Work Text:
It’d been four weeks to the dot.
Four weeks since Christopher left with his grandparents, left a bereft Eddie in his wake. Four weeks since neither his father nor Buck had received word from the teenager, only, in Eddie’s case, updates from Helena. Sometimes. When she felt like it. To rub some salt in the wound and show him how much his son thrived in Texas, compared to L.A.
Four weeks.
Three weeks and a half since their Captain was replaced by a homophobic, racist and misogynistic asshole who made their every working day a nightmare.
Buck should have known. He should have known that he’d been happy for too long. That the Universe was going to start yelling at him again at some point, throwing horror after horror at his head.
He felt almost empty, now.
Chris was gone, and hadn’t sent him any messages, nor called. At first, he’d thought his grandparents had confiscated his phone, but his Insta and Discord were still updated regularly, so he was simply ignoring Buck too.
And it hurt.
Bobby couldn’t step foot inside the 118, and Buck hadn’t seen him in a while either.
Hen was too busy fighting tooth and nail to get her daughter back, with Chim’s help, and he barely saw her outside of shifts.
Eddie…
Eddie wasn’t…all there anymore.
Since Christopher left, he’d withdrawn into himself, which wasn’t a surprise, but it had gotten worse as days turned into weeks. He looked like death warmed over and, to top it off, Captain Asshole had put them on opposite shifts. He wasn’t Eddie’s partner anymore.
Their texts were too often short, to the point.
All the warmth had left.
And, to make matters worse, his relationship with Tommy wasn’t going well.
To be honest, it hadn’t gone ‘well’ since the beginning, but as usual, Buck had thought that he needed to put in the work, to make the efforts, to try harder.
Weeks after the fallout, he was tired to be the only one trying.
And it all came to a head that evening.
Tommy was over, it was their ‘official’ fifth date (as they didn’t consider the medal ceremony to be one). Buck had cooked dinner, they’d chosen a movie neither of them had seen to sit in front of. Tommy’s hand was on his thigh, Buck’s arm was on the back of the couch, his fingers rubbing little circles on the other man’s shoulder.
All in all, it should have been a good evening.
Except…
Except Buck hadn’t heard from Eddie in literally two days. When they’d briefly crossed paths at the end of one’s shift and beginning of the other’s. When Eddie, dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn’t eaten in days, nodded in his direction and wished him a good day.
Buck was worried.
Eddie was hurting but, as he’d often done before, he kept it to himself. He’d refused therapy after a first disastrous session with Frank; he even found stupid excuses to avoid Buck coming over to the Diaz home.
Buck was extra worried.
He couldn’t even check if his bestfriend had relapsed into fight-club mode, because he couldn’t covertly check his body in the locker-room, or hug him to feel if his ribs were tender.
Buck was really fucking worried.
“Evan…” Tommy sighed, squeezing his thigh, “you’re not paying attention to the movie.”
“Sorry,” Buck said immediately, feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world (not for the first time).
Instead of giving the screen his full attention, though, he grabbed his phone. Which was void of any notification or message.
He opened his and Eddie’s text thread.
Buck [Yest. 9:04 am]
You home okay?
Buck [Yest. 10:36 am]
You must be resting. Text when you’re awake.
Buck [Yest. 15:47]
Eddie, you okay?
Please, Eddie. I’m worried.
I’m home from work. Do you want me to come over?
Buck [Today 8:12]
Eddie, I’m really worried. Could you please just tell me if you’re alright?
Tommy’s coming tonight but I can reschedule if you need me.
Eddie?
No answer. Just the damning word ‘read’ under each message.
“Evan, seriously!” Tommy sounded annoyed, now. He grabbed the remote and paused the movie, turning to Buck. “What’s going on?!”
“Eddie hasn’t answered any of my messages in two days. What if--What if something happened? What if he--" he couldn’t even finish his thought, the anguish of it too overwhelming.
Surely Eddie wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
Tommy sighed. “Evan, Eddie’s a big boy now. His problems aren’t yours. Let it be.”
Buck’s head snapped in the older man’s direction. “I’m sorry?! His problems aren’t my problems? Do you hear yourself?”
He stood from the couch, putting distance between him and this man he suddenly couldn’t stand to be seated next to.
A man who groaned. “He’s your friend, not your kid. He fucked up, let him deal with it.”
“Have you ever had a friend, Tommy?” Buck couldn’t believe his ears. “When they’re in trouble, when they aren’t well, do you ignore them because it’s not ‘your business’?!”
Tommy rolled his eyes. Rolled his eyes. “Fine, then. Call him, I don’t care, this movie is already ruined as it is!”
“No, no, no,” Buck said, pocketing his phone and crossing his arms. “I’d like to have that conversation with you. It’s long overdue, I think.”
“What do you mean?” The other man seemed unfazed. Almost bored. “We’re having fun, aren’t we?”
“Is that all that is happening here? Having fun?!”
“Evan, I don’t want to fight with you. Call Eddie, and when he answers and you see he’s alive, maybe you’ll calm down and we can…I don’t know…relax. Finally move to the next level.”
Buck felt sick. “You must be joking.” He turned away, feeling his eyes prickle with unshed tears. He was such an idiot. “All I’m good for is sex, is that it?” He refused to look at Tommy. “I’ve wanted to go slow, explore what it means to me to realise I’m bisexual, but all you’re interested in is getting in my pants, right?”
“Evan--"
Suddenly, after months, this word gave him the ick. “Stop calling me that. Only the most special people in my life can call me that. Maddie can call me that. Eddie, on occasion. Not you. Not anymore.” He turned away, tears still present, but filled with anger instead of frustration. “All the relationships I’ve had over the years could be limited to sex and little more. I’d hoped our relationship could be different, but clearly it isn’t. I should have understood that four weeks ago.”
Tommy seemed confused. He was sitting up now, tense, but still unwilling to stand and fight for this, apparently. “Why four weeks?”
“Four weeks ago is when you told me to my face that ‘my father is alive’ when I told you how I felt about Bobby. Four weeks ago is when you turned my worry, my trauma, my ‘daddy issues’ into a joke.”
“I didn’t know… You didn’t tell me.”
Buck sighed. “And perhaps that was telling too. That I’ve never really felt like telling you about my childhood and my fucked-up parents. But even then, Tommy. Ever since we first kissed, you… You’ve been treating me like a child.”
There was a pause. A telling one.
“In fact, if I’d read a bit more about it, I should have recognized the signs. You were looking for someone to play ‘Daddy’ to. Well, Thomas, it won’t be me.” He pulled his phone back from his pocket, noticing the lack of message yet again, and pursed his lips. “Now, I’m going to go see if the best man I’ve ever had in my life isn’t spiralling out of control; and pull him back from the pit he’s thrown himself into, if I can. Because that’s what you do when you love someone.”
“You love Eddie, huh?” Tommy looked cruel, in that moment. “Should have known.”
“Of course I love him. I may not love him the way you imply, but I do love him. Enough to put him first, instead of a relationship that was going nowhere. Or rather, that would have gone nowhere else than my bed.”
He turned to put on his shoes and grab his keys. Before leaving the loft, he turned one last time towards Tommy, who was still seated, and who had the gull to look angry, now.
“Close the door on your way out, Firefighter Kinard. It was nice knowing you.”
Eddie’s truck was parked up front, but there weren’t any lights on in the house.
It wasn’t that late, only 9pm, but Buck didn’t want to disturb his friend if he was finally managing to get some shut-eye.
Thankfully, even after everything, he still had his key.
The Diaz home had never felt less homely than it did when he closed the door behind himself. Chris’s shoes were missing from the entryway, his backpack wasn’t lying on the floor; there wasn’t the faint smell of a good dinner in the air, which felt stale, as if the house hadn’t seen the sun since its literal sun had left.
Buck looked into the living-room. There were blankets haphazardly thrown onto the couch, as if Eddie had slept on it at least once. Several photo frames were lying face down on the mantelpiece. One was missing from the wall: the one with Chris and Shannon.
The kitchen was an absolute mess. Dirty dishes filled the counters, some which must have been there for weeks; empty or half-filled take-away cartons littered the table; empty beer bottles were left on the floor. Thankfully, that last item wasn’t in a large enough quantity to make Buck worry about Eddie turning to alcohol as a coping mechanism.
He treaded carefully through the house, and stopped at Chris’s door. It was ajar.
He pushed it open slightly more, and the sight that greeted him broke his heart more than the rest of the house could have.
Eddie, clad in a dirty t-shirt and sweatpants that hadn’t been laundered in a while, by the look of them, was lying on Chris’s bed, clutching the sheets so tight his knuckles were white, even in slumber.
By the looks of it, he’d cried himself to sleep.
Buck felt tears fall on his cheeks.
His bestfriend, his person, was hurting, and he felt like he hadn’t put enough work into helping him, lately.
Yes, he’d been shocked and disappointed when the whole Kim thing was put to light, but it wasn’t a good enough reason to let the man he loved the most on this planet – save for Christopher, of course – bury himself in grief.
After counting Eddie’s breaths for a minute or two, Buck slowly closed the door, and took off his jacket. Off to work with him.
He first checked Eddie’s bedroom, which hadn’t been touched in a while, apparently, apart from dirty clothes thrown on the bed and on the floor. He put everything into the laundry room to deal with later, and changed the bedsheets. Despite the late hour, he opened the window for a dozen minutes to air it out. Then he dusted it, replaced the fallen frames on Eddie’s bedside table and dresser, and left the vacuuming for later. He didn’t want to wake Eddie.
Next, he tackled the kitchen. He knew that the dishwasher wasn’t that noisy, so he loaded it and had it run three times in total to get rid of all the dirty dishes. He took care of the trash and checked the fridge, taking out everything past its due date – heart constricting when he spotted some of Chris’s favourites – and whipping up a grocery list for the following day, which Eddie and him had off too.
The living-room was easy to take care of.
It was past 1am when he was done.
The Diaz house still felt like something – someone – was missing, but it looked less like a madman’s house.
Speaking of which…
“What the--?”
Buck stood from the couch where he’d just sat, turning to see a groggy Eddie exit Chris’s room and study the changes to his house.
“Buck?” Red-rimmed brown eyes blinked up at him.
Buck did what he should have done four weeks ago, and every day since then.
He went to Eddie, and drew him into a hug.
The other man startled, tried to push him away, even, but he held fast.
“Let go, Eddie. Please. It’s alright. It’s me.” He fought Eddie’s increasingly weaker attempts to free himself from his arms, until six-feet of firefighter melted in his hold, dropping to the floor like a sack, deflated, defeated.
“Buck, I--"
“Let go, Eds.”
For the next half-hour, Eddie sobbed in Buck’s arms, gripping his shoulders painfully hard, leaving scratches with his bitten nails.
And Buck sobbed with him.
As usual, two peas in a pod.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Eddie whispered some time later, a warm cup of soothing ginger-lemongrass tea in front of him as Buck unloaded the last batch of dishes from the dishwasher.
“I should have done this a while ago. I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m sorry for not having been there earlier.”
“I can’t ask you to shoulder my shit, Buck.”
“I’m the one who couldn’t convince Chris not to leave.”
Eddie’s tired brown eyes snapped up to his. “What? You--Tell me you’re not blaming yourself for that!?”
Buck sighed, taking a seat opposite his friend. “I… I should have tried harder. I shouldn’t have gone on that stupid date. I should have stayed here and helped more.”
“Stupid date?” Eddie asked, brow furrowing. “Since when are dates with Tommy stupid?”
“Since we clearly weren’t a good match. I broke up with him.”
“Good,” Eddie answered simply. It was the most alive he’d looked in weeks.
“Point is,” Buck added, feeling a bit…seen, now, as a familiar tension he’d missed dearly rose between them, “I should have been there.”
“You’re here now.”
“Eddie. You look like…like a drowned kitten.”
The other man chuckled wetly. “Thanks.”
“So here’s what’s going to happen. Until that asshole Gerrard is gone for good, I’m going to live here with you. To help out, not to coddle you. And when we’re back on the team and you have your support system back, I’ll move back out. But Eddie…you need to try therapy again.”
“No. That shit isn’t working.”
“It worked before. Maybe you simply need someone else than Frank. Maybe you don’t trust him enough with your stuff.”
“I don’t. The only person I trust with my shit is you.” He barely paused after that bombshell. “And I can’t ask you to do any more.”
“Helping you isn’t a chore.”
“But I feel like that’s all you do, Buck!” Eddie looked frustrated again. His tea sloshed dangerously into his mug. “You help me. You cook dinner for…us; you coparent Chris; you help with school pick-up; you help when I’m spiralling; you help when we’re at work…you… Our entire friendship is based on that. I can’t ask any more of you.”
“You’re a moron, Eddie Diaz,” Buck said in a cross tone. “You want to keep track of the number of times you’ve pulled me out of my ass when I was feeling down? When I was feeling like I wasn’t enough, again? When I was struck by lightning and you gave me space until I was ready to talk about it? When you are literally the only person to follow through with my theme party idea of a bachelor party? When you pull me back when I want to do something impulsive, reminding me I’ve got people waiting for me at home?” He clenched his teeth. “When you fight my parents on my behalf; when you hold me when I break down because Bobby is lying half-dead on a hospital bed; when you tell me time and again how much more than my looks I am?”
“Okay… But…”
“But nothing.” Buck huffed a humourless laugh. His chest felt like cracking open again, but this time, it was good feeling. A really good feeling. A revelation. “You have no idea how completely opposite to my ex-boyfriend you are. I only just realised it, but God, it was so obvious from the start…”
Fresh tears fell on Eddie’s cheeks. “What are you trying to say, Buck?”
“Apparently, I’m trying to say, Eddie, that if you were into men I’d get on one knee right now and ask you to marry me.”
Eddie wiped his tears through a huff. “You can’t be serious. I’m a mess.”
“And? I’d still love you if you were a thousand times worse.”
“I…need to work on myself. But…” Brown eyes met his, and a hand left the side of the now cold mug of tea to gingerly take one of Buck’s. “But I know I love you too. That’s a given. Always.”
“Good,” Buck echoed with a small smile and a squeeze of Eddie’s hand. “Now, shall you work on yourself by sleeping some more?”
Eddie seemed unsure for all of two seconds. “Hold me?”
Buck nodded. No answer needed.
Nine weeks.
It’d been nine weeks since Christopher had left L.A. to spend the summer with his grandparents.
It’d been two weeks since he’d first reached out to his father, sharing about his days and sending pictures. Twelve days since he’d Facetimed to talk about the whole fuckery. Five days since he’d told Eddie he missed him.
Four days since he’d called Buck and told him he missed him too.
Today, though, was a new day.
Bobby was being reinstated at the 118, following Hen, Karen, Chim and Maddie’s successful lawsuit against Councilwoman Ortiz and her vendetta against Hen. Mara was going home.
Buck and Eddie were going on a date. On their terms. They were going to the cinema, where the darkness would help Eddie’s nerves with holding a man’s hand in public for the first time, and would hide any kiss they’d try to sneak in during the movie.
That was a recent development too.
In fact, the day Chris Facetimed, Eddie was so happy he swooped Buck into his arms and planted one on him without thinking.
The ensuing make-out session was the best thing Buck had ever experienced in his life.
The door to the quaint little house in the suburbs opened, May’s smile making Buck’s brighter just by existing.
Athena and Bobby had rebuilt their house, a bit differently, of course, as the original thing could not be replaced, nor its lost memories; and the kids had moved back with them for a while. For support. (And to make sure Bobby didn’t become insane during his forced unemployment.)
“Hey, big brother,” the young woman teased as a greeting.
That too was new.
Because only Athena and the children were in the confidence. Well, Maddie was too, obviously. And so was Chim, and by extension, Hen, Karen and Ravi.
And Eddie knew because…he was Eddie.
“Hello, sis.” He grinned. “Is Bobby home?”
“Of course he is. Trying on his uniform for the umpteenth time, as you can imagine.”
“I’m sorry.” He chuckled, hugged her briefly, and moved into the house.
Bobby exited his and Athena’s bedroom, already in formal uniform, as May had said. He looked surprised to see him, as was the point. “Buck? Is something wrong?”
“Nope,” he answered easily. “Just thought I’d drive you to work today, if you don’t mind.”
Bobby’s eyes softened. “’Course not, kid. Let me grab my bag.”
May rolled her eyes as they waited for his return. “Film it for me?”
Buck laughed. “It’ll be hard to film the thing when I’m driving, May.”
“Alright, then call me right after. I want to know how long he cried.”
“Promise.”
Bobby came back with his work duffel, planted a sound kiss on May’s forehead, and followed Buck to his Jeep.
In a few minutes, Evan Buckley was going to ask Robert Nash to adopt him. So he wouldn’t be Evan Buckley anymore. But Buck Evan Nash.
In the end, they’d both cry for far too long, and Bobby would be late for his first day back.
Thankfully, the new Chief would forgive him, under the circumstances.
It’d be a great day.