Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There are very few safe places in the world. Eddie would know—he’s been through the worst of them. He’s got the scars to prove it, too. The ones that can be seen, and the ones that can be felt.

But Eddie’s living room is safe.

Maybe it’s naive to feel that way; the windows could be smashed in by burglars in ski masks, or the earth could begin to shake and try to swallow him whole. Maybe nowhere is ever safe. But here, enclosed in these walls, with no one around to hear his music or see him dance the silly choreography from Risky Business, Eddie feels safe, which is why he finally allows himself to do those things in the first place.

When his doorbell rings as he’s lying on the couch in his underwear and a white button-up, Eddie’s instinct is to shut the music off and pretend it never happened. His mind screams at him to do it, and he almost does. The only thing that stops him is the knowledge that it could be—and probably is—Buck on the other side of that door.

If it was anyone else, he’d surely feel panic well up in his chest as he scrambled to put on pants, tidy up the living room, and package himself back into that presentable box that he lives in every day. But not if Buck is the one waiting for him.

Buck would never judge him. Buck is the only truly safe place.

When he looks through the peephole, surely enough, it’s Buck. He seems upset, a troubled look in his expressive blue eyes. And when Eddie opens the door for him, he barges right in, pressing a beer into Eddie’s hands.

Buck plops himself down on the couch. He should get comfortable—he’s probably going to sleep there later anyway. Eddie joins him, twists the cap off his beer, and takes a long sip. It’s shitty beer that Buck probably picked up from the gas station on his way over. They’ll finish the six pack, anyway.

“Tommy dumped me,” Buck says after they finish the first two. They’ve queued up a love story dressed up as an action film—the kind that men secretly like for the warm conversation and intimate connection as much as for the explosions. Buck usually enjoys them, but tonight he’s been staring at his hands more than the TV. Guess that explains why.

The words stir a complex array of emotions in Eddie. On one hand, he’s pissed that Tommy has hurt his best friend this badly—he actually thought, for once, Buck had found someone decent who would treat him right. To Eddie, it’s extremely baffling how so many have had Evan Buckley’s heart in their hands and simply thrown it on the ground like it doesn’t mean anything. Not just any heart—Buck’s heart. Being loved by Buck and letting that go? Probably the most foolish thing anyone could ever do.

On the other hand, and purely selfishly in motivation, Eddie has to admit that he likes it better when he and Buck are single at the same time. At least when Eddie was seeing Ana or Marisol, he could shove away the disappointment of Buck cancelling plans for a date by simply planning one of his own. But when Buck would turn down a movie night so he could be with Tommy, Eddie would have nothing to do but sit alone on his couch and think about the time when every night was him, Buck, and Christopher.

(Yeah, he could probably join Buck and Tommy when they hang out—they’re all friends, after all—but the thought of third-wheeling the two men is worse than any lonely nights he could possibly endure.)

It’s been far too long since Buck shared this new information, and Eddie should have responded by now. He pops the lid off another beer, as if that will cover it up, and says, “Do you want me to punch him in the nose?”

Buck sputters on his drink, coughing twice to clear his airways. “What?”

Eddie shrugs. “I was in a fight club for a reason. I could take him.”

Okay, maybe he’s a little more pissed at Tommy than he originally thought. But seriously, maybe a solid uppercut would knock some sense into the pilot.

“Dude, first rule of fight club—”

“He wouldn’t stand a chance. I’ve taken on much stronger guys than him,” Eddie interrupts. “Also, he’s old and frail.”

“He’s not old,” Buck mutters, jutting his lower lip into a pout. “He’s just… more mature.”

Eddie sets his drink down on the coffee table and kicks his feet up under his bare legs. “Okay, why did he break up with you?”

Buck frowns. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. I want to see how mature he really is.”

A deep, resigned sigh escapes Buck’s lips. “He said it was because I would break his heart.”

Wow. Tommy is just an idiot.

Eddie rants, anger building in his chest like a cord about to snap, “You've been nothing but loyal to him. He has no reason to think you would break his heart.”

Buck laughs humourlessly. “I guess he just decided to break mine first.”

That makes him pause. He knew Buck was upset, but heartbroken is a strong word. Did Buck ever even say he loved Tommy? Eddie’s pretty sure he would remember that. “Come on, Buck. You can do way better than him.”

“No, I can’t,” he responds, sad eyes turned onto Eddie. “Tommy was the perfect boyfriend.”

Eddie winces. Break-ups always feel like a big loss, but this has to feel different. Tommy was not only significantly older but also more experienced and more comfortable in his sexuality; surely he must have taken the initiative to give Buck the ‘boyfriend experience.’

“I can imagine,” Eddie muses, reflecting on Tommy’s love of grand gestures. “If he flew me out to Vegas just for a fight, he must have done some crazy stuff to impress you.” 

The tips of Buck’s ears turn red, matching the soft hue of his birthmark. But he doesn’t look fond and reminiscent—he looks embarrassed.

“What?” Eddie asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s just… he never actually took me in the helicopter,” Buck admits, flushing deeper. “But he was romantic in other ways.”

Eddie must be a masochist because he needs to know every detail even if it’s making him kind of sick to think about it. “What kind of ways?”

A look of contemplation crosses Buck’s face, like he wasn’t expecting a follow-up. A moment passes before he speaks again. “Well, he would always tell me I looked hot when he picked me up for a date. He didn’t seem upset when other people flirted with me, which I guess meant he was secure in our relationship. And I think he thought being the only one to call me Evan was romantic—that’s why I never corrected him.”

Eddie blanches. Here he was, rambling on about how Tommy did elaborate things for him when they were just friends; meanwhile, the asshole hadn’t even put a shred of the same effort into wooing Buck like he deserved. Clearly, Eddie had misunderstood the nature of Buck and Tommy’s relationship this whole time, thinking his best friend was being duly cared for and treated like a prince, while he was actually being given less than the bare minimum.

Buck soldiers on. “He even got me a present for our six-month anniversary. I didn’t get him anything. Maybe that’s why he broke up with me—I was being a shitty boyfriend.”

“What did he get you?” Eddie asks. He’s running through what he would get Buck—he definitely needs a new set of kitchen knives, or maybe a nice massage gun to help with his flare-ups, or that adorable firefighter puppy calendar he saw the other day while they were grocery shopping. Damn, he wishes Buck’s birthday wasn’t so far away.

“Lakers tickets,” Buck answers instead. He doesn’t look at Eddie when he says it, like he knows that Eddie will know.

And, of course, Eddie does know. “You hate basketball.”

“I don’t hate basketball—”

“Buck.”

A resigned sigh punches its way out of his mouth. “Well, it’s the thought that counts.”

“As far as I can tell, there was no thought,” Eddie scoffs. Six months and Tommy still didn’t know this very basic fact about his boyfriend? Or he did know and ignored it because he didn’t want to go to the game alone, framing it as a gift to force Buck’s hand. Eddie’s not sure which is worse.

Buck digs into his pocket and pulls out the two tickets, looking at them pensively. “I don’t know, I think it could have been fun in the right company.”

Eddie’s face screws up. “And that company is Tommy?”

It makes his stomach churn uneasily, the thought of Tommy being so special to Buck that he could make him enjoy something he hated. Like that time Buck showed up to the pick-up game, and Eddie was so excited he was there, but it turned out he’d only come to see Tommy…

“You know, he said I could bring you instead if I wanted to,” Buck says.

Eddie’s mouth goes dry. His mind conjures up a vivid image of Buck and Tommy at the game, laughing together, sharing snacks, leaning on each other when they get tired—and then erases Tommy’s face and replaces it with his own.

He laughs nervously. “No way Tommy was okay with giving up Lakers tickets.”

“Yeah, turns out he was joking. Or maybe he was”—Buck shuffles uncomfortably on the couch—“testing me or something, to see if I would rather have gone with you.”

Eddie’s chest aches. Of course, Buck hadn’t actually agreed to take him instead of his boyfriend. It’s fine that Buck wanted to go to the game with Tommy—Tommy, who has other friends who actually like basketball, but who probably wanted to hold Buck in his arms and kiss him and show him off. It’s fine that Buck wanted that, too. You’re supposed to want to spend time with your partner over everyone else, even your best friend—that’s what makes you a couple, after all. That’s supposed to be your favourite person in the world.

But the way Buck is looking at him right now, with a mix of guilt and affection in his swirling blue eyes, makes Eddie think that maybe, just maybe, Buck hadn’t passed Tommy’s stupid test after all.

A sudden bout of bravery flares up inside of Eddie, making him ask, “Would you have rather gone with me?”

Buck answers without hesitation. “Of course.” Then, he pauses, blinking at his lap, like maybe he regrets the way he answered so fast. “Not that I wouldn’t have wanted to go with Tommy.”

It doesn’t matter, because Eddie’s already latched onto the first part. He has to bite back the urge to smile smugly, grabbing his drink off the coffee table to hide behind it. “So let’s go then.”

Buck blinks at him, confused. “What?”

“Let me take you to the game.” He means to stop there, but—“Let me take you on a helicopter. Let me take you to dinner and a movie and make up for the night he left you standing on the sidewalk alone,” Eddie says impulsively, the words falling out of his mouth before he can shove them back in and tell them to stay like a misbehaving dog.

There’s a bewildered look on Buck’s face, like he’s just been told the sun revolves around the Earth. He replies in a pinched tone, “Those sound like dates, Eddie.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming up his blood, but before he can stop himself again, Eddie tears down the very last of his carefully constructed barriers, throws them in the trash, and sets them on fire. “Well, if it walks like a date and talks like a date…”

“But… you’re straight.”

Eddie snorts, taking a sip of his beer. “I am well aware of that, Buck.”

“So why do you want to take me on dates?” Buck asks incredulously. “Won’t that make you uncomfortable?”

That makes Eddie sit up straighter, a frown playing on his lips. “I already told you that you being into men changes nothing between us. I meant that.”

“Okay, fine, great. That doesn’t mean you have to start buying me romantic dinners.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Eddie points out. “I want to. At the very least so that you understand what romance really looks like and don’t settle for a dickwad like Tommy ever again.”

Buck frowns. “He wasn’t a dick—”

“He was. And even if he wasn’t, he still wasn’t treating you like you deserved.”

That’s the truth of it all, isn’t it? The reason that Eddie is willing to blur the lines that he has been crafting since the day he met Buck. It’s not that he wants to be the one to take Buck on dates and show him what it means to be loved, but if no one else is going to do it right, then he’ll just have to do it himself.

“What exactly are you proposing, Eddie?” Buck eventually answers in a quiet voice. He looks small despite his enormous stature, curled up on Eddie’s couch like he belongs there.

“One month,” Eddie hears himself say. “Give me one month to show you how you should be treated in a relationship. After that, I’ll trust that you’ll pick someone who deserves you.”

“I know what romance is, Eds,” Buck argues. “I’m a romantic guy—ask any of my ex-girlfriends. Hell, I booked a hot air balloon for Abby once. Do you know how hard it is to book a hot air balloon?”

“You’re used to being romantic,” Eddie corrects. “You’re not used to someone else doing it for you. That’s why you let Tommy get away with whatever sad excuse for romance he was playing at for the last six months.”

Buck looks a bit sad at that, and Eddie feels a bit guilty for coming on so harsh, but he knows it’s for the better. “And you want to help me with that?”

Eddie grins, teeth peeking through his lips. “Who knows you better than me?”

Buck watches him for a moment, gaze flitting across his features, before his eyes flick to the television screen. The movie is nearing its end, with the drama of it in the past and the sunset lighting up a mountain as the main couple reunite in a warm embrace. It looks nice, comfortable. It almost makes Eddie miss having that kind of relationship, even if it never once felt like it looks in this movie, no matter how hard he tried to get it to.

When Buck looks at him again, his eyes are gentle, like waves licking the soft sand on a California beach. His face is bathed in the warm yellow light from the lamp, his cheek resting against the collar of his shirt, and Eddie wonders once again how anyone could ever let him go.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Eds?” Buck asks, gnawing on his lip.

“I’m the one who offered, aren’t I?”

“You’re saying that now, but what if you start and realize how weird it is and then you feel bad about backing out?”

“Then I’ll talk to you about it,” Eddie suggests matter-of-factly, like he hasn’t struggled with talking about his feelings his whole life. Somehow, it’s been less of an issue with Buck. Because Buck is his best friend. “And you have to talk to me, too, if it starts feeling weird for you.”

“Okay,” Buck says finally, after a long minute of silence. “Alright, one month. I’m in.”

Eddie reaches a hand out to shake his, and they both laugh at the ridiculousness of it after what they just agreed to. Buck still looks a bit apprehensive, but Eddie can recognize that glimmer of excitement in his face, even if no one else would be able to, because no one knows him as well as Eddie.

Buck should be excited, because Eddie’s about to knock his socks off. He doesn’t even know what he’s in for.

*

Chapter Text

Eddie wakes up before the sun.

This is not unusual for him. As a kid, he would wake up early to make sure his sisters ate breakfast before school. When he joined the army, it was not only expected, but drilled into him as a basic human function. And when he came home, the nightmares woke him up long before sunlight could strike his eyes.

Today, none of those are the reason for his early rising. Instead, his mind has been replaying the events of the night before over and over again, like a broken record stuck on his favourite song for so long that he can’t stand to hear it anymore.

Was he too pushy last night? He wasn’t trying to force Buck to agree to anything, but the thought of his best friend—the man who has stuck with him through the worst of times and looked after his son like his own—suffering through heartbreak after heartbreak because he picked the wrong people makes him want to scream into his pillow.

And Buck keeps doing it, like he doesn’t even want to find the right person for him. But Eddie knows he does—he knows how badly Buck wants a life with someone. Family, kids, a dog, a picket fence… so why does he settle for less every single time?

Does he think he doesn’t deserve better?

Eddie’s open window still shows darkness outside when he climbs out of bed. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, compounded by a lifetime of exhaustion. His legs ache as he makes his way over to his desk, turns on a lamp, and scrambles for a piece of paper and a pen.

Buck needs to know that he deserves better.

By the time Eddie finishes the letter, his trash can is filled with failed attempts at putting his feelings into words. He’s just not good at this—half the time, he can’t even understand what’s happening in his own brain, and he’s supposed to take that and turn it into something that someone else can understand?

He has to. It’s important.

By the sixth attempt, the words come out easier. He makes sure to pen them carefully, so Buck can make out every word. Each stroke of his pen feels like honesty, and it’s a feeling he’s not familiar with.

He sets down the pen and rereads the letter.

It surprises him, reading his own words. Of course, he’s always known how important Buck is—to him, to Chris, to the life they’ve made here—but seeing it laid out on paper like that makes it even more clear.

When Eddie emerges from his room, Buck is still asleep on the couch, filling the living room with his light snores. His arm is slung over his torso, one leg hanging off the side. He looks wildly uncomfortable, but Eddie knows he loves sleeping on that couch.

The first thing he does is make a fresh cup of coffee with that stupid Hildy machine he doesn’t have the heart to throw out. With the game tonight, they’re going to be out late, and he’s already running on just a few hours of sleep. There’s no way he’s falling asleep on his first date with Buck.

Pretend date with Buck.

The next thing he does is putter around the kitchen for ten whole minutes, trying to figure out where Buck keeps the flour. He should probably know where it is, given it’s his own house, but Eddie’s use of the kitchen is limited to cereal and cold cut sandwiches, neither of which require the use of—he checks the recipe on his phone—all-purpose flour. Is that different from regular flour? What makes it all-purpose?

These are the deep questions that occupy Eddie’s mind as he whips up a moderately successful pancake breakfast. Buck likes pancakes. He tries his best not to make too much noise—Buck doesn’t like being woken up, if his cranky grumbling is an indicator. The only time he never complains is when Christopher wakes him up by pretending to sit on him, as if he didn’t notice the six foot two behemoth of a man lying horizontal on their couch.

Even though it’s been months since Christopher left, Eddie still accidentally sets the table for three. He quietly puts away the third plate.

He’s washing the dishes from cooking when Buck’s snorting finally quiets—he’s awake. Eddie’s nerves fire up again. Buck’s footsteps get louder as he makes his way into the kitchen, and Eddie conjures up a nonchalant expression before turning to face him.

“Morning,” Buck grumbles, voice raw from sleep. His hair is curly and sticking up in every direction, and his jaw is covered in a thin layer of stubble. The muscles in his arm flex as he rubs his eyes. He looks like he could be on the cover of a magazine, quite frankly.

Eddie shifts his weight between feet. “Good morning, Sleepyhead. Want some coffee?”

“Please.”

Eddie sets the coffee in front of him—two sugars and a generous serving of creamer in his favourite World’s Best Firefighter mug that Christopher got him for his birthday.

Buck’s thanks is muffled in a huge gulp of coffee. “This is so good, I could kiss you right now.” His own words take a second to register in his sleep-addled mind, but when they do, his eyes blow wide open. “Uh, not that I would…”

A laugh punches out of Eddie’s mouth. “Buck. This doesn’t have to be weird.”

“How can it not be, though?” Buck points out, rubbing the back of his neck. “This isn’t something friends normally do, is it?”

“I don’t know how they do things in Peru,” Eddie begins, pouring himself a second cup, “but I can confidently say that I’ve never taken a friend on a date before.” He pauses for a second to think. “Well, actually, I didn’t realize my first date with Shannon was a date until she told me, but apart from that.”

“So not the same thing.”

“The point,” Eddie stresses, “is that it’s you and me, Buck. We hardly ever do things the way other people do them.”

“That is a good point,” Buck concedes. “But are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.”

“We were drinking, and I was emotional after the break up. If you’ve changed your mind—”

“I haven’t.”

“Because it’s not just pretending to date me, Eddie. It’s pretending to date a man—”

“Evan,” Eddie manages to get in, his hand falling over Buck’s on the table. Buck’s fingers are warm, and they anxiously twitch against his. “Buck, you’re not just a man. You’re my best friend. Whatever anyone wants to think, I don’t care. Let them talk.”

What he doesn’t say is that this is far from the first time that people are going to think that he and Buck are more than they are. Over the years, he’s lost count of how many times he’s had to correct someone’s assumption that Buck is his boyfriend, or his husband, or Christopher’s other dad. At some point, he just stopped correcting them. It was easier to explain than the truth.

So, going out with Buck in public, pretending to be his… it’s not as new to him as Buck might think.

Buck looks up from his mug. “It’s different when you call me that. Evan, I mean. I don’t know how, but it’s different.”

Eddie has to fight the corners of his mouth from rising. “It’s because I know your actual name, unlike that dumbass ex-boyfriend of yours.”

“Excuse me, you liked him until yesterday.”

“‘Like’ is a very strong word that I am not sure applies in this situation.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “He was literally your friend, first.”

“Well, he’s not anymore.”

Something about the statement must catch Buck off-guard, because he nearly chokes on his coffee. Eddie reaches out to pat him on the back as he sputters, “What do you mean not anymore?”

Eddie shrugs. “I mean I blocked his number the minute you told me that he dumped you.”

“Eddie,” Buck says urgently. “You don’t have to cut him off just because we broke up.”

“I can assure you, Buck, that I have absolutely no interest in staying in touch with him.”

“But you guys were close—”

“I’m about as close with Tommy as I am Gerrard,” Eddie explains patiently. “We haven’t hung out without you in months.”

“Oh,” Buck replies simply. His lips are parted, dry until his tongue darts out across them. He meets Eddie’s eyes, and his expression is a cross between surprise and satisfaction.

Buck’s hand shifts, which is what makes Eddie realize that he’s still half-holding it. He pulls his hand away, clearing his throat. “You should eat something, Buck.”

It’s only then that Buck seems to register the display of food on the table. He squints at the pancakes, picking one up with his fork to check the bottom—which is absolutely not burned, by the way. “You cooked.”

“I did.”

“Yeah, but, why did you cook?” Buck asks, confused. “I usually cook.”

“And you picked the least obvious place to keep the flour, by the way.”

“It’s literally with the baking stuff,” he argues. “That’s, like, the most obvious place to keep it.”

Eddie grimaces. “Pancakes are not baking, and yet you still need flour for pancakes.”

“That’s why it’s called ‘all-purpose’ flour. It has multiple purposes."

“Oh,” Eddie declares, finally having an answer to his question. “Where were you an hour ago? That’s been bugging me all morning.”

“Google exists, you freak.”

“Yeah, but why would I google something when I have you?” Eddie grins, stealing a blueberry off Buck’s plate.

Buck swats his hand away. “Stop stealing my food and let me try it.”

“Okay, but if it’s not good—”

“It’s good.”

“You haven’t even taken a bite yet.”

Buck stuffs a huge forkful of pancake into his mouth and says around it, “Iff goo’.”

“Gross. Close your mouth when you eat.”

Buck swallows the food and grins wide enough that his teeth show. “You’re so strict, Eddie.”

“Christopher would pick up so many bad habits from you if I let him,” Eddie chides, grabbing a napkin and dabbing it on the corner of Buck’s mouth to wipe away some syrup. His hand stills as he realizes what he’s doing—he can’t even use the excuse of the experiment, because he was running on pure instinct. His face is close enough to Buck’s that he can see the flecks of green in his blue eyes, shimmering as light from the morning sun hits them just right.

Wow.

Buck’s hand slowly comes up and takes the napkin from him. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie replies, sitting back in his chair. “You had, uh, syrup…”

“Right, it was, uh, sticky.” Buck winces, wiping his mouth with the napkin again. “Thanks.”

They fall into a somewhat tense silence, which lasts all of a few seconds before Buck breaks it. “These are actually really good,” he says, gesturing to the pancakes. He pulls out his phone and snaps a few pictures, explaining, “Proof for Chris that you’re finally capable of making a decent stack.”

“Maybe that’ll be enough motivation for him to come back.” It’s meant to be a lighthearted joke, but it falls flat. Besides, it’s Buck—Buck knows.

His voice is soft when he speaks. “He’s going to come back.”

“Eventually.”

“Soon.”

Time doesn’t mean much to Eddie, anymore. He only really notices it anymore in how different his son looks each time they video call. He’s taller than when he left. His hair is getting longer. He’s starting to look like a teenager.

Eddie’s not there to see it except through a phone screen.

The atmosphere is lighter as they finish their breakfast, filled with their signature easy banter. He knows that if Buck wasn’t here, his train of thought would lead to a downward spiral, but it’s easier to stay afloat when he’s around. Buck’s a life vest in a world full of anvils.

When he stands to wash their plates, Eddie stops him. “Let me.”

“You made breakfast. At least let me wash the dishes.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You’re being wooed, remember?”

A light pink blush spreads across Buck’s cheeks. “Right. How could I forget?”

“Yeah, how could you? Maybe I’m not doing a good enough job,” he jokes, at which Buck rolls his eyes as he heads to the living room.

He thinks he hears Buck mutter, “You’re doing just fine,” on his way out, but he can’t be too sure.

Once he’s finished with the dishes, Eddie joins Buck on the couch. He’s watching the new episode of Hotshots, making a face every time they do something unrealistic. “How do they keep getting away with this?”

“Beats me,” Eddie replies. “It’s so obviously fake.”

Buck frowns. “I think they’re filming an episode with helicopters or something, because I’ve been hearing them from my apartment every night this week. All night, while I’m trying to sleep.”

“So crash here until they’re done.”

“I don’t know how long that’ll be.”

Eddie shrugs. “I like having you around.”

Buck’s surprised expression morphs into a content smile. “Yeah?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Buck.”

“I’m not,” he mutters, the grin on his face never once fading. Buck really does like being told he’s appreciated, even from Eddie, who had assumed his affection for Buck was a well-established truth.

Well, that just makes this whole experiment a lot easier.

Eddie angles his body to face Buck. “If I say something, do you promise not to take it personally?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“As in, you won’t take it personally, or you won’t promise not to?”

Buck groans. “Just say what you want to say, Eddie.”

“I want you to go home.”

Hurt flashes across his face, and Eddie immediately regrets how he phrased that. Shit. Maybe he really should stick to only writing things down instead of saying them out loud.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” he correct frantically. “I want to pick you up from your door.”

“Like, tonight?” Buck asks, the distress slowly ebbing from his expression, replaced by disbelief.

“Yes, tonight. For our date.”

“Oh. That’s why you want me to go home.”

Eddie winces. “Just for a bit. So I can do the whole romance thing right.”

Buck’s face flushes even deeper than before. “Oh, god. You’re such a dork.”

“I am not a dork.” Eddie pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Whatever, forget it.”

“No, no,” Buck insists, grabbing his arm to manually uncross them. “I’ll go home. I want you to pick me up at my door. I think it’s sweet.”

Eddie exhales. “Okay, good, then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

When Buck meets his eyes after that, they both devolve into a fit of giggles—because, yeah, it is kind of ridiculous.

But there, in that moment, laughing with Buck on his couch, Eddie feels freer than he thinks he ever has in his life.

*

“Do guys like flowers?”

Eddie is sitting cross-legged on his couch, holding his phone up to his face. He’s already dressed in his nicest henley and jeans, and there’s a piece of paper tucked securely in his pocket.

Christopher pulls a face through the phone screen. “What kind of question is that?”

Hey, at least he has the kid’s attention.

Eddie waves off his concern. “I’m just wondering if guys like flowers. And if they do, what kind of flowers?”

“Dad, did someone buy you flowers?” the kid asks, looking far too confused. “Do you have another girlfriend?”

“Okay, first of all, no girlfriend,” Eddie begins. He is definitely not going to have a girlfriend for the foreseeable future. “Second of all, if I did, I would tell you right away. No more secrets.”

“Yeah, I know, dad.”

No more secrets is easier said than done. Because now, is he supposed to tell Christopher about his non-date date with Buck tonight? Surely that would only confuse him. But that’s also what he thought about the whole Kim situation, and that literally could not have ended worse.

Eddie musters up every ounce of courage in his body. “But, in the spirit of no more secrets, there is something I have to tell you.”

Christopher sighs. “What is it?”

“The flowers would be for Buck.”

A moment passes—quite possibly one of the scariest of his life—before Christopher responds. “Buck likes sunflowers.”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth turn up. “I thought he might.”

“He thinks it's cool how they grow in the direction of the sun,” Chris continues. “I forget what that’s called, though.”

“Maybe you could ask Buck?” Eddie offers. He knows Buck and Chris haven’t been talking much, collateral damage from the whole Texas situation. “I’m sure he would love to hear from you, mijo.”

Christopher shuffles uncomfortably. “Are you dating Buck, now?”

“No,” Eddie says truthfully. “Not really. I’m just trying to do nice things for him, because he’s sad.”

“Why is Buck sad?”

“He and Tommy broke up.” Eddie’s not sure he should be telling Christopher this, since it’s Buck’s news to share, but he did promise to be honest with him.

He doesn’t expect Christopher to start giggling. “Oh, good.”

“Christopher Diaz!”

“Sorry, dad.” Christopher has the decency to look apologetic. “I just don’t like him.”

Eddie can’t exactly fault his son for that. He pretends to look around conspiratorially, bringing the phone closer to his face. “You know what, kiddo? Me neither.”

Christopher’s face sombers. “I’m not happy that Buck is sad, though.”

“Yeah,” Eddie echoes. “Me neither.”

“You should get him a lot of sunflowers. As many as they have.”

“I promise. Cross my heart.” Even though Christopher is too old for this, Eddie still makes a show of crossing his chest. It still manages a smile from the kid.

He chats with Chris for as long as his son will allow, asking about every aspect of his life, from school to his grandparents to life in Texas. He’s not certain, but he thinks he sees Christopher falter when he asks if he likes living there. It’s enough to plant a seed of hope in Eddie. It’s enough to go another day without getting in his car and driving twelve hours to hold the kid in his arms and never let him go again.

When he hangs up, he gets in his car and drives straight to the nearest flower shop instead. He has to look it up on Google, because he hasn’t bought flowers for anyone in a long time. Never for Marisol, he’s ashamed to admit. Maybe once or twice for Ana back in the day. It’s a thought that never crossed his mind.

True to his word, he buys every last sunflower in the store.

The florist wraps them up nicely in brown paper and secures it with a blue ribbon. Eddie picks it out when she asks him for a colour—it matches Buck’s eyes. She asks him if it’s for a date. He says yes. He tucks the piece of paper from his pocket between two flowers.

Then he drives to Buck’s loft with the bouquet on his passenger seat.

Buck opens the door on the first knock. He’s wearing a nice shirt, too. His hair is freshly washed, and his skin is flushed like he just got out of a steaming shower. He smells like soap and woodsy cologne—strangely enough, Eddie finds he likes it more than the smell of sweet, fruity florals he typically encounters on a date.

Buck’s eyes are immediately drawn to the comically large bouquet in Eddie’s hands. “Eddie…”

He shoves it towards Buck. “You look nice.”

The man’s ears turn bright red as he accepts the flowers. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s romantic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Buck says breathily. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers before, at least when I’m not in a hospital bed. Did you know most men get their first bouquet of flowers at their funeral?”

Eddie ignores him, more focused on his first sentence. “I should have known that Tommy never got them for you.”

“It’s not like I got them for him, either.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t deserve them,” Eddie mutters.

“And I do?”

“Yeah, Buck. You do.”

Buck is quiet, for once—the declaration must have left him speechless. He presses his face into the bouquet, lets out a quiet sigh, and finally says, “I’m gonna go ahead and guess that this is why Christopher texted me out of nowhere asking about heliotropism."

“I may have phoned a friend.”

Buck’s expression is so soft that it might melt him. “He texted me, Eds.”

Eddie can’t hide his smile anymore. It stretches all the way across his face. “I know.”

When Buck starts to examine the flowers, he finally notices the paper buried between the stems. His mouth falls open as he plucks it out. “What is this?”

“Read it.”

Eddie knows what the letter says, probably could recite it from heart, but he still peaks over Buck’s shoulder as his eyes skim the words on the page.

Dear Buck, the note reads in messy handwriting attempting to look neat. It turns out that once I knew you were an idiot, I grew quite fond of you, which was obviously the day we met. Only an idiot would be so rude to the very handsome new guy in his fire station (me). I think you’re the second best thing that’s ever happened to me—after Christopher, of course. But I’m pretty sure Chris is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, too, so you can’t be mad about that.

Eyes stinging, Buck looks up at Eddie and glares at him. “Obviously, Chris is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t be stupid.”

Eddie waves him off. “Keep reading.”

It continues, I kind of suck at talking about my feelings, which I’m sure you’ve noticed. But what I’m trying to say is that you’re like the North Star. You’re always standing still when everything else is spiralling away from me, and I use you to find my way back. So, like, thanks for that, dude. I appreciate it. —Eddie Diaz

Buck’s fingers tightly grip the edges of the paper. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Eddie wishes he could read Buck’s mind, because for once, he can’t tell what he’s thinking. "Is it too much?"

Buck doesn’t respond right away, reading over the words again, and then again, and then again. When he meets Eddie’s eyes, his eyes are filled with tears, making them look even bluer than before, if that’s even possible.

Eddie’s instinct is to pull back—apologize for making Buck cry, take it all back, dial it down in the future. But he knows Buck better than that. He just needs a minute to process.

Sure enough, Buck closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and the tears are gone. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, holding the letter close to his chest. “This means a lot to me. And you don’t suck at talking about your feelings.”

Maybe Buck’s right. There is never going to be a time when Eddie is capable of saying everything that weighs on him, but maybe he’s gotten to a point where he’s able to say the major things.

“You are important, Buck,” Eddie hears himself say. And that’s definitely a major thing. “I need you to know that. I don’t know everything about your past relationships, but I do know that they should have tried harder to make you realize that.”

You’re not expendable.

Buck shakes his head and lets out a wet laugh. “You’re really knocking this experiment out of the park, Eds.”

Right, the experiment.

If Eddie’s being totally honest, which he’s trying to be, he’d all but forgotten about that.

He checks his watch. “Speaking of which, we should head out soon. I thought we could hit up the bar before the game.”

“Yeah, sounds good, man. Should we call an Uber?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’ll drive, but we should take your car. It’ll be easier to park at the arena.”

“You came all the way here just to pick me up, but we’re taking my car?” Buck teases, handing over the keys nonetheless. “What happened to Romantic Eddie?”

“I just offered to drive in downtown L.A. during a major sporting event. It doesn’t get more romantic than that.”

“You know what, fair enough.”

Before they leave, Buck pulls out his phone and snaps a photo of the sunflowers. He turns the phone towards Eddie so he can see the screen, which is open to his conversation chain with Christopher, and attaches the picture to a text.

Heliotropism isn’t only a behaviour found in plants, the message reads. Some animals also exhibit a tendency to move toward light. Me, I’ll always move toward you and your dad.

Eddie’s eyes are still blurry when he pulls out of Buck’s driveway.

*

Chapter Text

Ever since he was a kid, the only constant in Buck’s life has been that he feels like too much. Too much for his parents to deal with, because what other reason could they have for not loving their own kid? Too much for the friends he made wandering between cities, because they never kept in touch. Too much for the girls he slept with, because they never wanted more from him. Too much for Tommy, because he had to make up some excuse to dump him as fast as possible.

And yet here he is, receiving a bouquet of his favourite flowers and getting picked up from his front door, and these actions are screaming in every way that he’s in fact not too much.

Eddie is going so far out of his way to do something nice for Buck in a way that he’s not quite sure he’s ever experienced, and completely of his own volition. Buck never asked for him to do any of this; he never could have come up with such an insane idea.

And yet here he is, at an overpriced sports bar with walnut tables and dim lighting, sitting across from Eddie on a Friday night. Which is not out of the ordinary in itself, except that it’s… well, a date, for all intents and purposes.

“Can I get you boys anything?” asks a pretty waitress, her curly hair held up in a ponytail. She twirls the ends of it flirtily, her eyes skipping between him and Eddie. Buck 1.0 probably would have flirted back, but today he hardly registers her. He’s too busy looking at something else.

Eddie is still looking down at the menu, his face screwed up in concentration. “What do you recommend?” he asks her. His hand brushes along the stubble on his jaw, and a strand of dark hair falls over his brown eyes.

She rattles off the specials. Buck is only half-listening. Eddie places his order and turns to Buck expectantly. Oh, shit—he hasn’t even glanced at the menu yet. Tommy used to order for both of them on dates, and Buck would just go along with it; he likes all food, after all, so there was no need to be picky.

Eddie isn’t deterred, simply glancing back down at the menu. “Are you still craving a veggie burger? Or I know you’ve been wanting to try the smoked wings…”

“Our smoked wings are excellent,” the waitress adds.

“I’ll go with those,” Buck decides, handing her the menu. Instinctively, he flashes her a bright smile, the kind that used to get him numbers written on napkins. Her eyes widen, and she stumbles on her way back to the kitchen, and Buck goes back to observing.

Eddie is fiddling with the collar of his shirt. He tugs it away from his body, as if overheating—which he shouldn’t be, given the bar has decent air conditioning and there’s a vent right beside them. Hopefully he’s not running a fever. He does look a bit flushed.

“She was nice,” Eddie says, gaze drifting towards where she walked off. “And pretty.”

Buck frowns. Of course, he noticed her giving Eddie bedroom eyes, but he hadn’t seemed interested in her advances at all. But it’s not an actual date, so it’s fine if Eddie wants to get the waitress’s number. It’s totally, 100%, absolutely okay.

“Yeah, man, she was hot. You should ask her out.”

Eddie blinks at him in confusion. “I should ask her out?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“I’m pretty sure she was flirting with you.” Eddie’s jaw tightens as he manages to get the words out. “Besides, I wouldn’t do that.”

Buck lifts an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t ask for a pretty girl’s number?”

“Not if I’m on a date with someone else.” Eddie’s brown eyes lock with his, and Buck can immediately tell he’s being dead serious.

His mouth goes dry. “You don’t have to hold yourself back on my account.”

Eddie shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “I take my duties as your pseudo-boyfriend very seriously, Buck.”

Oh.

Buck clears his throat. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t interested in her either.”

Inexplicably, Eddie looks pleasantly surprised. “Well, that’s good, because you’re here with me.”

Buck suddenly feels a bit lightheaded.

Tommy was never bothered by women hitting on Buck. At the time, he wasn’t sure exactly why that bothered him so much. He should have been happy that his boyfriend wasn’t threatened by other people. Now, he thinks he knows why—it’s hard to care about others trying to take what’s yours when you don’t actually care enough to fight for it.

But Eddie wants Buck all to himself tonight, and that feels really, really good.

“So, do I need to explain the rules of basketball to you?” Eddie asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, completely unaware of Buck’s rampant internal dialogue.

Buck manages to roll his eyes. “I know how to play basketball, dick.”

“Hey,” Eddie replies, clicking his tongue. “We are on a date. You should be nice to me.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that. Was it in the terms and conditions?”

“You are such a smartass.”

“Now who’s not being nice?”

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Eddie responds, ignoring his question. “For the next month, in the spirit of this experiment, we can no longer call each other ‘dick’ or ‘ass.’”

Buck hums, deep in thought. “Have you ever wondered why so many insults are related to genitals? Those are the most fun body parts, too.”

Eddie’s chest begins to shake with how hard he’s holding in his laughter. Buck isn’t sure why until he looks up and notices that their waitress has come back with their food just in time to hear his comment. She sets the dishes down wordlessly, opening her mouth as if to ask something before changing her mind and walking away from their table.

Well, that was embarrassing. Tommy probably would have yelled at him for a scene like that.

Buck glances at Eddie. “I guess neither of us was getting her number anyway.”

That bursts the proverbial dam, because Eddie starts laughing too loudly to be socially acceptable. He grips his chest, tears running down his cheeks, and Buck joins in with the same level of mirth. Eventually, they both calm down enough that the whole bar isn’t staring at them anymore, but they’re still caught up in their own little bubble as they eat dinner.

Buck knows they have a whole month left, but he thinks he’s already getting the point of this experiment. If this one night with Eddie is how a relationship is supposed to feel, then Buck has never had a real relationship. Buck has never been in love, because he’s never felt like this before. But the thing is that he’s not quite sure romantic love is all it’s jacked up to be, because the way he feels with Eddie, with his best friend—he can’t quite imagine anything ever topping that.

And yet, despite it being all he’s ever wanted, Buck thinks he might just be okay with never falling in love if he gets to have Eddie in his life like this.

Eddie glances at his watch as they finish up their meals. “Shit, we’re running behind schedule.”

“Let me get the check,” Buck responds, locating the waitress hovering near their table and calling out for her. She hurries over to them, looking understandably apprehensive, and asks how she can help.

Buck’s about to ask for the check when Eddie hands her his credit card. “We’ll close out, thanks. And please give yourself a generous tip, as an apology for my boyfriend’s potty mouth.”

My boyfriend. My boyfriend. My boyfriend.

Buck thinks his brain might have just short-circuited. The waitress startles at the word, too, eyes darting between them in realization. She doesn’t say anything, thankfully, simply taking Eddie’s card and hurrying to the back for the machine.

Eddie must notice him staring, because he looks suddenly sheepish. “It just slipped out.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Buck responds. “Technically, it’s true. For the next month, at least.”

“Right,” Eddie says slowly. He doesn’t say another word until she comes back with his card and the receipt. He glances at the tip line and snorts, turning the page towards Buck. “Look what your jokes cost me.”

“I’ll pay you back,” he says instinctively. Tommy used to be a stickler about who paid—he liked things to be even. Said it was easier that way with two guys, so neither felt like the woman. Buck never said anything, but he didn’t exactly appreciate that comment.

Eddie waves him off. “You are not paying for anything tonight.”

“I appreciate what you’re doing, Eddie, but I’m happy to even be spending time with you. You really don’t have to pay for everything.”

“What if I want to?” Eddie points out. Buck stills.

The thing is, he understands what Eddie means. In his past relationships, he’s always liked buying things for his partners and taking care of them. It never felt like a chore or a responsibility—it’s just in his nature. And yet he’s never even considered that someone could want to do that for him, too. But Eddie does.

“Okay,” Buck says simply. “Thank you.”

Eddie nods in satisfaction. “Come on, let’s head out. We need to leave soon if we’re going to get to the arena on time.”

They make it outside the bar, stumbling into the humid L.A. air side-by-side with the pleasant tingle of laughter still in their chests, when they run into somewhat of an obstacle.

Buck groans. “Please tell me there is not a boot on my tire right now.”

“There is not a boot on your tire right now,” Eddie lies.

“There’s not enough time left. We’re not gonna make the game,” he rants, pacing anxiously along the sidewalk next to his car. Buck is frustrated and panicked, and it’s only made worse by the heat and overstimulation. “Fuck, I knew I should’ve paid those parking tickets...”

“Okay, we will be returning to the topic of the unpaid parking tickets—”

“The website is confusing, Eddie!”

Eddie shakes his head fondly. “I will show you how to pay them when we get home, but let’s not freak out right now. Can we call an Uber?”

Oh, right. A logical solution. Buck can do that. He pulls out his phone and opens the Uber app, fingers sliding across the screen as he types in the address for the arena.

Uber X • 30 minutes away

“Are you joking?”

Eddie winces. “Okay, yeah, it’s probably from traffic because of the game.”

Buck sighs, plopping himself down to sit on the curb. He hugs his knees and rests his head between them. He can feel Eddie sit down next to him, close enough that their thighs brush, and a warm hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“No,” he says into his knees. He sounds defeated, even to his own ears. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. Tell me.”

“I just,” Buck begins, feeling a flush begin to creep up the back of his neck, “I really wanted tonight to go perfectly, for some reason. I know it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.”

“It’s not even a real date,” he continues. “And I don’t even like basketball, and it’s not like there should be any pressure! I mean, it’s you and me, Eddie. We literally spend all our time together.”

“Buck,” Eddie stresses, squeezing his shoulder. “You broke up with your boyfriend of six months yesterday. He was supposed to take you on this date. It’s okay if you’re feeling some type of way about it.”

And that just feels… wrong. Because Buck is not upset about Tommy not being the one to take him on this date. In fact, the only times he’s thought about Tommy tonight have been to compare him to Eddie (spoiler alert: he’s lost every time).

But there’s no other explanation for the way Buck is feeling right now, so he simply nods and plays along. “I guess that’s what it is. I’m still trying to process the breakup.”

“So, you know what? We’re not going to let the night end here. We’re going to that game, and we’re going to have a blast without Tommy.”

“How are we going to do that? There’s a boot on my tire, Eddie.”

“Where’s your spare?”

“In the trunk. Why?” Buck asks, but Eddie is already on his feet and hauling the trunk open.

His best friend grins at him. “I’m gonna change the tire.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Watch me.”

So he does.

Eddie rolls his sleeves up above his elbows, showing off the tattoo on his forearm. His muscles flex as he jacks the car up. Buck can’t help but appreciate how much stronger he’s gotten in the last few years—the long nights in the firehouse gym when they couldn’t sleep, the trips to the zoo when they’d carry Christopher if he was in pain from walking. The strength that comes from living a full, happy life.

True to his word, Buck watches, entranced. Five minutes later, the spare is on, they’re driving down the road, and the old tire is sitting on the side of the curb, boot still on.

Eddie grins at him from the driver’s seat. “I told you we’d make it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too cocky.”

“I don’t know, I think what I did back there was pretty badass,” Eddie says, flexing his bicep with one hand as he drives.

Buck snorts and pushes his arm down. “Okay, Captain America, hands on the wheel. I want to make it to this game alive.”

Eddie’s face screws up. “I have much bigger muscles than Steve Rogers.”

A surprised laugh escapes Buck, and he presses his lips together to stop it. “I didn’t know you had this pettiness in you, Eddie.”

“Really? Because I don’t try to hide it.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m just biased,” Buck responds without thinking. Eddie looks over at him, surprised, but doesn’t say anything. Buck flushes under his gaze. “Eyes on the road, Diaz.”

Eddie does as requested, but the smile on his lips doesn’t fade for the rest of the drive.

*

New development: Buck might like basketball.

Okay, no, he doesn’t. It’s frankly quite boring, and the players look goofy waving their arms around like that. But he knows that Eddie loves basketball, and watching Eddie enjoy things and have fun is so much better than watching a sport he actually likes.

So what if he’s technically supposed to be looking at the game and not his best friend?

The issue arises near the end of the match, with just one quarter left. They’re on the last break, and everyone in the stadium is getting pretty riled up with how close the game is, Eddie included. Of course, there’s only one way to entertain an agitated group of sports fans while they wait for the last minutes of the game to resume. Quite possibly the most embarrassing invention of mankind—the kiss cam.

It starts off innocent. An elderly couple, excited to be on screen, share a cute little smooch. A woman and man who seem to not know each other suck it up and touch lips for the camera. Another pair shake their heads, with the woman mouthing ‘he’s my brother!’ at the audience, who all join in on the laughter, and the camera quickly moves on.

To Buck and Eddie, who are sitting right next to them.

It takes Buck a minute to notice what’s happening because, unsurprisingly, he’s too busy watching Eddie to see their faces on the big screen. Eddie’s reactions to the kiss cam are kind of adorable, actually—he tries to hide it, but he gets this soft look on his face when the couples look particularly in love. Except this time, his best friend’s face does not display that soft expression, but rather one that can only be described as terrified.

Of course, this means Buck is terrified—for a split second, his mind fills with the worst possible scenarios. Was Eddie having chest pains again? Or did Eddie get a text that someone they love was hurt? Was it Christopher?

But then he looks up, and the momentary panic is gone, but it’s replaced by quite possibly the worst feeling he’s ever felt in his life.

That terror on Eddie’s face? That came from the thought of kissing Buck.

It’s only made worse by the loud chanting from the onlookers in the sold out arena, chanting, “Kiss! Kiss!” at the top of their lungs like they have no idea that they’re on the verge of ruining Buck’s life.

Eddie doesn’t move. He doesn’t turn to kiss Buck, not even on the cheek like some friends do when they get caught on the cam together. He doesn’t laugh it off or give the camera a cheeky shake of his head. He doesn’t even look at Buck, eyes locked on the screen like he physically cannot tear them away.

He knows Eddie is straight, but is he really that horrified at the thought of kissing Buck?

Not that Buck ever expected Eddie to kiss him. But he’s spent the whole night existing in his own head, in this wild fantasy of what a perfect date would be like—where he was wanted, where Eddie wanted him. But right here, right now, it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head, shocking him back into reality.

Buck has to do something, because the camera is still in their faces and the crowd is just getting louder and louder. He can’t just sit here, struck by the painful realization that he’s just been rejected by Eddie without even trying to have him. So, he turns on his Buckley charm, musters up a dazzling smile, and blows a kiss at the camera.

If they want a show, he'll give them a show.

It works, because the chanting turns into cheering, and he’s pretty sure he hears a girl a few rows down from him shout her Instagram handle. It’s nothing he’s not used to—he’s grown accustomed to this kind of attention. Except it’s not what he wants anymore, and all it does is make that sinking feeling in his chest grow stronger.

Eddie seems to come out of his stupor, shifting uncomfortably in the hard plastic seat. The camera moves on, and no one is looking at them anymore, and Buck keeps trying to catch Eddie’s eye, to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t blame him, that he understands—but Eddie won’t look at him.

Time passes slowly. He can’t remember if their team won or lost. He can’t remember getting into the passenger seat of his car or Eddie pulling out of the arena. He’s so lost in his own thoughts that he’s only pulled back when Eddie finally speaks. “Do you want to stay over tonight?”

Buck shakes his head immediately. “Maddie’s stopping by for breakfast before work tomorrow, so I should go home.” Lie.

“Alright, I’ll drop you off.”

After beating the post-game traffic, which extends to basically the whole city, they pull into the loft’s parking lot. Wordlessly, Eddie follows him up the stairs to his apartment and waits as Buck unlocks the front door.

Buck glances back at him. “You coming in?”

“No. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Despite himself, Buck lets out a laugh. “I’m a big strong man, Eddie. I can take care of myself.”

“You can,” Eddie admits easily, his eyes sparkling in the overhead lighting of the hallway.

And yet you drove me home and walked me to my door.

Speaking of which, Eddie reaches into his pocket and hands the car keys to Buck. "Thanks for letting me drive you around," he murmurs, a hint of mirth in his tone. It brings a sense of relief to Buck, a feeling that they might just be okay after all, no matter what happened tonight. 

"No problem," Buck replies, fingers brushing Eddie's as he takes the keys. It feels like a current zipping through him at breakneck speed. Pulling his hand away like he's been burned, he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and clears his throat. "Uh, it was... kind of nice, being in the passenger seat for once."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks curiously, tilting his head to the side. 

"Yeah, I like driving too, but it's nice to shut off my brain sometimes." It's not entirely true—his brain had been firing like a gun range the whole drive home. But the ride to the game had been nice, a quiet distractedness taking over him as he'd stared out the window, knowing he was safe with Eddie at the wheel.

Eddie hums. “Can I drive you to work tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he says decisively. “I want to.”

And that's what Eddie has been trying to tell him all day, isn't it? That he wants to be around Buck? That Buck's presence is not a burden to him? That he wants to do things for him? It's an unusual feeling for Buck, who has never felt so cared for in his life, to whom second nature is to beg for morsels of affection.

He swallows, nodding. “I was gonna follow you home after our shift anyway, right?”

That is the first thing that’s made Eddie smile since the game. He seems relieved, letting out a heavy exhale as he accepts the keys from Buck. “Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’ll be the guy in the LAFD shirt,” Buck jokes half-heartedly. Eddie cracks a smile nonetheless. Buck can’t help but ache for that smile to stay on his face forever. He clears his throat, suddenly nervous. “We’re good, right? You’re not mad at me?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Mad at you?”

“I swear, I completely forgot there was going to be a kiss cam,” Buck explains, for once diving headfirst into a conversation he wants to avoid. This is too important to run away from—Eddie is too important. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I saw your face, Eds.”

Eddie winces. “Okay, maybe I was a bit uncomfortable, but it wasn’t because of you. There were just so many people, and they were basically screaming at us to kiss, and it was just—”

“A lot?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I don’t like being backed into a corner.”

Oh. Buck should have seen the signs—Eddie has already expressed discomfort with intimacy in the past, so obviously he wouldn’t like being forced into a position where he was being pressured to kiss his best friend (a man) in front of thousands of people.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says, ashamed. He should never have put Eddie in that position in the first place. He should have been paying more attention and shut the whole thing down before it had the chance to make Eddie feel bad. He never wants anything to make Eddie feel bad.

Buck's gaze is fixed firmly on the floor. That is, until a finger hooks under his chin, forcing him to look up at Eddie.

When he does, Eddie’s doe brown eyes are staring at him with such intensity that it makes it hard to breathe. “Still, I told you I was taking my job seriously, and then I went and left you hanging.”

“Eddie—” Buck says, his voice a mixture of warning and incredulity. It says, you don’t have to do this, but if you want to…

Eddie must understand, because the finger under his chin becomes a hand cupping his cheek, and the next thing his brain registers is the feeling of Eddie’s lips.

They’re warm, fervent, and the slightest bit chapped.

And they’re pressed against his.

Buck can feel the blood pooling in his cheeks and ears, burning hot beneath his skin, like he’s about to catch on fire. He’s never felt like this before, like sparks are running across his body, like he’s a livewire conducting electricity.

It’s only a few seconds before Eddie pulls away. A quick kiss, and yet it feels like the world is tilting on its axis below him.

Eddie’s hand is still hot against his cheek. He brushes a thumb across Buck’s bottom lip.

“Goodnight, Buck,” Eddie says. Then, he takes a step back, turns on his heels, and walks down the hall, disappearing out of sight.

Buck slips into his apartment, closes the door behind him, and slides down it until he’s a pile of limbs on the floor.

*

Chapter Text

“Eddie kissed me.”

The kitchen clock ticks loudly in the pin-drop silence. Buck nervously bounces his leg against the table, looking anywhere but at his sister. He doesn’t need to look at her to know what her face looks like. She’s probably thinking he’s delusional, that he’s officially lost his mind and needs to be committed.

Truth be told, Buck hardly believes it himself. Who’s to say that the kiss wasn’t a dream? Except he’s not quite confident in his mind’s ability to create a feeling like he felt when Eddie kissed him, because that was beyond anything he’s ever felt in his life. That fierce, all-consuming fire...

Still, he wishes Eddie hadn’t done it, because now it’s all he can think about.

Buck spent the whole night tossing and turning, like he was buzzing out of his own skin, unable to lie still, unable to fall asleep, unable to shut it off. The thought of Eddie occupied his mind. The sun rose in the east, and Buck was thinking about Eddie. The shower burned his skin as he got under the stream, and Buck was thinking about Eddie. The french press finished brewing, and Buck was thinking about Eddie.

An hour and a knock at his front door later, there’s still only one thing on his mind.

“He kissed you?” Maddie repeats. She doesn’t sound surprised, weirdly enough—more curious. “Like, on the lips?”

“We’re not in middle school, Maddie. Yes, he kissed me on the lips.”

“Sorry, I just need a minute to process this.” She rubs her temples, and he can see the cogs turning in her head. “So, are you guys together now?”

Buck blinks at her in confusion. “Why would we be together? Eddie’s straight.”

“You just told me that he kissed you.”

“Yeah, platonically.”

“You cannot be—” She cuts herself off with a sharp exhale, pinching between her eyebrows. “Buck, he kissed you.”

“Because he felt bad about the kiss cam!”

“Are you going around kissing people because you feel bad?” Buck opens his mouth to respond, and Maddie simply holds up a hand to stop him. “Actually, don’t answer that. I have a feeling the answer will make me sad.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, and yet as he’s saying the words, they feel disingenuous. It would be more accurate to say—what was it that Eddie said to him?—that this changes nothing between them. Eddie is still his best friend. Eddie is still straight. Eddie is not in love with Buck.

Maddie reaches out and places a hand over his. Her hands are soft and comforting. Ever since he was a kid, he’s always thought that this might be what a mother’s touch is supposed to feel like. “Buck, I really don’t know about this whole thing,” she says. “I’m sure Eddie means well, but if he really is straight, don’t you think he’s leading you on a little bit? Taking you out on dates, kissing you...”

“He can’t be leading me on. I’m not in love with him.”

“I never said you were.”

Buck shakes his head. “Look, this is not that. Eddie’s not using me, and I’m not hopelessly pining for my straight best friend.”

Nobody understands him and Eddie. They’re not like other best friends. This is just what they do—be there for each other in ways that might seem strange to other people. They’re special to each other. That doesn’t mean Buck is in love with him. His sister just doesn’t understand that.

Maddie watches his face, inspecting him like when he was a kid and she was trying to figure out if he ate the last cupcake by the crumbs around his mouth. Then, she asks, “But what if Eddie wasn’t straight? Would that change anything?”

If Eddie wasn’t straight—

An awkward laugh punches out of Buck’s throat. “He’s, like, the straightest guy I’ve ever met.”

Maddie levels him with an incredulous stare before shaking her head. “Forget that for one second. What if he told you tomorrow that he was gay or bisexual or whatever? What would you do?”

The question makes his stomach feel uneasy. He shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea, right? It feels like a violation to be thinking about Eddie like that. Eddie doesn’t like men. Eddie just kissed him because it was part of the experiment. Eddie just wanted to be a good friend.

Bucks shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I... I don’t know, Maddie, why does it matter?”

Noticing his discomfort, her expression softens, and she squeezes his hand. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t,” he stresses, feeling like he’s a teenager being lectured. “Can we please just drop this?”

“Okay, but... be careful, please.”

“There’s nothing to be careful about,” Buck says. “It’s Eddie we’re talking about.”

Maddie glances at the bouquet of sunflowers currently taking up residence in a vase in the centre of his dining table. She reaches out and skims her fingers along one of the petals. “Be careful, Evan.”

“Maddie, I—”

The sound of knocking at his front door cuts off whatever was about to come out of his mouth—which could have been anything, because he doesn’t tend to think before he speaks. Maddie glances at him knowingly. “Is that Eddie?”

“Yeah, he’s picking me up for our shift,” Buck says, getting up to answer it. He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. It’ll be the first time he’s seen Eddie since the kiss. Is it going to be weird when he opens this door? Is this going to change things between them, even if that’s the last thing he wants? How is he supposed to look Eddie in the eyes when he knows how his lips taste?

When he musters up the courage to open the door, Eddie is standing outside in a soft henley and jeans. The sight of him alone is enough to ease his mind. It can’t be Buck’s fault that he enjoyed that kiss as much as he did when Eddie is on his doorstep looking like that. He’s undeniably handsome, the kind of movie star look that makes people trip over their own feet. And it’s Eddie, under it all.

“Hey,” Eddie says, nodding in greeting with his hands tucked into his pockets. He looks tired, the bags under his eyes deeper than usual, but there’s an easy smile on his face as he looks at Buck.

“Hi,” Buck replies. He’s not sure exactly what to say. Address the elephant in the room? Pretend everything is normal? He shifts his weight between feet awkwardly.

Eddie’s eyes flick upwards, and his grin widens. “I thought you’d be ready for work when I got here,” he teases, reaching up to brush a stray curl off Buck’s forehead, “but your hair is still a mess.”

“My hair always looks good,” Buck defends. He goes to swat Eddie’s hand away, but Eddie catches his wrist, his touch lingering a moment too long. He only drops his hand when Buck meets his eyes, probably looking like a deer in headlights.

“Yeah, it does,” Eddie admits. He’s watching him with that same intense gaze, the one that makes it hard to breathe. Buck’s stomach flips, and he’s not sure how much longer he can go before he does or says something stupid.

Luckily for him, Maddie clears her throat behind them, reminding them that she’s still here.

Eddie’s back straightens like a rod. “Maddie. Nice to see you.”

“Hi, Eddie.” She’s giving Buck a meaningful look, and there’s no way Eddie is missing that. He just hopes he doesn’t question it too much. “I should get going before I’m late for work.”

“Us too,” Eddie echoes, gesturing between him and Buck. “Uh, talk soon? Or, maybe we’ll get one of your calls.”

“You always do.” Maddie grabs her purse and heads out, stopping at the threshold. “Evan, don’t forget what I said.”

Be careful.

He doesn’t respond as she walks out the door.

*

“This is really fishy.”

Stuffing a fork loaded with spaghetti into his mouth, Buck looks up at the paramedic. “Thersh no bish inna pasha.”

Chimney grimaces. “What did you just say?”

“He said, ‘There’s no fish in the pasta,’” Eddie translates, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. He’s sitting next to Buck at the table, his chair scooted close to him, enough that their legs and shoulders are brushing.

One of his hands is resting on Buck’s thigh under the table, out of sight from the rest of the team, as if it’s a completely normal thing for him to do.

Whatever Buck had been expecting when it came to seeing Eddie again after the kiss, this was not even on the list. Instead of being awkward and flighty or refusing to look him in the eyes, Eddie has been touching him all day in some way or another. Tucking his legs between his in the truck, resting an arm behind his back on the couch, fixing the collar of his uniform with tender fingers. They’ve never shied away from each other, but everything Eddie is doing feels purposeful now. Romantic, even.

Buck has always been a physical guy, but his partners have never assumed he’s needed this. ‘Men only want one thing’—except that’s not true, because as much as Buck loves sex, he loves the intimacy of a lingering touch just as much, the way his skin tingles under the heat of Eddie.

So, obviously, the hand on his thigh, while it came as a surprise, is not unwelcome. And although Buck’s cheeks have been flaming for the last half hour, he likes to think he’s been successful at acting normal given the conditions.

Semi-normal. Maybe a quarter normal.

Apparently, he’s been overestimating.

Chimney watches him with suspicious eyes. “That’s obviously not what I meant.”

Buck shrugs innocently and swallows the bite. “I was just making sure you weren’t insulting Cap’s cooking.”

Bobby smiles at him. “I appreciate that.”

“Always got your back, Cap.”

“Stop deflecting,” Chimney orders, pointing accusingly at him. “You’re acting really weird today. Out with it.”

“I think I’m acting perfectly normal,” he replies, glancing over at Eddie, whose lips are folded together to hide his knowing smirk. “Do you think I’m acting weird, Eddie?”

“Not at all,” Eddie says.

“That doesn’t count,” Hen points out apologetically. “Eddie never disagrees with you.”

“I disagree with him!”

“When was the last time that happened?”

“Uh...” Eddie blanks, but suddenly, an idea seems to pop into his head. “One time he tried to pay for dinner, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that,” Buck warns. “I’m getting the next one.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Eddie—”

Buck is about to argue, but Eddie—who appears to have absolutely no sense of self-preservation—decides to take that moment to move the hand on his thigh up higher and squeeze. The sound that involuntarily escapes Buck’s mouth can only be described as a squeal, which is not helping his case.

“See!” Chimney cries out as if he’s just solved world hunger. “There’s definitely something weird going on here.”

Buck wants to argue back, but he’s pretty sure if he opens his mouth to speak that he’s only going to further incriminate himself. Luckily, Eddie always has his back. “Nothing is going on. Just drop it, Chim.” He glances at Buck’s nearly empty plate of food. “Are you done with lunch?”

“Mm hmm,” Buck manages. He’s not sure he could eat another bite right now.

“Come on, then.” Eddie stands, the chair nearly falling backwards from the force of it, and tugs on Buck’s arm. He says to the rest of the team, “Buck’s just tired. He’s gonna take a nap.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are.”

As Eddie leads him out of the kitchen, Buck glances back one last time. Hen catches his eye, and she seems to realize something, because her eyes blow wide and her mouth drops open. He’s glad Eddie’s removing him from the situation, because he doesn’t want to know what conclusion she’s just come to. It’s probably wrong, anyway—he really doubts she knows what’s going on between him and Eddie. Even he doesn’t know.

They don’t make it to the bunk room. Eddie looks around before tugging him into a storage closet. He flicks on a light, illuminating the dark room. There’s a bunch of cleaning supplies along the far wall, and a plastic bucket with a mop in it taking up his leg room. It’s a tight space, and they’re practically pressed up against each other.

“What are we doing in here?” Buck whispers loudly, his face just a few inches from Eddie’s.

“Bunk room isn’t private enough,” he replies. “We haven’t had a minute alone.”

“We’re at work.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’ve been touching me all day,” Buck blurts out like he’s completely forgotten how to filter his thoughts. He’s pretty sure he never learned that skill as a baby. His hand flies up to clamp over his mouth like he can shove the words back in.

Eddie just smiles, cheeks dimpling in the corners. “You like it when I touch you,” he says, fingers circling around Buck’s wrist to remove his hand from his mouth. Their hands fall to their sides, but Eddie’s fingers stay, brushing lightly against his skin. Further proving his point, Buck’s breath catches, and Eddie’s grin widens. “See.”

“Okay, yeah, I like it,” Buck admits, feeling the flush rise up the back of his neck. Why is this so embarrassing? He knows he shouldn’t feel bad for needing affection, but it doesn’t feel like something he’s supposed to say out loud.

“It’s okay to like it,” Eddie says, his tone matter-of-fact. “It’s even okay if you need it.”

Something warm settles in his chest. Eddie’s always been able to read him, but it still surprises him how he always manages to find the exact words he needs to hear. Buck wants to say something back—there’s a confession on the tip of his tongue. That Eddie was right, maybe? That he does need it? That Eddie knows him better than anyone else? That Buck is glad it’s him?

Right when he’s about to speak, a can of cleaning spray topples from the highest shelf above them. It knocks into Buck’s head before clanging to the floor, the sound reverberating loudly. Buck startles, and his heel catches on the mop bucket, sending him flying forward, right into Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s steady hands wrap around his waist, keeping him from faceplanting into the floor.

Buck’s pulse is thrumming in his veins. His face is so close to Eddie’s that he can feel his breath puff against his cheek. He can see the shadow of stubble growing along his jaw since shaving that morning, can smell traces of the cologne that Chris bought him for his birthday last year, can hear the quiet intake of breath as his arms flex to hold up Buck’s weight.

Buck’s lips part involuntarily, and Eddie’s eyes flicker down to his mouth.

His eyes widen. He couldn’t possibly be thinking about doing it again, could he? About kissing him? The way they’re standing now, it wouldn’t take a lot of effort—he would just have to lean in and...

“Did you kiss me because I looked like I needed it?” Buck can’t stop himself from asking. It’s a thought that’s been bouncing around his skull since it happened. Had he looked visibly hurt when Eddie froze at the kiss cam? Had Eddie felt so bad about it that he thought he had to make it up to him? Had that been the reason why Eddie kissed him?

“Buck...”

“If that’s the reason, you can’t do it again,” Buck adds quickly. “I can’t kiss someone who doesn’t want it, too.” The thought makes his skin crawl—someone touching him because they feel like they have to. He can’t do that to Eddie.

Eddie is quiet for a good minute before he speaks again. There is a vulnerability in his voice that Buck has only seen a few times before, in the times when life has broken him down so much that he can no longer hide it—but this time, there’s no sadness in it.

“I kissed you because I wanted to," Eddie confesses.

Buck sucks in a sharp inhale. He’s not sure exactly what it means, except that Eddie didn’t hate the kiss. Eddie hadn’t just done it to be a good ‘date’ or because he felt bad. Eddie had... wanted it, too?

“Obviously, I’m straight,” Eddie continues, his cheeks flushing slightly, “but I wanted to kiss you. It just happened. And yeah, it felt good. You’re my best friend, so it’s... it’s not weird to be comfortable with you. Right?”

That makes perfect sense. It’s almost exactly how Buck feels about the situation. Apart from the ‘straight’ thing, of course. “No, not at all,” Buck decides, shaking his head. “Straight guys kiss all the time. I mean, you would know. You were in the army.”

The anxiety melts off Eddie’s face as he chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m not sure where you get your information about the army from.”

Buck smirks. “I don’t think you want to know.”

Eddie makes a face. “Gross, dude.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he jokes, dodging as Eddie reaches to swat him. Their laughter bounces off the walls as Eddie lunges again, Buck expertly evading his attacks until he finds himself backed against the door. Eddie plants his hands on either side of him, caging him in, their faces an inch apart.

Eddie, breathing heavily, drops his gaze to Buck’s lips once again.

This time, Buck doesn’t hesitate. He grabs Eddie’s face in his hands and closes the gap between them with a searing kiss. The feeling returns, twice as strong as the first time, a fire consuming him—and it only burns brighter when Eddie immediately kisses him back, wrapping an arm around his waist again to tug him closer. The rest of the world melts away, and it’s just him and Eddie.

Everything is Eddie. His lips taste like coffee and mint. He smells like firehouse soap and clean skin. And he sounds... he sounds wrecked as Buck’s mouth latches onto his neck.

“Buck,” Eddie moans, threading his fingers through Buck’s hair and tugging lightly. Buck groans, eyes fluttering shut. “Buck, I—”

He’ll never know what Eddie was about to say, because they're interrupted by the loud, obnoxious blaring of the alarm, shattering the moment. The very last thing he wants to do at that moment, Buck pulls back, mouth tugged downwards into a deep frown. “We should get out of here before the others wonder where we are.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, voice strained and slightly hoarse. “Can’t let Chimney see us coming out of a closet.”

Oh, fucking hell.

*

“Come on, Buck. Don’t be stubborn.”

Buck stares at the nicely made-up bed, looking comfortable as ever, and simply shakes his head. “I am not kicking you out of your own bed.”

“You’re not kicking me out. I’m asking you to take the bed.”

“I always take the couch!” he points out. “I love the couch. It’s very soft.”

Eddie drags his teeth over his bottom lip, turning up into an amused smile at the corners. “The bed is soft too,” he says, plopping himself down onto it. He glances up at Buck through his long eyelashes and pats the duvet. “Come feel it.”

“Jesus, Eddie, it sounds like you’re trying to—” He cuts himself off, brain catching up to his mouth. No, no, no. He’s not going to say that.

Eddie tilts his head. “Trying to what?”

“Nothing,” he says too quickly, sitting down beside Eddie on the bed. He glances back at the living room. “You’re usually fine with me sleeping on the couch.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I was your boyfriend,” Eddie points out. Fake boyfriend, but Eddie seems to have trimmed the fat on that one. “My abuela always taught me that a gentleman takes the couch.”

Buck narrows his eyes. “So, by your definition, I was the gentleman before?”

“Let’s not get caught up in semantics,” he argues, waving his hand in the air before resting it on Buck’s knee. His expression softens. “Look, I know your leg is hurting. Just take the damn bed, okay?”

Buck’s mouth goes dry. His leg has been aching since halfway through their shift after a particularly bad call with a rough landing. He’s been trying to subtly ease the pain all day, but nothing has helped. “How did you know?”

“I know you, Buck.”

Eddie’s hand on his knee squeezes, gentle and warm. It sends a small wave of relief through him, and Buck’s eyes fall shut of their own accord. A quiet hum escapes his lips. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, pleased at the revelation. He shifts to a better angle, one knee pressed into the mattress. His hands adopt a slow pace, tenderly working the muscles. His palms are warm through the fabric of Buck’s sweats, thumbs pressing in slow circles that melt away the aches and pains of Buck's worn body.

After a few minutes, Buck’s eyes crack open. Fascinated, he watches Eddie’s hands work. These are hands that have crawled through battlefields, dug their way out of the earth, brought people back from the dead, cradled a newborn child. And now they’re here, taking away his pain. Buck can’t help but think how lucky that makes him.

“What are you thinking about?” Eddie asks, lifting Buck’s leg and resting it over his own for a better angle. His thumbs massage Buck’s calves. There’s no pain there, and Eddie knows that—he’s just doing it for the sake of making him feel good.

Buck lets out a soft moan, gripping the mattress to keep himself steady. “I’m thinking about how I should have asked you to do this ages ago.”

“You can ask whenever you want.”

The bedroom is peaceful, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the lamp they bought together years ago. The TV hums in the background, still playing the movie they’d been watching before Buck started to drift and Eddie told him to get some rest. And Buck is so lost in it that a dangerous thought starts to form in his mind.

This almost feels real, doesn’t it?

As if he can hear the thought, Eddie’s kneading slows to an intimate caress, thumb dipping into the bend of Buck’s knee. He catches Buck’s eyes. “This is nice, isn’t it?” Eddie says. “It feels...”

“Nice?” Buck repeats, a hint of humour in his tone to mask his internal freak-out.

“Haha,” Eddie says drily, but there’s a flicker of mirth in his eyes. “I just mean, it’s like all the good parts of a relationship without all the nasty stuff.”

“Mmm,” he agrees. Eddie has had just as little luck in the love department as Buck—which makes absolutely no sense. Although, Buck is also firmly of the opinion that none of the women he’s dated have deserved him.

The women were fine, he supposes. Beautiful, absolutely. Kind, probably. Good with Christopher, because Eddie would never have chosen them otherwise. Except there’s always been one thing missing that Buck has noticed over the years—they never seem to make Eddie truly happy. Something always stands in the way. And one thing Buck will never compromise on when it comes to believing someone is right for Eddie is that they bring him joy.

When that day comes, Buck will know. He’ll know Eddie is happy because he’s seen it before—he’s seeing it right now. Brown eyes looking up at him. Hair falling into his face as he smiles wide. That dark storminess that usually lingers between his brows and in the set of his shoulders—the weight of expectation, the fear of judgement—all gone. Peace settled into the worn lines in his face.

That is happiness.

It reminds Buck that he is one of the lucky few that have the honour of being special to Eddie Diaz. That the Eddie that Buck gets is an Eddie that no one else will ever have. Someday he’ll settle down with a woman again, for good this time, and Buck will be happy for him—and on that day, still, no one will ever have Eddie like he does.

And on that day, more likely than not, Buck will still be waiting to find something as great as what he has right now.

Buck rests his hand over Eddie’s, giving it a light squeeze before easing it off his leg. “How about we go to bed? It’s getting late.”

Eddie nods, rising slowly from the bed. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Hey,” Buck says, his hand wrapping around Eddie’s wrist to stop him. “I said go to bed, not go to the couch.”

“Are we seriously having this argument again?” Eddie asks with a sigh. “Your leg—”

“Stay with me.”

Eddie pauses his ranting, and shock crosses his face. “What?”

“The bed’s big enough for two,” Buck explains, suddenly nervous. “Unless you don’t want—”

“Scoot over, Buckley.”

Contentedly, Buck shuffles back until he’s lying on the left side of the bed and drags the duvet over his body. Eddie switches off the light, the room plunging into darkness, and climbs in beside him; the mattress dips under his weight as he shifts onto his side.

Buck stares up at the ceiling. “This isn’t weird, is it?”

Eddie snorts. “I’ve had your tongue in my mouth, and you’re asking if sleeping beside each other is weird?”

“Okay, fair point.”

"Go to sleep, Buck." Eddie’s arm drops onto the mattress, not touching his, but close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating from his body like a space heater. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

After their long shift, it doesn’t take long for Eddie to fall asleep, the faint sound of his breathing like a lullaby in Buck’s ears. He turns his head so he can look at Eddie—his ear pressed against the pillow, his pink lips parted slightly, his eyelashes so long they brush his cheek.

The thing about best friends is you always want to be around them. As much as you can, as close as you can. And here, with Eddie right beside him, with him so close that Buck can count the freckles on his face—his favourite is the one under his left eye—Buck can’t help but feel lucky again.

It’s not a real relationship. He’s not delusional enough to think it is. Maddie told him to be careful, but what she didn’t understand is that, when it comes to Eddie, he’ll take whatever he can get and cling to it like it’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Because that’s what it is.

*

Chapter Text

For once in his life, Eddie sleeps through the sunrise.

Sunlight streams in through the cracks in the curtains, warming his face. It coaxes him awake gently, delicately, unlike the rough eviction from sleep his nightmares usually provide. He wishes momentarily that every morning could be like this, that his mind could be at peace for long enough that the sun could wake him up, the way it was meant to be.

It takes him exactly one minute to realize what has him so relaxed in the first place.

A mess of curly blond hair tickles his chin as he attempts to stretch. He freezes, glancing down at the man in his arms. Buck is still fast asleep, curled up on Eddie’s chest like it's his pillow—which, apparently, it is. His soft pink lips are parted slightly as he snores, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

In his sleep, one of Eddie’s arms must have curled around Buck’s torso, holding him close. The other rests on top of his head, absentmindedly stroking through the soft curls. He pauses, taking in the sight before him. It’s not often that you wake up with an armful of Evan Buckley. And yet Eddie doesn’t seem to mind the weight of his body on top of his.

Exploring, Eddie’s hand drifts down, fingertips light as a feather, tracing the outline of Buck’s birthmark, along the bridge of his strong nose, barely ghosting along his bottom lip. Still asleep, Buck instinctively chases the touch, pressing his lips softly against Eddie’s thumb, a quiet hum of contentment escaping him. Eddie’s breath catches. The feeling hits him again—that aching, fiery sensation that starts deep in his gut and radiates outward to every inch of his body until it’s all he can think about.

Eddie wants to kiss him again.

The first time it happened, the feeling had hit him so strongly that he wasn’t quite sure what it was. It was overwhelming—so much so that he’d frozen, unable to move, unable to think about anything except what it would feel like to give in and press his lips to Buck’s. It was confusion, mostly, that had left him frozen. That sensation, that urge, was something that Eddie had never felt before in his life. Not even with Shannon that day he met her by the lake, when he thought he’d fallen in love for the very first time. This was something different, something new. Something scary.

But then he’d realized on the drive home from the game, watching Buck look out the window at the traffic as they drove past, that it wasn’t something new at all. It was the same feeling from when he first met Buck, when he thought to himself, he’s an idiot, and I’d really like to keep him around. It was the feeling of wanting to know him—and so, if that includes knowing how he tastes as their lips press together or how he looks when he’s asleep on Eddie’s chest, then that’s not really anything new at all, is it?

Despite what some people think, Eddie’s not stupid—he knows that kissing his best friend, who is a man, could appear to some to be a little bit gay. But the thing is, Eddie is straight. He knows this fact at the very core of his being. There is no universe in which Eddie Diaz does not end up with a woman. Still, like Buck said, straight guys can kiss other guys. It happens in the army, doesn’t it? And after all, Buck isn’t just a guy. He’s Buck. And Eddie agreed, for all intents and purposes, to be Buck’s boyfriend for the next month, so he feels like he should be allowed a little bit of kissing without everyone getting on his ass about it.

Buck’s eyes crack open, shimmering blue in the soft glow of the sunlight. He shuts them almost immediately, rubbing away the burn from the direct beam; his eyes are sensitive, so he doesn’t like to look right into the sun. What a shame—Eddie quite liked seeing them first thing in the morning. He lifts a hand to shelter Buck’s face from the light, and his eyelids flutter open again.

“Thanks,” Buck says, voice croaky with sleep as he glances up at Eddie.

“I have selfish motivations,” Eddie replies without an explanation, a grin spreading across his face. Inexplicably, he might love waking up next to Buck. He doesn’t feel claustrophobic or like someone is intruding on his space. Eddie likes having Buck’s weight on top of him, anchoring him in his presence. He feels light, like he’s floating on a cloud. In the past few months, it’s felt more like he’s living under a perpetual thunderstorm—but for a moment, he’s able to turn it all off and just exist.

Buck blinks in confusion before shaking his head. “It’s too early in the morning for your weirdness.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it.” In that moment, Buck seems to realize that he’s sprawled across Eddie’s chest. His eyes widen, and he scrambles to get up, pressing his palms into the mattress on either side of Eddie for some leverage. Eddie tightens the arm around his waist, bringing Buck back into his embrace. “Don’t get up yet.”

“Eddie!” Buck yelps. The fabric muffles his indignant huffs as his face presses into Eddie’s shirt.

“Come on, it’s our day off,” Eddie explains. He drops his arms to his sides so Buck can get up if he really wants to—except he doesn’t, staying on top of Eddie where he ungracefully landed. Eddie is not at all weirdly happy about that. “We’re allowed to be lazy and stay in bed.”

Eddie is never lazy—he gets up before the crack of dawn, cleans the house, does his laundry, and spends whatever time he has left missing his son and moping about how much he’s screwed up his life. But with Buck here, he simply can’t bring himself to get out of bed—it’s like being in a warm shower on a cold day, knowing that as soon as you turn off the water, you’ll be hit with a blast of freezing air.

“Okay,” Buck concedes, settling back into a comfortable position. He hesitates before resting his head on Eddie’s chest again, glancing up at him to make sure it’s okay. When Eddie nods, he melts into him like his bones are made of jelly. “Only for a little bit.”

Ever since the first kiss, it’s like a dam has been broken inside of Eddie. He wants more of Buck in every way. He wants to hold him closer, have him around all the time, see inside his head. None of this is new, really—he’s always loved having Buck near—but now it’s like he’s been given permission to be closer than ever. He sees how Buck responds to him, how he leans into his touch, how he makes those little noises when they kiss, and he wants more.

Buck is the sun. Ever since the day they met, he’s been pulling Eddie into his orbit, letting him revolve around this set path even when it looks like he might break away, only to return to what is good, what is safe, what is right. Buck is the source of light in his life when everything else is dark. Is it really so bad that Eddie wants to keep his light close when he’s always so afraid of getting lost in the darkness?

*

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie is trying really, really hard to focus. He’s trying to take in every enthusiastic word that comes out of Buck’s mouth, because he knows how much it means to him when people listen and ask questions and show interest. But the thing is that he’s just so goddamn distracted by the way he’s excitedly bouncing around the museum, glancing back at Eddie every now and then with the kind of wide, toothy smile that makes his cheeks flush and his eyes crinkle at the edges.

Eddie may be straight, but even he has to admit that his best friend is absolutely, jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

"Did you know that astronauts’ footsteps will stay on the moon for millions of years because there’s no wind or rain to erode them?" Buck raves, his long legs carrying him quickly between exhibits with the vigour of a hyperactive child. Eddie follows easily, an amused smile permanently etched into his face. With a whole three days off before their next shift, Eddie was presented with the perfect opportunity to be a good boyfriend—three days of Buck’s favourite activities, starting with the science centre.

"I did not know that,” Eddie eventually remembers to reply. His gaze keeps straying from the displays towards how the light from the glass ceiling overhead catches in Buck’s hair and makes it look brighter.

“Christopher’s science project is about mapping the craters on the moon,” Buck explains, pointing at something very specific on a diorama that Eddie doesn’t understand in the slightest. “He was telling me about it last night when we video called him.”

“Yeah, he told me about that,” Eddie replies fondly. Now that Buck and Christopher are talking again regularly, he can see the spark returning to both of their eyes. Eddie can’t help but feel guilty for being the reason they didn’t speak for as long as they did, but he knows it’s never happening again. He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure of that.

Buck hums distractedly, bent down to read something off the display that has clearly captured his attention. There’s something so magnetic about Buck when he gets like this, full of innate curiosity that bursts out of him like a spring. When people look at Buck, they only see his strong body and his pretty face—and while those things are certainly nice, he’s also so much more than that. He’s the smartest guy that Eddie knows, and he’s so amazing with Christopher, and he’s endlessly loyal and brave and kind and a little bit stupid. There’s not a thing about him that Eddie would change.

Eddie clears his throat to get his attention. “Chris mentioned his abuela wasn’t as good at helping with his projects as you are. He said it made science less fun.”

“Oh.” Buck blinks up at him in surprise. “I didn’t realize it meant that much to him.”

“Me neither,” Eddie says truthfully. He didn’t realize, because it had become so normal to them—as soon as Christopher came home from school, he and Buck would sit down at the kitchen table and go over his homework. It was second nature to them, so much that they hadn’t realized until it was gone. Until four o’clock in the afternoon became the quietest hour of the day.

“Well, we’ll just have to bring Christopher here when he’s back in L.A.,” Buck says definitively, as if it’s a simple fact that Christopher is coming back and not something that’s been looming over Eddie’s head for the last several months. His confidence makes Eddie start to believe he’s right.

Eddie nods, swallowing around the knot in his throat. “Which exhibit are we talking him to first, huh?”

The question is enough to launch Buck into another tirade. This time, Eddie makes sure to listen carefully. Eventually, Buck decides that Eddie isn’t moving fast enough, because he wraps his hand around Eddie’s wrist to pull him along with him. After that, it becomes much harder for Eddie to pay attention.

Buck’s eyes are wild with passion as he grinds to a stop to enthusiastically lecture Eddie on another exhibit. “Did you know they used to put uranium in kids’ science kits, Eddie. Uranium! Imagine if Chris came home with a box full of radioactive metal.”

“That sounds like a fire hazard,” Eddie replies, lifting an eyebrow. “Although Chris would be safe in a house with two firefighters.” He momentarily forgets that Buck isn’t technically living with him, but luckily his friend doesn’t call him out on the slip-up.

“I would never let Chris have one of those,” Buck says, nose scrunching as he reads a list of chemical names off the info card. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s everything you need to make a homemade bomb. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough explosives.”

Eddie lets out a snort as he attempts to make sense of the complex diagrams that Buck is reading so intently. “Okay, yeah, I have no idea what any of this means.”

Buck pauses, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry, was I getting ahead of myself? Tommy never wanted to come to museums with me because he said it was a little excessive."

Eddie's jaw tightens, as it does whenever Buck mentions his shitty ex-boyfriend. How could he have never realized just how terribly he was being treated? There must be something seriously wrong with Tommy, after all—how anyone could see Buck like this and find it anything but endearing is beyond him. 

"I'm not surprised," Eddie replies bitterly. "His old, decrepit body was probably incapable of keeping up."

"Eddie,” Buck warns, but there’s humour undercutting the reprimand. “He wasn’t that old.”

“He unironically used the phrase, ‘back in my day.’”

“So does Bobby!” “You’re literally proving my point.”

Buck opens his mouth as if to disagree but realizes he’s fighting a losing battle. “Touché.”

"I can't help but wonder if we're making a mistake with this whole ‘boyfriend experiment’ thing, though," Eddie begins, a faux frown tugging at his lips. Buck's smile begins to fade, so Eddie hurriedly finishes his thought. "I mean, I'm clearly too young for you. How will we ever work?"

Buck rolls his eyes. "You’re not exactly in the prime of your youth.”

“Oh, so you admit you like older men?”

“Maybe a little,” Buck admits, and if Eddie didn’t know better, he’d think he was flirting. “I think having life experience is attractive.”

Eddie’s stomach flips. The thought of Buck looking at Tommy with desire makes his insides churn unpleasantly—he knows that Buck wanted Tommy once, maybe still does, but it registers in every cell of his body as wrong. It’s something that wears on Eddie, filling him with guilt—he’d promised Buck that he was completely fine about him having feelings for a man, and here he is disgusted by the thought of it.

And yet… it isn’t so much that Buck wants a man, is it? It’s that the man is Tommy. It’s that Buck whispers his want for the man in that husky tone, right here in front of Eddie. As if Tommy is good for Buck, when Eddie knows he’s the exact opposite—not nearly good enough. Not nearly worthy.

“You think Tommy has more life experience than me?” Eddie asks, voice dropping low and deep. The flame of competition starts back up in his gut, the kind he feels when anyone stakes a claim on Buck. He needs the answer like he needs to breathe.

“In certain things, maybe. But…” Buck swallows hard, holding Eddie’s eyes. “Not where it matters.”

“And what’s that?” he asks, his gaze flicking down to Buck’s lips again. He can’t help but wonder if Tommy’s experience includes being better than Eddie at drawing those breathy whines out of Buck when they kiss. The thought makes his spine stiffen, like an animal spotting a rival in the wild.

“He didn’t know how to be a partner,” Buck explains. He rubs a hand along his jaw, easing the tension he’s holding there. “It was always Buck and Tommy, not Buck & Tommy.”

Eddie’s mind conjures up memories of their most recent shift, where the phrase Buck & Eddie had been shouted by their captain more times than he could count. They move together; they move as a team. Everyone knows that, even people who have just met them.

Buck goes on, the words spilling out of him now like he’s been wanting to get them off his chest. “He didn’t understand why I care so much about the job, because it was just a means to an end for him. But for me, it’s my whole life. The 118 is my whole life.”

Eddie knows that—of course he does. He’s seen Buck fight tooth and nail to come home to them, even if it sometimes had negative consequences. He knows that Bobby is the father he never had, and Chimney is like his brother, and he loves Hen so dearly that he would lay down his life for her. If there’s one thing Eddie would never question, it’s Buck’s love for his people.

“He wanted different things than I did. And he…” Buck’s voice trails off in hesitation, but Eddie waits patiently until he’s ready to continue. He takes a deep breath before finishing. “He didn’t want kids. I guess he didn’t see the appeal.”

Of course, the first thing Eddie thinks about is Christopher. He’s pretty sure Buck is thinking the same, with how his eyes soften with affection. Eddie can’t imagine his life without the kid—sure, he hadn’t planned on having one so young, and it had been hard, but Christopher is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And he knows that Buck feels the same.

Eddie shakes his head. “He was never the right person for you.”

The right person would be your partner. The right person would know you better. The right person would want the same things as you.

Like me.

The thought slams into him like a brick, and he’s momentarily taken aback. Except, the more he lets the idea refine, the more it makes sense to him. Objectively, purely objectively, the perfect person for Buck isn’t Tommy. It’s someone who understands him, who knows what he needs, who calls him out on his shit, who wants a family with him.

His mind toys with the idea, tracing the edges, feeling its familiarity. He can’t help but admit, even just to himself, that someone like him would fit the bill perfectly. Not him, of course, because it can’t be him. But… someone like him.

Before he can dwell on the topic any longer, a loud rumble from Buck’s stomach interrupts his train of thought. It’s been a few hours since either of them ate, and Eddie’s been stalling on getting them food since he made a reservation for tonight—although, luckily, it’s just about time for them to leave if they want to make it on time.

Buck sheepishly rubs a hand over his belly. “You know what is definitely right for me?”

Eddie lifts an eyebrow in amusement. “Dinner?”

Buck grins, showing his teeth. “You know me so well.”

*

“Are you sure about this place?” Buck asks, glancing around worriedly. It’s the kind of fancy restaurant where the menu doesn’t have prices listed and the plating is as fancy as the attire, leaving the two of them feeling like fish out of water in their casual dress. Eddie had made the reservation online—after a brief phone call to Christopher about how exactly to do that—and there had been nothing on the website about a dress code. Although, in hindsight, he probably should have guessed from the pictures.

Overlooking the L.A. skyline, the restaurant is one of the most romantic sights Eddie has ever seen. Night has already fallen, and the rooftop is dimly lit with string lights dangling from the awning. When the hostess had led them to their table in the corner, there had been a candle softly flickering in the centre, surrounded by rose petals. As they'd taken their seats, their legs had pressed together under the table, clearly not designed for two men of their size. And as they'd read the menu, Buck’s ankle had hooked around his, as if to make more room. The steady pressure of it keeps distracting Eddie from deciding what to order.

“Yes, I’m sure, Buck,” Eddie replies amusedly, still flickering through the menu. He can’t pronounce a majority of the options, which is probably a good sign. “Some of us actually have a decent credit score.”

“You won’t after tonight,” Buck responds under his breath. His eyes skim the page again, and he closes his menu and sets it down on the table. “Eds, we don’t have to eat here. You know I’m fine with mac and cheese.”

“You can order that here, see? Macaroni crème gratin aux truffles,” Eddie says, butchering the pronunciation so horribly that Buck can’t help but crack a smile.

“Or, get this—we have cheese and macaroni at home for free,” he argues half-heartedly. It is with staggering ease that the word home slips from his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy the food.” Eddie hums, trying to act nonchalant before casually adding, “I’m pretty sure that the guy whose cooking show you like is the chef here.”

“Julien Marceau? No way!” Buck exclaims excitedly, eyes widening. “Me and Bobby were just talking about trying out one of his recipes.”

Eddie hides his smile behind the menu. He already knows that—he messaged Bobby last night asking for recommendations on where to take Buck. It had been a little awkward to clarify that, yes, he meant romantic spots, not casual dining, and he’s pretty sure he has a lot of explaining to do next shift, but the eager look on Buck’s face is more than worth it.

When the waitress comes to take their orders, Buck’s eagerness fades into apprehension. He squints as he rereads the entrées, forehead wrinkling with worried lines. “I’ll take the… uh, the chicken breast with roasted vegetables.”

Eddie tilts his head. He knows that’s not what Buck wants, and he has an inkling that Buck just picked whatever he thought was the cheapest thing on the menu because Eddie is paying for dinner. It’s sweet, but he’s not letting that fly tonight.

“You should try the lobster ravioli,” Eddie says, nudging Buck’s leg under the table as if to say, I know what you're doing. “I heard you telling Bobby how good it looked when we had his show on at the station.”

“Oh, you absolutely must try it,” the waitress raves. “It’s my favourite thing on the menu.”

Buck’s face does a weird mix between smiling at her and glaring at Eddie. “I guess I have to try, then.”

Satisfied with himself, Eddie orders something random, having a feeling that he’s only going to eat half of it and save the rest for Buck, anyway. His palate is not exactly used to fine dining—Christopher used to only eat chicken fingers and plain pasta when he was little, until they met Buck. And yet, despite his disinterest in fancy foods, Eddie was hell-bent on taking Buck to a nicer place than Tommy ever took him.

Trying to maintain some semblance of propriety, Buck waits until the waitress leaves with their menus to smack his arm and whisper-shout in his face. “What the hell, man?”

“What?” Eddie asks innocently, feigning confusion.

“I was fine with the chicken.”

“You were trying to save me money.”

“Because this place looks crazy expensive!”

“I can handle it.”

“But—”

“Look, I…” Eddie cuts himself off with a sigh, twiddling his thumbs on top of the table. “Since Christopher left, I have some extra cash lying around that I don’t know what to do with. I’m only taking care of one person now instead of two. Let me take care of you for one night. Please.”

Buck exhales slowly, shoulders slumping. It’s clear that he’s been missing the kid all day, just as much as Eddie has, and the reminder that he’s gone is enough to drain the fight out of him. “Yeah, okay.”

After that, the conversation shifts to lighter topics. Buck only mentions Christopher again a little while after the food arrives—except this time, it’s with eagerness as he describes how the chef got the lobster to taste so sweet and fresh. “I think he would really like it. I’m going to perfectly recreate this recipe before he gets home,” Buck promises.

Eddie wipes his mouth with the napkin, hiding his amusement. “I’m not sure Chris will go for it. You’ve definitely expanded his culinary horizons in the last few years, but he’s still too picky for seafood.”

Buck waves him off. “He just hasn’t had the right seafood yet. You should start saving up for when he gets a taste for it.” He goes in for another bite, tongue swiping out across his lip to lick off the remnants of buttery sauce.

“You know, I—” Eddie cuts himself off, words stuck in his throat. Buck glances up at him expectantly, encouragement displayed clearly on his face upon noticing his hesitation. Eddie’s voice is barely audible over the music playing in the background. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had the right seafood, either.”

Surprise flashes across Buck’s face. Instead of answering, he wordlessly sears a piece of lobster on his fork and offers it up to him. Eddie meets his gaze, intense and unblinking, and he leans forward just enough for Buck to lift the food to his mouth. There’s an unspoken tension between them that Eddie can’t quite explain, the same one that’s been lingering all day.

Buck watches as he eats. “How is it?” he asks, his voice quiet and strained.

“Incredible.”

“Good,” Buck hums, deep in thought. The candle in the center of the table casts a warm glow across his lower face. He takes a sip of his wine, some complex blend that the waitress recommended with his dish. His tongue darts out to lick the rim of the glass absentmindedly.

Eddie’s mouth goes very, very dry.

Buck seems to have forgotten his apprehension about ordering food by the time the waitress returns to check on them, because he asks for a slice of dark chocolate cake for dessert. “With two spoons, please,” he adds, giving her a cheeky wink.

She bites back a giggle as she types the order into her tablet. “It’s an aphrodisiac, you know,” she stage-whispers to Buck, throwing a glance at Eddie. “We’ve gotten many good reviews.”

Buck’s cheeks flush, and he stutters a thank you before she disappears into the kitchen. Neither of them says a word, the silence filled with the sound of clinking wine glasses and low jazz from the speakers, until she returns with the cake a few minutes later.

“Enjoy,” she says, a hint of humour in her tone, before rushing off to another table.

The two of them stare at the cake for a while before either moves to try it. It certainly looks delicious, glistening with shiny ganache and chocolate glaze. In the end, Buck is the first to pick up a spoon, loading it with a generous bite before bringing it to his mouth.

And then, shameless as he is, he fucking moans.

Eddie chokes on his water. He coughs violently, patting his chest as if he’s not a trained first responder who knows that won’t help. Buck sits up straight, immediately looking concerned, and reaches out just shy of touching him. “Are you okay?”

“Yep, all good,” he manages to say, taking another sip of water. “Went down the wrong pipe is all.”

Appeased, Buck sits back, reaching for another spoonful of cake when he’s convinced that Eddie isn’t going to pass out in front of him. He lets out another pleased sound when the confection hits his tongue, eyes shutting in pleasure.

He has to know what he’s doing, right?

“You need to try this, Eddie,” Buck says, gesturing for him to pick up the other spoon. Eddie declines, pretty sure that if Buck makes another noise while Eddie is eating, then he’s going to choke and die here in this fancy pants restaurant, and that is not how he wants to go out. Buck shrugs, reaching for another bite. “Your loss, man.”

Buck eats half the slice, still making those borderline salacious sounds, while Eddie sits there and watches him. He asks again if Eddie’s completely sure that he doesn’t want some, going so far as to offer him a taste with his own spoon. Eddie simply shakes his head and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

He doesn’t want the damn cake, but he sure wants to taste it off Buck’s mouth.

All day, Eddie’s been holding himself back from kissing Buck again. The first time he could explain as making up for the kiss cam, even if that wasn’t why he did it. And the second time, it was Buck who closed the gap in that storage closet. But Eddie’s not sure how many more times it can happen before it stops being something he can explain away.

Except with Buck licking the chocolate off of his spoon like a lollipop, making those ridiculous little moans, Eddie can practically feel the very last bit of restraint draining from his body.

Leaning across the table, Eddie draws closer until his face is an inch from Buck’s. Startled, Buck drops the spoon, and it clangs noisily against the plate. Buck glances nervously around the crowded restaurant like he’s afraid that someone will notice them. Maybe Eddie should be worried about that—after all, they’d most definitely get the wrong idea like the waitress did. They’d think he and Buck were more than best friends, with the way Eddie is so close that he can smell his own shampoo in Buck’s hair. And yet it doesn’t even cross his mind, because all he wants is more, more, more.

Tilting his chin up with one finger, Eddie presses his lips to Buck’s. Buck lets out a little yelp of surprise, but he quickly melts into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. His lips are warm, and he tastes like wine and chocolate cake. Eddie sees why he was making those noises—the cake is really, really good. He chases the taste with his tongue like his life depends on it.

Kissing Buck is his new favourite thing in the world. He almost forgets why they haven’t been doing this for the last seven years. He definitely forgets why he’s been restraining himself all day, convincing himself that he shouldn’t do it again, because he most definitely should. In fact, if this month is all he gets, then shouldn’t he be using that time wisely?

Eddie doesn’t want the kiss to end, and he’s pretty sure that Buck feels the same from the way his hands are desperately gripping the front of Eddie’s shirt, but they’re forced to break apart when someone clears their throat. There’s an apology on the tip of Eddie’s tongue—they really need to stop traumatizing innocent waitresses on their dates—but it dies when he realizes who it is standing at the edge of their table, waiting for them to part.

Tommy looks equal parts shocked and amused as he stands in front of them, a younger man by his side with a hand curled into the crook of his arm. “Diaz. Evan.”

“Tommy,” Buck says, startled, in a squeaky voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you two the same question,” he responds as he gestures between them. “Although I think I have an idea.”

The man with Tommy—his date for the night, presumably—tugs on his arm possessively, eyeing Buck with an unfiltered jealousy at the way he immediately snatched his date’s attention. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Tom?”

Tommy waves him off dismissively. “Why don’t you go find our table? I’ll join you in a little bit.”

The man huffs but agrees, following the hostess to a table in the other corner of the restaurant. With him gone, Tommy unfortunately turns his attention back to the two of them. “So…”

“Are you seeing someone else already? You broke up with me last week,” Buck explodes, jabbing a finger into Tommy’s chest accusingly, although it’s like Eddie can feel that finger poking into his own chest. Buck is acting in a way that can only be explained by one thing—jealousy. That must mean that Buck isn’t over Tommy. Buck still loves Tommy. It’s probably Tommy he was thinking about when Eddie kissed him.

It’s like a bucket of ice water has just been dumped over Eddie’s head.

“You cannot be serious, Evan,” Tommy huffs. He glances between the two men at the table, clearly taking in the very date-like atmosphere surrounding them—not to mention the fact that he’d caught them in a very compromising position.

“What?” Buck asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He hasn’t seemed to realize that Tommy thinks they’re on a real date. To Buck, the thought has probably not even crossed his mind. He’s simply spending time with his best friend at a nice restaurant. He doesn’t want Eddie—he wants Tommy.

Tommy narrows his eyes at him incredulously. “You’re mad at me for going on a date when you clearly hopped into Diaz’s bed as soon as we broke up?”

Buck’s face twists as the realization hits him. “That’s not what happened. Eddie and I—”

“Are very much in love. And we are much happier together than the two of you ever were,” Eddie interrupts, reaching out to grab Buck’s hand. He laces their fingers together as Buck turns to him, wide-eyed. Eddie knocks his leg against his again to tell him to just go with it. He’s not sure why he does it—this wasn’t exactly part of their agreement. If Buck still wants Tommy back, Eddie shouldn’t get in the way like this. But he does, and he can’t bring himself to regret it.

Tommy’s nostrils flare as he sizes Eddie up. “I always knew you were my competition.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie replies smugly, bringing Buck’s hand to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles, “looks like you lost, Kinard.”

When Buck seems to find his footing, he joins in. “You weren’t trying very hard to win.”

Tommy shrugs. “I knew I didn’t have much of a chance.”

“So you wasted six months of my life anyway?”

“I could say the same to you.”

For a moment, Buck holds Tommy’s gaze, as if trying to find closure in his eyes, before breaking away and turning his gaze onto Eddie again. For the sake of the act, Buck plasters a lovesick expression onto his face, so convincing that Eddie almost believes it for a second.

Buck smiles at him tenderly, looking at Eddie like he’s the only person in the world. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I won in the end.”

Suddenly, Eddie feels a little bit nauseous. He knows that Buck is only doing this, looking at him like that, to fuck with Tommy, and for some reason, that knowledge makes bile rise in his throat like he might throw up the very expensive meal he just had. He momentarily wonders if Buck saw Tommy standing there before Eddie kissed him, if that was the reason he kissed back the way he did, to make him jealous. Maybe even to win him back.

But even if that was the case, Buck doesn’t look like he wants Tommy back now. The smile has long melted from his face, replaced by an unconcealed scowl. He looks pissed, actually, like he wants to get the hell out of here immediately, and Eddie would have to agree with that.

“Mi vida,” Eddie calls out to Buck, playing it up as much as possible. He has to pull out all the stops to make sure Tommy never tries to contact Buck ever again. It flows off his tongue easily, even though he’s never been one for pet names.

It takes a second before Buck realizes he was talking to him. He looks pleasantly surprised, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. “Yeah?”

“Can you ask the waitress for a box for the cake? I’m sure you’ll want the rest of it later tonight.” Eddie tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, very aware of the two pairs of eyes intensely trained on him. Going for the jugular, he drops his voice into a deep, gravelly register. “After I wear you out.”

It takes everything in Eddie's body not to look away from Buck as the words slip from his mouth. For this to work, he has to appear confident in himself and in his 'relationship' with Buck, and that means being able to imagine himself wearing Buck out without literally bursting into flames. Which is, at the moment, feeling like an impossible task.

Not sharing the same concern, Buck’s face flushes a deep red, matching the colour of his birthmark. Luckily for them, it comes across as bashfulness over Eddie's straightforward come-on. “Yeah, I can, uh… I can do that,” he stutters. Taking the excuse, Buck slides out of his chair and hurries away from the table, glancing back as if to make sure they haven’t killed each other in the two seconds he’s been gone.

Once he’s out of earshot, Eddie openly glares at Tommy. “I don’t know what the fuck is your problem, man, but I think you’ve ruined our date night enough. Why don’t you get back to your own?”

“Who, Marcus?” Tommy responds dismissively, like he’d completely forgotten about his date. “He’s fine. Kind of boring. This is much more interesting to me.”

“How so?” Eddie asks drily. He couldn’t care less, and it’s very evident in his tone, and yet Tommy doesn’t seem to get the hint. Or he ignores it, which seems to be his specialty.

“I was almost convinced that I was wrong about you being into men,” Tommy explains, leaning in closer than necessary. “I mean, I was practically throwing myself at you, but you didn’t even blink. I figured I just wasn’t your type, but then Evan was all over you at that pick-up game, and you didn’t make a move on him either.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Guess you were just a little slow on the uptake with that one.”

Eddie wants to ask him what he means about the pick-up game—when was Buck ever all over him?—but he can’t think of a way to ask that doesn’t blow their cover. “You were right,” Eddie says instead. “You’re not my type. At all.”

Tommy whistles. “Kitty’s got claws.”

“There’s a reason I blocked your number, Kinard. I don’t like how you treated Buck.”

“You really shouldn’t judge, Diaz,” Tommy says disapprovingly. “You know how hard it is, figuring it out later in life. It makes everything more complicated—dealing with relationships, family, work.”

Eddie frowns. “Figuring out what?”

He levels Eddie with a meaningful stare. “That you’re gay.”

The sentence hangs between them like dead weight. Against his will, the words throw Eddie for a loop. Not that he’s homophobic or anything, but the words Eddie and gay have never come so close together before, and it makes something strange and unsettling linger in his stomach.

It must show on his face, because Tommy cocks his head curiously. “Unless… you’re not about to tell me you’re bisexual or something, are you?”

The derision in his tone makes Eddie bristle. “And if I was, what exactly would be wrong with that?”

Tommy raises his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just figured from that repressed, tightly-wound, Catholic guilt vibe you were putting out that you were a Kinsey Six like me.”

… Excuse me?

Eddie doesn’t know what Tommy is trying to pull here, calling him repressed. Eddie is the furthest thing from repressed. He’s never been repressed a day in his life.

Okay, maybe he’s a little tightly-wound. And he’s admitted to the Catholic guilt of it all. But that has nothing to do with Eddie being gay. Because he’s not. Not that he’s going to tell Tommy that.

He crosses his arms indignantly. “I have no idea what you mean by that.”

The pilot laughs, an irritating sound. “Baby gays. Always a good time.”

Eddie’s eye twitches. He is seriously getting on his very last nerve. “Alright, I’m done playing nice here. Leave, Tommy.”

Unbothered, Tommy shrugs, standing up straight. “Whatever.” Before leaving, he pauses and knocks his fist against the table. “For what it’s worth, I really did care about Evan.”

Eddie shakes his head. “If you cared about him, you would know his name is Buck.”

“He likes it when I call him Evan.”

“No, he doesn’t.” It’s not Eddie who says it, but Buck himself, standing behind the man with a take-out box in his hands. Eddie hopes he hasn’t been standing there for too long. Buck’s back straightens, and he looks his ex right in the eyes. “I never liked it. In fact, I’m starting to think I never liked you.”

That has Tommy scowling, which is a much more pleasant sight. “Come on, Evan. Don’t be like that. We had some good times, and I know you enjoyed some of them.” The words are just suggestive enough that Eddie’s nausea returns full force.

“I might have thought I did, but that was before I knew what it was supposed to feel like,” Buck says with a shrug, looking right at Eddie.

He knows Buck means it as a compliment, and it stirs a warm, satisfied feeling in his chest. Yet the words stir something else, too... because even though Buck is only saying it to get under Tommy’s skin, those words feel like the truth for Eddie. Before he kissed Buck that very first time, he’d never really known what it was supposed to feel like, because it had never felt like anything before other than the warm, pleasant sensation of a pair of lips against his. Nice, but unmemorable. Fun, but not enticing. Until Buck.

You know how hard it is, figuring it out later in life.

Tommy’s words ring in his ears as the man in question rolls his eyes. “Don’t be immature, Evan.”

“If you wanted to date someone mature, you shouldn’t have dated a ‘baby gay,’” Buck quips. Despite the cacophony of destructive thoughts wreaking havoc in his brain, Eddie can’t help but be proud of Buck for standing up for himself. “Next time, try someone your own age. Unlike your date over there.”

“Whatever," Tommy scoffs. "At least he actually wanted me around. It's time I go back to him."

“Thank god,” Eddie says aloud, making no effort to conceal the vitriol in his tone.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Both of you are immature. You deserve each other,” he says as he finally, finally walks away, leaving him and Buck alone at a table with half a slice of chocolate cake and a candle that’s been long extinguished, not even wisps of smoke left to show that it was once a burning flame.

As he slides back into his seat, Buck asks, “What did he say to you while I was gone?” There’s an air of casualness to his voice, but Eddie knows him better than that. He watches Buck carefully maneuver the rest of the slice into the take-out box, so intent on not dropping it that he presses his lips together in concentration. Eddie’s gaze lingers on them—full, soft, pink, slightly swollen from their kiss. He can’t stop remembering how it felt.

“Nothing important,” Eddie replies, not even aware that he’s lying when he says it. Buck seems satisfied with his answer, stealing one last bite of cake out of the container before sealing it shut. He licks the chocolate crumbs off his lips one last time, and the sight of it sticks in Eddie’s mind like velcro the rest of the night—still there when he pays the bill, when he drives them home, and when he climbs into bed beside Buck after they've brushed their teeth side-by-side and turned off the lights.

The words have to be important, because otherwise, Eddie wouldn’t still be thinking about them hours later, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep, as Buck snores softly in his ear.

*

Chapter Text

Eddie might be losing his mind.

Look, he’s a complicated guy—he knows that. He has a lot of baggage and a lot of emotions and not a lot of ways to deal with it all. He spends most of his days with his mind an absolute boggle of thoughts, some pleasant, some not. He thinks about how Christopher is doing at school, what time he has to leave for work, how much laundry has been piling up at home, what to get Athena for her birthday, how he really should call his sisters and check on them. His mind is never silent, but it’s okay, because it keeps him on his toes.

Now all he can think about is Buck.

It’s not new, really. He’s always thought about Buck. Buck is helping Chris with that science project, Buck knows what Athena would like, Buck remembers that Sophia and Adrianna are both free on Thursday. Except his thoughts about Buck used to be like the sound of a fan at night—constant, comforting, something you only notice when the power goes out and you’re lying in bed, unable to fall asleep.

Well, the power’s gone out, and the thoughts are all-consuming.

It doesn’t help that Buck is everywhere. His bed smells like Buck’s cologne. His bathroom has Buck’s shampoo right next to his. His kitchen is only so organized because Buck keeps it that way. His house is Buck’s house. His firehouse is Buck’s firehouse.

He always knows where Buck is. Right now, he’s fast asleep in the bed that they’ve shared more times than Eddie cares to admit, exhausted from a long shift. Eddie has put himself in a time out, forcing himself into the living room to breathe air that doesn’t smell like Buck, because, like aforementioned, he’s genuinely afraid that he might be losing his mind.

There’s only two people in the world that he wants to talk to about this. One of them is snoring loudly in the other room, and talking to him about this would probably be a conflict of interest anyway. The other is too far away. But luckily, he’s still reachable with the simple click of a button.

The call connects, and Christopher’s face fills his phone screen. He looks older than the last time that they spoke, a tragic fact of him being over eight hundred miles away. His hair looks longer and more curly, looking more and more like Buck’s. He’s growing into it. “Dad? Are you okay?”

The image of his son’s face is the key to opening up his lungs and letting him take a proper breath of air. When it comes to Christopher, out of sight is never out of mind—and that comes with worry, the everpresent kind that only ebbs when he’s within his sight. “Hi, kiddo. I’m good. How are you?”

“You don’t sound good,” Chris points out perceptively, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose like a mini detective. Nothing gets past this kid. Never has.

Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t want to bother you with my grown up problems.”

“I’m a grown up,” Chris argues defensively, as if the insinuation of him being a child is the worst insult in the world. It’s comforting, actually—that’s how Eddie knows he’s still a kid. Kids are the only ones who want to be grown up.

“You are?” Eddie says with a feigned gasp. “Should I start calling you adulto instead of kiddo?”

Chris rolls his eyes at his dad’s embarrassing antics. “You’re still not funny.”

“Good thing I’m a firefighter and not a comedian. We’d have no money to pay the bills.”

That draws a smile out of the teenager. “We’d have to move in with Buck and sleep on his couch.”

Eddie nods solemnly. “We wouldn’t want that.”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t sound too bad,” Christopher replies, shrugging. “Obviously, we wouldn’t be able to stay there forever. It’s too small. We could find a bigger house together.”

Eddie’s mouth goes dry. He should play along and be glad that Christopher is talking with him for so long, and yet he can’t bring himself to move past the image of the three of them searching for a place to live together. As close as he is with Buck, that’s not something you do with your best friend, is it? Making a home with him and your son? So why does it sound, as Christopher put it, not too bad?

The sound of Buck’s snoring growing louder fills the room, snapping Eddie out of his thoughts that are, once again, making him question his own sanity. He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “A bigger house? I’m not sure we could afford that on just Buck’s salary.”

Christopher waves him off. “There’s a lot of plot holes. If you’re not a firefighter, where did you even meet Buck? It’s better not to think about it.”

“You’re right about that,” Eddie echoes. He doesn’t ever want to think about a world where he never met Buck. The thought makes him pause—not for long, but enough that Christopher picks up on something in the silence. His smile fades into a look of contemplation, brows furrowed, mouth taut.

Finally, he asks, “Why did you really call, dad?”

Eddie doesn’t have an answer. What would he even say? You know our dear friend, Buck—I actually made out with him in a storage closet and now I can’t stop thinking about him. Also, his shitty ex-boyfriend caught us in a comprising position at a romantic restaurant and thinks I’m gay now. Which I’m not, by the way, despite the aforementioned kissing a man.

Yeah, no. Christopher might not be a baby anymore, but there’s no way he’s getting that much detail about Eddie’s life, nor does he want it.

He settles for something a bit more kid friendly that has still been on his mind. “I was hoping to get your advice on something.”

“What?”

“I want to take Buck somewhere special tonight, but I’m not sure where.”

Despite the debacle at the restaurant, Eddie hasn’t forgotten the purpose of their experiment—to show Buck the joys of a good relationship. There’s only two weeks left in the month, and Eddie’s not sure how much headway he’s made on that front. Honestly, all they need is one drama-free date, but he’s running out of ideas.

Christopher barks out a laugh. “Wow, I’ve never heard that one before.”

Eddie pouts. “Hey, don’t make fun of your father.”

The laugh fades into a gentle giggle. “Sorry, sorry. But why are you still taking Buck places? Is he still sad about Tommy?”

Eddie thinks back to the look on his best friend’s face when Tommy showed up at the restaurant during their date. Sad is not quite the word he would use to describe it. Hurt, maybe, when he saw Tommy there with someone else. Angry, when Tommy started laying into him. Worried, when he wanted to know what Tommy said to Eddie while he was gone.

You know how hard it is, figuring it out later in life.

Eddie shakes his head, forcing the thought away. Ever since that night, the words have popped into his mind at the worst possible moment, throwing him off his game. He’ll be at a simple medical call, treating two men who happen to be a couple, and the memory will come back, making him lose his focus. It’ll rear its ugly head when he’s at Hen and Karen’s house, basking in how happy they are together, how well they fit like pieces of a puzzle he’s never been able to decipher in all of his own relationships. It’s like a nasty headache that keeps coming back and back and back.

Maybe he’s just bothered that Tommy thinks he’s been secretly gay this whole time. Is there something about Eddie that makes people assume he’s into men? Not that he should be bothered by that. He’s not homophobic… unless he is? Has he been secretly harbouring homophobic thoughts this whole time? Is that why it upset him so much?

Eddie shakes his head. He’s not homophobic. The sight of Buck kissing Tommy only made him physically ill because he despises Tommy. That’s probably why he’s thinking about the man’s words so much—he hates that Tommy thinks he won over Eddie. That he somehow figured out Eddie’s deep dark secret before even Eddie did.

Well, jokes on him. Eddie’s straight as an arrow, and he still gets to keep Buck.

“Dad?”

Eddie looks back at his phone, trying to remember what Christopher asked before he got lost in his thoughts. “Sorry, Chris. No, Buck’s not sad about Tommy anymore.”

“Good,” Chris says matter-of-factly in a way that makes Eddie struggle not to grin. “He can do a lot better.”

“Yeah, he can.”

“Do you…” Christopher trails off, hesitation crossing his face.

“What is it, buddy?”

“Do you know someone better?”

A wave of shock washes over him. Christopher has never shown any interest in who Buck brings home—even Tommy, who has the holy grail of impressing children with his easy access to helicopters. So why is Chris suddenly fixated on who would be good for Buck? Who does he think deserves him?

Let it not be one of his exes, please. Especially not the ones with the initials T.K. Eddie feels his right eye twitch at the thought and tries to get it under control. “I’m not sure, Chris. Do you?”

Christopher is silent for a moment, as if he’s trying to come up with an answer. Eddie’s not sure who else the kid could want Buck to date. Someone he met down in Texas? A teacher at his school, maybe? Buck shouldn’t date a teacher. They wouldn’t understand his job or why it’s so important to him. Eddie knows better than anyone.

The kid just sighs and shakes his head cryptically. “Not yet, I guess.”

Not… yet?

Out of nowhere, like he’s just been struck with a lightbulb of genius, Christopher’s expression shifts into one of excitement. “I know where you should take Buck.”

“Where?”

“The pier.”

Eddie’s spine stiffens.

They haven’t been back to the pier since the tsunami. The child psychologist they took Christopher to had suggested that his nightmares were making him afraid of the ocean—so they adapted, took him to the zoo instead of the beach, avoided water parks like the plague, and eventually Christopher got better. But they still never went back to the pier, not quite in the mood to relieve one of the worst days of their lives.

Christopher carries on, trying to convince his dad of this brilliant idea. “It’s perfect. Buck can play the games and go on the rides. It’ll make him feel better.”

“I’m not sure Buck would be comfortable with that, Buddy,” Eddie points out. It wasn’t only Christopher who was traumatized by the tsunami. He never forgot the haunted look in Buck’s eyes that day, face covered in dirt and blood, so wildly desperate to find the kid that he’d worn himself half to death. Eddie can’t think about it for too long.

“Tell him it was my idea,” Christopher insists. There’s a glimmer in his eyes that makes Eddie wonder what is going through his head. What he knows for sure is that his son is incredibly intelligent, and he wouldn’t tell Eddie to do this unless he had a good reason.

“Alright,” he concedes. He’ll bring it up to Buck, but it’s his decision on whether or not to go. And yet he has a feeling that Buck won’t turn him down when he hears that it was Christopher’s idea, even if he’s scared, even if it brings up bad memories. He’s one of the bravest people that Eddie has ever met.

“And maybe,” Christopher continues, his voice taking on an air of conviction, “you and Buck can take me there when I come home.”

It is at that moment that Eddie realizes—as much as his son takes after him and Shannon, he’s never noticed just how much of Evan Buckley can be seen in Christopher Diaz.

*

Buck says yes.

The Santa Monica pier is more beautiful than Eddie remembers it—sun casting a warm glow on the waterfront, sandy beaches shimmering, nothing but families, carnival music, and balloons. To be fair, the last time he saw it was five years ago while it was being actively wrecked by a natural disaster. Still, he had forgotten how fun it was to pretend to be a kid for a little while.

It turns out to be quite possibly one of the best days of Eddie’s life. He hasn’t felt so free in a long time, laughter ringing out as Buck forces him into a photo booth to take silly pictures, shoving cotton candy into his mouth even though it’s too sweet, playing games like he’s not way too old for this. Being here with Buck is like seeing happiness in human form and finding a way to stuff it into his heart and carry it there. The only thing that could make it better would be having Christopher here with them—but for the first time in a long time, he has the word “soon” to cling onto, and literally nothing can spoil his mood.

In the middle of a passionate rant about how carnivals were inspired by ancient European festivals, Buck suddenly stops talking. His gaze lands on a nearby booth, one of those games where you play to win some inconsequential prize. There’s nothing interesting about the game itself, but it seems to have him enraptured, his soft pink lips parting in wonder. He makes no move towards it, but Eddie knows he wants to.

Eddie places a hand on his shoulder. “Wanna play?”

When Buck nods in agreement, Eddie pays the fee, and Buck shakes out his arms like he’s psyching himself up for a serious competition and not a carnival game where his opponent is a series of rubber ducks. Even though it’s clearly a game meant for kids, Buck’s face twists in pure concentration. Eddie can’t look away. It’s so stupidly endearing.

Of course, Buck wins the game. The worker hands him a ginormous stuffed bear that is practically half his height, which Buck happily accepts. His eyes fall shut for a second, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The sun glints off his hair, making it look lighter, like a halo around his head. Something flutters in Eddie’s chest.

After winning his prize, Buck drags that bear around for the rest of the day, to the point where it’s starting to become a serious hazard. Eddie reaches out for the bear, trying to take it off his shoulders. “Come on, Buck. Let’s just stop at the car and put it in the trunk so you don’t have to carry it everywhere.”

“First of all, it is a he,” Buck argues, turning away so that Eddie’s hand falls shy of the bear and accidentally lands on his bicep instead. Eddie flushes, feeling the hard muscle under his palm—of course he’s noticed how much bigger Buck has gotten over the years, and yet that hadn’t prepared him.

“Sorry,” Eddie huffs, not removing his hand, “let’s go put him in the trunk.”

“No. He won’t be able to breathe in there.”

“Buck. He is a stuffed animal.”

“A stuffed animal with feelings!” Buck defends childishly. He really takes after Christopher, or maybe Christopher takes after him.

Eddie stares at him incredulously. “The very definition of a stuffed animal is that it does not have feelings.”

“Actually, I think the definition of a stuffed animal is an animal that is stuffed.”

He’s actually so ridiculous, and yet it makes Eddie smile so hard that his cheeks ache. “You are an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you l—” Whatever he was about to say, Buck cuts himself off abruptly and lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You like having friends who are idiots. I mean, look at Chimney.”

“I prefer not to,” Eddie jokes, eliciting another loud snort from his best friend. It’s only when Buck’s arm twitches under his hand that Eddie realizes he’s still touching him. He jerks his hand back, clearing his throat. “So, uh… you hungry?”

“Always,” Buck grins.

“Alright, hotshot. Let’s get you some food.”

After ordering out of a shady-looking food truck, they drag themselves down to the beach to eat dinner. The pier is far enough away that the hectic sounds of the chattering crowd and loud music fade away, replaced by the gentle hum of the ocean. Eddie pulls a picnic blanket out of his bag, spreads it down over the sand, and plops himself down on one side with his legs splayed out.

Buck sits next to him, setting the teddy bear in between them. They have a perfect view of the sun setting over the horizon, casting orangey hues across the water. They eat their food in silence, watching the kids frolicking along the coastline. Eddie can’t help but think of how Christopher would be playing in the sand if he were here, the way he used to when he and Shannon would take him to the beach.

Buck must be thinking the same thing. “Chris won this bear last time we were here, but we lost it in the tsunami,” he confesses, gesturing towards the stuffed animal he’s been inexplicably obsessed with all day. “When I saw it again, I wanted to win it for him. Like a do-over, I guess.”

Oh.

Eddie’s throat feels tight, like he can’t breathe properly. Not only did Buck remember the toy that his kid liked one day five years ago, but he went out of his way to find it and bring it home for him.

“You’re right, though. He used to be so small not that long ago. I think the bear was taller than him.” Buck turns his head from the ocean to look at Eddie, and his eyes crinkle in the corners, the bluest he’s ever seen them. “He’s bigger now. I hope he still likes it.”

Eddie is struck with what can only be described as adoration. The fondness with which Buck speaks of the kid, the thoughtfulness that pervades his every action, the way he looks unreal in the soft glow of the sunset…

This time, Eddie doesn’t even try to stop himself from leaning forward and pressing his lips against Buck’s. His best friend still seems startled, like he never expects Eddie to kiss him, but melts into it easily, tangling his fingers into Eddie’s hair to pull him closer. And there it is again, that all-consuming constant that is Buck—the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hands. Eddie wants to live in it forever.

“What was that for?” Buck asks when they break apart, head tilting curiously to the side.

“Not that you need to earn a kiss from me,” Eddie prefaces, “but I feel like that story earned you a damn kiss, Buck.”

“Wow, is that all it takes to get you all hot and bothered, Eds?” Buck teases, hooking a finger into the front of Eddie’s shirt. His smile makes Eddie’s head go dizzy. “I have a lot of stories of me being a hero, you know. Comes with the job.”

“Yeah?” Eddie responds breathily. “What does a guy have to do to hear these stories?”

Buck laughs, looking at him like he’s stupid. “You don’t have to hear them. You’re always there with me.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Eddie muses. “Good.”

Buck must be able to see the affection in his eyes as he looks at him, because Eddie seems to earn himself a kiss this time. Buck cups Eddie’s cheek, pulling him in. Never in his life has Eddie been kissed like this. There’s something comforting about Buck’s strong arms around him, the stubble along the man’s jaw tickling his skin. It completely shuts his mind off for possibly the first time in his life, and all he can do is feel.

They break apart to the sound of soft music playing in the distance. Eddie follows the sound to the source; a couple has set up a speaker, streaming a romantic playlist from their phones. The women wear long dresses that brush the sand as they sway together, the water lapping gently at their feet. They move as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist, completely lost in each other. It reminds Eddie why he was so taken by dance: two people, connected in bodies and souls. The ultimate expression of love.

Perfect for his purposes of showing Buck romance.

Eddie stands up, brushing off the sand that managed to get past the picnic blanket, and holds his hand out for Buck. He hopes the women won’t mind him stealing their romantic gesture for one of his own. “Come on.”

“Are we leaving?” Buck asks, unable to hide the disappointment from his voice. At least he’s enjoying his day so much that he doesn’t want to go. When Christopher had first suggested this as a date idea, Eddie had expected it to go a lot worse.

Eddie shakes his head and points towards the couple. “No. We’re dancing.”

Surprised, Buck watches his hand warily for a moment to see if he’s bluffing. When he realizes it’s not a joke, he takes Eddie’s hand excitedly and lets him pull him to his feet. “Are you serious?”

“I’m actually a very good dancer,” Eddie teases as he takes the lead, tucking one hand along Buck’s waist and lacing the other with his. He leans in close and whispers, “Just trust me.”

“Always,” Buck responds without hesitation.

Eddie almost expects them to go silent with concentration, focusing on not stepping on each other’s toes, but dancing with Buck is the opposite—he’s so utterly enthralled, his eyes radiating happiness, and he can’t stop nervously talking.

“I’ve never been led before,” Buck says giddily, squeezing his hand on Eddie’s upper arm. “It’s kind of fun, actually. I don’t have to worry as much about stepping on your toes.”

Eddie lets out a chuckle. Of course Buck is thinking the same thing as him. They’re Buck & Eddie, after all. Two sides of the same coin. “Did you know I used to compete in ballroom dancing?” Eddie admits to the utter amusement of the other man.

“No way,” Buck exclaims, eyes widening. “Please tell me there are videos.”

“None that you’re ever going to see,” he retorts with a snort. “And don’t even think about calling my Abuela.”

“Damn it, you’ve uncovered my master plan.”

Eddie twirls Buck in a circle, eliciting a loud giggle from his best friend. As he pulls Buck back into him, Buck places a warm hand on his chest, and Eddie wonders if he can feel how fast his heart is pulsing. Adrenaline courses through his veins, making his cheeks flush and his breath catch. He can’t see anything but Buck’s dizzying smile, can’t feel anything but his touch, can’t hear anything but the soft ins-and-outs of his breaths. It feels like something straight out of a movie—the kind that Eddie used to watch and laugh at because they were all just a figment of some very creative person’s imagination. Nothing in real life ever feels like that. Except it does, because he’s feeling it right now, swept up in it like the tides of the ocean have washed over them and taken residence in the blue of Buck’s eyes. Where somehow his thoughts start sounding like poetry when he’s never read a poem in his life.

Then Buck’s eyes shift, drawn to something behind him. Eddie follows his gaze to the couple from earlier. One of the women is kneeling in the sand, not even caring that her white dress is getting dirty, holding out a ring box. Eddie can feel himself holding his breath, as if the other woman’s answer will have some dramatic impact on his own life when it really won’t matter at all. 

She says yes.

Eddie has to look away when they kiss.

He looks at Buck. Except without warning and seemingly without reason, something has shifted in Buck’s expression, morphing from that bright, infectious happiness into something sadder.

“You know,” Buck says, his voice sound detached as he pulls his hand away from Eddie’s chest and places it back on his shoulder, “those ballroom skills are going to come in handy someday at your wedding. The poor bride will pass out when you twirl her like that.”

Eddie stops dancing.

The words land like a knife to his chest. Maybe it’s because he’s still dizzy from the heady rush of dancing with Buck, of being so close and not having to think about the reason why. Maybe he let his guard down, lost somewhere between the parking lot and the pier. But most of all, maybe he’s finally had it spelled out for him so plainly that he can see that it’s not what he wants at all.

He doesn’t want to dance with a woman at his wedding. He can’t even picture it. Her perfume clinging to his sheets, her shampoo next to his in the bathroom, her name on his mail, her hand rearranging his spice rack—it all feels wrong, even if it’s what he’s been picturing for himself as long as he can remember.

Buck must not notice the direction of his thoughts, because he keeps nervously talking. “Life’s weird, isn’t it? You think you have it all figured out, that you’ve met the person you’re supposed to be with, but nope.”

“Buck, I—”

“Like with Tommy,” he says, shrugging, a sad smile on his face. “Although, honestly, I’m kind of glad that ended when it did.”

“What?” Eddie asks, half-disoriented from the epiphany rattling around in his mind.

“He was never going to be the love of my life,” Buck continues softly, his gaze flitting between Eddie and the two women, now celebrating their engagement with a second slow dance. “I think maybe I’m just not meant to have a love like that.”

“Buck. That’s not true.”

“But it’s okay—I realized I’m happier like this,” Buck explains, gesturing between the two of them. “I would rather spend a lifetime as your best friend than try and fail at romance with anyone else in the world.”

“No, I know you want a relationship. A real one,” Eddie argues, frowning deeply. Buck falling in love, finding his perfect person, getting married, having his own kids. Leaving Eddie. Not being his in the same way ever again. That’s how it’s supposed to be, even if the thought of it makes him nauseous. That’s the whole point of this experiment—so Buck can find someone worthy of him to spend the rest of his life with.

“I did,” Buck admits, eyes turning glassy. “After Abby, I wanted so badly to find my person and have the whole shebang: kids, dog, white picket fence. But I think all I really wanted was to be loved, and Eddie, I know you love me in your own way. That’s enough for me. That’s more than I ever hoped for.”

It hurts to breathe. Buck’s words echo in his mind, reverberating hard against his skull like they’re concrete bricks instead of simple sentences. The quiet thudding in his chest becomes louder and louder until he can hear it in his ears like a thunderous drum.

I know you love me in your own way.

One second—that’s how long it takes for Eddie’s life to change forever. For everything to become so astoundingly, glaringly obvious that it almost knocks him off his feet. He grips Buck’s waist tighter for balance, but Buck simply smiles back at him, like he thinks Eddie is just trying to comfort him. He doesn’t realize that Eddie is about to collapse under the weight of his revelation.

He loves Buck.

And not in the way that Buck thinks.

It’s why things never worked out with Shannon, despite how much he cared for her. It’s why it never felt right with Ana or Marisol, why he always had a pit in his stomach when he was around them, why he had to keep making up excuses as to why he couldn’t bring himself to commit. It’s why he feels so much better, so much happier, so much freer when he’s single and Buck is single and they can just be together without worrying about anyone else.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He pinches between his eyebrow, suddenly feeling an intense wave of nausea crash over him. His knees buckle, and he slowly lowers himself onto the sand, wrapping his arms around his knees and tucking in his head.

This is not okay. He cannot be in love with Buck. He cannot be in love with a man, he just can’t. He’s Eddie Diaz, and Eddie Diaz is straight, and the Earth is round, and that’s just how it is. If he thinks about it for longer than a second, his brain feels like it’s on fire. Because what the hell is he supposed to do if he’s not? Is he supposed to drive down to Texas and tell his teenage son who already hates him that he’s been keeping this secret his whole life? Should he look his stone-cold father in the face and tell him that he’s in love with another man? Should he watch the last bit of affection drain out of his mother’s face when she realizes who her son truly is?

A sharp, familiar panic swells in his chest. Blurry eyes, tightness, a feeling like he might pass out. That loud, all-encompassing fear that makes him feel like he’s about to die, even though he knows in his head that it’s illogical.

“Eddie,” he hears Buck calling out, but his voice is warped like he’s underwater. He sounds scared. Eddie feels his hand hovering over his shoulder, not touching, as if he might break if he does. It’s probably a good thing, because the electricity he feels whenever Buck touches him on top of this budding panic attack might send him into cardiac arrest.

He hears Buck take a deep breath. “Okay, it’s okay, Eddie, I need you to close your eyes for me.” He does. “Okay, good, good. Now, uh… think about your feet turning into Jell-O.”

Of course Buck remembers that random case where Eddie had to explain what he used to stop his panic attacks. Of course he does, because Buck remembers everything about him and Christopher and stores that information in his mind like it’s precious.

God, he loves Buck, and it’s just so, so clear now that it feels like it’s swallowing him whole.

Up to your calves, up to your thighs, up to your pelvis, up to your stomach, up to your chest, up to your arms…

It could be minutes or hours before he starts breathing normally again, but when he opens his eyes, Buck is still there—of course he is—except he looks utterly wrought with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says as soon as Eddie opens his eyes, his lips trembling as he speaks. “I didn’t mean to make you panic like that, Eddie. I don’t know what it was that I said, but—was it the relationship thing? I wasn’t asking you for anything, I swear—”

“Buck.” His voice is rough, but he lifts a heavy hand to cover Buck’s. He hates the worry in Buck’s face. “It’s not you. Just a long day. I’m okay.”

“You can’t seriously think I’m going to buy that,” Buck responds, still shaking. “You just collapsed in front of me, Eddie. That doesn’t happen because of a long day.”

Eddie exhales, eyes sliding shut. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine now.”

“Why are you doing this?” Buck asks. His voice sounds small, hurt, upset. “You were just letting me in, you were opening up to me, but now it feels like you’re shutting me out again like you always do—”

“Shutting you out?” Eddie fires back, his chest tightening with words that ache to burst out of him. “Of everyone in the world, I’ve never shut you out.”

Buck lets out a sarcastic laugh, a stark contrast from before. “Oh, you’ve never shut me out. Wow, Eddie. That’s just precious.”

Eddie’s voice rises, rough, desperate. “What do you think I’ve been doing all these years then, Buck, if not letting you in? Letting you into my home, letting you into my son’s life—”

“Do not bring Christopher into this.”

“Chris is this, Buck. He’s the only reason we work at all.” Eddie’s voice cracks, but he soldiers on, forcibly injecting harshness into his voice to protect himself, like he always does. “Take him out of it and what’s left? Me. And that’s not enough for you.”

It has to be true—how could Eddie ever be enough? Christopher is the best part of him. Christopher is everything good in the world, and Eddie is just raw and ragged and broken. He doesn’t want that for Buck. He wants Buck to have the best, and that’s not him.

Buck takes a step back from him, looking like a kicked puppy. “I just said you were enough.”

“Except I’m not enough, because I don’t love you, Buck.” He has to force the words out of his mouth, and they burn like battery acid. A bold-faced lie, maybe the worst he’s ever told, and yet the most necessary. “I will never love you that way, and you need to find someone who can.”

“Jeez, I didn’t ask you to love me, Eddie,” Buck responds, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment, his eyes welling with unshed tears. “I’m not some pathetic loser pining after his straight best friend.”

Eddie shakes his head, shoving down the aching desperation to tell Buck that he’s wrong, that Eddie is the one who wants him, that he just needs someone to blame for it all and he knows Buck will forgive him someday. “The lines are too blurry. We should never have done this experiment.”

“This was your idea!” Buck shouts, shoving a finger into his face. “You are the one who kissed me! Everything has been on your goddamn terms, Eddie, and now you’re telling me the lines are too fucking blurry.”

He’s right—Eddie knows it better than anyone. And yet he can’t bring himself to accept the responsibility, because then he has to explain why, and he can’t do that. He can never do that.

“I lied to you.”

“What?” Buck asks blankly.

“That day in the storage closet,” he explains, the lie rolling off his tongue like he’d practiced it. “I lied when I said that I didn’t kiss you because you looked like you needed it. That’s exactly why I did it. You were hurting about Tommy and you needed to move on. I helped you do that like a good friend. That’s all this was.”

Buck’s hand flies to his lips, gently touching them, the blood draining out of his face like he’s seen a ghost. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was. You need to accept that.”

“I don’t, because it’s not true,” Buck insists. “I don’t know why you’re lying to me right now, but I know you, and it wasn’t—”

“You clearly don’t know me, Buck,” Eddie says harshly, and yet this time, he’s telling the truth. Maybe nobody really knows him, even if he thought Buck was the closest anyone could get. Maybe he doesn't even know himself. “I’m sorry if that hurt your feelings.”

“I told you not to kiss me again if that was the reason,” Buck whispers, his voice filled with betrayal. Eddie hates himself for making him feel like this. “I told you I couldn’t deal with it, and you’re saying you did it anyway?”

“I shouldn’t have,” Eddie confesses. Everything inside of him hurts so much that it’s starting to feel like nothing. “I thought it was the right thing to do, but maybe I was wrong.”

“Yeah. You were.”

The sun has completely set on the horizon, leaving the two of them in darkness as the water laps at their feet. Buck takes another step back, his chest heaving, his eyes gleaming with anger and hurt. Without uttering another word, he turns and storms up the beach, sand crunching under his boots.

Eddie doesn’t try to go after him. He stands there, watching Buck disappear into the pier, wondering if he’ll be able to fall asleep tonight without Buck beside him in his bed. The wind picks up, carrying away the last scent of his cologne that lingered in the air, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie feels really and truly alone.

*

Chapter Text

For the first time in as long as he can remember, Buck calls in sick to work.

Whatever has been going on in his life—injuries, breakups, existential crises—he’s never wanted to skip a shift. His job has always been a crutch in his life, something he turns to when he has nothing and no one else. And yet, today, the thought of getting out of bed and driving to the firehouse, the thought of seeing Eddie, makes him want to throw up.

Which is why he’s here, alone in his loft, eating a pint of ice cream in his pajamas.

In his defense, the ice cream is equal parts emotional eating and the basic human need for sustenance. Because everything else in his fridge has gone bad. Because he hasn’t been home in two weeks, since that night he first slept in Eddie’s bed.

Eddie.

He lets out a groan, shoving the spoon deeper into his chocolate chip peanut butter ice cream. Everything had been going so well with Eddie up until that day at the pier. Buck was actually happy, maybe for the first time in his life. He felt settled. He felt safe. He felt like he’d finally found somewhere he belonged—and yet when he told Eddie that, it had ruined everything.

Buck always ruins everything.

That’s the only explanation. Eddie was doing fine before Buck started carelessly spilling his guts. They’d spent the whole day laughing, joking, dancing, kissing. It was one of the best days of his life, and he went and shattered it by being too much of himself. Too clingy, too honest, too much. All because he truly believed Eddie would never make him feel like that.

He thought Eddie liked that part of him.

Buck shakes his head. He shouldn’t dwell on the past. Eddie was right when he said that Buck never really knew him, because the Eddie he knew never would have done what he did or said what he said. That Eddie would have known how horribly unwanted it all made Buck feel, like kissing him was an obligation he felt he had to fulfill to maintain their friendship. His Eddie would have rather let him suffer in silence.

When he hits the bottom of the pint, Buck immediately heads to the freezer for a second one, only to find that he’s fresh out of ice cream. He groans, resting his head against the fridge door. All he wants is to drown his sorrows in frozen goodness. Is that too much to ask?

He’s seriously contemplating the pros and cons of getting his ass up to go to the grocery store when there’s a knock at his door. His heart speeds up. Could it be Eddie on the other side? Is he here to take back what he said?

Unfortunately for him, Maddie is waiting impatiently at his doorstep, and without an emotional support child for Buck to occupy himself with. “Hello, brother,” she greets in a strangely formal voice.

“Hello, sister,” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Do you need something?”

“Why must you assume I need something?” Maddie asks, barging inside and taking a seat at the table. He follows her in, rolling his eyes.

“Because Chimney is on shift and you’re here in the middle of the day without your child, which means you’re paying someone to look after her right now.”

“So I can’t hire a babysitter to come visit my dear brother?”

“Not unless the babysitter is me.”

She opens her mouth to protest but seems to realize she’s fighting a losing battle. Her shoulders drop, and she leans back in her chair. “Fine, Howie called me. He said you didn’t come into work today.”

“It’s not like I’m playing hooky. I told Bobby I wouldn’t be there.”

“You told Bobby you were sick,” Maddie explains, looking him up and down surveyingly. “I know it’s been a while since I was a nurse, but I’m pretty sure you look fine.”

Buck feigns a cough. “Definitely sick.”

“Sick in the head, maybe,” she mutters under her breath.

“Wow, rude—”

“No, but seriously, what is wrong with you? You never skip work.” Her gaze falls to the empty ice cream carton on the table. “Are you PMSing or something?”

“Or something,” he replies drily.

“Did you get in a fight with Eddie? Is that why you’re avoiding the station?” she asks perceptively. She’s always known him too well—and she knows now that her assumption was correct from the way he flinches at the man’s name.

“Don’t say I told you so,” he pleads, resting his head on his hands. He already knows he should have listened to his sister when she told him to be careful. Now look where he is—fighting with Eddie. The worst place he could be.

“Tell me what happened,” she says instead, her warm hand squeezing his arm. With her here, it feels less like the world is about to crash on top of him, but he still knows everything’s not going to be okay. He’s not a kid anymore.

“I told Eddie that I was happy with him,” Buck admits, his voice sounding weak in a way that he hardly recognizes. “I told him he was enough for me. That I didn’t need a relationship when I had him.”

“Buck,” Maddie replies, somewhere between scolding and sympathy.

“You don’t have to tell me that it’s pathetic. I already know that,” he continues, face burning with embarrassment. “I know I’m clingy and needy and annoying. I just didn’t think Eddie thought of me that way.”

Anger floods her face. “Did he say that to you?”

“He said he doesn’t love me and I need to find someone who can.” It’s easy to remember the exact words he said when they’ve been echoing in Buck’s mind ever since. They sting coming up his throat, and he has to blink to keep his eyes from welling. He’s not going to cry in front of his sister.

“Okay,” Maddie says, squeezing his arm again, “and why do you think that bothered you so much?”

… What?

He was expecting Maddie to stay angry—curse Eddie out for hurting her brother or even curse Buck out for being such a stupid idiot. But instead, something like understanding flashes across her face, and she becomes eerily calm.

“What do you mean?”

She lets out a hefty puff of air from between her lips. “Buck, you’re the smartest person I know. You don’t need me to spell it out for you.”

“I’m really not in the mood for your mind games right now, Maddie.”

“I’m not playing games,” she says softly, getting up to give him some space. “I just think maybe you should ask yourself why it hurt so much when Eddie said he didn’t love you.”

“He kissed me to make me feel better,” Buck spits out, that achy burn returning to his chest whenever he thinks about it. That icky feeling sweeping across his skin like bugs are crawling all over him. “He kissed me out of pity. How is that not supposed to make me feel like shit?”

“You’re the one who keeps saying he’s straight,” Maddie points out, not unkindly but not holding back. “Why else would a straight guy kiss another man?”

“I… I don’t know,” he admits. The truth is, he’s been trying not to think about the why of it all—to just accept that Eddie is complicated and take what he can get. But all that did was make it worse, because now he’s the one sitting here with a broken heart, and maybe he deserves it. “I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what, Buck? What reason did you want him to have for kissing you?”

His mind floods with Eddie. Eddie in the morning, sleepy with bedhead, shielding Buck’s eyes from the sun with his hand. Eddie in the firetruck, slotting his leg in between Buck’s, touching him just for the sake of touching. Eddie at a call, tenderly fixing his harness and telling him to come back safe. Eddie holding his face in his hands and kissing Buck like it’s the most important thing in the world.

How could he not think that maybe, just maybe, it all meant something more to Eddie?

It meant something more to Buck.

The truth has been sitting in his chest for years, desperate for him to notice, and he’s been desperate to ignore it. But then Eddie had to go and dig his way into Buck’s chest and claw it out of him, unearthing what Buck was so content to let fester until it swallowed him whole. All Eddie did was speed it up.

The truth is that Buck is exactly what he never wanted to be: hopelessly pining for his straight best friend. Except it was inevitable, because his best friend is Eddie, and Buck would fall for Eddie in every fucking universe. 

“I thought maybe he loved me back,” Buck whispers, barely audible, voice cracking on the final word. He can feel his heart splintering apart, pain radiating through his body. For a split second, he thinks he might die—and Buck knows what it feels like to be on the brink of death. Can people die from a broken heart? He thinks he remembers Hen saying something about that once. But he’s also not sure that he’d try to fight it if he could, because everything just feels so hopeless and bleak. He’s so tired of trying to carry it all.

“Oh, Evan…” Maddie comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest. He leans into her as tears roll down his cheeks, holding her hands as if letting go would make her disappear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to figure it out like this.”

Buck’s muscles stiffen up as he pries her hands off of him. “You knew?”

Pity floods her eyes. “Yes, but—”

He shoots up from his chair, spinning around to face his sister. “Why would you let me figure it out?”

She blinks back in confusion. “What?”

“I didn’t want to know.” The ache in his own voice is so startlingly clear, ringing out in the room like it's on display. “I could’ve ignored it. I would have forgiven him eventually. We would have been fine. But now…”

“You can’t just live in denial,” she argues. “You and Eddie need to figure out why you’re so upset with each other before you can fix it.”

He shakes his head in frustration. “There’s no fixing this.”

“Of course there is—”

“I’m in love with him, Maddie.” The words stick in his throat. “Don’t you get it? I… I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I—” He swallows hard. “I kissed him. I acted like he was mine, like I was allowed to want him.”

“Buck,” Maddie warns, no doubt picking up on the spiralling in his voice.

He ignores her. “Now he probably thinks I was using him, or… I don’t even… he probably hates me. He probably thinks I’m disgusting.”

“This was his idea, remember?” she points out, resting a hand on his shoulder that he sharply ducks from. Maddie’s eyes grow sadder as she watches him pace back and forth across his kitchen. “I knew he was going to hurt you eventually. I was just hoping he would figure his own shit out before that happened.”

Her words hardly even register in Buck’s mind—he’s too busy playing over the last two weeks, dissecting every moment with this new knowledge, wincing at every wrong thing he said. He hardly remembers she’s there. Nothing his sister says will help right now.

She must realize this, because she sighs and grabs her purse off the table. “I have to go relieve the babysitter. Just do me one favour, okay?”

“Sure, whatever,” he replies distractedly.

“Come to Bobby’s housewarming on Friday.”

His pacing grinds to an abrupt halt. “Maddie, I can’t.”

“Eddie’s not going to be there,” she explains patiently. “Chimney told me he told Bobby at work today. Which you would have known if you were there.”

Buck frowns. “I don’t know.”

Maddie opens the front door to leave. “Stay for an hour. Be around people who actually care about you. Then you can go home and wallow in your own self-pity.”

He watches her walk out the door and gently shut it behind her. She’s going home to her perfect daughter and loving husband. She has everything that Buck has ever wanted. He’s happy for her—of course he is—but some twisted, bitter part of him wonders how she can know what’s best for him if she doesn’t know what he’s going through.

There’s no way he’s going to that damn party. Not a chance in hell.

*

Buck’s resolve lasts all of five minutes when Maddie shows up to pick him up. It doesn’t help his case that his niece is with her, dressed in the pink cardigan he got her for her last birthday, reaching out for her uncle excitedly and asking him to sit in the backseat with her. How is he supposed to say no to that?

“Don’t forget the casserole,” Maddie reminds Buck as Chimney parks the car right next to Hen and Karen’s in the driveway. Jee-Yun lets out a squeal, clapping her hands together at the sight of the new house, no doubt excited to see the other kids again. Despite himself, Buck can’t help smiling, reaching out to tickle her. She squeals even louder, swatting his hands away.

Chimney glances at them through the rearview mirror. “Buckley. I know my daughter is the prettiest princess in the world, but my wonderful wife told you not to forget the casserole she spent two hours making.”

“Calm down, it’s literally in my lap,” he points out, holding up the large tin of homemade food. The smell makes his mouth water—he hasn’t had the energy to cook lately, surviving on shitty takeout and frozen dinners. He’s pretty sure he’s lost five pounds in the last few days. Yet the promise of a Bobby Nash meal, and his difficult-to-say-no-to sister, is barely enough to get him into the car on Friday afternoon.

Buck takes a deep breath as he gets out of the car, looking up at the brand new Nash-Grant house. He’s glad Bobby and Athena got their happy ending, at least. As the four of them make their way up the steps to the front door, the sounds of music and laughter spill out onto the porch. Chimney rings the doorbell with the hand not holding his daughter’s.

“It’s so big!” Jee-Yun says in wonder as she looks up at the house.

Chimney snorts. “Yeah, your uncle Bobby gets paid the big bucks.”

Buck crouches to her level, ruffling her hair. “Is it big, Jee? Or are you just little?”

“I’m big, too!” she protests, stamping her tiny foot. With a wide grin, Buck lifts her up into the air and over his head. She shrieks with laughter, kicking her legs, the same way she does every time he picks her up, like it’s the first time.

God, he loves his niece. Even just being around his family is already making him feel a little better. Reluctantly, he has to admit that his sister was right—he’s glad he came today. He’s curious to see Athena and Bobby’s new house, too. And Eddie isn’t going to be here. He can just turn his brain off, enjoy some good company, and then, like Maddie said, go home and wallow in his own self-pity.

The door swings open, and Bobby stands there with the biggest smile on his face. “Welcome,” he says, ushering them inside. The foyer is wide and stunning, intentionally decorated to give off a homey feeling. It looks exactly how Athena described it—their perfect dream house.

Buck takes it all in, sure that he’ll end up coming here more times than he can count. “This place is great, Cap.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Bobby says, clapping him on the back. “And I’m glad you could make it. I was worried after you called in sick. What kind of illness could keep Evan Buckley from work?”

Buck plays along, though he knows Bobby is clearly onto him. “Oh, you know. I must have caught something nasty.”

Bobby nods. “I hear something’s going around. Eddie mentioned earlier he was feeling a bit under the weather too.”

Buck hums in acknowledgment, avoiding his captain’s eyes.

“Probably wasn’t as bad as what you had, though,” Bobby continues, caught up in his musing. “Good thing, otherwise he would’ve missed the party.”

Buck spins to face him, eyes wide. “What?”

“He’s in the living room, by the way. I know you were probably looking for him as soon as you pulled up.”

Buck’s mouth goes dry. Eddie is here? At the party? He glances at Maddie, who looks far too guilty to have not known about this before. A pit forms in his stomach, but he tries to keep his face neutral as Bobby watches him. Jee-Yun pulls on his hand impatiently.

He swallows hard. “I thought he wasn’t coming.”

“Uncle Buck, I wanna see Mara!” Jee declares, bouncing with anticipation. He squeezes her hand reassuringly, as if to say just a minute.

“He must have felt better,” Bobby guesses, shrugging. “Why don’t you take Jee-Yun to the living room? The other kids are playing in there.”

“I can help you in the kitchen,” Buck offers instead, glancing down the hall to try to find the room. “I’m sure you guys have so much to do—”

“Nope,” Bobby says. “Everything’s all set.”

“Uncle Buck,” Jee wines.

Buck panics. “Or… Chimney, are you sure you locked the car? Let me check for you.”

“I definitely locked the car,” Chimney replies, looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “Just take my kid to the living room, man.”

Maddie must sense his fear, because she places a hand on his arm. “Buck, just go in. You’ll have to do it eventually.” She’s right about that. Unless he plans on quitting his job, he’s going to have to face Eddie.

Suddenly, quitting his job doesn’t sound that bad.

Taking a shaky breath, Buck scoops his niece up to carry her inside. She’s getting too old for this, but it’s more for him than her—he can focus on the weight of the kid in his arms instead of the dread in his stomach. His heart hammers as he follows Bobby’s lead through the hall.

The living room is huge, attached to the kitchen in an open-concept design. Trays of food line the island, smelling like heaven, and Athena is refilling a pitcher with what looks like homemade lemonade. The kids are gathered on the rug in front of the TV, playing some game on Denny’s switch. Hen and Karen are seated together on the couch.

But when Buck’s eyes land on Eddie, perched in an armchair with a beer in his hand, everything else might as well disappear.

Buck freezes. He’s only ten feet away. Eddie doesn’t notice him immediately, too engrossed in conversation with Hen and Karen. His eyebrows are furrowed, lines forming at the corners of his eyes, and his lips are set in a frown as he talks. Buck wonders what they’re talking about that has him looking like that. Maybe he’s telling them about their fight at the pier. Maybe Buck should just leave right now and spare himself the embarrassment.

Right when he’s about to turn around, Jee-Yun makes the decision for him.

“Uncle Buck, put me down!” she yells, wriggling restlessly in his arms. He nearly drops her in surprise, fumbling before setting her down gently on the hardwood. The second her feet hit the floor, she’s darting toward the other kids and plopping herself down between Mara and Denny.

That’s when Eddie finally looks up, wide-eyed.

Their eyes meet. For a second, Eddie looks as startled as Buck feels, like he didn’t expect to see him either. He shifts in his seat, looking away almost immediately.

Hen frowns, glancing between the two firefighters. “Hi, Buck. Come sit with us.”

Buck rubs the back of his neck. “Let me just see if Athena needs—”

“Go sit down right now,” Athena scolds, waving a serving spoon at him threateningly.

Left with no other choice, Buck hesitantly takes a seat on the other end of the couch, as far as possible from Eddie. Hen’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t say anything.

Karen, on the other hand, has no such proclivities. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing,” Buck and Eddie say in unison. Eddie opens his mouth as if to say something else but decides against it, taking a sip of his beer instead. Buck just crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes.

Hen snorts. “Right, yeah, nothing’s going on here.” She places a hand on her wife’s knee. “Babe, word of advice—don’t get involved with these two. They will drive you crazy.”

Karen pouts. “But they remind me of us before we got together.” After the words pass her lips, she seems to realize what she just said, because her eyes go wide and she clasps a hand over her mouth.

Except the damage has already been done. Any other day, the two of them probably would have laughed off the innocent comment—but not today. Eddie’s jaw tightens as he sets his beer down with a quiet thunk and stands abruptly. “Excuse me,” he mutters. Without another word, he strides out of the room.

He can’t even stomach the thought of loving Buck, can he? Buck’s eyes begin to sting, burning with embarrassment, and he looks down at his lap to hide it from the others. He’s not sure how much success he has with that, but he’s more focused on not bursting into tears in front of the kids.

Utterly distraught, Karen begins to apologize. “I’m so sorry,” she blurts, standing up, presumably to follow Eddie. “I didn’t mean to—”

Hen catches her hand gently, shaking her head. “Give him some space.”

The room is quiet for a prolonged moment as Hen rubs Karen’s back comfortingly. Athena brings over another glass of wine, topping off their glasses with a meaningful glance. Chimney whispers something to Maddie, who elbows him in response. Even the kids seem to pick up that something is wrong—Jee-Yun scoots towards Buck, tapping his knee. “Why did Eddie leave?”

Buck clears his throat uncomfortably. “He must not be feeling well again, Jee.”

She pouts, wide brown eyes looking like little saucers. “Do you think he misses Christopher? I miss Christopher.”

Buck’s heart clenches in his chest. Everything feels so fractured—Eddie mad at him, Christopher gone. He just wants it back the way it was.

“Me too, Jee,” he replies, carding his fingers through her hair. “Me too.”

He’s sick of sitting on his ass and waiting for things to change. Buck has never been a passive person—he goes after what he wants. And what he wants is to forget these stupid, invasive feelings and have his best friend back. His family back.

He stands abruptly, haphazardly throwing an explanation to the room. “I’m gonna use the restroom.”

Eddie didn’t manage to get too far. He’s standing in the foyer, eyeing the front door like he’s deciding if he should make a run for it or not. His face is a mess of emotions, for once unreadable. Buck briefly wonders if he should just leave him alone like Hen said.

Instead, Buck leans against the wall and makes himself known. “Your car wasn’t in the driveway.”

Eddie startles, looking up at him. “Buck—”

“It's kind of hard to make a quick getaway without the getaway car.”

“I wasn’t leaving,” Eddie defends, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Let me guess. Chimney told you I wouldn’t be?”

“The one and only.”

“Maddie told me you were sick,” Buck explains, narrowing his eyes at the man. “You don’t look sick.”

“Neither do you,” Eddie fires back. His expression softens, a touch of concern appearing in the lines of his face. “You didn’t come to work.”

“No.”

“You always come to work.”

“Not always.”

Eddie looks at him incredulously. “Your leg got crushed by a firetruck and you still came to work.”

“And you were pissed at me for that, remember?” Buck responds. He doesn’t want to fight anymore, wants to just tell Eddie he forgives him for the kiss and move on and go back to how things were, but the words that come out of him are bitter and twisted. The pain that has been simmering inside of him only gets stronger and angrier the more he looks at Eddie. "I'm always doing the wrong thing, right? Selfish Buck who always makes bad decisions. Pitiful Buck who needs you to help him move on from his ex-boyfriend."

“Do you really want to do this here?” Eddie asks tersely, looking around as if someone could hear them. Buck’s not sure exactly when it was that Eddie became embarrassed by him. No one could possibly hear them—they’re all in the living room, probably rejoicing that these two finally left so they don’t have to deal with the awkwardness.

“Where should we do it then, Eddie?” Buck asks almost mockingly. “Are you gonna drag me into another storage closet?”

Eddie winces like he’s been slapped. That hurts more than the cutting words he tossed around at the pier. Words can always lie, but that reaction was visceral, straight from the heart. There’s his final answer. Eddie played his part so well he convinced Buck he might actually love him back, but he never actually wanted Buck at all.

Buck claps his hands together slowly. “I think you’re in the wrong career, man. You should go into acting. Really had me fooled.”

With every word that comes out of his mouth, Eddie’s face twists more and more. It shouldn’t be so difficult for him to hear—it’s only the truth. 

“I did this for you,” Eddie points out, clenching his fists together at his sides. “Don’t act like I’m some villain.”

“I didn’t ask you to do this for me.” Buck’s face burns hot with shame. Eddie doesn’t get to act like this whole thing was altruistic when he must have known it would end up like this.

Eddie drags a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Do you really think I wanted to hurt you?”

“Honestly? I don’t know anymore.”

A moment of tense silence passes between them. Eddie exhales heavily, slow and controlled past his lips. When he speaks, his voice is hollow and tired. “Then I guess I was right about you not knowing me.” Almost robotically, he lifts a hand and pulls the front door open. “Tell Bobby I said congrats on the house.”

Without thinking, Buck reaches out and pushes the door shut firmly. “No. You’re not leaving. You don’t get to just walk away.”

White-knuckled, Eddie’s hand lingers on the doorknob. Then, like a fuse going out all of a sudden, he snaps. The tiredness evaporates, replaced by something raw and fiery. He lurches forward, crowding Buck back against the door, caging him in with his arms. “What do you want from me, Buck?" His voice is hysterical. "You don’t want me to stay. You don’t want me to go. How do I make this easy for you?”

“Nothing about this is easy,” Buck spits out. He doesn’t back down, his gaze locked with Eddie’s. Light streams in from the window, making Eddie’s eyes look golden and wild like a lion. Buck wants to reach out, touch him, make him feel better. He doesn’t.

“Nothing about you is easy,” Eddie whispers, frustrated. “You are infuriating. Everything about you makes me—”

“What?” Buck interrupts defiantly, eyes narrowing. “Makes you what?”

Eddie’s jaw begins to tremble, his chest rising and falling heavily as his breathing picks up. For a moment, Buck thinks he might be having another panic attack. But instead of collapsing to the floor, something else happens—his hot, rough hands find Buck’s jaw, gripping tightly as Eddie’s lips crash against his.

This kiss is not like their other kisses. It’s not gentle, sweet, or romantic—it's bruising, frenzied, like Eddie is trying to scream at him through his lips. Buck’s fingers weave into the collar of Eddie’s shirt, tugging desperately to bring him closer. His back crashes against the front door, probably hard enough to leave a mark, but he doesn’t even feel it.

Eddie’s teeth find his bottom lip, biting at the skin to get him to open up. As rebellious as he feels, Buck still acquiesces. The heat of Eddie is all-consuming, every sensation on every inch of his skin. The rest of the world is long gone—it’s just Eddie’s rough hands and whatever is left of Buck.

Neither pulls back. It’s like they both know that once this ends, they may never get another chance. Whatever Eddie told him before, Buck knows in an instant that it was a lie. He knows Eddie wants this. He can feel it—the desperation, the panic, the need, all tangled up together like their bodies. But he also knows Eddie well enough to know that he's not going to give into whatever this is easily.

He tastes salt as Eddie kisses him harder, his hands roaming across the expanse of Buck’s back. Eddie’s crying. It physically hurts him, like someone’s just stabbed him in the chest. He wants to pull back and tell Eddie that it’ll be okay, that they can figure this out together, but Eddie holds him so close that he can tell he doesn’t want him to let go. He clings to Buck like a life vest, and all of the anger and hurt drains out of him in an instant.

He should have known. He should have seen that Eddie was struggling so much.

His fingers brush the tears off Eddie’s cheeks, hoping that the touch conveys what he can’t say out loud. It’s gentle where the kiss is rough, comforting where the kiss is frantic—and yet it only makes the tears come faster.

“Eddie,” Buck says warningly against the other man’s lips without breaking away.

Eddie shakes his head, a silent plea.

Buck is about to respond when he hears the floorboards creak behind him, followed by a sharp gasp. The two of them break apart hastily, turning to face the hallway. Wide-eyed, Bobby is staring at them, his lips parted in surprise. No sound comes out of his mouth for a good minute.

Face burning with heat, Buck stutters out, “Cap, I— we…”

Shit.

This is not good. Eddie is not going to take this well. Sure, they’ve kissed in public before, but not in front of their family. Even Tommy had somehow managed to keep his mouth shut, because it hadn’t gotten back to them as far as he knew. But now, there’s no denying what Bobby has just caught them doing.

They have no choice but to explain, and yet no explanation to offer.

He glances at Eddie, steeling himself for the worst. Eddie’s breathing is laboured, and his eyes are unfocused and glassy, like he’s just been ripped from a dream. The confusion slowly clears from his expression as he realizes what’s happening, and it is quickly replaced by pure, unadulterated panic.

“Eddie,” Buck says again, reaching out for him. Eddie darts backwards, removing himself from Buck’s vicinity like he’ll catch on fire from his touch. As much as he wishes it didn’t, it still hurts when Eddie pulls away, even if he understands why he's doing it. 

He wishes it was easier, less complicated. But it’s not.

Instead of responding, Eddie addresses Bobby. “Cap, this isn’t…” 

“I just wanted to see that you were both okay,” Bobby answers. His voice is even, carefully crafted like he’s trying not to spook a stray animal. “I should go back inside.”

“No,” Eddie says hoarsely. “I should go.”

Bobby shakes his head, holding out a hand pacifyingly. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t.” Eddie’s voice wavers, like he’s trying to convince himself instead of their captain, like he can’t even believe what he just did. “You didn’t interrupt anything, because nothing is going on.”

Bobby’s expression falters, and he looks at Buck for a brief moment, as if afraid that he might break. “Are you sure—”

“Never been more sure.” Eddie’s voice cracks on the last word. He takes a step back towards the door and forces a smile onto his face. “I’ll see you at work, Cap.”

Buck knows in every fibre of his being that Eddie is lying through his teeth. He can see it in the fakeness of his smile, the sadness in his eyes, the way he hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. Buck knows that Eddie wants to be with him. But Buck is tired of begging people to stay—he can’t do it anymore. If Eddie wants to leave, if he doesn’t think this thing between them is worth fighting for even if it’s messy and hard, then Buck isn’t going to be the one who stops him.

He holds his breath as Eddie walks out the door, praying he’ll change his mind and turn around.

He doesn’t.

As the door slams shut, Bobby’s hand comes to rest on Buck’s shoulder. The weight of his touch is like an anvil, and Buck wishes he could simply crumple under it. Bobby’s voice is full of pity. “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” Buck responds, his tone more biting than he intends it. He pauses, breathing out a long exhale through his teeth. “Sorry. Not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have come out here,” Bobby says again, as if he truly believes this whole thing was his fault. It’s not. It’s not his fault or Maddie’s fault or Buck’s fault. It’s not even Eddie’s fault.

“It wouldn’t have mattered.”

And that’s the truth, isn’t it? This is always how it was going to end. Eddie’s life has always been headed in one direction, and nothing either of them wants will ever change that.

Buck doesn’t blame him. He understands. He knows what it would cost Eddie to love him back and say it out loud. He knows what he would lose. He knows how much more complicated everything would get.

Buck isn’t worth all that.

If he really loves Eddie, maybe the best thing he can do is let him go. Take himself out of the equation. Make the choice easier. Maybe then Eddie can be happy with the decision he’s forcing himself to make.

And maybe, one day, Buck will learn to live with it.

*

Chapter Text

As soon as the door closes behind him, Eddie is sliding against it and hyperventilating. The panic comes on faster than it ever has, rolling over him not in waves but in an unending assault. His ribs hurt from exertion, and his vision is going blurry; he feels like he might pass out on Bobby’s front porch.

He tries to imagine his feet turning into Jell-o, but he can’t focus on the sensation. His mind is too preoccupied replaying the moment his lips touched Buck’s. He hadn’t meant to kiss him again—ever again—too afraid of what would come of it. Content to deny, deny, deny… content to blame his memory for betraying him and tricking him into believing something that wasn’t true.

He can’t deny it anymore.

Kissing Buck is unlike anything he’s ever experienced in his life. It’s like coming home, but it’s also like being set on fire. It’s how everyone has always described it to him, when he’d resigned himself into believing that they were lying or he was broken or maybe even both. As hard as he tried to push away the feeling, he couldn’t.

There’s only one explanation: Eddie’s gay.

Eddie’s gay, and it feels like the world is ending.

Maybe he’s being dramatic. There are worse things in the world than realizing you like men and you’re in love with your best friend—especially when it is painfully obvious that your best friend loves you right back. There is simply no denying the fact that Eddie Diaz loves Evan Buckley, and Evan Buckley loves Eddie Diaz. Except, for Eddie, that only makes it worse, because he knows that he’s not just breaking his own heart by pulling away.

And it’s not that he wants to pull away—he wants nothing more than to open this door and go to Buck. He just can’t. It’s like something is grabbing hold of his legs and preventing him from running back inside. And when Bobby, his father figure for all intents and purposes, had caught them together… well, that hadn’t exactly brought up the best memories for him.

Eddie grabs his chest and tries to slow his breathing. He can hear the music and laughter from inside, the sounds of his family enjoying and having fun without him, while he’s stuck outside having a panic attack. He squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on the sound, pretending he’s in there with them and everything is okay.

Alright, that’s good. Slow and steady.

The panic ebbs slowly, but Eddie is impatient—he needs to get out of here. If someone were to hear him and come outside… He can’t let anyone see him like this, not again. Eddie is a man, a fighter. He’s not embarrassed of his panic attacks, but he’s also not proud of them. He wishes he could just deal with things in a normal way like everyone else. He wishes he wasn’t so broken all the time.

Head still spinning, he walks down a few blocks before he orders an Uber. As he waits, the little car on his screen growing closer, he watches the people around him. A couple pushes their baby in a stroller; a little girl chases squirrels around her front lawn; a teenage boy learns how to ride a bike. Little snapshots of idyllic life. Bobby and Athena picked a nice neighbourhood to call their own. The kind of neighbourhood Eddie grew up in. The perfect life that all children should have, with a mother and a father and a cul-de-sac.

Except Eddie knows that’s not true—he’s seen love in so many forms. He’s seen Hen and Karen raise Denny into a young man who treats the other kids with such grace and gentleness. He’s seen Athena and Michael flourish after deciding not to stay together for the kids, embracing who they are as individuals but also finding the loves of their lives. He’s seen Buck and Tommy—okay, maybe not those two. But Buck finding himself after coming out and never trying to hide or deny who he was.

The point is that, while he knows that life can go in many different ways, with winding twists and turns that you might have never expected, this is hard for Eddie to come to terms with for himself. The eldest son, the protector… the kid who was told that he was never enough of a man. Just the last time he saw his parents in person, they had decided he wasn’t enough of a father to keep his own son. They’d taken Christopher away because he’d made one—albeit really, really bad—mistake.

What would they do if they found this out? Keep Christopher forever, with no hope of return? Fight for custody, because Eddie can’t give Christopher the life he promised, with a mom and a dad like the kid has never had for more than a few weeks at a time?

Rain has started to batter down on his shoulders by the time the driver picks him up in a beat-up Toyota. He tries to chat with Eddie the whole drive, rambling between swipes of the windshield wiper. Eddie tries to be polite, humming when he figures it appropriate despite not listening closely, his attention locked elsewhere.

There’s a picture of a kid up on the dash. Maybe seven years old, wearing a baseball cap, smiling toothily at the person behind the camera. He reminds Eddie of Christopher at that age. Right about the time they moved to L.A. Right about when they first met Buck.

At the next gap in the one-sided conversation, Eddie asks, “Is that your kid?”

The driver looks back, surprised, as if he hadn’t expected Eddie to speak, and nods. “My son. The light of my life.”

“He’s cute,” Eddie replies. He feels like he can’t breathe again. He misses Christopher like a missing limb.

“You got one?” the man asks after a minute, a hint of pity in his voice. He must be able to see it on Eddie’s face—he’s not been good at hiding his emotions lately. He needs to fix it before he tries going back to work, or else everyone will see through him in two seconds.

Fuck, he can’t even think about going back to work right now. The thought of it—of seeing Buck, of seeing Bobby—makes him want to throw up in the backseat of this Uber. He wishes he could tell the man to just keep driving, far away, as far as he can get with the money in Eddie’s bank account.

“I got one,” Eddie eventually replies. “He lives in Texas.”

Texas is pretty far.

“Ah,” the man says like he understands. “With his mother?”

Eddie wishes it was that simple. He wishes desperately that she was here, just like he does every day. Before Buck, Shannon was his best friend. He could really use a best friend right about now. But more than that, he wishes he could tell her that he’s sorry. That he didn’t mean to be dishonest with her. That he didn’t know until now why things never worked out between them. That he loved her. That he’s in love with Buck.

But he can’t say any of that.

“His mother’s dead,” Eddie whispers into the quiet cab. Glancing in the rearview mirror, the driver doesn’t say another word until he pulls up to Eddie’s house, no doubt realizing that he’s not getting paid enough to have this conversation. Eddie doesn’t blame him.

He gets out of the car across from his driveway. The rain has worsened from a light drizzle to a downpour as he walks towards the house. His hair drips as he steps inside, tracking pools of water into the foyer. Christopher’s extra pair of shoes are still by the front door, exactly where he left them all those months ago. Christopher’s favourite video games are still stacked on the shelf. Christopher’s drawings are still displayed on the fridge.

The house is eerily silent. No documentaries playing on the TV. No arguments over math homework. No messy cooking in the kitchen. No family. He stands in the empty house, unmoving, listening for any signs of life. There’s none except for the beating of his own heart in his ears.

What does he have to lose?

It’s as much of an answer as a question. He can’t stay here alone any longer. The walls are closing in on him, a reminder of what he used to have, a reminder of everything he’s lost. He can hear his mother’s voice in these walls, telling him Christopher is better off with his grandparents. Maybe she’s right. Maybe they’ve always been right…

Or maybe they’ve always been wrong, and he’s been wasting his life for nothing.

Eddie grabs his keys and sets the GPS for El Paso.

*

The kitchen is hot, all broken AC and southern weather, as Eddie sits at the counter, sipping on his iced tea. His mother is tidying up, scrubbing a stove that’s already spotless. He can feel his blood pressure rising just by watching her, the kind of woman who is never satisfied despite everything she has, who gets in the way of her own happiness. He doesn’t want to be like that.

“Your dad will be back with Christopher soon,” says Helena Diaz, her voice tense and on edge. She doesn’t turn around to speak to him. “If we’d known you were coming, honey, I would have planned better.”

“It’s a Saturday,” Eddie points out, playing with the lemon on the rim of his glass. “Why is he at school in the first place?”

“He had a chess club meeting.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Their tournament is coming up,” she supplies easily. “They have to practice extra hard to get ready.”

“Chris likes to sleep in on Saturdays,” Eddie says, thinking back to the many mornings he’d spent sneaking around the kitchen with Buck to make breakfast without waking up the kid. “He likes to wake up at noon and eat Bu—uh, eat pancakes in front of the TV.”

He kicks himself for changing his words. Buck doesn’t deserve to be edited out of Christopher’s life. But that’s Eddie’s instinct when he’s around his parents—edit, censor, restrict. Never be honest. Never show vulnerability.

His mother clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “We don’t eat in front of the TV, Eddie. You know this.”

“Right,” Eddie scoffs. He was never going to be the kind of father that made rules like that. He doesn’t even want to think about the countless memories he would have lost out on. “How could I forget?”

His mother doesn’t seem to find that worthy of a response, and they fall into an uncomfortable silence again. The clock above the coffee maker ticks unceremoniously. Eddie shifts in his seat, watching time pass by slowly. It feels like he’s eight years old again waiting to leave for school.

His tea is long gone, but Eddie sips the melted ice through the straw. It makes an unpleasant slurping sound, and his mother finally turns around with a sharp look on her face. He winces like he’s been scolded even though she hasn’t said a word. “Sorry.”

Helena opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but she’s cut off by the sound of the door creaking open. He hears his dad’s voice in the foyer before he sees him, seemingly talking to Christopher about the chess club. “—not playing as well as usual,” he manages to make out. “You need to step it up for next week if you want to win.”

“Sorry, grandpa,” Christopher’s voice responds, sounding dejected. Eddie’s blood is boiling before his dad even walks into the room. That is not the sound of a happy kid like his parents have been claiming for months. That’s the sound of Eddie when he was Christopher’s age.

Chris doesn’t walk into the room on his own. He’s holding onto his abuelo’s arm, who has the kid’s crutches swung over his shoulder like they’re useless. When his son sees him standing in the kitchen, he freezes, eyes blowing wide with shock. It makes Eddie’s heart thud nervously in his chest—this could go very badly. Maybe he should have called. Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all.

“Hey, buddy,” Eddie offers in greeting. Months without seeing his kid—his own flesh and blood—except through a blurry phone screen, and now he’s right in front of him. He doesn’t know what to do, how to act, what to say. He doesn’t want to make this worse, but he doesn’t know how to make it better.

It turns out that all he’s had to do this whole time is be here.

“Dad?” Christopher whispers, dropping his hand from Ramon’s arm. Without hesitation, he rushes towards Eddie as fast as he can, who hurries to meet him in the middle. The kid throws his arms around his neck—and wow, he’s tall enough to reach now without Eddie bending down—and Eddie buries his head into the crook of his shoulder.

“God, I’ve missed you, Chris,” Eddie whispers, smoothing a hand over the kid’s hair. “You can’t even imagine how much.”

Christopher clings to him like he’s afraid to let go. “Why are you here?”

“I needed to see you,” he confesses. “I really needed to see you.”

Chris pulls back just enough to see his dad’s face. “Did something happen?”

Eddie hesitates. He doesn’t want to pile his problems onto his kid, but he did promise Chris that he would never lie to him again. “Yeah, buddy. Something happened.”

A resigned, sad expression crosses Christopher’s face. “Did someone die?”

Eddie’s chest hurts. His kid has been through so much, survived so much, but he still has scars like his dad. The scars that Eddie tried so hard to shield him from. He rubs Christopher’s arms comfortingly. “No, no one died.”

Christopher’s face relaxes a bit, but he still looks on edge. “Is Buck okay?” is the next thing that he asks.

Eddie doesn’t have an answer for that one. He’s not sure he can describe the heartbroken look on Buck’s face when he left that party as ‘okay,’ but he also doesn’t want to scare Christopher for no reason.

Chris must notice his hesitation, because he becomes instantly agitated. “Is Buck in the hospital? Did he get hurt again?”

“No, Chris. Buck is fine.” Eddie tries to calm him down, cradling his son’s face in his hands as he winds down from his panicked state. “Hey, buddy, just breathe. Buck is safe. He’s probably at home making cookies with Jee-Yun right now.”

Listening to his dad’s words, Christopher’s breathing evens out, and he seems a lot better after hearing that Buck isn’t mortally wounded. Eddie thinks he might finally be able to focus on why he’s here—except he’d long forgotten that his parents are still in the room, and this whole display seems to have set them off.

Helena crosses her arms. “He talks about Buck a lot. He’s very attached.” She says the name like it’s made of poison, and if Eddie had more energy to give her, it would sincerely piss him off.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie responds, only half paying attention to her, all his focus on comforting his son. “It’s his Buck we’re talking about.”

“What does that mean?” his father interrupts, an accusatory tone in his voice. Eddie knows that tone—he’s very familiar with it and has been for as long as he can remember. He knows what Ramon is insinuating, the same thing people have always assumed about him and Buck. It’s the same way his father looked at him when Buck showed up to try to convince Christopher to stay. As if he’s warning Eddie. As if he knows.

Only, this time, he’s right, and Eddie’s not ready to admit it.

“It means that Buck is family,” Eddie says instead, still telling the truth with his whole chest. Buck is family. “Buck is my best friend, and he’s Christopher’s best friend, too.”

“Best friends with a kid? Isn’t that a bit strange?” his mother says.

“I’m not a kid,” Christopher protests. Eddie squeezes his arm reassuringly, but his parents completely ignore the remark.

Helena’s expression shifts into one of faux concern—another classic. “Anyway, I’m not sure friendship should be your biggest concern right now, honey.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Eddie can’t help but fire back.

She smiles at him pityingly. “I’m just saying, you’re not in your twenties anymore. I love you, Eddie, and I don’t want you to be alone forever.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Buck doesn’t count,” his dad mocks, raising his eyebrows. “You know what people will say about you if you stay single and spend all your time with another man.”

There it is.

Eddie’s mouth goes dry. It’s like a knife straight to his chest. As little as he cares now about what his father thinks, it’s never not going to hurt to hear the man make disparaging remarks about who Eddie is. Even if he doesn’t know that Eddie is… that Eddie is… that Eddie is gay.

It settles easier in his mind, this time, now that he’s had a chance to sit with it on the long drive to Texas. It makes more sense than he’s ever been willing to admit—why he was so comfortable pretending to be Buck’s boyfriend. Kissing him. Wanting him the way he so desperately has for as long as he can remember, content to leave the feeling without a name.

Maybe it’s with a bit of defiance that Eddie settles into the label, staring his father in the eyes. A little flare of rebellion in his gut that grows into something dangerous and threatening. Why do his parents get to decide what is right and good? Why can’t Eddie choose for himself? Why does he not deserve to be happy the same way other people do?

He knows he shouldn’t, and that he’ll probably regret it later, but the words just slip out of him.

“Buck counts.”

Three pairs of eyes widen. His father’s face goes rigid; his mother’s pales. Christopher just looks confused, glancing between his dad and his grandparents like he’s caught between a rock and a hard place.

Eddie swallows hard around the knot in his throat—he knows what he’s admitted, and yet he doesn’t know what comes next. He could get out of this. He could explain it away, say that Buck counts because he’s his best friend and their friendship is not nothing. He knows they would believe him, because it’s what they want to hear—that their son is exactly who they raised him to be. He could walk back into the safety of being Edmundo Diaz and let it slowly suffocate him.

But he’s just so, so tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of denying. Tired of being like them and standing in the way of his own happiness. And all for what? Approval from two people who will never truly give that to him? Who will always believe he’s not enough?

Buck thinks he’s enough.

Buck.

Eddie’s mind floods with Buck. His blue eyes sleepy first thing in the morning. His dazzling smile distracting Eddie from the simplest tasks. His warm hands on Eddie’s shoulder, back, arms… His soft curls lit by the orangey hues of the sunset.

Buck is love. Buck is joy.

If Eddie ever wants a shot at the kind of happiness that—for the first time in his life—he thinks he might deserve, then there’s only one answer. There’s only one choice, and despite what he does for work every day, it’s the riskiest one he’s ever had to make.

He looks his father cold dead in the eyes. “Buck counts, and people can say whatever the hell they want about it, because they’ll be right.”

His father sucks in a sharp breath of air. “Dios santo, Edmundo…”

Eddie ignores him. He couldn’t care less about what Ramon Diaz has to say about this. Instead, he leans down to face the one person whose opinion matters to him. Christopher’s face is screwed up—whether in confusion or unhappiness, Eddie isn’t entirely sure. He just hopes that he can come out of this without completely destroying his relationship with his kid.

“Chris,” Eddie begins, an explanation on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t know where to start. The day he and Buck made their one-month deal? The day he kissed Buck for the first time? The day he realized he loved him? All he knows is that he has to tell Christopher everything—he’s not making the same mistake twice.

“You took Buck to the pier,” Christopher says quietly instead of asking for an explanation.

Eddie’s lips part in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Because now you know you love him.”

… Huh?

Eddie’s mind fires on all cylinders for a moment, so overwhelmingly loud and frantic that he can’t even make out a single coherent thought. And then, in an instant, it goes entirely blank, and all he can do is stare at his son who has just turned his life upside down once again.

“When I fell into the water,” Christopher explains slowly, “Buck jumped in after me. The people who found me thought he was my dad, because only a dad would do that.”

“Chris—”

“I thought if you went back, you would finally get it,” Christopher continues. “Why we’re a family.”

God, his kid is smart. Probably the smartest in the world. Eddie should have known he would have figured it out before even he did. At a loss for words, he drops to his knees and holds onto his son’s arms to steady himself. In a way, he’s asking for his forgiveness, but maybe also his permission—a confession, of sorts.

“You knew?” Eddie asks his kid, voice raw and thin like a rope about to break.

“I had time to think,” Christopher says, looking around the room as if to remind them both where they are. El Paso, where neither of them should be. A place that isn’t and never has been their home. “About why you did… that.”

Eddie swallows hard. He knows they have to talk about what brought them here. He needs to tell Christopher why he did what he did, because he knows now. He knows, and it’s fucked up and messy, but it happened, and he’s his dad, and they’re going to move past it together.

They have a twelve hour car ride ahead of them, after all.

He squeezes Christopher’s arm. “I will explain everything. I promise. No more secrets.”

Chris nods. “I know.”

Eddie presses his forehead against his son’s. “I miss your mom a lot.”

A sad smile spreads across Christopher’s face. “Me too.”

“What do you say we go visit her when we get home?” Eddie asks hopefully. He holds his breath as he awaits his son’s response. Chris never said that he wanted to move home, but Eddie can tell he isn’t happy here. And Eddie is his dad—he knows that what is best for his kid is to be with the people who love him unconditionally.

Eddie and Buck. His parents.

Christopher’s face lights up. “Can we bring flowers?”

Eddie smiles softly. After the longest and toughest months of his life, the missing piece of his soul slots back into place like it never left. “Yeah, buddy. We can bring flowers.”

“You can’t just take him,” his mother interrupts hysterically, a bucket of cold water over their warm moment. “You’re completely upending his life—”

“No, mom,” Eddie fires back, his voice firm and unwavering. “You upended his life by keeping him here. I am his father, and he should be with me.”

He knows he’s doing the right thing when Christopher’s ears perk up when he calls himself his father. He knows Chris missed hearing that as much as he missed saying it. He knows that he is where Christopher belongs.

His mother’s face screws up with frustration and anger, and Eddie knows this is about to be a fight. As much as he’s failed at protecting his son recently, the kid does not need to see this side of his grandparents—he wants Chris to keep seeing them as he does now, not as the people who probably fucked his dad up beyond repair. Christopher deserves that, even if they don’t.

He rubs the kid’s back. “Why don’t you go to your room and pack up what you need? I’ll get the rest shipped back as soon as we can.”

Christopher frowns suspiciously, glancing between the two adults. “Dad…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Do you trust me?”

With a sigh, Christopher acquiesces with a nod. Eddie grabs the crutches that Ramon is still holding hostage and hands them to his son, who reluctantly heads towards his room, glancing back curiously before disappearing through the door.

Eddie straightens his spine, ready as ever to face the onslaught. “I’m not asking for permission. I’m taking him home.”

“He needs a stable home,” his mother argues, a biting tone in her voice, as if she’s claiming that Eddie could never provide that for his own son. “He needs a mom and dad.”

The sentence hangs in the air like dead weight.

“You are not his mom and dad.” When Eddie speaks, his voice is calm. He’s almost amused by how spot on he was about how they would react. He’s done with letting them control him and with spending all his energy on them. He’s so tremendously done with the fighting and the pain and the self-hatred. “You are his grandparents, and Chris loves his grandparents. We’ll come back and visit and you can coo over your grandson to your heart’s content. But he’s coming home with me, mom.”

Previously quiet, his father pipes in, face cold and loveless. “You’re taking our grandson just to play house with… with a man. What kind of example is that setting for him?”

“The kind you never could,” Eddie replies honestly. “One of unconditional love.”

He’s sure his parents have more to say on the matter, more words that they wish could be as cutting as they intend them, but Eddie has finally, finally shut the metaphorical door on them. He’ll do his best—call on their birthdays, send a holiday card, give his son a relationship with his grandparents—but their words will never carve him out again like when he was a kid. And they will never get another shot at doing the same to Christopher.

This time, the man that walks out the front door with a suitcase in hand isn’t Edmundo Diaz, the character, the facade. It’s just Eddie, and he’s never going back.

*

“Um, hello?” Hen responds as she opens the door, eyeing Eddie’s disheveled state as he stands on her front porch. His truck is parked in the driveway, on less than a quarter tank of gas, engine still warm from the twelve hour drive. Chris is standing off to the side, out of her sight, utterly enthralled by the flowers she and Karen have planted in their front yard—it seems the kid’s interest in chess may have been replaced with horticulture.

“Hello,” Eddie responds, trying to peek behind her to see what’s going on inside the house. Is Karen home? The kids? Are they having a nice family dinner? He doesn’t want to crash her night, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Hen raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to explain why you ran out of Bobby and Athena’s party like there were ants in your pants? My wife has been distraught about it all day.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he replies distractedly, half-focused on making sure Christopher doesn’t fall into the flower bed. “I promise I will apologize to her. I just need your help right now.”

Her back straightens in interest. “Of course. What’s going on?”

“I’m gay,” Eddie says abruptly, ripping off the band-aid. It really does get easier every time he says it out loud. He’d already told Christopher in the car and they’d had a long and productive conversation about everything, so the kid doesn’t even flinch, too enamoured by the rose buds.

Hen, on the other hand, is utterly dumbfounded. “Huh?”

As much as his nerves are thrumming with anxiety over admitting to all of this, Eddie simply does not have time to dwell on it. “I’m gay, and I’m in love with Buck—”

“Oh my god.” Hen’s eyes have widened to the size of saucers, and she turns back to shout into the house, “Karen, it’s finally happening!”

Jeez, did everyone know he was in love with Buck before he did?

“Hen, please focus,” he interrupts, holding up a hand to stop her. She blinks back at him, confused. He sighs, tugging on Christopher’s arm to bring him into view.

Hen’s shocked smile grows even wider as she leans down to greet the kid. “Christopher Diaz, is that you? You’ve gotten so big!”

Chris smiles toothily and nods. “Is Denny home?”

“He is,” Hen responds, glancing up at Eddie. “Do you two want to come inside?”

Eddie clears his throat. “I’m sorry to crash your family night, but can you watch him for a few hours? I need to find Buck.”

“Of course we can!” she says enthusiastically, moving to the side to let the kid into the house. Chris immediately rushes off to find the other kids, following the sound of video game music to the living room. Hen watches him disappear down the hall before turning back to Eddie. “So…”

“So.”

“You’re in love with Buck?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know the answer to that,” Eddie responds, the slightest bit amused despite himself. He’s been really stupid about this whole thing, apparently—having a crisis about people finding out he’s gay when it seems like everyone already knew.

Hen shrugs, a wicked glint in her eyes. “You had your hand on his thigh under the table.”

A fierce blush rises to Eddie’s cheek as he remembers that day. Not only did he have his hand on Buck’s thigh, but he’d dragged him into a storage closet for a clandestine make-out at work. And he’d still somehow convinced himself he was straight. Wow.

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” Eddie protests weakly, well aware that he doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on.

“So you haven’t been secretly hooking up with Buck for weeks?”

“Define ‘hooking up.’”

Hen narrows her eyes at him. “Eddie Diaz, have you or have you not had your tongue in that man’s mouth?”

“I plead the fifth,” he mutters, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He can’t even count on one hand the number of times he’s had his tongue in Buck’s mouth. “Okay, fine. Maybe it was what you thought it was.”

“You two are perfect for each other,” she snorts, one hand over her mouth. Suddenly, as she watches him, Hen’s amused expression turns serious. And then she says five words that he’s never heard before. “I’m proud of you, Eddie.”

He shifts awkwardly, not sure how to respond. He’s out of his depth here. “Why?”

“For saying it out loud,” she explains. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“People do it all the time.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

He swallows. “No, it doesn’t.”

A moment of meaningful silence passes between them before she places an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get your man.”

Your man. He thinks he might like the sound of that.

“I’ll be back to pick Chris up as soon as I talk to Buck,” Eddie reassures her, glancing into the house. He can’t see Christopher, but he can hear the sound of his laughter ringing through the halls. He doesn’t want to leave the kid for even a second, especially not after only just getting him back, but he also doesn’t know how Buck will take what he has to say. If it goes badly, Chris doesn’t need to see that.

Hen waves him off. “Pick him up tomorrow morning. I’m sure he’s wanting to catch up with Denny and Mara.”

“Hen—”

“I can only imagine how much you missed Christopher,” she says, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly, “but I was also the one who saw how heartbroken Buck looked when you left that party. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but…”

“I really hurt him.” Eddie winces, that physical sting returning to his chest. “Shit.”

Of course he hurt Buck. He could see it on his face when the words were coming out of his mouth. It was like he was no longer in control, like something inside of him snapped when he felt like he had no other choice. That maybe if he finally severed this thing between them once and for all, they would both be able to walk out of that room with their heads still on, even if their hearts were in pieces.

Push, shove, bury. Get away.

And there it is—the trials and tribulations of Eddie Diaz, a tragedy of his own making. Nothing but his own brain convincing him he couldn’t have this, that he couldn’t even dream of it. When in reality, it was probable, even, that he and Buck would fall in love. That the universe meant for it to happen, and this whole time, Eddie has been fighting the goddamn universe with both hands tied behind his back.

He wishes it hadn’t taken him so long to accept it, but at least he has now. He’s ready. He’s finally the version of himself that he thinks can make Buck truly happy, not the one that pushes him away because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. If Buck wants Eddie, if Eddie makes him happy, then that is enough for him.

“You did hurt him,” Hen agrees, not unkindly but truthfully. It’s clear that she loves them both and hates to see them in pain like this. “You and Buck need to talk. Karen and I will make sure Christopher is okay, I promise.”

Eddie nods, handing her his son’s backpack. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”

Her lips twist into a teasing smile. “Invite me to your wedding.”

A disbelieving laugh escapes Eddie’s mouth. "Don’t you think that’s a little fast? I don’t even know if he feels the same way.”

She gives him an incredulous look. “If Buck doesn’t love you back, I’ll do your chores for a year.”

“Even latrine duty?”

“Even latrine duty.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Eddie responds, unable to keep the hopeful smile off his face. Maybe he’s about to do something really, really stupid and ruin the best friendship he’s ever had—or maybe he’s about to make the best decision of his life. He takes a deep breath and nods. “Alright, this is it. I’m really going to do this.”

Just as he’s about to leave, Hen catches his arm. “Oh, and Buck’s not at home.”

“He’s not?”

“He left with Chim and Maddie after the party,” she explains, wincing. Buck must have been even more upset than he initially thought. “He’s been crashing on their couch, but Chim texted me earlier saying he just went to the bar across from the station.”

“They let him go to the bar alone when he was upset?” Eddie asks with his brows furrowed.

Hen sighs. “You know how he is.”

Yeah, he does know. He knows Buck better than anyone. How the fastest way to make Buck feel better when he’s sad is to put a kid that he loves in front of him—Christopher and Jee-Yun being the most effective, of course. How when that isn’t enough, Buck doesn’t want to be a bother to anyone and isolates himself from the people who care about him. But he also knows that, deep down, Buck secretly wants someone to come after him and make him accept the help—and that’s a job that Eddie has never, and will never, shy away from.

“Thank you,” Eddie calls out again, already halfway down the stairs. “Don’t forget, I’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning!”

She waves him off. “Yeah, if you and Buck can manage to get out of bed!”

Eddie flips her the bird as he opens the door on the driver’s side. “Don’t be homophobic!”

“I’m literally a lesbian,” she shouts loud enough for him to hear.

The truck is filled with the sound of his own laughter as he kicks it into drive. His chest feels lighter than it has in… well, as long as he can remember. He’s finally ready to go all in with Buck. Christopher is finally back where he belongs. Eddie is finally starting to see the joy.

*

Eddie’s heart thumps along with the rhythm of the music as he slips between bodies on the dance floor. The bar is packed, the usual weekend crowd, a few familiar faces. This place is largely favoured by nearby first responders—as well as the women who know to find them here. The kind of women Chimney would affectionately call ‘hose chasers,’ and that Eddie notoriously avoids like the plague.

Well. Maybe Eddie should just avoid all women, at this point. For both of their sakes.

Eddie’s eyes skim the bar. He figures that, if Buck is still here, he’ll probably be nursing a drink and chatting with one of the bartenders. Buck has this warm energy that draws people towards him, and he can have a good time talking to basically anyone—it’s one of the things that Eddie admires most about him.

Except Buck isn’t sitting at the counter. He frowns, looking around the rest of the bar. Maybe Buck has already gone home? Maybe he got one of his migraines from the loud music or decided he’d rather be playing with his niece. Except Jee-Yun is probably long asleep, and he suspects Hen has already warned Chimney to text Eddie if Buck returns home.

Just as Eddie is starting to get nervous that something bad has happened, one of the bartenders comes up to him, an older woman with a tattoo peeking through her shirt collar. “Hey, can I get you something to drink?”

“No thanks,” Eddie declines. “But, uh… I’m actually here looking for someone.”

“Aren’t we all?” she snorts, wiping down the bar.

He pulls out his phone and shows her the picture on his lockscreen—a candid from a few years back taken in Eddie’s living room. Christopher is fast asleep on Buck’s shoulder, some random movie playing in the background, and Buck is looking at him with nothing but pure adoration on his face. Of course Eddie had to take a picture of it.

“Have you seen him tonight?” he asks desperately.

He half expects her to turn him down without even looking at the picture, but she eyes the phone curiously. “Yeah, I saw a guy who looked like him before. He was a bit more buff, though. With longer hair.”

Eddie breathes out a sigh of relief. At least Buck made it here in one piece. “That’s him. Is he still here?”

She nods her head towards the back of the room. “Last I saw him, he was holding a tray of shots and asking everyone at the bar for a quarter.”

Eddie bites back a laugh. Of course Buck was listening when Eddie drunkenly explained the rules of Quarters to him on one of their post-shift nights out. Well, if Buck wants a game, he’ll get a game. Eddie reaches into his pocket and produces a quarter from his wallet.

“Thank you,” he says to the bartender, who has moved on to drying some glasses. He thinks he can feel her curious eyes on the back of his head as he walks in the direction she pointed him in. Maybe she’s wondering who Buck is to him, the man saved as the photo on his lockscreen. Maybe she knows what everyone else knows about Eddie.

For the first time, the feeling settles in his chest like it belongs there. She can know that Eddie loves Buck, that Eddie is as gay as they come, and it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, it’s almost comforting—the world should know how Eddie feels about his best friend. Everyone should know. He’s proud of it.

His footsteps feel lighter as he walks towards the back of the bar, twirling the quarter between his fingers. He’ll humour Buck, play a couple rounds—but only after he tells him how he feels. They both need to be sober for that. His heart races nervously, but his soul feels settled. He knows that Buck loves him. He can feel it in his very being.

He spots Buck in a dimly lit booth, his curly hair falling into his eyes, a bright smile on his face. He has several empty shot glasses in front of him and a quarter sitting on the table. Eddie’s lips turn up at the corners—at least he’s having fun. He’s glad he didn’t fuck up so badly that Buck couldn’t be happy anymore. Now all he has to do is beg for forgiveness.

Eddie takes another step closer, and that’s when he finally notices the man sitting across from Buck—the one who made him smile like that. It takes a long few seconds for the face to register in his mind, because he simply cannot fathom how it could be him.

None other than Tommy Kinard.

Eddie’s stomach drops so fast he feels like he might vomit. What is Tommy doing here? Did Buck come here with him, or did they just happen to run into each other? Either way, it looks like Buck is very receptive to having him here. The same Buck that claimed he never liked Tommy, that said he was glad that they broke up when they did…

He watches as Buck laughs at something the pilot said before reaching for another shot and throwing it back. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he sways a bit, back and forth. Tommy reaches over the table to wipe the tequila off his chin, whispering something that gets lost in the music. His hands linger on Buck’s jaw like he has a goddamn right to touch him at all.

Tommy leans in closer. Buck doesn’t pull away.

Eddie watches, unable to move, as Tommy kisses him. Maybe realizing he was in love with Buck wasn’t the end of the world, but watching another man kiss him sure fucking feels like it. He feels like he can’t breathe. His eyes go blurry as he stands there, the quarter in his palm digging painfully into his skin, as the life he’d finally let himself want slips right through his fingers. As Buck slips through his fingers.

When he finally gets control of his feet, Eddie doesn’t stick around to watch it happen again. He takes a step backwards and, just his luck, accidentally collides with a waitress holding a tray of empty dishes. She manages to steady herself without dropping anything, and he apologizes absentmindedly, but when he looks back towards the booth, the commotion seems to have attracted some attention.

Buck meets his eyes, his mouth falling open in shock. He thinks he sees Buck mouthing his name—Eddie?—followed by Tommy turning in his seat to see what’s going on.

Eddie bolts.

He can’t hear his feet hitting the cold tiles as he runs out of the bar; all he can hear is decades-old pop music, the throbbing of his own heart, and the endless stream of thoughts racing through his mind. He was wrong, after all—Buck doesn’t love him back. He’d deluded himself into believing that just as much as he deluded himself into thinking that he didn’t love Buck all these years. No, Buck wants Tommy—that’s how it’s always been. If there was a competition, Eddie just lost the final round.

Or maybe Buck did love him back, once—maybe Eddie had finally succeeded in pushing him away. Maybe he was wrong for thinking that Buck would forgive him eventually. Maybe Buck finally realized that being loved by Eddie was painful and not worth the effort. Maybe he decided that loving Tommy was easier.

But being loved by Buck and letting that go? Probably the most foolish thing Eddie could have ever done.

*