already getting rid of Buck, and then himself.

“We need to strung the decorations.”

“Shouldn’t we help?” Eddie asked – but he was smiling, breaths pearls of laughter.

“No,” Hen and Karan answered in unison. “Take your pregnant man into another room.”

They did walk away – mostly because of fluster. When Eddie and Buck were standing in the bedroom again –still hearing Karen and Hen move around the house– it was with pink faces. They didn’t know, of course; no one did, not until Buck and Eddie got to tell them.

“We’ll do it after today,” Eddie says – voice soft enough that it can just be a suggestion too, picking up Buck’s hand with a gentleness that spoke of a third grader’s idea of dating. Buck’s alright with ut though; nodding against Eddie’s chest – pink just because of the hand holding.

They would figure that out – a relationship. For now though, Buck and Eddie were about to receive all their friends at home.

Hen and Karen decorate alone, still more quick than either Buck or Eddie would have thought possible. Buck supposes they have practice with home parties – they have a pre-teen son. Beyond all the little celebrations Hen has already planned for the station, she has to be an alumni with how many birthdays she must have thrown Denny. The homelyness might be the best part; there’s a gentle feel to everything that they strung on Eddie’s walls, and Buck feels his heart start to fill up even before anyone shows up.

Each arrival sends his heart into somersaults. He knows that people are going to be bringing things –it’s the whole point of a baby shower– but Buck feels a little floorless watching his family bring inumerous, gigantic boxes into his and Eddie's house. “Are we building a rocket?” Eddie jokes beside him, when Bobby comes in with something thin and tall, wrapped in paper. Buck knows he’s doing it for his sake –his eyes have gone weepy, and his mouth too dry– but Bobby is the only one that really snorts.

He puts his big delivery down by the strip of the living room that has become the boxes’ place, before returning to Buck and Eddie. Athena is already giving Buck a hug by then –saying he looks well (Buck swings between preening and hiding)– and when she steps back, Bobby takes her place.

“Hey, kid.”

“Y-you didn’t have to bring that – whatever it is.”

“It was in the registry. And me and Athena paid for it together.”

“Consider a couple’s gift,” Athena says, giving Buck a teasing smile. Pathetically, he sniffles.

“Thank you,” Eddie says for Buck, seeing as his throat has been tied in knots. No one holds it against him; Bobby’s and Athena’s eyes soften, and Bobby pats his gently in the shoulder.

“There’s another thing I want to give, actually. Just from me this time.”

“Bobby…” Buck starts unsurely, animal-cornered at too many things to be thankful for. Bobby still looks patiently at him.

“Come on – entertain me.” He steps back – motioning for Buck to follow, and he does, after exchanging a last look with Eddie, encouraging from the latter’s part.

Bobby leads Buck outside, where everyone’s cars are making a line on Eddie’s street, parked beside the whole width of his house’s curb. Bobby walks to the one he came in with Athena, and he opens up the trunk about as wordlessly as Buck is – albeit for different reasons. Bobby still looks soft and fond, pulling another box from the neat mess of his car’s trunk, and Buck can’t keep himself from feeling abashed about this gift too.

“Just wait,” Bobby starts before Buck can. He sits at the edge of his trunk –the box on his lap– and after he pats at the space by his side, Buck does the same. “I know you get flustered at these big gesture –especially now– so I thought it might be best to give this to you while we’re alone. Well – if no one else comes to park their car, that is.”

“What is it?” Bobby reaches the box out towards Buck, and he takes it with uncertain hands. It’s light and heavy at the same time, bulky and made of something that weighs substantially, but Buck has the mind that it’s hollow inside. His hands wrap around the paper wrap, unsure if he should shake the thing – Bobby probably wouldn’t give him a bomb, right?

Bobby still has that unnamed look on his face when Buck turns back. He imagines that’s what sons see in their dads, when they get their first car from them. This would have to be Buck’s first taste; his heart aches and whines, looking at Bobby, more strongly when he simply tells Buck, “Open it,” voice feather-soft.

The paper crumples noisily in Buck’s hands. It’s a wooden box that he finds beneath it, authentic and very neatly made. There’s engravings on the sides, no words, just cursive lines, divots in the wood, and Buck touches them a little reverently.

“Bobby?” he asks.

“You mentioned you didn’t get a baby box.” Bobby’s voice is low – caring, but not careful. When Buck looks into his eyes, they’re fully open to him. “It was a throw-away line – but I know that it bothered you. I thought you might like doing it differently with your own child.”

Buck sniffles. He has no words to give – can only reach out towards Bobby –careful for the box still on his own lap– hugging him automatically. Bobby cradles him close, safely, and Buck muffles another three or four sniffles against the neck of his dress shirt, probably getting it wet. Bobby, he knows, won’t mind.

He’s the one to dry Buck’s tears when he pulls away, eyes going back to the box. He hugs it close as Bobby brushes a gentle thumb beneath and at the corner of both his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“No need.” Bobby gives him an encouraging smile. When he finally pulls his hand back, he keeps looking at Buck for a moment more.

They eventually have to come back inside, walking together just as they’d come out the house. Buck’s tear tracks are very conspicious, but no one comments on them; Eddie, when Buck catches his eye, goes entirely soft. Though he had been having an easy talk with Ravi (dragged together by Chimney, arriving earlier than Maddie), he gets up from the couch’s armrest to come after Buck as he makes his way into hallway. Everyone keeps quiet about that too.

The baby box goes straight to Buck and Eddie’s room, a private gift, and an already opened one at that too. Buck keeps looking at it for a moment more after putting it down on top of his and Eddie’s dresser –the baby’s too, if only for a drawer– unable to unlatch his eyes. It’s that way how Eddie finds him – still tracing the gentle engraving on the wood. Buck doesn’t glance away even for him, knowing he had already been following him anyway.

“That’s a nice one,” Eddie says as he settles by Buck’s side. He doesn’t touch the box –not that Buck would hiss his hand away, like a wild animal– but his eyes are reverent too, if a little too soft because of Buck.

“Yeah,” Buck croaks. He takes his hand back and sniffles a last time.

A big oof comes out his lungs as he sits on the bed, still facing towards the box. Eddie, following him right to the mattress, does it a little more soundlessly, but in Buck’s defence, he’s carrying extra pounds. Shoulders touching, Eddie makes him company in admiring the baby box.

“I don’t want to tell my parents.” Buck knew that already –maybe Eddie too, despite him saying nothing– but speaking it aloud just cements the fact. The only grandparents he thinks his baby deserves –that he deserves himself– are already in California, and Buck’s not interested in any extra one. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to hide a full child, nevermind the effect in his body –he’d be a few months postpartum whenever Maddie has her second baby, and he knows his parents will come by then– but he’s willing to just say it then, and not ask them to come visit.

Eddie nods. “I’m not looking forward to mine either. I don’t want to keep a secret –not eventually– but I already don’t like how they are with Christopher. I don’t…” He breathes out, and shakes his head. Buck gets it.

“We’ll ask him not to say anything?” Chris will have to know about Buck –the baby– before he comes home. They don’t want to spring anything on him when that conversation might already be a hardship on its own. Chris is doing better – but Eddie has been giving him space. Too much space. Buck is almost scared to watch that leeway disappear.

Eddie’s face turns slightly abashed at Buck words. “I, uhm. I thought it might be better if I go pick him alone. I want Chris to know,” he rushes to add, before Buck can’t think anything bad, “but I don’t feel alright with you being any close to them. Not when you’re…” Eddie looks at Buck’s stomach, and lets his words trail off.

“I get it.” And Buck does – the way Eddie talks about El Paso, be it for his parent’s presence alone, Buck doesn’t think it would be the most comfortable place to be as a visibly pregnant man. He doesn’t think he would be in danger – just feel awful. That’s the last state he wants to be in when in front of the people that, for all intents and purposes, are keeping Christopher away from home.

“You could call him?” Eddie suggests – even if he doesn’t look that sure himself. “Or maybe I can call you with him, after we’ve spoken.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Buck says, just for Eddie to begin to breathe again. He hates to see him looking like this; so anxious. He agrees easily to keep Avocado away from Helena and Ramon, when they raised Eddie to look like this whenever they’re mentioned.

Eddie nods –like he’s trying to assure himself– before kissing Buck chastely on the forehead. He keeps his lips there; Buck can hear the weight of his breathing, the flightiness too. While Eddie holds him by the nape, Buck squeezes his wrist with what he hopes is an echo of his previous words. We’ll figure it out . Everything will be okay. It has too.

–

“Hi, uncle Buuuuuuuuck!”  Jee crashes into his knees, wrapping herself around them. She’s not heavy enough to send Buck careening backwards –even if Maddie and Chim, wincing at their daughter, earnestly look like they worry she’ll do that– and he just laughs, putting a hand on her back.

In a few months he’ll have something like her too (girl or not) – even if it’s going to take a few years for the baby to get into running age.

“Hi, Jeeeeeeee!” he stretches out her name just like she did his, curving as best as he can with his stomach in the way to pick her up. It’s an awkward carry: it takes the breath out of Buck like he’s lifting a sack of rocks instead of a little girl, and he has to hold her beside his chest to really fit, what with the baby, but he’s still smiling as he does so. Though the wince doesn’t leave Chim’s and Maddie’s face.

Buck kisses her sister’s cheek before she can talk him out of carrying Jee. She’ll be in his shoes in a few months – watch her complain then.

“Hi, Maddie.”

“Hi. Sorry I’m late.”

“It seems to have been worth it.” Buck looks pointedly to the box of pastries Chim is helping Maddie bring inside. “Did you tell Karen you were bringing food? She has like a thousand cupcakes in the kitchen.” Buck was alright baking himself – but the last time he suggested it Karen looked like she was going to whack him. He’s not a very good party recipient, he doesn’t think.

“This one is from hers, actually. The last part of what she ordered from that bakery. They were running a little late.”

“So you did the same to pick them up,” Buck follows. He rocks Jee a little, smiling conspiratorially at her. “Your mommy’s soooo smart!”

“Yes!” Jee happily agrees. It gets a laugh from all of them. Buck can’t wait to be laughing at his own baby’s cuteness.

Eddie comes by Buck’s side, reaching his arm out to pick up Jee from him. Always the social butterfly, she changes arms excitedly, giving Eddie his own happy greeting. “Lemme have her,” Eddie says from above, hiding his own smile – though Buck glares at him a little bit at the blatant move. Maddie and Chim aren’t the only worrywarts. “Hi, Jee-jee.”

“You’re ganging up on me,” Buck tells the three of them. Eddie doesn’t look back –feigning ignorance in paying attention to Jee-yun’s new tirade– but he still has a look of amusement on his face.

“You know it.” Chim doesn’t try to defend himself. He gives his wife a last kiss on the cheek before bypassing all of them, following in the direction of the kitchen, box of pastries held at the height of his head, like he’s a baker himself.

All of them look good; smell delicious too. Eddie follows the image with his eyes, and Buck can recognize the same thing that has attracted his attention – little chocolate croissants.

“Chris loves those,” Eddie tells the room at large. It freezes everyone like every other time Christopher has been mentioned; like they don’t know how to even move, which might be an accurate description from Buck’s own experience. He’s privy to a reassurance that they don’t have yet, however, and this time can step naturally alongside Eddie.

“Do you want to freeze him some?” Eddie could take them with him, when he went to bring Christopher home. Or, better yet, Chris could eat them when he was in the kitchen himself, right out of the airport. Buck wants him to have all the croissants in the world.

Chim and Maddie still look too shocked for comfort, but they try to feign the same normality that –for them– has fallen over Buck and Eddie. “...I’ll ask Denny to put some away,” Chim says, before finally stepping out of view.

Maddie moves along entirely, leading Buck to the couch by the arm; he lets her do so. Eddie doesn’t keep far – standing in the same spot and looking at Jee a little too adorangly as she talks with him. That image makes something heavy and warm shake loose in Buck’s chest.

“Me and Chim brough two gifts each. But it’s two for the baby and two for you, so it isn’t too much!”

As much as Buck wants to argue that it in fact is, Maddie has successfully piqued his curiosity. “What even is there for you to get me?” There certainly wasn’t anything specifically Buck’s in the registry; unless baby carries counted.

“You’ll ruin your surprise,” Eddie warns him, still swaying Jee. Buck scoffs at him – dramatic for play. If there’s another shade of pink to Eddie’s cheeks as he chuckles slightly in answer (if there’s something like it on Buck too, because of just how good Eddie looks) maybe Maddie doesn’t see anything new in it. She just stays quiet for a moment, before following.

“It’s a back pillow from me. I bought one during Jee’s pregnancy and you’re going to thank me for it when you get to the last two months. Everything gets sore. And it’s worse after the baby’s been born.”

It does seem useful; Buck still grumbles a little bit about it.

“Couldn’t you just get me it? You should be putting some money away for your kid too.”

“We have half of the stuff from Jee’s time already. Take the gift.”

“Take the gift,” Eddie echoes. He rocks Jee a little bit until she does the same, smiling brightly as she chirps, “Take the gift!”, not having followed the conversation at all.

“That’s just playing dirty,” Buck argues, but he’s grinning too. Though Eddie keeps his own smile turned away, using the diversion of giving Jee a little high-five –Buck won’t survive for much longer– Buck points an accusing finger at him. “You just want to hog the pillow yourself in bed. I know you, Diaz.”

Eddie shrugs loosely. “You do.”

Butterflies don’t keep just to the stomach, Buck thinks.

When he looks at Maddie again, her eyebrows are raised – like she’s seen a lot in too little. Maybe she has; Buck scrambles to continue the conversation before she can say anything.

“What’s Chim got me?” Buck nudges Maddie on the shoulder –like he’s a kid– when she continues to say nothing, more or less dragging her along forcefully in the change of subject. “Come on,” he smiles, “o-or I’ll start guessing outrageous stuff.”

“It’s a puzzle book,” she finally answers – still looking too inquisitively between Buck and Eddie. Eddie, having sensed the same, finally lets Jee-yun go, putting her back on the floor; she takes no time in running back into the kitchen after her father. Eddie, without the diversion of a little kid, stands a little uselessly in the middle of the living room. “For when you’re in bed rest.”

“That’s cool, actually,” Buck tells his sister. Almost cool enough to distract him; even if Eddie still argues, just to fill up any possible silence.

“Does he think Buck is a little kid?”

“He knows it,” Chim answers on his own, coming back from the kitchen. When Jee runs past his legs from the same place, there’s a little chocolate smudge on her cheek. “So this thing’s gonna fit like a glove.”

“Thanks, Chim,” Buck tells him earnestly, even if he’s still a little embarrassed about getting so much stuff.

“Just remember to tell your kid I have to be their favorite uncle. Unless Eddie’s gonna take that spot?”

It’s instinct to look back at Eddie; see the clear-cut discomfort in his face at the suggestion. Buck, maybe more than anyone else, understands it. Standing awkwardly to the side when they brought Christopher out of the house, that strange place where he didn’t know how to call himself, except uncle certainly was never the world. They’ve talked about it now; Buck knows where he stands, even if Chris still isn’t back home. Maybe that’s why he feels so protectful of Eddie – wants to give him the same sense of safety.

They talked about Eddie helping with the baby, but in vague terms, at the exception of Buck’s most recent talk with Maddie. He and Eddie walked around the topic, always so aware of how close they were to sounding like a couple. But they’re one now, even if not openly. Buck sees the tight crease between Eddie’s eyebrows, and suddenly doesn’t see the point of keeping it to themselves a second longer.

Chim and Maddie are right beside them; Ravi’s at the other side of the room, eating quiches compulsively and hearing Bobby talk about something – probably a silly thing, with the endeared way Athena’s looking at him. Karen and Hen are in the kitchen, prepping the plates for the last of Karen’s army of food. The children are around. Everyone’s close – the whole of Buck’s family, with the exception of one. He can announce the new development, and he knows it will settle in his chest like coming back home; full-on relief. That’s what Buck wants to see in Eddie’s face.

He swallows, feeling his throat tightens. But Buck feels brave too. He always feels brave, when he’s close to Eddie.

“Actually,” Buck starts – but he doesn’t get to end it.

Hen appears by the dining room archway, a crease on her face. “Eddie?”

Buck turns his head in tandem with his. Maybe both their stomach’s fall at the same time too. There’s a roughness to Hen’s face; concern and confusion, but a worry that makes Buck’s heart stutter. The words die in his mouth. A lot of things die in him.

Eddie looks at him –eyes as uncertain as Buck’s– before getting up and it’s muscle memory to follow him, a hand fidgeting at his own shirt. There’s a part of Buck –anxious or clairvoyant– that wants to hold Eddie’s hand. Buck contents with just putting a hand on Avocado.

When they follow Hen into the kitchen, Karen is standing by one of the counters, suddenly no interest in any of the dozen open boxes of food, just looking worried at something in Denny’s phone, standing beside her. Buck can spot a little tupperware of chocolate croissants beside them, abandoned at whatever’s happened, and that the first thrum of fear that crashes against him. The second is that Denny, looking up, seems impossibly guilty.

Karen speaks for her son, voice no less rattled. “Eddie – did Chris not know about the party?”

Nothing could get Eddie to move faster to their side – to the view of whatever’s in Denny’s phone. Buck almost feels stuck at the kitchen door, scared of coming any closer. Maybe if you don’t see the monster, it doesn’t get to be real. Maybe if he doesn’t take a step closer, he gets to belong to what had been the day until now.

“What happened?” Eddie’s voice isn’t rough; Buck recognizes that it’s only despair in it, rising like a tide. It’s the only thing that gets him to move forward – because he knows that, whatever it is, he can’t leave Eddie to go in alone.

“I’m sorry,” Denny says – his voice shakes. “I-I didn’t know. I was just talking with him.”

The open text conversation is innocuous – innocent like Denny’s guilty, apologetic voice. Buck feels like throwing up when he sees the contact; Denny has given Chris a nickname, but his picture is the same one Buck sees in his own texting app when he pulls up his contact.

D [12:15]

[photo attachment]

look what i just saved for u ✊️✊️✊️

columbus [12:17]

dude why are you having treats in a normal ass saturday

wait is that my house

D [12:17]

bucks party??? hi???

columbus [12:18]

what party

“ No ,” Eddie says, and his voice breaks so much Buck’s heart just shatters further. “No, no, no–”

He sidesteps Buck’s hand before he gets to touch him, pulling his own phone from his pocket. Buck just gets the end of Eddie’s harried words when he taps his phone’s screen in a nervous frenzy, probably pulling up his own contact with his son, “--pick up the phone ,” bad as Buck hasn’t heard in weeks, maybe months.

He can’t follow Eddie. He can’t do shit – just stare helplessly, with the beginning of a panic attack rising from his sternum, at the end of Denny’s text history, seen but unanswered after Denny’s last texts.

D [12:18]

for the baby?

Buck feels like throwing up.

Chapter Text

“Mom,” Eddie says as soon as his mother picks up, “put Christopher on the phone.”

Eddie’s not an optimist, exactly –at this point, maybe he’d gain more never having hope in his life– but there’s still a part of him that doesn’t know how big the blowout has been; maybe Helena can only answer in confusion, and listen to him for once. Of course, life can never give him a break.

“Now, Eddie.” He knows this voice – the same faux concern and helpfulness that he opened the door to seven months ago, and heard ad nauseum when Shannon had first left. Eddie had let her drag Christopher to Texas; he fought them off for years , and then he let her drag Christopher to Texas. “Your son has just locked himself in his room after saying something really worrying about you. I don’t think that’s for the best.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think!” he shouts at the phone. Distantly, he’s aware that there’s people outside his bathroom that can hear him scream at his mom. He’s feeling a little too crazed to care. “Put Christopher on the phone, he’s just had a misunderstanding, I just need to talk to him.”

“I’m not sure Christopher wants that.”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants! I’m his father!”

Helena makes a low noise at the other side of the line.

“And you think that’s the parenting that will help.”

The guilt that’s already overflowing from his chest breaks the faucet. He doesn’t need the further bad consciousness; he’s been dealing with a deluge of it from as long as he’s had a son to feel bad about, and it stutters something painful out of his throat now. Eddie can just feel embarrassed that it’s his mother that’s around to hear it. It’s one thing to be so aware that she and his dad had never had too much good faith in him, but that he still wished to trust they at least would always have Christopher’s best interests in heart. It’s another thing to hear the fakeness in his mom’s voice and know he will never be the best in her head. Maybe he never could.

“You don’t know what happened.” Eddie’s throat clicks when he gets words to leave it again. It’s not the sureness he wishes he could carry. “ He doesn’t know what happened. You can’t possibly want it to continue that way.”

“The way I hear it, you and,” mom’s voice goes quieter, like she’s talking about something that shouldn’t be heard, “ your friend have been hiding a baby from him. While your son doesn’t even live with you, Edmundo? What are you thinking ?”

“He doesn’t live with me because you took him! I– jesus . I can’t believe I was ready for him to spend another week with you.”

“You’re not the one that gets to make that choice now, Eddie. I can hear Chris crying from his room.”

Eddie already has a too vivid image of that in his head. “So give him the phone!” he begs – knowing that it’s begging what he’s doing. What he’s been doing, every time he calls his parents on their phone; everytime he tried to get them to chaperone a reconciliation they had never had any interest in. It’s the only thing he gets to do, across 800 miles and a phone connection that Chris has functionally severed, eleven missed calls and even more unseen texts before Eddie hid in the bathroom to plead at his mother. He does it already knowing that he’s lost – he’s not an optimist. But what else can he do?

Mom stays quiet in the line for a moment. Eddie breathes through it – but he’s asphyxiating.

“Chris,” she starts, not speaking to him; raising her voice to address what must be a closed door, what she’d been standing by the side all this time, and Eddie can only squeeze his fists tighter, eyes burning, “Eddie wants to speak with you, sweetie. Do you want that?”

That ensuing silence is loud. Eddie covers his face as his eyes squeeze shut, like he needs to cover the image of the loser in the bathroom mirror, hide from his mother.

Her next answer is pointed. It’s hard to think it’s the same voice that talked Eddie through middle school. “You have your answer.”

He ends the call, feeling even more of an angry failure for that. Instead of throwing his phone into a wall and screaming his throat raw, he pulls up the online address for LAX instead.

-

There’s a small public following Buck no matter how much he asks them to leave the house. The banner in the living room doesn’t need to fall to spell that the party is over. Buck’s too worried about standing in front of the bathroom Eddie has hidden in and shouted from inside ever since to think about any way to get their family to leave.

No one knows what happened; Buck doesn’t really have it in himself to explain. He’s already struggling with keeping his weight upright.

Though Bobby might have been the person who knows less of what’s going on, he’s the one that Buck’s eyes land o helplessly when he’s too overwhelmed at Eddie’s muffled voice and the questions that haven’t stopped coming from his sister ever since they came out red-eyed and pale-skinned from the kitchen. He’s the one that raises his arms placatingly, and takes a step toward the crowd surrounding Buck.

“Okay. I think we should be getting on our way.”

“You think that’s the good idea?” Chim’s eyes are pointed at Buck and the bathroom door. Buck knows he’s not helping his own case; he hasn’t stopped trembling from the moment he read the messages on Denny’s phone. Maybe he looks a little like he’ll drop dread. He surely feels like it, the longer Christopher’s silence stretches.

He’s not answering Buck. He didn’t answer Eddie. Buck doesn’t think he will either one of them.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but those two probably need space,” Bobby answers diplomatically. Athena, by his side, approaches to hold Maddie –looking a green herself– by the elbows. It’s the help Buck is too tongue-tied to ask himself. “Crowding the place isn’t helping. We can ask about it later.”

Hen looks sad when Buck catches her eyes for a moment. Though she knows a part, at least –it isn’t like Buck ever told her they were keeping this from Chris (not that that was ever an active choice)-- she keeps the side she’s privy to quiet, only nudging Chim alongside herself away from the hallway.

“I’ll call you.”

Buck can only give Hen a shaky nod. He repeats it when he looks at Maddie next – promising the same. That’s as far as he’s able to go where communication is concerned. When Bobby and Athena redirect everyone away he can’t even ask them to stay.

“I’ll be back,” Bobby still promises, clairvoyant in the way he is. Buck repeats his shaky nod and turns back to the bathroom door, trying the handle another time, like this will be the one.

“Eddie–” he croaks. Eddie’s not shouting anymore. Buck is struck by the same fear that made him come to stay with Eddie in the first place. “Eddie–”

The door pulls back beneath his hand, open from the inside. Buck can’t feel any relief when Eddie is still looking exactly as he was when first going in.

“You got to talk?”

“No,” Eddie doesn’t let the hope live for long. The tightness on his face is the same one Buck feels; Eddie doesn’t look at him while he taps something tensely at his phone’s screen. “I’m going there. My parents–” Eddie’s voice breaks. He starts again. “My parents aren’t going to help. I need to go there.”

“Buy two tickets,” Buck immediately says – doesn’t need to look to know Eddie is searching for flights. “I’m going with you.”

“Buck–”

“It’s my fault this is even happening. I need to talk to him.”

“It is not .” Eddie, it seems, manages to afford still a bit more of anger; it’s protectifulness that turns towards Buck, finally, but it doesn’t help. Not when Buck knows the truth. “I was the one that went and let my son only be contacted by a fucking phone.”

Buck holds him by the shoulders. His legs are shaking – but his hands are steady when he holds on to Eddie.

“He didn’t understand what was happening.”

Eddie has to shake his head to keep his eyes dry. “No,” he allows, but only just. “But he still doesn't.”

Maybe Buck has his own things to allow too. He makes himself nod –even if his stomach is still turning– if only so he gets to let Eddie’s shoulders go and hug him instead. His heartbeat, pressed into Buck’s own chest –as well as they can, with Avocado in the way– is a flutery as Buck’s. Maybe they’ll never believe themselves; even then, Buck and Eddie hold each other tight and close. This, is easy to believe.

Eddie sniffles beside Buck’s ear. “I can’t let you come with me.”

“I’m going anyway. I– I need to, Eddie. I need to.” Buck has to angle his head down somewhat when he’s pulled away to look back at Eddie. Their foreheads press together at a slight angle with Buck’s small difference in height, though he still feels an inch tall when everything’s gone wrong and there is basically nothing for him to do. He cups both of Eddie’s cheeks because, at least, he gets to do this; fight for this. “I need to.”

Eddie eventually nods from between his hands, even if Buck thinks it's only so he can go back to looking at airflight tickets. Buck will take the truce for what it is; he needs to talk with Christopher.

Bobby comes back Athena-less, right when Buck and Eddie step away from each other. Eddie takes no time to return to the page open on his phone, and it’s only Buck that pays mind to Bobby’s return. He can’t say he feels any more steady, as grateful as he is that Bobby stopped Buck’s family from watching him crash and burn first-handed. Buck’s hands have gone back to shaking – and it’s maybe the anxiety still consistently thrumming across his entire body that has him speaking before Bobby can.

“We’re going to Texas.”

“It’s about Chris?” Bobby follows. The immediate concern that rises on his face just makes Buck’s eyes go back to burning faster.

“Y-yeah. I, ah, uhm– I didn’t tell him. A-about the baby.” Buck blinks repeatedly, like that has any way to help. “He knows now. He thinks I lied. I did.”

“Why?” Bobby asks simply, nothing else.

“I w-was scared he was, he was going to assume t-things.” Like now. Exactly like now, Buck’s head keeps repeating. “He wasn’t really hearing Eddie a-at first. I was just scared .”

“There you have it.” Bobby cups the back of his head – forces Buck to maintain eye contact. “You’re going there to talk?” When Buck nods –jerkingly– he repeats the movement. “Okay. I’ll fix up leave for you two.”

“I just need a day; two,” Eddie says, forgetting the phone and the flights and the tickets and the money just for a moment to look at Bobby. “The weekend. I just need him to get outside the room.”

But Bobby shakes his head. When he lets go of Buck to touch Eddie instead, it’s with the same care behind the movement.

“Don’t go in a rush. You’re going to find space, not break it open. If Christopher is like his father you’ll get to talk just as soon as he’s ready to listen.”

“Was I – ever ready?” Eddie jokes, voice only sounding damp. But Bobby presses on the point – presses on against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yes.” There isn’t doubt in the answer. Bobby squeezes Eddie a second time, before letting go, and it brings a new round of water to Eddie’s eyesight.

“Okay,” he croaks back to Bobby. Sniffling before glancing back to the phone, Eddie finishes the purchase.

-

It’s a hit to wallet to buy two plane tickets at a late hour, and they’re already a little fucked in the money department, but neither Buck nor Eddie comment about the price on the bill. Nothing could be too expensive when it’s Chris on the line, and Eddie’s willing to work overtime for a year straight if it means he gets to come out of this nightmare.

It’s mostly thinking of that which moves him –hurriedly– through the last of the afternoon; throwing clothes inside a bag for however long they’re going to have to stay in El Paso (Eddie hasn’t even booked an hotel – jesus christ ) and trying not to think of how badly everything can go. It’s another jagged cut against Eddie’s sternum when he looks back to Buck in their room and sees him rubbing a hand against his midriff, before moving it to cup the base of his stomach.

Buck looks shy when he notices Eddie looking; he still doesn’t drop his hand.

“It’s just the heartburn.” Athena –coming back from wherever she went– had given Buck a glass of water before she and Bobby also took their leave; letting Eddie and him get ready for the hasty flight. But the water was just to help him calm down; Eddie had received a glass too. Eddie supposes anxiety doesn’t help with heartburn either.

“You sure you’ll be okay on the flight?” Eddie knows it’s really only at the 36 weeks mark that doctors don’t recommend flying while pregnant, but Buck has never had a lot of luck where his health is concerned. If this is another thing he’ll have to always carry in his consciousness–

“It will be fine,” Buck stops Eddie before he can fully spiral. “Not sure what clothes to bring though. I remember Texas weather – don’t think I can survive wearing hoodies there.”

Buck’s hand curls over the bump – almost protectfully. Eddie’s throat clicks when he swallows away the thickness.

“You’re worried?”

“Hard not to.” Buck shrugs. “It’s your parents. You were talking about them like four hours ago. I– I guess I’m more anxious.”

“They’re not like yours. They’re less– blatant, I guess. But they can be pretty weird with whatever they disagree with. They– they’ll probably make you feel uncomfortable. Mom is going to do it on purpose.” Eddie wishes he could say he’s sorry; he hardly thinks that is going to help though.

“It’ll be worth it,” Buck says in a low voice. He reaches his hand out for Eddie until he’s taken it, and squeezes.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees – or tries to. It doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty.

They have two more hours before leaving the house and driving to the airport, and Eddie does everything with a ticking clock inside his ear. He continuously runs a hand through his hair, until it’s standing up all over the place, nowhere else to put all of his nervous energy. He drives, just to have something to focus on, and carries Buck’s bag for him, leading the way into the airport with a tight throat. The flight isn’t delayed, which means everything moves along almost too quickly. There’s nothing he can focus on, not even Buck, who only makes Eddie feel more anxious when he thinks again about how he’s bringing him into his parents house – pregnant and vulnerable and already guilty on his own. Eddie feels restless most of everything. Two hours sitting down for the 800 miles flight is not going to help.

When they’re on their seats –Buck takes the window and Eddie the aisle– the nervous energy pauses for just a second though; Buck’s and Eddie’s both. Buck manages to look excited, watching at the outside of his window. The flight hasn’t started – Buck is just looking at the airstrip and the workers outside, strangely fascinated. When he finds Eddie watching him, he turns back with a shy smile.

“It’s my first time flying.”

“Wait– really?” For a moment, Eddie is too shocked to be nervous. Buck curves his shoulders, abashed, and keeps with that shy smile – the same one he sent Eddie every time they kissed after having sex. “Didn’t you live in Peru?”

“It was a whole thing.” Buck shrugs – Eddie has the feeling the fake aloofness is more to change the subject; he can’t help but smile amusedly at the attempt. It’s the first genuine smile on his face since he walked into his kitchen hours before.

“Did you ever think about writing for make-a-wish?” he teases Buck.

Buck elbows him on the shoulder – it’s light, very badly aimed, and it only knocks a snort out of Eddie’s mouth. He keeps watching Buck for a moment more – his rowdy hair, the clothes he’s dressed in since before the baby shower, a little too neat for comfort. Buck had wanted to dress well for the party. His baby shower. Their baby’s shower. Eddie's eyes soften on their own accord, and he reaches across the seat to wrap an arm around Buck’s shoulders and drag him close, until he can press a kiss into his frizzy hair.

The sudden change has to have confused Buck –should have– but he just lets out a body-wide sigh at Eddie’s kiss. He melts against it; against him. Sets down against Eddie’s side.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him. From the top of the aisle, a flight-attendant starts giving the initial instructions before the flight; Buck –flying-novice– should most likely pay attention to it, but he keeps melted against Eddie.

“I love you too,” he whispers back.

They keep like that through the flight.

Airplane travel is faster than any possible road trip – though that would have still been Eddie’s preferable method of transport. He doesn’t exactly like cars, but Eddie had dreamed about a lot of ways to bring Christopher home – when he was looking forward to it, and not doing his best not to shake out of his own skin. All of his daydreams had a look of lightness to them; not that Eddie expected the conversation to be easy – but he had hoped that, after it, he’d get to have a good enough time with his son whatever their method of travel was.

Listen to music. Admire the view from the road. Watch a movie on the airplane. Eddie just wanted to be with Chris again – inches beside each other, instead of separated across state lines. Eddie could be content with anything – even with only stiff silence, if he really was dragging Christopher away from Texas, and that was all he could afford his father. Increasingly, that’s what Eddie thinks is what will await him.

He would survive a full day of car travel; he survives two hours in the plane too. It goes by simultaneously too fast and too slow, and Eddie doesn’t feel exactly any more prepared for it; he still has an arm around Buck though, and uses it to support himself as much as the other way around.

There’s something especially sour about landing on ELP again, after six years away. The last time Eddie was here, he was taking Christopher to California. He has to hope something similar will happen again. It doesn’t feel any less of a failure for having to do it a second time anyway.

He and Buck take an Uber. It’s night; there’s probably somewhere they can get a rental, but Eddie is working with his parent’s time, he’s well aware. They have to be setting the table right now – getting ready to have dinner. Sharing a meal with Christopher the way Eddie hasn’t got to for months. He pulls up the app and ignores the price on it too, and tries to keep his mind blank while he’s in the Uber’s backseat, Buck sat by his side.

He’s staring out of the window this time again. Night in El Paso is mild, at least – unless in summer, which is not the case. Inside the Uber, AC on, Buck still has the excuse to be hidden inside a hoodie –keeping one of the bags on his lap, Eddie doesn’t miss– and maybe because of it, he’s not as anxious as to be completely unable to gawk at the city Eddie has grown up in. Eddie wishes he could be excited to show him around.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” Buck says. It gets a snort from Eddie, at least.

“I didn’t grow up on a ranch.” Hershey, Eddie thinks, is probably more low-key, actually. “You’re the one from the midwest.”

“Pennsylvania is not midwest,” Buck immediately argues – a little strongly, in fact.

The uber driver looks at them from the rear-view mirror, eyes on Eddie. “It isn’t, actually,” they agree.

Eddie throws his hands up. “Okay, okay.”

Eddie looks out the same window Buck had after something to distract him with; maybe himself too. They’re at the center of town, and Eddie just about recognizes every one of the streets they’re driving by; the way to the movie theater he watched Shrek, and, at another bend in the main street, towards the mall Eddie used to bring his sisters to, when they were on summer vacation. The pilates studio Pepa and Abuela used to attend. The burger joint Eddie took Shannon once; just an empty store front with a for sale sign now.

The street signs are all the same. Every corner has a ghost; is a ghost. It takes effort for Eddie to actually open his mouth again.

“There.” He points Buck to one of the places they’re driving by; a row of stores, opening up into a pedestrian walk, strangely empty on a saturday. There’s no benches. “That used to be a hang-out spot – after school. There was an ice cream shop around the corner.”

Eddie speaks low – he doesn’t want to give the uber driver anything else to judge him about. Buck seems to hear well enough, sitting so closely to Eddie. Eddie, for a second, forgets to be self-conscious about that too – forgets that this was one of the things you had to be careful about, when you were in public. Before someone got the wrong idea.

“You came there a lot?” Buck asks before he can start to remember; he nods beside his head.

“I had a group of friends. Not super close – I was friendly with everyone, but didn’t have anyone ride-or-die.” Yet. “These friends were from baseball though. There was a team at school. Lost contact with everyone after…you know. But we used to come there after class.” Eddie lets his words trail off. They’ve driven away already, anyway. “Good ice cream,” he still murmurs to himself. It’s a different silence that follows.

They’re quieter for the rest of the drive, waiting to get to suburbia. Maybe, in another life, this could have been a more interesting trip; Eddie could have been the one to drive Buck around, proud to show him the places that knew him when he was younger and dumber. Maybe he could be showing them to Chris too, the way he didn’t get to do, when, post-service, Chris was little more than a stranger and Eddie was working three jobs at once. Maybe he could be showing everything to his and Buck’s baby.

In this life, Christ is at his grandparents’, and Buck is hiding his pregnancy behind a bag of clothes. In this life, Eddie is about to have the worst visit of his life, most probably. Probably the last; he doesn’t think he’ll miss El Paso too much after the initial grief has run its course. Not if Chris is coming back with him, anyway. Or the grief is never going away.

The streetlights are all turned on when the Uber stops in Eddie’s parents’ street. A lifetime ago, Eddie learned to ride a bike here – taught his sisters the same. He doesn’t pay attention to the memory, paying the driver in a stiff sort of silence instead. Buck, waiting by the curb –still holding the bag– is looking at him with more than one kind of heaviness to his eyes.

Eddie clears his throat as he walks back to him, driver paid and already speeding away. The street is quiet – placid like a graveyard. Eddie looks at Buck, but struggles to hold his sight when he asks him, “Ready to go?” afraid of hearing back the same question.

Buck considers it before telling Eddie very earnestly, “No.” He keeps his eyes on him – and it’s not hard to realize it’s also honesty that Buck is expecting, an eye for an eye. The most Eddie can rip from himself for him is a nod. Buck’s eyes are far too understanding at it.

He reaches out a hand for Eddie to hold, which he does for the short walk towards the front door of his childhood. Eddie leaves it then with a last squeeze, just hoping that Buck will forgive him. He clears his throat again, gearing himself up like he’s walking back into war. Eddie positions himself in front of Buck when he goes to knock at the door.

It’s his dad that eventually comes to answer. Eddie expects the shock on his face – he still hasn’t learned to accept the discomfort. They were doing so well…but no. He’s not here for his dad; he’s here for Chris.

“Edmundo,” Ramon says. The shock doesn’t go away when he looks to the side and sees who’s come along with Eddie. Eddie hears Buck shuffle uncomfortably on his feet as Ramon’s eyes land on him, before returning to his son. “I–”

“Wasn’t expecting me?” He should have; or maybe his parents were just wishing they’d get to control this conversation too. “I came to speak with my son.”

“All the way from California?”

“You weren’t putting him on the phone,” Eddie ribs. He doesn’t attempt to leave the anger –the hurt– out. Eddie steps forward until his father steps back, and slinks inside the house uninvited; Buck follows him in silence.

Eddie hears his mom’s voice before he sees her; both still get his heart to do something complicated. But Eddie didn’t come here to speak with her either. “Ramon, what are you – oh.” She stops on her tracks when she sees Eddie standing inside her living room, more grave than he had allowed himself to be any other time he contacted them recently. Her eyes almost pop off her face when she spots Buck next – ogling him. “ Oh . Wh– What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick up Chris.”

“Eddie–” Helena starts, admonishing. It’s the voice she used to send him to clean up his room with. It’s the voice, Eddie imagines, she’s been using with Chris too – the do-over. Eddie walks past her too; he knows the way inside the house.

“He’s my son,” he says, a little petulantly. The same photos on the hallway – Eddie’s too. The same flower-print wallpaper. A trophy of a chess tournament in one of the corner tables. Eddie heads into the dining room.

“Is that why you brought a stranger?” Helena barbs.

Eddie looks back just to see if Buck is following – making sure he’s not locked in the trap. He’s coming right behind, but looking much more uncomfortable than Eddie is. This isn’t –has never been– Buck’s house; Buck is used to his own set of whiny floorboards, but he doesn’t know how to walk through Eddie’s own. Eddie almost reaches out to him – but that won’t help. Not when Helena is turning from her son to look at Buck –his body– like a shark.

“I see that Christopher wasn’t wrong.”

“You don’t know anything ,” Eddie snaps at her. Buck, head ducked down – curled around his front– hurries a little more quickly to Eddie’s side.  “Where is he?”

The dinner table is empty of recipients; just two plates, ready and waiting for the meal, probably still hot too. Eddie knocked at the door before his parents could start eating, and the more bitchy part of him wants to find satisfaction in it –have him be the one to drop unannounced, for once– but he’s more focused on the lack of a third plate.

“ Chris ?” He calls out to the house – loud like he’d done his best not to raise his voice growing up. Eddie doesn’t let his skin prick at hearing the distaste in his mom’s voice.

“He’s still in his room. Where you made him hide – genuinely, Eddie, what is your plan here?  You’re going to drag him outside? Like that will help? It’s exactly the reason why Chris wanted to live with us.”

“He wanted to leave with you; you were the one that didn’t let him want to come back. I waited for weeks–” Eddie forces himself to stop. Breathes deeply; swallows. Buck, still close by, is watching him in concern. Eddie can’t allow himself to slot into an argument as much as he couldn’t let Buck flag behind. His fist is still tight by his side as he simply restarts on his shouting. “Chris!”

It’s hard to keep that composure when Helena won’t stop speaking – won’t stop scoffing . Ramon, still watching every proceeding from back in the house’s entrance –looking at Eddie and his wife from across the dining room archway– remains quiet; he lets Helena argue. He lets Eddie be argued at.

“Eddie – what is this? A prison escape? Be serious.”

“You didn't exactly ask us to join you for dinner.”

“How could I, when you’re barged inside first?”

“It's the only thing to do when you’re not invited in–”

“Besides,” his mother continues, ignoring him. “I didn't prepare dinner for four.” Her mouth curls – looking pointedly at Buck, and his middle. Eddie’s hackles raise at just the eyesight. “Or six, I suppose.” Her voice is full of derision.

“Do not speak to him like that.” He can’t stop himself from fighting in this part. “Don’t even try.”

“Decide which of your children you’re going to be fussing about. Me and your father still want to eat tonight.”

“You’re unbelievable ,” Eddie’s voice cracks. “When did you start being this way? Jesus fucking christ.” Eddie thinks about Shannon –standing awkwardly through the wedding reception in their backyard and having to deal with Ramon and Helena alone for years after– and finds he can fit more guilt inside after all. It’s no wonder she felt so abandoned. Eddie grew up with these people; maybe he should have expected it. Maybe –for all he had to work with her when he was a kid– he just never really knew his mother.

Buck reaches out to him – the same unconscious care that had Eddie looking back for him. Eddie wants to feel taken care of at it, and not just more vulnerable to have his mother watching.

“Eddie. Do you really think it’s a good idea to have brought along the whole reason Christopher is locked in his room? It’s like you’re not even trying.”

Buck’s hand falls. Eddie, eye twitching, goes back to fully glaring at his mother. “Buck’s not the reason,” he grits out. “Chris has been angry with me, and this is just another fallout. Everything will be fine when me –and Buck– talk with him.”

“That man was there when me and your father had to go pick Christopher up last year. Sincerely, I don’t think the company has shown to be of much help when all those things happened.”

“I don’t care about what you think,” Eddie tells her. He grabs and holds Buck by the wrist as he walks to leave the dining room – stepping past his mother. He’s changing directions; if Chris isn’t at the dinner table, then Eddie is going right to his bedroom.

Christopher is already out in the hallway when Eddie steps out.

He must have been for a while. Ramon, having never moved an inch, was already looking at his grandson; something hard to read in his face. He didn’t speak up when he noticed Christopher leaving his room to go out into the argument; Eddie doesn’t know what to assume regarding that. Mostly, he’s much too focused in the way that, for the first time in months, he’s seeing his son in person.

“Chris,” Eddie breathes out. It leaves him more vulnerably than Eddie would have wished for, in the coat-tails of the fight.

Chris is without his crutches, keeping his balance with the help of the wall by his side; he couldn’t have used them, Eddie realizes, not if he wanted to come out of his room as quietly as he did. It’s hard to read his face. Eddie had watched him go through the faster growth of early teenagehood from across a screen, and as much as he’s followed the changes, it’s still earth-shattering to see it first hand. Eddie might as well lose his breath.

He can recognize Christopher, but just so. The expression on his face –stony– is reminiscent of months ago, when he refused to even look at Eddie, nevermind tell him goodbye, as he left Los Angeles, but there’s something unreadable in it too. Eddie doesn’t recognize it as well. Aside from the video calls he’s had the luck to share with Christopher, he didn’t follow his expression day to day. He doesn’t know what this new one –stiffness, in an adolescent’s face– means.

It brings Eddie no comfort to hear that his mother is just as shocked to see Christopher outside his room. Buck, by Eddie’s side, lets out a shuddery breath at the sight.

“Christopher,” Helena says – voice more unsure than when she’d been more or less shouting at Eddie and Buck. “Sweetheart – I don’t think you should be here for this.”

For this what , Eddie wants to snap. He keeps looking at Chris instead – the kid he saw learn to read, and then use his crutches. He’ll need adult ones soon; maybe he already does. Christopher is taller. He’ll be as tall as Eddie, maybe.

Chris ignores Helena as much as Eddie did. “Just came here for Buck.” He ignores Eddie too – turns his eyes away, and doesn’t look back. But he isn’t looking at Buck either; his eyes are locked on a part of the floorboards and stubbornly holding on, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Eddie is so focused on studying each and every change on his son’s face, he almost doesn’t realize what he has just said.

He turns his eyes to Buck – a little out of breath. Both of them are as their eyes meet. Buck almost looks scared; for Eddie or Chris, Eddie doesn’t know.

“Chris,” he starts again – but Christopher is already turning around. Still holding on to the wall as he makes his way back towards his Texas’ room. It’s Eddie’s old one.

“Come on,” Christopher rumbles behind, voice sounding between tired and exasperated. He doesn’t look back; neither to Eddie nor Buck, or his grandmother, for that matter. He’s not waiting to be followed

Buck looks at Eddie before he takes even one step. No matter how damp Eddie’s eyes have suddenly become, or the fact his hands have gained a new fine tremble, Eddie’s answer is to immediately nod.

“Go.”

Eddie will keep on the battlefront.

–

Chris doesn’t speak with Buck through the walk to what’s become his room, walking on ahead exactly so he can’t. It’s a clear enough cold shoulder. Buck answers with what he imagines is what Christopher wants: a silence of his own. It’s not like Buck thinks he’d be able to speak anyway.

It’s a good room. Bigger than the one in California, and not one bit alike. Christopher’s old room kept the same; he took very little with himself, and didn’t ask for anything to be sent later. His grandparents, Buck finds, have furnished his new room entirely on their own. There’s a bed on the corner, a bed-side table with Christopher glasses and a full plate of food, untouched, a desk against one of the walls with a new computer, a dresser with a TV on top and a video game console right beside it.

There’s posters on the walls, and a don’t speak with me, I’m gaming framed art that’s extremely reminiscent of the one Christopher still has at home. It’s the type of room a teenager would be glad to have, following him in age the way his bedroom in California hasn’t had the opportunity to, still with a kid print of planets on the bedcovers. Buck just feels more insecure again. Chris sits at the desk, isolated in the room, and doesn’t look back at him.

“I don’t want to talk.” He crosses his arms. His voice is rougher – lower. On the phone, it’s easier to pretend it’s the same one that Buck has always known; here, he can’t lie to himself that Christopher hasn’t grown up without them. “I just didn’t like how abuela was talking about you.”

Buck sniffs. He sits on Christopher’s new bed –no thematic print– looking at him, though Chris won’t do it back.

“Thanks,” he croaks.

Buck doesn’t know where to put his hands. He was still carrying his bag when he came inside the house, but it just seems like a further lie to keep it in front of his body. It feels like an insult to just show it openly though. Buck just sits awkwardly – uncomfortably.

Chris still won’t glance at him. Between every piece of discomfort Buck has felt in the last seven months –the last seven minutes– that feels like the worst.

“Won’t you please look at me?” He’s painfully aware of how pathetic the plea sounds. Chris still shakes his head – eyes burning at the flooring of his bedroom. “Christopher.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he repeats. The haughtiness is slightly familiar; Buck can think of a kid that didn’t want to do his homework, or talk about a problem at school. Now, Buck is the problem.

“I think we have to, buddy.”

“You had like, months, to speak about whatever,” Chris snaps. “I don’t care that you want to do it now.” The worst pain is how teary it all sounds.

“It’s not like you think.” Chris scoffs, and Buck doubles down. “ It’s not . I– I was keeping a secret, and, and a lie, and you’re right about that, but just that. Me and your dad aren’t…”

“What,” Chris asks, stony-voiced, when Buck doesn't continue. “Hiding a new kid? Just having a do-over?” His nostrils flare, but Buck knows it's just hurt beneath the anger. Eddie is just the same. “I thought…” But Christopher shakes his head. He still won’t look at him.

“Thought about what?” Buck asks and insists when he keeps quiet, “ Chris .” Buck knew him as a kind, well-considerate, well-meaning kid; exactly the one that would call Buck inside his room to protect him from his grandmother’s words. Some parts are there, though others are suddenly harder to find. Buck knows no disappearance is Christopher’s fault; he had seven months away from home, with people that were never well-meaning. He feels sick just thinking about what he could have heard from Eddie’s mom, when that was the woman Buck just heard talk. “I, I n-need you to speak with me. I need you to, to listen to me. We need to do it, if we want to solve this.”

“What is there to solve? You and dad are pretty happy on your own.”

“We’re not ,” Buck says – thinking about watching Eddie cry in Christopher’s room; of himself hiding in the bathroom, before he could cry too.

Chris’ eyes finally move back to him, but there’s just storminess for Buck to look into.

“So what – you’re going to tell me you and dad aren’t a thing?”

Buck sighs. In the pause, Chris just gets a little more fired up.

“W-what are you even thinking ? You looked at that and thought, ‘yeah, nice idea’? Are you insane ? He brought a–” Chris can’t finish the sentence, squeezing his hands into fists. “Do you want to be Marisol number two? You had a baby ? With that mustache?”

“Eddie’s not the father,” Buck starts with. He hates saying it like this, when that’s what Eddie will be –what he has been– but it’s as serviceable a word as he can find with an incensed teenager in front of him; one that is scoffing again. “He isn’t . I– I wasn’t with him until very, very recently. This week, in fact. Do you– do you remember Tommy?”

“The boyfriend you’re cheating on? Like dad did?”

“Ok– there was no cheating involved.” This time , Buck thinks. “I– I was still with Tommy, when, w-when I got the baby. I didn’t know I could, ah, get pregnant. He didn’t know either. We broke up independently.” Buck can’t tell Chris it was because of how bad Eddie was after he left. He’s never giving that kid even an ounce of guilt. “I learned about it later. I was– I was getting sick all the time. Eddie took me to the doctor.” Buck has to swallow down the thickness in his voice; at the memory, at the way Chris is watching him – more considering, now, but no less hard to be in the crosshairs. “I didn’t know,” he repeats.

“How does that even happen?” Christopher’s voice doesn’t sound any less angry – but he gives Buck the space to answer this time. It’s something.

“Uhm– m-my being pregnant or me not knowing about it? I just really know how to explain the second.”

“The second.”

“My parents aren’t…good with hospitals. They never had me checked – you know how some people, you know?” Chris nods, as vague as Buck is being about double fertility. “They said they did, though, and that I wasn’t like that. They lied.” Buck shrugs; the smile he tries to give Chris is shoddy though. His eyes are too damp.

That makes Chris go quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says. It still sounds sharp in his voice, but it’s no less genuine; Buck sniffles at the sentiment.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat – the snot in his nose. “But, uh. That was that. Yeah. Me and Tommy already weren’t together. We didn’t get back, when I decided I wanted the baby. He’s not– he had a bad relationship with his father.”

“Doesn’t everyone,” Chris mumbles. Buck’s eyes soften.

“You have a good dad, Chris. I know it doesn’t feel that way right now – but I don’t think I ever met someone as dedicated to his children as Eddie is.” He shakes his head – just to dislodge the new wave of water that comes over his eyes. “We weren’t together – y-you know? But Eddie still wanted to take care of me after Tommy didn’t. It just happened. Eddie is just– he’s so safe. And the first thing he promised me, before we got together, it was that he was going to bring you home. He didn’t want you to be away before we did.” Buck was the impatient one; Buck was the one that kissed Eddie first. Buck’s the one that always moves too hastily.

“Why did either of you not say anything ?”

“You were so angry at the start. When I-I discovered, you know, I was three months in. It was three months after your grandparents took you. You still weren't talking, not really. I wanted to give you and Eddie space – but the space kept stretching and t-then I was scared I was going to ruin anything.” Like now. Buck shakes his head; looks Chris right in the eyes. Both of theirs, already similar in color, are drowning just the same. “I didn’t want to be the reason you didn’t come home.”

“But you lied ,” Chris croaks.

“I know,” Buck nods – it rips him from the inside, seam to seam. “I know. I’m so sorry, buddy.”

He wishes he could reach forward – take Chris in his arms, the hugs he liked to have whenever he was sad as a little kid; angry because his dad found a girlfriend, worried because his dad wasn’t coming home tonight. Chris hugged so easily . Buck understands all those old people saying that children grew too fast. In a blink of an eye, this stopped being the little boy that fit on Buck’s lap. In a blink across state lines, he sprouted to the height, almost, of Buck’s shoulder. He missed everything. The possibility of missing anything more terrifies him.

Buck doesn’t reach forward. Chris doesn’t ask for it; he shakes his head, still across the other side of the bedroom, even if he just looks more sad than angry right now. It doesn’t feel any better to see. Buck’s heart is still cracking, cracking, cracking. He’s unarmored. He never is, with Chris.

“I want to be alone,” he tells Buck. He looks at him – but just so. Chris can’t keep the eyesight, voice already damp as it is. “I just– I want to be alone for a little while.” Buck nods – it’s all he can do. “But I don’t want you and dad to be outside. I don’t want you to– to keep fighting.”

“Okay. Okay – we, we can find somewhere for the night. Give you space, ok?” Christopher nods too, shily, and Buck tries to take it as a victory. “We can– we can come back tomorrow. We will come back tomorrow. Can we talk then?”

Chris shrugs, looking away. Buck knows he’s getting close to the limit; his shoulders are bunched up and taut in the way Eddie’s own become when he’s overwhelmed.

“Can you still talk with your dad tonight? Just a word? Just– just see him? Please? It would mean the world to him.”

For a second, Buck isn’t sure if he’s asking too much and cluelessly ruining everything, but Chris eventually nods, even if he still won’t meet his eyes.

“Okay,” Buck tells him. “We’ll leave. Come see us out?”

“Just from the bedroom,” Chris mumbles. “I don’t want to see grandma and abuelo.”

“That’s fine. Eddie can talk to you from the door. It’s fine. Thank you.” Buck squeezes at the arm of his bag at the lack of Christopher’s shoulder.

Buck couldn't know if Eddie was still receiving stray bullets from where he was left to stay outside of Christopher’s room; there was a little ways from where it opened up to the hallway and the direction of the living room, and you could probably have a whole argument and have it go unheard, as long as you kept your voice low enough. He still hopes it hasn’t been the case – though, still in Eddie’s parent’s house, there’s no way that Buck can ask Eddie about it. He’s quiet when Buck finds him, sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room – curled over his knees, and resting his chin on his hand. His parents are on the other sitting places across the room, seemingly just as quiet, but they perk just as much as Eddie when Buck comes back from the hallway. Chris keeps back in his room.

“He wants to talk with you,” Buck tells Eddie – not looking at either Ramon or Helena. He can’t say that it's only for goodbye –not with those two watching– but something awful clenches in Buck’s stomach at the hope that surges over Eddie’s face.

“Okay.” Eddie immediately rises from his chair, not waiting for his mother to stop him; he doesn’t look back at any other recipients in the room as he walks towards Buck. Buck does the same, if only so he can focus on Eddie and, catching his eyes, shake his head slightly.

“He’s not coming today,” he whispers to Eddie. It hurts more when Buck actually has to see his eyes dimen. “Hey – this is still promising.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything in agreement or not; he just follows towards Christopher’s room, and waits when Buck knocks lightly on his closed door.

Eddie lets out a breath when Christopher pulls it back a smidge, only enough for his head and shoulders to slip out. He doesn’t look at his father – but Eddie doesn’t need it.

“I love you. You’re the most important thing in the world for me. That will never change.”

Christopher doesn’t speak, but, when Eddie steps forward, he allows his father to lay a kiss on the top of his head. Eddie doesn’t have to duck as much to meet it. Buck watches them with longing in his throat.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he says against his hair. Eddie brushes a hand through it before stepping back. “I’ll come back everyday, if you need it.”

Chris sniffs, staying quiet otherwise. Eddie lets him.

Buck doesn’t know if he’s allowed the same goodbye –he asked it only for Eddie– but he at least tells it to Christopher, even if standing apart physically hurts him.

“I’ll see you, buddy.”

He doesn’t expect an answer any more than Eddie did. They watch Chris hide back in his room together, two standing rocks. When the door closes again a full bodied-shudder runs through Eddie – though he manages to keep himself silent. Buck reaches a hand out to touch the small of his back.

“Can we leave?” he asks quietly. It’s not a relief to see Eddie nod. Buck just feels exhausted.

-

Eddie’s parents don’t succeed in restarting the argument when Eddie moves straight past them, a hand holding on to Buck’s wrist, and they leave to find a cheap enough hotel for the night. It’s an even worse Uber ride when they’ve both been run through the ringer, and can’t let themselves fall in front of a stranger, but Eddie holds Buck’s hand through the whole way. The bag keeps on Buck’s lap. Beneath it, he takes his free hand to cradle the bump. It’s not such a serviceable comfort tonight.

The hotel is another hit to their wallet. Buck insists to be the one to pay this time – Eddie had already done it in the airport. The receptionist doesn’t openly stare at them, which is a grace on itself, but they’ve 100% clocked Buck. When he’s paid with his credit card and signed a guest term, they gently tell him, “We can send extra pillows if you need support for your back.” Buck can only give them a tight smile.

His body is hurting after spending most of the day sitting down, and it’s extra ridiculous that all Buck can do to alleviate it is find another seat. He cracks his back on their hotel bed after drooping down, turning his spine around like a trick he found on the internet, and sighs brokenly at the partial relief. Buck puts a hand on his lower back as he breathes out, massaging it slightly, and doesn’t even try to be subtle when he turns to Eddie, checking him. His jaw and shoulders are tight. Eddie keeps standing.

Buck opens his arms to him. “Come on.” Eddie doesn’t resist, which is a sign on its own. Buck wraps his arms around him when he’s close enough to reach, pulling Eddie beside him on the bed, and cradles him close.

The breath Eddie takes is slightly broken. “What did you two talk about,” he whispers beside Buck’s ear. Buck runs a hand through the back of Eddie’s hair.

“I explained some things. Cleared up the big misunderstanding.”

“He thought I got another kid.” Eddie sounds defeated – run dry. It’s a dead weight that’s resting against Buck’s body; he tries to hold it gently enough.

“Yeah,” Buck doesn’t try to hide. “But he knows it wasn’t like that now. He knows you were just taking care of me.” And them . Buck doesn’t know if the baby’s reminder will be of any comfort to Eddie either right now. “Still mad that we lied though.”

“Yeah,” Eddie lets out in a big breath. He sounds just as exhausted. It’s still better than grieving.

He pulls back from Buck first – two big pits underneath his eyes, and evening stubble he never got around to taking care of. They didn’t sleep on the plane, or had something to eat before it, Buck realizes. He’s a little too nauseous to be genuinely hungry, but he knows this isn’t a thing he gets to overlook right now. It’s with ostensive regret that he finishes unwrapping himself from Eddie, looking at him a little shily.

“Do you still remember anywhere close that does take out?”

Eddie’s brow rises with regret. “Shit. You didn’t have dinner.” Or lunch. Buck doesn’t remember Eddie about that.

“You didn’t either,” he still does this part. “We could order something? I’m not really looking forward to leaving the room again.”

Eddie’s hand settles on top of Buck’s middle with something like an apology. It’s more than one kind.

“Buck…”

“Hey – it’s okay.” He feigns some humor, though it falls flat, “You did warn me about her. The lady would give Margaret Buckley a run for her money.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh, or even give Buck a pity smile. That crease on his forehead keeps there.

“I hate the way she spoke about you.” The hand on Buck’s stomach flexes – Buck raises his own to rest on top of it. “I’m sorry.”

Buck shrugs. What can he really say?

“Chris didn’t like it either,” he eventually confesses. It gets Eddie’s eyebrow to twitch. “It was why he called me. It wasn’t that he wanted to speak with me.”

“You still got him to talk,” Eddie shakes his head. “It means something. Thank you.”

Buck can’t accept gratitude when they’re sitting inside a random hotel room and Chris in another part of town.

He shakes his head. Still, diplomatically, he tells Eddie, “We’ll do more tomorrow.”

It gets Eddie to nod. He runs his thumb over Buck’s belly for a moment, before finally letting go. “But let's get you food first.”

–

The next day Eddie sends Christopher a message to please tell them when he’s woken up as soon as he’s out of bed, and spends the morning in a nervous standstill, waiting for Chris to say anything. He lets Buck sleep in – last night was restless for both of them, but Buck can’t afford to run on an empty tank when he’s carrying such a priceless passenger. Eddie only leaves the bedroom to find them food, eating his silently as he takes turns between watching his phone and Buck, snoring softly against the pillows, and it’s long before either change. Buck wakes up with a yawn, looking blearily around the room before his eyes finally land on Eddie. Eddie’s phone chirps as Chris, like he’s mentally connected to Buck, sends him that text right then.

“Eddie?”

“Hey.” He puts the phone down and steps beside the bed to kiss Buck on the lips, giving him the paper bag of gorditas he got from a stand around the hotel’s corner as he pulls away; Buck’s lips thrum as he hums sleepily. “Chris just sent me the okay to talk. Can you eat quick?”

“Y-yeah.” Any remains of sleep immediately disappear from Buck’s face as soon as he's heard Christopher’s name. Eddie has to force the bag a little further in Buck’s hands to make sure he’ll actually have breakfast.

“Don’t choke. I’ll take a shower.” Eddie kisses him a second time just for his peace of mind; something to quiet the anxiety inside his own stomach. He’s feeling a little choked up himself.

Eddie leaves the bathroom already dressed, finding Buck crumbling the bag from his breakfast into a tight ball and looking about as unprepared as Eddie feels. They don’t take time to leave after that. Buck is the one to search for a ride this time, Eddie texting nervously with Chris about where he would want to talk with them, and it’s more or less decided that the Diaz household is the last place any of them want. He tells Christopher to wait for them on the porch, and more or less expects the scene they find when the Uber pulls up in front of Eddie’s parents' house. Helena is waiting for them right beside Christopher, though he's not looking at his grandmother. Eddie doesn't know if he's surprised that his father is nowhere to be seen.

He asks the car to wait just a second and gets out after squeezing Buck’s knee – a gesture of mutual comfort. From afar, Eddie can already see that Chris is bagless –just himself to be taken for a conversation, all Eddie needs anyway– but Helena stands close like she's about to witness a kidnapping; as if, essentially, she didn't do something similar months ago.

“Eddie,” Helena’s voice is the same as yesterday, rattled, exasperated and admonishing in equal parts. Eddie, like his son, doesn't look at her – he stays more focused on catching Christopher’s eye, and smiling –albeit weakly– with what he hopes will be enough reassurance.

“Hey. Good to go?” He asks Chris. Helena, by his side, is the one to answer.

“You're just leaving ?”

“It’s not a crime to take my son out,” Eddie grits out to his mother. He reaches a hand out to help balance Chris as he slowly steps down the porch with his crutches.

He doesn't content Helena with any other answer; not as if it would help, anyway. Eddie leads Chris to the Uber, always keeping a close hand, and thanks the driver for waiting when Chris finally gets inside the car. He's between Buck and Eddie, both at each corner of the backseats, and Buck smiles shyly at Chris immediately at arrival.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Chris answers under his breath. He just looks up at Buck for a moment – glancing at the new loose shirt he's put on today, and the lack of any bag to hide himself. Not that Buck isn't a little curled on himself anyway. Eddie doesn't know what Chris finds of the view, but he supposes the quiet isn't all bad; the three of them can talk when they’re alone.

It's a sunday – if there's any silver lining about any of this is that it all happened on a saturday, and Eddie doesn't have to actively fight against Christopher’s school to have time to speak with him. Buck doesn't know anywhere in El Paso, and it's Eddie that chose the place they’re going, a park not so far from the Diaz’s house, somewhere Eddie frequented himself when he was Christopher’s age. It's slightly full of families, mostly child-aged, and Eddie wonders if that's what they look like, stepping out of the car. He hopes so. He hopes that’s still what they’ll get to be, after everything.

Chris is quiet. Not explosive nor snarky, just a silent presence as Eddie finds them a picnic table to sit on, Buck and Eddie on one side and Christopher across from them on the other, a chasm in the form of cheap, painted wood. He doesn’t look nervous –different from Buck, who might as well be about to vibrate out of his skin– but Eddie has to admit to himself that, after months of living apart, he doesn’t know Christopher’s tells as well as before. The unreadability is a blunt pain to his chest, and he tries to move past it too. If this conversation goes well, he’ll get to read Christopher’s emotions every day again.

Eddie doesn’t really know how to pick a start though; not when there’s so many things to say.

Buck does it himself, carrying the same nervous energy that made him eat three gorditas under the span of five minutes, and fidget through the entire drive towards Helena and Ramon’s home. “Have you eaten? We can find, uh, a food stand.”

“Don’t need one.” Christopher’s eyes are low – only looking properly at either Buck or Eddie when he wants (rarely). Eddie doesn’t know if it’s from awkwardness or anger. He still considers it a victory wheneve Christopher raises his eyes towards him.

“Thanks for coming out with us,” Eddie tells him. Ramon wasn’t wrong about a Diaz’s certified cold-shoulder. He’s grateful for the chance.

Chris just shrugs, but it doesn’t change that. This is a boy that’s easier for Eddie to recognize; considerate despite everything. It can’t have been easy to put anger away. It isn’t for Eddie.

“You wanted to talk,” Chris says. “And I…” wanted to understand. Eddie doesn’t need Christopher to finish the sentence.

“I’m sorry that you had to find out that way.” Christopher goes back to looking down again –eyes on the table’s surface– but Eddie knows he’s still listening. The fact he’s not scoffing feels like a victory in itself. “Me and Buck didn’t want you to learn like that.” An accidental text, with zero context and zero warning. Eddie doesn’t know how he would have bridged this conversation, if he had the proper chance before – but he knows he never wanted to pull the rug out from Christopher. Even if, unintentionaly, that was exactly what happened. Secrets have a way to end like that. It hasn’t been the first time.

“Did you want me to learn at all?” Christopher still spares some snarkiness. Beside Eddie, Buck’s spine straigthens, ready to defend both of them, but Eddie sticks with leading the ship.

“ Yes. ” There’s no doubt in him regarding that. He hopes Christopher hears the complete lack of it in his voice. “It was always the plan to tell you everything. But me and Buck didn’t know how. I’m sorry we took too long.”

“Buck said you were scared I’d get angry,” Christopher says in a small voice, almost looking regretful – for proving them right. Eddie immediately shakes his head.

“You deserve to be.” After everything, Eddie would be willing to walk through years of anger, if it meant Chris could get every tiny thing out. He has too much experience bottling everything up and having the glass blow from the inside; he doesn’t ever want Christopher to experience the cut of any shard. “You’ll always deserve to be.”

“I don’t want to be angry,” Chris argues. It almost sounds like a snap – ironic, in a way. Christopher has to recognize it too, because he almost looks abashed at his raised voice. Shoulders curled and brow knit, he looks exactly his age. “I feel awful every time. I just wanted you to speak with me.”

In front of both Buck and Eddie, the sentence can just as easily be for either of them. But Christopher –finally– is looking at Eddie; more charged than just from yesterday. Maybe from all the last months too. For years, that had been the plea, Eddie knows – to have him speak with Christopher, before deciding on what he thought best. To speak with him, instead of doing –suffering– everything on his own. Bottling it up. Like father, like son, Eddie thinks. It’s with grief in his throat.

“Sometimes I don’t know how.” Not only with Christopher; but it’s worse with the most valuable. It’s not that Chris is made of porcelain, but in Eddie’s hands, he feels just as precious. He’s his baby.

“Can’t you learn? It’s always the same thing – you just do stuff. It’s like you don’t ever want to walk through them with me.” Chris doesn’t give Eddie –jolting painfully at the suggestion of not wanting even one thing with Christopher– the gap to answer that. “When we went to California you said it was going to be the two of us, but it’s just you.”

“I don’t want that–”

“But you do it anyway!” Like the curls and the blue of his eyes, Christopher is like Buck in that he tears up when he’s angry; it makes him look younger, as much as it cuts Eddie deeper, and he knows that if he would look to the side, Buck would look just as disembowel as he feels. “You keep working without talking with me, or you stop working without talking to me, you date Ana because you want, you cheat on Marisol because you want, you talk with that– with that woman, for some reason, because you want.” Chris tries blinking the tears –and the immediate anger– away. “I don’t know why you do half the stuff you do.”

Eddie doesn’t either. He doubts that’s what Christopher wants to know, though.

“He doesn’t keep you out of the loop on purpose,” Buck speaks up. He sounds like he has personal experience; Eddie knows he does. “Eddie just wants to protect you.”

“I don’t feel protected ,” Chris whines the word, “just that you’re keeping me away. And now Buck did it too!”

Eddie and Buck have to make twin faces of grief. Eddie doesn’t know if it’s that image, or just the rising feeling in Christopher’s chest, that makes him groan, raising his hands to cover his face as best as he can.

“ Ugh ! I hate being angry – I hate that you make me feel like this!”

“I hate it too,” Eddie croaks.

“But you still did it,” Chris insists. It’s not a purposeful slap but it still stings; seeing Christopher’s face –red, and still teary-eyed– when he pulls his hands away, curling awkwardly into fists, does the same. “Not only now – or before. But you keep doing it.”

It’s not anger that sticks on Christopher’s face when he quietens – it’s just hurt. It cuts at Eddie’s heart, like the small, confused, “Mom?” Chris gave when he saw Kim, those months ago, like the way he refused to look Eddie in the eyes when he left Los Angeles – too furious to see him, and uncomfortable at his own angry tears.

Eddie doesn’t want his forgiveness – not in the sense he doesn’t think he needs it, but that he doesn’t deserve it. There’s a part of him that is almost glad to see that Chris is still angry; he’s too merciful even for his own good, and Eddie doesn’t want Chris to forgive him on the basis of being a good kid alone. He deserves to feel hurt. He deserves to say he is.

It’s still a balm to sit in front of him. Despite the anger and the hurt – Chris is still a balm. He’ll probably always be; Chris can be furious at Eddie, and he’ll still be grateful to be able to look at him, to have him close. 800 miles, Eddie thinks. 800 miles and seven months for Chris to brood. Of course his parents never helped with that; they bought furniture and put Chris in chess, and they didn’t speak a word to Eddie – to either of them. Not a good word, anyway.

Talking about it –even thinking about– makes Eddie feel like throwing up, but he forces himself through it; after almost eight months of radio silence on this, even if mutual, it’s what Christopher deserves.

“Her name was Kim.” Even Buck jolts a little beside him at the name – a look like fear in his eyes. “I met her– I met her in a clothing store. It wasn’t on purpose at first; but she looked so much like…”

Christopher’s face sets like stone at her mention. He still asks Eddie, “Did it help?” without it carrying even a suggestion of a taunt.

“No,” Eddie confesses. It’s not a relief; he just feels like a well run dry. “Not one bit.”

There was a moment –after Kim came back to his house with a new haircut and forced herself inside, made Eddie talk with her– that he almost tricked himself that it did. He finally got to talk, and tell Shannon what he’d been carrying for years. But it was nothing but theater – it was just Kim in front of him. Shannon hadn’t been, and would never, ever, be able to again. Eddie’s going to have to live with that for the rest of his life.

At the end of that evening he didn’t gain closure. He just lost his son.

“Why did you do it then?” Christopher asks him. He sounds so confused, it hurts Eddie.

“I don’t know.” Even now –months of therapy and self-reflection at the dark of night– Eddie doesn’t. He knew what he wanted out of it – he isn’t sure what he thought he’d ever been able to gain though. He didn’t, anyway – gain anything. He’s just a man sitting in front of his son for the first time in months now.

The park isn’t quiet; there’s too many kids running around for that, and they’re sitting close to the playground as it is, but the noise works as a barrier of privacy more than anything else. It’s too rampant for anyone to listen in on the conversation –ask themselves what the hell had this guy done– but the family crowd, really, is a mark of the same thing that he, Buck and Chris are doing: having a life together. It wasn’t that long ago that Chris was the age of some of the kids running around. It wouldn’t be that long before the baby would get there either. Eddie doesn’t want these parts to be sapart from one another. He wants to be one of the dads waiting by the benches: watching a son in the playground while he holds another, a baby so young they can’t even hold up their own head yet. He wants his family – whole. He wants Chris to be a part of it again.

“I’m sorry you were the last to know.” That Denny knew about the baby and the party so naturally he just assumed Chris did too had to be one of Christopher’s biggest hurts. Eddie never wanted to keep him isolated –not when Chris was the one to attempt that first, driving away with his grandparents to Texas– but fear made it happen anyway. It isn’t that Eddie can flip a switch, or promise that nothing like it would happen ever again (not when he still needs to go back to Frank every few years, a seesaw of a black hole), but when he reaches a hand out to his son, throat a little too tight, he wants to promise this part at least. “I – I’m just sorry.”

Chris’ nose twitches damply from beneath his glasses. He looks like he believes Eddie when, after reaching a hand across the table, palm up, Chris finally takes his.

Buck ends up going after a food-stand after all. Out of bed on early sunday, and having walked though metaphorical coal across the length of this conversation, the three of them need the extra fuel. Eddie watches Buck go from the same place on the picnic table, tracking his way across the few food sellers already present in the park. From afar, Eddies feels a bit like an unserviceable bodyguard – not directly accompanying Buck, though neither of them can fault the reasoning (keeping Chris company). The mornings always made his muscles ache the worst.

Buck chooses a hotdog stand.

Chris has come to sit on the other side of the table, taking the seat beside Eddie now that Buck has got up. He takes part in Eddie’s watching, a quiet affair, after most of what they had to say is more or less all out in the open. Aside from the exhaustion –physical and emotional– Eddie feels a bit more settled too with Christopher’s weight right beside him. It’s a familiar company – even with the time that’s passed. Sitting down, Christopher is almost to Eddie’s height already.

The quiet attention in his face isn’t so different to Eddie’s; taking care of Buck from afar. The hotdog guy is chatty, exchanging small talk with Buck while he preps the food, and the conversation seems to do away with the last rigidity of Buck’s shoulders; Eddie can see how loose they are from where he’s sitting down. Grinning at something the vendor is saying, Buck doesn’t look like he has had a rough two days; the expression on his face is open and easy. His hand settles on his lower back casually to support the low ache he’s had for the last month, entirely unconcerned about the public for the first time. He looks like something that’s slotted into place.

Eddie’s glad to share the silence with Christopher – not as tense as before. Still, he’s likewise content when the kid is the one to pick up the conversation again; no matter which it is.

“Aren’t you scared that you’re gonna ruin it?”

Christopher’s voice isn’t accusing. The question is entirely earnest, enough to pull a rueful smile to Eddie’s face; when he glances to the side, it’s to see the slightly abashed look at Christopher’s face, when he’s realized how the words sounded. It’s not so different an expression to when Buck completely fumbles a conversation, but just notices it after the fact. Chris still doesn’t retract his statement.

He’s honest, and Eddie wants to be honest with him too, even it might be slightly scary to hear back. “Terrified.” Eddie wishes he could just reassure Chris like when he was smaller, promise that this –him and Buck– isn’t something he’ll ever have to worry about, but Eddie has lived through too much to just blindly hope for the best. Chris has too.

“But you’re still gonna try it?”

“Not feeling a good seal of approval,” Eddie tries to joke, gambling on if this is something he still gets to do. The joke falls flat –Christopher just looks unimpressed when Eddie turns to him– but the conversation doesn’t immediately die then and there, and that has to mean something. He answers again. “Yes. I can’t be sure of anything – but I’m sure that I want to try. Buck does too.”

It’s a fragile conversation by topic alone, but Eddie still wishes that Chris could look a little more reassured; mostly, he just seems scared. Eddie can’t say he doesn’t understand it.

“You guys don’t have a good track record.” Neither Buck nor Eddie. The last year has certainly proved that; but it’s proven other things too.

“That record wasn’t between us.”

“Yeah, but–” Christopher stops himself from talking, an annoyed expression coming to his face – only turned back onto himself. He restarts with a groan. “Ugh. I swear I’m not trying to make you break up. It’s just– I’m scared it’s going to go wrong.”

“I know,” Eddie tells him gently. It still doesn't seem to reassure Chris much.

“But what if it does? Go wrong?” Eddie would hope it wouldn’t be a reason for Christopher to come back to Texas again, for one (he doesn’t say that). Mostly, though, he just hopes that Buck and him are strong enough that it doesn’t mean anything would be ruined forever. It’s getting easier to trust that it won’t. He’s sitting beside Christopher – watching Buck buy an extra hotdog for the baby.

“It’s different,” he tries to find a way to start, “with children.” The one beside Eddie and the one still inside of Buck. Eddie feels fondness thinking of both, flighty and fluttery in his sternum. He has to force himself to properly continue, almost light-headed. “Me and Buck – it wouldn’t be like a one-month relationship.”

“So what – you’d keep together in a loveless marriage?”

It’s mostly snark –and how had Eddie missed it these last few months– but there’s a genuine question in Christopher too; Eddie shakes his head at both.

“It’s not that. I just mean we wouldn’t let anything get too bad.” Kim-bad. Secrets-bad. Fallout-bad. Eddie had tried to do it on his own, months ago – but he’d been too alone to hold back the wave. Even if the isolation had been purposeful at the time. “Buck wouldn’t let me do anything too crazy. I wouldn’t let him either. We’ve already been doing it, for a while now.”

For a very long time, Eddie knows. The last developments –cohabitation, then an actual partnership, and sex– are only the last dots in a much older line. It’s a steadiness that Eddie has only played at, during past relationships, more focused in acting out what he thought was the right role, but that he now finds is almost natural to fall into. It’s easy to take care of Buck, but it’s easy to be taken care of by him too. Eddie wants to do absolutely everything with him by his side.

Which is why he wants this too.

“I didn’t know you liked…” Chris trails off.

“It’s – new.” At least from the action standpoint. Eddie can’t say he’s sure about everything –his sexuality, the relationships he had in the past, the fact he never really thought of another man like he does Buck (not he has ever thought of anyone like he does Buck)-- but he finds it easy to live without asking too mang questions. He’s loved Buck for a long time – it just took a while for Eddie to notice it. He’ll continue to love him until they’re both dead, and it doesn't seem to matter to wonder if Eddie’s gay, or just gay for Buck, when he’s the only one Eddie wants to be with.

He looks up at Chris. “Is that…alright?”

“Dad,” Chris deadpans. The unimpressed look at his face, at least, is entirely familiar. Eddie chortles even before Christopher is finished saying, “This is the normalest thing about this.”

“Alright.” Eddie doesn’t think he would have wanted any other reassurance. He looks back to Buck, soft in the morning light, feeling his eyes gentle, and lets that be that.

Eddie allows a last moment of silence as he mulls his words carefully. He’s not as scared of getting a bad grade as much as phrasing it properly, even for himself, why he’s taking a gamble with Buck, and their baby too. He wants Chris to know.

“I missed a lot – with you. When you were younger.” And now, a second time, more than a decade after the fact – but Eddie doesn’t need to talk about that. Not now. “When I look at Buck, and I think about his kid, I– I know I don’t want to be missing from their side. I’m more scared of that than doing something wrong.” And he will – eventually. Eddie knows that’s non-negotiable. Mostly, he’s just learning that it isn’t non-unforgiving either.

He knows it’s impossible to completely assuage Christtopher’s worries with just words – the same way it’s impossible to prove himself to him again with anything beyond his actions. He can’t argue – he has to show. That’s the chance he asks for, when he looks at Chris. About him and Buck both –and the baby. He’s ready to do it for as long as it takes until he only thing on Christopher’s face is the same easy trust he had when he was seven, and Eddie was asking him to come to California with him.

“I wish I could promise you I won’t fuck up again – but I don’t wantt to break anymore promises. I just want everyone home. Buck. You.” Eddie’s throat clicks. “My family.”

Christopher’s jaw flexes when he takes a deep breath. Losing every bit of the baby fat day after day, it’s something that it does now – an expression like an adult’s. Eddie’s baby turned into the young man that still looks him in the eyes, even when both of them are pools of discomfort, and gives –almost unsurely– a shaky nod. It’s all Eddie can do not to immediately wrap an arm around his shoulder.

“Grandma said…” he stops, suddenly unsure. Chris only continues after he sees he expression on Eddie’s face – not that he can find a word himself for what he’s feeling, tight and burning. “When I learned about the party. I thought– I thought you are moving on. Grandma kept saying these things, you know, when you didn’ come pick me up.”

“I thought you wanted space,” Eddie says, though I might as well be a croak.

“I’m fourteen,” Chris complains, somewhere between distasteful and just small. “I don’t know what I want. But it looked– it looked like it was okay that I was here. I didn’t know how to feel about that. And grandma started calling here home.” Christopher’s jaw flexes again. “I didn’t know how to feel about that either.”

“I never wanted you to stay. I just– didn’t know how to ask you to come back.”

Chris almost looks bothered as he keeps looking at Eddie.

“Can’t you just ask now?”

Eddie had planned for things in the methodical way that, from afar, seems like the best. Time for Christopher to finish his midterms. Time for Christopher to tell goodbye to his new friends. Time for Christopher to tell goodbye to the city and the house he was living in; the house where Eddie had lived too. Sitting across from him though, seeing just how ready Chris already looks, Eddie hardly feels the need for any planning. It’s too easy to just ask him what he’s been wishing he could for months.

Eddie finally wraps that arm around his shoulders – so tall now. A teenager in his own right. Still Eddie’s baby. “Will you please come home?”

He only needs to nod. Eddie takes another gamble, and hugs him. It’s the sweetest type of content to have him pat against Eddie’s own back, letting his head lie on Eddie's shoulder. It reaches there now. Eddie breathes the smell of his curls in.

“Don’t hurt Buck,” Chris tells him in the end, when he goes to pull back. Eddie is aware that he is not the only one he has to promise not to hurt. It’s the easiest possible task to receive.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises earnestly.

Buck is balancing four full hotdogs when he gets back, two in each hand, filled to the brim with additionals – the way they’d eat in the events at Christopher’s school, when one of those hotdogs was bigger than the kid’s hand. Buck is grinning in much the same way.

“Here you go,” he gives Chris his first, still vulnerable in the display. He only pulls his hand back when he’s sure Christopher is holding the food safely. It’s with a soft expression that he watches Chris thank him quietly for the food; the same face Buck has when he looks at onesies. It’s taken seven years for Eddie to find its name.

Buck sits down before giving Eddie his own hotdog. They all keep on the same side of the table’s bench, pressed together to fit, Buck and Eddie at each corner like the three of them make up their own sandwich. Eddie thanks Buck softly, and watches him lick at a ketchup stain on his wrist, almost dropping one of the two hotdogs left in his hands at the movement.

Christopher watches him quietly too. It’s not consideration on his face as much as a gathering of courage.

“Do pregnant people really eat for two?” The question is earnest; slightly shy. Looking back at Chris, Buck’s face melts entirely at it.

“Just Buck,” Eddie answers for him. Buck’s glare is just too glad right now to work. The space beneath his eyes –happy crow’s feet– is too crinkled up.

-

Eddie’s mom throws a storm when he comes back into her house without Chris (or Buck, for that matter – but Helena doesn't seem to care too much about the latter). Eddie arrived alone on the porch –his mother had been waiting by one of the windows like a watcher from a guard tower, barging out at Eddie’s first sign– and he plays the part of a sole battlefront well, better than before; entirely comforted, for once, knowing who’s waiting for him after. There’s some relief in knowing this will be the last time too.

Maybe one day Eddie would have been more broken up with leaving El Paso yet another time; right now, Eddie finds he’ll not miss it, or whatever else is in it, at all. His sisters have all moved cities. What good memory Eddie has beyond Soph and Ade –the street corners he’d rode a bike every day as a kid, where he took Shannon for their first date, where he kissed her for the first time, his grandmother’s old house, Pepa’s, the church Chris was baptized– they’ll probably live a better life just inside his head. At least there, they get to be uncontaminated.

Eddie’s mom is all contagion. She’d been the one to drive him to school in the mornings and then to drive his son away from home decades after, and Eddie is still finding a way of fitting both together. He knows his mother didn’t go through a transformation –changeling-like– overnight. There had already been something there, easy to pretend away when Eddie wanted to keep his mom close. Helena –and Ramon– had been glad to make Eddie grow up too fast, two times over, and then keep treating him like a child when he already had a son of his own, just as long as it was convenient, and now he’s grown out of that particular want. It’s not without pain – but better a vaccine than an infection.

Eddie had made Buck and Chris wait inside the car. Yet another paid ride and yet another unknown driver to pay witness to their family’s dealing, and maybe that was part of the lack of any discussion about Eddie going in alone – Buck had just looked at Eddie as he left he car, big eyes following him right out the door. Eddie was –still is– unwilling to let either him or their son face what would have to be a grand meltdown, nuclear level, and he is as non-surprised to see that he was right on that front as relieved Buck and Chris didn’t come behind him. He's glad neither are here to hear Helena.

She’s followed him into Christopher’s bedroom – Eddie’s old one, still with the same crack on the wall when he’d been practicing with a baseball bat (cheeky irony, Eddie thinks). For all he’s doing his best not to engage her in conversation –short answers and no eye-contact, more focused on filling Christopher’s bags with what he can than giving Helena attention– she’s relentless; a dog biting at his heels. There’s only so much Eddie can try shooing it away.

“And how long before I get another call?”

“I dunno, mom. I’ll tell Christopher to try someone else next time.” Eddie is more partial to blocking both his grandparents' numbers, actually – but Helena doesn’t need to hear that.

“ Edmundo . How can you be joking in a time like this?”

“Do you want me to blow my top off instead?” Eddie looks back to her. His jaw twitches. “Because I can also do that.”

They’d taken a call for help as an opportunity, and would have ridden it to the very end. Grandma says , Eddie remembers, hearing it in Christopher’s voice. How many things had grandma and grandpa said in the months they had Christopher away? Eddie had been fighting against the current all along. There’s some fallout of his own to give too – if only he wasn’t so ready to get back to Christopher and Buck.

The suggestion of anger doesn’t make any regret show up on Helena’s face; her expression of self-righteousness just doubles down. “I was always doing what was best for Christopher. How can you blame me for that?”

“It wasn’t the best,” Eddie grits out. “The best would have been for him to be with his father – to talk about what happened instead of both of us hiding away. All you and dad did was steal Chris off.”

It’s fitting, in a way, that through the entirety of this argument, Eddie’s father is nowhere to be seen. He wonders if he’s even in the house or away, distant from home right to the very end. He’d mellowed out by age, but that’s not entirely a good thing. Wherever he is right now, Ramon has given up on the fight anyway; it just makes Eddie feel a new bitterness in his sternum. They –he and his father– could have been better. They almost were. After a whole childhood and early adulthood from Eddie having been marked with rancor, they almost really were. But that’s another life now. Eddie has to focus more on restarting the one he has with his own son.

“You can’t steal your own family–”

“Christopher is my family. My son. It was with me that he belonged, all this time. And you took that – from both of us.” Eddie shakes his head. Beneath the anger, he just feels sad. Until he gets out of this house once and for all, that’s all that will be left of it; of the walls, and the people, and the last, Chris-less months. Just hurt. It’s with it that he stares down his nose at his mother. “I’m never giving you the space to do that ever again.”

She follows him out of the house until a certain point. The car has the first view of Helena’s spectre, still shouting after Eddie right to the lawn, until that’s what she’s seeing too – not the unknown driver, as much as her grandson, watching from the backseats. Eddie sees the expression on Christopher’s face on his own, and the image matches with the slowing of Helena’s steps. Christopher is looking beyond Eddie, right at his grandmother. On a younger face, the hurt is more plain to see.

Eddie comes inside the car before Helena can react again. When it pulls up from the street, she’s still stuck halfway across the lawn – and maybe that was a reaction on its own. Eddie doesn’t look back to see the expression on his mother’s face. He focuses more on the one from the people sitting beside him in the car.

“Here,” he gives Christopher his bags gently; Buck helps move them onto his lap. They’re as full as remarkably light, when Eddie thinks that this was Christopher’s life for the last seven months. Whatever didn’t fit, he had to leave behind. He supposes there will always be something bittersweet about that. “We can pass by your school to get things from your locker.”

“Yeah?” Chris sounds slightly unsure – almost abashed. Eddie repeats it with further resolution.

“ Yes, ” he promises. He’d hunt after the principal’s number in a brand sunday if that’s what it takes.

“Can you show me the place?” Buck knocks his elbow gently against Christopher; when he looks, he gives him a sincere smile.

“Dad can do it too. Abuelo said it’s the same school you went to.”

But Eddie shakes his head. “Not my place anymore, kid.” It hadn’t been for a long time.

It makes Christopher go quiet for a little while.

“I can show it,” he finally tells Buck – the companionable little smirk Buck sends him making something warm flash in Eddie’s heart, just looking at the two of them.

They’ll need a new ride yet again after the visit to go to the airport. Eddie’s probably paying for every Uber El Paso has. He finds it hard to mind, looking at Buck and Chris.

Well – at least the city has a good customer’s base, Eddie thinks. He’ll never need the knowledge. It’s the last one he’ll ever carry from El Paso.

Chapter Text

Having Christopher back home is a whirlwind. A good whirlwind. Throughout every change, Buck still feels a smile stretch across his face, almost a pavlovian response –like the pang in his heart-- to seeing him back in the house. After eight months of absence, a growth spurt and the general ping-ponging of interests pre-adolescents go through, Christopher's room has been practically made useless; it didn't change one bit, and the three of them –a unit, again– have to scrap a lot. Every poster, bed sheet and decoration that Eddie puts away goes with loving gentleness, a new box to the few Eddie keeps in the attic (Christopher’s old clothes, crutches, glasses – there's no baby clothes. Buck doesn't ask). It's bittersweet to watch this kid Buck has always been close to grow up, but he feels proud too – and it's worth it. Christopher gets to remake his place home. He's always been his own person.

They haven't thrown him a welcome party – yet. Buck isn't sure if that's not in the works (Hen, party afficionado, still looked sorry the first time she met them back with him, despite having no fault in how Christopher found out, and it having worked out anyway), but life’s march is pretty steep. The fact Buck didn't get to finish his own baby shower proves that, even if it was worth it, to have Christopher home. There's always a new thing happening, and between rearranging Christopher’s room, buying him new clothes, and him and Eddie having to beg on their knees for Chris’ old school to accept him again in the middle of the school year (Carla helps), the first two weeks back are quite hectic. When Buck goes past the eight-month mark, he doesn't even notice it.

There’s a little over six weeks for the baby’s due date. When Buck does realize that, he carefully forgets it again. It’s a strategic decision before he starts freaking out.

Including Christopher in the baby’s things is a new development too. Buck feels a lightness he hadn't had the chance to for any of the previous eight months, not having to keep a lie or secret, and having Christopher be a part of this instead, Buck’s life and the other one he’s building, the one Chris will be a bigger brother to. Buck tries to focus on that instead of the guilt. There's nothing to be gained on thinking of what-ifs; he just tries to enjoy the fact he has Christopher now, a kid who's slowly getting comfortable with being snarky with them like before, but that, even then, lets Buck wrangle him around to shopping trips, even if Buck’s currently moving with the finesse of a tank.

“What do you think of this one?” Buck pulls a pair of jeans from the display table, holding it out for Christopher to see. It’s an adult’s pair; better for Christopher to grow into than out of (Buck gets a little teary eyed about it – whatever), loose on the legs with a good deal of pockets and a zipper too, easy for Chris to get into. It might be entirely off from what's hip with the kids now though – Christopher’s nose turns as he looks at it. “This one too?” Buck’s voice rises with incredulousness. “Come on – I’d have totally dug it when I was your age.”

“In the 80s?”

Buck humpfs childishly at Chris.

They follow to the next table. For all that Christopher doesn't fit in any of the clothes he'd left behind, he's a pretty hard customer to buy things to – Buck would know. What with light duty, and progressively lessened work hours in preparation for parental leave, he’s the one that gets to take Christopher out to clothing stores most of the time. Buck tries not to let his tail wag too much about the chance.

Christopher has been living out of the things Eddie managed to bring with him out of Texas,  but there was only so much space in the bags – two, for what had been almost an entire year away from home. When Buck was on the road six months felt like too much; he can only imagine how a kid would feel about seven.

Buck has tried to ask him –discreetly– if there was anything he really missed having been left behind in Texas, but the subject makes Christopher flighty; more than Eddie, actually. He’s too scared of making a mistake again to not be willing to talk about things. Chris just looks scared. He hasn't had eight months of therapy, Buck supposes.

Buck tries not to be too angry at his grandparents. It’s not for politeness – Buck just doesn't want to think of them at all, not when he and Eddie get to be the ones to have Christopher at home. But the effort is a challenge. It’s especially true when Buck thinks of Chris having been left by them to fester with his anger alone.

He isn't angry now. He walks beside Buck, giving quips about the clothes he’s choosing (so Buck is a 90’s kid – whatever) and sharing the space beside him –beside all of them– again. It’s quieter than usual, sure, but Chris is learning to fit his skin a second time; by his family’s side now – the real one. Buck doesn't mind the growing pains.

During the first week, one night, Chris had been so annoyed at Buck –for something so menial, Buck didn't even remember it anymore (he’s not even sure that Christopher himself does)– he shouted, loud and everything; like he had never done before. Aside from punctual arguments with Eddie, years ago, Christopher wasn’t one to raise his voice. It happens so out of nowhere it’s enough to quiet the whole room. Christopher looked as shocked at himself as Buck and Eddie did.

There was nothing to be angry about after; Christopher already seemed so miserable with himself for the blow up, Buck just wanted to talk with him, and understand. They're working on it – talking. Chris is not the only Diaz who’s had trouble voicing himself.

Buck likes it more when he's like this – a teenager in his own right, but feeling comfortable again. “You’re moving like bisabuela,” Chris tells him, ambling slowly by Buck’s side –matching his speed– and looking at clothes with him. They left the house as a family today (Buck’s never not giddy to be allowed to phrase it like this) but Eddie is taking care of the groceries to quick things up. It’s just Buck and Chris now – like trips to the zoo, and an afternoon of baking cookies. Buck feels nostalgic, but most of all, promising. There's something peaceful about each time they continue the search for Christopher’s new clothes; it’s just as much of a chance to simply be together with him. Buck –and Eddie too, he knows– will never not get tired of it; even if Chris shouted every time.

He’ll grow out of these clothes too if they’re not careful – a hundred other shopping trips for them to take, year after year, until Chris is all grown up. For all Buck knows, Christopher will be as tall as himself. He almost gets weepy thinking about it. It's the hormones. Probably.

When they’re past the jeans section and Chris steadily denies even approaching the clothes racks with sweatpants –arguing, “Aren't we done anyway?”, with a gesture of the single pair of shorts Buck convinced him to buy (small mercies)-- Buck looks at the other side across the store, continuing on from where they are. He hesitates for a moment before speaking up.

“Can we check something else really quick?”

Christopher turns to the same direction he did, looking casual for what still is something that leaves him nervous when it's with Chris.

“Sure,” Christopher shrugs.

They walk to the baby section.

There are no things left for them to buy. The dresser is full, as is most of the house, really. The big package Bobby had brought in –the one that Buck didn’t get to open, until he, Eddie and Chris were back home, and two days in he felt alive enough again to finally open up the gifts– was a playpen, for when they had a toddler instead of a newborn, almost too big for the living room. They have so many things, the talk of eventually moving –obligatory, anyway, what with a second kid– feels like the sword of damocles hanging over Buck and Eddie’s heads. Even still, Buck always feels a tug whenever he’s close to baby things.

He likes imagining them, mostly. When he was too broke for an apartment and lived out of his jeep or cheap hotels, Buck liked to go into furniture stores to imagine a dream house. The mental processes from then and now are kind of the same. He’s thinking up his future, now closer than ever. Mostly, Buck is trying to focus on the comforting part –how tiny and cute the clothes are, the fact he’s going to bring home something tiny and cute of his own– instead of the fact he’s a little off his gourd in anxiety.

“How are you feeling about the baby?” he asks Christopher, a pair of tiny shoes on the palm of his hand. It’s easier to talk through other people’s anxieties.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re pretty close. You just got home. There’s only going to be a few more weeks of silence through the night.”

“Can we buy these then?” Christopher raises a pair of ear muffs – forgotten in the baby aisle. Buck snorts. He stills picks it up from Chris’ hand to put it in the shopping basket.

“Ok. You still haven’t answered me.”

Christopher shrugs. “I dunno. It’s kinda sudden, but I know not really. I just got here late.”

“It wasn’t late,” Buck defends. “We were all just working through stuff. The important thing is that we’re all here, right?” Sure , Christopher murmurs, so Buck goes on. “And you still deserve to feel a little weird about it.” It seems like a more discreet way of asking about it  then just blurting out Are you a little weird about it?

“You and dad seem happy.”

“That’s not the only important part,” Buck argues. It makes Chris roll his eyes – but it’s good naturedly.

“I don’t hate the idea. I like little kids. Jee’s fun.” Christopher shrugs. He already knew her well enough, spending time in Buck’s old loft when he was in babysitter duty, and they’re more or less cousins now, circumstantially; the idea makes Buck’s head spin a bit (the good kind). When Chim and Maddie came to visit to greet Chris again, Jee gave his legs a big hug, telling him welcome back. “It’ll probably be fun having a Jee home too. I can teach them stuff.”

It’s a nice thought; seeing a baby in Christopher’s lap, and watching him bloom as a big brother. He’s a good kid – Buck can only hope he can raise one as well as Eddie did, but he has the reassurance of having him by his side for this part; having Chris too. The three of them, soon to be four.

Even then, Buck has to be sure of the shape Christopher wants to become.

“You’re okay being a big brother?” The word choice is intentional. They don’t really talk about it – the fact Buck and Eddie are together. It’s an awkward enough conversation –”Oh, yeah, after seven years I’ve finally kissed your father, after deciding to raise a kid together. Don’t think about the fact we’re sharing the same bedroom,”-- and only awkwarder with Christopher’s age, not really a kid but not really a teenager, still old enough to not have rose coloured glasses on. He’s watched Buck and Eddie go through a number of failed relationships. And Buck’s well aware that, for Christopher, him and Eddie got together –and decided to share a kid– out of nowhere. He only got home after the halfway-mark. Buck knows they’re dropping a lot on him.

He can’t help but feel insecure – even if he’d rather not have that be the image he shows to a fourteen year old, much less Chris. Christopher had already seen him embarrassing himself before, though.

He rolls his eyes a second time, and gives Buck a tired look – even then, the decision is earnest. “I’m okay being a big brother,” he tells Buck, a bit long-suffering as he repeats the same set of words. But there’s love on the tiredness on his face too, Buck knows. It’s the reason he reaches out a little head cap with bunny ears. “Do you want to get this? Since you’re having them in April?”

Buck buys the cap. Obviously.

–

Eddie cooks them dinner that night. It’s still fun to joke he sucks in the kitchen, even if Eddie is –more or less– serviceable, after getting so many recipes from Linda in his dispatch days. He’s gone rusty again, after getting back to firefighting –and Buck will always prefer to eat slightly charred food than not ever work with Eddie by his side again– but he won’t give Buck or Chris food poisoning. Even if they joke about it.

Eddie entertains them with a raised eyebrow, seeming more amused than offended. He still can’t help himself but look a little smug when he puts a bowl of mashed potato with gravy and a platter of cooked chicken (pre-seasoned) on the table. “I can do a good job when I put my mind to it,” he says, only slightly gloating as he sits down at the table, right across from Buck.

“So you were just not doing that before?” Chris asks him. Buck chokes a little on his sip of water.

The food is good. Buck has seen Eddie accompany Bobby into the kitchen when they’re at the station recently (the team never eats whatever he cooks, which says a lot by itself) and he has a clue about why that is. He’s been retired from helping Bobby with the station meals, at least from now; Buck can’t stay standing on his feet for too long. He feels like he’s getting a pound heavier every four days – which is a bit crazy to accompany in the mirror. He knows he’s a big guy –and Tommy is too– but he’s very much not looking forward to having a big baby. Thinking about something else it is!

It’s cute to see Eddie try to take his place in the kitchen – at work and at home. Buck can’t very well call it that to his face –cute– without embarrassing each other, but he still calls it by its name in the privacy of his head. They’re still walking a bit in circles. Beyond Christopher, no one else knows they’re together – though some people might have an idea. Buck and Eddie haven’t started acting any differently –incriminating their past well alone– but Buck knows he’s had his fair share of glancing at Eddie when he’s not looking; admiring him from afar. He and Eddie are alike enough he more or less knows Eddie also does the same.

The time just never is right to tell everyone. They work emergencies – the 118 is running around half the time, and when they’re not, Buck doesn’t feel very excited to crash that downtime. He’s getting a little tired –and embarrassed– of giving big announcements. And Buck’s not looking forward to the I-told-you-sos. He’s probably going to get them even from C-shift.

There’s something nice about having this only for themselves, and Chris – their little family. Even if it’s probably illegal, what with the department's code on relationships disclosure. Bobby will forgive them. Buck’s giving him a grandkid.

Eddie gives Chris a pointed look when, after all the quipping, he goes to get a second helping of the potatoes. Buck chuckles at the dusting of pink that appears on his ears as he tries to argue, “I’m a growing kid!” at him and Eddie both. Buck thinks it’s the best feeling in the world, habiting the same place as them.

Eddie helps Christopher ladle a new serving after the teasing; for good measure, Eddie gives Chris a bit more of the protein too. “You should get used to my food anyway,” he says – saying the quiet part out loud. “Buck won’t be able to work the kitchen forever.”

Buck feels a little bit of pink dusting of his own. If Eddie notices it –too focused in helping Chris serve himself– he hides it well.

Christopher just grumbles under his breath. “At least you didn’t poison him on your first date.”

That makes the ladle stop in Eddie’s hand. Buck’s the one that doesn’t notices it, this time.

–

He’s quiet in bed. Eddie is too – if not for the same reasons.

When Buck turns, shuffling quietly underneath the covers, it’s to see that Eddie is also awake. In the low light of the bedroom –only the little that comes from the window blinders, the street lights from outside the house– Eddie is bathed in blue. He’s already looking at Buck when he turns.

“I won’t be in the kitchen for long,” Buck goes straight to the punch – feeling a little awkward with the wording. He can’t say it the other way; that he’ll be full-term –and waiting for the baby to come– in less than a month.

“We didn’t have a first date,” Eddie says on his own. It’s –seemingly– so out of left field, Buck has to do a double take, head moving back a little on his pillow.

“You’re thinking about that?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“I mean – my thing feels a little more pressing.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little pressing we never had a date before getting a kid?” Eddie asks him in turn. And – okay. He has a point. Nonetheless, between the tone of Eddie’s voice, and the fact they’re having this conversation at all, Buck can’t help but give a tiny laugh. Eddie smiles too. “Pepa’s gonna kill me.” Buck laughs higher. “I at least got three dates with Shan before I got her pregnant.”

“ Eddie !” Buck whisper-shouts, scandalized; both still smiling. Aside from the warm feeling of getting to be the one that Eddie is comfortable enough to speak about Shannon, after everything, there’s something a bit too enticing about the idea of Eddie being the person who knocked him up. For all intents and purposes, he is. Eddie will be the one in the delivering room with Buck.

When he’s looking at him like this, Buck can’t believe it took them so long to get here. He can’t say he regrets the lost time; Buck has gone into too many research rabbit holes about the butterfly effect, and he wants Avocado too much; he wouldn’t be able to risk not having them. And he’ll have them with Eddie – they go here, in the end. Sleeping in the same bed, making space for Buck’s ridiculous pregnancy pillow and comfortable with the knowledge Christtopher is right down the hallway. Buck wouldn’t have it any other way.

Eddie raises a hand to brush through his hair, bringing it off his eyes. The touch is as adoring as his gaze. “You’re getting faster,” Buck tells him with a cracking voice, going back to the last joke to try to lighten the mood. He’s not sure if it works. The smile in Eddie’s face is all adoration too.

“I kinda want to do this slow,” he answers Buck. His face free of hair, Eddie brushes a thumb over his birthmark. “Even if we just got a month left.”

“There’s some years there too,” Buck tells him softly. And his own words help with the anxiety – at least a little bit. Eddie, still smiling at him, lets out a bright breath.

“Yeah.” He goes to pull his hand back, entirely, Buck thinks, but Eddie uses it to raise himself from the mattress instead, sitting up. He’s crawling closer to Buck before he can even properly understand it, something heavy in his gaze, but no less adoring, when he cages Buck in between his arms. “Do you want to…”

Nodding is an automatic response at his point. Buck is already digging himself off his pillow. Eddie, above him, visibly swallows back a chuckle.

“Don’t be noisy,” he tells Buck, fauxly stern. And then he lowers his head.

–

“Pour the batter evenly on the pan,” Bobby instructs, a careful eye behind Eddie’s back while he’s standing in front of the oven, “to make sure no side is heavier than the other.”

“How long do you have to wait before flipping?” Eddie asks, when he’s done exactly what Bobby has told him. This part, he never really learned even during his foodie phase with Linda – he was very careful not to make full omelets for Christopher.

The batter is crackling on the pan, a sound about as delicious as the aroma wafting up on the station’s loft. That’s all Bobby though; Eddie is manning the oven, but it wasn’t him who actually beat the eggs, or mixed the combo of vegetable and mushrooms in them. He even sprinkled a lil bit of herbs on – probably the reason for the smell. It’s a good sensory experience, and a good learning opportunity too, so Eddie can’t complain whenever Bobby looks at Eddie a bit like he’s a kid.

Bobby seems as he always does during these classes: as patient as amused. It was probably something Buck saw too when he was learning, but then, Bobby has a lot of opportunities to snort at Buck. Eddie’s feeling a little out of his usual field.

“You don’t flip,” Bobby says, patient as ever. “Not while the batter is like this. First, you’re going to have to fold it in two, like a half-moon. Or the omelet is going to break.”

That kind of makes sense. “Won’t the eggs be raw in the middle?” Eddie still asks. He’ll never live it down if he gives someone salmonella.

“That’s a common worry. But if you let the omelet cook for enough time everything’s going to be okay.” Bobby raises a finger toward the pan. “You can fold it already.”

Down time has become Eddie’s favorite part of shifts. He’s never been as gung-ho as Buck about always being on the move during work –like an anxious animal– but he likes his work, and enjoys taking part on it; being sent on heavy rescues, helping Chim and Hen in victim assessment, saving people from hurt and danger. He hasn’t liked this instead –being in the station for hours on end, no hurry to leave on the engine– since Christopher was younger, and Eddie generally worked with less energy. Now he likes every moment of quiet.

Buck’s in the bunks. That’s part of it too; Eddie likes knowing he’s resting –even if Buck isn’t leaving with them on calls anyway– and the chance to learn something for him is good too. Eddie flips the omelet without it breaking and cooks the other side until both are crispy and brown, and then he gets to serve it on a triumphant plate, feeling amused when Bobby wipes a thumb at the corner to clean off a bit of grease. He pats Eddie on the back, as proudly as he did on his first shift back, after transferring back from dispatch, and Eddie feels something proud stir up even before Buck comes up the stairs, yawning and following the smell of food like a cartoon character.

“Right on time,” Bobby tells him brightly. Buck is still looking half-asleep, but not so much his eyes don’t immediately follow to him and Eddie – and the plate freshly on the counter. “Me and Eddie prepped you an omelet. There’s veggies and mushrooms in it.”

“That’s my favorite,” Buck says, brushing his hair back from his face as he goes to sit at the counter. Crow’s feet beneath his eyes, Bobby ruffles a hand through the last strands left.

“I know.” Eddie does too. Bobby pats him on the back –giving him a private smile– before stepping away. “Now I’m going to make the rest of the station’s dinner. Enjoy.”

“Do you want help?” Eddie turns with him, but Bobby just shakes his head.

“Pay Buck company. You can drop by the stove top again when it’s time for your food.”

It’s a good enough agreement. Eddie falls on the chair beside Buck’s with a last nod to Bobby, functionally forgetting his presence when he turns to Buck. It’s a good thing he’s never been big on PDA; most of the time, Eddie forgets they’re a secret for now. He would have already kissed him in public.

Buck makes an appreciative sound at the first bite, and several others at the second and third. Munching pleasantly, he’s still a bit of an ass enough to look back at Eddie with a teasing smile, catching up to what must be a lot of waiting expectation on his face.

“You did well, Bessie.” Eddie would have prefered a dog’s name, honestly. He just feels like a farm animal.

“See if I feed you after the baby is born,” Eddie tells Buck, pointing a finger for good measure. When he takes Buck’s plate –empty– for the kitchen sink, he’s walking away from his answering laugh.

“I actually have a question about that,” Bobby starts, still working on preparing the next batch of egg batter. He looks between Buck and Eddie –as much weight given to him as the actual man carrying the baby, a hot feeling on Eddie’s face at the implication– with the easy seriousness that’s natural to Bobby. “Do you already know when you want to start parental leave?”

The question is specific to Buck, and he munches on his bottom lip, still a little bit of egg on his stubble. “Can’t I just do it when the baby comes?” It’s an especially Buck answer, and Eddie can’t say he’s particularly surprised to hear it. He can’t even complain; Buck’s not doing any hard work currently, at the very least.

“You do realize there’s a chance they’ll come in this very firehouse?” Bobby asks him back, not without some amusement. Eddie can already imagine the thematic cake Hen would do.

“Not like there’s any lack of medical personnel around,” Buck shrugs. Bobby just shakes his head, going back to the eggs. “I feel more safe here, anyway. Being alone at home would suck.”

“Eddie can also request for leave, you know.”

Both him and Buck go quiet. It’s not an accusation –Bobby has been saying the same thing long before they actually did any mutual move– but, as they say, the criminal incriminates themself.

“Uh,” Buck starts, astutely. “S-sure.”

All Bobby does is send Buck a glance, still looking amused. Eddie hurries into pulling his attention as fast as possible.

“Can I do reduced hours?” It’s a valid question; he’s been thinking of it on his own already. With the expenses they’ve been racking up, Eddie doesn’t actually want both of them to be off work. Even if it makes him kind of sad thinking of not being around the baby 24/7. He hasn’t even met them – but he knows he’ll never want to stay away.

“You can,” Bobby starts slowly, “but leave is important for more than one reason. Newborns are a lot – especially for first time parents,” he glances at Buck. “And bonding is really important during this time. Even if not from the primary parent.”

The parturient, Bobby means. It’s a pretty sensitive way to say it.

Bobby reacts kindly to the lack of any prepared answer from either of them. Shaking his head gently, he returns to his eggs, giving them the space without any hard expectation. “You should talk with each other. You can go back on your decision at any time – but it’s good to have a solid plan during the first weeks. How long until you’re full term?”

Buck winces. “Five weeks.” And – okay. Eddie winces a little too. Jesus – it’s a bit terrifying when it’s put into a solid number. 35-ish days.

“Talk with each other,” Bobby repeats – not unkindly, despite the pointedness. “And if you’re concerned about money, there's always the paramedics exam, Eddie. We have your backs either way.”

It’s a nice last comfort; but Eddie can’t help but look at Buck, anxious on his own –even after the, admittedly, nice idea– feeling a little bit more at the uncertain way Buck puts a hand on his belly. It's so noticeably bigger, it almost seems out of this world to think only six months ago Eddie was still working through the desire to walk into a house fire and not come back.

He puts the plate to dry on he rack and walks back to Buck, an automatic arm reaching out to wrap around his shoulders.

“Do you want tea?” It’s something to occupy Eddie’s hands – and distract Buck’s mind. It doesn’t seem like it will work. Buck just shakes his head, worrying at his bottom lip. Eddie doesn’t move the arm.

–

Christopher had two therapists throughout his life; the youth grief counselor Eddie took him to right after Shannon’s death, and then the trauma specialist he found after the tsunami, during the worst of Christopher’s nightmares. It was the same child psychologist Chris kept seeing years after –always a new thing to add, the shooting, Eddie’s breakdown, then the lightning strike– but Doctor Lin moved cities a little after Christopher left for Texas. Now that he’s back, Eddie had to go back to the search again. He’s always grateful for Carla’s existence, even if she doesn’t really work for him anymore; she was the one that got Chris the new referral.

The change might have been for the best. This psychologist does family therapy, and works more with teenagers – different from Doctor Lin, who Christopher was already growing out of. It’s always parents waiting outside the new therapy office when Eddie is waiting for Chris to come out. He’s spoken with Doctor Daniels a few times, even if they hadn’t got to the point where she’s asked Eddie to come in on a session, and she seems like a nice person, beside a good professional. With four sessions in his pocket (two a week, at least for now) Chris seems a little more light every time one of them is over.

“Hey,” Eddie gets up from the couch in the waiting room to meet him when he comes out of the office, his therapist in tow. Doctor Daniels gives Eddie a polite smile before moving away to greet her next patient, and, right beside Chris, Eddie matches it. When he looks back, Christopher is still quiet – but he nods at Eddie.

A little introspection post-session is not unheard of; Eddie has had a good deal of his own. These days, he’s got Frank to meet him every 14 days –easier on the insurance– and he still likes to drive home alone, thinking about whatever they’ve discussed. Eddie gives Chris the same space to be quiet in the Denali’s passenger seat, driving back home in silence, but Eddie doesn’t actually expect him to speak up.

“Dad. Were you angry when I went to Texas?”

It’s a little out of left field; or maybe not really. Eddie and Chris haven’t discussed everything yet, although they’ve gone through a good deal, even only on the trip back from Texas. The topic doesn’t come back as often after coming home though. The importance of speaking about it is probably something Chris is hearing in therapy however, and Eddie can’t say he disagrees. They did make a promise to be immediately more truthful with each other.

“No,” Eddie says easily. He wasn’t angry at Chris, and not even at his parents; the anger with them, and the betrayal, only came much later. In the start, Eddie was at most angry with himself. He felt despairing; hopeless. Everything was turned inward, a sour guilt thick enough to choke. The only thing he felt about Chris was impossibly sorry for having been the one to lead him away.

Eddie’s answer doesn’t seem to surprise Christopher, which might be the most unexpected thing about it. Eddie still isn’t sure what he’s working up to –clearly thinking through something in his head– and he keeps an eye on Chris and another on the road as he drives, feeling strangely anxious about wherever this conversation is going, a tougher direction than the way back home.

“Were you…sad?”

It’s a very uncertain choice of word; more childish –or soft– than Christopher’s fourteen years would usually give. Eddie understands the implication (another word to call someone sad) with a squeeze of his chest.

“Were you?” he immediately turns the question around – genuinely worried. 800 miles from home, that was always a concern: he didn’t know how Christopher was feeling, or dealing with it. What Eddie remembered of his own time with his parents didn’t promise much. But Christopher, when he looks at him, has a tight face; it’s not a denial, as much as it scares Eddie. But he knows this isn’t where Chris wanted the conversation to go.

“A little bit. I was really angry. It made me feel– bad inside.” Chris gestures uselessly towards his chest, curling his hand like a smashed tin can. Eddie’s own heart squeezes like that. “I was hurt. I didn’t really want to leave my room.”

Eddie knows the feeling. It’s part of the reason he looks so hopelessly at his son.

“I’m not like that anymore,” Chris adds, like an afterthought, after seeing the expression on Eddie’s face. It’s not really a serviceable reassurance. Eddie wishes they weren’t having this talk on top of a busy viaduct.

“Christopher–” An asshole horns when Eddie’s driving slows down, and he has to force himself to pull his eyes back to the road. “I didn’t know. Jesus– your grandparents–”

“I didn’t talk to them about it.” There has to be a good sign that he is telling it to Eddie now, unlike with his grandparents, but that doesn’t quite silence Eddie’s worry either. “They were weird about you. I didn’t like mentioning it.”

Eddie makes a low noise in the back of his throat. He’s not as hurt about being dragged through the coals as the fact Christopher had witnessed that.

“Were you sad?” Chris asks again, too pointed now to turn the subject back around and return to the new fleas eating at Eddie’s head. That conversation wasn’t over –even if Eddie had to trust Doctor Daniels would actually contact him if Christopher was still showing any active sign of depression– but Eddie couldn’t deny Christopher the fact he really seemed to be thinking a lot about this question. It’s why he answers, dragging a rattled hand through his hair.

“Yes, of course. You’re my son– it broke me up,” broke Eddie, really, “that I made you run away.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Chris adds before Eddie can do exactly that. Chris has heard that word a lot already.

Eddie has to swallow down the apology, as easy as breathing at this point –genuine every time– though, despite Christopher’s brief flash of humor, it is heavy and bitter as it goes back Eddie's throat. The taste doesn’t leave him. “Of course I was sad,” he repeats himself, easily. It turns out, Eddie isn’t brave enough either to actually say the proper word.

“...can’t-leave-the-room sad?” Chris eventually asks, voice tiny against the muffled sounds of the road. When Eddie doesn’t answer, biting tightly at his lower lip, he urges, not without urgency, “Dad?”

Eddie sighs, turning on the blinkers to leave the highway. “Yeah,” he croaks. It’s a half-answer, easy to hear in his own voice. Christopher also does.

There’s nothing comfortable about the silence that sets over them – distant, almost, despite the fact they’re sitting side by side. There’s no animosity, but a discomfort –cowering– not so different from what Buck must have felt in the immediate morning after Christopher’s departure. The worry was the same.

Eddie isn’t as nervous as to not be able to glance to the side, even in the middle of driving, more distressed about not being able to know any of Christopher’s reactions than learning them, but it seems neither one of them actually knows what to speak. There’s no danger now –not the way Eddie knew Buck had been scared of– but maybe the suggestion of it, months past, is enough. When Eddie looks at Chris, his jaw is tight, eyes turned to the road ahead. It’s not anger in his face. It takes a while for Eddie to recognize it –just as familiar– but the look is one of guilt.

“I was already not doing very well,” Eddie is quick to assuage, for all the little that it may mean; said too hurriedly and uncomfortably, already a hard thing to admit to everyone else beyond his teenage son. Eddie had thought he was pretty alright back then – but obviously, not very much. He keeps the self-disparaging quip back, expecting well enough that’s probably not the look Chris wants to see right now. It’s not the one Eddie wants to show either. “That hadn’t anything to do with you.”

“Dad,” Chris protests. And – they promised.

Eddie never wants to see Christopher tear up; he especially doesn't want to see it like now, eyes finally turning back to Eddie just to show how deep the fear goes. Christopher isn’t small anymore – he didn’t know what was happening when Eddie started to break down his own room years ago, just knew something was wrong, but now he’s sufficiently old to understand some implications. That breakdown is distant enough that Eddie hopes he’ll never think about it, but there’s nothing distant about eight months ago; Eddie thought about Christopher leaving for every day after, sometimes even now that he’s back. It’s not a surprise that Chris would also think about it – that he would wonder. That he would dread.

This had never been a discussion; if Eddie would keep that part under wraps, how bad things had got, if for a little while. Buck –the primary witness– didn’t mention it and Eddie can’t say he’s ever had the wish to either. It’s not like he wanted to keep secrets from Christopher –that was how they got into this whole mess– but it’s a less straightforward problem when Eddie knows it would only make him worry; feel guilty. It’s exactly how Chris looks right now. Eddie wants to be truthful in so far as he gets to protect his son. Sometimes those things are mutually exclusive. Sometimes, Eddie doesn’t have a choice anyway.

They’re on less busy roads, and, using the last steadiness in his brain, Eddie makes the executive decision to pull up. The car whines as it slows down beside the curb and Eddie bites back a similar sound, feeling his heart run like it had weeks ago during the baby shower. If he’d been scared of a fallout then, he’s scared of another one now, already on the horizon with the way Christopher keeps looking at him – younger than he’d seemed in months. Eddie turns back to him because, despite everything, he’ll always protect his kid. Truth can also be a shape that protection takes.

“I went a little dark when you left,” Eddie starts when the car has stopped and he can’t just keep squeezing at the wheel. It takes everything from him to turn from the windshield and look Christopher in the eyes – see him react to that. “That wasn’ your fault – that would never be your fault. I always– I try not to show, but you have to know I always had trouble, Chris, sometimes. I was already in a bad place. You did nothing to me that already wasn’t going to happen.”

“But it did happen because of me,” Chris croaks. Like this, his voice is like when he was seven years old – so tiny and fragile, Eddie wants to hold him like a teacup. “I really was the last strike.”

“No,” Eddie presses, immediately so. He reaches out to hold Christopher by the shoulders, until they’re boxed with each other, nowhere else to look, no other truth to see. “Never. Never . Do you hear me?” Christopher’s eyes glaze and Eddie cups the back of his head, fingers on the curly hair Shannon gave him. “You could never be a strike. You’re the best that’s ever happened to me. Always . No matter the day.”

“ I’m sorry .” Eddie shushes him at the first hiccup, bringing him close; a head that reaches his shoulder, but still fits right at home in the crook of Eddie’s neck. He holds Chris against his chest with tight arms, squeezing him like he’d done in Shannon’s funeral and the nights after the tsunami, as Eddie breathes through his own breaks, like he did, like he’ll continue to do, as long as he has Christopher by his side.

“You never have to be. Never,” Eddie croaks. “I’m the one who’s sorry, baby.”

Maybe that’s how Eddie will never understand his parents. Through everything that has happened –disasters and tragedies and breakdowns and backslides– there was never a thing that Eddie was able to hold against Christopher. There was never a thing that he wouldn’t have wanted to go through with Chris, until he could see him, safe and happy, on the other side. That’s what always mattered. What –tucking Christopher close, and whispering against his ear, thankful even now to have him here– will always do.

“I’m so glad you’re home. So glad, Chris.” Eddie shakes his head against Christopher’s. “That's all that matters. That’s all that matters, mijo.” Close in arms, and enough to walk back together – that’s all that matters.

In a few minutes, Eddie will turn on the motor again; drive to his and Christopher's home and return to the same warm bubble their afternoons had begun to exist in. Buck will smile at them on arrival, ruffle Christopher’s head of curls in enough companionship for Chris to forget whatever trouble therapy left him with, and give Eddie a kiss for having brought Christopher back – from the psychologist’s office and from Texas both. Eddie will have bought take-out, so no one has to cook. They’ll sit around the table and eat, and everything will be in its right place. It was all worth it. For this, it will always continue to be.

For now, the inside of the car just keeps like this: Eddie holding Chris, crying softly beside his son as he brushes a gentle hand through his back, and finally breathes.

–

Friday night Buck and Eddie visit Maddie and Chimney’s place for dinner, a tray of snickerdoodles from Buck in the crook of one of Eddie’s arms and a casserole from his own hand in the other. Buck feels like a proud husband every time he looks at it; double the amount, when everyone starts actually eating the casserole (great spices; only a little bit burned at the top). The fourth time Buck boasts about it –”He took the whole afternoon!”-- Chim teases, “Okay, Buckaroo, your man’s great.”

Which – brings him back to the matter at hand.

Buck exchanges a small glance with Eddie, unseen while Chim and Maddie continue to eat their dinner with humorous smiles to each other. Inside Buck, the feeling of mirth and pride gives way to the same nervousness that he had been chased by when he was planning this dinner with Maddie, and thinking of why. He can’t hide from the actual reason he did it – even if it is a good casserole. Or that, beneath the table, his hands have begun to fidget.

Eddie reaches out one of his own to hold them, out of view from the other two people at the table. He squeezes. Without looking at him, Buck clears his throat.

There’s only adults here. That was part of the reason for dinner: an excuse to meet together again, since both Buck and Eddie are more or less completely booked with having the house –and their days– re-settled for Christopher again. It’s not something that’s only happening with them; Chris had barely any time to see his old friends in LA either, and he’d mentioned the same complaint to them.

That’s what he’s doing tonight – having a sleepover at Hen and Karen’s place so he’s able to hang out with Denny, the first time in both months and the last weeks since his return. Buck doesn’t know how everything has been between them after the text in the baby shower –Denny’s accidental reveal– but he hopes they’ll have a good time; and that it helps assude whatever leftover guilt Denny still has. They’re both good kids.

Without either Chris or Jee –Chim left her with the Lees tonight, to finish the circle of a child-free dinner– it means Buck really has no excuse to keep delaying this conversation. As always, whenever he has news to tell, he always wants to start with Maddie.

“There’s, uh, s-something we want to talk about, actually.” Nervousness bites and trails across the expense of Buck’s skin like a colony of ants, but Eddie squeezes their hands together a second time, enough to hold back on the urge to itch. Swallowing roughly –enough his throat clicks– Buck powers on; Maddie and Chim are already looking at him. “Me and Eddie.”

Both Maddie and Chim stop eating, she half-way through chewing. The swiftness would have been more comical, weren’t Buck feeling like he was in front of a firing squad instead – even if, rationally, he understands his head is just being dramatic. Buck doesn’t know what it says about him and Eddie though, that it takes mere seconds for something like shocked realization to take Chim and Maddie’s faces after glancing between both of them. Buck and Eddie aren’t even holding their hands over the table.

“No way.” Chim gapes at them in bewilderment. There’s always a chance he’s misreading this, imagining another thing, but Buck supposes there’s not many other possible news to assume. It’s not like Buck can get pregnant a second time. “I knew it!”

“How did you know it if you just said ‘no way’ a second ago,” Eddie deadpans – but he’s smiling. There’s something quietly satisfied in his face at the way Chim is glowing at them from the other side of the table.

“No way I thought you dum-dums would figure it out!” Chimney gets out of his chair and crosses around the table, reaching between Buck and Eddie in no time to hug them both tightly. “Oh my god. I can’t believe this. You guys got it! Wait – did you guys get it?”

“Yeah,” Buck chuckles. He reaches an arm out to awkwardly pat Chim on the back, and exchanges a happy look with him. “We got it. We figured it out.”

Maddie still looks shell-shocked across the other side of the table. When Buck glances at her next –still smothered inside of Chim’s hug– she finally wakes up. Buck is almost scared she’ll choke. Instead, Maddie swallows her food right at once, face turning into the same surprised delight that it’s on Chim’s.

“Buck!” she exclaims. Buck chuckles again – Chim, playfully, shakes him a bit, sharing the disbelief in his wife’s voice as he makes a loud and excited Gah! sound. Under his hands, Buck’s laugh doesn't have the chance to dry up. “When did this happen?”

“A while ago, actually.” Buck shrugs with what he hopes is aloofness at the expression on both their faces; his own, of course, hasn’t stopped being pink. “It never seemed like the right time.”

“Wait – are we the first people you’re telling?” Chim’s eyes boggle out of their sockets. “Oh my god – do you want me to keep this secret from Cap?”

The desperation in Chimney’s voice gets Eddie to chuckle next. Buck can almost imagine he’d like to sell the lie a little bit, just to tease Chim – but Buck is still feeling too light for that, surrounded by people that love him and Eddie so much. “No,” he rolls his eyes playfully, chest warm. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. We’re inviting him and ‘Thena to have dinner in our place.”

At the other side of the table, Maddie’s face softens. Still by Buck and Eddie’s side –still grinning– Chim shakes them again

“That’s way too obvious!”

“It’s not like we can go to theirs,” Eddie raises an eyebrow. “It’s a hotel room.” At least for now, while the construction on their new house is still finishing up. “Bobby doesn’t even get to cook there.”

“He’s gonna make you two a damn wedding cake when he learns.” Chim shakes his head, cheerful crow’s feet beneath both his eyes. Finally letting Buck and Eddie go, he watches them for a moment, something like an almost unbelieving expression on his face. The happiness that remains in it makes Buck’s cheek warm. “Who woulda thought.”

“The baby helped,” Eddie tries to joke. It’s still too honest; when Buck glances at him –sees the starry look on Eddie’s eyes, turned only to Buck, and his baby bump– he knows that it’s basically the whole truth. Buck feels his own eyes crinkle up. He rests a hand on the top of his belly.

“They do that sometimes,” Chim tells Eddie companionably. He finally backs up, giving space for Maddie to step beside Buck and Eddie’s chairs, and Buck gets up to hug her on his feet.

He rests his chin on top of Maddie’s head, still feeling like the little boy his sister raised. He glows from the inside out at the loving way she holds him the same. They have to hug at an angle with their bellies, but side by side, Buck likes to think it’s like the babies are hugging too. He squeezes Maddie closer.

“I’m so glad for you.” When she steps back, she glances at Eddie next –still sat down– with the same joy on her face. “Both of you. I know that road can be a long one.”

Eddie’s cheeks pinken. Though he tries to give her a loose shrug, his answer confesses too much again. “It was worth it.”

Buck looks at him, and when Eddie meets his gaze, feels the smile marks at his cheeks broaden.

Yeah – Buck thinks it was worth it too.

Dinner progresses between extensive teasing and sappy conversations, Chim’s and Maddie’s respectively, and Buck continues living on the same happy cloud. He feels a bit like a teenager, suddenly too flustered to hold Eddie’s hand in public, even if there’s no point in keeping hiding it underneath the table. He can’t stop smiling anyway. There’s a flutter in his stomach that is undeniably from embarrassment, but even that is enjoyable too when Buck knows he’s getting the full family experience. He can’t wait to also sit with Eddie in front of Bobby and Athena, Hen and Karen, Eddie’s tía and abuela. He can’t wait to always occupy the place beside Eddie on a table.

After dinner is done, Maddie asks Buck to help her bring the dishes into the kitchen – a pretty obvious excuse when they’re the resident invalids right now, and the room, if it can be called something separate, isn’t even 6 feet away from the dining table. He goes and they start washing the dishes together anyway; hook, line and sinker. Even well aware, Buck can’t say he minds.

With no partition between the kitchen and dining room, where Chim and Eddie keep talking, Buck can hear Chimney’s continuing teasing. It’s a soft end to the night – close-by voices and the sound of the kitchen sink running, the plates clacking together as Maddie and Buck exchange hands, taking turns washing and drying, the way they did when Buck was a kid. There was a time he didn’t know he’d ever see his sister again; more than one, really – unanswered postcards, blood over snow and Maddie running away in a hurry, explaining nothing but asking him to keep everything a secret. Now, he’s washing dishes with her, and they’ll be giving each other nieces.

It’s easy to have a private conversation with her even out in the open. Chimney talks loud; between him remembering Eddie every tiny moment he and Buck acted too close, like it’s a rerun, and Eddie half-heartedly trying to defend himself, just joining in on the fun, Maddie and Buck practically live in their own bubble. It’s inside of it that Maddie catches his eyes, something unbearably soft in her face.

“What?” Buck asks, only as low as to not be heard by everyone else. He splatters some water towards Maddie when she stays quiet, and with the same look. “ Boo ! Weirdo.”

Maddie snickers at him, short before the expression comes back. It’s no time at all before she’s looking at Buck in the same way, something close to pride in her eyes.

“You know – I did think something was different. During the party,” Maddie explains, when Buck just raises an eyebrow. “You and Eddie seemed closer. However that was physically possible.”

“ Hey ,” Buck protests – but it’s halfhearted. He’s matching the same lightness on Maddie's face.

“You found your place. For a little while, actually,” Maddie teases; just a bit. “But I’m glad you realized it. Really glad. You look good. You look happy.”

Buck shrugs, incapable of not feeling at least a bit shy. “I’ve been good.” Tea in the morning and night, someone to accompany Buck to the doctor and to let himself be lorded over while he reads through the instructions on the back of furniture boxes, because Eddie doesn’t want him picking up weight right now. Buck is glad for how little has changed between the two of them; not only it tells him how happy these last months managed to be –despite everything, a Christopher-shaped absence then a Texas-shaped distress– but he’s reassured the next ones will be that way too. Better yet, when the house is going to be full. All of Buck and Eddie’s kids will be at home.

“Before –during dinner– you said ‘our place’,” Maddie continues. “Your and Eddie’s.” She’s not teasing – still looking just as happy for Buck, even if he probably deserved some ribbing for being a bit slow on the uptake. Chim will take care of that one, Buck supposes – hiding another shy smile.

Maddie is right that Buck had already found his place, although this might have been the first time that he actually called it by its name. His and Eddie’s place; his and Eddie’s house; his and Eddie’s home. With a sense of peace, Buck realizes that, despite it being the first, it won’t be the last time he’ll call it that.

The next smile on Buck’s face isn’t as shy. With the enormity of the happiness in his chest, it’s hard to be. “Yeah,” Buck tells Maddie – face lined with brightness. “I guess I did.”

–

Bobby isn’t surprised when they tell him and Athena the same news the next day, pizza boxes as their witnesses (the shift had run over). Maybe that should rankle, but Bobby looks so damn pleased –proud, like Maddie had, during the night before– Buck can’t really complain. Bobby tells both him and Eddie that he’s proud of them, and aside from patting Christopher in the back almost conspiratorially –like Buck and Eddie really were the least surprising conclusion in the world– he catches each in a big, warm hug. There’s no teasing in it – just the same happiness and pride that Buck had seen in his face. He hugs Bobby for a little longer this time.

For all that Athena isn’t necessarily as close to Buck as Bobby is, she still looks just as pleased at the news. She’s surprisingly gentle with how she embraces Buck when he goes to hug her next –no less close for it– and despite the height difference, she cups and squeezes the back of his head, like Buck imagines a mom would. Athena has a fantastic capacity to appear taller than she really is by tenacity alone, but right now, it doesn’t happen to the detriment of Buck’s perceived height. He doesn’t feel small being hugged like a kid – just cradled close.

“Be good to each other,” she tells Buck – but stepping away and looking at Eddie next, the words are meant for both of them; a mutual instruction.

“I’ll make sure to,” Eddie promises, before glancing at Buck. With a messy strand of hair fallen over his face and a six o’clock shadow –they didn’t really have the time to decompress after work yet– his crinkled eyes finish making Eddie the most handsome man Buck has ever seen.

It’s a very easy promise to make.

The others learn about the two of them throughout the rest of the week, easy news to travel around the station when it’s so full of gossips. Buck almost feels bad for Hen having been one of the last to hear –from their group at least– but he supposes he pays for it well when she nuggies him then Eddie for that slight.

She learns it during work, alongside Ravi – A shift’s new fixture, since Buck isn’t involved in rescues anymore. He’s gone a long way from the probie that Buck had met –and, admittedly, terrorized a little bit– as a firefighter and an acquaintance both, and telling him the news doesn't carry the same sense of abashness that letting Buck’s other, older coworkers know does. He wasn’t here to see Eddie’s first shift in the station, and the ensuing years they danced around each other. He just got the back half. Three years, but – who’s counting.

“I thought you were already together at first,” Ravi says, which ends the goodwill a little bit. With everyone sitting at the station’s table for lunch, the entire team’s amused laughs pinch at Buck’s cheeks. Even Eddie chuckles a little bit.

“Come on .”

“You were always talking about Christopher together,” Ravi explains – not seeming to carry much embarrassment about the mistake. “It got confusing. When you started mentioning girlfriends I assumed you were divorced.”

“Need to be married for that,” Chim quips. “Got that ring already, Eddie?”

Eddie is still sufficiently amused to only shake his head with an unimpressed smile at Chimney – ignoring the blush over his face. “Aren’t you the last possible person I need to hear that from?”

“I’ll have you know I’m the first, actually. Happily married as of last year. Me and Maddie have gone decent in the eyes of the law. No more life of sin for me. Speed up, Romeo.”

“Eh, I dunno, I think three weeks is too soon to marry,” Bucks jokes, mostly to disperse the pitter-patter of his heart. Eddie, across the other side of the table, doesn’t look any better, cheeks pink for all he was initially quipping back with Chim. Nonetheless, because Buck still is his best friend, first of foremost, he teases, “Besides – Eddie didn’t even take me out on a date yet.”

“ What?! ”

–

For all Eddie is employed alongside with competent, accomplished adult professionals, work starts to feel like recess at high school: a dozen unsolicited talks –and advice– about his relationship with Buck. Dating, especially.

“You still didn't take him out once ?”

“It’s not like we had time.” Travelling to Texas, coming home and then helping Christopher settle back; the past weeks had been busy enough by on their own. Buck and Eddie are lucky if they still have enough energy to makeout before going to bed. Not that Eddie is going to tell Hen about that. “Gauze,” he holds out the bundle of unopened packages to her.

Hen takes them without looking, the same expression of judgement on her face. It’s not that Eddie doesn’t feel bad for the lack of any dates – but it’s hard to take the argument seriously when it comes in the form of overbearing friends. “I thought you were more chivalrous, Eddie.”

“I’m–

“--super chivalrous,” he rehashes the same talk with Chimney. It figures that Hen and him –joined at the hip– would say the same thing; that, or she imparted him with the same argument. Kinda hard to talk about it on the rig though, when their headphones are already faulty enough, and today’s driver –Richards– keeps looking back at them from the front seat.

“The proof is currently lacking. And here I thought you wined and dined them.

“Buck can’t even have wine,” Eddie argues. “I– whatever. How come you people are only speaking with me about this?” He looks between Chim and Hen. “It’s not like he asked me out either.”

“It’s Buck!” Chim throws his hands into the air. “The guy’s hopeless. He took his death-doula girlfriend out to play billiards. You don’t want him planning your night.”

“I love billiards.”

“Match made in heaven,” Chim throws his thumb over his shoulder towards Eddie. From the engine’s front seats, Eddie hears Bobby fail to swallow back a laugh.

He sighs long-sufferingly, though Hen just ignores to follow from where Chim left off. “Give Buck a little more credit – remember the hot air balloon?”

“Ok, now I don’t like that,” Eddie stops her. “Those things are a death trap. Remember that call, years ago?”

“Yeah,” Chim agrees. “Knowing Buck and Eddie’s luck they’ll have the baby up in the air. Scratch hot air balloons – and billiards.”

“You plannin’ my date for me now?”

“Someone has to.” Chim crosses his arms, turning up his nose at Eddie. He can only sigh. “Hen – let's join heads. Eddie, what’s your and Buck’s favorite type of restaurant?”

Eddie groans.

It’s hard to escape Hen and Chim when they’re on duty together for twelve hour shifts, and practically ingrained in each other’s lifes as it is. Eddie almost prefers the awkward well wishes from the other people in the team: Richards’ attempt at imparting his knowledge from the time his wife was pregnant isn’t 1:1 with Buck’s experience, but it ends when Eddie gets out of the rig. Hen and Chim kept spit-balling datings ideas even while they’re canvassing a scene. Eddie prefers when he’s sent with Ravi – at least he doesn’t try to backseat his relationship.

It doesn’t help that the one person that Eddie usually complains to about these things is Buck – and, well. He is planning to take him out on a date. Eddie doesn’t want Buck to think he’s only doing it because Hen and Chim nagged him so much about it. Eddie has had plans in the backburner from the second he realized that he and Buck were real. It’s just hard to think of a good idea.

Beside their busy schedule, Buck can’t drink, and most physical exertions are off the table, so they can’t even go bowling. He’s not 100% comfortable leaving the house either, though Eddie isn’t sure if that’s because he’s embarrassed or just physically uncomfortable – both truths when Shannon was in the third semester. Buck doesn’t tend to complain when it really matters –it’s easier to be annoying when there’s nothing big at play– and Eddie really is inclined to think it really is both of those things. It feels fake to plan a big thing if it’s only going to be a pain for Buck.

He’s still not taking suggestions.

“Ever thought of taking him to a place like this?” Chim asks him on a Wednesday, gesturing to the public park they’ve been called to. It’s a hard sell when one of the trees fell on top of a visitor though.

“I think I’ll pass,” Eddie deadpans. Turning back to the victim, he covers him with a blanket as best as he can from across his cage of branches, before starting with the saw. “Just a moment, sir. Careful with the splinters.”

Underneath the cover, there’s not that big a chance for him to be injured again, but the guy is smart enough to close his eyes. He only ever speaks when Eddie takes breaks to look for the better entrance point to saw off.

“I feel so stupid.”

“You shouldn’t,” Bobby comforts the man from the side. “You’d be surprised with how many trees fall at this time of the year.”

“I thought the Saint Anas were already over?”

“But summer is starting. When the season dry ups some old trees take it hard. This one was probably in its last days already. The park staff must have overlooked it.” At the most back half of the grounds, distant from most visitors –and the noise– Eddie wouldn’t be surprised about it.

The victim chuckles abashedly at Bobby’s words. “Can you share that class to my kids? I’m never going to hear the end of it from them about this happening to me.”

This far into the park, there’s not a lot of onlookers; any crowd –if it can be called that– is composed of the few workers that called 911 and the people who were already accompanying the victim. They –a boy younger than Christopher and two little girls, twins if Eddie had to guess– are to the far west side of the scene, right alongside with the station’s ambulance; waiting for the victim. They’re being assessed by Hen only as an excuse to take a breather from the scare of watching a tree swallow up their dad. The girls, at least, aren’t crying. Hen is talking to them – too soft to be heard at a distance.

“They yours?” Eddie asks the man, hoping to keep him distracted. The noise from the saw is always a bit nerve wracking.

“Wednesday and Saturdays. Their mother is going to have a blast when she hears about this.”

“Bad relationship?”

“Nah – just one that didn’t work. Not going to save me from teasing though.”

“I bet,” Eddie smiles. He rips one of the larger branches, already hanging down by only a thread of bark, and opens up space enough for Chim to move in and take vitals. Crouching by the victims head, keeping close, Eddie continues the chit-chat. “‘s good to hear. Amicable divorces are best for kids.”

“You have one?”

“Just the kids,” Eddie answers, still smiling. “One of my sisters is divorced though. I used to hear a lot of complaining in the family’s group chat.”

That gets an out of breath chuckle from the man. Beside him, but out of view, Chim gives Eddie a discreet thumbs-up. He’s stable.

“How old are yours?”

“Fourteen and eight months,” Eddie answers. A little awkwardly, he has to add, “Of pregnancy. Youngest one still hasn’t arrived home.”

“Big age gap.”

“Different relationships. The new baby is with my current partner; but he’s been helping me with my first son for a long time already.”

“You wanted to wait before trying for a new one?”

Eddie bites back a smile. “Well – it was a little unplanned,” he surmises. Getting the go ahead from Chim, Eddie lays the backboard beside their tree-man. “Ready to see yours again?”

“Since the tree fell on top of me.”

The kids are happy to see their father. They can’t touch too much –there’s some bits of bark embedded on the victim’s skin that they’ll have to wait for removal in the hospital– but he’s glad to have his children in his eyesight again. The little girls immediately run to their father with tiny ‘ daddy-daddy ’s that hit Eddie right on the solar plexus, and even his son’s more serious admonishing still makes the man laugh, telling him that it’s calmer to take their dog to the park. It’s a happy ending.

Eddie’s in too good a mood at the end of the call to really care about Chim and Hen’s faces; good-naturedly teasing after the way Eddie spoke about Buck, Chris and the baby – his partner and their kids. He doesn’t defend himself; it hadn’t been a lie anyway.

–

Buck officially starts his leave when he’s 36 weeks along.

He’s looking through a box of supplies –one Chimney hadn’t even let him get out of its shelf, scrambling to reach for it (despite the height) before Buck could– when it happens. It's embarrassing more than anything, since five minutes ago Buck had been arguing with Chim that carrying a box of cleaning stuff wasn’t physical exertion. Now, he’s pretty sure he just had a contraction.

“Uh oh.”

Chimney and Hen stop organizing the ambulance’s stock at the first sound, turning their heads alongside half the station’s workforce.

“What’s ‘uh oh’?” Chim asks. For all he’d been a worrywart for the last weeks, telling Buck every which way you could induce labor by accident (physical exertion included), now he doesn’t have an ounce of preparation, apparently. When Buck doesn’t answer –a bit embarrassed– Chim deadpans, “You’re shitting me.”

“Felt a bit like a contraction,” Buck confesses, abashed. While Chim starts looking like he’s the one that will go into labor, Hen raises her head, and her voice.

“Cap!”

One of the nearby probies scrambles away after Eddie when Hen asks them for it. Though half the ambulance’s equipment is spread out on a table, she ignores everything entirely, more interested in walking towards Buck, just carrying a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff from the spread. With the efficiency of a ER doctor, Hen immediately starts assessing him.

“You felt one before?”

“No – this is the first time.” Buck looks in the direction of the bathrooms – where Eddie had gone to take a shower, after spending some time in the station’s gym. For all he isn’t alone right now –there’s half a firehouse with their eyes bugged out at him– Buck feels more anxious for every second Eddie doesn’t appear out if thin air. “I’m too early,” his voice minutely cracks.

“Let’s not rush ourselves,” Hen reassures. She hears his stomach and then fixes the cuff to one of his arms. In no time at all, Buck hears Bobby run down the station’s loft.

“What’s going on?”

“Buck felt a contraction,” Chimney answers for them, not a reassurance with the look of stress on his face. “I’m starting up the ambulance.”

“Births take hours, Chim,” Hen stops him, still inflating the cuff. When the pressure starts to count, her face grows considering – no less serious for it. “And we aren’t sure yet if this one's starting now.”

“You don’t think it is?”

“Both heartbeats are normal – anxiety from you aside. Blood pressure seems baseline too. I think this is Braxton Hicks.”

“Buck?!”

The rest of the firehouse might as well disappear; when Buck turns in the direction of Eddie’s voice, watching him follow out of the showers still with wet hair, the probie following after him, Buck lets out something between an exhale and a gasp.

“Eddie,” he croaks. Eddie takes no time at all to reach him.

“What’s going on?” He puts his hand on Buck’s lower back, as if supporting a weight. For all that Hen doesn't seem that stressed, at least not right now, Eddie looks rattled in a way Buck has only ever briefly seen, glancing between the two of them – eyes big, whenever they turn to Buck.

“Buck experienced Braxton Hicks,” Hen says. She seems sure – Buck doesn’t feel all that much.

“Fake labor?” Eddie asks. The hand on Buck’s back clenches.

“Felt pretty real to me,” Buck says. Hen’s gaze turns soft.

“It feels the same; you’re not wrong on that. Your body is getting things ready – just ahead of time. The way you know if the contractions are the real deal is if they’re spaced together.”

“So we wait?” That doesn’t seem very reassuring to Buck. To Eddie, still latched by his side, it doesn’t either.

“Yes.” Hen takes off the arm cuff and folds the stetoscope’s cord. But her expression is still a soft, patient one. “I’m fairly sure it’s just going to be Braxtons. You’re right that it’s still too early.”

The reassurance is double edged – even if Hen is right, and this is only a false alarm. Your body is getting things ready echoes in Buck’s ears, loud with the opening curtain to fear he just felt; when he turns from Eddie –wide-eyed and just as fearful– to Bobby, Buck already knows what he is going to say.

Bobby sighs, something deep and long. “I think it’s time, kid.”

It was Braxton Hicks; hours later, Buck didn’t feel anything like it again, and when he went back to his Ob-gyn –just to be sure– they confirmed it. Buck didn’t stop feeling flighty for hours though, and maybe it was for the fact he was still like that when Bobby called him into his office to talk, that Buck didn’t think to complain about starting his leave. He’d complained at Chimney for not letting him reach out for that box, but it something simple like that had been the cause for an early labor, Buck doesn’t think he’d ever forgive himself.

He didn’t take his hand from his belly even for a second during the talk in Bobby’s office. Eddie accompanied him inside –Buck’s partner and emergency contact to boot– and he didn’t look any better. It was professionalism that kept his hands to himself, this time – though his body kept turned Buck’s way through the entire conversation.

“If you’re far along enough to have Braxton Hicks I don’t feel that it is still a good idea to keep working in the station – even if you’re careful.”

“I know,” Buck admits in a low voice. Beside him, Eddie inches his thigh closer. Bobby’s eyes soften at Buck.

“This isn’t punishment. You’re not being sent home because you’re not useful at work anymore – you’re being sent home because yours and your baby’s health are more important. Anytime you feel bad, I want you to remember that; okay?”

“Okay,” Buck agrees, still feeling worried and small. Hand running circles over the top of his bump –the baby is still so small; how healthy would they be arriving four weeks early?-- Buck clears his throat, before asking Bobby, “C-can I still come tomorrow? Not to work – just to be around your guys.” Just in case , Buck thinks. Bobby seems to hear it anyway.

“Of course.” He attempts to give Buck a smile – any reassurance doesn’t seem able to work right now, but there’s still a warm feeling to be had at the amount of love in Bobby’s eyes. “We can make you a goodbye party.”

It’s an easy attempt to recognize, of making this something joyful instead of stressful, or sad. Buck doesn’t want to break the illusion, and he doesn’t; this, anyway, still feels warmer too. He meets Bobby eyes and, clearing his throat before, agrees. “Okay.”

There’s not much planning able to be done with such a last minute party. Hen might have had a good time working it out, had it come with an anticipated warning, but as it is, the little get-together during the next day is still good to be a part of. Buck goes in his uniform, although he’s not in working capacity, just taking the chance to dress for the last time the change of clothes he was issued after arriving in the third semester. With a larger waist and middle, Buck doesn’t think he’ll wear this again anytime soon, after he folds and puts the uniform away.

Hen brings strawberry and vanilla cake, a layer of colored frosting drawing what probably is a pacifier and a firefighter helmet. They look a bit melted. It’s a nice breeze of mirth, though, especially when Hen finds Buck looking at it, and tries to forgive herself with, “Okay – in my defence I had to have this cake ordered this morning.”

“Thanks, Hen,” Buck tells her earnestly. Eyes softening, Hen opens up her arms for Buck to step into them, exchanging a brief, solid hug.

“You know it’s never a problem.” Hen squeezes him before letting go. Stepping back, she brushes a hand through the shoulder of Buck’s t-shirt. He stopped wearing the uniform’s dress shirts, too tight even in a higher number. “I’ll miss you in the station.”

“I’ll miss being in the station.” Buck knows leave will be good this time. As much as he doesn’t like being off his feet, it’s hard to regret it when it is for the baby’s good, and in time enough he’ll actually have them to occupy his time. Buck knows he’ll probably be more broken with whenever he actually returns. Even now, thinking about not being able to carry his baby everywhere, after essentially doing that all this time, makes his throat go a little tight. It still doesn’t mean he like the idea of leaving his team alone. “Take care?”

“Always.”

The cake is good, as is the company, and the improvised decoration Hen strung around the station. Buck watches for a moment a poorly drawn baby on a sash –Chim’s hand all over– still weepy enough even that makes his heart clench. When Eddie comes to his side and wraps an arm around his shoulders, he immediately melts against it.

“We have another thing to give you,” Chim starts, after the cake and the generall well wishes, less awkward than Buck would think coming from coworkers he’s not even that close with. Chim doesn’t look awkward at all, though –Bobby and Hen making pleased brackets by his side– and Buck almost finds himself suspicious.

“Chim – you gave me enough gifts.”

“Wait around to see this one,” Hen quips. It doesn’t clear anything, especially not when Chimney shushes her, pulling something from behind himself.

“This is from the whole station – believe me when I say it.” The something is a large but thin square, covered in wrapping paper; the shape Buck would expect from a photography book, maybe, though a pretty sparse one. He takes it unsurely from Chimney’s hands –too curious to continue being abashed, for now at least– but when Buck looks at him in a silent question, all he gets is a smirk from Chim’s face. “Go on. Open it.”

He does, ripping through the wrapping paper until its pieces pool by his side on the loft’s sofa, Eddie peering at the gift right beside his shoulder. Buck guffaws at the first sight.

“ What? ”

It’s a calendar; at least a very improvised one. Several copies of Chimney’s Mr April make it up, the month scratched out so a new one, written in sharpie, can take its place. Mr April March looks intently at Buck, the same guy standing across from him.

“What is this?” Eddie, right beside Buck, seems to find it funnier than even Buck does – still laughing under his breath even under Buck’s loud questions.

“Seeing as every time you’re off work you count the days to come back, we all figured we should make it easier for you.”

“And you get to track the baby’s age too,” Hen adds.

“You had a lot of calendars at home?” Buck asks Chim, only half joking.

Chim doesn’t stop looking smug. “Some improvisations were had.”

Buck leafs through the calendar – the last days of this month, and then the rest of the next one, the vague date Avocado might be born on. It’s almost hard to conceptualize it, even looking at a physical calendar. Buck brushes a thumb over April’s dates. Looking up, his gaze has gone impossibly softer.

“Thank you, guys.”

“It’s not the only thing,” Bobby tells him. The gentle look on his eyes almost seems dangerous. “Look at the end.”

The last page is not made of the same material; it’s less glossy, if still just as thick, and it takes a while for Buck to actually wrangle it to the front to figure out why. It’s cardboard paper, white and with a big ‘118’ drawn in the middle, made of neat lettering – the kind of thing you’d take 20 minutes to draw. All around it, names Buck knows from the firehouse’s present and past circle the paper, signatures and well wishes all together. It’s people from the station, and even some beyond it – Buck reads Lucy Donato, Lena Bosko and even what must be Captain Mehta's full government name. He has no idea how the team even got him to sign.

“W– how did you have time for this?”

“We had the idea months ago,” Bobby says. “Just had to hurry it up after yesterday.”

“Guys, this is…” Buck doesn’t even have the words. A little embarrassingly, Buck has to sniffle to clear out his voice. “Thank you. For real.”

Neither Bobby, Chim and Hen –nor anyone else– answer him. The gift is freely given, as gentle as the way the three of them keep looking at Buck. The way Eddie holds him from the side.

By the very edge of the paper, Buck can read his name, in the neat letters Buck always felt a little jealous about: Edmundo Francisco Diaz , with a tinier note right beneath the line. Thanks for giving me this .

Buck melts a little bit more by his side. Eddie, tracking his eyesight, hugs Buck closer. There’s no further words that need to be said.

–

Buck looks good at home; frequently locked to his pijamas, and always looking a bit sleep-rumpled. There’s something immensely domestic about coming home and finding him with a mark of one of the couch’s pillows pressed onto his cheek. It’s a good feeling to have. Another, for Eddie to kiss him right there.

The days are slow. Now that Christopher is more or less steady at school, no last minute homework for him to go through so he’s on par with California’s curriculum, most of the time at home for all three of them is spent lazing around. That’s truer for Buck, who actually has that as a responsibility; no excess physical exertion. The doctor hasn’t put him on bed rest, and still gave the go ahead for walks and minimal stretching (penetrative sex too, which was sure to make Eddie and him go red in the exam room), but Buck doesn’t do things by half. Eddie’s immensely proud of him for taking it to mean he actually does need to rest this time.

From what Eddie knows, Buck spends most of the day doing the puzzles from the book Chimney gave him (Chim was right on point in the end) and napping. Now that there’s no prerequisite for him to stand up and walk around, like there was in the firehouse, Eddie can finally see just how tired Buck is: he goes to bed early and rises late, a full night’s sleep (aside from his innumerable bathroom breaks) that Buck still adds to, with the way he keeps dozing throughout the day. Eddie is half convinced that Buck would be able to fall asleep while Eddie blows him.

It’s good to have him at home – even if Eddie isn’t also there, half the time. He’s holding back his paid leave until the baby is born, and all hands will be needed on deck, but Eddie can admit he’s revisiting his argument about going back to work earlier. It’s slightly crazying to be there without Buck by his side; especially when Eddie knows where he is –how he is– instead. He doesn’t imagine that having their baby home will actually help him not feel like that.

Each day, they get bigger. Eddie remembers this time from Christopher’s turn; when Shannon seemed to have doubled in size just in the last month. He couldn’t tell her that then without sounding like an asshole and Eddie also doesn’t do it now with Buck; but he’ll admit to be –out of anything– a little excited. The baby’s almost ready to get out the oven. Whenever Buck and Eddie are home, he can’t keep either his hands or his eyes away from Buck’s belly.

They’re folding clothes in their bedroom; even this is fun, when done in each other’s company. Buck tries to throw his balled socks at the open drawer without getting up from the bed, and he misses half the time. Eddie grins at him through all the failures.

Another thing about being home: more time. Buck hasn’t done a lot with it –until now– following the doctor's instructions, but Eddie can’t help but think his age-old excuse about being too busy to take Buck out properly doesn’t work anymore. He’s still thinking about it – even if Chim and Hen, still riding the bittersweetness of being at work without Buck, doesn’t nag him as much anymore.

“What’s your favorite idea of a night?” Folding one of Christopher’s jackets, Buck just pauses to look at Eddie – a little perplexed. Eddie supposes it’s a pretty out-of-nowhere way to start a conversation. He sounds like he’s reading through a small talk manual. “Just entertain me.”

Buck puts the jacket –folded neatly into a square– down, mulling the question as he worries at his bottom lip, entirely thoughtful. “Huh. I dunno. I guess…hanging out with everyone – or watching a movie with you and Chris.”

It’s a very Buck answer.

“That doesn’t really work,” Eddie still answers. Just a bit flustered –meeting back Buck’s confused gaze– he explains. “I was trying to think of somewhere to take you out one on one.”

“Still the date idea?”

“I have a reputation to hold – apparently.” Eddie huffs. He’s only half joking; he doesn’t want Buck to think he’s something already won, without the effort of date nights and day-time rendezvous that Eddie provided Ana and Marisol, and even Shannon. They already spend all their time together, on the basis of living and (until recently) working in the same places, but that almost seems like cheating. Buck deserves more than that. “Even Chris poked me about it. Said we’re acting like roommates.”

“Not like he’d like to see us doing the opposite.” Buck shakes his head, amused. “Don’t think too hard about that. I’m okay like this. We can’t do anything too interesting before the baby is here anyway.”

“That’s boring. Come on – we're together for about a month and already lose the spark?”

“My memories from last night say you still have a lot of spark.” Eddie pinches at Buck’s covered thigh, making him squeak. “Okay! Jeez. I wasn’t complaining.”

Eddie huffs at him. Trying to get back to seriousness, he looks intently back to Buck. “Come on,” Eddie urges. His voice goes soft by its own accord: looking at Buck’s messy curls and the gentle way he’d been rifting through Christopher and the baby’s clothes, the first newly bought and both freshly washed (a preparation for the hospital bag they –nerve-wrackingly– have to put together). Even the soft sweater Buck is currently wearing thrums at Eddie’s heartstrings – a piece of clothing that is always going to be a little stretched out after the pregnancy. Looking back at Eddie, Buck’s amused smile just makes him look gentler. “Give me one idea. Something you thought couples did when you were a kid.”

Buck lets out something between a snort and a sigh, but he still entertains Eddie; looking up, like he’s physically trying to find something to glance at in his brain.

“Okay. Hm.” He lays the rest of the clothes on his lap, fidgeting unconsciously with them as he thinks. “I guess there’s something.”

It’s not so hard to find a drive-in movie- showing, a perk of living in a big city. Eddie thought they only existed in John Travolta movies, but he’s pleasantly surprised to see one he can fulfill kid-Buck’s idea of dating. It delights adult-Buck too. When Eddie shows him the advertisement he found on the internet, Buck lets out a big and excited, “No way !” already half the fun on itself.

“You free Friday?” Eddie asks him teasingly, making the grin that’d won him a lot of valentine-day cards during highschool. It’s thrilling to see that, apart from the amusement still on Buck’s face, it totally works on him.

Hen answers Eddie’s request to have Christopher for part of the night with a lot less smugness than he expected, and Chris himself is surprisingly normal about the whole thing. Eddie almost thinks that, after all the complaining, Chris is still expecting this to be like any other time Buck and Eddie hanged out, but he actually wags a finger in the direction of his father when he and Buck drop him off at Hen and Karen’s. “No funny business.” Eddie doesn’t know if he should laugh or blush at his fourteen old kid; Buck, by his side on the passenger seat, actually snickers.

“Back at home before eleven,” Eddie ends up with, raising his hands in surrender at Christopher. He only stretches his teasing glare for a moment, before walking to where Hen is waiting by the frontdoor, and Eddie drives away before he can also hear her version of a shovel talk. Buck, staring at his side-view in amusement, 100% knows what he’s just done.

The Denali’s cab is higher than the ticket station and Eddie has to get out of it to pay the parking lot’s employee, when they finally drive for their date. Buck, still inside the car, laughs through Eddie’s entire walk, pretty smug for someone who also has a beast of a Jeep. They really have to sell one of them, to save on gas, but Eddie’s pretty sure that’s an duel he’s going to lose, so he’s keeping quiet for now.

Buck is half-jacket, half-man – smothered beneath one of his winter coats and another of his hoodies underneath it to top his fight against the cold, even though it’s still spring. Eddie pulls a blanket from the truck’s trunk when they’re finally parked in place to cuddle together in the backseats, and Buck is deliciously warm when he cuddles up against him, even if he accidentally elbows Eddie in the gut before they both get in place.

“Gah.”

“Sorry.”

“Big boy,” Eddie tells him, only a little bit teasing. Buck keeps quiet through a side-eye – no funny business , Eddie knows (if not for Christopher, then for the fact they’re kind of in public)– but he drops his weight against Eddie anyway, snug on the cradle of his arm. Eddie’s hand falls in place over his belly – fingers splayed out. Belly button to navel, or as much of it his palm gets to stretch across. It wasn’t that long ago that Eddie remembers it not being such a far width.

He brushes his thumb over Avocado. Buck, plastered to him, dips his face until his cold nose is against Eddie’s jaw.

They can’t drink. Eddie isn’t as cruel as to have a beer when Buck is living off water, juice, tea and the gentle care of watching out for the baby, so they share a bottle of something carbonated besides a big bag of popcorn, making a mess of the blanket, the backseats and themselves. The movie –a rom-com from the aughts– is not even of Eddie’s taste, but half the fun is watching Buck be entirely sold on it, even as he pauses every five minutes to yap with Eddie. It’s better than any movie theater. It’s better than a lot of nights.

“You were right,” Eddie tells softly into the crown of Buck’s curls. “Drive-ins are fun.”

He doesn’t get to see Buck’s face from this position; but Eddie feels the stretch of his smile against his own face, before Buck digs his hand out from underneath the covers to lace his fingers with Eddie’s own.

They watch the movie. It's a good date.

—

Buck’s parents come to Los Angeles a few days before Buck reaches full-term.

It’s for Maddie – the own baby she’s carrying, and the only one that Margaret and Philip know about. Maddie wants the relationship, for herself, for Jee-yun and for Joy, and from everything Buck knows –the little he was present for himself, before he called uncle– this time around that’s going well. Buck only sees the pictures, conviniently away from Los Angeles – he’s not, actually, but Maddie sells the lie about him going to a fire-safety conference really well from what Chim tells. He fowards Buck his dad’s pleased message about him being serious about the job. Buck, of course, doesn’t answer it.

The family in the pictures seems happy. Jee loves her grandparents, from all sides, especially the extra ones –the Lees– and her little sister will love them too. Margaret and Philip brough gifts, from what Buck sees from the background of some pictures, and he’s –genuinely– glad to see that they care. Maddie deserves it – like her children do. Maybe there’s something about bad parents being better grandparents, and Buck’s fill the first place well. It’s harder for him to still think there’s something specifically unlovable about himself when Maddie managed well enough. He just hopes they do a better job the second time around.

Margaret and Philip had hurt they kept hidden, and if Buck has forgiven them for that, he still doesn’t think he wants to keep being around the impact zone – not after the most recent blow back. He and his parents had gotten back into contact for five years before Buck had to take that blood test, and not once did they think about giving him a call about the last lie they had to give. Buck’s glad he got pregnant; he’s not so glad about the way it happened. Maybe it’s childish, but he doesn’t really want to be around Margaret and Philip. Buck doesn’t feel like he’ll miss much; whatever he was looking for when he was a kid, he’s already found it on his own.

It’s pretty anticlimactic, Buck thinks. For all the times he screamed at his parents and broke his bones to get them to look at him, he finds that letting them go is done out of neutrality most of anything. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop hurting –old pangs, like the scar tissue on his knee– but that’s not something that really gains anything from his parents’ company. When he sees a picture of Jee having ice cream with Margaret and Philip, he truly feels nothing but a vague sense of happyness for his niece. Maybe that’s closure; it’s more boring than what Buck had thought it would be. It’s feeling less for his parents and only an old pang when he revisits Connor’s and Kameron’s unused Instagram pages, before they stopped posting –themselves, and Lucas– all together. It’s seeing the number of the air-support team on TV coverage, and not really thinking about Tommy all that much anymore. Buck has moved on in the most basic of senses: he has more to think about, live about, to keep gripping to things in his head. His own surrogate parents, the baby he’ll get to keep, the man who raises the thermostat when Buck’s feet go cold. Buck’s already in the next street over.

He hearts Maddie’s pictures and closes his phone.

–

Christopher’s belated welcome-back party finally happens in the start of April, after a row of slow (sane) weeks. It's the time Hen needed to plan it, the way Buck already anticipated her to – along with the rest, these ones, less expected.

The party is a double deal; thrice, actually. Christopher’s get-together also multitasks as Mara’s and Bobby and Athena’s, after, respectively, Hen and Karen’s fight to get her back finally came to an end, and the new house finished construction. Athena and Bobby’s slick new place holds the batch of celebrations, a nice way to break it in, Buck thinks. A barbecue like old times, oldies for dorky dancing and a spread of cupcakes that Buck had no hand in – prohibited to go into the kitchen by everyone between Eddie and Chris, and his doctor. He stares at the banner strewn in the new backyard –no less cosy than the one from the lost house, though that might just be the company– announcing in big letters WELCOME HOME. Buck supposes that works in all three cases.

He saw Taylor’s Op-ed on the news, though he didn’t watch it; Buck prefered to call Hen at the first sign Ortiz was in hot water. Unsurprisingly, it’s hard to continue servicing grudges in city council when the whole city is looking at you. Ortiz quietly let go of her hand in the revoking of Hen and Karen’s foster license, and in a few weeks Mara was back home. Buck didn’t pay attention to the news after that; further investigations on Ortiz –new journalists following on Taylor’s trail– and then a quiet excusing from the spotlight, Ortiz choosing to step out herself. Maybe she’d be back by next year, when everyone forgot her name, but Buck finds he doesn’t care so much – not when Hen looks light as soon as the next day Mara is back under her roof. He shoots Taylor a message on Instagram – thank you – though he’s never answered. He knows she’s read it. It’s a peaceful ending anyway.

Bobby and Athena’s new house is big enough to hold everyone, even Harry and May, visiting to see the new place. It’s a bit crazy to see how much Harry shot up –only a few years older than Chris– but Buck supposes it’s probably crazy from his side to see that Buck’s doubled in size too, now that Avocado’s making up for all the time it took for them to show up. Buck doesn’t think he’s ever felt this heavy, and generally gross. The Buckleys always go beyond their due date, apparently – Buck can’t ask about it to his mother, but Maddie’s told him he was a late baby too.

It’s been a rough set of weeks. Sitting down is uncomfortable; standing up is uncomfortable; laying in bed is uncomfortable. Depending on where the baby is settled inside of Buck, he can actually feel their weight – even put a hand down to cup it, though that doesn’t always lessen the ache. His whole body is strained, from feet to neck, but it’s not something Buck still gets to lessen just changing his position. He just has to take it – until the baby is home.

Eddie glances at him when he kneads his knuckles against his lower back for the fifth time. Avocado’s been laying against it since last night.

“You okay?”

Buck nods – though he’s still honest enough to do it with a wince. “Rough position.” He lets go of his back, if only so Eddie stops worrying; he laces his fingers with Buck’s when they’re free to do so.

Buck feels like a whale. It sounded like an unjust statement when Maddie said it years ago, but he gets it now; not only does Buck feel –and looks– huge, but it’s like the whole weight of the ocean is pressing down on him. It's hard to hold it against the baby, when he’s just so excited to see them –and that’s what Buck feels most when he still looks in the mirror, or cradles his belly– but Buck is adult enough to admit that, maybe, his patience is running a little out. Last night was rough . He hates Braxton Hicks.

“Do you want a chair, Buck?” Bobby asks from the other side of the backyard – listening in really well for someone in his sixties. Buck doesn’t know if he should feel endeared or annoyed.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m getting you the chair,” Eddie decides on his own. He leaves with a brush of his hand against the ache on Buck’s back. It’s hard to hold a grudge like this.

Hen looks at him and Eddie gently as he goes. “Don’t make fun,” Buck still says. To hold his ground, he also doesn’t mutter the ouch he wants to – a cramp flashing right at the line of his belly button. Hen shakes her head – this time more amused.

“How far are you running again?”

“Made forty weeks this monday.” The reading Hen recommended him said male carriers tended to deliver later – and slower, which Buck is really not looking forward to. He’s feeling late alright. Buck envies Maddie a little bit – still in the fun party. At the other side of the backyard, she exchanges conversation on the patio chairs with Karen while Jee uses her baby bump as a pillow.

“That’s still in the lower range.” Hen looks at him a little pityingly. Buck groans loudly. “If it helps – a lot of the aches you’re probably feeling are the baby getting ready for labor. So at least the extra time is for something?”

“Thanks, Hen.”

“Anytime, Buckaroo,” she pats him in the back. When Eddie finally returns with a free chair in one hand, she steps aside so he can put it right behind Buck.

For all he resisted, Buck can’t keep back a relieved sigh when he finally sits down. His back is still aching something awful, but he at least gets to be off his feet. As if conjuring it out of thin air, Eddie also gives him a glass of ice water. Buck doesn’t even drink it – he just cups it in his hand, trying to focus on the cold, fresh feel of the glass’ perspiration.

“Want me to make you a plate?” Eddie asks him.

“Not really hungry right now; maybe later. Can you give Chris some food though? I think he’s forgotten he’s a human with a stomach since Harry turned on his gaming console.”

“Sure,” Eddie snorts. “I’ll take extra so he and Denny don’t die either,” he says the last part for Hen – giving him a toothy smile, she winks at him in thanks.

“I don’t know what’s more cute,” Hen starts, when Eddie walks inside with a plate full of pigs in blankets. “That Eddie is zooming around like an anxious pet or that you keep finding him things to do.”

“I gotta pay the favor back.” Buck shrugs. The firehouse knows the amount of times Eddie gave him a little task so he could focus on something. Buck almost misses it – it was more fun than to wait around twiddling his thumbs. There’s only so many times he can redo the baby bag and do Chimney’s puzzles. “He doesn’t like when I’m hurting,” Buck says in a quieter voice.

“You have that in common,” Hen says gently. Buck shrugs again. “You know – I thought about delaying this party until you already had the baby. It might have been funny to have four reasons for the ‘welcome home’ sign.”

It is pretty funny. “Why didn’t you do that, then?”

“I wanted you guys to have a distraction too.” Hen smiles at him – it makes Buck’s heart ache something soft. “Also – I don’t know how long an eternity that would be.”

Buck snorts. “Can’t blame you on that.” He almost wishes he had started a new hobby or something; Buck would have been at least intermediate level with the amount of time he has been groaning in discomfort at home.

“But, for real – how are you doing? You’re keeping up with your doctor?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hen’s concern is unneeded; Buck doesn’t think he’s ever been so methodic in visiting his GP since getting pregnant – especially these last months. “I’m sending updates every two days. I lost my plug this week, actually!”

“Aw,” Hen coos at him, smiling brightly, “and ew.” Her voice is entirely earnest.

“You asked! Didn’t you want to be a doctor?”

“Not right now, thank you very much.” Hen puts her plate of coleslaw away. And, actually – Buck can see the resemblance. He’s merciful enough to not share it with Hen.

“Didn’t you ever think about getting back to baby-making with Karen?” he asks instead. They’re not back to openly fostering yet; Mara just returned, and Buck knows Hen and Karen want to adopt her. But Hen always loved babies. Buck wasn’t working in the firehouse when the IVF treatment didn’t work –his stupid lawsuit– but he remembers hearing about it later. Karen was broken up with.

“There’s no need,” Hen shrugs. She looks to the backyard – where Mara is talking with anyone and everyone, a bright little girl. She had even helped pass orders for Bobby in the grill. Buck finds that Hen doesn’t really need to say anything else, beside that.

He takes a hand from his glass of water to put over his stomach, thumb running across the fabric of his henley. Whatever warmth Hen has sheltered in her heart, Buck has one of his own. He smiles with himself.

“I’m happy for you,” Buck tells Hen. It gets her to give him a teasing look – almost ready to call him sappy, just by glance alone.

“I’m happy for you too,” she still answers sincerely. It’s a nice circle, Buck thinks – to have her sitting in front of him. Nine months –and change– ago, she was the one that forced him into the ambulance to check his blood pressure. She was the one that made him go to the doctor. For all the bad that happened in-between, Buck is very glad to have come this way. He agrees with Hen when she says, “This is going to be a good year.”

“Yeah,” Buck smiles.

The cramp in his stomach squeezes again.

It's natural to wince, Buck’s nose turning like he just smelt something awful. It's less natural for his face to freeze, when math –and basic logic– runs in his head. These cramps are awfully stubborn. Timed, one might say.

Uh oh.

“Hey, Hen,” he starts. Hen just hums – having gone back to watching her daughter. “Do you remember what time me, Eddie and Chris got here?”

“Thirty minutes, I think.” Hen’s gaze turns a little more suspicious when she glances at the tight knot over Buck’s brow, and the way his knuckles have whitened a little at his grip on his glass of water. This one really hurt. He should have tracked the time between the others before it. “...why?”

“Uhm. Okay – d-don’t freak out. But I think your idea about the party and the baby might come true.”

Hen gapes. “You’re shitting me.”

For all Buck had protested in anticipation, he can’t stop Hen from actually turning whole-bodiedly to check on him – even without her equipment. A finger pushing at Buck’s pulse point, Hen looks at his face like that will get all the answers.

“You’re having contractions?”

“Okay, I thought they were aches. Aches . They might still be?”

“For how long have you been hurting?”

“Since last night. But just barely!” he adds, when Hen gives him a long suffering look.

“Oh, Buck.” She shakes her head. Behind her, Buck can only somewhat see Bobby –and more far away, Maddie– look in his direction at their slightly raised voices. Hen, nonetheless, still finds in herself to look peaceful. “Okay. I guess this is a way to break in Bobby’s new backyard.”

Buck snorts. At the next flash of discomfort, the sound turns into a groan instead.

“Buck?” Bobby walks towards him, grill abandoned. As a proper fire captain, he’s covered it though – and took the meat still roasting from inside. The flies can have it, for all that Bobby apparently cares. His face is more focused on Buck – the concentrated look he typically shows on scenes.

“Cap, can you get me your blood-pressure cuff and a stethoscope? And call Eddie? Pretty sure he has to drive Buck to the hospital.”

Those are not very promising words – although, with Hen’s level voice, and Buck just looking sheepishly back at Bobby, the sting might be lessened. The experienced dread on his face softens.

“Is it time?”

“Maybe,” Buck tells him. Bobby lets out a breath – something between a weary sigh and a laugh. When he’s close enough to do so, he brushes a hand across Buck’s shoulder, short and quick, before he’s turning back towards his new house.

“Don’t get up – I’m bringing Eddie.”

Buck feels spectacularly calm for all that it takes less than a minute for the rest of the party to go into a frenzy because of him. Maddie and Chim seem more anxious than he does, despite them being the ones most experienced – and not about to feel full-labor contractions. Buck actually snickers at his sister’s fleet of questions, Chimney hovering behind like a stressed fly, the giddiness in Buck’s chest coming out a bit like hysterics. Maybe Athena expects it well enough, because she just sends Buck a patient look as she wrangles Mara and Jee-yun away, bringing them inside the house. He’s having the baby – he’s having the baby .

Bobby makes good on his promise: when he comes back it's with Eddie –and Chris– on toll. Both their eyes are saucer-wide, deep with something like fear, and Buck’s almost surprised that Chris is the one that reaches him first.

“You’re okay?” Like this –wide, and big eyed– Christopher looks younger; like the kid he was and still is. Buck reaches a hand out to cradle his nape, running a thumb through the curls there with what he hopes is comfort and reassurance. The only look Buck gives him is an excited one.

“I’m perfect.”

“You’re okay?” Eddie repeats the exact same thing, kneeling by Buck’s side. He snorts again.

“I’m perfect!” The next flash of pain undersells it, but after Buck has finished whimpering in front of everyone’s worried faces, he smiles between Eddie and Chris again. “Ouch – this one aside. I’m really okay. It hurts, but – it’s not firetruck painful. I got this.”

Chim winces. “You might want to hold back on that for a little bit, buddy.”

“Chim, don’t jinx this.” Buck points a finger in his direction, still holding on to Chris with his other hand. Eddie cups both their wrists, hold loose and tight all at once, like he doesn’t know how he should touch Buck.

“We should go.”

Buck nods – still wanting to comfort Eddie, he turns his free hand from Chimney until he can pull it out of Eddie’s hold, and entwine both their fingers properly. “We’ll have to drive home first – get the baby bag.”

Eddie shakes his head. “I made an extra one for both cars.” He’s enough in the worry zone Eddie doesn’t even look embarrassed to admit to that. Buck’s eyes soften. “We’re ready to go. Bobby, can you–”

“I’ll get your things; just take him to the car.”

“I really am going to be okay,” Buck tells Eddie a last time, before also addressing everyone else. This might be the best hospital visit in Buck’s whole life. “We’re having our baby,” he tells Eddie again.

It doesn’t do away with the fear, but Buck is impossibly glad to see excitement right in the center of Eddie’s dilating pupils.

“Yeah,” his voice breaks. He kisses Buck in the top of the head, before helping him to his feet. “Let’s go bring them home.”

–

For all that Buck has a high pain tolerance and an even higher urge to hide what hurts, it doesn’t take many other hours until he’s actively shaking in his hospital bed, cold sweat making his hair stick to his face. Time slows and quickens at the same time, until Eddie struggles to follow it, or much of anything at all. The things he knows are few, and flighty on his chest where he tries to hold them, like a child’s safety blanket: Chris stayed with Athena and Bobby –with the promise of being kept updated– so Eddie could take Buck to their planned birth center, Eddie’s not letting Buck alone for a second, and they’re coming out those doors with their baby.

It’s a kind of torture to see Buck hurting with nothing Eddie can do, and that’s what’s needed of him for hours on end – a tight grasp on Buck’s hand and a soft touch agaist his sweaty forehead, gentle words Buck might as well not hear during the last stretch. It’s still not as torturous as whatever Buck is feeling, and Eddie keeps a tight hold on him, for all the rushed eternity it takes. Buck doesn’t know exactly when he started to feel what he thought were only pressure and cramps last night, and so they can’t properly track the labor’s duration, but it’s almost nine in the hospital, and probably twelve before they actually drove there. Their baby comes in less than 24 fours hours –rare, with Carriers– but at the same time too fast and too slow. Eddie’s hands are shaking when he hears their first cry. Buck’s shaking is whole-bodiedly.

“There you go,” Buck’s OB coos, eyes crinkled over her doctor’s mask. It’s from between a flurry in the room, extremely far away for all that she’s standing only at the foot of the bed, holding something so tiny and precious Eddie is almost scared to look. The crying is loud – strong and shrill the way he had only heard fourteen years ago, and he only belatedly realizes he’s crying too. It’s silently, the way Buck doesn’t manage – if his open sobbing is for pain or glee, Eddie doesn’t know, but Buck sounds nearly as loud as the baby, blubbering, almost.

Eddie hugs his shoulders almost unconsciously, bringing Buck into his side, sweaty where he presses against Eddie’s scrubs. Maybe they’ll both feel embarrassed for melting into tear puddles in some hours, but not now. Neither of them can take their eyes from the red, angry little thing passing hands between doctors and nurses, until –either him or Buck, Eddie doesn’t know– one of them laughs, a little hysterically, as the OB declares, “You guys got yourselves a little baby girl.”

Experience doesn’t make Eddie’s hands any more steady as he’s offered the scissors to cut her umbilical cord. She’s the smallest thing Eddie has ever seen. It’s an irrational thought – he’s watched babies being delivered in the job, has delivered a number of his own, and the tiny body the nurses will take to properly measure and weight just at the corner of the room won’t be light or small in the material sense, but he almost feels breathless with worry when one of the doctors reaches out the bundle for him and Buck to see and hold. She’s so small. These people are going to trust him with her ?

“Come on – which of the dads want to hold her first?”

Buck almost looks like a child when he reaches his hands forward, arms still twitching with leftover strain and a lot of exhaustion. “C-can I–”

She hasn’t been properly swaddled, or even cleaned, waiting for the first skin-contact, and the towel underneath her is perfunctory, hiding very little. The doctor helps her onto Buck’s bare chest but steps back just as soon, hovering to the side as they finally get to look at her, the way both of them had waited for months. Eddie counts ten fingers, ten toes, and through her flushed, angry-red skin, still makes out the thin, soft hair on her crown, probably at the same time Buck does, chocolate brown. Eddie knows geneology, and the color of hair of the man who fathered her, but the first thing he thinks, natural like the way the baby fits against Buck’s chest, the way she fit inside him, is – she’s got my hair . It’s dark like Eddie’s

Buck touches it with his pinky, like any other finger would be too big or heavy. “H-hey, hi.” It must be uncomfortable to wake up in such a bright, loud world after fitting so well, and for so long, in the snugness of Buck. She mewls, wails lessening into whines then whimpers as her father shushes her, and ducks his head until he can gingerly touch his nose to her pink cheek. “Ni-nice to meet you.”

Eddie’s next exhale rattles on the way out of chest, too rough in front of something so fragile. As scared as he is to touch her, he can’t keep his hands away for long; his palm naturally fits at the curve of her back, helping support her weight against Buck, both so warm. Pressed so close to them, Eddie can count every fluttering eyelash, worth the weight of gold, watch the dimple her chin makes as she pouts. Buck brushes the back of his knuckles against her cheek, feather-like even from where Eddie is seeing it, and he lets his chin rest on top of Buck’s head, continuing to look down at her. Eddie breathes out again – and keeps doing it.

“Hey, you,” he says lamely. Beneath him, his and Buck’s baby scowls, so naturally both of them laugh at the angry little frown on her face. She’s stopped crying though. Blinking and squinting her eyes, she just glares at the world, getting used to belonging in it. Eddie splays his hand wide, like any time he cupped Buck’s bump, tiny to big, as a friend then a partner, palm almost the size of her body now she’s outside. Eddie helps hold her. “Welcome home.”

–

Babygirl is sleeping when Christopher finally comes into the private room.

“That’s what you’re calling her?”

Eddie snorts. Buck –for all there’s dark marks the size of whole countries beneath his eyes– just smiles fondly at their kids.

“It’s a general moniker – until we give something to put in her birth certificate.” Sitting against the head of his bed –Christopher right by his side– Buck keeps running circles with his thumb at the bottom of her blanket, right where her feet must be on the hospital bassinet. Eddie understands the urge to never let go of her – and he hadn’t been the one who always had a physical connection. “Me and your dad wanted to check with you first, though.”

“Me?” Chris frowns. “Like – to choose a name?”

“Sure,” Eddie answers. “You’re her big brother. You’ll be the one screaming it half the time. Might as well pick one that rolls well off the tongue.”

Buck’s cheeks dimple in the short glance he throws Eddie’s way. “Come on,” he tells Chris. “Me and Eddie were never good with names.”

It’s a weak excuse; Christopher has to recognize it. Eddie is ready to believe he does by the uncertainty on his face alone – the vulnerable way he looks between Buck and Eddie, adolescent but even then more insecure than Christopher had been about his place in both their lives a year ago. Eddie will never not feel sorrow for that – but he hopes the promise they’re offering, and the others they’ll continue to, can build a new, unsinkable bridge.

Christopher’s throat might be too tear-thick to speak –Eddie knows the feeling– but he eventually nods at the offer, to Buck’s earnest look. His dimples widen as Chris does so.

“I wanted something to match you. A name that starts with C – or B.”

“B?” Chris asks.

“Like we’re building an alphabet,” Buck explains. “You know – CD, BD. Christopher Diaz. B-something Diaz.”

“You’re using dad’s name?” It isn't that Chris sounds like he disagrees with the choice; mostly, he seems confused. They can't fault him – Buck and Eddie aren’t married (yet). Eddie's name is going into Avocado's birth certificate either way though; giving their daughter his last name only feels natural. Eddie is too giddy about it to think about being abashed instead.

“You don't like it?” Buck asks Christopher. He must know it isn't like that –Buck doesn't look hurt, at most like he just wants to make sure– but Christopher dispels the idea anyway.

“No – it isn't that. It's just that you won't match the baby.”

Buck’s face softens. “I can still put Buckley down as her middle name.” His sister did the same for Jee-yun, Eddie knows. Jee still has Buckley in her name, even if Maddie herself doesn't anymore, after having married Chim. Eddie doesn't find it very surprising that Buck doesn't care too much about his surname when it's now only connected to his parents. “I’m just not very attached to it,” he tells Chris. “The only thing Buckley gave me is the nickname. Maddie doesn't use hers anymore anyway. I like yours and your dad’s more.” Not Helena’s and Ramon’s name; only Christopher’s and Eddie’s. And their little girl’s now.

Buck will take it too – eventually. Eddie smiles at him as Buck glances between him, Avocado and Chris, their whole unit, in the same room. Months ago, Eddie could only dream of this. Now, there’s dimples on Buck’s face that match his own. Eddie’s happy enough to feel young.

“So we’ll all be Diazes.” Chris shuffles on his seat. He’s still too adolescent to openly beam at the idea, like he probably would have, seven years ago, but he can't hide the fact he ends up looking privately pleased at it. “You’re already BD though, Buck.”

Buck rolls his eyes. He still can't hide his own smile either. “Me and Eddie don't count. Your sister: C or B?”

“No A though?”

“Give us a few years,” Eddie tells him. Buck laughs from beneath Christopher’s loud, long-suffering groan. When the baby stirs, both of them start echoing shushes until she’s breathing out a sleepy sigh again.

Chris only comes back to the conversation when the tragedy is averted. “It’s too Kardashian if you use two C-names.” he restarts. His hand has taken its place beside Buck’s – petting his sister's tiny foot, soothing her back to sleep. Eddie can only admire the picture. “B-something is better. Depending on the name your guys want, anyway.”

“Beatrice,” Buck says easily – something soft in his face as he tells the name to Chris. When he catches Eddie’s eyes, both their eyes crinkle the same.

“Bia,” he adds.

Christopher thinks about it for a moment, turning to look at his sleeping sister. He hesitates as he raises his hand again, but, eventually, Chris braves enough to reach higher into the bassinet, moving a thumb past Buck’s to touch at the baby’s cheek.

“Hi, Bia.”

Buck and Eddie meet their eyes from over his head, eyes bright and big. It’s a sound that fits well.

–

The 118

Eddie Diaz [22:10]

[photo attachment]

Bia Buckley Diaz. Beatrice. 8 pounds. Buck’s doing well.

Hen [22:10]

Oh my ❤️

Cap [22:10]

That’s wonderful, Eddie. I’m incredibly proud of you two. Tell Buck he’s done great.

Eddie Diaz [22:11]

Always.

Howard Chim [22:11]

wahh those are cuties

not buck though, just the kids

sending this to maddie, me and her will come
when he’s rested ;)

jee can’t wait to see her little cousin, that’ll for sure
soft launch a baby girl on her head

tell chris he looks great as a big brother

Howard Chim [22:17]

also, you better hurry up and make my bro in law a
honest man, mister mundo

Buck (work) [22:39]

wouldnt mind another seven years 😊

Chapter Text

It is a week before Bia’s first birthday, in the farmer’s market of all places, when it happens.

“Evan?”

Buck is buying things for the cake. It was a bit of an argument between him and Eddie – the silly kind, where they run circles around each other until Chris remembers they have things to do at home, or Ravi does the same at work (“ Please don’t compare me to your teenage son ,” he’d complained when Buck provided the parallel). Eddie swears ordering the cake –and everything else– is alright, but Buck is on a mission ; even if it’s one that’s making his family go a little crazy.

Buck is perhaps a little too in on party-planning. He’s especially too in by deciding on doing everything on his own; from food to decorations, and the little games the birthday girl isn’t even old enough to play, but is still going to have a blast laughing without understanding a thing anyway. It’s the first one-year birthday of his kids that he’s getting to attend, seeing as Buck actually didn’t know Chris until he was already seven years old, and being the first time, Buck really wants it to be a blast; even if Bia doesn’t have the mental processes to remember it. Buck will – and Eddie and Chris, and Bobby and Athena, and Maddie, Hen, Chimney, Jee with her baby sister and the whole extended family.

Buck wants it to be one of the good memories: bringing Bia home and then to the station for the first time, inaugurating trick-or-treating as, finally, a family –even if Chris swears he’s too old–, getting tattoos with Eddie around their fingers instead of visiting a jewelry store, moving out of South Bedford street. It’s his husband’s fault, really, for having first allowed Buck to pull a free clipboard from the station’s storage. Eddie knows how Buck gets. He likes projects.

“ I have a score to settle with myself, Eddie ,” Buck argued ad nauseum, even last evening, making a list of ingredients, and a gameplan to the stores he’d go for each of them. Eddie had given him a little look and dragged him to bed.

“ Okay – but let’s go on after eight hours of sleep. ”

Truth be told, Buck is having one of the best weeks of his life – a stiff competition already, when he’s been on an upgrade for eight years counting. It's true, for all that Buck is probably running an army out of their family’s house: prohibiting entrance to the kitchen until he’s prepped and frozen all the treats the party is going to serve, and making Eddie and Chris help him manually diy all the decorations (not like Bia, who still is learning the concept of words, and eating with her hands, can help). He’s having a blast.

Buck loves making lists – fulfilling them. He loves making things in front of Bia –anything between a paper flower and a batch of cookies– and narrating the process like she can understand. Buck loves cooking and making her try it out. And this, all of it, is why Beatrice will be the first baby to have and prefer carrot frosting on her birthday cinnamon cupcakes – why Buck is standing in the middle of a vegetable stand in the first place, his infant daughter strapped to his chest in a papoose, as he turns at his name and sees Tommy Kinnard again.

He’s staring at Buck – probably a bit overdue. “Uh– T-Tommy,” Buck greets back, probably not looking any less shocked. It’s been almost two years since the last time he’s seen Tommy – a bit since he even said his name out loud too, actually. Buck isn’t seeing a ghost, but it feels a little like he is.

It’s not like LA is a small town, but he and Tommy managed to miss each other from all the time between Buck leaving Tommy’s apartment for the last time and, eventually, coming to this farmer’s market. Sharing the same job didn’t provide many opportunities, funnily enough. It figures that this is the place. Buck almost expected to never see Tommy again a day in his life.

He doesn’t look so different. In the grand scheme of things, it hasn’t been too long for him to have to; for all that Buck’s life has changed exponentially, he’s well aware that it's only been about eighteen months since they last saw each other. Time flies by when you’re raising a baby; every day is a year. Eighteen months ago, Bia was a result on a blood test, and something so small inside of Buck, he had to do an internal sonogram. Now, she’s about to turn one. Strapped to Buck’s chest, she blubbers, a curious little sound at the way her dad has frozen up. Buck cups the back of her head; fingers brushing through her wavy, dark hair.

Buck is the one who’s really changed. Aside the obvious –the baby strapped to his chest– he’s only really got back to his body. He’s still a few pounds heavier –Eddie likes that, so Buck isn’t in a hurry to change– and he’s too busy taking care of a baby to care too much appearance-wise; especially on a weekend. Buck hasn’t bothered shaving today, sporting the scruff Bia laughs at when he or Eddie tickle their faces against her belly, nor had he worried about brushing his hair, so Tommy is not seeing a magazine-worth Buck; just the dad of someone about to be 1. Buck can’t really find in himself to feel abashed.

“It’s, uhm, been a while,” he says conversationally. Giving a brief smile to the person manning the carrot stand, Buck takes a small step to the side, turning properly towards Tommy. He instinctively steadies Bia through the movement, a hand on her nape and another pulling the tote bag hanging from his shoulder higher.

“It–” Tommy stammers, “it sure has.” He’s still gaping at Buck – and Beatrice. It’s not like Buck has forgotten. He’s not the one who’s going to reintroduce the topic though.

“So,” Tommy tries awkwardly. “You, uh. You went through with it. The– you know.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…” Tommy trails off. He’s probably figured on his own that, whatever he thinks, it’s not really going to matter. He’d washed his hands off already. Buck didn’t give him a kid. Tommy, at most, gave Buck sperm.

“Yeah,” Buck repeats. “Ee-eh,” Bia echos from against his chest, and he reflexively smiles at her, rocking Bia a little where he’s standing. She repeats it too for good measure. “Ee-eh?”

When Buck looks back at Tommy, he has a harder expression to read on his face. It’s not like Buck thinks this is about to change his life. Buck always wanted kids – that was true even through his childhood, shitty as it was, and he doesn’t imagine it’s, for all intent and purpose, an unknown kid, only with Tommy’s genes, that will change what the man is looking for in his life. Buck hadn’t blamed Tommy for not wanting children, and he still doesn’t now; they just looked for different things. Buck, truth be told, doesn’t really think about him all that much.

He’s grateful for what Tommy has allowed him and Eddie: diapers and tummy time and potty training and bottles then smashed fruit and then the first time Bia ate the slice of a banana, Buck and Eddie –and Chris, judging– commemorating like they just watched the Super Bowl. But Buck’s life –Beatrice’s– is already well far apart from the man. Buck doesn’t feel nostalgia. Deja vu at most. Primarily, he’s remembering the carrot cakes he still has to make.

He shuffles on his feet, showing the same awkwardness Tommy hasn’t stopped doing for even a moment. It might be a rude unpause back to life for him, if not one as harsh as Christopher’s return – crutches clapping through the sideroad’s concrete until his voice is close enough to reach Buck’s ears.

“Buck, can I buy beignets? Dad says it’s too close to lunch time.”

Buck only knows the moment Christopher has noticed Tommy for the sudden stop of his crutches, right beside him. He doesn’t say anything though; it’s just Eddie, following behind, that does.

“Buck, do not let Chris eat– Tommy.”

“Hey, Diaz.”

Buck glances between Eddie and Tommy, both looking about as similarly off-footed. Eddie would probably twitch his nose at the comparison. Is thinking of it –hiding a smile– that Buck turns to him.

“I got the carrots.”

“Uh– alright.” Eddie’s face twitches and turns, warring between glancing at Buck or going back to staring –unashamedly– at Tommy. The shock can be amusing when it's not Buck’s own expression; he gets to see his husband’s face, the full stubble Eddie also hasn't taken care of, and the strand of hair their daughter likes to tug down on so much (Buck likes it too). Looking at Eddie, Buck only feels calm, no space left to give for surprise and uncertainty at Tommy’s sudden reappearance. It will be short-lived anyway. Eddie –the man who laughed at Buck, and cried with Buck, and whose voice grows feather-soft when he sings Bia to sleep– is the one that gets to stay.

“Can I get the beignots?” Chris restarts. Eddie almost seems to get whiplash, turning his head back to him.

“It is pretty close to lunch time,” Buck agrees with Eddie. He lets out his smile at the sound of Christopher’s loud groaning. The noise makes Bia strain her neck trying to follow it. “Come on,” Buck laughs, cupping her head again. Eddie’s hair and Eddie’s baby, where it matters. Bia –big brown eyes looking between all of them– just makes Buck feel warmer. “We still gotta find the rest of the stuff. Tommy…”

“Y-Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, voice sounding automatic. “It was…nice seeing you, Evan.”

“Ewan?” Bia babbles, curiosity crossing her face at the unknown sound. Mirth colors Christopher at seeing her confusion. Buck leads him along before his father, touching Eddie on the shoulder so he’ll stop staring at Tommy, the hand that has his tattooed ring on it. The touch is as casual as pointed, both ways throughout, and Eddie drifts beneath it, following Buck with one last glance back. Buck is still smiling when he meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Sure,” Buck tells Tommy. He doesn’t turn his head from Christopher or Bia (him going a bit cross-eyed as he makes sounds at his little sister so she’ll coo) nor does Buck glance away from Eddie – driving them along the market’s visit and the rest of their errands. They still have a birthday party to throw this week. Buck has a cake to make.

Buck parts with Tommy with superficial pleasantry, the way you do with a stranger , and with words you don't really expect to happen. You don’t look forward anyway. “See you around, Tommy.”

It's Eddie who takes and holds Buck’s hand.