Archive of Our Own

but i'm addicted to disastrous thinking

and i think that you are too

a tornado just swept through this town

we barely made it through

- disaster master by nanna

Buck sucks in a deep, slow breath, the threat of tears — happy, joyful tears — imminent for the second (or third or fourth) time tonight.

There’s a lazy breeze, slightly cooler in the evening air, that makes the twinkling overhead lights sway, the pleasant tinkle of laughter and easy conversation mixing with the sound of the city that’s brimming with life. Buck takes a sip of champagne, marvels at the way the bubbles pop and fizz against his tongue, the warmth that pools in his gut as he watches Eddie take a perfectly synchronized dance step with Karen just across the way. His eyes roam from the tiny, makeshift dance floor to where Chimney and Maddie are standing, deep in conversation with Albert and Ravi.

Tonight is their surprise engagement party and Buck is pleased to see that he (and Athena and Hen) had pulled it off flawlessly. They’re at a beautiful rooftop bar and restaurant with star shaped lights and two farmers tables laden with greenery and glass jars of colorful wildflower bouquets. There’s a set of chairs and couches in the back corner next to a table filled with Maddie and Chimney’s favorite desserts and half a raspberry and lemon cake that was shaped like an engagement ring. The quiet dinner music trickled into a mixture of fun pop and line dance songs that have people migrating between the bar and the dance floor.

Maddie and Chimney haven’t stopped smiling all night and fuck if that doesn’t make Buck want to cry (again). He feels so unbelievably happy that it almost scares him. It does scare him. It was only a couple months ago he was lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life — coming so close to losing this. His family. And sometimes it doesn’t seem real. Sometimes he’s afraid when he closes his eyes he’ll wake up and be somewhere he doesn’t belong. Be someone he wasn’t supposed to be. He’s working on it. There’s still a nightmare or two that catch him off guard, but the Lichtenberg scars have steadily faded and he’s side by side with his team, closer to them than he’s ever been. He’ll get there.

And he doesn’t have to do it alone.

“Hey,” Eddie smiles, dropping down into the seat next to his, cheeks tinted a pretty pink that makes Buck’s mouth go a little dry.

Buck hides his grin in his champagne, taking another swig, feeling pleasantly buzzed. Eddie’s discarded his jacket for the evening and he is clumsily attempting to roll the sleeves of his button up, a small furrow creasing in his brow as his fingers fumble with the fabric. Buck snorts an undignified laugh and Eddie glares at him, but there’s no real heat behind it.

“Okay, Channing Tatum,” Buck laughs again, setting his glass down, “let me help.”

“Is that a Magic Mike reference?” Eddie asks a little indignantly, but the slight curl to his lips gives him away.

“It was a Step Up reference, obviously,” Buck scoffs as he motions to Eddie to hand his arm over.

“Obviously,” Eddie rolls his eyes, but they crinkle fondly when he holds out his hands, letting Buck do all the work.

Buck’s tongue pokes out between his teeth, tucked in the corner of his mouth as he carefully folds back the material of Eddie’s shirt, the pads of his fingers brushing across near blistering skin. He takes his time, longer than he probably needs to, but Eddie is so pliant and relaxed beneath his touch that it sends goosebumps racing beneath the sleeves of his burnt orange sweater. Besides, Buck can’t really be blamed if he takes and takes and takes. Not when Eddie is willingly giving it to him. He might not get these moments with Eddie anymore, especially not since he started dating again.

Well. Kind of. Sort of.

Another work in progress type thing.

Eddie will go on a date, mostly first, a handful of second, almost never any thirds, and come back home where Buck is spending time with Christopher or overseeing Christopher and his friends (he’s been dubbed the Pizza King a very serious title from a group of four twelve year olds) and Buck will try to genuinely ask about them. He’ll listen to Eddie explain why they’ll never work out. Vague and nonspecific reasons that leave Buck a little more confused as to what Eddie really wants because they end the night on the Diaz couch with a few beers between them and the distance that was once so impermeable when he got struck by lightning (when Eddie left the 118) shrink with each passing day.

“We haven’t done the picture thing yet,” Eddie says with a smile that reminds Buck of moonlight, soft and ethereal, like it can chase away all the dark shadows that billow between the spaces of Buck’s ribs.

“The what?” Buck asks with a laugh as he begrudgingly lets Eddie go.

He clumsily reaches for his champagne flute to try and fight off the feeling of emptiness that slowly begins to fill the cavity in his chest and nearly spills the rest of it down his front when Eddie’s hand lands comfortably on Buck’s knee, squeezing gently.

“The photo booth.” Eddie answers, nodding his head toward the corner of the roof where there’s a small photo booth people have been ducking into all night to take pictures.

“S—sure we did,” Buck stutters out and he tries to duck his head so Eddie can’t see the blush blooming across his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “with the team, but not just me and you.”

Oh.

Buck would be amazed if his face didn’t match the color of his birthmark right now, but Eddie just looks pleased, smiling in that way Buck knows is just for him. He sets the glass down and tries to find all of his lost bravado as he lays his hand over Eddie’s, brushing his thumb over warm skin.

“Lead the way,” Buck says and nearly melts into his chair when Eddie grins bright and blinding like the sun.

Eddie gracefully gets up in one sweeping motion, his hand wrapping around Buck’s to pull the younger man to his feet. Buck lets himself fall in Eddie’s gravity. It’s easy; like Buck’s been doing it all his life. And maybe he has. Maybe that feeling — that pull pull pull — has lived in Buck’s very core since the moment he took his first breath and all the breaths since then. Maybe the universe and the galaxies stole the faintest dusting of stardust it used to make Eddie Diaz, kept it safe and tucked away, only compressing it into blood and bones and life when Evan Buckley was brought into this world.

Eddie tugs him around the table, only held together by their pinky fingers, but where Eddie goes, Buck always follows. No one really notices them tangled together with crinkled eyes and crooked smiles as they make their way across the roof towards the photo booth. Out of the corner of his eye he can see most of the couples slow dancing, eyes only for each other as some soft ballad floats over the evening breeze. He feels his heart skip a beat or two, pounding so hard he might as well reach in and pry it out, just to give himself a reprieve. He knows it’d be safe in Eddie’s hands. Even if this doesn’t mean anything more than two best friends capturing a moment together.

The photo booth can comfortably fit three people, the limits of capacity tested when half their team snuck in to try and get a group picture together. Buck laughed for a solid five minutes at the way Chimney’s face had been half cut off from where he was kneeling in front of everyone. Even as big as both of them are, there is plenty of space to sit comfortably like normal people. Eddie slides onto the seat first and Buck plops down next to him, a little wobbly from the champagne, but Eddie just laughs, hand coming up to catch him by the elbow. They sit hip to hip, a pleasant line of heat in the small space.

“What should we do?” Buck asks as his reflection blinks back at him on the photo screen.

“Smolder?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow.

Buck throws his head back as he laughs, a deep belly thing, “Okay,” he finally says, biting his lip as he looks at Eddie, “smolder it is.”

Eddie’s eyes darken for a moment, lips curling into a smirk and Buck nearly chokes on his next inhale. He doesn’t have time to think about how good Eddie looks in this moment; sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair tousled from his time on the dance floor, long lashes flutter over cheeks as he blinks, long and slow. Eddie leans forward and Buck trails his eyes over the toned muscle, suddenly afraid of exactly what the camera might catch and immortalize on film. Eddie presses the button and they have exactly seven seconds to get into position. Buck tears his gaze away, slightly raises his left eyebrow, tilting his chin and smolders as best he can.

Click

“Now away from the camera,” Eddie suggests.

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and looks up and off to the right, aloof and quite frankly really fucking hot. Buck licks his lips before he places his hand against his chin in mock thought, looking up to the left.

Click

“Back to back,” Buck says eagerly, already turning.

He catches Eddie’s grin as they both move, pressing their backs against each other. Eddie puts his hands together to make a James Bond esque finger gun. Buck quickly matches him, but he’s caught mid-smile while Eddie makes a serious face.

Click

“Okay,” Eddie says, eyes so beautifully brown and dark Buck is reminded of soil after it rains, and when he breathes he swears he can almost catch the sweet smell of petrichor, “maybe just a normal smiling one?”

Buck nods, a little unsure of what to do with his hands and arms and body when Eddie swings an arm over Buck’s shoulders, pulling him close. It’s automatic, really, for Buck to snake his around Eddie’s waist, the pads of his fingers pressing into skin where Eddie’s shirt has pulled up. He can see his blush, rosy pink and speckled across his face, and he ducks his head, smiling softly as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

Click

His head quickly snaps up realizing he hadn’t actually smiled at the camera, but he almost wishes he hadn’t looked at all. The screen is still frozen on their last picture; Buck looking down, blushing and bashful, and Eddie looking at him with the sweetest smile Buck has ever seen on his best friend.

Eddie is looking at him like he’s in love with Buck too.

“I um — I messed up the last picture,” Buck stutters out as a loading screen appears, letting them know their pictures are printing.

“Did you?” Eddie frowns as he looks towards the camera. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“One more round?” Buck asks hopefully, still intertwined around Eddie.

He doesn’t want to let go. He wants to hold onto Eddie for as long as he can. He wants to live in this moment and exist in this space where he and Eddie are the only thing that matters. Where Buck can pretend that their stars and planets have aligned in perfect orbit.

“Sure,” Eddie says, eyes twinkling with amusement.

They both lean forward, bumping into each other as they fumble to press the button. Eddie’s forehead hits Buck’s ear and they both kind of half collapse into each other laughing. Buck’s not even sure they’ve managed to start the camera at all. They’re more entangled now and so so close as they sit back up. Both of Buck’s hands are resting on Eddie’s waist, while one of Eddie’s hands lightly grips Buck’s neck. Their laughter quietly dies off as baby blue meets honey brown. Buck tilts his chin slightly up, gaze immediately falling to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s thumb dips beneath his sweater, sweeping over his skin soothingly.

Click

Buck watches as Eddie’s lips part and his heart beats so hard against his ribcage he’s pretty sure it’s fit to burst any second now just so it can bury itself in the one place it’s always belonged.

Before he can think to do anything else Eddie’s grip on him tightens for a brief moment and suddenly Eddie is kissing him. It’s a soft, sweet thing, their lips pressing together as their noses brush.

Click

Eddie pulls back almost just as quickly as he leaned in and Buck is left cold and aching. He hadn’t realized his eyes fluttered closed until he’s blinking them open, to find where Eddie has gone. Eddie is still in his space, they’re still breathing the same air, but there’s something wild and wanting in Eddie’s expression as he looks at Buck.

Click

Buck doesn’t hesitate as one of his hands moves to fist the front of Eddie’s shirt, pulling him into a bruising kiss. Their mouths slot together and Eddie cups his face, licking hot into Buck’s mouth, taking taking taking like a man starved for oxygen. Buck kisses him harder, deeper, tasting Eddie, memorizing Eddie, and letting Eddie do all those things in return.

Click

The flash of the camera startles both of them and they’re left looking at the last picture taken; Buck and Eddie kissing like the world is about to end.

“Eddie.” Buck breathes, turning towards his best friend, with wide wide eyes.

Eddie isn’t looking back. He’s still facing forward with disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips slightly parted. The glow from the screen softly illuminates his silhouette like he’s bathed in moonlight and Buck chokes down the needy sound that crawls up his throat. Buck knows there’s no stopping it now. As soon as Eddie’s lips were against his own he knew he would never want anyone else ever again. Something pops and fizzes in his blood, a spark fluttering to life in his very core. There’s an ache deep within his bones that craves more more more.

Eddie can be his.

Eddie can be his in every single way Buck’s ever imagined — ever hoped for. They can go home together and Buck can pull him close, memorize the shape of Eddie pressed into the mattress or wrapped around Buck early in the morning where the sleep-soft haze of the rising sun can warm them beneath the sheets of Eddie’s bed. They can cook breakfast together like they always do, but steal lazy kisses between sips of coffee or bites of bacon. They can have mornings, afternoons, evenings, and the rest of forever together because Buck is all in and now—

The sound of the pictures printing finally snaps Eddie out of his daze. He’s moving before Buck can blink, stumbling out of the booth in such a rush Buck distantly wonders if it suddenly caught fire. He follows Eddie, like a comet being pulled from orbit, his heart soaring so high he feels like he could fly.

Of course, he should have remembered the story of Icarus and the Sun.

Eddie is clutching two of the pictures in his hand with an unreadable expression that makes Buck wish the earth would open up and swallow him whole. Buck rocks back on his heels, mulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He wishes Eddie would just fucking look at him.

“Eddie,” Buck tries again, hesitantly reaching out, “hey, talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He watches Eddie’s eyes flutter close as he rasps out a quiet, “Buck.”

It sounds so hopeful and scared and heartbroken and aching that it makes Buck’s head spin. Eddie is so close and if Buck can just anchor both of them then they can figure this out. Maybe he can tug them back into the booth where it’s safe and he can cradle Eddie’s face in his hands, chase away all the fears and doubts because Buck knows there’s nothing they can’t do together.

Chimney’s voice cutting across all the other noise startles them both. Buck stumbles forward, his fingers clinging to air as Eddie snaps to attention, quickly folding the pictures in half and stuffing them in his pocket. Buck thinks he hears Chimney thanking everyone for coming and that they’re calling it a night. Buck can’t really wrap his head around the words though, because Eddie is half turned towards him muttering about needing to go.

“Wait,” Buck manages because everything is suddenly in slow motion, like he’s wading through honey, “Eddie, stop.”

But Eddie is already gone and Buck can’t tell if he’s left standing in a nightmare or not. He fumbles for the two prints still left in the deposit box. The first print is one of all of their silly photos. The smolder and James Bond and the smile that makes it look like Eddie is in love with him. He runs his thumb over the last photo, wondering where the fuck it all went wrong. He looks at the second print and he nearly drops them as his breath hitches in the back of his throat.

Their first kiss; tentative and soft, just a press of lips.

Their second kiss; hard and wanting and oh so desperate.

It’s real. It happened. And the proof of it is sitting right there in Buck’s palms.

And Eddie—

Eddie ran away.

Buck carefully slides them into the back pocket of his jeans and hastily wipes at his eyes before he moves to start helping Hen and Athena clean up.

They don’t talk about it.

Not really.

In fact, they don’t really talk at all.

When Buck gets back to his loft that night there’s a text message from Eddie waiting in his notifications. He ignores it for a while. He gets water from the fridge and tries to sit on his new couch and watch shitty late night reality television to forget that he was supposed to go over to Eddie’s after the party. He’s not quite sure if he dozes off or simply just dissociates for a while, but when he comes to it’s just past one in the morning. He presses his palms against his eyes as the dull throb of a headache creeps up the back of his neck.

He finally checks his phone.

Eddie: Hey, we don’t need to—

Eddie: We just got caught up in the moment, yeah?

Buck swallows before slowly sucking in his bottom lip, biting hard enough that the sharp tang of copper nearly startles him. He shifts on the couch, reaching into his pocket to pull out the photo booth pictures. He almost expects to see a different story in those eight frames. Just a couple of fun and silly pictures of two best friends who didn’t just upend their entire relationship in a matter of seconds. But it’s all right there. Captured in four flashes. Buck can still taste the fizzle of champagne, the tart bite of raspberry, and something so sweet and intoxicatingly Eddie.

But it was just a moment.

There and gone in a flash. Like a lightning strike.

Buck knows all about things like that.

It takes him a good while to find the courage to grab his phone and send Eddie a reply. Despite the tremors in his hands at least he isn’t crying.

Buck: yeah. just a moment. no worries eds

He throws his phone across the loft and falls into an uncomfortable sleep on a couch that he kind of, sort of, fucking hates.

He gets to work at least fifteen minutes early just to avoid running into Eddie in the locker room. It’s not his proudest moment, but he already has to spend the next twenty-four hours in close quarters with his best friend and try not to think about what happened just a few days ago. Buck can’t think about how Eddie’s mouth was soft and pliant, slotting perfectly against Buck’s. How desperate and hungry and aching the kiss was. How Eddie looked at him like he wanted Buck. He can’t think about how it feels like there’s this big, gaping hole in his chest ever since they agreed it didn’t mean anything. How his sternum feels cracked up, jagged pieces of bone skewing the soft flesh of his heart.

It’s fine. He’s fine.

He’ll get over it.

He doesn’t realize he’s filled two cups of coffee, one for himself and one inevitably meant for Eddie, until both mugs are held tightly in his hands. He looks down at his own cup, the brown swirled with cream that reminds him of the color of Eddie’s eyes. He swallows harshly and puts both mugs down before he spills hot liquid everywhere. Is he still allowed to make Eddie coffee? Should he? Friends get each other coffee all the time. There’s nothing wrong with knowing how Eddie takes his coffee. Them kissing and pretending it didn’t happen can’t change that.

Can it?

What if their fingers brush when Buck passes him the mug? What if Eddie thinks the mug is some sort of olive branch? Would it be weird or awkward? Buck white-knuckles the countertop wondering what the fuck he should do. A cup of coffee shouldn’t be causing him this much anxiety, but he feels like the lines of their friendship have completely blurred. What is their normal? What should be their normal?

The sound of Hen’s voice drifting up the stairs pulls him out of his dizzying spiral. He makes a decision, grabbing Hen’s favorite creamer and fixing the extra mug to her liking. She looks pleasantly surprised, if not a little suspicious, when he hands her the extra mug.

“Thanks, Buck.” she says, taking a whiff as if she thinks it won’t be to her liking, “I’m not used to the Eddie Diaz treatment.”

She gives him an amused smile and he tries to return it, but he’s pretty sure he only manages to pull off a grimace at best, a nervous laughter bubbling out of him. He silences it by taking a long and loud sip of his coffee effectively burning his tongue. Hen’s smile fades into a pointed look of concern, but Buck steps around her to take a seat at the table as Bobby places a plate of freshly made waffles down. Eddie, Chimney, and Ravi are coming up the stairs ten minutes later and Buck shoves the biggest piece of waffle into his mouth instead of greeting his friends. Hen’s brow only furrows deeper as she looks between him and where the rest of the boys are standing.

“Any coffee left?” Ravi asks hopefully as he stands on his tip-toes to look over Bobby’s shoulder.

“Buck just made a pot,” Bobby answers as he takes his seat at the table.

Buck can practically feel Eddie looking at him and — against his better judgment — he tilts his head up, catching Eddie’s gaze. Eddie looks, well, quite frankly he looks a little betrayed. Buck immediately darts his eyes to the mug in Hen’s hand and realizes it’s the one that Eddie always uses. The one with the little toad wearing a fireman’s hat.

Hen must sense the tension because she throws Eddie a teasing smirk, “Sorry, Eddie,” she says as she playfully nudges Buck with her elbow, “should have gotten here sooner if you wanted coffee service.”

Eddie blinks a little owlishly, his cheeks tinting pink before he gives Hen a sheepish smile. He ducks behind Chimney to grab his own mug and Buck lets out a quiet sigh. He squeezes Hen’s wrist in silent thanks and tries to ignore the way the coffee tastes like bile as he swallows it down. He and Eddie are fine. They are. They are. Or at least, they will be. They have to be. Buck can’t handle anything else. He can’t watch Eddie slip through his fingers again.

Eddie is spared having to choose his seat — the one next to Buck or the one furthest from him — when the bell rings.

Buck’s not sure which one would hurt more.

Despite whatever has settled between them they’re still partners out in the field. But, it feels slightly off kilter, like everything has been shifted to the left or the world’s tilted a degree on its axis. Eddie gives him the wrong tool. Buck’s fingers miss the hand off and it crashes to the ground. They’re constantly bumping into each other; wrong-footed and frustrating. Eddie snaps when Buck asks him to repeat a question. Buck accidentally elbows Eddie in the ribs when he pries a door off a dented car. It’s not enough to interfere with their job, but it does capture the rest of the team's attention and by the time they’re back in the engine on opposite sides Buck’s eyes burn with unshed tears as he keeps his gaze firmly set on a grease smudge on the window.

He immediately volunteers to help Hen organize the ambulance as Bobby hands out chores just to get away from Eddie’s piercing gaze. Chim looks slightly offended that Buck is taking his usual job, but he does not care as he nearly sprints down the stairs just so he can breathe. He doesn’t dare look at Eddie as he passes by. The look of betrayal from this morning already felt like a knife to the gut, no need to twist it further in. He lets Hen take charge, waving away her offer of holding onto the clipboard. He doesn’t want to think. He just wants to mindlessly work and give his hands something to do that isn’t shaking or curling into fists.

Hen waits all of ten minutes before she finally asks, “Okay,” her hands rest against her cocked hip, eyebrows raised, but eyes soft, “what’s going on with you and Eddie?”

Buck doesn’t stop what he’s doing. He carefully places packets of gauze in the proper drawer and mulls his bottom lip between his teeth. He could just lie. She’d probably see right through it, but it might be enough to let her know she needs to back off. But Buck doesn’t want to lie about this. He feels like the closer and tighter he keeps it to his chest the higher the chance it will detonate and cause irreparable damage. And there’s nothing wrong with what happened. He should be able to tell someone. Eddie is always his first choice for things like this, but, well, considering the thing itself is about Eddie and he and Eddie aren’t really speaking….

Hen is the next, safest option.

“Eddie and I kissed at the engagement party the other night.” He says just loud enough for her to hear.

That is clearly not what she is expecting him to say as her jaw goes slightly slack, eyes wide behind her glasses. She quickly shuffles into the ambulance and closes the door to give them as much privacy as they can have in a fire station.

“You and Eddie kissed?”

“More than once,” Buck says with a little sniff and a slight shrug to his shoulder, “and I thought, maybe, it meant we could, you know, be together.”

“What happened?” She asks, still a little in shock about the kissing revelation.

“Eddie kind of ran away,” Buck laughs hollowly, a sharp pain of a sound that makes his chest hurt, “and then, well, he—he said we just got caught up in a moment.”

Hen’s face shutters a touch, “And what did you say in return?”

“Well,” Buck says as he picks at a loose string on his knee, “I didn’t want to make things worse, so I agreed that it was just a stupid moment thing and not to worry about it.”

“Buck.” She sighs, exasperated.

“What was I supposed to do, Hen?” He throws his arms up, smacking his hand against the top of the ambulance. He curses and pulls his hand back down, examining the freshly scraped knuckles, streaks of red that will probably turn purple within an hour. “I can’t lose Eddie and he obviously wanted to forget about the whole thing.”

“Have you actually talked to him about it?” Hen asks a little too knowingly.

Buck throws her a look that easily answers the question.

“Maybe,” Hen says in that tone that Buck knows will make him regret all his life choices, “he’s just as afraid of messing something up as you are.”

“Yeah, well,” Buck huffs, “I wasn’t the one who ran away after we kissed.”

Hen rolls her eyes and Buck can tell she wants to call them both idiots, but is using all of her will power to refrain from doing so. Buck lets the corner of his mouth tug up in a slight grin, which quickly falls when she places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Talk to Eddie,” she says seriously, “or at the very least keep making his coffee because I think if I get caught drinking from his mug again it will be poisoned.”

Buck can’t stop the deep, belly laugh that leaves him this time.

“Fine,” Buck says, “I’ll think about talking to Eddie.”

“Well,” Hen says as she opens the ambulance doors, “think quickly Buckley, before the chance passes you by.”

Buck sharply inhales, heart plummeting in his stomach when he catches Eddie’s eye from where he’s standing against the railing in the loft. Eddie looks as miserable as he feels. Maybe Hen is right. Maybe Eddie is terrified of losing Buck like Buck is of losing him. Maybe if they have a real, sit down conversation they can figure it all out. Maybe he can have Eddie in all the ways he’s ever wanted. Maybe the pictures that are stuffed in the back of his junk drawer in the kitchen can live on his refrigerator.

He just needs to talk to Eddie. He will talk to Eddie. He’s survived tsunamis and earthquakes and lightning strikes. He can be brave about this. There isn’t anything they can’t face together.

He doesn’t tell Eddie they need to talk right away.

They’re still skirting around each other; Eddie hurt and confused that Buck is avoiding him and Buck quiet and nervous trying to figure out exactly what the hell he’s going to say to Eddie. He knows, he knows, how solid their foundation is and that they can weather any storm, but if Eddie really, truly just wants to stay friends then it might just be the thing that breaks Buck’s heart entirely.

If Abby was a thunderstorm then Eddie is a hurricane.

His thoughts are a mess. His brain is a hazy fog of half formed sentences and abandoned declarations that don’t sound right or can’t convey what Eddie means to Buck. He can’t stop thinking about Eddie letting him down gently. A sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, a hand on Buck’s arm meant to give a comforting squeeze. Buck is ready and willing to crack open his sternum and give his heart to Eddie with the very real possibility of Eddie carefully pushing it right back in. And what does Buck even say to that?

By the time they make it to dinner Buck’s got a pounding headache. He flees to the safety of the bunkroom soon after and tries to catch a few hours of sleep. He drifts in and out, the rustle of blankets and the creak of mattresses letting him know that everyone else is turning in over the course of the night.

He has the same dream every time he closes his eyes.

Eddie, standing in the distance, haloed in a golden light and Buck sprinting in the darkness trying to reach him. He never gets closer to Eddie, no matter how far or hard he runs. Eddie is always out of his reach. He takes deep, heaving breaths, hands on his knees and when he picks up his pace again he’s blinded by flashing lights. Like someone is taking his photo.

His phone tells him it’s well past two in the morning when he startles in his bunk. The last thing he remembers is the jarring sight of Eddie taking his photo with a painfully bright flash of light. His skin feels too tight, his heart a warm drum in his chest as he stumbles out of the bed. The room feels too small and he needs to get out out out. The bay is quiet and Buck wouldn’t be surprised if most people were asleep considering it’s been a slow evening. He pivots towards the stairs with the intent of digging out Bobby’s secret stash of ice cream when he hears Chimney and Eddie’s hushed voices floating over the balcony.

“...what did you tell your aunt this time?”

Buck freezes, white-knuckling the railing as he looks up at the top of the stairs. He knows he should probably just turn around and find some other place to hide until his friends retreat to bed, but he can’t move.

Eddie huffs and it sounds a little embarrassed. “I said I’d give her a chance.”

“Ah,” Chimney hums thoughtfully, “another date for Eddie Diaz then.”

Eddie mumbles something, but Buck can’t really make any of it out. The world is too busy spinning as a faint buzzing sound fills his ears. He sways a little, the pads of his fingers going numb. Something hot and awful snakes through him, like every nerve ending has been electrified, and he’s left hollow and bare. It reminds him of being struck by lightning.

Hen was wrong.

Buck doesn’t need to talk to Eddie.

All he needs to do is throw out those pictures of them in the photo booth and move on.

The sound of a locker door slamming startles Buck out of his daze. He’s just been staring at the pile of shirts stuffed in his locker as everyone moves around him, getting ready to leave for the day. Buck knows he’s probably made things worse since overhearing Eddie and Chim’s conversation. He’d been actively avoiding Eddie, but now he can’t even look Eddie in the eye. They’ve only been out on two more calls since the late night revelation, but being near Eddie feels like a physical ache that goes right down to Buck’s bones and he knows as soon as Eddie looks at him he’ll figure it all out.

He catches Eddie out of his peripheral, head down, chin dipped to his chest with such a look of hurt that Buck flinches. Chimney is looking at Eddie and he can feel Hen’s stare burning into him. Ravi’s eyes are ping-ponging back and forth between all of them like he’s trying to figure out what is going on. He watches Eddie steel himself, inhaling sharply through his nose before he turns and leaves through the glass doors without saying another word. Buck doesn’t miss everyone turning their gaze on him. He hikes up his shoulders and twists his mouth unpleasantly.

“What?” He asks a little defensively.

This isn’t his fault.

Chimney just raises his hands in a surrendering motion. “I’m not getting involved,” he says with a snap of his gum.

“I don’t even know what’s going on.” Ravi adds, which sounds like half of a lie.

He’s forced to look at Hen and the disappointment on her face makes him want to sink into the core of the earth where he’ll cease to exist. He could tell her that it’s too late. That talking to Eddie won’t fucking matter anymore. It will just be Buck flaying himself open for Eddie to finally see a truth neither of them want to face. But he doesn’t say any of that. He just shakes his head and bites back his own cowardice. Hen looks away, throwing her bag over her shoulder and follows Chimney and Ravi out of the locker room, leaving Buck alone.

Buck bangs his fist against a locker, the same hand that he hurt earlier that evening when he was with Hen in the ambulance. The sting is a grounding feeling, pain pulsating through his knuckles. He lets his forehead press against the cool metal and catches the strip of photos he and Eddie took at May’s graduation.

He closes the door and makes a decision. He sprints past his teammates and catches the sight of Eddie in the distance, climbing into his truck. He nearly slams into the hood and while almost every instinct is screaming at him to turn around and run, something stronger keeps him planted right where he is.

“Don’t go on that date.” He says breathlessly.

Eddie’s jaw drops as his hold on the door handle tightens. “I — Buck — what?”

“Eddie,” Buck says, stepping closer, hand reaching out but not touching, “don’t go on that date with whoever your aunt set you up with.”

“Why?” Eddie’s face hardens.

His entire body is tense, brown eyes dark and guarded. But Buck knows him. He can read Eddie Diaz better than anyone.

You haven’t been able to look at me all day. Why is it so important now?

“It— it wasn’t just a moment for me,” Buck says as he swallows down all of his fears. “When we kissed,” he pulls his bottom lip in for a moment, dragging his teeth against the chapped skin, “that wasn’t just me being caught up in the moment.”

“Buck…” Eddie says, something soft and devastating passing over his features.

“I—I keep looking at those photos, Eds,” Buck takes another half step forward, still not touching, “just to make sure it was real. Because I want it to be real.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but Buck hears the quiet sound of his breath hitching.

“So, don’t go on that date.” Buck says with a breath of a laugh as he tries to smile, but he can feel the hot prick of tears in the corner of his eyes. “Come over to my place where we can make dinner and drink leftover champagne from the party. We can dance in my kitchen and make out on the counter or just nap together in bed.”

Eddie just looks at Buck, a mix of fear and something that dangerously looks like hope in those beautiful brown eyes. Buck finally gives in to the pull of gravity and takes Eddie’s hand, swiping his fingers over sun-warm skin.

“You know where to find me,” Buck murmurs before he lets Eddie go.

He gives Eddie one last, brave look before he turns and heads to his Jeep.

The loft feels bigger than usual.

Emptier.

Buck sits at the kitchen island half coloring a picture he and Jee were working on last time she was over. The photos of him and Eddie from the party sit just in front of the mess of crayons, haloed in colors of hot pink and forest green. Every now and then his eyes flick up to the photos, gaze lingering over the way their lips met in that first delicate kiss.

It’s been a few hours since their shift ended and the radio silence from Eddie feels like it’s growing steadily louder and louder. He’s debated texting Eddie and letting him off the hook. He’s also thought about packing only the necessaries up in his Jeep and running away for a good month or two. Maybe just until Eddie forgets that Buck is irrevocably in love with him and Buck learns to deal with never having Eddie in all the ways he’s ever wanted.

It’d be easy, Buck thinks, just take the time off for himself. Bobby would understand and he knows his place at the 118 is secure. He could drive up the coast or maybe hit up the National Parks in the west he missed on his cross country adventure the first time around. He could send postcards to Maddie and Chris and facetime with Hen. He could collect stickers for Ravi’s water bottle and take a rock from each place for Chimney which would make him laugh at how silly it is. He could be on his own like he was at nineteen except older and wiser and growing more comfortable with himself and his place in the world. He can learn to let Eddie go even if it’s never entirely — because Buck will always always love Eddie in all the ways a person can love someone. But he doesn’t want to lose Eddie, doesn’t think he could survive that, so Buck will do whatever it takes even if it hurts for the rest of his life.

He reaches for the photos and holds them carefully between his fingers. If he wants to get over Eddie he should start with these. Something hot coils around his lungs and it hurts to take a full breath, but he can’t do this anymore. He’s on his feet and heading towards the front door. He doesn’t want them in the apartment, knows the temptation of digging them out of the trash will be too great. It’s probably cliched and overdramatic, but that’s the Buckley way and he knows the perfect place he can rip them into tiny pieces and toss them down a flowing river (he’ll make a donation to an earth friendly organization later).

He’s yanking the door open, eyes still looking down at the photos when he walks right into Eddie. He nearly drops the photos and a pair of big, warm hands wrap around his waist to steady him. He blinks a few times, clutching the photos to his chest as he takes in the sight of his best friend. Those big beautiful brown eyes are locked onto Buck, a little wide and scared.

“Eddie hey—”

“It wasn’t just a moment for me either,” Eddie says and Buck finally notices Eddie’s own set of photos crushed in Eddie’s hand where he’s holding Buck at the waist.

Buck barely gets Eddie’s name out before the man is kissing him. It’s slow and sweet like they have the rest of their lives to kiss like this. Buck melts into Eddie, cupping his face as they take a few steps back into the loft, the door slamming close behind them. Buck groans and Eddie swallows the noise, licking hot into Buck’s mouth like Buck is everything he needs to live and breathe. They hit the counter, but only wrap around each other even more, kissing harder and deeper, the loft blazing with the heat kindling between them.

“Wait,” Buck says as he regretfully breaks away. Eddie whines, trying to chase him, but Buck just ducks his head to catch Eddie’s eye. “Eddie, you ran away from me.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so hurt, but he thinks he deserves an explanation. He was ready to hightail it across the country just to try and get over Eddie and salvage whatever was left of their relationship.

Eddie’s face shutters, his fingers pressing into the soft skin at Buck’s hip. “I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, “I got scared.”

“Eddie,” Buck gently tilts his chin up so that honey brown meets baby blue, “what are you afraid of?”

It feels like an echo of the past. When Eddie was sitting across from him at a dining table, wrecked and ruined and trying to climb his way out of the darkness. When Buck broke down his bedroom door and maybe a few other things just to reach out his hand and pull Eddie to safety.

“You died,” Eddie says, gutted, “and that three minutes and seventeen seconds where I thought I lost you was one of the worst moments of my life.”

And Buck knows that feeling all too well. Eddie bleeding out and fading beneath the palm of his hands. How he clung to Taylor in the aftermath because it was safer to be with someone that hasn’t brushed so close to death’s door.

“Eds,” Buck hums as he threads his fingers through Eddie’s, bringing up their joined heads so they’re right over Buck’s beating heart, “I know I can’t make any promises, but I’m here, right now in this moment.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers, “and I’m here with you.”

“Then that’s all we need.” Buck grins before he kisses Eddie again.

They take their time, trading long and slow kisses, too busy smiling to really do more as they brush their noses together.

“So,” Eddie says against Buck’s lips, “how about that dinner and champagne.”

“Sounds perfect.” Buck says before he leans in and captures Eddie’s mouth in a dirty kiss.

He slides his phone from his pocket and quickly snaps a photo (even though it’s probably off center and the completely wrong angle). Eddie laughs, breaking away from Buck as he gives him an amused look.

“Did you just take a picture of us kissing?” He asks, but his eyes are sparkling and he’s beautiful and Buck loves him.

“It’s tradition.” Buck shrugs, but he laughs as Eddie plucks the phone from his hand and pulls him onto another sweet kiss that kind of sort of tastes like forever.