Archive of Our Own

Coming to terms with being bisexual and being in love with his best friend is not how Buck expected to spend the month or so leading up to his sister’s wedding. But then again, life has shown time and time again that he has been put on this planet to suffer.

The worst part? He hasn’t told anyone about the whole monumental feelings realization. Maddie is so caught up in last minute preparations for the wedding, he can’t put that burden on her. Chimney cannot be trusted not to reveal a secret of this magnitude. Hen would be entirely too smug. He’d probably drive Bobby into early retirement if he were to speak a word about having deep romantic feelings for his coworker.

After searching and researching and spending copious amount of time on Reddit and Tumblr, Buck had found that bisexual felt like a label that fit his feelings. He would practice it before his mirror in the morning, say I’m bisexual, and it felt mostly right the first time around. And while the label seemed comforting, he’d also read on the stereotypes associated with it. Confused. A slut. A phase before turning gay. All something he’d struggled with accepting about himself before. But he’s learned over time that he is none of these things. Liking people of any gender doesn’t make him confused. Enjoying sex doesn’t make him a slut. Sexuality is not a phase.

So, yeah. He’s bisexual. And he tells it to the team after about seven mornings of saying it to his own face in the mirror.

“There’s something I’ve discovered about myself recently that I feel ready to tell you all about now.” He waits until everyone at the breakfast table spares him a glance and swallows before carrying on. “It might come off as a surprise to some and I’m okay to answer some questions if anyone has them but— I’m bisexual.”

There’s only a beat of silence. A simple beat. Buck considers taking off anyway.

But then—

“That’s cool, Buck,” says Ravi, having stopped chewing.

Barnett. “Yeah. Proud of you, man.”

Johnson. “I thought we already knew that?”

Barnett smacks the back of his head. “Dude, shut up. You’re not supposed to say that when someone comes out.”

“Oh, sorry. Congrats on figuring it out?”

Buck tunes it all out to focus on the faces that matter the most to him. Hen, Chimney and Bobby, all wearing similar expressions of undeniable affection. He notices that Bobby’s a little bit surprised, but Buck can’t blame him. He expectantly waits until one of them speaks up.

Of course, it’s Chimney.

“So, that’s what Maddie’s been keeping from me!” he exclaims. “I knew there was something. I thought she might’ve canceled the arrangements I made to hire a pony for Jee to play with at the wedding without telling me.”

“Oh, we did cancel that behind your back, Chim,” says Hen. “It was ridiculous. A pony at a glamorous wedding is just unsanitary.”

“But—”

“Anyway,” Hen sternly cuts him off. Her expression quickly softens when she turns to face Buck. “I’m very happy for you for realizing that. Is there anything we can do to support you in this?”

“Yeah, man,” adds Chim. “Like, we could all go to Pride together in June! The whole one-eighteen. Paint the fire truck with— Wait, what are the colors of the bisexual flag again?”

“I honestly don’t know,” admits Buck.

“We’ll find out,” he promises. “But until then, we’re here for you.”

“Thank you both,” says Buck earnestly, trying his hardest to keep the tears that are trying to escape his eyes at bay. He can’t afford to cry in front of the entire one-eighteen right now. But then he takes another look at Bobby and— He might as well.

Because the way Bobby is gazing at him, with a revelation in his eyes but so much pride, not as a Captain, not as a friend, but nearly a father… Yeah, there come the waterworks.

“Thank you for telling us, Buck,” he says. “Are you happier now that you know?”

Buck startles at that. In all the coming out stories he’d consumed over the past weeks, he hadn’t come across anyone being asked that. 

“I guess I am,” he decides after a beat. “It’s like a weight that’s been pulling me under all my life has lifted and I can see things a lot more clearly now. Friendships with men I’ve had in the past make a lot more sense now that I’m aware I probably had a crush on them. It’s a little embarrassing I didn’t know then, though, I have to admit.”

It’s the briefest of moments. Buck wouldn’t have noticed, had his gaze not trailed to Hen in that second. But he does see it — Hen discreetly looking between Buck and Eddie after his admission. Goddamnit, Hen. Why does she always have to be so observant?

And then he realizes that everyone is, in fact, looking at Eddie. Eddie, munching on a breakfast bagel, seemingly not very present in their conversation. The looks quickly turn into glares until Hen pokes him in the shoulder.

“What?” asks Eddie, his mouth full, looking distractedly between the four of them.

“Well?” prods Hen. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”

Eddie tilts his head in confusion. Hen desperately motions to Buck.

“Oh. Buck told me weeks ago.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Weeks?”

“He is my best friend,” points out Buck.

“Yeah, I get front row at coming out,” says Eddie, smirking. “Obviously I’m proud of Buck and all that. Goes without saying.”

Sue him if Buck’s insides melt at that.

The conversation ends there. He guesses that’s that. Buck’s bisexual and they can get back to breakfast now. But then—

“Get up, Buck,” says Chim beside him.

Buck blinks. “Uh, why?”

“Just do it.”

Not really certain what he’s getting into, especially because it’s Chim of all people, he awkwardly stands up. And then, so does Chim. Then Hen. And then one, two bodies are crashing into him and enveloping him in tight, squeezing embraces, knocking the breath out of his lungs. More feet shuffle until Buck’s nearly certain the entire team is trying to suffocate him in hugs. A pretty nice way to suffocate, to be honest.

“Okay, that’s enough, don’t kill the guy,” calls out Bobby’s voice. Buck’s not really sure if it’s from within the hugging circle or outside it. Arms and bodies separate from Buck and he can breathe again, but it’s still a struggle. He’s never felt so overwhelmed and overjoyed in his life.

They all take their seats again and Buck’s probably rocking the goofiest grin in the world. He is happier. He gets to have this now. The support of his team in this new journey of self discovery. He has his family to count on, even when it comes to his sexuality.

Buck meets Bobby’s gaze across the table and sees, we’ll talk later. He already knows the faucet will break out, but he’s ready.

As he comes in for the next shift a few days later, Buck finds Eddie knocking the shit out of a punching bag first thing in the morning. He can smell trouble from a mile away, so he quickly changes into his uniform and heads over to the station’s gym.

Carefully, Buck places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, just as he’s about to hit the poor thing again. Eddie pauses, startled, and throws his head back to see who’s interrupted him. His angry expression softens after only a moment of recognition kicking in.

“What’s wrong?” Buck prods.

Eddie wipes at his mouth, discarding the boxing gloves.

“I broke up with Marisol.”

Woah, what? Has Christmas come early or something?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says instead, because obviously they are merely best friends and Buck can’t reveal himself like that. “Are you okay?”

“Okay?” he echoes, scoffing. “Yeah, I’m okay. Good fucking riddance.”

Eddie’s a bit of a foul mouth, but he doesn’t usually swear at the station, as it would break Bobby’s integrated terms and conditions of the place. So, naturally, Buck worries.

“Okay, that sounds serious. What happened?”

Eddie hesitates, but only for a breath. 

“I told her about you coming out to the team, how heartfelt it all went down, right?” he presses. “And she completely freaked out.”

“Freaked out how?”

“She was—” There’s fire in his eyes. “Turns out, she’s a bigot.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So, good riddance.”

“I’m not that sorry anymore,” admits Buck. “But that sucks, Eddie.”

“I can’t believe I ever dated her. I’m so… Disgusted?” He does indeed look nauseated.

“I bet,” chimes in Buck, noncommittal. 

But Eddie keeps raging on, uncharacteristically winded. “Seriously, what century does she think she’s living in? To think she spent all that time at my house, with Christopher, who knows what kind of things she could’ve told him while she was watching him, dear mother of—!”

“Okay, calm down. You’re getting a bit worked up.”

“But Buck—”

“Look, I appreciate you standing up for me, right?” he says, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, brushing his thumb against the collarbone revealed by his tank top. It’s a thing Eddie does for Buck when reassuring him. It usually works on Buck, and it seems to have a similar effect on Eddie. “Thanks for that. But she’s in the past now, isn’t she? No need to stress about her anymore.”

Eddie deflates, defeated.

“I just feel like an idiot. When am I going to get this dating thing right and find the right person?”

“Maybe follow your own advice? Don’t date people you’ve rescued,” teases Buck.

Eddie laughs. “What, do your new thing now? Date other firefighters?”

Well, Buck wouldn’t be opposed to that, if the firefighter in question was himself.

And then Eddie surprises him further.

“We should go out,” he spits out.

Buck blinks. Is he—? Is he asking him out on a—? What?

“To a queer bar or something,” he clarifies. “Get you out in the scene.”

Well, that is simultaneously more and less confusing.

“I don’t— I’m not really looking to be picked up right now,” says Buck. Not when he is seriously gone for the guy standing before him. 

“Come on,” prods Eddie, poking his shoulder. “I’ll be your wingman.”

Wing— Who is this guy and what the hell did he do to Eddie?

“Why do you want to go to a queer bar with me?” asks Buck.

Eddie lets out a sigh. “I just want to support you in this. You assumed I’d feel weird about you coming out, and I really don't. I want to get it through your thick skull that nothing has changed about the way I view you. So, why not go to a queer bar and have some fun?”

It’s lovely, of course. Buck appreciates the support. But it also icks him, because it's further proof that he doesn't and will never have a chance with Eddie. Eddie’s an ally. Eddie wants to be his wingman. Eddie doesn't want to date Buck.

He really can't blame Eddie for being straight. He’s read the stories. Most people figure out they're bisexual after falling in love with their same-sex best friend. Of course Buck had to be the textbook definition. Of course…

“Sure,” he ends up saying, despite every single one of his thoughts saying it's a horrible, masochistic idea. Get Eddie all dressed up and go out to a bar with him? It'll probably send him into another cardiac arrest.

“Great!” exclaims Eddie, in a booming, exaggerated tone. “Next night we're off then.”

“Next night we're off,” agrees Buck.

Next night they’re off happens to come sooner than Buck expects. He finds himself rummaging through his closet for an outfit that could give off a pretense that he’s completely calm and collected about going to a queer bar, and not scared shitless of being perceived as queer out in public for the first time.

It’s not that men haven’t hit on Buck before. A plenty of them have on calls, at bars, on his journey across the Americas… But he’d always laughed it off, apologized for them getting the wrong idea about where his interests lie, and walked away. He wonders if he’d realized he’s bisexual sooner if he’d ever given at least one of them a chance.

When Eddie knocks on his door to pick him up, Buck is dressed in a maroon dress shirt, leaving the top three buttons open to reveal some of his chest, because well, he has to at least pretend in front of Eddie that he’s trying to entice people tonight.

He opens the door to a sight of a man who looks absolutely ridiculously attractive in his navy-colored Henley and jeans hugging his thighs and ass in a way that could probably only be witnessed in underground European gay porn. Once again, Buck is a masochist for agreeing to this. He’s in for a long night.

Eddie gives him a once-over before clearing his throat and meeting his eyes, “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” answers Buck, stepping out and locking up his apartment. As they make their way to the elevator, he asks, “Where are you taking me?”

Eddie presses the button and smirks, “You’ll see. Hen recommended it to me.”

Buck pales. He’s aware of Hen’s ideas of a good bar — they are quite extravagant, and he isn’t sure he’s ready for that. Still, he braces himself and they step into the elevator.

What’s the worst that could happen?

“I thought we were going to a bar? What, did you forget to do your laundry?”

Beside Buck, Eddie snickers. They have parked across the road from a laundromat, and Eddie is nudging his best friend towards it. Because it’s Eddie, Buck mindlessly follows him into the fluorescent-lit, tight space, absolutely void of people and no washing machines running.

Buck watches as Eddie approaches one of the laundry machines in the length of the ceiling and, with a smirk thrown behind his shoulder, pushes the handle of the machine down until it clicks. Instead of the glass door of the machine opening, the entire wall shifts and—

A neon-lit hallway is revealed behind the opening in the wall. He hears the distant thud of music. Buck’s mouth hangs open.

“What is this?” he asks, nothing really clicking in his brain yet.

Eddie grins. “A speak-easy.”

All Buck can do is nod and follow into the hallway after Eddie, taking in the neons of a rainbow as they squeeze through to a heavy metallic door. The music is a bit louder here, more distinguishable. Without much preamble, Eddie pulls the door open.

From the complete quiet and lack of people in the laundromat, Buck had expected the bar to be empty. Instead, he finds himself in a roomful of thudding energy as bargoers dance and laugh and tickle each other with anecdotes. Nearly every table and seat is taken by people with wide, drunken grins on their faces. It looks like a regular bar, the same kind Buck usually frequents, except for the few signs here and there — some pride accessories and a full-length picture wall on top of which a golden sign spells out, WE GET TO BE US BECAUSE OF THEM.

“This was one of the first queer speak-easy’s in Los Angeles,” explains Eddie. “During the American queer revolution, people would go here to party under the wraps. The way we got in? They’ve kept it since then. Hen told me the interior is the same as well.”

“This is so cool,” breathes out Buck, taking his surroundings in.

Eddie nods in agreement. “There’s a wall of pictures of all the great queer protestants and artists of the last century, with their signatures on them. Wanna take a look before we order?”

Obviously, Buck is more than eager to do it. They approach the wall, and Buck spends a good few minutes inspecting every picture, every quote left behind by the person in it. Guilt pools in his stomach at the thought that he doesn’t recognize any of these names, has never bothered to do his research and learn them. He unpockets his phone and snaps a few pictures to investigate them when he gets home. Better late than never.

“I’ll go find us a table,” says Eddie. “Can you get us drinks?”

“Yeah, will do,” answers Buck, still a little in awe at the contents on the wall. He watches as Eddie skips away and lingers by the wall for another moment before heading over to the bar.

From movies, he expects the bartenders of a queer bar to be thirty-something muscular, tanktop-wearing dudes with legs for miles. Instead, as he approaches the bar, he finds a short, delicate person with a buzzcut and lineart tattoos covering their arms and neck.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks. Buck notices that they have a little pin to their chest that says, my pronouns are they/them.

“Uh, two Buds for a start?” he says awkwardly. He hasn’t had the time to come up with an order. “And I’m kinda hungry so maybe throw in a pack of those BBQ chips.”

“Two Buds incoming,” they answer and disappear to the fridge, but not before slamming the pack of chips on the bar in front of Buck. He looks down at the pack, ready to take it, when something else steals his attention. A box of differently colored pins and badges, some of them like the one the bartender’s wearing with pronouns on them, some just little squares with color combinations Buck vaguely recognizes from all his recent internet deepdives.

A pink, blue and purple pin sticks out to him. With careful fingers, he picks it up and takes a good look.

“They’re free.”

Buck looks up and finds the bartender standing with the two beers in their hands, watching him.

“Uh,” he stutters. “That’s cool. I guess I’ll take this one.” He kind of glitches, has half a mind to just pocket the small pin and another to attach it to his dress shirt. In the end, he settles for the latter, his fingers trembling all the way until it’s safely clasped.

“It’s, uh,” he struggles. “It’s new.”

“It suits you,” says the bartender, smiling at him a little. Somehow, they don’t look like the kind of person who smiles a lot. “This is a great place to meet people. Maybe you and your boyfriend could make some friends here.”

Buck and his what? The confusion must show on his face, because the bartender motions behind him, their grin spreading. Buck follows their gaze and finds Eddie at a nearby table, watching him impatiently, his eyes asking, what’s taking so long?

“He’s— He’s not my boyfriend,” explains Buck, growing a little red.

The bartender tilts their head slightly. “The guy staring at you like there’s a rainbow coming out of your ass is not your boyfriend?”

“No, just my best friend,” comes out kind of bitterly.

“Oh,” they say, with a knowing tone about it. God, Buck really is obvious. “Sorry, man. For what it’s worth, it’s a good sign he’s joined you in coming to a queer bar.”

“It was his idea,” he admits. “He’s trying really hard to be supportive.”

“But you don’t want him to be?”

“It’s just a painful reminder that it’s all I’m going to get. Woah, Buck, it’s so great that you’re bisexual but I’m not interested in you at all, and I’m going to make sure you remember that every single day,” he pitches his voice as though to imitate something Eddie’s never even said. He winces. “God, I sound like an asshole. He doesn’t owe anything to me. But it stings, you know? I spent all my life searching for the right person just to discover that they are someone I can’t have.”

“The queer curse — falling for our straight friends. It’ll pass.” Buck seriously doubts it. “In the meantime, I promise there are a lot of people here who would love your attention.”

They give him a wink and Buck blushes ever further.

“Well, thanks for the beers and, uh, conversation,” he says, taking them off their hands. “See you later.”

The moment Buck claims his seat in the booth beside Eddie, a safe distance away because he’s not that greedy, Eddie grabs the bottle of beer out of his hand and takes a long swig. In the meantime, Buck rips open the bag of chips and starts feasting.

“You were gone a while,” he says after, a strange tinge to his voice. “Saw anyone you like?”

No, the only guy I like was sitting right here and I didn’t dare look.

“The night is young,” he says instead. “Besides, why can’t we just have a few beers, the two of us? I was serious when I said I’m not looking to be picked up right now.” Unless the person that wants to pick him up by any chance goes by the name Eddie Diaz.

He hums. “That bartender was undressing you with their eyes.”

“Were they?”

“Talk about being professional,” Eddie scoffs. Buck tilts his head in confusion. “They’re at work. You’re not supposed to flirt with your customers.”

“They weren’t flirting with me,” says Buck.

“Then what were you two talking about?”

“Just the fact that I’m new at this whole queer thing. Oh!” He remembers. “And I got this pin.” He points to his chest, a little bashful about it. Eddie spends a longer than necessary moment staring at his chest.

“Cute,” he mutters.

They sip their beers in an oddly tense silence for a few minutes, Buck deciding to people-watch instead of trying to figure out why the hell Eddie is acting so weird. His eyes accidentally meet the pair of a boomingly tall man across the bar, who quirks his eyebrow at him, as though considering something.

A few moments later, the man is at their table, hovering over Buck and Eddie.

“You guys care for a dance?” the stranger asks, looking between them. Buck’s heart is beating wildly behind his ribs. He’s so focused on the fact that this guy has asked him for a dance than he doesn’t even realize—

“Oh, I’m not— I’m just here to support my best friend,” says Eddie, paling. “But you two can go ahead. Buck’s a great catch!” He adds, a little bit forced. Buck winces. The tall man looks at him expectantly.

“Actually, I’m—” starts Buck, but he doesn’t manage to finish his sentence, because there is suddenly a big uproar from the dance floor. People are shouting, and not in a fun way. No one’s favorite song has come on.

“Is there a doctor here?”

“Hey, someone call 911!”

“I don’t know what to do, she just passed out!”

Buck and Eddie jump up from their seats, rushing over to the spot where several bar-goers have circled someone on the ground, throwing panicked looks at each other.

“Please make way. We’re firefighters,” announces Buck. The crowd dissipates and he sees a twenty-something girl splayed out on the floor, completely out of it. Eddie crouches down to assess her, while Buck questions the girl with the most panicked look on her face.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, we were just dancing and talking, and then her words started slurring, and next thing I know, she’s collapsed on the ground,” she explains. “She only had, like, two drinks!”

“She’s diabetic,” announces Eddie. He points down to her upper arm, which Buck recognizes has one of those blood-sugar-measuring sensors attached to it. “Someone go find her bag and see if she has an emergency GlucaGen kit. Did anyone call 911 yet?”

“I’m on the phone with them right now, trying to figure out how to explain the location,” says one guy.

“We can carry her outside,” says Buck. “Doesn’t seem like she broke anything when she fainted.”

“I found her bag!” says another girl, showing up again from where she’d run to a table. Buck takes it off her hands and passes it to Eddie. Eddie makes quick work of rummaging through the purse until he finds an orange container. Buck watches in awe as Eddie assembles the injection and stabs the diabetic girl’s thigh.

The crowd holds their breaths for several moments until the girl starts gaining consciousness, blinking slowly until her eyes meet Eddie’s, hovering over her.

“What happened?” she croaks out.

“You had a severe hypoglycemic episode and you passed out,” explains Eddie. “Your head okay?”

“I’m— I feel dizzy.”

“I’ll let them know to check your head at the hospital,” says Eddie. “Can I help you stand up so we can get out of here to the paramedics?”

The girl nods and Eddie helps her up. Buck takes her other side to help steady her.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she says. “I’m always so responsible about drinking because, you know. But I skipped dinner and kind of forgot about the side effects of alcohol on your blood sugar. I’m so stupid.”

“Not stupid. Happens to the best of us,” says Eddie. They’re almost at the metal door. “What’s your name?”

“Fiona. Who are you guys?” she looks between them, her face scrunched in confusion.

“I’m Eddie, this is Buck. My partner,” he adds.

“Partner?”

“We’re firefighters,” clarifies Buck.

“O-oh,” drawls out Fiona. “I didn’t know firefighters were allowed to date each other.”

Buck’s entire face turns twenty degrees hotter. Eddie just chuckles.

They make their way into the laundromat, and Buck sees that the paramedics are already waiting outside. Buck and Eddie support Fiona all the way towards them, until they take her off their hands. Eddie quickly fills them in on the situation, and they look seriously relieved from hearing that she’s already been administered GlucaGen. They watch as she’s taken into an ambulance and they drive away.

“Well,” breathes out Buck. “I’m not in the mood for any more drinks, to be honest.”

“Yeah, me neither,” agrees Eddie, pocketing his hands from the night breeze. “Let’s pay and head home?”

“Let’s.”

It’s only when they’re back in Eddie’s car and crossed half of Los Angeles to get to Buck’s loft that he speaks.

“You were pretty amazing back there,” he says. “Might’ve saved a girl’s life.”

“It’s what we do,” answers Eddie, his hands tightly clutching the steering wheel.

“Yeah, but you’re like— You’re a natural at it,” explains Buck. “Since the first day I worked with you, I’ve admired the way you handle emergencies. You truly care about each patient. You act quickly yet carefully. You never miss anything. You’re a really good firefighter.”

“So are you.”

“Not nearly as good as you,” says Buck, winking at him. Eddie ducks his head in a shy manner that isn’t very in character of him. The Eddie Buck knows and loves is not a shy guy. Eddie is confidence impersonified. He kind of reels at the fact that he gets to see this side of him, when no one else is present.

He wonders just how many sides of Eddie he’s seen that no one else has been privy to.

After their failed attempt at checking out a queer bar, Buck expects that Eddie will calm down and stop trying to keep up the over-the-top supportive best friend act. Turns out, it only gets worse from there on out.

Because suddenly their Friday movie nights turn into marathons of the best queer cinema and television. Suddenly, Eddie is recommending him all those podcasts and music by queer artists. Suddenly, the only topic of conversation in the downtime at work seems to be about which male celebrities Buck is recently obsessed with.

And, look. Of course it’s nice that Eddie isn’t simply ignoring this new facet to Buck’s identity. But it can get a bit too much when he isn’t really looking to make everything about his life a goddamn queer tragedy. It makes him feel like Eddie is overcompensating for his initial reaction of finding out about Buck and Tommy, how he’d kind of found the idea of them dating too ridiculous to be true. Buck’s well past it. Eddie isn’t.

He brings it up on one of those Friday movie nights, not able to keep his quiet anymore.

“Hey, man,” is how he starts, cringing at the way he’s calling probably the love of his life man. “You know we don’t have to watch queer movies just because I’m bisexual, right?”

Beside him, a bowl of popcorn in his lap, Eddie deflates.

“Oh,” he breathes out. “I just thought— I wanted to be supportive.”

“I get that,” says Buck. “But I’m okay with watching any movie. To be honest, what we’ve been watching lately isn’t very feel-good. I don’t really want to indulge in all these potential outcomes of me dating a man taking such a depressing turn. I mean, Moonlight? That one was a tearjerker.”

“Okay, so what do you want to watch instead?” asks Eddie.

“Let’s just watch what we used to watch,” suggests Buck. “Something painfully ridiculous and downright cringeworthy? I have a few romcoms in mind.”

“Take your pick,” he says, passing the remote over to Buck to scroll though Netflix. Buck happily takes it, navigating past the Drama section and onto Feel-Good. He ends up selecting The Devil Wears Prada. Hasn’t seen it in ages.

They sink farther into Eddie’s couch, Buck occasionally stealing popcorn out of Eddie’s lap as they watch the movie. It’s so much less tense now, now that Buck isn’t overthinking every queer kiss he sees on the screen and daydreaming about kissing Eddie. It’s been a torture these past few weeks. Watching these movies with Eddie, gulping when characters on screen do something he wishes he could do with Eddie. It’s a breath of relief to indulge in a strictly heterosexual movie, to be honest. At least his mind is no longer wandering into such dangerous territories.

“I’m sorry if I’m acting weird,” says Eddie all of a sudden, halfway into the movie. “I’ve never— I guess it’s waters I haven’t tested yet, having my best friend be queer. I want to make you feel like you can explore this side of you with me, and that it doesn’t change a thing that I’m— Not queer.” His voice shivers over not.

Buck swallows thickly. “It’s fine, Eddie. I’m not upset.”

“I want you to be happy,” he exhales. “Whoever it’s with. At the end of the day, my only wish is that you find your person and you’re happy. And I thought, if I exposed you to all these scenarios, that you would feel less guilty about it. Because I know you do. I can see it on your face that you feel so guilty about not realizing this sooner, like you’ve missed out on opportunities you could’ve had. And it’s just— I want you to find someone. I want you to thrive. I want you to realize that you deserve a happy ending.”

Buck kind of wants to break down crying. Because, yeah, Eddie wants him to be happy. But what he doesn’t realize is that his only true happy ending lies with him.

“I don’t know what my future looks like,” he says. “But I really do hope I figure it out. And that so do you.”

“After Marisol, I’m not sure I feel ready to get back out there,” admits Eddie. “My world has been rocked and I’m going over my past relationships, trying to find where they went wrong. At its core, it feels like the same thing has been wrong with all of them.”

“And the thing is?” prods Buck.

Eddie exhales a breath. “They weren’t going to be happy endings when they were hardly happy beginnings.”

Buck sits with that for the rest of the night.

On the week of Maddie and Chimney’s wedding, the atmosphere at the station is thrumming with excitement. Chimney and Hen look like they haven’t slept in years, taking occasional naps but mostly going over severely thick wedding binders and calling every vendor in LA to check on the state of things. Buck’s kind of jealous, since Maddie had sat him down all those months ago and said, you are not going anywhere near any binders or clipboards, as per my fiance’s instructions. As Maddie’s Man of Honor, Buck hasn’t been involved in the wedding planning nearly as much as he’d like to be.

When Friday finally rolls around, the entire one-eighteen’s A-shift being scheduled for a long weekend off — a rare four days — Buck’s blood is practically boiling with just how much more involved he wants to be. For one, it isn’t until he shows up at the location Hen shared on the Bachelor party group chat, that he finds out their plans for the celebrations.

“A haunted house?” he asks to no one in particular. “Why the hell are we going to a haunted house for Chim’s Bachelor party? It’s May.”

“Chim’s idea of fun is pissing his pants,” says Albert. “You should’ve seen him after Night Shift.”

“Night shift?” asks Eddie, incredulous. “That one was mild as hell.”

“Not if you, like me, have actually worked night shifts all alone,” says Chim. “I used to be a nightguard at this creepy high school when I was in college. The things I saw…” He adds wistfully.

“Well, boys, let’s just head in and see if all the fuss I read in the reviews about this place is worth it,” proposes Hen. And, with a quick glance around, the five of them, plus Ravi and Bobby, make their way into the rundown building. It’s merely three stories high, brick-made and the only slightly concerning part about it is a blood-red graffiti painting on the front door saying, come in only if you dare.

The reception area of the haunted house kind of reminds Buck of a waiting room at a hospital. There’s stale, uncomfortable-looking chairs lined around the walls, and a glass protector between them and the receptionist, who takes one judgemental look at them and tells Hen, “I thought tonight was booked for a children’s party.”

“Well, some of them are children, I’ll have you know,” she answers.

The receptionist hums and takes Hen’s credit card off her to swipe it. In less than a minute, she’s leading them to a heavy metal door with several locks, the sign on which says, THE MORGUE. “If it gets too much or anyone has an emergency, there is a red button in every room. You press it and we turn the lights on.”

“People have emergencies often at this place?” asks Chim, looking pale.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” she answers. She unlocks the door, exposing to them a dark hallway with blinking lights, and spares them one last look and a, “Have fun,” before they walk in and she locks the door behind them.

Immediately, the outside world shuts off and all Buck hears is an eerie soundtrack. He sees several doors with small windows on each side of the hallway, and it clicks in him that this is supposed to be the hallway of a hospital. They all stand with bated breaths, until a creak echoes from the end of the hallway and someone beside Buck jumps.

“Is it too early to press the button?” whispers Chimney.

“Yes,” says Hen, and though he can’t see her well in the dark, Buck swears she’s rolled her eyes. “Let’s just head in there first.” In a moment the lights flicker, she motions to a door that says, NO ENTRY, in the same swooping, sloping blood-red letters as outside .

The door creaks open and in they go, all of them under some unspoken agreement to keep their voices down and feet unslumping so as not to make any unnecessary noise. As promised outside, this is indeed the morgue. A body ripped apart at the seams by assumedly claws and fangs is splayed out in the middle of a procedure table, several bloody instruments laid out beside it.

“Y’all had dinner before this?” asks Eddie. Buck snickers.

“What are we supposed to be looking for here?” asks Bobby. “What’s the point of all of it?”

“I think the point is to just get out alive, Cap,” answers Ravi.

Bobby scrunches his nose. “Alive? There’s another way it can go?”

“The receptionist did mention something about emergencies,” adds Hen.

“Well, good thing we are in a roomful of firefighters and paramedics,” says Albert.

“You’re the odd one out, Albert,” realizes Chim. “Those are usually the ones in horror movies who— Ahh, what the hell is that?!”

A squelchy noise sounds across the echoey morgue, and Buck looks down to see that Chim has stepped into something gooey and disgusting on the floor.

“His brains, I think,” supplies Eddie helpfully. Chim glares at him.

“Nice,” he says. “We’re not even five minutes into this and my shoes for the night are ruined.”

“He-ey,” calls out Hen. “Come take a look at this.”

They head over to where Hen’s standing by the wall of mortuary cabinets. On each one, a tag is spelling out a name for who’s in it. Or rather, who’s not in it yet, once Buck reads the names of his friends, among which is his own. EVAN BUCKLEY on a mortuary cabinet’s tag should probably freak him out, if he hadn’t already faced death straight in the face and made it his acquaintance.

“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” says Chim. Then, he squints. “Wait, why is my name the only one not on here?”

“Are you upset that you’re not dead?” asks Albert.

“I just feel excluded, is all,” he answers. “Why didn’t you guys invite me to your massacre?”

“We were too preoccupied getting killed,” says Ravi. “So, do you guys think it was the same guy who feasted on that dude’s stomach?” He motions to the body on the procedure table.

“Guess that’s what we need to figure out,” muses Hen.

“Alright, I’m out of here,” says Chimney, raising his arms. He starts heading to the door, leaving the rest of them behind, still inspecting their own names on the tags. “You all have fun, tho— ARGH!”

It happens in the blink of an eye. One moment, Chimney has his hand on the door handle, the next, the door to the morgue flies open and he is snatched from where he’s stood by a pair of nasty, monstrous arms. Instinctively, Buck reaches out to hold onto something and he doesn’t realize he’s grabbed Eddie’s hand until he meets the familiar callouses of it.

Eddie meets his eyes for a single breath before he, with the rest of them, run out of the morgue after Chimney. Once there, they see the monster carry him behind the corner at the end of the hallway, kicking and screaming bloody murder. Then, all of a sudden, the screaming stops.

They all stand there, frozen, unsure how to proceed.

“The comedy relief usually lasts longer than this,” points out Ravi, breaking the stunned silence. “Is this movie gonna be any fun? Should we run after him?”

“For now, let’s stay where we are,” decides Hen. “We need to figure out a plan and rescue Chimney. Cap, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we check every room in the hallway for clues,” he says, without hesitation, in his Captain voice. “Let’s split up to cover more ground. Hen, you go with me to the end of the hallway. Ravi and Albert, you take the left side. Buck, Eddie, you take the right.”

“On it, Cap,” Buck, Eddie and Ravi say simultaneously. Albert blinks but joins in a moment later.

Buck and Eddie separate from them, heading into the first room on the right. It looks like a regular hospital room, though there is a buzzing sound that doesn’t belong, kind of like a swarm of bees, and, of course, another half-eaten body splayed across the hospital bed.

“The poor janitor will need to work overtime to clean this up,” jokes Buck. He narrowly avoids brain matter on the floor as he walks farther into it.

“I’m sure the janitor’s been eaten as well,” muses Eddie. “What should we look for?”

“Cap said clues,” answers Buck. “Think that’s more of his wife’s department, though, not ours.”

“Oh, come on, Buck. Cagney and Lacey, remember?” He smirks at him, calling back to a much different time.

The thing is… Sure, Buck is in love with Eddie now. It should be all kinds of new and scary. Yet it isn’t. Because, at the end of the day, this is who they are — two people who can joke around in stressful situations because they feel completely at ease with each other, and whether the love is requited or unrequited, Buck’s okay with having just that for now. Eddie is still his partner, even if not in every way that Buck wants him to be.

“Do you think this is important?” asks Eddie, picking something up from the murdered patient’s bedside table. Buck walks over and sees that it’s a diary.

“Open it,” he urges.

So Eddie does. He flips the cover page to see that it’s dated back to July of 1982, weirdly being Chim’s birth year and month. Buck leans over Eddie’s shoulder, enticingly close to his warm skin, and reads as Eddie flips page after page. It’s mostly mundane stuff, the patient, named Gloria, going over her boring days at the hospital as she recovers from a brain bleed. It’s about a week into her scribbles that it gets interesting.

“...today a strange man was admitted in the room beside mine. Strange how, you ask? He asked for raw meat for breakfast. Then, he asked for raw meat for lunch. Then, for dinner. The man has been eating raw meat all day!” Eddie reads out. “Okay, it has to be our guy.”

“Read on,” prods Buck. Eddie flips to the next page.

“Today the moon is full,” he reads. “I’ve read all kinds of things about the insanities of men during a full moon. But nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw today. My hospital neighbor walked into my room at night, staring at me with hungry, glowing eyes. He bared his mouth at me and his teeth looked as though they were fangs!” Eddie stops reading to look at Buck behind his shoulder. Their faces are barely a few inches apart. “Buck?”

“Yes?” he breathes out, his skin buzzing from their proximity.

“I think we’re dealing with a werewolf.”

It is in that moment of Buck and Eddie gazing at each other that a loud scream erupts from the hallway. They jump apart, Eddie dumping the diary back on the table, and rush out of the hospital room, running into Albert and Ravi.

“What happened?” demands Eddie. “Who screamed?”

“It sounded like a woman’s scream,” says Albert. “Hen?”

“Hen and Chimney?” asks Buck. “This is what they get for excluding me from the wedding planning.”

“Not everything is about you, Buck,” says Eddie, though it comes out affectionately.

“Did you guys find anything?” asks Ravi.

“The monster is a werewolf,” says Eddie. “You guys?”

“We found traces of wolfsbane and figured the same. So, how do you deal with a werewolf?”

“Garlic?” asks Albert.

“That’s vampires,” says Buck. “Silver’s how to kill a werewolf. I guess that’s what we need to find. So, let’s keep looking.”

Buck and Eddie head into the next room. This one’s a little different, eeringly so. The room is entirely emptied, except for a little chest right in the middle, covered in dust. Buck crouches down to open it but it doesn’t budge.

“You see a key anywhere?” he asks. Eddie scans their surroundings, but after a few minutes of searching, he comes up empty-handed. “Okay, let’s just remember what room this is in and if we find something similar to a key later on, get back here.”

They head to the door to step back out into the hallway. Except, when Buck pushes the handle down, it doesn’t budge either. “What the—?” He tries again and again, without luck. Eddie pushes him aside and tries some more, but nothing happens.

“Guess we’re stuck in here,” he announces. “Really? In a room with nothing in it?”

“Maybe there’s a secret exit,” Buck wonders out loud.

“If there’s a secret exit, it means someone might come in through it and find us.”

Buck winces. “Let’s not consider that scenario yet.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” 

Buck shrugs, leaning against the door and sliding down it to sit on the ground. “We wait.”

After a moment of hesitation, Eddie settles down on the floor beside him. They stay like that for several minutes, neither saying a word. Buck’s mind helpfully supplies that they’ve never been in a situation like this together, trapped in a room alone with their thoughts and no escape from them. And Buck finds that his thoughts, mainly concerning the man sitting a few inches to his right, are overwhelming.

“So, Maddie and Chim are getting married tomorrow,” is what he, for some reason, brings up.

“Yep,” says Eddie. “You okay with your sister going out into the world like that?”

Buck laughs. “Please, it feels like they’ve been married for ages. Though, I’m excited to see Maddie’s dress and Jee as the flower girl tomorrow. It’s going to be so cute.”

Eddie has a goofy grin on his face. “Sophia’s daughter was the flower girl at my wedding. One of the most adorable sights I’ve ever seen.”

“With Christopher for a son, I seriously doubt that. I sometimes miss how cute he was when he was little.”

“Hey, Christopher is still cute!” complains Eddie.

“Yeah, but don’t let him hear you say it,” says Buck. “He’s a big man now, dating all those girls.”

“Girl, singular,” corrects Eddie. “He’s finally settled down and picked his favorite. Penny’s the one.”

“Penny forgave him for talking to the other girls?”

“It’s like I said, the kid’s cute. Girls fawn over him. Girls forgive him, easy, with a face like that.”

Buck smirks. “Just wait until he’s the one getting married.”

Eddie lightly pokes Buck in the shoulder. “Hey, that’s not happening anytime soon. He’s not even in high school yet!”

“You were nineteen when you got married, Eddie. Christopher is only six years younger than that.”

“He is not getting married at nineteen if I have a say in that,” grumbles Eddie. “They should seriously put a higher age limit on marriage. God knows I wasn’t ready to be married that young. No one should be forced to grow up that quickly.”

The sad tone in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Buck. He scoots a bit closer to his best friend.

“You regret it?” he asks softly. Eddie looks at him, tilting his head in confusion. “Getting married to Shannon.”

“I had no choice,” he answers. “Catholic family, pregnant girlfriend… We had to get married before anyone noticed her baby bump. Even then, we kept it under wraps and pretended that Christopher was born a few months later than he actually was. I didn’t even get the brunt of it, as I was shipped off to Afghanistan. I can’t really complain when Shannon had it harder than me.”

“You had to take care of your family,” points out Buck.

“I could’ve just gotten a normal job in Texas,” says Eddie. “I ran away, Buck. It’s what I do. When things get hard, I run away. I did it when Christopher was born, when he was diagnosed, when my parents got too much, and finally, after I got shot. I’m a runner. A quitter. It’s what I do.”

“You’ve never run from me,” says Buck, after a beat. “Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, rubbing his cheek. “Not yet,” he agrees.

“Even if you did, one day,” he says then, easily finding Eddie’s eyes. “I’d run after you.”

Buck finds then that he can’t look away from Eddie. In the dim light, he feels as naked as the room they’ve found themselves trapped in. Eddie is gazing back at him, some kind of fiery glint in his eyes that Buck doesn’t recognize, doesn’t dare place into context. And then his gaze droops down until Buck swears he is staring right at his mouth.

“You’ve got— Something,” Eddie stutters, his hand twitching, wanting to reach out. He inhales deeply and raises it to brush his thumb over the corner of Buck’s mouth. A breath hitches in his throat, his brain going into a full-on panic mode. Eddie is so close. So enticingly close.

He withdraws his hand and flicks away whatever’s on his finger. “Just some lint from your sweater.”

But Buck can’t breathe. Because that finger was just on his face, on his skin, nearly touching his lips. And Buck needs it back, needs it touching him, needs it in his mouth, in his—

Before he can do something embarrassing and actually beg for it, the lights in the room turn on. Both of them blink, not used to the brightness. They slowly stand up, trying to figure out what’s happened. Before Buck can voice the question, the door to the room unlocks and opens, Hen on the other side with a booming smile, her glasses a little askew.

“You guys had fun in here?” she asks.

Buck shakes his head in confusion. “What happened? Is it over?”

“Ravi pressed the red button,” she explains. “He got freaked out by Maddie grabbing his ankle.”

“Wait, Maddie?” exclaims Buck, incredulous.

“Yep, she’s the werewolf,” reveals Hen. “We came up with this entire scheme during a night of wedding planning over steak and a lot of wine. The entire haunted house crew is in on it. They thought it’d be hilarious to have the bride be the monster.”

Buck scoffs. “I can’t believe you guys. How did you manage to keep it a secret from Chim?”

“Well, first of all, I’m not Chim when it comes to secrets,” points out Hen. “And Chim? He’s pissed off because he got kidnapped not even five minutes into the night and missed the whole fun of it. Honestly, we figured it for the best because he would’ve otherwise wetted himself. He nearly did when we watched Five Nights At Freddie’s.”

“The guy is scared of crows,” reminds Eddie.

“Well, anyway,” carries on Hen. “Bobby is headed home, but I assume you guys are still up for the second part of the night?”

“And what’s that?” wonders Buck.

Hen grins. “Getting shitfaced and watching Chim embarrass himself at karaoke.”

Buck and Eddie share a glance. Oh, it’s so on.

Buck is about five tequila shots in when he realizes that his entire body has grown limp and he is practically sat in Eddie’s lap. And, really, he should be more freaked out about it than he is, but Eddie’s not complaining. In fact, Eddie’s hand finds itself on Buck’s thigh, rubbing it back and forth and tracing pictures. Evan Buckley is dying.

“You good?” he asks after a minute during which Buck’s sure his eyes have glazed over.

“Hm?”

“You look like you’re half asleep,” explains Eddie. “You want me to take you home?”

“Not before I sing,” he argues. “I’ve been expecting this and practicing in the shower.”

“I feel sorry for your neighbors,” murmurs Eddie. Buck swats his shoulder at that.

“I’m a good singer, Eddie.”

“Yeah, if you can call singing completely off-tune good singing.”

“You just wait,” he threatens, wagging a finger at him. He struggles up, swaying a little. “Hen,” he calls over to her, interrupting her conversation with Albert, the two of them definitely scheming something. “Put in a song for me, please.”

Hen turns to face him, her eyebrow raised. “Which song?”

Buck juts out his chin, his chest swelling as he spares a glance at Eddie. “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.”

Eddie blinks. “That’s a duet, Buck.”

“Yep,” he says. “You’re joining me, Eddie.”

His best friend stares at him like he’s lost his mind. Maybe he has.

“Absolutely not,” he heaves out. “Over my dead body am I getting on that stage with you.”

“To be fair, your name was on a mortuary cabinet earlier,” points out Albert.

“See?” says Buck. “You gotta join me, man. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Someone might see me?”

Buck reaches out his arm to Eddie. He stares at it but doesn’t accept it. “For me, Eddie? Please?”

His best friend lets out a long, ragged sigh.

“Fine,” he says. “But you’re Kiki Dee.”

“Fair,” agrees Buck, turning back to Hen. “Please put the song on next.”

“Can’t wait to see this,” murmurs Hen, before going over to the DJ and putting in the request.

Next thing Buck knows in his drunken daze is he’s on the stage of a crowded bar, with dozens of pairs of eyes on him as he grabs one of the microphones and clutches it between his hands. Eddie is beside him, looking absolutely mortified with much less shots in him than Buck.

“I’m Buck, this is my good friend Eddie,” he says into the microphone, motioning to the man. “And this one goes out to my sister and the guy she’s getting married to tomorrow, who happens to belt this song in the showers at work at every given opportunity. Please enjoy and don’t be too hard on us.”

The familiar tunes of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart boom from the speakers and Buck only realizes that he’s not supposed to be singing the first line, Elton’s line, until he’s already belted it out. Eddie rolls his eyes at him but does his own, Kiki’s part. It’s kind of ironic to be looking at Eddie and signing, don’t go breaking my heart, when it’s the likeliest scenario of how this entire being in love with Eddie thing is going to turn out for him.

When Eddie looks right at him, singing the baby line, Buck imagines it being real. Eddie calling Buck baby, like he’s his, Eddie calling him a number of terms of endearment until Buck’s sick of it and can’t help but kiss them off his lips. Buck hasn’t a clue what Eddie’s actually like in relationships, if he even does use pet names for his partners. He sure as hell never heard him call Marisol baby. He’d have probably thrown up if he had.

And when Eddie sings to him, you put the light in my life, Buck imagines a world where that is true and reels with it.

He’s embarrassingly upset by the time the song is over. But then, Eddie gives him a quick look of can I? and Buck nods without being sure what he’s agreeing to. Eddie reaches for him, his hand clasping Buck’s own, and he holds on tightly as he bows to the cheering audience, dragging Buck with him. He keeps their hands intertwined even after the bow is over, just for a moment, but a moment long enough for Buck to imagine what would happen if he never let go.

Of course, he lets go. Eddie is not his. Eddie doesn’t want him. Eddie is never going to want him.

That sobers him up very quickly.

On what is supposed to be one of the happiest days of his sister’s life, Buck’s is anything but that. He goes through his morning routine with a slight headache and fuzzy memories from last night, moments he thought he shared with Eddie that for his best friend weren’t moments at all, and he’s down and depressed and swifting through several coffees to prepare for the eventual heartbreak that is going to hit him when he sees the love between Maddie and Chimney today, and is reminded that he won’t ever get that with Eddie.

That bartender was right. It’s a goddamn curse to be in love with his best friend. But they were also wrong. Because this won’t pass. There is no way this can pass. Unloving Eddie is probably as plausible as getting through Los Angeles morning traffic without getting stopped by a red light. It’s simply not something that Buck can get over. And he’s not sure if he wants to.

Because loving Eddie? Probably the most genuine state of being he’s endured in his life. Buck doesn’t want to tear it away, break it down, when it’s the most alive he’s felt in years, even after being resuscitated by Eddie’s own hands. Eddie has, literally and figuratively, brought him back to life. So what if he doesn’t love him back in the way he wants him to? Eddie still loves him, made sure to tell Buck that, and he’s still ungrateful. He’s loved by Eddie anyway — why wouldn’t that platonic, familial love be enough?

After getting dressed and fixing his hair in the mirror for an embarrassingly longer time than a man’s ought to spend on himself, Buck heads down to his car to make his way to the wedding venue across the city. They’ve picked a beachside venue, something glamorous and expensive, because Maddie’s first wedding was anything but.

He doesn’t notice that all the traffic lights beam green.

The ceremony held on the beach is beautiful. Buck tears up at the sight of Jee as the flower girl, tiptoeing down the aisle and nearly toppling over her own dress, and by the time Maddie and Chimney are exchanging their vows, he is silently crying where he’s stood a couple of feet from the couple. Trying his hardest to not look over at Eddie in the first row when Maddie promises to love Chimney until her dying breath, when he feels similarly about his best friend.

The reception takes place in the mansion up the cliff, and the wedding guests already head over while Buck and his immediate family, as well as Chim’s, hold back for the pictures. Buck poses and smiles and pretends that his heart isn’t shattering in his chest the more times the camera’s shutter clicks. This is Maddie’s day. He’s not allowed to show he’s aching and have her worry on her goddamn wedding day.

Thankfully, Maddie is too preoccupied with dealing with their parents to notice. But someone else does.

It happens as they’re heading up the hill, Buck walking swiftly ahead, as though he’s leading the group to the location. In reality, he just wants to get away from all the love and happiness and get his hands on some booze as quickly as possible. Hen falls into step with him suspiciously quickly.

“What’s wrong?” she prods.

“Nothing,” he answers.

“Okay,” says Hen, rolling her eyes. “I’m not buying that, Buck. So, don’t waste my time and just get to it.”

Buck heaves out a sigh, pocketing his hands in his slacks.

“It’s just— Eddie,” he says the name as though it explains it.

“What’s up with Eddie?”

Buck meets her eyes, hoping they scream, really? You’re gonna make me say it?

“Okay, I might’ve picked up on something, especially lately,” she admits. “That’s why I locked you in a room with him last night. You guys didn’t figure it out?”

Buck’s mouth hangs open. “You planned that?”

“I had to do something,” she reasons. “You two are thick as hell when it comes to communication. Figured I needed to force you to talk to each other, if you can’t do that on your own terms and conditions. Don’t tell me you didn’t figure it out?”

“Figure out what exactly, Hen?” he asks. “He’s never going to fall in love with me.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“I’m just— I’m me?” he laughs bitterly. “Even if Eddie wasn’t straight—”

“You don’t know he is.”

“—even if so,” he carries on. “I’m not sure I’d even deserve his love.”

Hen frowns. “How come?”

“Eddie has this grand idea of what love could look like for himself, even if he’d never admit it out loud,” says Buck. “He’s obsessed with romcoms, I’ll have you know. He’s desperate to find something like that for himself. So far, he hasn’t even tried. He’s looking for replacements of Shannon for Christopher’s sake, never bothering to find someone for himself. But once he finally gets there? Once he realizes he should be looking for a partner for himself? I could never be that partner for him. I’m not—”

“If you’re about to say you’re not enough, Buck, I’m going to smack you,” says Hen, cutting him off. “You’re not enough for Eddie? You, Buck? The guy who has stood by his side through hell and back, connected with him in ways that I don’t even fully understand myself sometimes, shared experiences with him that most romantic partners never will? Loved him throughout his every flaw, as irrevocably and unconditionally as you have? You aren’t just enough. You’re the perfect goddamn fit.”

And Buck finds that hard to believe, that he of all people could be perfect for Eddie. But it’s Hen. He trusts the woman with his life. He trusts that she is wise and she is, most of the time, right on the dot. But this is bigger than that. Hen’s not Eddie, Hen’s not Buck, Hen doesn’t know what it’s like to be in this. How much he could risk, how much he could lose.

And if Eddie ran away, he wouldn’t even be able to follow him as he’d promised.

“Just don’t lose hope, okay?” Hen carries on. “Maybe you’ve made it out to be this impossible thing in your head when it really isn’t. Maybe you and Eddie can sort it out between you. You just gotta be honest with each other about your feelings.”

“Sounds terrifying,” says Buck, with a small laugh.

“Anything that is terrifying at first will be appeased in the end,” she answers.

Buck sure as hell hopes she is right.

“You look like you need a drink, so I got you one.”

As soon as the wedding feast was over, Buck disappeared into a quiet corner, where he could watch the celebrations unfold like a wallflower. He’s not in the most festive of moods and doesn’t want to spoil it for anyone, especially Maddie, so he only comes back out to keep up with his appearances and ensure Maddie isn’t worried about her little brother missing from her big day. He finds that she’s too preoccupied by all the attention on her to notice, thank God. At least he’s alone in the suffering.

And then Eddie shows up with that drink, claiming the chair beside him. Buck takes the flute of champagne off his hands, sipping it but only tasting bile.

“Where’s Christopher?” asks Buck. He hasn’t seen the little guy in a while.

“Dancing with Hen and Karen,” says Eddie. “They can barely keep up with his moves.”

Buck laughs. “I bet.”

There’s a beat of silence that speaks volumes between them. Buck swallows thickly, wiping the condensation off the flute.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” states Eddie. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” argues Buck.

“Really? Then how come this is the first time we’ve spoken all day?”

Buck doesn’t have a good answer to that, so he simply takes another sip. Eddie lets out a sigh.

“Just tell me what’s wrong,” he presses. “Did I do something last night? Is that why you’re pissed at me?”

“I’m not pissed at you.”

“Then what are you? Talk to me, man.”

“Can’t a guy just have a day to himself?”

“Not on his sister’s wedding day.”

“What does that change?”

Eddie hesitates for a beat.

“You’re supposed to be happy.”

Buck lets out a deep, echoey laugh.

“Happy? What am I supposed to be happy about?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” says Eddie sarcastically. “All the love in the room? And then some.”

“And then some,” he echoes. “What does that mean, exactly?”

He watches as Eddie plays with his own flute before throwing his head back and downing the entire contents.

“The love we all have for you,” he says. “The love I have for you. Is that not enough of a reason to be happy?”

Buck sets down his flute on the table. He stands up, starting to walk away from the table. He needs to get away from the venue, away from Eddie. But once he makes it out into the hallway, he realizes that Eddie has followed him.

“What do you want from me?” he nearly shouts, swinging around to glare at him.

“What do you want from me?” Eddie fires back, closing in on him. He stops only a few feet from Buck, his eyes probably as fiery as Buck’s own pair. “Why are you being such a little shit for no reason?”

“No reason?” asks Buck. “ No reason? You’re making my life a living nightmare.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “What the hell have I done?”

“You just—!” he flails his arms around. “I swear to God, you don’t even realize what you’re doing to me half the time. You just go and do something so moronically and endearingly Eddie and don’t care about the consequences.”

“Like what?”

“Like last night!” he exclaims. “I thought you— I mean, I get what I’m doing. I desperately crave your attention so I embarrass myself in front of you. But why are you just… Going with it? Have you no heart? Why can’t you tell me to stop, push me away, demand I tone it down a notch?”

“Is that my responsibility?”

“Well, I sure hoped you’d thread less lightly with matters of the heart.”

“Buck, come on, man,” he says. “You know I love you like—”

He lets out the whiniest groan he’s ever let out in his life.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“What?”

Buck wants to smack his damn head.

“Are you torturing me on purpose?”

“Torturing? Wha—?”

“Goddamnit.”

Buck crosses the final foot or so between them and kisses him.

And it should be this massive, monumental, firework worthy moment, right? Turns out it’s anything but. Because his lips are against Eddie’s for maybe three seconds tops until he is pushing himself off Buck, breathing deeply and loudly in the quiet of the hallway.

Buck stares at him, rejection slamming into his body like a goddamn bulldozer. Eddie stares at his own feet.

“I can’t do this,” mumbles Eddie, backing away. Walking away. No, running away. Running from Buck. Quitting Buck. Just like he feared he would. “I’m sorry.”

Buck watches as Eddie disappears down the hallway, sprinting back into the reception, and he doesn’t follow. He’d promised Eddie last night that he would run after him, but he doesn’t. Has no strength for it. Eddie’s been loud and clear about where he stands. Eddie doesn’t want Buck, so Buck doesn’t want to run after him. What’s the point?

Instead of going anywhere he might see Eddie, Buck turns around and heads for the bathroom, with plans to lock himself in a stall and wait around until it could be safer to come back out.

So, that’s what he does.

When Buck returns to reception, he is relieved to find that Eddie and Christopher are no longer present. The party is winding down, only a few couples left swaying on the dance floor, most of the cake devoured and the booze emptied. Buck sits in that same quiet corner and watches as people slowly begin to leave.

It hits him like a ton of bricks. He’s kind of relieved that Eddie rejected his favor as plainly as he had. At least he has clarity now. That little voice in his head doesn’t have to linger and wonder if he’d been wrong, if Eddie perhaps felt even a portion of the things Buck feels for him. He has the answer — Eddie’s not an option, so it’s safe to start the recovery journey of moving on from him. How he’s going to do that, he’s not certain yet. But he knows he has to. He can’t live on like this, his heart shattering behind his ribs at the simple sight of him, the simple thought.

With a heavy yet calming beat in his chest, Buck heads over to the main table, where Maddie and Chimney are sharing a few laughs, indulging themselves in retellings of the day. Jee is perched on her dad’s lap, taking a nap.

“It was beautiful, guys,” he announces, standing before them until he catches their attention. “The ceremony, the party decorations… And your dress, Maddie! Breathtaking.”

“Thank you, Buck,” says Chim. “You okay in there? We noticed you weren’t very present for the second half of the day.”

“All good,” he lies, forcing a smile. “Might’ve been the hangover from last night.”

Chimney doesn’t look like he fully believes him, but he doesn’t pry.

“Well, I need to make a few rounds to say goodbyes, but you hang in there,” he says. He stands up, gently lying Jee on the chair and smacking a kiss to Maddie’s cheek, at which she lets out a little giggle. “See you later.”

The moment Chim disappears, Maddie is onto him.

“What happened when you disappeared with Eddie?” she demands.

Buck’s a bit shellshocked at the sudden ambush. “What do you mean?”

She practically glares at him. “Don’t give me that, Evan. I saw you guys leave, very heatedly at that, and then Eddie returned a few minutes later looking like he’d seen a ghost. He just picked up Christopher and left. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he says. He can’t talk about this right now, especially to Maddie. Doesn’t want to ruin her day.

“Buck, I swear to all that is holy—”

“Nothing happened,” he repeats, losing it quite a bit. Might as fucking well, if she’s so insistant. “That’s the thing. I kissed Eddie and nothing happened. He just left.”

Maddie frowns. “You kissed him? You figured it out?”

Buck pockets his hands to make sure she doesn’t see them trembling.

“I figured it out a while ago,” he admits. “Yes, you were right and all that. No need to rub it in my face.”

“He left,” she says, like a realization dawning over her. “Why did he leave?”

“Because he doesn’t feel the same way,” he answers. “Obviously.”

“Perhaps he just wasn’t expecting it?” she guesses.

“Perhaps he’s just disgusted,” says Buck.

Maddie glares at him. “You can’t actually think that, Buck. Eddie is— From all I know about him, even if it’s mostly secondhand, he cares so deeply about you. He wouldn’t just dismiss you like that unless he had a reason for it. You need to talk to him, as soon as possible.”

“What is there to talk about?” asks Buck. “That was a clear rejection. He wants nothing to do with me. So.” He takes a steadying breath. “I’ll just move on. Forget this ever happened. Go back to being best buddies with him, if he can find a way to forget about it as well.”

Maddie’s glare turns even angrier. “Are you serious? After all these relationships you’ve gone through, have you still not learned a damn thing?”

“And what’s that?”

“You might know Eddie like the back of your hand,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean you know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. You can’t know that unless you actually communicate with him. It’s the core of any relationship working — communication. You can’t just go off assuming things.”

“I know what he’s thinking without asking. Eddie is—”

“Confused,” she cuts him off. “Scared. Terrified, probably. You’re not the only one risking something here. You mean as much to him as he means to you. Don’t you get that?”

Buck just stares at her, not sure how to answer. She lets out a sigh.

“You need to sleep this off,” she demands. “Don’t go making any life-altering decisions while you’re in this state. Don’t go making a mistake you’re not mentally prepared to face the consequences of. Go home, Buck. Get some sleep. Wake up fresh in the morning and think about this rationally.”

“But—”

“I’m not asking,” she presses. “Go home.”

Buck shuts his eyes, just for a moment, to shut off the world around him. When he opens them again, he doesn’t see it any more clearly.

“It really was a beautiful wedding,” he promises.

“Uh-huh,” says Maddie. “Time for you to head home before the image is ruined.”

So, Buck does.

Buck doesn’t expect to be woken up at seven in the morning on the day after his sister’s wedding. Certainly not the sound of someone banging heavily on the door to his loft. He’s sleep-rumpled and groggy, and he half-considers just ignoring whoever’s trying to rob him of much-needed rest to keep on dreaming about soft, calloused hands touching every inch of him.

It’s when a voice calls out his name, impatient and insistent, that he actually opens his eyes.

Slowly, Buck makes his way down the stairs, his feet lagging a little, still not fully woken up yet. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, yawning all the way to the door, which someone is still slamming their fist against. When he finally unlocks it from the inside and opens it, he’s met with the sight of probably the most determined man he’s ever seen this early in the morning.

“Eddie?” he croaks out. “Why are you—?”

Buck doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Eddie is suddenly there, all up in his space, grabbing Buck’s head between his hands and smashing his lips against his own pair.

Buck’s mind goes completely offline. He’s barely awake and he’s feeling Eddie’s soft, silken lips against his, feeling his best friend’s absolute desperation to get as close to and deep in him as possible, until nothing separates the two of them, and having no idea what to do about any of it.

Eddie’s kissing him and he’s floating, barely feeling his bare feet against the laminate beneath him. He’s kissing him and there isn’t a single thought up in his head except, kiss me more and kiss me harder, claim me, claim me, claim me…

And then the realization kicks in. This shouldn’t be happening. This is exactly the thing that Buck spent all of last night, trying to fall asleep, convincing himself was not a possibility. He won’t get to have Eddie, not like this. Eddie doesn’t want it. So, why is this happening right now? Is he still sleeping? Still dreaming about Eddie when he oughtn’t do that anymore?

And out of all things that should come out of his mouth after Buck pushes Eddie off of himself, it’s something absolutely ridiculous.

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.”

Eddie gives him a wild stare that screams, are you serious right now?

“I don’t give a shit. Does it look like I give a shit?”

“Well—”

“Just c’mere,” he urges, grabbing Buck by the waist and trying to pull him back into him.

“Wait, Eddie—” Buck stutters out, yanking out of his grip. “What is happening right now?”

He lets out a pained groan.

“Well, I’m trying to kiss you but you keep pulling away.”

“Okay,” he says, oddly steadily, though he feels the exact opposite. “Didn’t you mumble something along the lines of we can’t do this last night and then ran away from my sister’s wedding?”

“Well, yes, but— I had to think!”

“So, tell me what you ended up thinking. Don’t just jump me.”

Eddie stares at him, his chest heaving. 

“I’m thinking that—” He lets out a bated breath. “I’ve been thinking, for the past month, that I was wrong. I told you that you liking men doesn’t change anything between us. But it did. It changed something in me. And Buck… I was terrified. I was terrified because I started feeling some kind of way about you liking men, and I swear to God, I even thought I was homophobic at one point— But it wasn’t that. It’s like a floodgate opened. A floodgate opened and all these overwhelming feelings stormed out into the open and hit me like a ton of bricks. I started— Fantasizing about situations that I could find myself in with you if I dared, and I couldn’t push them down.

“And then, I started thinking about my relationships with women,” he carries on, wild with it. “How they never work out. How I’m never present in them. How I feel like I’m constantly performing. How I don’t really crave intimacy from them. How I could seriously be fine if I never got the chance to have sex with a woman again. And, fuck. ”

Eddie lets out a choked laugh.

“I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. I pushed even harder with Marisol until— Well, you know. Kind of funny that she’s homophobic when she was dating a— A gay man? Hah.”

Buck isn’t finding this very funny.

“And when I came to terms with the fact that those feelings were my attraction towards you, I lost it,” he says, like a goddamn promise. “I tried to be the supportive friend — maybe a little too supportive — who’s not undergoing his own sexual awakening of sorts. But all I could focus on was how much I wanted you. How deeply I felt for you. Finding out that I’m in love with you terrified the hell out of me. Because yeah, sure, you like men. But why would you like me, pick me, the mess I am?

“So, yes, I ran away last night,” he says, hunching in on himself. “Not because I’m not into kissing you — very much into it, in case that wasn’t clear. But because I got scared again. Somehow, you wanting me back is even scarier than the opposite, wanting you without it being returned. If we were to get together, I could ruin the single most important relationship in my life — because it’s what I do. I ruin things, I ruin people. I can’t afford to ruin you. Lose you.”

Half of what Eddie’s revealed hasn’t clicked in his morning brain yet, but he has to say something in acknowledgement.

“But you’re here now. Telling me all this.”

“Hoping for your input,” clarifies Eddie. “I need to know how serious you are about this. If it’s worth the risk of what we could lose.”

And then, all at once, it hits Buck. Eddie doesn’t know. He hasn’t actually told him. He’s been out here, for the past month, in the same spot as Buck himself, wondering about whether these feelings are returned and fearing the exact same outcomes to them being revealed, and never receiving a clear answer.

“How serious I—?” He can hardly believe how little he has, in fact, told him. “Eddie, I am devoted to you. You jump? I jump. You die? I fucking die with you. I nearly have before. There is no me without you. You have crawled and seeped into every particle of my body and there’s no getting rid of you. I am so in love with you that I have to relieve some of that love with my every breath so that I don’t get suffocated from the intensity.”

A breath hitches in Eddie’s throat. “I— What the hell, Buck.”

“You’ve been killing me this past month,” he carries on. “That over-the-top supportive best friend act? Jesus. Punch in the fucking gut. It screamed, he doesn’t want you and never will. You started touching me, returning my touches. Touching me and teasing me and— While at the same time, brushing it off and making me think I’m insane, like I’m imagining something that isn’t there. It was torture! I couldn’t handle it anymore and I just had to kiss you for some relief.”

“But that’s not all it is. Relief?”

Buck laughs. “I could probably kiss you a million times and still not have enough.”

Eddie gazes at him like he’s gazing at the whole universe. Buck knows what that feels like. It’s exactly the same as when he’s gazing at Eddie.

“You’re in love with me,” he states.

“Well, yes, I believe I said that.”

“You’re in love with me,” he repeats. “And I’m in love with you. Why are we making this so hard for no goddamn reason? Isn’t love like… The easiest thing in the world?”

Buck lets out a chuckle. “Not when it’s us, I guess. We love to make things complicated.”

“I don’t want that,” says Eddie. “Realizing I love you? Yeah, that was hard as hell. But the actual feeling? It’s more natural than my lungs expanding with oxygen, blood pulsating to my heart, thoughts rushing to my head. Loving you is the easiest motion I’ve ever gone through.”

Buck swallows thickly. “Yeah. Same here.”

Eddie raises his hand, his fingertips ghosting along Buck’s jaw.

“So, let me love you,” he says quietly. “And I’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved. I’m keeping that promise until well after I’m gone from this Earth. Let me love you, Evan.”

And what the hell is Buck supposed to say to that, except absolutely?