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.

“Your car is at your house,” Buck points out, suddenly realizing the gaping hole in their plan. Eddie drove them both to the arena from his house, but they’d taken Buck’s car, which means Eddie is currently without a vehicle.

“Yeah.”

“Were you planning on walking home from here?”

“I was going to take an Uber,” Eddie admits with a shrug.

Buck shoves the keys back into his palm. “Just take the car. We can carpool to work tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“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.

*