Chapter Text
They don't talk for a few weeks.
At first, Buck tries texting him, asking what movie Eddie and Chris want to watch that Friday. By the third 'We're busy' text, he apparently gets the message. Then, the leftovers start showing up outside his door. When he leaves them there all night, they show up in a cooler with an ice pack the next day.
He takes them after that, not too proud to let good risotto go to waste.
Chris asks after Buck too, but he's a good kid and probably too perceptive for his own good. His eyebrows are drawn up in concern when he asks, "Are you okay, Dad?" after Eddie tells him that Buck is seeing Maddie that Friday. It doesn't feel good to lie to his kid, but he imagines it will feel worse to see Buck. The last image he has of him is much like the first; glowing, tousled, bright. He wants to blot it out of his mind.
And maybe he's being too harsh, what right did he have to be angry? It was like he always told Lena, they're neighbors. Nothing more, nothing less.
Carla comes over more and she gives him a hug when she leaves, something she hasn't done since the first months after Shannon. He holds her and pretends he doesn't notice Chris watching from his doorway.
---
Eddie throws himself into his work. He's a damned good firefighter when he's not distracted. He always falters mid-day though, still not used to the deli meat sandwiches he packs himself. Lena notices too and teases him about his "housewife" slacking off. He shuts down, surprised at how much the joke hurts. She prods a few more times but after that, their lunch breaks feel strangely tense.
The call is a kitchen fire, but it's not domestic. Commercial. Eddie has a love-hate relationship with commercial fires. They're always huge, high quantities of flammable oils and high heat, but their protocol and resources are usually unmatched. The place they're called to doesn't look promising on the outside; dark brick, a narrow staircase down into a half-basement. They run in, clearing tables and patrons to make the most direct path to the kitchen; its obvious where the fire is, smoke is billowing out of a stainless steel service window. Eddie vaults over it and begins to assess.
Its less intense than he'd thought, or maybe just well-managed. The smoke is still an issue and he begins escorting the remaining staff out. One man is laying down, shrouded in smoke and his shift lead quickly directs his attention there.
"Sir?" He says, trying to get a good look at his face.
"Eddie?"
Oh. The restaurant - no, bar - must be the Jackelope. Eddie steels himself, glad for his visor suddenly and the transparent barrier it provides. The separation of it. "Are you injured?"
"Uh, no. No. Just the smoke." Buck says. His blue eyes are cloudy and he has a smudge of soot across the bridge of his nose. "I did what you told me to, that time when we watched Firestorm. It stopped the fire quicker, I think."
"Good, good." Eddie sighs, relief unbidden. "Let's get into some fresh air." He pulls Buck's arm around his shoulder, allowing him to lean heavily as they maneuver out of the mostly charred kitchen. The rest of the bar is untouched, just thick with smoke. Eddie follows the glow of white daylight to the doorway where Lena is waiting. As he moves to pass Buck off, he feels fingers dig into his bicep.
"No. Just, can it be you? I don't want..." Buck's voice is hoarse and Eddie feels something twist in his heart. "Please."
"I don't know if that's a good idea."
Lena looks between the two of them then holds a hand up. "Not my call, Diaz."
Eddie forces himself to meet Buck's eyes. Kool-aid blue. He nods. "C'mon then."
He leads them to a metal bench, built just off the brick facade of the Jackelope. Buck sits down heavily and wheezes a little. He's in his usual black outfit, but Eddie's mouth twists for a different reason this time. He's got smudges of black all up and down his arms and neck. Eddie quickly hauls out his kit and fumbles for the mask and oxygen. Buck tilts his head up dutifully when Eddie secures the straps around his ears and cups the mask to his face. Buck's eyes flutter closed as he takes deep breaths and Eddie mimics him, exhaling slow and careful. He tries not to notice the panic that is slowly receding, the feeling that had flared up when he'd seen Buck crumpled on the floor.
Buck's hand comes up to his and tries to pull the mask away. Eddie fixes him with a dark look. "Not yet. You let me do my job, Buckley."
Buck makes a miserable noise and takes a few more pointed breaths.
Satisfied, Eddie lifts the mask. "You should be okay, but if it's still bothering you in a week, hospital."
"Yeah, I know," Buck says dourly.
"Good." Eddie allows himself one last lingering look before he stands. "See you around, then."
"See you around?" Buck tries to stand too but his knees won't hold him.
Eddie takes a step back.
"You don't talk to me for weeks and you think you can say 'see you around"?!" Buck's voice crackles into a cough. "Fuck you. Really, fuck you."
Eddie gapes a little. They're causing a scene and he thinks for a second of just cutting his losses and making a break for the truck. Buck reaches out though, those boney fingers closing around his wrist.
"Sit down, Eddie Diaz. You are going to talk to me." He says with conviction.
Eddie sits.
"I thought maybe you needed time. Like, you already live in your head and so I was giving you time to figure it out. But I can't keep waiting, Eddie." His hand migrates from Eddie's wrist until they are palm to palm, the soot transferring from Buck's skin to his. "I miss you. I miss Chris." His eyes are pleading, but angry. Eddie feels his own anger rise to match, hot under his thick uniform.
"Did you miss us when you had your friend over? When you woke me up to, to-" He struggles to find the words, fingers tightening around Buck's hand.
Buck has the decency to look ashamed. The corners of his mouth turn down and he turns his head away. "That was a mistake."
Eddie wants to laugh.
"But you can't-" Buck lets out a sigh, the air rough coming from his dry lips. "You have to understand, I thought that night, the fire alarm..." His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "You said you don't date. Like, you were abundantly clear. And I was so," He looks up at the sky for a second, cheeks reddening. "I wanted you so, so badly, Diaz."
Before Eddie can speak, Buck continues.
"So I was mad." He grinds out. "Not at you, or not entirely, but at the whole thing. At whatever made you decide you couldn't be with someone. With me."
"I never meant you." Eddie cuts in. "Everyone else, I meant I didn't want to date anyone else. It didn't even cross my mind that you could mean it like that."
"How could you not know that I wanted you?"
It's all so much. The lingering smoke in the air, the soot, Buck's blue, blue eyes. Eddie thinks people are probably staring at this point. He reaches up with his free hand and takes his helmet off, the visor sliding easily from his face. Buck's hand slides up his wrist, his shoulder, over the heavy padding of his uniform, and to his neck. He squeezes once.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you." He says.
Eddie leans into the touch, feverish and almost desperate for the contact. "I'm sorry too, for ignoring you." It's hard to get out, to admit he'd acted childishly.
"Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?" Buck lets go. "I think you should probably go."
Eddie looks over his shoulder at the truck, where Lena is pointedly looking in the opposite direction. The engine is running. "Yeah," He says reluctantly.
They both stand, Buck wobbly and Eddie feeling uncertain on his feet too. "Can I see you tonight?" Despite all they've confessed, Buck still sounds nervous. Eddie is overcome with familiar affection.
"Yeah."
They part, Eddie fighting the urge to look over his shoulder as he walks back to the truck.
As he reaches the passenger side door, he hears a rush of steps. Before he knows it, he's pressed against the side of the truck and Buck is looming over him. "I want to kiss you." He says, ever direct. "Please."
Eddie moves first, tasting soot and ozone and lime on Buck's lips. They only kiss for a moment before Buck has to pull away to breathe. "Thanks." He says softly, breathing smoky air onto Eddie's cheeks. "Now, go."
---
Later, sitting dazedly in the back of the fire truck, Lena leans over and wipes a thumb across his cheekbone. "You had some soot, Diaz." She says, holding back a laugh.
