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Eddie Díaz was a simple man.
He liked cars.
He liked (some) sports.
He liked spending time with his son and his friends.
He did not—under any circumstances—like drama.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
And his coworkers.
And his family.
And literally anyone who would listen.
Unfortunately, every single person who had ever met him thought he was lying through his teeth.
“Eddie, man, I’m just saying,” Chim said, leaning against the fire truck, “you can’t tell me you don’t like drama when you just told me, unprompted may i add, that your neighbor’s cousin’s boyfriend got arrested for faking his own death because he didn’t want to go to his wedding.”
Eddie frowned. “That’s not drama. That’s just... interesting.”
Chim chuckled "and how did you find that out?!
"I... heard them talking" Hen looked at him unimpressed "while i was sitting next to the fence"
Hen snorted. “Gossip.”
“Its not my fault they’re loud talkers!”
“Uh-huh.”
Eddie crossed his arms, scowling. “I don’t like drama.”
“Sure you don’t.”
Then there was Buck.
Buck was drama.
He didn’t create it intentionally, but it followed him like a damn cloud.
If Eddie was a calm pound, Buck was the hurricane that crashed into it.
And Eddie loved him it.
Not that he’d admit it.
Not when Buck was currently pacing in front of his couch, ranting about the latest 118 group chat disaster, waving his phone like it had personally offended him.
“I’m just saying, you can’t call someone a himbo and then turn around and ask them for help changing a tire!” Buck said, animated, blue eyes bright and wild.
Eddie bit back a smile. “You call Ravi a himbo like a week ago.”
“Yeah, but in a complimentary way!”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. “How is that complimentary?”
“It means... like he... he’s hot and helpful!”
Eddie lost it and laughed.
Buck stopped pacing “You’re laughing at me.”
“Always,” Eddie said, grinning. “You’re ridiculous.”
Buck mock-gasped. “Excuse me?”
Eddie tilted his head. “You thrive on chaos. You’re like... if a soap opera was a person.”
Buck put a hand to his chest dramatically. “How dare you! I bring fun to your boring life!”
Eddie smirked. “You mean drama.”
Buck’s grin turned sly. “Oh, so you do like drama.”
“I don’t.”
"You do!"
"I really don’t"
“Well you love me.”
Eddie froze.
Buck did too.
His eyes widened. “I mean, not—uh—not that you—”
But it was too late. Eddie’s heart had already done that thing—jumping, twisting, settling in his throat.
He could deny it.
He should deny it.
Instead, he sighed, setting his beer on the coffee table.
Put on a funny tone “You’re impossible.”
Buck smiled nervously. “Takes one to know one.”
There was a pause. A long one. The kind that hung heavy and warm in the space between two people who had run out of excuses.
Then Eddie leaned forward, reaching for Buck’s hand. “Maybe I like a little drama.”
Buck blinked. “Yeah?”
Eddie smiled. “As long as it’s you.”
Buck’s face lighted up. “Good. Because I come with a lot of it.”
“I noticed.”
The next morning, when Hen walked into the station and saw Buck sitting on Eddie’s lap while they went over paperwork like it was the most normal thing in the world, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Chim peeked over her shoulder and whispered, “Who had October in the betting pool?”
Hen raised a hand. “Me.”
Eddie didn’t even look up. “You’re all dramatic.”
Buck snorted. “Says the guy who kissed me in the middle of a bar last night because a girl came up to us.”
Hen cackled. “Oh, he’s the drama!”
Eddie sighed, cheeks pink. “Am I the drama?”
Buck kissed his cheek. “Baby, you’re the drama.”
And Eddie—simple, non-dramatic, perfectly normal Eddie—smiled.
Maybe a little drama wasn’t so bad.