Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eddie balances the phone against a coffee mug on his kitchen table, adjusting it until Buck’s face fills the screen. His hair’s a mess, sticking up like he’s been tugging at it all day, it's white from flour, he must have been baking earlier. Right now, there’s a red apron slung carelessly over his torso and he’s chopping vegetables with a practiced ease that makes something warm flicker in Eddie’s chest.

They do this almost every day now, FaceTime across two states, because when Eddie isn't driving he wants to be around Chris or Buck and  if Eddie’s honest, it’s the only part of his day that feels like he still has some semblance of control over his life.

“So....Chris brought up college today,” Eddie says, cutting the crusts off the sandwiches he’s making. His voice sounds too casual to his own ears. “Early admissions. He’s been looking into it.”

Buck’s knife pauses mid-chop. His whole face lights up in that way that makes Eddie feel weak, so wide, proud, and open. “Early admissions? Eddie, that’s huge! He’s just a sophomore!”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs under his breath, but it catches, heavy. “He’s got his sights set on Yale.”

Buck’s face falters, just for a second, before he schools it back into something encouraging. Eddie catches it anyway. 

“Yale’s… wow.” Buck whistles low. Then, softer, “Feels like it was just yesterday he was a tiny seven-year-old who needed me to help him with his homework”

Eddie chuckles, the memories vivid in his mind. Christopher grinning, missing a tooth, eyes fixed on his drawing as Buck instructed him what to do. It's just nostalgia, he tells himself.

“He’s growing up so fast,” Eddie says, the pride unmistakable, even through the tightness in his throat.

“Too fast,” Buck agrees, voice thick with it, the ache, the wonder, the stubborn, helpless love. “God, Eddie, I still remember when he couldn’t even reach the kitchen counter. And now he’s talking about Yale?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs. He presses the sandwich closed a little harder than necessary. “It's so far from Texas, LA too” 

Buck hums distractedly. Eddie glances up at the screen again, just in time to see Buck face all up in the screen, close enough that Eddie can count every line of skin going through his birthmark.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, amused despite himself. Buck looks sheepish, caught. 

“Googling the Accessibility Resources at Yale” he admits, and for a second Eddie forgets how to breathe. Something tugs painfully and sweetly at his heart. He swallows against it, focusing on pressing the sandwiches together.

"If he gets in?" Eddie offers instead, and Buck looks at him like he's grown another head, Eddie laughs awkwardly trying to bury the adulation gnawing at him from all angles. 

“Well, you're the planner,” Eddie says lightly, but he can’t keep the fondness from threading through his voice.

Buck’s answering smile is soft, private. The kind of smile that feels like it belongs only to Eddie.

Before he says anything reckless and stupid, potentially destroying 7 years of friendship they've built brick by brick Eddie decides to change the subject. 

"Whats new on your end?" He asks and Buck immediately launches into a narration of things that have happened in the past week. Eddie catches bits and pieces of it as he's toasting the sandwich on his saucepan. Bobby and Athena are going to do a housewarming party soon, Chimney's worried about Maddie's blood pressure and Hen is trying to get more days off to spend time with Karen and the kids.
 
“Oh, and Ravi’s probably switching back to B-shift soon,” Buck says, his tone shifting like he’s trying to make it sound casual. “Bobby mentioned something about a new recruit.”

The words slam into Eddie harder than they should. He forgets to take his hand off the pan and ends up burning himself. The pain registers a second later as he stares at his red fingers.

"Ah!" He exclaims like an afterthought and it alerts Buck. 

"Did you burn yourself?" Buck asks looking alarmed and concerned. Eddie ignores him as he wraps his hand in a paper towel, how will that help? he has no idea. New recruit? 

"New recruit?" He asks, and he can already tell Buck is going to deflect by the look on his face.

"You should really put something on-"

“New recruit?” he repeats sharply, the bitterness rising before he can stop it. They’re replacing him. Why wouldn’t they? It was stupid to think they’d wait around forever. He had just always thought that it would be Ravi who replaced him.

Buck must hear it too because his face softens immediately, apology written in every line.

“Yeah,” Buck says, slow and careful, “he’s transferring from the 132. It’s not—Bobby's not replacing you, Eddie.”

But he is, isn’t he? Eddie hears it anyway. And suddenly all the distance, the miles between them, the time they've spent apart, starts to feel like the crushing weight that it has been ever since he's moved. And he's tired. 

“You guys are quick,” Eddie mutters, the indignation sharp and hot in his throat. The pain in his hand barely registers as he tries to dull the ache in his heart.

“Eddie—” Buck starts, leaning forward, looking like he’s about to say something important, something Eddie’s sure would make him feel slightly better because anything Buck does is like a balm on his wounds but the sharp wail of a siren cuts through Buck’s end of the call.

Great.

"I'm sorry,” Eddie covers the sudden twist in his gut with a forced smile. “Go. I need to get this to Chris anyway.”

Buck hesitates, just for a second, just long enough that Eddie’s heart lurches, before he nods and ends the call.

The screen goes black.

Eddie stares at his own reflection for a long moment before sighing and gathering the sandwiches onto a tray. New recruit. He gets two sodas from the fridge and places them on the tray. New recruit. He places two acrylic glasses on the tray as well as he starts to move towards Chris's room where his son is chatting animatedly with his friend Mark, from school. New recruit. 

Eddie freezes at the doorway, tray in hand, the voices drifting from inside stopping him cold. They momentarily pause the panicky monologue going on in his head about the 118's potential new recruit.

“Oh, your stepdad doesn’t live with you?” Mark asks, gesturing to a framed photo of Buck and Christopher.

There’s a beat of silence—too long, too loaded. Eddie’s heart stutters, thudding hard against his ribs as he waits, breath held. God's really decided to test him today.

Then Christopher answers, casually, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “No… he lives in L.A.”

Well fuck.

Eddie swallows hard, forces his feet to move, and steps into the room like he didn’t just hear his son casually upend the entire architecture of his heart.

“Lunch’s here,” he says, keeping his voice light and casual as he sets the tray down on the coffee table. His hands are steady, they always are when it counts, but he can feel the tremor under his skin.

Chris goes stiff, barely flicking his eyes toward him, like he’s trying to figure out if Eddie heard.

Eddie pretends he doesn’t notice.

Chris mutters a soft, awkward “Thanks, Dad,” and Eddie just ruffles his hair in passing, like he always does, like nothing’s wrong.

Mark, bless him, either doesn’t pick up on the weirdness or decides to bulldoze right through it. He grabs a sandwich, leans back into the beanbag chair, and says, “You’re a firefighter, right, Mr. Diaz?”

Eddie nods, settling in. “Yeah. You could say i'm on a bit of a sabbatical right now”

Mark takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “That’s gotta be intense. Like… why would you even want to do that? Run into burning buildings and all that?”

There’s no judgment in it, just genuine curiosity, the kind only a teenager can make sound halfway like a challenge.

Eddie smiles a little, relaxed despite himself. “Yeah, it’s intense. But you get used to it. And it’s not really about the fire for me. I just like the idea of saving people."

Mark raises an eyebrow, interested now. “Why stay though? the adrenaline or the, like, hero thing?”

Eddie laughs under his breath. “Neither, honestly. It’s the team. Knowing someone’s always got your back, and you’ve got theirs. It’s… hard to explain, but once you have that kind of trust with people, you don’t walk away from it.”

Mark nods slowly, considering that, filing it away like it matters.

Chris still isn’t looking at him. He’s picking at the corner of his sandwich, shoulders tight.

Eddie catches it, all of it,but he keeps his face easy, steady, normal. Gives Chris a quick, subtle look that says, you’re okay. I’m not mad. I didn’t hear anything.

(He did. Of course he did. Every word burned itself into his chest.)

But Christopher needs him to pretend right now. So he does.

Mark launches into a story about a friend who tried to do a ride-along with the fire department and nearly fainted, and Eddie listens, smiles, makes the appropriate no way faces when he’s supposed to; lets the conversation carry them all somewhere safer for a little while.

Even if part of him is still back there at the doorway, heart stuttering out of rhythm, hearing Chris say he lives in L.A. 

***

It’s 3:07 a.m. when Eddie gives up pretending he’ll get any sleep tonight. He lies flat on his back, eyes wide open, ceiling blurring above him, mind still caught in a loop of "No… he lives in L.A"

He lives in L.A. As if Buck living a few miles away is some great distance. Like Buck isn’t already home.

He should’ve known. Hell, he did know. Maybe not in so many words, maybe not until he heard Chris say it out loud, sure and certain as breathing , but in every unguarded smile, in every time Buck stayed over, in every laugh that burst out of Chris like he’d been waiting for Buck to show up and make the world right again. Somewhere along the way, Chris had decided that Buck was the other parent.

And maybe…maybe Eddie had been pretending he didn’t already feel it. Pretending he didn’t look at Buck like he had strung up the stars in the sky just for him and Christopher to wish on. Pretending he didn’t feel like his whole world had started orbiting Buck without his permission, like Buck was the sun and Eddie was some lonely planet, helplessly caught in his gravity.

He isn't even freaked out by the thought of not being straight. He knew a long time ago that he had little to no interest in women. But he never thought he'd so easily warm up to the idea of being with a man... with Buck. His best-friend.

He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, but it doesn’t stop the way Buck’s face burns bright behind his lids, that wide, crooked smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way he says Eddie like it’s the most important word in the English language. Almost like it's the only one he knows.

And Buck’s so pretty, Eddie thinks, helpless. Not just in that obvious way, though Christ, Buck is obviously, ridiculously beautiful, a living, breathing kind of dazzling that Eddie’s never quite gotten used to. But it’s the kind of pretty that’s tucked in the gentleness of his hands, the way he kneels down to Christopher’s level without thinking, the way he shows up again and again, like loyalty is stitched into his very skin.

Eddie wants. God, he wants. Not just to be near him, not just to have him, but to stay in his light forever. To catch the heat Buck throws off and keep it burning inside his chest, where it’s already taken root, whether Eddie meant for it to or not.

The ceiling blurs again, and this time it’s not just exhaustion.

It’s terrifying, the depth of it. How completely Buck has woven himself into Eddie’s life, into Chris’s heart, into the spaces Eddie didn’t even realize were empty until Buck filled them without asking for anything in return.

He thinks about it, about Buck, about letting himself have what he’s already been living.

It should scare him. It should terrify him.

But all Eddie feels is a quiet sort of rightness, like the earth has tilted just a little closer to the sun, and he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

Maybe he’s been revolving around Buck for so long, that he’s forgotten what it’s like to spin on his own. And maybe he doesn’t want to remember. 

A loud ting from his phone startles him. He moves his hands around his bed to look for it and winces at the brightness once he turns it on to look for Buck's text. Because no one else would text him at this ungodly hour. And sure enough it's Buck. 

Buck [3:11 AM]:
can’t sleep

Eddie [3:12 AM]:
me neither

Buck [3:13 AM]:
what are you thinking about?

Eddie [3:13 AM]:
…stuff

Buck [3:14 AM]:
what stuff

Eddie [3:14 AM]:
just…stuff

Buck [3:15 AM]:
you’re so annoying

Eddie [3:15 AM]:
yeah well, it’s in the job description

Buck [3:16 AM]:
tell meeee pls u know i’ll kill myself if you don’t

Eddie snorts; an actual laugh bubbles out of him before he can stop it, loud in his too-empty room, echoing off the walls. He wishes Buck were here, sprawled across his bed or the floor or wherever Buck usually ends up when he stays over, like clockwork.

Eddie [3:18 AM]:
just thinking about something chris said to his friend earlier

Buck [3:19 AM]:
ohhh about college?

Before Eddie can even reply, his phone starts blowing up with links.

Buck [3:19 AM]:
[Link: Guide to Accessible Colleges 2025]

Buck [3:20 AM]:
[Link: Top Universities with Accessibility Services]

Buck [3:20 AM]:
[Link: Scholarships for Students with Disabilities]

Buck [3:20 AM]:
i forgot i saved all this a while ago just in case chris ever needed it so when i came back from the call I looked around for these 

Buck [3:21 AM]:
also found a forum for students w cp who shared their experiences
hold on sending that too

Eddie stares at the flurry of links filling his screen, heart clenching so hard it actually hurts.

Of course Buck had all of this ready. Only Buck would save links and tuck them into a folder to retrieve them when needed.

Of course Buck was already building a future for Christopher, like a parent would. God, he thinks, chest aching with it, I love you so much it hurts. And there it is, the worst thing he's ever heard. He's pathetically in love with his best-friend and it's going to ruin his life.

But all he types is:

Eddie [3:23 AM]:
you’re insane

Buck [3:23 AM]:
yeah but you love me anyway

Eddie smiles down at the screen, soft and stupid and so, so gone. They keep texting for a while about anything and everything before Eddie feels his eyelids get heavy with sleep. 

***

The morning sun barely peeks through the curtains when Eddie blinks awake, the room still tinted in that pale blue half-light that only exists just after night. For a moment, he’s disoriented, the edges of sleep clinging stubbornly to him and then he remembers. What Chris said, the new recruit, his...realisation. Which was less a realisation and more like accepting a well known truth.

Eddie rolls onto his side, groggy, muscles heavy with the kind of tired that no amount of sleep can fix. His hand fumbles blindly across the nightstand until he finds his phone. No missed calls. No new messages.

Still, without really thinking, he opens their thread.

His thumb hesitates for just a second before he types:

Eddie [6:32 AM]:
when does your shift start

He doesn’t even set the phone down, just stares at the screen, waiting.

A minute later, it buzzes.

Buck [6:33 AM]:
already started

The words are simple, casual, but they make Eddie frown all the same. It’s too easy to picture Buck rushing out the door, skipping breakfast, living on adrenaline and caffeine again.

He types quickly:

Eddie [6:34 AM]:
did you eat breakfast

There’s a longer pause this time. Then:

Buck [6:35 AM]:
nooo 

Eddie exhales, sinking back into the mattress, phone resting lightly on his chest. He doesn’t even know why he asked. Maybe because it’s easier to check if Buck ate than to say i miss you already.

Maybe because it’s second nature now, Buck’s wellbeing tied so tightly to Eddie’s own it feels like breathing.

He lays there for a moment, the room too big, too empty, Buck’s absence like a missing piece he doesn’t know how to stop reaching for.

Finally, he types:

Eddie [6:37 AM]:
don’t skip your meals, dumbass

A second later, Buck’s reply comes in:

Buck [6:38 AM]:
awww you love me

Eddie smiles down at the screen, his chest going stupidly, painfully warm.

Eddie [8:15 AM]

So? How was breakfast?

Buck [8:16 AM]
 It was great, Ramirez offered to cook and he made French toast for everyone.

Eddie [8:17 AM]
Right.

Ramirez? Who is that? Eddie wonders before moving on.

Eddie [8:18 AM]
Chris is asking if you still have the file for his history project on your computer.

[8:19 AM]
Buck: I think I do, I’ll have to check.

[10:25 AM]
Buck: Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?

[10:30 AM]
Eddie: nope! did you guys have a call to the aquarium? 

[10:36 AM]
Buck: Yesh
Buck: Ramirez told me!

[10:40AM]
Eddie: Right

Ramirez?

the next day

[8:25 AM]
Eddie: Also, I need you to teach me how to fix a lawn mower. It’s been acting up again.

[8:26 AM]
Buck: Yeah, I’ll send you a video once I get home. But, you know, if you wanted to try fixing it, you could do it guidance-less 

[8:27 AM]
Eddie: Buck, we both know I’m not doing that

[8:30 AM]
Buck: Oh, by the way, I saw Marisol yesterday, she took one look at me and turned the other way.

[8:31 AM]
Eddie: that's...unsurprising

[8:32 AM]
Buck: women flew me regularly :(

[8:33 AM]
Eddie: again, unsurprising

[8:35 AM]
Buck: thats mean 😢 
Buck: about Chris’ project… I found the file!

[8:36 AM]
Eddie: Perfect, I’ll tell him. You’re a lifesaver.

[8:37 AM]
Buck: I know.

***

Eddie checks his phone again, just like he does every single day. Every time he picks it up, it’s like a wave of shame crashes over him, curling deep in his chest. God, you’re thirty-four years old, he thinks. You’re not a teenager anymore.

But the thing is, he wants to check it. He can’t help it. He’s been doing it for weeks now. Every time he hears that special ringtone, the one he set for Buck’s messages, because it would be ridiculous to let anything else break through the way Buck’s name does. 

Christopher hasn't said anything. Eddie's been waiting for his son to come to him when he’s ready, because he knows how hard it can be to open up, to put into words the things that feel too big to say out loud. And he’d made a promise to himself, years ago, that he would never push Chris into a corner. He would never demand answers the way his parents had, never make his son feel like every fleeting thought had to be shared or dissected just to keep the peace.

He won’t suffocate him like that. He can’t.

Chris needs to know that he can hold onto his feelings, his confusion, without having to carry the burden of constant scrutiny from his dad.

And Eddie can do that. He can be patient, he can wait. 

As he’s halfway through nailing up the shelf that collapsed a few days ago, when he hears that ringtone. His stomach drops and he nearly drops the drill with it. The way he fumbles to catch it, the damn thing almost impaling him in the process. He’s thankful Chris isn’t here to witness it. Because he would have earned an earful. He's almost as bad as Buck when it comes to scolding Eddie over his clumsiness. 

He feels a second of panic, the stupid rush of adrenaline that follows a moment like this, his hands shaking a little as he snatches the phone up. 

Eddie runs to the bathroom mirror, he notices his hair is a little wild from the work, and theres a smudge of grease on his shoulder. He runs a hand through his hair, straightens his collar on his shirt, but then stops. Why are you trying to look good for him? It's just Buck.

The thought slams into him like a freight train, leaving him frozen in the middle of the bathroom.

It’s insane. So he abandons it, the collar, the hair, the little performance and instead plops into the nearest chair, staring at the phone in his hands, trying to breathe.

The phone buzzes. Eddie doesn’t even wait, answering almost immediately. “Hey!”

Buck’s face lights up the screen, and it feels like a jolt of warmth rushes through Eddie’s chest. Buck’s wearing his usual LAFD long-sleeve shirt, his hair damp from a shower, a faint hint of exhaustion in his eyes that Eddie knows well from the days they’ve spent together. He looks like home in a way Eddie isn’t sure how to explain.

“Hey!” Buck complains, his voice always bright and full of that familiar energy. “We just got back from a sewer call.”

“How did Ravi manage to get you into a sewer?” Eddie asks through a chuckle. Buck’s face scrunches up in hesitation. 

“Didn’t I tell you about Ravi moving to B Shift?” He sighs dramatically, then says absentmindedly, “And Ramirez outranks me, so?” 

Ramirez. Eddie’s not sure why, but the name grates on him in a way he can’t quite explain. 

Ramirez.

"Ramirez?" Eddie asks, trying his best to sound casual, to bury the grating heaviness that starts in Eddie’s chest, just a dull throb at first, but it grows stronger as Buck continues, going on about Ramirez in a way that makes Eddie’s pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons.

“The transfer! You should have seen him, Eddie,” Buck raves, his face lighting up as he talks about the other firefighter.

“Ramirez is—he’s incredible. This guy practically lifted a car to pull some man out from underneath it. Just—poof, no problem. And he’s got this way with people, you know? We were on a call yesterday, and there was this kid, maybe ten, just bawling her eyes out, freaking out because her mom was hurt, and Ramirez just knelt down, right there on the pavement, and started talking to her. Calmed her down in like, two minutes. It’s like he just… gets people.”

Eddie’s stomach lurches, his hand tightening around the phone. He can’t help it. The green-eyed monster slithers into his chest, thick and heavy.

Eddie’s quiet for a second too long. He feels his jaw tighten, and there’s a slight edge to his voice when he finally speaks, even though he tries to keep it light.

“Yeah? Sounds like he’s… perfect for the job.” Eddie’s trying to be casual. Trying.

Buck doesn’t seem to notice the shift in tone. He’s too caught up in his own excitement, talking about how great Ramirez is, how they work so well together. Eddie smiles, but it’s tight, forced. He feels the knot in his chest tightening with every word Buck says.

“Yeah, you know, he’s definitely good at what he does,” Buck says with a grin. “And he might outrank me but I'm still going to try to haze him” he adds quickly, and Eddie can see it, Buck's ridiculous posturing, the way he tries to use his stature to intimidate people when on the inside he's like a tiny puppy. Eddie’s stomach churns again, this time with something deeper, something that feels a little too much like longing.He buries it. He swallows hard, but his voice is steady as he says, “I’m sure you will.”

Apparently Ramirez is everything Eddie is not. He’s strong, good with people, and he’s got this effortless way of making everyone around him feel safe. Eddie’s not one to judge people before meeting them but he just doesn't understand what it is about this guy that’s getting under his skin. He feels annoyed.

He shakes his head, almost to himself. Ramirez is just a guy, he tells himself. He’s just a guy doing his job, with Buck. He's with Buck. and I'm not.

***

The 118 arrive on the scene of a medical emergency, some guy called 9-1-1 claiming that he had ingested industrial glue. Hen and Chimney are knee-deep in their work, checking vitals and assessing the situation with the patient who has somehow ingested industrial glue. The man, in his mid-forties, groans softly on the gurney, an oxygen mask strapped to his face. Bobby stands nearby, giving orders, his voice steady and professional.

“Hen, Chim, keep monitoring his oxygen levels. We don’t know how much he ingested, but we need to be ready to act fast if his airway starts to close. Chimney, prep the IV for fluids, let’s get him hydrated and moving.”

Buck and Ramirez stand off to the side, theres really not much they need to do during medical calls, so they're out of the way but close enough to hear the low hum of the medical equipment and the murmurs of their colleagues. Ramirez, ever the talker, leans over slightly to Buck.

“So, Buck,” he says, his tone casual but curious, “Do you play any sports? You strike me as the athletic type.”

Buck blinks, taken aback by the sudden question, but after a moment, he shakes his head with a light chuckle.

“Me? Nah, not really,” Buck says, but before he can elaborate, he feels that familiar spark of energy, the kind he always gets when he thinks about Eddie. "Eddie was the real athlete around here.”

Ramirez raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Eddie?”

Buck’s face lights up, and he starts rambling without realizing it. “Yeah, Eddie’s my best friend and he used to work here before you joined, he moved, long story but he's like, super competitive. He used to play basketball all the time when he was free, and he gets this, like, intense need to shoot hoops every once in a while.” Buck’s smile softens, the thought of Eddie’s enthusiasm pulling him in. 

“He’s really good, you know? He’s got that whole laid-back but focused thing going on, and it’s impressive how much he gets into it. Like, every time we were off-shift and hanging out, he’s always trying to get me to play with him.”

“Ah, so Eddie’s trying to get you to play? You’re the one holding out, huh?” Ramirez smirks, clearly amused by Buck’s rambling. 

Buck freezes for a split second, realizing what he’s said. His smile falters, and he quickly tries to downplay it. “Well, yeah, kinda. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to, I just—uh, I’m not really good at it, you know?”

Ramirez’s eyes twinkle with humor. He leans in a little, raising an eyebrow. “Hmm. So, then Eddie’s just really into you, huh?”

Buck’s face flushes instantly, and he feels the heat rise in his cheeks. His mouth goes dry, and for a moment, he forgets how to speak. He tries to keep it cool, but there’s no hiding the way his face turns red.

“What? No—uh, I mean—” Buck stammers, shaking his head quickly. “Eddie? No way, dude. He’s… he’s straight. Definitely straight,” Buck mutters, almost to himself, but his voice thickens with uncertainty. “I mean, he’s, like, way out of my league, you know?”

Ramirez looks at him, his eyes dancing with mischievousness. The corners of Ramirez’s mouth twitch upward, and Buck feels a mix of embarrassment and something else he can’t define.

“You sure about that?” Ramirez asks, his voice light but teasing. “Because it kind of sounds like you’re a little into him, man. You’re rambling, like, really passionately about him. Are you sure you two aren’t, you know… something more than just friends?”

Buck freezes, his brain stuttering for a response. His heart is thudding in his chest, and he feels like he might actually pass out from the intensity of the moment. He fumbles for words, but none of them come out right.

“No, no… I—uh, it’s just… I mean, Eddie’s awesome. He’s, like, the best guy I know. But, uh…Damn, is it that obvious?” He trails off, his voice dropping, because he tries so hard, he really does, to hide the fact that he's hopelessly pining for his bestfriend. 

"To anyone with ears" Ramirez says with a smirk and Buck groans at his own inability to ever hide anything he has ever felt. It's a miracle that Eddie isn't already aware of the fact that Buck is hopelessly pining over him. 

“Yeah, no, I just… I mean, He’s this, like, perfect guy, and he’s got this whole perfect dad thing going for him, you know? And me? I’m just me.”

Ramirez raises both eyebrows now, the teasing glint in his eyes still there but softened by something almost thoughtful. “You’re a good guy too, Buck. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“You really think so?” Buck blinks at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in Ramirez’s voice. 

“Yeah, man. I do.” Ramirez shrugs, looking back over at the patient, but his voice has taken on a warmer tone. “You’re a solid guy. You’ve got your own thing going. If Eddie doesn’t see that… well, he’s blind.”

Buck feels a strange lump in his throat, the tension from earlier beginning to shift into something more profound. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. The force of Ramirez’s words sits heavy on him, and the thought that he could be seen the way he sees Eddie, that he might actually be worthy of that kind of attention, is both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

“Thanks, Ramirez” Buck mutters, his voice quieter now, but a little more steady.

"Issac" Ramir-Issac corrects and Buck nods, warmed by the idea of being closer to his new teammate. They stand there for a moment, and Buck glances at the patient, trying to shake off the lingering feelings that swirl inside him.

***

Eddie stares at his phone screen, his thumb hovering over the “accept” button, feeling the familiar flutter in his chest as he taps it. It’s Buck. Of course, it’s only Buck. It’s always Buck. He smiles when he sees Buck’s face appear on the screen, that mischievous grin tugging at his lips, even though it’s a little tired. Eddie always feels a bit lighter when he sees Buck, like all the noise of the world is momentarily silenced.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck practically sings his name, his voice warm and easy, like no time has passed since the last time they talked, even if it’s only been a few days.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie replies, leaning back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, but still watching Buck like he’s something worth memorizing. He doesn’t mean to stare, but he can’t help it. Buck is all he ever wants to look at. 

“How’s everything at the station?”

“Oh, you know,” Buck says with a dramatic sigh, “Same old, same old. Just another day in paradise.” His eyes twinkle, teasing Eddie like he always does, making Eddie’s heart skip just a little.

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, no disgusting calls?" 

They talk for a long, about the usual stuff: work, their latest calls, how the team is handling the workload. Buck mentions that Maddie is on bed rest now, the doctor suspects preeclampsia. And that Bobby and Athena's house is finally done. 

But Eddie’s mind starts to wander, caught in the quiet of his apartment. He doesn’t realize how much time passes until there’s a soft noise from Buck’s end. Then, suddenly, the view shifts as someone walks into frame.

It’s Ramirez. Eddie resists the urge to roll his eyes.

The guy swings his arm around Buck’s shoulders like it’s no big deal. Like it’s something they’ve done a hundred times before. 

Eddie’s heart sinks, and he feels the familiar knot twist in his chest. 

"Well well what do we have here?" Ramirez drags out his words, looking between Buck and Eddie on screen. "You must be Eddie" 

"The only" Eddie says dryly.

He watches as Ramirez leans in a little too close to Buck, whispering something in his ear. Eddie’s eyes narrow involuntarily, a flash of irritation snaking its way through him before he can even stop it. He would have cared less if Buck hadn't blushed that pretty pink he usually does when Eddie compliments him.

What the hell is that? Why is Buck blushing because of this guy?

Buck, oblivious or maybe just used to it, laughs softly, but Eddie feels this sharp, inexplicable pang of jealousy. He doesn’t want to feel it, he doesn’t want to care. But he does. He feels this deep ache in his chest, like something is being taken from him, like he’s been replaced, and he can’t deny it. Every inch of him is screaming, but he forces himself to smile, just for Buck, even through clenched teeth.

“So… you two getting along fine, huh?” Eddie forces the words out, his voice coming out a little tighter than he meant. It’s not like him to sound this way, to sound… green, to feel like he’s losing ground he never even had.

Eddie has to watch as Ramirez gives Buck a playful shove, the kind that sends another surge of vexation straight through Eddie’s veins. The casualness of it, the ease with which they touch, it cuts deeper than Eddie wants to admit.

“Yeah,” Buck says, shrugging, his smile still in place, but there’s a small flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Issac and I are kind of getting the hang of things? Right?”

Issac? 

"Oh we are doing great! Don't you worry Eddie" Ramirez exclaims.  Eddie forces a smile. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Ramirez leans in again, his voice lowered to a whisper. Eddie can’t hear the words, but he doesn’t need to. It doesn’t matter what he says. It’s the intimacy in the way they share the space, the closeness, that stings. He hates it. It’s the way Buck doesn’t seem bothered by it, the way Buck seems… comfortable. Comfortable with someone else.

Eddie wants to look away. He wants to close his eyes, to pretend it’s not happening, but he can’t. He can’t stop staring at the screen, watching Ramirez’s hand still resting on Buck’s shoulder like it belongs there. Eddie’s stomach churns. It doesn’t.

Eddie’s mouth feels dry. He tries to swallow, but it doesn’t help. It’s like a pounding in his head, pressing down harder with every second he watches Ramirez talk to Buck, touch him, make him laugh like Eddie used to. When he finally leaves Eddie doesn't feel the relief of his absence instead he just feels irate.

He forces his gaze to shift back to Buck’s face, trying to keep his voice even. “You guys seem… pretty close.”

Buck laughs, brushing it off, but Eddie notices the way his eyes flicker with something unreadable for just a second. “Yeah, we’re just getting to know each other,” Buck says, his tone light but slightly hesitant. He doesn’t say anything more, and Eddie knows it’s because Buck can sense something’s off. He can feel it too.

"Issac?" Eddie asks raising his eyebrows, "You call him Issac"

"That's his name" Buck says in a matter of fact tone. 

"Yeah" Eddie replies sourly and Buck is looking at him with his worried puppy dog eyes, like Eddie's stepped on his tail and Eddie knows this is his fault. He knows he’s the one who pulled away, the one who distanced himself, the one who left—even if it wasn’t really a choice.

There’s a quiet moment that stretches between them, a fragile silence, before Eddie finally breaks it, the words feeling too heavy to say, but coming out anyway.

“I should let you go,” he says, his voice thick. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

“Yeah, alright,” Buck replies, his voice soft but warm, his gaze unwavering as he stares back at Eddie. But the look in his eyes makes Eddie want to sink into the floor. The worry, the confusion like Buck’s catching onto something. He knows Eddie’s holding back, knows that something’s off.

But Eddie can’t explain it. Not now. Not when it hurts so much to admit that he's ruined everything.

As Buck says his goodbyes, Eddie’s eyes stay glued to the screen for a moment longer. He tries to pretend he’s fine, tries to pretend the tightness in his chest isn’t there, but he’s lying to himself. He feels the bridge between them, the distance he’s put in place and now regrets. He wants to reach out, wants to pull Buck back into his orbit, but he’s afraid it’s too late.

***

A few hours later Buck picks up his phone and dials Eddie's facetime, wanting to see Eddie’s familiar face on the screen. When it connects, Eddie’s face is there, but his expression is unreadable, his eyes focused somewhere just off-screen. The silence stretches on longer than it should, and Buck shifts on the bed, trying to gauge what’s going on.

“Eddie?” Buck asks, raising an eyebrow. His voice is light, but there’s a hint of concern creeping into it. “You good?”

Eddie just stares at him through the screen, his brow furrowed slightly, lips pressed into a thin line. He doesn’t respond, not immediately, but he nods and says he's fine.

“Hey, so… we had this crazy call today,” Buck continues, trying to fill the void, shifting in his spot as he leans forward. “It was at this warehouse—two guys had, uh, accidentally strapped themselves into this box strapping machine, like—just… trapped. They were both stuck, and it’s, like, this huge machine that’s meant to wrap boxes. But somehow, they ended up on opposite sides of it. And Ramirez—” Buck gestures with his hands, suddenly animated, his excitement coming through in the way his eyes widen. “Ramirez broke the straps with his bare hands! It was so cool, Eddie. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone just, like, rip through industrial-grade straps like that.”

Buck babbles on, his voice rising with enthusiasm, trying to pull Eddie back into the conversation. But Eddie just… watches him. His face is still hard to read, lips pressed together in a way that makes it clear he’s not fully engaging. Buck’s words stumble to a halt, his smile faltering as he watches Eddie’s distant gaze.

“Eddie?” Buck asks again, a little softer this time, his eyes searching for something. Anything that gives him a clue as to what’s going on. “You okay?”

Eddie’s eyes flicker to the camera, meeting Buck’s gaze for the first time in what feels like forever. His expression softens, but it’s still hard, almost guarded. Finally, after a long pause, Eddie exhales slowly, like he’s been holding something back.

“Buck,” Eddie says, his voice low, his tone almost gentle but distant. “I’ll call you later.”

Buck freezes, his brows knitting together in confusion. The sudden, sharp finality in Eddie’s words stings, and a knot tightens in Buck’s stomach. Eddie doesn’t look angry, he doesn’t look like he’s upset with Buck but the rift between them, even through the phone screen, is undeniable.

“Eddie…” Buck starts, his voice trailing off, searching for the right words, but Eddie cuts him off with a soft sigh, his face softening just a little.

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

Buck’s lips part as if he’s about to say something more, but he doesn’t, not this time. He just nods, trying to hide the disappointment from his face, even though it’s there, so raw it almost hurts. He forces a smile, though it feels a little too strained.

“Okay… talk to you later,” Buck says quietly, his heart heavy in his chest.

Eddie doesn’t respond right away. He simply looks at Buck for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, almost as if it’s the only thing left to do, Eddie disconnects the call, leaving Buck staring at the empty screen.

***

Eddie sits at the kitchen table, his breakfast untouched, a few crumbs scattered across his plate. His fork rests beside the half-eaten eggs, his gaze drifting out the window but never really landing on anything. The morning light filters through the blinds, but it doesn’t bring him the usual comfort. It feels cold, distant, like the space between him and everything he’s been avoiding. His mind is elsewhere, caught in a whirlpool of thoughts about Buck, about the distance he’s put between them, and the fear that maybe he’s ruined everything.

Chris is sitting across from him, his crutches leaning against the side of his chair. He’s eating with the kind of quiet focus that comes naturally to him, but there’s something about the way Eddie’s been so silent that catches his attention. He glances up, watching his dad in the same way he’s always done—softly, thoughtfully, trying to understand what’s going on inside Eddie’s head, the way Eddie tends to do for him.

“Are you okay?” Chris asks, his voice gentle but direct. It’s the kind of question that cuts through the fog Eddie’s been lost in.

Eddie blinks, surprised. “What?” The question throws him off guard, and for a moment, he almost doesn’t know how to answer. He didn’t think Chris could read him that well.

Chris just looks at him, eyes narrowed slightly, concern written on his face. Eddie opens his mouth to deflect, to wave it away with a joke or a change of subject, but something in his chest tightens.

“I’m fine,” Eddie mutters, almost automatically. But the words feel hollow, too soft. Not enough.

Chris doesn’t buy it. “No, you’re not. You haven’t been for a while.”

Eddie’s heart sinks, his chest tightening with a mixture of guilt and frustration. He knew Chris had been noticing, but hearing it out loud makes the weight of it all feel heavier. The silence stretches between them, thick and unspoken, until Eddie finally, reluctantly, admits, “No, I haven’t.” His shoulders sag, his hands absently moving the food around on his plate without any real interest.

Chris doesn’t press further, but there’s an understanding in his eyes. He takes a slow breath before speaking again, like he’s testing the waters, deciding how much he’s ready to share.

“I know you miss him,” Chris says quietly. “I do too.”

The words hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. He looks at his son, blinking quickly, unsure if the lump in his throat is from the raw honesty in Chris’s voice or the sudden rush of emotion it stirs in him. He swallows hard, his eyes watering unexpectedly. “Yeah?” he manages, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chris nods, his gaze steady, as if this is just something he’s known for a while. “It’s okay, Dad. You’re going to be okay.”

The words seem so simple, but they feel like a lifeline. Eddie holds onto them, letting them sink in. There’s a weight lifted off his chest, an unspoken permission in Chris’s tone. Eddie understands what’s left unsaid. Chris isn’t just telling him that things will be alright; he’s giving him permission. Permission to try again, to stop holding back, to not be afraid of what he wants.

There’s a beat of silence, a moment where Eddie lets the words settle around him, and then Chris speaks again, his voice quieter but even more certain.

“I meant it,” Chris says, his voice unwavering. “A few weeks ago, what I said to Mark… I do think of Buck like he’s my dad.”

Eddie’s heart races in his chest, and before he can stop it, a tear slips down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly, but it doesn’t matter. His son has just given him more than he ever expected. Chris is giving him permission to pursue the one thing he’s been afraid to admit — that maybe, just maybe, Buck could be more than a friend. He could be everything.

“I put him in my will” Eddie reveals, his voice thick, the weight of Chris’s words wrapping around him like a warm blanket, “If I die you go to him.”

Christopher stares at him for a while, before he nods, his eyes soft but knowing. “It’s okay, Dad. You don’t have to be afraid of it.”

Eddie’s chest tightens again, but this time, it’s different. This time, it’s not a heaviness he’s carrying alone. Chris has made sure of that. Eddie breathes in slowly, nodding, feeling the tears welling up again, but he doesn’t try to stop them.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Eddie feels like he’s not alone. He doesn’t have to hide what he feels. And maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late to fix things with Buck.

Eddie reaches across the table, brushing his fingers lightly against Chris’s hand. “Thanks,” he says softly, voice full of gratitude. Chris just smiles at him, a little shy but still so grown-up in his understanding.

“You’re welcome, Dad.”

***
 And so begin the worst two weeks of Eddie's life.

Day 1:

10:15 AM
Eddie:
Just finished fixing the shelf in the kitchen, finally got it nailed in properly this time. No more glue, promise. You’d be proud of me. 😅

10:42 AM
Eddie:
By the way, the drill is still terrifying, but I’m getting the hang of it. 

Day 2:

9:08 AM
Eddie:
Hey, you said I should check out the faucet leak, but turns out it wasn’t the faucet after all. The sink’s fine. 
It was just the drainpipe being a pain. Guess I’m learning more than I thought about plumbing. 😂

Day 3:

12:30 PM
Eddie:
Why aren't you replying??? 

Chris got home from school and showed me the project he did for science. He said his teacher was impressed. Apparently, he used some big words, and I had to Google a few of them. I swear, he’s getting smarter than me. 😅

Day 4:

9:45 AM
Eddie:

no reply on my FaceTime? 

I had to get a new set of tires for the car today. Went to the shop, and Chris decided he was the mechanic for the day, telling me all the things the guy was doing. He’s got all these little facts he’s picked up from who knows where, and honestly, it’s kind of impressive.

9:47 AM
Eddie:
Anyway, everything’s good. Just been fixing a few things around here. Everything’s fine. Miss you.

Day 5:

8:23 PM
Eddie:
I’m making your favorite tonight—chicken parmesan. You think Chris will finally eat it this time, or is that too much of a risk? 🤔

8:45 PM
Eddie:
It’s okay if you don’t reply tonight. I'm just wondering whats wrong. Let me know how things are when you can. 

Day 6:

10:12 AM
Eddie:
Chris was asking about you again this morning. He said he misses you. You should call him.

Day 7:

11:30 AM
Eddie:
I’m almost done with the backyard. Just need to pick up a few more things, but it’s looking pretty decent now. Not the jungle it used to be, at least. 😅

12:00 PM
Eddie:
I talked to Hen. She says you're fine. I'm glad but I need to hear it from you. 

As Eddie watches his phone, waiting for a response that never comes, his fingers tap restlessly against the side of the table. 

Day 8:

5:03 PM
Eddie:
I swear, I must’ve missed something. Chris had an essay due, and he didn’t even tell me until after school. He’s getting too sneaky now. I just… I don’t know where the time goes with him. Feels like I’m missing out on all the small moments, you know?

Day 10:

2:21 PM
Eddie:
You don't answer my texts or my calls. 

Saw a cat today, bit clingy and whiny. 

Day 12:

3:15 PM
Eddie:
I’m getting worried. Haven’t heard from you in a bit. Is everything okay? Just let me know when you can.

Day 14:

1:48 PM
Eddie:
Okay, seriously. I know you’re busy, but this is a bit ridiculous now. I haven’t heard from you in two weeks. You didn’t even reply to the chicken parmesan thing. You good?

Day 14:

3:30 PM
Eddie:
I’m starting to get really concerned. Just—please—when you can, send me a message. I don’t know what’s going on, but I just want to know you’re okay.

3:35 PM
Eddie:
I’m not going to bother you again about it, I'm sorry okay? Buck? 

Where is he? Why hasn’t he replied? It’s been days, then a week… now two. Eddie can’t shake the anxiety gnawing at him. Had he done something? Said something? Why wasn’t Buck reaching out?

His stomach tightens with every passing minute. He drops his head into his hands for a moment, rubbing his eyes, then picks up his phone again, staring at the screen, praying for some kind of sign from Buck. 

But all he sees is the same empty space where Buck’s responses should be. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence of the room, matching the sudden, hollow ache that feels like it’s spreading through his chest.

***

Eddie’s sleep is shallow, interrupted by the deep, disorienting pull of a dream he can’t quite remember. His phone rings, the harsh sound cutting through the quiet night like a jolt of electricity. He blinks awake, heart racing. The clock on the wall reads 2:00 AM. For a moment, he’s frozen, still tangled in the weight of sleep, but then he hears the phone ring again, and his body moves on instinct.

His hands are unsteady as he scrambles to grab it, swiping at the screen as if it’s slipping through his fingers. When he sees the caller ID, his breath catches in his throat—it’s Buck.

Eddie doesn’t even think. He answers immediately, his voice low and sharp, the concern boiling over the second he hears the ring stop.

“Where the hell have you been? Are you insane? How could you—”

The words freeze in his throat.

Buck’s breath is ragged on the other end, like he’s just been running, but there’s something else—something Eddie hasn’t heard before. There’s a sniff, then another, followed by the shaky, broken sound of a sob.

Eddie’s heart sinks. Every muscle in his body tenses, a cold chill settling over him.

“Buck?” he says, his voice cracking with the worry that’s already starting to swell in his chest. “What’s wrong?” He asks his voice much softer now. 

Buck tries to speak, but it’s all jumbled, incoherent sobs and choked gasps. Eddie’s hands are shaking now, gripping the phone tighter, his mind racing.

“Buck…Please, talk to me,” Eddie urges, panic rising in his throat.

“I—Ch-Chimney—” Buck manages, his voice thick and broken, “Chimney got infected during a call… with a virus… He—he went down hard, Eddie, and it made Maddie’s condition get worse.”

Eddie’s stomach drops, his breath catching in his chest. His mind spins with the horrible images Buck’s words paint. His pulse quickens.

"Buck, are Chimney and Maddie okay?" He asks slowly and calmly, trying not to agitate Buck even more than he already was.

“They had to emergency deliver the baby, Eddie,” Buck continues, his voice shuddering with every word. “Maddie and Chimney are both in the hospital now. And… and I’m here with the baby… Eddie, I don’t—”

The words falter, and Buck starts crying harder. Eddie’s heart cracks at the sound of it, this fragile, broken thing that he can’t ignore, can’t fix with just words.

“Buck, it’s gonna be okay.” Eddie says, his voice trembling now, trying to be the calm he knows Buck needs. But it feels too small, too distant against the raw pain in Buck’s voice.

“I—” Buck’s voice breaks again, and Eddie’s chest tightens. “I asked Hen… I asked her to lie to you. I couldn’t—I didn’t know what to say, Eddie. I didn’t want you to worry, I just… I thought I could handle it, but I couldn’t… I can’t…”

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat, a wave of guilt and sadness crashing over him. He knows Buck so well, knows how hard he works to keep everything together, to shield everyone else from the chaos of his emotions.

But right now, it’s all falling apart.

“I miss you,” Buck says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I miss you so much, Eddie. I wish… I wish you were here with me.”

There are tears stinging his eyes now, but he’s trying so hard to hold it together. He’s trying to focus, to be the strong one for Buck.

“I’m here, Buck. I’m here,” Eddie says, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m here now, alright? Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Buck’s crying softens into quiet sniffles, but Eddie can still hear the pain in his voice. “I just… I just don’t want to be alone, Eddie. I don’t know what to do… with all of this.”

Eddie’s mind races, trying to make sense of it all. Maddie, Chimney, the baby… Buck left to carry it all. It’s too much for him to carry alone.

“I know, Buck,” Eddie says, his voice firm now, steady with the resolve that has always carried him in moments like this. “You’re not alone. I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

There’s a pause, a moment of fragile silence on the other end, and then Buck speaks again, quieter, but with the faintest hint of relief in his voice.

“I'm sorry I didn't reply” he whispers.

Eddie presses his eyes shut for a moment, letting the warmth of those words settle in his chest.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Buck,” Eddie says softly, his heart still racing. “You have to know, I'm here for you. Always.”

"Yeah, I know"

***

Buck barely registers the first buzz of the doorbell. He’s sitting on the floor next to the crib, legs stretched out in front of him, head lolling against the side of the wall. His whole body feels heavy with exhaustion, the kind that seeps into your bones. His eyes are bloodshot, ringed with dark, bruised shadows. His hair is sticking out wildly, flattened awkwardly on one side where he must’ve dozed off for a few minutes. The shirt he’s wearing is wrinkled, stained with formula and who knows what else, hanging loosely off his tired frame.

The doorbell rings again. Louder this time. More insistent.

Buck stirs, groggy, dragging himself up with a low groan. His muscles ache like he’s run a marathon, and it takes him a moment to shuffle toward the door. He rubs at his face half-heartedly, like that will erase the exhaustion written all over him.

When he pulls the door open, squinting against the morning light, he freezes.

Eddie’s standing there, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, a travel-worn weariness in his face—but his eyes are steady, warm. Solid.

Buck blinks at him, completely stunned. His voice cracks when he says, “What are you doing here?”

Eddie shrugs, casual, like it’s nothing, like it didn’t cost him everything to be standing here. “You said you didn’t want to be alone.”

Buck’s mouth parts, but no words come out. His brain feels too slow, too overwhelmed to keep up.

Eddie shifts his weight, glancing past Buck into the quiet apartment before looking back at him. “When the call ended… I woke Chris up.” He huffs out a breath that’s half a laugh, half an apology. “He was not happy about it.”

Buck just stares, wide-eyed. Eddie keeps going, voice low and rough from the long drive and sleepless night. “I dropped him off at my parents’. Told him you needed me.”

Buck finally finds his voice, hoarse with disbelief. “What? Eddie, that’s—"

"It's such a long drive" Buck says still gawking from the doorway. 

Eddie gives a little shrug again, his mouth tugging into a tired, crooked smile. “It’s not that bad.”

Buck steps back, running a hand through his tangled hair, pacing a few steps before turning around to face him again. “No, Eddie. It’s a terrible drive. Why would you drive here overnight?”

Eddie’s smile fades into something smaller, softer. Something that cracks Buck open in ways he can’t explain.

He breathes out, slow and tired, like he’s been carrying this answer forever.

“Why do you think, Buck?” Eddie says, voice rough around the edges, like it hurts to say it but he needs Buck to hear it anyway.

Buck stands there, staring at him, the answer so obvious it’s almost unbearable. His throat closes up, and for a second he thinks he might cry again.

Instead, he steps back from the doorway, heart pounding in his chest, and says in a voice that’s barely above a whisper, “Come on in.”

"Now, wheres my nephew?" 

***

Buck leans against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest, exhaustion weighing heavy on him, but it’s not what steals his breath away. t’s Eddie.

Eddie, sitting on the worn couch, cradling the baby so effortlessly it makes Buck’s heart ache. He’s got one broad hand supporting the tiny head, the other gently cupping the baby’s back, rocking him slightly with a natural ease Buck can barely believe. His voice is low and soft, smiling as he murmurs, “Hi, baby. I’m your Uncle Eddie.”

Buck swallows, throat tightening painfully. It feels like something sacred is happening in front of him, like he’s witnessing a moment he’ll never forget no matter how many years pass.

He lets himself stare, lets the longing rise in his chest unchecked, wild and overwhelming. Eddie is… God, he’s so beautiful it almost hurts to look at him. His face is open, unguarded in a way Buck doesn’t get to see often, all gentle smiles and tender touches. The morning light sneaks in through the window, casting a halo around his messy hair, catching the faint laugh lines by his eyes, softening everything about him.

Buck’s heart squeezes painfully.

He drove here. Overnight. From El Paso to L.A., like it was nothing. Like Buck was worth it. Buck’s loneliness, Buck’s fear, mattered enough for Eddie to get behind the wheel and just come to him.

No one’s ever done anything like that for him. Not like this. Not with that fierce, quiet kind of love Eddie carries in every move he makes. Buck’s spent so much of his life trying to earn scraps of attention, to be needed, wanted, kept and Eddie just shows up. No demands. No expectations. Just… here.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. He wants to fall to his knees and confess everything.

Instead, he stays rooted to the spot, breathing slow, memorizing every detail of Eddie smiling down at the baby like he’s the safest place on earth.

Eddie glances up at him, breaking Buck from the daze, his smile warm, almost shy. “Why’d they let him go home so soon?” he asks, nodding toward the baby.

Buck clears his throat, shifting his weight. “He’s completely healthy,” he explains, voice rasping from disuse and nerves. “Preeclampsia’s dangerous for the mother, not really for the baby.” He hesitates, then adds, almost shyly, “I, uh, looked it up. It affects the placenta but… once the baby’s delivered, they’re usually fine. It’s Maddie who needs more monitoring.”

Eddie watches him with something like pride in his eyes, and Buck feels the tips of his ears burn.

“The doctors said it would be better for the baby to be at home while Maddie recovers,” Buck continues, voice soft. “Maddie agreed. So, I bring him to her for a few hours every day. Just… so they can be together, even if she’s still recovering.”

Eddie nods slowly, eyes gentle. "Where's Jee?" he inquires and Buck sighs then smiles, "She's having the time of her life with Denny and Mara" 

They're silently admiring the baby before Eddie looks over at him, takes him in and asks, voice low and careful, “Have you slept?”

Buck hesitates a little too long, then lies weakly, “Yeah. Some.”

Eddie’s brows pull together, frowning, and he says, deadpan, “You’re lying.”

Buck shrugs, ducking his head, a tired, defeated laugh slipping from him.

“You go to sleep,” Eddie says firmly, standing up carefully with the baby tucked securely in his arms. “I’ll take care of him. Then we’ll take him to see his mom later, alright?”

Buck blinks at him, heart twisting. The tenderness, the certainty in Eddie’s voice threatens to undo him completely.

“Okay,” he whispers, because fighting would take too much energy—and because he wants to believe Eddie when he says he’s here to help.

As Buck shuffles off toward the bedroom, he looks back one last time and Eddie’s just standing there, rocking the baby with an ease that feels like a promise, like a home Buck has always been reaching for but never thought he could have.

***

Eddie carefully fastens the last tab on the baby’s diaper, wiping his hands clean on a cloth as he leans back with a soft sigh. The baby gurgles up at him, tiny fists waving aimlessly in the air, utterly content. Eddie smiles down at him, his heart giving a helpless tug.

He hears the soft thud of footsteps behind him and turns his head, finding Buck standing in the doorway.

Buck looks… wrecked. Swollen eyes, hair mussed in every direction, his shirt hanging wrinkled off one shoulder like he got dressed in a fight. But even like this, especially like this, he’s beautiful. So achingly beautiful that it physically hurts.

Buck drags a hand down his face, voice rough with sleep as he mutters, “I had no idea kids were this much work.”

Eddie chuckles lowly, shifting the baby to his chest. “Newborns actually sleep through the night,” he says, voice light, teasing. “Believe it or not, this is the easy part.”

Buck gapes at him, eyes wide, genuine horror on his face. He shrieks, an honest-to-God shriek, making Eddie laugh even harder.

“What part of this is easy?” Buck demands, hands flailing a little. “That first night, do you even know how many times I checked if he was breathing? Every fifteen minutes. I thought I was gonna die.”

Eddie presses his hand over his mouth to hide the grin spreading across his face. “Imagine how Maddie feels,” he says, sobering a little. His voice softens. “Being sick, away from her kid…”

Buck slumps into the nearest chair, rubbing at his chest like the thought physically aches. “God,” he breathes, “women don’t get enough credit for this. They really don’t.”

Eddie hums in agreement, bouncing the baby gently when he starts to fuss. His stomach growls loudly then, and he winces.

Buck hears it and grins, a slow, mischievous thing. “You want breakfast?”

Eddie looks up at him, a little caught off guard. “Starving,” he admits, sheepish.

Buck stands, stretching his arms over his head, his shirt riding up just enough for Eddie to catch a glimpse of soft skin before he looks away hurriedly. “Okay,” Buck says, tone light, easy. “You take care of the baby. I’ll get the food.”

And then—then it happens.

Buck steps closer, leans down without even a second of hesitation, and presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

It’s so fast, so casual, like it’s just another part of their routine. Like it’s nothing at all.

for Eddie, it’s everything.

He freezes, body rigid with shock. His mind goes utterly blank except for the feel of Buck’s lips against his skin, the faintest trace of breath, the slight warmth lingering even after Buck pulls away like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Buck is already bustling toward the kitchen, utterly unaware of the devastation he’s left behind.

Eddie just stands there, baby tucked against his chest, feeling like the ground underneath him has shifted permanently. He touches his cheek, fingers brushing the spot where Buck kissed him, stunned.

He’s dreamed of this, god, how he’s dreamed of this.

Of waking up to Buck wandering sleepily through their house. Of taking turns changing diapers and making breakfast. Of kids and cribs and Buck kissing him whenever he wants to.

Of a life built slow and steady together. Of belonging to each other in the small ways that matter most.

And now it’s here, or at least the faintest, cruelest glimpse of it is, just barely out of reach.

Eddie rocks the baby gently, swallowing hard around the ache rising in his throat.

He wants this life, wants Buck, with a desperation that rattles through every bone in his body.

By the time Eddie’s legs remember how to work, Buck’s already halfway across the kitchen, barefoot and moving with easy confidence. 

Buck’s good at this. Good at making a home out of whatever space he’s given, good at taking care of people without making it seem like a burden.

Eddie watches as Buck pulls out a carton of eggs and bacon, moving through the kitchen with practiced ease. He grabs a pan, flicks the stove on, and cracks the eggs with one hand like it’s nothing. There’s no mess, no hesitation, just Buck whistling low under his breath as he stirs them together and starts the bacon sizzling.

Eddie leans against the counter, still rocking the baby gently against his chest, just watching.

He tells himself it’s because he’s making sure Buck doesn’t burn the bacon but really, it’s because he can’t look away.

The soft light from the window hits Buck just right, making his hair glow, highlighting the strong lines of his arms as he moves. His tank top hanging loose off one shoulder, and he looks so good it makes Eddie’s heart hurt.

God, he’s pretty.

Eddie knows he’s staring. He knows he should say something, do something, but it’s like he’s rooted to the spot, anchored by the sight of Buck moving around his kitchen like he belongs there.

Because he does.

Buck glances over his shoulder and catches Eddie’s gaze, grinning a little like he knows exactly what’s happening. Eddie quickly looks away, heat crawling up his neck.

“You’re not gonna help?” Buck teases lightly, sliding a perfectly cooked plate of eggs and bacon in front of him.

Eddie huffs a laugh, shifting the baby carefully in his arms. “I’m holding a baby, Buck.”

“Sure, blame the baby,” Buck says, winking, before turning back to the stove to clean up.

Eddie watches him again, softer this time. Watches the way Buck hums under his breath, the way he wipes down the counter without even thinking about it. Watches the way he moves around the kitchen, the way he fits.

It’s dangerous, how easy it is to imagine this being their life. To imagine more mornings like this sleepy, messy, full of laughter and good food and love.

Buck brings over a cup of coffee next, setting it carefully beside Eddie with a proud little smile.

Eddie reaches out automatically, fingers brushing over Buck’s as he takes the mug and again, neither of them move away right away. The touch lingers, burning like a live wire under Eddie’s skin.

When Buck finally steps back, Eddie feels the loss of him like a physical thing.

He cradles the baby closer, hiding his smile in the soft hair, trying not to let the hope ballooning in his chest get too big, too reckless.

***

The knock at the door rattles Buck from his half-awake haze. He gently pats the baby’s back, murmuring something soft under his breath before setting him carefully in the bassinet. Eddie's still in the shower because he can still hear the water running.

When Buck swings the door open, the smile he tries to muster dies a quick death in his throat.

Issac stands there, grinning like he’s got no cares in the world, tall, broad, effortlessly handsome in a way that Buck’s always envied a little. His black curls are damp from a recent shower, his button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and he’s holding a bright bouquet of flowers like some rom-com heartthrob.

Immediately, Buck feels a twist of dread low in his gut.

Maybe it’s the residual awkwardness of knowing somehow, inexplicably that Eddie doesn’t like Issac. Buck doesn’t get it. Issac is a good guy. Funny, easy-going. But Eddie’s polite mask got thinner every time Ramirez’s name came up in their Facetimes. It’s not even hostility, really it’s this quiet, lethal stillness that sets Buck’s nerves on edge.

“hey Buck,” Ramirez greets.

Before Buck can answer, he hears footsteps behind him.

He turns, and sure enough, Eddie is standing there, a mask of indifference frozen on his face but it doesn’t fool Buck for a second. Not when he can feel the heat rolling off him, hot and thick and radiating through the air like a gathering storm.

He turns just as Eddie rounds the corner, still cradling the baby in his arms like he was made for it.

Eddie’s voice is low, casual. “Who’s at the door?” His hair dripping and getting his shirt wet. "The baby was crying" 

Buck sees Ramirez’s eyes light up the second he catches sight of Eddie like a mischievous thought just sparked into existence. That boyish grin deepens into something almost devilish. 

Before Buck can say anything, Ramirez thrusts the flowers at him instead.

“I got these for you,” he says with a wink.

For a full second, Buck just blinks at him, confused. His hand automatically rises to take the bouquet like a reflex, fingers closing stupidly around the stems.

He doesn’t get it. Why would Ramirez—

Eddie’s voice is perfectly even, almost dangerously mild. “Hey, Ramirez.”

Ramirez grins wider, oblivious or maybe not and claps Buck on the shoulder, a little too familiar. “Hey, Diaz. Good to finally see you in person, man.”

Buck wants to sink into the floor.

He feels suspended in the sharp, invisible current flowing between the two of them. Ramirez is all sunshine and jokes, practically vibrating with chaos, while Eddie is deadly calm, still holding the baby like it’s the only thing tethering him to sanity.

Buck shifts uncomfortably, the stupid bouquet still clutched awkwardly in his hand.

Ramirez, meanwhile, just barrels on, laughing easily. “So? You said we'd go to the hospital together”

Buck fumbles for an answer, feeling like he’s missing some crucial piece of the puzzle, some unspoken conversation happening right in front of him.

But Eddie answers first, voice so dry it could crack desert sand.

“He's going with me now” he says, and even though his tone is polite, his eyes are ice and fire and something Buck is too scared to name. "You can follow us in your car though" 

He watches Eddie turn and walk back into the living room, adjusting the baby’s blanket with careful, practiced hands. "I'll put him in the carseat, you go change, Buck" 

Buck looks down at the flowers in his hand. Looks at Ramirez, who’s beaming like he just won some private game. Buck swallows hard around the lump in his throat. Then does as he's told.

***

Eddie’s knuckles are tight around the steering wheel, white with the pressure of his grip. He hasn’t said a word since they pulled out of the driveway, jaw set, gaze locked forward, so focused it’s like Buck isn’t even sitting there next to him.

Buck shifts uncomfortably in his seat, biting at the inside of his cheek. The silence is too loud, too heavy.

“I forgot,” Buck says finally, voice small in the thick air between them.

Eddie just hums in response. Not agreeing, not disagreeing. Just… acknowledging.

Buck frowns, irritation bubbling up underneath the nerves. “Why don’t you like him anyway?”

For the first time since they started driving, Eddie cuts him a look; exasperated, tired, something else simmering just beneath the surface. “What’s there to like?” he mutters. “He’s annoying.” and you think he's perfect and incredible Eddie thinks to himself. 

Buck’s mouth drops open slightly. “Annoying? You—” he huffs a dry laugh, half in disbelief. 

Eddie doesn’t respond. His grip on the wheel just gets even tighter, the leather creaking under his fingers.

Buck blows out a frustrated breath, staring out the window before forcing himself to say, “The flowers were for Maddie. Not me.”

“I know,” Eddie says, voice low, almost gritted.

Buck turns to face him properly, eyes searching his profile — the hard set of his mouth, the tension lining his shoulders. “Then why,” Buck asks, voice more careful now, “did you get mad?”

“I didn’t,” Eddie says immediately, like a reflex. Too fast, too defensive.

Buck squints at him. “Right,” he says dryly. “You’ve been seething ever since he showed up.”

Eddie cuts him a sharp look, eyes dark, glittering in the passing headlights. For a moment, Buck swears Eddie’s about to snap back at him, deny it again. But then Eddie just exhales hard through his nose and turns his attention back to the road, jaw clenching.

Silence wraps around them again, thick as a thunderstorm about to break.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Buck says, heart thudding against his ribs, “I’d say you were jealous.”

He tries to keep it light. Tries to make it a joke.

But it lands heavy between them, serious and raw.

Eddie’s hands flex on the steering wheel. He blinks slowly once, twice, and then like he’s decided something he flicks his eyes over to Buck for half a second and says, quietly but clearly:

“What if I was?”

The world seems to stop moving. Buck’s breath catches painfully in his chest. His heart pounds so loudly he’s sure Eddie can hear it.

He turns to Eddie slowly, disbelieving. Eddie’s already looking at him, really looking, like he’s daring Buck to see it, the longing carved into every sharp line of his face, the hope he’s too afraid to voice.

The truck hums along the empty road, but neither of them moves, neither of them breathes.

Eddie drags his gaze back to the windshield, like the road might offer him protection from what he just admitted. His throat works like he’s swallowing back a thousand things he’s never said.

Buck stares at him at the strong line of his jaw, the furrow in his brow, the slight tremble in his hands now that the truth is out indirectly and feels his heart split open with a kind of desperate, aching love he doesn’t know what to do with.

He’s dreamed of this moment a thousand different ways, but none of them were like this none of them were so tender, so real, it makes his chest hurt.

Buck’s voice is almost a whisper when he says, “You don’t have to be.”

Eddie risks another glance at him, the smallest, softest smile playing at the corners of his mouth scared, hopeful, full of something that looks a lot like love.

“Yeah,” Eddie says roughly, like he’s talking more to himself than Buck, “I do.”

And all Buck can do is sit there, heart hammering against his ribs, as the distance between them collapses into something brand new and terrifying and perfect.

***

The hospital room is quiet, save for the soft hum of monitors and the occasional distant beep from down the hallway. Eddie sits in the chair beside Buck, who’s perched near Maddie’s bed, the baby cradled safely in her arms now. 

There’s a calmness in the air, seeing Maddie awake, smiling weakly but smiling all the same, tears in her eyes as she coos down at her son has Buck beaming.

Eddie tells himself to focus on Maddie, on the reunion happening in front of him but it’s hard when Buck’s so close. When he’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them, his head tilted slightly to the side as he watches Maddie and the baby with so much love it practically radiates off of him.

He doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. This need, to make everything about Buck. 

Buck’s shoulder brushes against his when he shifts slightly, a small, unconscious movement, but Eddie feels the warmth of it down to his fingertips. He breathes in, slow and steady, grounding himself, trying to pretend that it’s just casual that he isn’t hyperaware of every molecule of Buck’s body next to his.

He glances sideways, catches Buck already looking at him.

Buck doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch or pretend he wasn’t staring. His mouth curls up in the faintest of smiles, soft and tired and just for him, and Eddie feels something inside his chest crack open a little wider.

He smiles back before he can think better of it, a small, almost bashful thing, and Buck’s eyes warm at the sight. There’s a pull between them, invisible and undeniable, humming in the air like a current only they can feel.

Buck’s knee bumps against Eddie’s and lingers, not quite pressing, not quite retreating. Eddie doesn’t move away. His fingers brush against the side of Buck’s hand where they both rest on their knees just the barest ghost of a touch, enough to send a shiver down Eddie’s spine.

It’s so stupid, he thinks. They’re sitting here surrounded by the sharp smell of antiseptic and the quiet sounds of machines, exhausted beyond reason, and all he can think about is how badly he wants to turn his hand over, to catch Buck’s fingers between his own and just hold on.

Buck laughs softly at something Maddie says, a breathless, beautiful sound and Eddie feels it in his bones. Buck’s head drops for a second, curls falling into his eyes, and Eddie aches with the need to reach out and brush them away.

He doesn’t. He stays still. Barely breathing.

Later, when Maddie dozes off, her arms still curled protectively around the baby, Buck leans back into the chair with a long sigh. His head tips toward Eddie, close enough that Eddie can feel the faint warmth of Buck’s breath against his shoulder.

Neither of them speaks. It’s the kind of silence thats not awkward or heavy, but is full. Brimming with everything they’re too scared to say out loud.

Buck’s hand twitches slightly, knuckles brushing Eddie’s thigh by accident or maybe not. Eddie doesn’t move away. Instead, he lets his pinky finger drift until it’s barely touching Buck’s. The tiniest, most reckless contact. A tether.

Buck shifts closer. His own pinky curling against Eddie's, Eddie can feel him thinking about it, debating it, and then Buck lets his head lean into Eddie’s shoulder, light at first, almost testing.

Eddie exhales, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Slowly, carefully, he leans back, the weight of Buck’s head settling more firmly against him.

He closes his eyes for just a second, letting himself have this the feel of Buck’s hair brushing against his neck, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the knowledge that he’s here, that Buck let himself lean into him.

When Eddie opens his eyes, Buck’s already looking up at him, gaze soft and sleepy and so full of unspoken things that it makes Eddie’s chest ache. He wants to say something. Anything.

But Buck just smiles slow, sweet, a little shy and Eddie can’t help but mirror it, warmth blooming in his chest. He leans in without even thinking, drawn to Buck like he’s gravity itself. Buck’s eyes widen slightly at the movement, but he doesn’t move away. If anything, he shifts forward too, the distance between them narrowing, barely noticeable but felt all the same.

Eddie can practically feel the heat radiating off Buck’s skin when:

“Hey guys—”

Hen’s voice cuts through the room like a knife.

They both jerk back like they’ve been burned, the movement so sudden it startles Maddie awake in her hospital bed. She lets out a soft, confused noise, blinking blearily at them.

Hen raises an eyebrow, glancing between them, suspicion written all over her face.

“Hey, Maddie,” Hen says smoothly, deciding, bless her, to pretend like she hadn’t just walked in on something she absolutely did. She moves toward Maddie’s bedside, starting to fuss with her blanket and IV line.

Eddie exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, silently thanking a God he doesn’t even believe in anymore.

Next to him, Buck has turned a shade of pink so deep it creeps down his neck, and Eddie thinks, dazedly, that he’s never seen anything so pretty in his entire life.

“How are you feeling?” Hen asks Maddie gently, her voice soft.

Maddie manages a tired smile. “Better. Just… weak.”

Hen nods. “That’s normal. You went through a lot.” She pulls a small tablet from her pocket and taps it. “I just spoke to Chim’s doctors. He’s stable,” she says, and Buck visibly sags in relief next to Eddie. “They think he’ll make a full recovery, but it’s going to take some time. His immune system took a big hit from the infection.”

“Can I see him?” Eddie asks immediately, the words tumbling out before he can think. His voice sounds hoarse even to his own ears.

Hen smiles warmly. “Yeah. They’re limiting visitors, but you’re on the list. You should go.”

Eddie glances sideways at Buck, who’s still stealing quick glances at him when he thinks Eddie isn’t looking, face flushed, lip tugged between his teeth like he can still feel the almost-kiss hanging between them.

The air between them is buzzing, alive with electricity and Eddie doesn’t want to lose it. Doesn’t want Buck to think for a second he’s backing away now.

“I’m gonna go see Chim,” Eddie says, pushing up from his chair with careful ease, throwing Buck a pointed look he hopes says come with me.

Buck catches the look instantly. He hesitates for a beat just long enough for Eddie’s heart to lurch then scrambles to his feet too.

“Yeah, me too,” Buck says quickly. “We’ll be back.”

Hen smirks to herself as they leave, but doesn’t comment. Maddie just watches them go with a knowing little smile.

Outside, the hospital benches are cool against the backs of their legs as they sit side by side. The evening is quiet, the air smelling faintly of antiseptic and blooming flowers from the hospital garden.

They don’t speak for a long moment. Eddie can feel the tension coiled tight between them, the almost-kiss hanging in the air like a secret.

Then Buck blurts, voice rough and rushed, “I don’t want our first kiss to be at a hospital.”

Eddie blinks. He turns to Buck, who’s staring stubbornly at the ground, cheeks flaming red again.

And Eddie just laughs.

A real, full-bodied laugh that feels like it cracks open something inside him that’s been closed off for too long. He hasn’t laughed like this in months. Not since he’s been away from Buck. 

Buck frowns at him, mock-offended. “What?!”

Eddie wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “I wasn’t going to kiss you.”

Buck narrows his eyes, leaning back against the bench with his arms crossed. “Please,” he scoffs. “Don’t act like you haven’t been dying to kiss me.”

Eddie raises his hands in surrender, still smiling. “Okay, maybe a little,” he admits, voice softer now, tinged with a kind of reverence.

Buck turns even redder, ducking his head. He looks up at Eddie from under his lashes, and it’s unfair how beautiful he is.

“So,” Eddie says, inching just slightly closer, “I can kiss you? Just… not here?”

Buck bites his lip again, nods quickly. “Yeah. You can kiss me,” he murmurs.

And Eddie feels it, the entire future stretching out before him, golden and warm and possible.
Because Buck wants him. Because maybe he hasn’t ruined everything after all.

They decide to walk to Chimney's room since thats what they said they'd be doing as they walk side by side, their shoulders brush the most casual of touches. It’s almost nothing, a fleeting contact that doesn’t warrant attention. But it sends a spark of warmth through Eddie’s chest. 

Without thinking, Eddie’s hand moves just a little closer to Buck’s, and before either of them knows it, his fingers gently curl around Buck’s. It’s a simple, tender gesture. 

Buck’s head tilts slightly, a smile tugging at his lips, slow and fond, as though he’d been waiting for this. His heart flutters, and though he tries to keep his expression neutral, there’s a softness in his eyes that Eddie catches. 

Eddie’s thumb brushes over the back of Buck’s hand, the movement instinctual, soothing. There’s something so familiar, so easy, about holding his hand.

***

A week passes, and the house feels emptier than it ever has. The quiet is deafening. Buck sits on the couch, his phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly through photos of the baby, of Maddie, Chimney, and the time he spent with Eddie. He’s grateful that things are finally settling, that Chimney and Maddie are both home and doing well, but the absence of that small, precious life in his arms, the absence of Eddie, is making him feel more empty than he has in a long time.

He runs a hand through his hair, looking around the house like he’s forgotten what it feels like to be here without someone else in it. Without them. Without the baby and without Eddie. He never thought it would be this hard, this heavy, to go from having a home filled with so much love and life to this silence.

Buck takes a deep breath and picks up his phone, swiping to FaceTime Chris’s name. His first baby. He needs to hear a familiar voice, needs to feel connected to the people who make this whole mess (of his life) worth it. The screen flickers for a moment before Chris’s face appears, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile.

“Hey, Buck,” Chris greets, his voice light.

“Hey, kid,” Buck says softly, trying to smile back. But it feels forced, and Chris catches it.

“How are you?” Chris asks, his tone as serious as a kid his age can manage.

"I'm good, Chris-" Buck hesitates, the sadness creeping into his voice before he can stop it. “I just miss you.”

Chris’s face softens. “I miss you too,” he says, and there’s a long pause before he adds, “It’s… weird, without you here. Dad isn't as good of a cook”

Buck laughs, warmth settling in his chest, tightening the space around his heart. He never realized how much he relied on their time together to feel sane.

Buck takes a slow breath, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah. It’s been tough. I miss you both… so much.” He swallows, feeling the lump in his throat. “How are things at school?" They talk about school, college and Chris's friends for a while. Buck tells Chris about the baby and how tiny he is. 

Theres a moment of lull in the conversation when  Chris’s eyes flash with something determined, a shift in his expression. “Buck,” he starts, then hesitates. He looks like he’s trying to work up the courage for something big. 

“I have a surprise for you.”

Buck tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing in curiosity. “What is it?”

“I asked Dad if we could move back to LA.” Chris grins, his eyes lighting up. 

Buck’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he feels like the ground has shifted under him. He’s frozen, not quite sure if he heard Chris correctly. His eyes brim with tears as the weight of the words sink in.

“What?” Buck’s voice cracks, and he feels his heart begin to beat faster, the sudden rush of emotion overwhelming him. “You really want to?”

"Yeah" Chris nods, his face serious but soft. “I don’t want to be far from you." He says in a quite voice. Buck nods in agreement.

"I already lost one parent. I’m not ready to lose another.” His voice falters just a bit on the last words, the sincerity behind them catching Buck off guard.

A tear slips down Buck’s cheek before he can stop it. He wipes it away quickly, his heart swelling with love for this kid who always seems to know exactly what to say to make him feel seen. “Chris, I—”

Chris’s smile widens, a warmth in his eyes that reaches deep into Buck’s soul. “I love you too, Buck.”

The words are simple, but they mean the world to Buck as he holds the phone closer to his face, trying to steady the emotions that are rushing through him. 

***

Buck ends his FaceTime call with Chris and immediately dials Eddie, his mind racing. “Where will I live?” he blurts out, panic creeping into his voice. “You’re gonna come back, and I don’t have the loft, and Maddie has her hands full, and Bobby doesn’t have a room for me—”

Eddie, already grinning at the other end, cuts him off with a calm, reassuring voice. “Woah, woah, Buck. I’m not gonna kick you out of our house.”

Buck freezes. The words hang in the air. “Our house?” he echoes, feeling lightheaded. “We haven’t even kissed, and you’re talking about moving in together?”

Eddie chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment. “There’ll be time for kissing.”

Buck whines, frustration mixing with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m being serious here! We’re doing everything wrong.”

Eddie hums thoughtfully, as if considering it for a moment before casually throwing out, “Maybe we should get married?”

Buck gasps, the shock clear in his voice. “You are not proposing to me on a FaceTime call! Take it back!”

Eddie, still teasing, says, “But Buck—”

Buck cuts him off, panic rising in his voice. “Take it back!”

Eddie laughs, a soft, affectionate sound. “Okay, okay, I take it back.”

Buck sighs in relief but then mumbles, more quietly, “You really know how to make a guy’s heart skip a beat" 

"It's a gift" 

***

Eddie pushes Chris’s wheelchair (since they were flying Eddie had asked Chris if he would be more comfortable with a wheelchair as opposed to his crutches and Chris had agreed) through the busy terminal of LAX, his heart racing with every step. It’s been months, but the anticipation is still there, thrumming in his chest. He keeps his gaze scanning the crowd, searching for the person he’s been longing to see, his stomach fluttering with excitement and nerves. And then, there he is.

Buck stands a few yards away, his curly hair catching the light in a way that makes it look almost blonde in the golden warmth spilling through the terminal windows. Eddie’s eyes trace the familiar, soft contours of Buck’s face—his birthmark standing out faintly, a soft pink against his skin, like the shade of his lips. His sweater looks cozy and warm, a perfect fit, and Buck waves at them, his smile wide and inviting. The sheer softness of him is almost too much to handle, and Eddie feels an overwhelming rush of affection flood his chest. It takes him a second to register that Carla is standing next to Buck, waving frantically as well. 

Without even realizing it, he speeds up, the wheelchair’s wheels clicking against the floor as he quickens his pace. Chris giggles below him, breaking through the haze of his thoughts. “Way to be subtle, Dad.”

Eddie barely glances at him, his focus fixed solely on Buck. “Shut up. I’ve waited too long for this,” he mutters, the words rushed, his voice rough with the emotions he’s been holding in for far too long.

As they draw closer, Buck doesn’t wait a second longer. He’s already moving toward them, Carla in tow launching himself at Chris first as Carla hugs Eddie. His arms wrap around the boy, and he presses soft, desperate kisses to his cheeks and head. Chris, though his face scrunches in mock irritation, can’t hide the fondness in his eyes. “Ugh, Buck, please stop,” he groans, but Eddie can see it. Chris secretly loves it.

And then, before Eddie can react, Buck is in front of him. The momentum catches Eddie off guard as Buck practically throws himself into his arms, the impact making him stumble back a step. But Eddie catches him, always catches him, because Buck is no burden, never a burden. He’s everything Eddie’s been holding onto.

They stand like that for a long time, arms around each other, the world blurring around them. Buck presses his face into Eddie’s shoulder, his voice a whisper against his skin. “You’re home.”

Eddie’s heart skips. “I’m home,” he murmurs back, feeling the weight of the words more than he ever expected to. He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to break the perfect moment. But they part slowly, reluctantly, the space between them feeling suddenly too wide.

Eddie looks at Buck, and Buck’s eyes, those familiar, endless blue eyes, are locked onto his, he feels a wave of the overwhelming feeling he’s been craving, something he’s missed for too long.

Buck glances at Chris and Carla, then looks back at Eddie, a silent question in his gaze. It doesn’t take much—just a small, almost imperceptible nod from Chris, as if to say, go ahead. 

"I'll take Chris to the car" Carla announces. 

And then Eddie doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate. His lips find Buck’s, soft and tentative at first, like a question, a promise. The kiss is everything Eddie’s dreamed of—gentle but full of longing, of everything unsaid between them. It’s warm, like the light flooding through the terminal windows, and for that moment, nothing else matters. There’s no time, no space, just the feel of Buck’s lips against his, the way the kiss deepens, soft and slow, like it’s been waiting for this moment too.

When they pull apart, it feels like a lifetime has passed, but neither of them moves away. They just stare at each other, breathless, Buck glances down at his lips for a second before kissing him again, and again and again. 

"You came back" Buck says breathlessly as he rests his head against Eddie's shoulder. "Everyone always leaves, but you—you came back to me" 

"I never wanted to leave" Eddie says, placing his lips over Buck for another chaste kiss, he can't get enough, being here in Buck's arms is where he's meant to be. 

"Because my life began when I had Chris, and then it began again when I met you and ever since I've known you, I've known love" Eddie whispers as he feels Buck tremble in his arms. 

He really doesn't know when just Buck became Buck but what he does know is that was his second beginning, and he hope that there will be no end. 

"I love you" Buck whispers, "I love you, I love you" he keeps repeating it as he lifts his head and kisses Eddie again. 

***

Buck's in the kitchen, standing at the stove, his apron covered in flour, his hair falling into his eyes as he stirs the sauce. He tastes it, and immediately makes a face.

“This is terrible,” he mutters to himself, wiping his hand across his mouth. His frustration is evident in the way he stirs the pot as if it’s personally offended him. The sauce isn’t coming together the way he wants, no matter how many times he tries to fix it. He adds a little more salt, then tastes again, shaking his head. “This isn’t even close…”

It’s been seven months since Buck and Eddie started dating and living together, and Buck finally understands what it means to have a home. But tonight, they have the unfortunate misfortune of hosting Buck’s parents for dinner, and Buck wants to die.

Just as he’s about to make another adjustment, Eddie bursts into the kitchen, holding two shirts in his hands, looking every bit the picture of confusion. 

“Which one?” Eddie asks, his tone an anxious mix of frustration and desperation.

Buck looks up, amused. “My parents won’t care what shirt you wear, Eddie.”

Eddie lets out a frustrated huff, dropping both shirts onto the chair next to him. “I’ve been trying on everything in my closet, and nothing seems to work.” 

He throws his hands up in defeat, dropping the shirts on the chair and looking at the pile of clothes like they’re the source of all his problems.

“Eddie, don’t just throw the shirts away, it’ll ruin the ironing,” Buck says dryly, being completely unhelpful. 

“Yes, dear,” Eddie deadpans, rolling his eyes, clearly not amused. He moves towards Buck and wraps his arms around Buck's waist from behind. Trying to sneak his hand towards the counter.

Used to his antics Buck swats Eddie’s hand away just as Eddie tries to sneak a spoonful of pasta from the bowl. 

“You’re a cruel chef,” Eddie says as he buries his face into Buck’s back, inhaling the smell of the sauce. “That smells great.”

Buck sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “I’ve made the sauce twice now, and it’s still not right.” He stirs the pot with exaggerated frustration, the scent of garlic and tomato filling the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Eddie presses his lips to Buck’s shoulder. “That’s not much different from trying on multiple shirts, is it?”

Buck pauses for a moment, considering that, before grinning. “Baby, just wear the pink one.”

Eddie pulls away slightly to give Buck a confused look. “Your parents will think I’m gay.”

“Yeah, they thought you were gay when I told them we’re engaged.” Buck deadpans. 

“Sweetheart, I just want your parents to like me.” Eddie huffs, looking down at the shirt options lying discarded on the chair. 

Buck pauses, then turns to face Eddie, giving him a long, steady stare. He tilts his head in confusion as he says:

“Baby, they don’t even like me.”